Author's Note: So! I've been debating whether or not to answer reviews here, as I originally thought it interrupted the flow of the story – which is probably does, but ah well. I just wanted to thank everyone for reading, continuing to read and review. It does help me out a lot to know that everything's still making sense and flowing, because sometimes what's in my head doesn't always translate well onto paper. :) On that note, Dionysus refused to aide them and Apollo begrudgingly did. I do have a side story for Hermes boiling in my head, but I've been so focused on this one so far. It'll come soon! But thanks again! ;)
As wisdom, intelligence and philosophy had come to take over mortals and immortals alike, the word instinct had become like filth, bass and degrading. The idea of caving into animalistic impulses was disgusting in their minds and one had to be above that nonsense. Many had come to attribute the earlier gods with instinct, like Cronus, who had the desire to quiet his children but not the know-how. Uranus had suffered due to his instinctual desire to lie atop Gaia relentlessly. By these examples, it was no surprise that the Olympians had come to turn their noses to raw intuition. Zeus had elaborately created the council and their laws to prevent a repeat of power hungry monsters (despite the flaw that he had the ultimate decision). But not everyone turned on their gut instinct – most especially not Ares.
There were many things in life that Ares didn't think about. Now, that wasn't to say he was less intelligent than his family or plain stupid, as many had come to assume. It was no secret that he could never defeat Athena in a battle of wits, but almost anyone looked stupid compared to her. Ares' lifestyle was all based on this instinct and gut feeling that often got him into trouble but also won him many battles. The ferocious roar of a battle hungry god was disheartening and frightful, even when the odds were stacked against him. The sheer desire to destroy all in his path could make men turn tail and run, though that hardly saved them. Fear, Ares would argue if he had the tongue for it, was often more powerful than love, strength or wit. If the enemy felt fear, you had already won – in his opinion. Fear could drive people to kill one another, burn villages, rape, pillage – anything that seemed right in the moment of extreme passion.
Instinct, as many had noted over the years, had its tendencies and problems. Athena always hit the note of rape, which was often extremely difficult for Ares to justify. He just felt it in the moment and was unable to quench the feeling until he released it 'appropriately'. Of course he understood the idea that forcing a woman was horrible and he would rip apart anyone that would do that to his women, but that thought never crossed his mind in the moment. In this topic, he had simply let mind go blank. It was easier to do without doubt than wonder about the ethics of it all.
Of course, one of the many downsides to this lifestyle was the inability to know when to stop. Ares was infamous for not having the foresight to know when the battle was over – usually, that was when Athena stepped in. But here, on this plagued planet where he had the permission to only halt in the face of absolute annihilation, his raw need to destroy was empowered and ruthless. When the decree was given, he had disappeared from Olympus with his entourage in tow, consisting of three of his children (with Aphrodite) and Nike.
Nike was the only temperate one of the group and the only one keeping moderate track on their progress from country to country. She was a white winged goddess with long flowing red hair that was never tied back, even when it aggravated her in flight. As she swooped over the battlefield in progress, dodging grenades, bullets and any other ammunition screaming in the air, she searched for the gods that had long mixed in with the mortals. The easiest to find was always Adrestia, for women were scarce on the field and she refused to alter her dress for the modern era. Grinning at the goddess who still swung a sword, the two briefly nodded to each other and then continued their paths. Nike was forced to glide on her back and descend when a rocket launcher had set off in her general direction. She scowled down at the men below and swooped to the right, heading to a different direction of the chaos below. After an hour of search, she had given up on finding Phobos and Deimos and instead focused on Ares, who was much easier to find.
Despite the disorder the fighting had crumbled into, there was still a pattern of bodies and the manner in which they fought that led directly to Ares. The god was at the front of the battle, screaming through new hordes of enemies and leading the deranged charge. Most of the mortals were facing the west as the fighting was turning its sights towards Africa. Though the red sea had cut them off on the coast of Saudi Arabia, Ares had simply turned north and followed it until they worked their way into Egypt. Nike spread her arms out wide, trying to reach forward and fly faster towards the front of the line. When she heard the mighty war cry, she had to dive down and flip over to head a few feet back to the blood stained war.
"Ares!" she shouted over the noise of wailing bombs and gunfire. She landed next to him, her eyes focused on his arm, which had been grazed by a bullet but not slowed him down a bit. He didn't respond at first as he stepped toward his prey and slammed the sword into his gut. Pushing up against the man's body, Ares grinned when he could feel the mortal's heart racing and he pressed the sword in further, letting his blood further stain the sword and his hand. He then took a step back, put his foot on the man's chest and kicked him off the sword, allowing him the proper space to turn and face Nike.
"What?" he grunted, his eyes barely physically noticing her presence as he was too busy looking at the carnage around him. She stepped to the side, trying to gain his eye contact at least for a little bit. When her eyes finally met his, she scrunched her nose up and he paused, staring at her for a moment before grabbing a gun from the holster of a the dead body at his feet and shooting the man approaching her from behind. Nike blinked, jumping slightly at the sound of the gun and turning to look at the newly dead body behind her.
"What?" he yelled this time, annoyed she was present but not joining in on the fighting. For Ares, anyone on the field and not fighting either needed to leave or die.
"I can't find Phobos or Deimos," she shouted to him while staring at the body, then turned to look at him as he punched an approaching civilian of the local area. She flinched as the mortal flew to the ground and Ares stomped on his knee. The man cried out in pain while reaching for the knife in his pocket. The war god swooped down on the man, as if falling on him, but had pulled his sword out to impale the mortal before his hand ever reached the handle.
"They're fine," Ares barked as he waved his hand in the air while pulling his sword from the mortal's chest. Even if the god had given himself a moment to think about it, he would not have feared for his children's sake, but he had simply misunderstood Nike's intentions: she feared more for the sake of the world around them if those two were to run rampant. Seeing she was not going to relay this concern to him, she jumped into the air and took off to continue her search. When the blur of white to his left was gone, Ares let out a loud war cry and swung his sword 180 degrees to slice at those preoccupied with others. He let out a loud laugh as he saw a few go down, holding their backs or sides and, pulling the sword up to his left, he ran forward to ram it into a soldier.
The sight of a man, only wearing a bullet proof vest and camouflage pants, wielding a sword, daggers and only using guns from dead bodies was not entirely over looked; however, many didn't have the time to say anything about it. If anyone started to stare at Ares, their life was gone in that hesitation. His lack of using guns had been attributed to time, as he had used nearly every gunpowder ammunition known to man when the days-long battle begun. But as he waged on, pushing the fight out of cities and into new ones, he had come to feel guns were cowardly and too quick. They didn't give the victor the time to enjoy their success. Swords were personal, like an extension of your arm reaching into that mortal's chest to rip out their heart. If one could pause long enough, they would feel the heart beat through the metal. And the blood served as decoration, showing one's progress and conquests, which was lacking if one shot their target from yards away.
Between this outbreak and the scores of natural disasters surrounding them, the modern sense of communication was crippled. No one was able into the area from the outside and anyone daring to get close enough with a camera lost their lives in the process – Nike had made sure of that. No one was able in to understand why the fighting had started, where it was leading or who was pressing them forward. They simply knew if the fighting touched them, they were doomed. The other participating gods had certainly drawn attention, especially Nike and Adrestia who still wore their robes from ancient times, but the commotion was too much for this word to leak out and anyone dumb enough to have pause before them were dead before they could comprehend the wings or robes.
Not even the night served to pause Ares or his will for blood. The energy and rush he felt throughout each passing hour was enough to feed him for the days and if not much longer, then he would chose to ignore his own craving for hunger or sleep. The mortals were falling and replenishing faster than the day could persist, so nearly each one in the battle had only been fighting for a few hours. As his sword descended upon the neck of a mortal, Ares looked up to the night sky to see a white winged god flying over head. Growling, he kicked the mortal to the ground and shouted out ferociously before lashing out at anyone around him. Many mortals had naturally picked sides, fighting someone they thought to be their enemy while ignoring the leader of this chaos and his non-discrimination between sides. Slashing at the back of a leg, he spun around to finish him off, but as he spun, he was faced with his son, Eros, standing in his way. Ares let out a shout as he was not about to stop his sword in mid-swing and the winged god's eyes flew open wide, realizing this just in time to step back and avoid the tip against his chest. The sword continued its path and slammed into the mortal's back, causing him to cry out and fall to the ground. Playing it safe, Ares grabbed the mortal's gun and planted a bullet into his head before turning to Eros, scowling.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted to his son that had always favored his mother.
"Mom is in serious pain," Eros replied quietly at first, distracted by the blood and death around him and was forced to repeat it again, louder. Ares sniffed, his nose twitching as he let the information sink in only for a moment before he pushed his son out of the way and shot the approaching man from behind. The war god let out a yell at the falling body, challenging him to attack his family again though the mortal was clearly dead. Eros grimaced at the scene, barely accounting for the fact that his father was protecting him and turned, watching the gory around him and pulling back from splattering blood.
"Go home!" Ares barked, pushing his son's arm with his bloodied hand and pointing up.
"Didn't you hear me?" Eros finally yelled back, more noticeably angry about the blood on his arm than anything else. "She's weak! Hephaestus thinks she's dying!"
"She can't die," the god huffed, rubbing his sword on the clothes of a dead body.
"Dad, listen to me –" Eros started but it was too late; Ares had already jumped back into a crowd of bodies and disappeared among them, the only hints of his being were his loud battle cries and the rain of blood from above. Jumping up to escape the gore around him, Eros' wings spread out wide to fly him several yards above the violence. What he hadn't realized was that the war had taken to the skies as well and diving low to avoid ammunition, his eyes widened as the horrific truth that nowhere was safe at the moment. Knowing he had little time, he dove down to Ares once again and, more en guard this time around, successfully avoiding a close radius to his sword or surprising him. Ares growled something when his eyes first landed on Eros but he continued fighting without much pause. The winged god pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied it in his bow, aiming at a random soldier. Before he let go, Ares' hand flew out and slapped the arrow's tip causing Eros to let go and it slammed into the ground.
"What're you doing!" the war god bellowed, stepping towards Eros with his arms out wide. "I said go home!"
"She asked for you!" Eros snapped, his patience wearing in the moment but those words caught Ares' attention. He stared at Eros for a second, his mind obviously racing; there was a lot going on down here that was fueled entirely around his aura. He couldn't guarantee that leaving them to fight further would keep it going with the same tenacity it had before, but his thoughts had suddenly drifted from the field. There wasn't much that could pull him out of a battlefield, but Aphrodite specifically asking for him was definitely one of them. Following his instinct, he nodded and slammed his sword into a man's chest before stepping towards Eros.
"All right. Let's go."