[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1005518715980369930/1013531878885691412/nicemeetingthough.png[/img]


[i]Year 413 P.A.
The day after Zeus’ death[/i][/center]

[hr]

Within the depths of his palace-arcology, Zeus plied at some decrepit old computer terminal that probably hadn’t been touched in a century. This whole storage area was as dusty as a crypt, and probably less visited than one, but the technology was robust and the old databanks had been brought back online easily enough.

Of course everything – even that which was of no conceivable use or interest – was walled off behind a hundred passwords and authentication steps. Fortunately the Key allowed Zeus to bypass it all and then some. This venture down the rabbithole had begun after the King of Olympus had made some inquiries and discovered that ‘Isaac Holcomb’ was an ancient name  for Typhon. His predecessor had surely known of this and so much else, of course, and had selectively chosen to [i]deny[/i] him those memories… some part of Zeus wanted to believe it was because such things were best spoken of in person, and that his mentor, his master, his predecessor, his [i]previous life[/i] would have eventually deemed it fit for him to know. [i]And then what would he have done?[/i] Why, then he would have just explained, from his own lips -- this and [b]everything else[/b].

But of course the late Zeus had done no such thing, so here his clone was, dredging up the troves of lost secrets and information. Many files and logs had been expunged, but with the data caches not in regular use, the Key allowed him to restore some of the old files. Zeus was taking particular interest in just those ones, the ones he presumably wasn’t meant to have ever seen. He opened another one that’d been restored with minimal losses to corruption or overwriting.

[quote=The Old Terminal Screen]>Captain’s Note:

>In t̵h̷e̴ ̸e̶v̷e̵n̴t̷ ̴I̶ ̵d̶i̷e̵,̷ ̵no matter wha̶t̶ ̶e̴l̴s̷e̶ ̸h̴ap—---ensure that whõ̸̮͓̀ever is ̴i̷n̴ ch-rge of T̴͛͜e̴̢͊l̴̟͂ë̴̫ċ̵̝o̸̞̎m̶͈̒m̷̻͝s̵͉̃ does not̶ ̵-̶ ̷r̴e̷pe-t̴,̷ ̷e̷mphasis - DOES NȎ̴̖T - win- up w̷i̵th  ̵t̵h̶e̴ ̸ R̷̬̾̓é̷̖͖̈m̸̡̡̍ò̶̗̀t̴̖̀́ȅ̴̛̺͜.̵̗̈́…[/quote]

Zeus blinked, trying to discern whatever meaning was meant to be held within the arcane squibbles and words on the monitor. And then his reverie was interrupted by light footfall echoing through the sepulchral chamber. “Your Highness,” a familiar voice called out.

“What is it now?” Zeus tersely replied to the Majordomo.

“The first round of questioning has been completed. Many rumors of interest have been noted and prepared into a report for your pleasure. One was discovered to be an informant reporting to Apate…”

[i]’The spymistress – can I even trust her?’[/i] the King thought irritably.

Zelos’ spiel had finished, Zeus having not even listened to the latter half of it. The Majordomo’s mien alone had already told him the outcome of the interrogations before his mouth had even opened. “And?” Zeus prodded. [i]Let the man state the failure frankly.[/i]

“Nothing necessarily pertaining to your predecessor’s demise was recorded,” Zelos confessed. “But everything was noted down, and upon further examination, perhaps the threads will come tog–”

A fuming youth shouted him down. “This is the product of questioning them softly! Seeing as that has told us nothing, perhaps it will soon be time to interrogate some of them… [i]sharply.[/i] I will not brook traitors in this palace.”

The Majordomo nodded tersely. “It will be as you say, Your Highness. But the night has come and gone, and now that it’s morning the first of the gods will surely be arriving soon to wait at your pleasure. Many are already in the city. The preparations are complete; you need only give the order and we shall open the gates and admit them.”

So Zeus powered down the terminal. “Very well. Bring them into the courtyard; I’ll ready myself to greet them.”

[hr]


The city of Mount Olympus was nestled between the highest peaks of Hellas’ greatest mountain range, and yet it seemed perfectly flat, unnaturally so. That’s because it was – some four centuries ago, they’d glassed an entire summit and then used orbital laser arrays and other equipment to finish the terrestrial sculpting, then paved over the whole thing with obscene quantities of marble and even gold. It was ostentatious, unnecessary, costly, time-consuming… but it had been grand, just like the late Zeus’ designs.

The whole place was mostly above the cloud line. The air should have been thin and frigid, barely even breathable (let alone habitable!) and yet it was instead idyllic. Perfectly maintained gardens and parks were everywhere, ancient and comforting old trees lined the streets, and grapevines and honeysuckle abounded. Their natural fragrances meddled with a few subtle chemicals sprayed from unseen dispensers to make the whole area feel homely, sweet, clean, and ever blossoming as though it were spring. The chirping songs and flashing colors of birds were also present at least when the inhabitants wanted them to be; but now all the birds were turned off to mourn the death of the late Zeus. It only took a press of a button to release pheromones that would induce the engineered birds to go into an indefinite hibernation. These avenues and parks were juxtaposed with the many towering arcologies that most of the Olympians made their residences, their workplaces, their storage areas, even their farms. Many of the colossal buildings had more than a hundred floors, their tops gouging into the heavens more deeply than any mountain’s peak. The city certainly did not want for more space given that it housed only a few thousand.

The absurdity of its scale and splendor was illustrated by how even the lowliest servants and guardsmen enjoyed their own apartments that rivaled the palaces of mortal kings. Automated factories that could have been crammed into a single floor often occupied five or six, just for ease of access to the machinery. In truth, the city often felt empty, its carefully engineered sights and smells and sounds little more than a facade to make one forget that by design it was something of an isolated bunker away from mortal eyes and reach.

Still, on that morning there was at least one lively place: the gate outside of Zeus’ courtyard. There, a pantheon had assembled. A low marble wall (topped with bars of wrought iron, and probably enough invisible force fields to survive a nuclear bombardment) enclosed a generous space around the grandest arcology of them all: it housed the king’s living quarters, and the queen’s also, dozen theaters and other entertainment complexes, a dozen-dozen offices and monitoring centers, and too many locked away ancient caches of technology and treasure to count. It also had a magnificent meeting hall specifically designated for great conventions like these, the likes of which tended to only happen every few decades at most, but that chamber would see no use today judging by how another half dozen guards stood blocking the entrance into the palace arcology. Instead, the courtyard seemed to have been prepared for this occasion, but even outside the ornament and finery were not lacking.

Obviously Hephaestus, or Coeus the Cat, was among the first to arrive. It’s just that his hoverboard was floating in the back of the congregation. On top of it – and seated triumphantly inside a glass dome filled to the brim with various installations – (a bureau of screens, buttons and accessories for ease of comfort to the Truest Cat God of Hellas) the mighty Engineering God sat. He had flown to Olympus with all due speed on this flying chariot of choice. 
Laser fuel propelled the board in place in the aether, where his prattling engine reverberated obnoxiously in the courtyard. Coeus could’ve dampened this noise if he wanted to, if maybe someone had asked him to, but the Cat wanted first to be acknowledged by the others, and NOT be ignored.


Demeter had arrived at the courtyard on Arion, ahead of the Horae, though they would not be far behind. The city, which often felt so bare, now felt as if it had been entirely condensed in front of the palace. Everyone was waiting, and surely politicking. As she stepped off her transport into the growing throng of gods, demi-gods, and attendants, dark green eyes took in the scene, unease creased across her brow. The ceremony had better not last too long, she’d prefer to tinker a bit about with GAIA and then return to one of her rural temples. Zeus had always been content to leave her be, surely nothing would need to change there. 

An incessant noise caught her attention and reflexively her eyes darted upwards, head cocked towards the source. Of course it could be none other - arrogant, proud, fickle, Hephaestus - Demeter could not pretend she did not notice him and easily moved through the crowd to greet the cat god of engineering.

Seeing her, he addressed Demeter first, ‘’Salutations Demetron. I see you looking. And yes, this impressive apparatus is indeed of my own making. What do you think?’’

The god was far too necessary to injure ego, regardless of any annoyances. Like perpetually ignoring corrections to pronouncing her name. “Yes, indeed, dear. Magnificent construction. Though I’m not sure everyone else approves of the noise.” She gestured absently to the crowd that occasionally passed judgemental looks in their direction. 

‘’That is because only True Gods can appreciate fine art.’’ Coeus sternly replied. ‘’But I find you worthy, Demetrean.’’ 
Having gotten the attention he craved, Coeus at the very least lowered the engine noise to a soft humming rattle – which was a bit less annoying.


The Mórrigan, clad in the guise of Apollo, smiled at the sound of Coeus's teasing, dressed in a loose, flowing white toga, a simple laurel wreath atop her head with little ornamentation. Her children, in fact, were more regally appointed -- the first of the Musa Apollonides wore an utterly pristine Peplos pinned in place by shimmering platinum-gold bands, sparkling opals hanging from her ears, likewise clad in gold. Asclepius, to the right, carried a roughly-hewn staff of pine in addition to his richly appointed toga, a silvery python wrapped about his staff, all while four of the armored Korybantes, their hoplite-styled plate clad in gold and polished to a mirrorlike sheen over crimson cloth tunics, all designed to accentuate their perfectly toned musculature. Each -- even Apollo -- carried a tall, cork-plugged ceramic jug, though only in one hand; in the other, a richly-appointed wooden box.

Then the next moment, a dozen members of the Sacred Band suddenly opened the gates to the courtyard. Half that number remained there standing at attention, and the other half bowed deeply and then led the waiting crowd to a feast table where Zelos, the Majordomo of the Highest Palace, received them, “Our lord bids you all welcome, and thanks you for arriving upon such short notice. He will be here shortly.”

So the waiting had at last ended. The line of guards before the palace’s entrance parted, and the heavy doors swung open. Zeus himself – the [i]new, younger[/i] Zeus anyway – strolled out to meet these greatest of his [i]subjects[/i]. He allowed himself to wear a warm enough countenance, but he didn’t go so far as to smile. He wore a white toga adorned with some stripes woven from cloth of gold, and despite his title as king he wore no crown – the golden thunderbolt scepter in his right hand declared his station loudly enough. He had all the other accoutrements of the late Zeus, too; his fingers gleamed and sparkled from a hundred advanced artifacts cleverly disguised as rings, and beneath that toga he doubtless wore the armbands too. He carried himself well – after all, he’d been created to one day wear this role and those trinkets. His presence was so magnetic to the eye that for a moment or two it was easy to gloss over Hebe Dia standing besides him; the Princess of Olympus was likewise ever radiant in a long silken gown and with long silver hair flowing gently down to her waist, shimmering jewelry draping her body –  her hair, neck, waist, wrists and ankles. Each gemstone and artifact is more brilliant than the last. She walked out by Zeus’ side, her delicate right hand locked with his left, an otherworldly allure about her glowing smile. Yet beneath the smile also lingered a small residual sadness. Indiscernible dried tears were on her cheeks.

Hebe – out of all gods – had perhaps the deepest attachment to the late Zeus. She had never known him as a tyrant, but only as her dear father. Hebe’s grief over his passing was only abated by the consoling embrace of her father’s new placeholder, a reminder that part of him still lived on. Afterwards she had been as pliable as clay. The new Zeus endeavored to treat her with reciprocity for it… her mother may have been a wretched creature, but Zeus bore no ill feelings towards this perfect daughter. If she behaved, her appearance would go a long way towards legitimizing his place as Zeus in the eyes of the rest of the Pantheon, he knew. So, he would be kind to her indeed, [b]if she behaved[/b]…

[i]‘The carrot and the stick,’[/i] Zeus thought to himself, the words echoing through his mind in the voice of his originator and predecessor – [i]his[/i] voice.

He let go of Hebe’s hand, and then one by one, he moved to personally greet the gods. First, his favorite of them all, the only one he was truly pleased to see. He embraced Athena suddenly and tightly. “Sister,” he found himself whispering to her ear. It sounded wrong now that he was Zeus, but it felt right, so right that it had just slid off his tongue. When he broke off from the hug, he spoke again, this time loud enough for the rest of them to hear. “It’s good to see you. I need you now more than ever, as does Olympus.”

Next, Apate approached the god king and flashed a smile.  She was dressed for the occasion, wearing an all-black sleeveless keyhole dress that had a plunging neckline that fell just below her belly button.  The bottom half of the dress fell to her ankles that barely revealed the heels she wore that boosted her height even higher.  She wore her hair in a halo braid that was done to perfection with nary a stray hair in sight.  Her face was pristine, and she wore more makeup than usual to the event.  That is not to say she looked porcelain and fake.  Instead the look was one that complimented her features without looking out of place or overdone.  The makeup around her eyes was dark, with precise and consistent lines.  Around her neck she wore a massive necklace filled with some of the biggest gems she could find. They were shaped by the finest craftsman that could be found in the godly realm and their look led to the stares of many an envious god… Hephaestus especially, with his feline laser-eyes glaring offendedly at the pristine baubles of the Deceiver Goddess. [i]‘’Pah!’’[/i] The Cat scarcely more than muttered from atop his floating hoverboard. Needless to say, he could have crafted a better necklace if he wanted to… 

In any case, Zeus answered Apate with a fake smile of his own, maybe even as convincing as Apate’s. He looked into her eyes, and for a moment there returned the flash of some alien memory – not his – of some other woman… probably Nyx. Holding her gaze then was hard, so he cast his eyes and chin upwards to look just over her head, beyond the shoulder…

“Father, I am at your service now and forever more.” Apate spoke with sincerity.  “Your wish is my command,” she finished the sentence and she bobbed an elegant curtsey.

Well, at least she’d said the right things. The honorific of ‘father’ was not lost upon Zeus, so he answered with an amiable air, “Be welcome, Apate.” Now he could meet her eyes again, and if there had been any sign of startle the first time, now it was gone and his feelings were an enigma. “You look striking as ever. In these trying times, I’m sure that your service will be needed.”

“Thank you, Father,” Apate smiled a little wider as she paused.  Apate could sense that Zeus had a thought on his mind.  Maybe her appearance stirred a memory of old, one that was not his own.  Regardless, she did not want to pry at this moment.  There would be time to reflect on the past as time goes on and they get further from the death of Zeus.  Apate wanted to linger in the conversation but she felt the weight of the situation bear down on her.  This was not her time to shine, not yet at least, and she wanted to make sure Zeus knew that she would never try and upstage him, especially on his special day.  “Father, I brought you a gift,” Apate paused as she lifted up a decorated little chest.  She opened it up revealing a bounty of jewels and artifacts of renown.  “You gave these to my late mother, she would have loved to return them to you as I do now.”  Though they were small, they were ones that had made an impression on her mother and Apate hoped they would do the same for Zeus.

The king’s eyes lit up at the gift – this was something he hadn’t been expecting. “You have my thanks, dear,” he told her. And to think that he’d contemplated excoriating her before all the rest! Well, perhaps her failings in regards to the assassination could be brushed over more gently. With a finger, Zeus gestured his Majordomo forth. “Please, take this to my quarters,” he told Zelos. “Find my dear wife too,” he hissed. “She’s late.”

But not wanting to dwell, Zeus then moved on to the next of them – [i]Demeter.[/i] The goddess of the harvest had opted to arrive in what she considered her court regalia; her broad body was swathed by many layers of sheer golden, green, and red chiffon, cinched with jeweled cornucopias at the shoulders and waist. With each step she took, her garments both obscured and displayed the solid form beneath. Atop her head, nestled between flowing aurous waves, a luxurious if simple gold crown of laurel. While some may have called her matronly and meant it as an insult, Demeter preferred to think of it as a maturity typically lacking of many within the capital. [i]And if that isn’t a lack of physical maturity.[/i] Her eyes caught Zeus’ form, her head bowing reflexively in response as she closed the distance to him. 

“My King, how often Fates take away and give with the same hand. My condolences for this tragedy.” The goddess paused just a moment, body straightening from obeisance. She may have never been equal to Zeus, he had been first among them, but as their numbers decreased against the demi-gods, they were more alike than not...at least in Demeter’s mind. “I look forward to our continued partnership of course. I stand ready for whatever you may need of GAIA.”

[i]Tragedy?[/i] The word caught him off guard, but of course… “Demeter,” he addressed her. Strange feelings welled up in him, the vestiges of a dream that he’d never dreamt, at least not in this lifetime. With internal rage, he bottled up the bewildering, truncated desires. And of course he was speaking again in the next breath, as though that brief inner turmoil was nothing, “in times so trying as these, your steadfast presence is appreciated. Our fortunes grow together; let our partnership continue evermore, and the rains shall nourish your harvests for so long as the skies are blue.”

[i]’That seemed quite eloquent!’[/i] the king thought to himself as he turned toward the next of them.

"Most eloquent words, My King," Apollo said, nodding before gracefully dropping so far down into a bow that their fingers touched the ground, a respectful act of proskynesis. Unlike Demeter, Apollo was hardly richly appointed, yet the youthful beauty of her false skin shone through regardless, finely sculpted and absent any sign of advanced age. Rising, she presented the small box to him, inviting him to open it.

"I know that no gift can truly soothe the tragedy that has befallen us, but, nonetheless, I bring to you a solemn contribution," she said, opening the box to reveal a finely etched statuette of a powerfully built centaur, clad in the armor of war -- though there was only one, the details of the statuette were etched to practical perfection, every little hair, contour, and fold of fabric carved in incredible miniature, clad in gems and tints to further enhance the illusion of ceremonial armor. "From myself and my children, to you."

Zeus nodded appreciatively. “Apollo, this tribute from you and yours…” The words trawled off for a moment. Now the king stumbled in his speech, but in part it was also because he was staring. Something about Apollo always struck him the wrong way. “...is appreciated,” he finished. He reached into the box, lifting the centaur out and running a finger across its veneered armor, over the rippling muscles of its powerful limbs. A fine work of art, indeed. He placed it back into its container. “But of course, I’m sure you foresaw as much,” he told Apollo as he handed the box to the Majordomo.

Next his gaze drifted over to find –

Before it could alight on any one figure, there was a stirring in the assembled crowd outside the sanctum wall, and the outer demigods and attendants hastily parted to open the way for whoever was behind them. Beyond the gate, an odd cortege was approaching upon the marble-paved great alley of Olympus. Artemis, the Maiden of the Hunt, approached in long, graceful yet firm strides, looking every bit as though she had just emerged from her woodlands - unblemished yet unadorned in her simple garb, the fabled quiverless silver bow slung over her shoulder. At her heels trotted a canine beast the likes of which none present had ever seen: as tall as the goddess' hip at the shoulder, sleek and lean like a sighthound, but shaggy and muscular like a wolf, with an arrow-like pointed snout and a cool, predatory intelligence in its beady eyes.

Behind the two of them came the towering silhouette of a moon-elk, crowned with a magnificent pair of antlers. It bore on its back something that could have seemed a bundle of rags at first sight, but that clearly struggled to remain upright - the figure of a badly disheveled woman, her clothes in tatters, scratched and bruised skin underneath, hair a wild tangle and glassy eyes half-alive with exhaustion. As she passed through the gate, Artemis snapped something at a nearby guardsman - the keen ears of the divine could discern [i]“This is my guest,”[/i], whereupon the hoplite led away the unusually docile elk and its doddering charge - before advancing down the cleared path with nary a glance at the gathered pantheon. Her steely eyes were fixed on Zeus, and they passed over him with the uncomfortable thoroughness of the huntress.

“Lord Zeus,” she bowed rigidly as she took her place in the assembly, barely swerving in her steps, “It is always a pleasure to receive your summons.” Nonetheless, there was as little cheer in her voice as ever. She gave an almost imperceptible nod with her head, and the hound came to seat itself at Zeus’ feet, looking up at him with unflappably patient expectancy. “May Labros be your loyal companion from this day, [i]and your steadfast guardian.[/i]”

An acknowledgement, and perhaps an admonition, hidden in her words and gift like a stalking tiger in the grass. Boldly, Zeus reached down to pat the strange dog on its head and rub its coat; it seemed that the animal already knew its master, for it only licked the king’s hand in response. “This canine – Labros, did you name him? – pleases me. And your presence gladdens me even more still, in these trying times.” Yet his gaze wandered to the retreating sight of the moon-elk and its charge as the soldier escorted them away, his eyes narrowing. “And who might be your companion yonder?”

“She is someone Hermes thought meet to introduce to me, for reasons he did not care to explain,” the goddess’ brow creased as she swept her eyes about the plaza, vainly seeking the fleet-footed messenger of Olympus, “His carelessness with mortals will be the doom of him someday.”

“Says the goddess who carelessly dragged this one all the way up Mt. Olympus.” Drawled Hermes’ familiar, smarmy voice. He then walked into view from behind the Moon Elk, as though he had been standing there the whole time. The woman mounted upon the Elk visibly [i]flinched[/i] with a plaintive whine.

“Felicitations once again, All-Father.” Hermes tipped the brim of his helmet to Zeus. “I will present my offering to you in time, but for the moment I am merely here to heckle. I would not dream of cutting in line at such a prestigious affair.”

Zeus cast one final nod in Artemis’ direction, then directed his gaze towards the messenger god. His face was stoic, and he had few words to say. “Timely as ever, Hermes.”

“I can hear my name on others’ tongues. Always best to ensure it has a little bite to it.” Hermes quipped.

“Can you?” Zeus whimsically asked, his straight lips budging ever so slightly to make a bemused look.

Then, stepping past Hermes was but one of the forms of GULA’s EMUs, moving past the other gods without so much as greeting them or their lord. The single optic did not move or acknowledge any of the gazes that would befall it. The robot evidently cared little for the formalities or the talks of the gods - but why would it? Their words would mean nothing to its eternal duty, only focusing on whatever task it was designating as important. In this instant, the voting and designation of the new Emergency Acting Captain.

“GULA, wait by the table,” the king told the EMU. “You’ll get to say your piece in due time.”

What sounded like wings fluttering from the distance was getting closer and closer to the gods below. The clouds parted and revealed a group of Cupids flying and tossing pink rose petals for the deities below as they approached Zeus and the other members of the Pantheon that had gathered. Two Cupids were carrying a wooden bench attached to an archway filled with blooming pink roses. Sitting at the bench was Eros, the God of Love, smiling and giggling joyously. They were wearing a pristine white gown that hugged their androgynous figure with see-through laced-sewn rose motifs over heart-shaped cut-outs at their lower sides that subtly revealed their hips. The dress flared at the knees to give an elegant, full-looking skirt with pink roses decorating the hemline and train. It featured a heart-shaped bodice and off-shoulder laces with long white sleeves. The love god also wore a white high-neck embroidered choker with a pink heart-shaped gemstone on it, a veiled tiara with the same smaller crystal at its center delicately nestled on their golden cherub-like hair, and subtle make-up that highlighted the timeless allure of their face and the rich redness of their eyes. 

The Cupids descended on the ground and Eros slowly got off of their seat before the Cupids flew away. The love god approached the gods with their hands folded in front of them and a serene smile on their beautiful face. “Greetings, God-King. I humbly bow before you in servitude.” Eros said with a deep respectful curtsy, their voice light and melodic with a hint of playfulness. “My apologies for being late. I needed to make sure my work is well and accounted for before I could leave. I promise I will not be so tardy in future events.” They put their hand on their chest and bowed apologetically before Zeus. They presented a long red box to him and opened it, revealing a tear-dropped gem with golden chain. The gem’s contents was a shifting liquid of bright pink and red. “I present to you a gift, a necklace that exudes a calming aura and makes its wearer more charming and admirable to those who lay their eyes on its wearer. May it aid you in bringing an era of unity and prosperity.” Eros humby said, bowing while presenting the gift.  

“Good tidings to you and yours as well, Eros. You’ve been missed, friend, but I see why you waited so long. This new body of yours is striking!” the king greeted back. 

Eros laughed and twirled around as the petals from the flowers on their dress fluttered around with them. "I admit it took me a while to pick out a new title bearer, God King. I am glad that you find my new bearer appealing to the eyes. With this new body of mine, I will serve you dutifully." The love god said with a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts. Beneath that smile, Eros was sad about the passing of their own old friend though of course, heeding Hermes' words last night, they should still be very careful with their actions before this Zeus.

“And another gift? How shall I repay all of you?” the king ran his fingers through the gold chain and held it up, looking at the jewel’s scintillation in the light. “I suppose it’s as good a time as any to charm,” he laughed to Eros before slipping the chain over his head. He fixed the jewel to not be tucked under the fold of his toga, and then he looked to the last of them – [i]Hephaestus[/i].

Or Coeus, or the madman, or the cat. The clone had heard many a mocking name about that one sniggered in private. “Don’t be shy, Engineer of the Gods,” he called out to Coeus on his hoverboard. “They say that you and my dear Athena have the sharpest minds of us all. I’d like to think I might come somewhere near a distant third place,” he jested.

Hearing this, Coeus’ whiskers quivered with delight. ‘’Nonsense your Cosmic Eminence, you make up the apex of minds.’’ The Cat giddily but sincerely replied.
‘’I was first to arrive here I’ll have you know. Whether it be Late Zeus or Zeus Prime, I serve Zeus – the Lord of the Heavens. And [i]AS[/i] Lord of the Heavens I felt this could – perhaps – be adequately reflected with a new innovation of mine…’’

The king’s nostrils flared. “Do not call me that! It’s Zeus! Not Prime – just Zeus!”

‘’Eep! Of course. I mean, Err. In context of– err, nevermind, your Galactic Opulence…’’ He stammered tremblingly as his paws mashed several buttons in his hoverboard installation. 
“As for my gift: let us see…’’ Coeus began to nuzzle over notes and hidden alloy drawers. ‘’…I have it rrriight…’’ He cast a quick look beneath the desk – not there either: ‘’….at home!’’ 
He cast an uncomfortable look from over his bureau to meet Zeus’ very judgmental gaze. ‘’Fret not, your Astral Magnanimence. My lab pantheras are in the process of wrapping up the gift. Wrapping up with a gift wrap, even. It shall be delivered with all due haste on very, very short notice.’’

An incredulous Zeus scoffed at the whole situation. “And what is this… [i]’gift’[/i] that you intend to present? Or is it a surprise, too?”

‘’Hohohoho…’’ The cat-god giggled with anticipatory glee. ‘’It is… indeed… a Hyperneutron Thermobaric Pantherion Explosive Shell by which to –[b]SMITIFY[/b] - your foes. And I am reminded just now: given its volatile nature I took precaution NOT to bring it to this congregation-- ‘’ He finished reassuringly.
‘’--It awaits you in the Hephaestean lair, near readiness of deployment.’’
“A bomb?” the king looked even more incredulous. “A [i]neutron[/i] bomb?” His consternation melted into full-blown laughter, like this was the best joke he’d heard in weeks. “Glorious! A gift befitting a god!” His smile was so wide that every last one of the clone’s pearl-white teeth showed.

All chafing from Coeus’ mishap in calling him ‘Prime’ was forgotten in an instant. Zeus took a step forward, but rather than falling onto the ground his foot seemingly found purchase upon empty air, and then the other one too. He floated upward, the soft hum of his anti-gravitation apparatus overpowered by his gleeful laugh. He came to float in the air right before Coeus’ own craft, and he leaned forward and over onto it to pat the cat on the head. “Actually, I think that I may have a target in mind already,” he announced. The words sent shivers down spines and made faces grow pale, but then Zeus fell softly back onto the ground and looked around his assembled court. “But we can speak of that later today… All will come in due time.”

Coeus merely nodded in agreement, but dared not speak and push his luck further with mischosen words. With eyes that smiled and a mirthful countenance about the rest of his visage, Zeus returned to Hellas with a fall so gentle that it scarcely made a sound.

A distant commotion stole Zeus’ attention, but not before he called out to the cat above, “Thank you, Engineer! You’ve won your king’s favor today.”

A raucous sound could be heard across the labyrinthine corridors of Olympus. It had started as the opening of ancient, rarely used gates and the subsequent closing as if tectonic plates had crossed over one another. Yelps, wails, and cries spanned the length of the High Pantheon’s most prestigious temple. The clanking of armored feet followed the desperate exclamations of departing deities, separated or tossed aside by the intruder high in the revelries of the mountain. If one had paid close attention, then they could hear the stomp of [i]multiple[/i] greaves beyond the throng of noise. The moans of unnatural entities pierced the howls of terror, only accompanied by fleeing feet.

[color=red][center][b]“ZEUS!”[/b][/center][/color]

The utterance was a crack of thunder in the midst of a storm, the roiling of magma beneath the crust of Hellas, and the stampeding beats of a centaur horde. Deities, demi-gods, and servants alike began to eagerly divide on the path of the grand boulevard leading up to the courtyard of the High King. Bright, celebratory faces were replaced by the shock and horror of the interloper. The [i]things[/i] that followed the voice were the first to be seen. Great amalgamations of twisted obsidian with blotches of necrotic flesh beneath talons, plates, and spikes. Each was titanic in relative proportion to the attending deities, rising up on feet, claw, tail, or air. Instruments of war were held aloft in their various extremities, lowered and waiting by the command of their chthonic overlord. Their visage was torn between bastardized hoplites in nightmaric form and great Hellenic terrors of Old Arith.

“Ah, he’s finally here,” the Lord of Olympus had meanwhile stated to nobody in particular. He opened his mouth again to command the Sacred Band into positions to block the oncoming horde of monsters and maintain some semblance of order, but the soldiers were already scrambling to do as much at the direction of their captain — the Majordomo already quietly whispered the order to that officer, unbeknownst and unseen by Zeus and all but the most perceptive of the rest. 

[color=red][center][b][i]“ZEUS!”[/i][/b][/center][/color]

The object of terror incarnate became clear as it stepped out onto the final stretch of the boulevard that transformed into the courtyard proper. An unnaturally tall, broad man in dark armored plating stepped into view from within his cohort of nightmares. Motifs of the dead, thorny protrusions, and pipes full of pulsating fluid adorned the surface of the man’s armor. Utop his skull was a hoplite’s helmet with four great horns and a plume of black-red hue. His facial features were hidden beneath an artificial darkness of the wargear, only glaring red eyes staring out from tinted lenses. Across his shoulders lay a swarm of black, writhing darkness in the image of an unfurled cape. In one of his clawed gauntlets lay a bident of perpetual midnight, lowered and materialized from a sphere within the polearm.

[color=red][center][b][i][u]“ZEUS!”[/u][/i][/b][/center][/color]

The deity stomped through the boulevard, tossing aside those individuals that refused to part from his warpath. Those that had been thrown to the ground were greeted by one of the interloper’s cohort, a young man in obsidian plating with unkempt, black hair and a shaven face. An unarmored hand reached down to each, pulling them up from their stupor and apologizing by gifting small trinkets from the chthonic realm. The youth would shortly return to the cohort of nightmare machines, lowering his emerald gaze in frustration as he followed. Armored footfalls halted at the entrance of the courtyard with the leading figure stepping out into the throng of the High Pantheon, followed only by the younger man.

[color=red][b]"ZEUS![/b][/color] Come to me, elder brother, and greet me with your thunderous laughter! Show me your corporeal form and prove your undeath! Bequeath your cadaver unto me! Grant my request in the name of [color=red][b]Hades!”[/b][/color]

His voice was unhinged, uncontrollable, and ludicrous. It sounded as if it came from the vocal cords of a lunatic, despairing in the insanity of their own mind. At the same time that it was deep, booming, and dominating, it further cracked with desperation, despair, and anguish. Hades spread his arms wide in gesticulation, the glaring eyes falling level with the rest of the High Pantheon and honing in on the facsimile that proclaimed themselves as High King. The scion behind him, Zagreus, bit his lip in silence as his progenitor roused the ire of Olympus. Champions of the Underworld awaited silently with no shortage of groans, short wails, and insectile chattering.

Dozens of guards now stood to face off the monstrosities of the underworld, their weapons still sheathed -- for the moment -- but their hands hovering precariously close to the grips. The Sacred Band, demigods all, were well equipped and disciplined, supposedly fearless. Still, a few of them looked at least shaken.

Fortunately all the court’s eyes were not upon those soldiers, but their king. Zeus approached the hulking Hades with measured and steady strides, chin upraised, and something closer to a haughty and arrogant pride than to fear. He was nervous of course -- scared, even; [i]who wouldn’t be?[/i] --, but he masked it exceptionally well.

“Hades,” the [i]new[/i] Zeus boomed,  his regal walk not stopping until he came to stand about five paces from the chthonian lord. Labros the hound had followed his new master intently and stood by the king’s side. “We’ve been [i]anticipating[/i] your arrival! The grief hurts; we all feel it also, but you mustn’t let it consume you. Zeus died, but through me, he lives on.” Zeus let that ferment just long enough for a blink or two, then gestured at Hades’ power armor and his veritable horde of ‘shades’. “Your [i]precautions[/i] here are warranted of course -- if something could befall the greatest of us, then are any of us truly safe? But here and now we have numbers, and I think it best to project strength and confidence, not paranoia… Have your shades stand down.”

The chthonic king did not respond for several seconds, staring unflinchingly at the smaller version of the High King before him. Zeus’ reflection was evident in the crimson lenses of Hades in his staredown. Tension filled the air across the courtyard, the five paces separating their distance thick with palpable tensity. He threateningly loomed over the facsimile, his fists continuing to clench silently by his side and his bident remaining unmoved. In the silence, one could hear the quiet rage of the deity as a crackling fire within a furnace. Then, a rumbling echoed from the helmet. A harsh bark more akin to a cough than an utterance of words. It was laughter, rough as gravel and deep as a volcano.

“Yes… yes… that makes sense! Your soul was not among those attending my halls! Brother, why would you send a message like that? I had been prepared to storm Olympus to kill your usurper.” Hades adopted an entirely new tone at the revelation that occurred to him, his tone switching from the eye of a storm to the light rainfall of a nimbus. His fists unclenched as the bident dematerialized into a dark sphere, attaching itself to the side of his powered armor. In one move the helmet was removed to reveal the sickly, pale features of the chthonic lord. A thin smile poked out from the black facial hair overlapped by the long, dark hair that trailed over his narrow face. Azurite orbs traced the prestigious features of the High King, relishing all the details of his sibling’s new form. 

His head then suddenly turned away from Zeus to the shade champions standing behind him, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. The chthonic king raised a clawed gauntlet, holding a single digit in gesture to the nightmare automata. “All but one of you, leave. Attend the passage. Return to Charon.” Wordlessly, all but one of the automata groaned within their cyclopean gait. Their antediluvian presence meandered down the boulevard, the semi-sentient biomechanical shades finding their way back to the hole they festered up from without any incident. The one that remained was a towering monstrosity of crimson eyes, elongated claws, and obsidian plate. The shade champion appeared as a demonic entity of Old Arith myth. 

“Accept this champion of the chthonic realm, elder brother. As an apology for the intrusion and a gift to celebrate your new form. ” Hades offered, gesturing to the nightmare creature behind him with one of his clawed gauntlets. Many knew of the strength of the underworld’s denizens, rivaled only by the chimeric beasts of the grove or centaurs of the plains. By the side of the shade, Zagreus released a breath of relief that his father had fallen back into normalcy to a degree. The relief of everyone else was palpable, too; like a sizzling bottle that had just been uncorked, the tension had threatened to erupt into madness, but in the end it had died without so much as any froth spilling over.

Zeus closed the remaining distance between himself and Hades, his hound bravely matching his every footstep and coming to face the mighty champion -- Labros, for all his bravery and loyalty, seemed like a sand dune blown up to the foot of a mountain. He gave his fellow (but subordinate!) king an endearing pat on the shoulder and offered him a handshake. “You’re a good brother,” he declared then, for all to hear.

“Do not scare me like that again, brother, the whole of the Underworld could hear me wail in despair.” The abyssal king said with substantial worry weaving into his grim tone. Zeus blinked and his jaw might have clenched an almost imperceptible amount, but he said nothing. One of Hades’ gauntlets mimicked the gesture of the High King, patting the smaller version of Zeus on his shoulder. His other gauntlet reached out and accepted the hand of his fellow king, shaking it firmly and warmly as one would their own bloodborne sibling. The chthonic lord made no movement to embrace the other, understanding the political atmosphere around them finally. 

The clone then cocked his head toward the looming shadow of the chosen shade. “Well then, do you have a name, Champion?”

“The chosen champion’s name is Zeuxidamus. Taken from the king of a small, warrior city-state of Hellas, your Highness. Unlike most shades, he has limited sentience and can respond to all requests. Further, he can dip into his memory to guide warriors of his own.” The spritely, energetic voice of Zagreus stated as he moved to answer for the shade. The scion of the Underworld bowed before the regent of Olympus, dropping to a single knee and inclining his head in reverence. The youthful man was a picturesque version of the chthonic king, albeit shorter and more lithe. Healthy, lively skin in place of Hades’ sickly pale. Unkempt, black hair wholly unlike the deity of the Underworld. He remained under the watchful eye of the newly risen High King, silently paying penance for his father’s transgressions.

Zeus looked upon Zeuxidamus with satisfaction, but the shade didn’t hold his attention for long. His gaze drifted down to the scion. “Zagreus! I remember you fondly and well, nephew.” The Highest allowed the youth (who was truly his elder by a great deal) to prostrate himself below for a few moments before offering his bejeweled hand to lift him back to his feet. When Zagreus accepted it, then a tiny, almost inaudible snap of a sound: just a tiny shock. For a split second, Zeus’ pupils darted toward Hades from the corner of his eyes, eyes that silently whispered, [i]’Don’t do this again.’[/i] 

Or was it all imagined? The threat was so subtle that Zagreus didn’t even notice, and Hades surely second-guessed it. But then Zagreus was back on his feet just half a moment later, pulled up gently and yet so firmly that his feet almost seemed to leave the ground for a moment. The king possessed what seemed like unnatural vigor -- in reality, just a clever and flawless use of the anti-gravitation engines hidden beneath the king’s toga.

“Did I shock you?” Zeus murmured quietly with a slight chuckle. “Just some static that must have been left on my fingers. Forgive me, Zagreus; I still need to familiarize myself with these old trinkets again.” Those ‘trinkets’, the rings upon his finger, were of course among the Thunder Bringer’s greatest accouterments, nearly capable of hurling lightning, though the late Zeus had used them with great restraint.

The scion of the Underworld felt stunned for only a moment, feeling the shock coursing through his right hand and into his powered armor. The facial features of Zagreus contorted before shuffling back into a placid gaze, failing to understand the prospect of what had happened. Regardless, he gave the High King an energetic, toothy grin as the scion had always done with his uncle. Internally, the chthonic prince could feel a pang of fear creep up within his breast at the possibility of it being truly an accident. Despite his humble demeanor, Zagreus was more aware of his surroundings than his chthonic father.

“Lord Uncle, accepting even the smallest portion of your lightning is an honor! Even if it was by mere accident. Formalities aside, Uncle, it’s nice to see you.” Zagreus replied, nearly ready to fall to a kneel again in the middle of his Olympian etiquette. His emerald eyes reflected a feigned benevolence, the scion’s mind sharper and keener than his father’s twisted personality. As Zeus lost interest in him, the chthonic prince strayed to the side of the chthonic king. Whatever had passed between himself and the High King had not been noticed by Hades, the patron deity of the Underworld’s mind preoccupied with the transpiring events.

Zeuxidamus, the great shade champion gifted to Zeus, lingered outside of the courtyard under the careful watch of the Sacred Band. Imperceptibly programmed to follow the orders of the biocoded individual, the biomechanical automata remained eternally still as events continued around it.

In that moment it was hard to even think of the late Zeus when the new one was right there, looking around contentedly. He was the striking image of the original and yet so much more youthful and energetic, so much less poised. “We’re all here,” the king brightly declared. “All except my [i]beloved wife[/i].”

Venom dripped from his tongue, but he could only seethe for a moment before the palace doors were opened once again and Hera was walked out between two guards. She wore a black dress, intricately woven and of magnificent fabric, but unadorned… a dress of mourning. She did not look happy; Zeus looked like he was about to kill somebody. Instead, he swallowed and his facial muscles twitched for a moment or two before he forced himself to smile.

‘’Hello dear mother!’’ Hebe innocently waved a hand towards Hera. ‘’We were all waiting for you! Almost the whole family is here now! It’s just like old times, isn’t it?’’ She beamed with a smile, her hands clasped in gladness. Hera embraced her beautiful daughter and softly murmured something with the words, “...my sweet…” mixed into it. 

Zeus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but at least Hebe’s innocent remark had defused his anger, if only slightly. He afforded them a moment, but then looked toward an awaiting Zelos. “Majordomo?” the king prompted, diverting the eyes away from him for long enough that he could steal a comfortable breath or two.

The First Servant Zelos stepped into the foreground with impeccable decorum. “Esteemed lords and ladies,” he addressed them all, “there are a great many things that must be discussed on this day. The Highest Palace is pleased to host all of you and your scions, but His Majesty the King would first dine with only his High Pantheon. Refreshments and food will be provided to all other attendants on the far side of the courtyard.”

And sure enough, right there near the palace’s doors and deliberately within sight of the gates and onlookers, there was a huge banquet table prepared for about a dozen. Much further away lining a distant corner of the courtyard were longer and less opulent tables meant to accommodate a much larger rabble -- the ‘kiddy tables’, so to speak, meant to keep the various scions, minor gods, and even the occasional demigods out of earshot and out of the way. The [i]real[/i] business was almost at hand.