Unbeknownst to the citizens of Earth, chaos is brewing. So far, several successors of the Greek Gods have been Awakened, but there are still just a few more before their adventure can truly begin. Fortunately for these last few, they shall be aided by the already Awakened successors - a luxury (if one could call it that) that said successors did not get. At least they'll get a travelling companion as they make their way over to Central Park, NYC.

---

Friday, 2pm. The office was getting ready to leave, if they hadn't already snuck out extra early. Lara still had a bit of work to finish up. Well, an application for a wildlife reserve that she'd been trying to complete all day. Shocker that she was expected to do her job while she was at work. Mainly taking and transferring calls, or being lumped with photocopying or faxing documents. No one stuck by her desk long enough to see her computer screen, though she'd switch tabs, just in case. It was exhausting being nice to people that didn't quite seem to care, and her smile dropped as soon as the last person left the office. Security was still on site, elsewhere in the building, and the cleaners would be around soon, so she wasn't concerned with being locked in. She couldn't think of much worse than that happening.

About half an hour must have passed when she heard a distant thud or a crash from elsewhere in the building. It caught Lara's attention, but she put it down to the building being old, or perhaps one of the elevators making a weird noise. She was not going to investigate, that's how people in horror movies got killed. She had just about finished anyway, so she submitted her application, and prepared to leave.
She listened out for any other odd sounds. Silence. That was that, then. She would just leave and get home, and ignore the weird gut feeling she had that was practically screaming at her that it hadn't just been a regular 'old building' sound.

Lara turned away from the door of the office entrance to pick up her bag. Typical that she heard someone entering the office as she did so, but she assumed it was the cleaners.
"I was just leav-" Lara started, as she turned back around, but stopped short when the person before her was not someone she recognised. Someone holding a scythe of some sort. Definitely not the cleaners. Her professional tone dropped, as she asked, coldly, "Who are you?"
"Who I am doesn't matter. All that matters is that you are eliminated." the young man responded, his voice weirdly echoy.
Before Lara could ponder over how weird the phrasing was and the situation she was now apparently in, the young man lunged at her, swinging the scythe towards her. Lara moved backwards, the blade just catching her arm as she did so, to which she hissed in pain. Shit that hurt, but she wasn't going not fight back. Grabbing a nearby hefty binder, Lara threw it at the man, hitting him square in the chest so he stumbled back a little.

Before anything else could happen, Lara blacked out. At least, it seemed like she did. Everything went dark, and a voice spoke to her. Gentle, but commanding.
"Lara. Listen carefully. My name is Persephone, and you are my chosen Successor. This is not the most ideal circumstance for us to communicate for the first time. The Titans are determined to break out of Tartarus and reclaim the Earth. Use the lantern I grant you to get out of here and find the other successors. Trust your intuition."
With that, her vision returned, and she was holding a bronze storm lantern, the light glowing brightly. She was still reeling from the experience. It felt like she was brimming with a renewed energy. She thrust the lantern towards the young man, the light shining brighter as the would-be attacker flinched, dazzled by the light.
It was at this point someone else ran into the office. Another stranger that Lara was currently unsure as to whether they were another enemy, or somehow some form of aid.

Tyler Hartley had spent the last ten minutes staring at the mirror on his bed. It was pink and gold, very beautiful, and definitely not something he had owned before the incident happened. That was the problem. Well. One of the problems.

The other problems included the Sirens at the brand launch, the people who had walked toward them like they wanted to die, the voice of Aphrodite in his head, and the very casual announcement that the Titans were apparently trying to escape Tartarus.

Tyler sat on the edge of his bed in yesterday’s outfit, his blond hair a mess and his phone buzzing nonstop beside him. Missed calls. Texts. Notifications. People asking if he was okay. People asking what had happened. People tagging him in shaky videos from the event. He had not opened any of them. Instead, he stared at the mirror.

“Okay,” he said slowly, pointing at it. “So either I’m having the worst stress response anyone has ever had, or Greek mythology is real.”

The mirror, unhelpfully, reflected him back.

Tyler frowned. “Right. Great. Love that for me.”

Aphrodite’s words replayed in his head. “Find the others. Trust your intuition.”

Tyler scoffed. “Yeah, that’s really helpful… No offense,” he muttered, though he was not sure whether gods could hear offense from several miles away, “but that is terrible advice.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. No voice from the heavens. No dramatic gust of wind. No goddess appearing in his bedroom to clarify the instructions. Which, honestly, would have been rude but at least useful.

Tyler waited anyway. The mirror remained a mirror. “Fantastic,” he said. “Love a vague queen.”

He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the ceiling. His room looked the same as it always did. Clothes he had meant to put away. Skincare lined up on his dresser. A pair of shoes near the closet. A half-empty water bottle on the nightstand. Completely normal, except for the magical hand mirror sitting on his bed and the fact that his entire understanding of reality had apparently been fake.

His phone buzzed again. Tyler glanced at it, saw another notification, and immediately looked away. He could not deal with people right now. Which was a strange thing for him to think, considering people were sort of his whole thing.

Then he felt it. Not a voice. Not a vision. Just a weird feeling. Tyler sat up slowly. It was faint at first, barely more than a thought that did not feel like his own. A vague sense of direction. Something was tugging at him.

He stared at the mirror. “No.”

The feeling did not go away.

“No,” he repeated, louder this time. “Absolutely not. I am not following mysterious magical vibes. That is how people die in horror movies, and I have excellent survival instincts when I’m not being attacked by evil mermaids.” Sirens. They had been Sirens. He hated that he knew that now.

Tyler pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh my god.” Then he paused. “Sorry. Gods. Whatever.” He picked up the mirror carefully, like it might bite him. “I said no,” he told it.

The pull remained.

Tyler closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He had auditions he was supposed to follow up on. Messages to answer. Probably at least one brand contact wondering if he was alive in a way that was less about concern and more about whether the sponsored post was still going up. He had a life. A messy, stressful, deeply curated life, but it was his.

And yet. Somewhere out there, there were others. Other Successors. Other people who had apparently been dragged into this nightmare with equally terrible explanations.

Tyler opened his eyes. “Oh, I hate this. Ugh, fine!” He stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, then stopped and looked down at himself. Yesterday’s outfit was wrinkled, his hair was a disaster, and he looked like the before picture.

He turned toward the mirror on instinct. Then caught himself. “No,” he said sharply. “We are not fixing our hair before answering the call of destiny.”

He looked at his reflection. Who was he kidding? Of course he was. “Okay. Maybe just a little.”

It was a lovely spring day in Chicago, and as was his habit, Maxwell was up early to go running. He'd had a cup of coffee and a light breakfast, then walked the few blocks to the train station to take it out to Millennium Park. He didn't always go to the park to run, but he liked to when he had the chance. There were numerous paths through the park and the adjacent parks, enough that he could run for an hour or so while enjoying the scenery.

He was just settling into a good rhythm when a man with -- was that a spear?! -- charged at him. At first Max didn't realize the man was heading for him. But their gazes locked, and at that point there could be no mistaking it. "I think you've got the wrong person!" he cried, frantic and more than a little frightened. The other guy just bared his teeth in aggressive expression, and lunged spear-first at Max. It was all he could do to dodge. The second attack came just as quickly, but this time Max was more focused, and actually tried grabbing the haft of the spear to disarm his opponent.

That was a mistake. The moment he touched the weapon, pain swept through his body. It was overwhelming, like he was on fire. He fell to his knees, hard, and then blacked out -- or thought he did, at least. Certainly everything went dark.

"Maxwell." The voice was warm. Kind. Safe. "You must listen to me. I am Hestia, and you are my successor. I'm sorry to spring this upon you so suddenly, but I do not have a choice. The Titans seek to escape Tartarus and reclaim the earth. You must use the weapons I grant you to survive, and find the other successors. Trust your intuition."

And suddenly he was lying on the ground back in the park, only now he held a solid wooden staff. The pain was gone, at least for the moment, but his attacker was bearing down on him, spear leading. Maxwell had no time to figure out what exactly was happening. He rolled away and to his feet, and then took off running. The staff was only a hindrance at the moment, but some instinct triggered, and suddenly it was no longer in his hand -- but neither had it fallen to the ground. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! Max didn't worry about it too much. The spear-wielding man was still on his tail, and showed no sign of giving up.

The morning had dawned as normal as they came, Azalea got up and had her breakfast and coffee before heading to work at the greenhouse. Today was her day on the schedule to tend to the flowers there and cut any ready for sale, the people who worked at the flower shop she worked at were on a rotation for the greenhouse. Every worker spent one day in there a week, tending to the flowers and making sure everything was healthy and able to turn a profit. Azalea loved greenhouse day, because she loved being around flowers, anything green really. She had always loved nature and plants, had always felt an affinity for them. Flowers didn't stand you up or make fun of you in high school because you liked to talk to plants like they were people. They didn't call you a tree hugger for caring about nature, because they were nature, and they couldn't talk on behalf of being plants.

She had been tending to their many, many different types of roses when she heard it. There had been a crash outside, a loud one, and Azalea looked up with a curious expression on her face. There greenhouses, the three separate ones they had, were all kept on a private lot. There was a gate, and it had been closed, and locked as far as she knew. There was no way anyone could have gotten in, unless she'd accidentally left it unlocked. No, that couldn't be it. Hand tiller still in hand, Azalea walked around to the other side of the table she'd been at and exited the greenhouse.

Standing in the open space in the middle of the greenhouses was a large fountain, and it had been topped with a giant winged angel, all elegant looking. Azalea hand't chosen or designed it, but she had liked it all the same. The angel was currently lying smashed on the ground, Azalea saw as she took a few steps out of the house, eyebrows furrowing as she looked up at the water fountain. The water was acting weird, taking shape, and Azalea swore she saw a hooded person holding...was that an oar? What was a hooded figure carrying an oar doing here? Azalea's mind reeled as she stood there, really unsure how to react. Her jaw dropped slightly as the water began to take the shape of...an elf? What on earth was happening?

"Azalea Aster, successor of Demeter. I have chosen you because there is a grave plot, and the world needs you. The Titans plan to escape their prison, to escape Tartarus and reclaim the earth as their own. They send successors, this woman is planning to kill you. You must fight back, you must find the others, and you must save the earth. Trust your instincts, trust your fellow successors, and trust in yourself. Hurry, time is growing short. "

What the what what? Azalea looked down as she noticed a light surrounding her hand tiller, watched it morph into a hand-held sickle that looked gold in color with a wooden handle and feathers hanging off the handle. Demeter, apparently, was the cause of that. The Greek Goddess Demeter, Azalea was apparently her successor. The redhead couldn't bring herself to wrap her head around it, it seemed too far-fetched and yet there she stood with a weapon in her hands that had just appeared randomly while some woman with an oar in her hand's was planning to kill her with water elves. Shaking her head slightly, Azalea sighed.

"Well crap, here we go, I guess," She said and rushed forward without thinking, slashing the water and watching it explode into a bunch of tiny bubbles that rained down on her a second later. The woman with the oar in her hands thrust her hood back and gasped. Apparently, she wasn't planning on Azalea fighting back.

"You've awakened, I must inform the others," She said and then took off. Well, that was anticlimactic. Why hadn't she attacked? Azalea looked down at the weapon in her hands, the woman had said she must tell the others. So, she wasn't working alone. But then Azalea remembered what the voice in her head had said.

"Trust your instincts, trust your fellow successors, and trust in yourself," Right, Azalea was supposed to find the others. But where was she supposed to look? She could feel a sort of tugging in her mind, and she glanced down at the sickle in her hand again.

"A little more information would have been nice, but I've seen enough of these movies to know how this goes. So this weapon is like some homing device right?" She asked and then held the weapon out in front of her, expecting it to pulse or make a noise or do...something. But it did nothing, and Azalea sighed and dropped her hand back down to her side.

"Thanks for that, Demeter. Ya know, you could have asked first before completely destabilizing my life. Going on some grand quest wasn't on the schedule today. Next you're going to tell me I have super powers and girl, I did not sign up for that,"

Nothing, not a response, the wind was making more of an impact. Azalea ran her hand through her hair and rolled her eyes. Somehow, it was easier to talk and speak her mind when the voice didn't talk back. Azalea wasn't normally this snarky. But she also normally wasn't awoken by a Greek Goddess and told she was some hero with some grand quest to save the world. Azalea frowned, how much weirder was her life about to get?

---

Since the attack, which she told her family was simply a freak accident…there was no way they’d believe a story about her talking to a supposed Greek God, nearly getting stabbed by some asshole with a sword and that she can now apparently both control metal like some comic book character, and manifest a freaking hammer; things had been a bit of a blur. After clearing the mess she’d still finished her sister’s car, but the work had been made harder by this constant nagging sensation to go find others like her.

She wasn’t overly impulsive by nature and if she’d just dropped everything and bailed, her folks would’ve had a missing persons report out by nightfall and been worried sick. Instead she cobbled up a story about some American friends of hers in Wisconsin needing a mechanic suddenly and asking if she could help. She’d said yes and might be gone for a bit as they were in a race series and she might stay until it was done. Feeling terrible about lying, but unable to think of a better way to cover, she set off.

Now she found herself in Chicago, a city she’d only ever seen on TV or in passing, walking towards a place called ‘Millennium Park’, based solely on a feeling…as stupid things to do, this must rate fairly highly. As the feeling got stronger, she picked up her pace; the one big upside to ‘Awakening’ at least was that her prosthetic right leg moved much more like a real one than it had prior, no matter how much she’d gotten used to it.

Reaching the park, a sudden urgency took her and she broke into a run, letting instinct guide her. Rounding a corner she saw a fellow heading towards her. He was dressed for a run and carrying a large stick and was being chased by another man with a goddamned spear. ”Fucking Hell…” She muttered as she found her Hammer suddenly in her hand.

”MOVE!” She yelled at the runner. The upside of an encounter like this in an urban space was that there was metal all around, and by instinct (and a little practice before she’d left home), she knew that with Hammer in hand she could mould it like clay with a thought. A steel bench ripped free of its concrete mounting and hurled towards the spearman, forcing him to dodge; which he did, only to get slammed by a trashcan from behind. He went down, and Sam reached out with her powers once more.

The spear tip gave much the same impression as the sword that asshole that’d tried to murder her hand carried. Instinctively she knew, like the sword, she could crush it…she also knew they were like her Hammer and any damage she did would be temporary, but that’d work for now. In an instant the head of the spear crumpled like tinfoil and the spearman shouted in rage as he staggered to his feet, only to get hit by the bench again, this time she twisted and warped it, driving the ends of it into the concrete to pin the attacker.

Between the running and power usage, Sam felt herself getting a bit winded, but the adrenaline was still high. Looking at the runner, she gasped. ”We…we should go…somewhere...I…I don’t know this city…”