Ember of Prometheus
The clanging sound of the metal bucket he was lazily carrying by hand kept coming up as it hit the side of his leg. It was early morning still, just in time for some of the cattle to be milked given their special disposition on the act itself and he would need to check some of the eggs from the chickens in their coop. Some of them would turn into a bizarre-tasting breakfast or lunch, and some would prove to be… rebellious, except using that word would be undercutting it.
He could still remember the incident when he tried to boil one of those special eggs and the entire kitchen was messed up in hot water and broken pieces of the metal pot after. The little guy that came out was easily dealt with, but the mess was just too much. Too much that he reckoned if his wife was alive with him, he would have already been hit in the head for it.
Sighing, that sudden depressive thought about his late wife caused him to pick one of the cigars (stupidly expensive ones that his Master gifted him) from his pocket and began lighting it using one of the functions of his God-given gauntlet that helped Durindana thrust forward when he needed to throw it to enact its destructive output. Through one of his fingers, a match-like flame appeared and lighted the cigar, producing a good burst of nicely prepared tobacco gracing his nostrils.
Huffing a good portion of it, he managed to calm his nerves down as he looked at the early morning sun on the horizon. Against it were the fields of similarly special wheat and corn that helped feed some of the livestock the farm had as well as undergoing analysis with some of his Master's research division. He admitted to himself early on that he was not the technical sort that was adept at being as good as a scholar. He knew certain concepts well and even had the tactical thought process to be efficient at it, but he no longer cared.
This summoning was already considered a vacation of sorts… and his master, bless his soul had actually allowed him that small wish of his. Of having a peaceful life while also being vigilant enough to heed his call when his assistance was required…
"Oh, now that is good." He said as he inhaled most of the smoke, not even coughing after.
…and he enjoyed this summoning of his so far, immensely.
Even if he wished more out of it, as he always thought of his late wife and child, he found himself content in some way. Especially with the presence of his own family with him. Even if Paris in some form due to the presence of Apollo, was now reduced to being a child. His little brother may think that he acts more adult than he does but Hector always saw him as his younger brother, now in a more literal sense and that meant taking care of him while a piece of one of the Gods that supported Troy's existence constantly introducing himself all the time.
They were a package deal of sorts, with all their quirks attached and Hector found himself happy enough to be their chaperone. Even now, this responsibility of simply tending this farm that used to be a testing facility, allowed him a degree of freedom and rest that any old man tired of their previous occupation could dream of in a dozen lifetimes. At the very least, that's how Hector saw it as he carried the bucket again and took hold of the shovel he was carrying on the other arm.
Plus, the peace and quiet along with the company of what these modern people call 'beer' while sitting on the porch overlooking the farm felt divine. It made him recall those moments just looking over the city walls at night in watch, just more comfortable in every conceivable sense.
With the addition of grapes and other fresh ingredients in one part of the farm as well, he could even brew some homegrown stuff that he still knew.
And all of it came with just the stipulation that he had full responsibility and protection over the farm.
"Brother! I can't get the sheep out." Paris suddenly said from the barn with his cute voice.
Smiling, Hector proceeded to move closer to this new machine modern people had, a tractor. He could probably tend the whole field himself by hand, but the machine made it as leisurely easy as possible even without the need to do much outside of it. He trusted his brother enough to get the sheep out like he always did every other day.
"Just give them a little kick as always… it's not like they can do much to you."
"But it's the principle of it! They keep trying to eat my hair too!" Paris shouted back.
"Oh, fear not little cute prince of mine, I will make sure my earthly brethren hurt a hair on your head as I always vow." The golden sheep on his brother's head said.
"You always say that! And you keep being tackled off of me. Aren't you a God?! Why do you even allow that to happen?" Hector smiled at the two's exchange as he placed his things into the tractor's seat. However, one of the keys to turning it on fell onto the dirt underneath the machine as he moaned in disappointment at his small bout of clumsiness.
"Brother! They're looking at me funny!" Paris shouted as Hector kneeled in front of the machine, even with his servant senses, he was still too lazy to try and make them relevant as he normally tried to reach under the machine to try and get the key.
"My dear Paris! They're getting agitated, we should probably-
The sound of the composite material forged fence being busted open to the side was heard as the rush of air from the flying carnivorous sheep flew above him while they tried to munch on Paris' noticeable green hair. Hector paid no mind to it, it was a common enough occurrence every other day on the farm, and at this point, the sheep were more playful than predatory towards his younger brother…
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh! Brother! Help me please!" he screamed as they were circled in loops in the air. The sounds of their very disturbing (at least from a normal man's perspective) cries filled the peaceful tones of the early morning as Hector continued to try and reach for the key.
"Shoo! Shoo, you dumb fiends! We're not brethren, nor am I just going to stand around and let you chew onto my cute little Paris' head." Apollo said as he tried to push the flying sheep away from the young boy, Paris instead clung to one of the flying sheep's legs, nearly ramming into the approaching caravan of black vans that were entering the property.
"Oh, Gods damn it!" Hector said as he stood up from his prior kneeling position, having lost most of his patience before downright lifting the entire machine with his gauntleted arm without much issue or strain. Happily, the lazy, yet mighty, former champion and prince of Troy finally found his key and began smiling as Paris flew over his head again, now far calmer as he rode one of the sheep. A sharp crack of air pressure rang after when the sheep went supersonic.
Hector sighed after hearing that, knowing that he would need to intervene soon. Yet before he could, he finally noticed the guests that entered the property, while he was still nonchalantly holding the enormous Tractor on his gauntleted arm.
Innocently, Hector raised his free hand and waved at him. The trails of the smoke on his cigar swirled around him, adding another layer of zany, odd quality to his persona. Yet even with his lackadaisical aura, the pause in shock and awe at his act was still obvious to the Son of Troy.
"Greetings! You must be the guests my boss told me about." He said as he set the Tractor down to the ground in a loud, audible thump. The ground near Hector shook slightly from the weight as he leaned next to its large tires.
"Hey?" The tall black man said with an estranged yet awkward wave as the group started walking towards him, with some wariness. The bearded man behind him seemed unsurprised but cautious towards Hector while the older woman and her second-in-command next to her kept some level of calm even amidst the feeling of intimidation from his casual act of strength.
"Oi… we were called her on business, but this place looks, special if you catch my drift." The bearded man said as Hector found himself grinning. The man's demeanor bordering on some level of boredom and indifference made him feel a tad bit relatable.
"Oh, this place sure is… but it's nothing to the kind I'm used to. At least in an older life." He explained before walking closer to them. "Again, I bid you all welcome. My boss is in the main house right now preparing for your arrival… as for me, you can call me the caretaker of this place. I'd personally call it a vacation house, but I guess livestock with powers is still something that you young'uns need to acclimate to."
"Excuse me?" The woman next to what he assumed to be their leader said in confusion.
"Mate, you don't look that old…" The bearded man said in a jest, one that he welcomed.
"Oh, son… if you'd know how old I am you'd know why living in a place like this is heaven."
Their leader, the older woman, seemed used to that implication of Hector's age as she brushed it off, offering her hand to respectfully shake his.
"Grace Mallory, Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency…" she started as they shook.
"You can call me Lancer, but respectfully I would like you to refer to me by name, Hector. Son of Priam." He replied with a smile as the woman looked at him in a contemplative fashion.
"Fan of the Illiad too much?" she said as Hector managed a laugh.
"I guess you can… technically call me that, but regardless Hector is my name, and I truly apologize if this all seems informal. We don't usually get guests here and my brother is not that good at herding the sheep."
Almost as if on command, the sheep flew above them again with a crying Paris.
"Brooothheeeeerr! They're too fast!"
"See what I mean?"
The retinue ducked, except for their leader who looked as if sighing along with the relatively odd and strange direction that the world was inevitably heading to. Especially with Olympia seemingly at the helm of it.
As Paris and Apollo kept doing their best to try and stop the sheep, Hector finally gave up and whistled with enough volume that it felt like a loudspeaker to everyone present. A second later Paris fell into the dirt, face-first into a mound of waste that Hector had been gathering for compost later. Apollo flew down in panic to Paris' beauty and cuteness being besmirched but the sheep from Hector's whistle quickly flew back to their pen. The door to it even closes conveniently.
The entire sight alone coupled with the strangeness from earlier got the bearded man of the group suddenly laughing out of the blue.
"Something funny, Butcher?" The lady next to their leader asked.
"Yes, something's funny Raynor, look around you… the fucking sheep are Supes too, what's next Chickens shooting lasers out of their goddamn eyes? Cows calling down lightning from the sky?"
"The chickens are actually quite tame, they mostly have enhanced strength, like breaking down metals pretty easily kind of strength, even the chicks when rattled can lift a fully grown man with their tiny beaks."
"What the fuck?" the black man said in shock as Butcher continued to laugh while the rest looked at Hector who was nonchalantly continuing his explanation on the livestock in the property. "-Oh, and the cows… they're not the thunder wielding kind, but they do release this field of aura that makes everything around them burn. Thunder bulls/cows are more so Lady Europa's field of expertise."
"My man… what word or sentence in everything you said makes any amount of sense?"
It was Hector's turn to laugh. "Oh, but I'm not lying fellow visitors. Strangeness as I said comes in many forms, but this? Is not even coming close to anything I'd call strange."
"And again, we're all here on business, and as much as I want to entertain the thought of the implications regarding animals with superpowers, our time is limited for the day, and we must meet your boss this instant," Grace said, trying to return everyone back to focus as Hector nodded in return.
"I apologize then ma'am… respectfully speaking, I'm technically on leave again as explained earlier, so manners are more lax when it comes to interaction. But yes, I bid you to just follow down that small path towards the house while I fix the little mess my brother's made."
"Thank you." The woman said as she gestured for her group to follow. Each tucking their weapons by their sides as the entourage, consisting mostly of men and women in black and formal clothes, except for the bearded man and the black man walked along as Hector smiled at them.
Hector hoped that the first impression was at least jolly enough to make them feel welcome, flying sheep notwithstanding. Before he could tend to his brother, however, the black man and his colleague approached him.
"Hey… is it fine to ask why the animals here all have powers?"
Hector perked up from the question and merely replied, "I honestly don't understand it myself. I'm just a retired old man wanting to work a simple job, so my boss gave me this. It's bliss and home wrapped into one fine corner of the world, and I wouldn't complain much out of it." The sincerity and genuine relaxation in his tone toward that statement made both feel confused.
"For some reason, I doubt that's true." The bearded man said. "But you're all Olympia folk after all… none of you ain't normal in the slightest."
Hector chuckled. "Oh, believe me, son, this is normal. Anything other than that is overrated in my book. I once believed glory in dying in battle as a soldier was something to strive for. To be that valorous hero that everyone wants to remember, but it's not that you see. Hate, vengeance, bravery, valor… hell, even a rabid fixation in something remains as just that… temporary things that only give you a minor amount of satisfaction or feeling once you've achieved it. They don't do anything after except leaving you empty…"
"That's… surprisingly deep." The black man said. Both were left contemplative, most of all, Butcher who felt some of the words hitting him deep.
"… and that's why a simple life with this old man is a Gods' blessing. Walking away from it all, from all that chaos, from all that conviction, feels welcome and relaxing. Makes life meaningful afterward, knowing that at the end of the day, I can rest, and feel fulfilled after a long life spent in a never-ending war. Plus, I can reap some of the benefits of being a hero in peace… want some?" he said offering one of the cigars to the two. The black man, Marvin declined but the bearded man, Butcher took the offer as Hector lighted his cigar with his gauntlet.
"Something tells me you have more in that story, yes?" Butcher asked as he huffed his cigar.
"You have no idea."
"I see… you don't look like a veteran to me, at least on the outside. But those eyes… I think that makes me believe you enough to think that your words are true."
"I'm glad you at least listened to my tale. Much as I can share that is." Hector said with genuine sincerity as Raynor called onto the two to hustle up and join them, leaving Hector alone as he watched them leave.
"Son of Troy! Your prince! Assist him for crying out loud!" Apollo's voice shouted as Hector began to smile again. This wasn't the perfect peaceful vacation for him, but it was damn near that in some form at least. Carrying his shovel by his shoulder, the former infamous defender of Troy's walls and kingdom returned back to his mundane enough life on Earth.
Happy in some form and content as he pried his brother and began tending to him after being dirtied in such a way. Inwardly he hoped that this peace would last and that his master, bless his soul, would find some peace in his life as well, amidst all of the stressful things he was dealing with lately.
"Tea Madame Mallory?" the Japanese young woman said with a kindly smile as Grace Mallory nodded. She gently placed the cup and its coaster on the table before her. She, Susan, Marvin, and William alongside some security detail were humbly introduced to this cozy, fine house that felt unbelievably comfortable and accommodating on the inside and the outside altogether.
It felt like any country-based villa or home that she was used to. It even reminded her of her own estate, one where she vied for early retirement after the operational failures that came with Lamplighter's stupidity. The villa where her grandchildren once enjoyed.
With a soft inward sigh, she returned her focus back to the present. Knowing full well that the reason the house felt cozy was a statement. A subtle means to make them lower their guard. It wasn't that he didn't fully trust this Kircshtaria Wodime, given his unrelenting crusade in trying to help the world, if anything she was impressed and at the same time suspicious.
The Defense Department and the CIA were very welcoming of Olympia's efforts, at least to a certain point. Not just from the substantial aid of their technological breakthroughs in the form of self-sustaining energy innovation and the now feasible and practical applications of nanotech and miniaturized devices… but just from the edge that this new hardware and even software had to once again bridge the gap between humans and supes. It also helped that the initial promise of Olympia's goal of universal healthcare, one that would make most diseases a thing of the past was also coming along at a steady, and feasible pace.
Intel suggested that they could jumpstart the process to get to its ultimate point already, given the presence of the infamous Caster, the Asclepius of their time being the fundamental "Starchild" that reinvigorated the medicinal community into a new renaissance. They actively made the dream that Vought Pharmaceuticals always promised and slowly made it a reality and they were tactful and smart enough to move such processes in a way that the world would not feel the whiplash of such discoveries. In addition, this 'Asclepius' was also Olympia's heavily guarded secret. News down the pipeline in the intelligence community at home and abroad were scratching their heads trying to find any leads that directed themselves to the man's whereabouts.
In fact, every country on Earth, at least to their knowledge, had little understanding of the inner workings of Olympia's entirety. What intel they do have are public bits of knowledge that they share with impunity. Oftentimes to lengths that would make you question why they were so honest in the first place. Many Grace doubted was true, but many Grace thought of the implications of their factual reality and what they meant afterward…
Despite the very heavy emphasis on guarding their secrets, letting out details such as the scientific methods and theories that governed the many marvels they were slowly giving to the world in a modest pace, as well as some details regarding their heroes and what possible lengths their abilities took them. The latter part was much stranger, and even then, they still had no way to confirm how many powerful Supes Olympia had, or if their founder and CEO was one himself.
Kirschtaria Wodime, the man who introduced a second renaissance with all the people under his beck and call. A man who had so much power, influence, and fame in such a short… short period of time, and a man who had control over the strongest forces on Earth that based on actual evidence and suggestions, no military had any ability to feasibly fight back against.
The same man that triggered a site-wide security breach when the young lady of Japanese descent offering her tea just appeared out of her door in broad daylight, within an important meeting deep in the Central Intelligence Agency headquarters, just to send her an invitation in the form of a letter.
It was damning to know how much power this Wodime fellow held within his hands. Power that was held with a scary amount of intelligence, wit, and casualness as if he knew the game of politics, business, and espionage as if he were born in it. As if he was an expert player that knew all the ins and outs, that not even mere mortals can comprehend.
"Yes, please," Mallory said to the young woman as she carefully prepared her tea. The herbs and smell of its traditional flavor and aroma woke her aging senses somewhat.
Either that, or he was a supe after all. One that had the fates of the world balanced on his luck, painfully impossible as it was.
"Is it just me, or is that painting sending me the conflicting vibes?" Butcher said as he pointed at the painting atop the beautifully ornate fireplace. "The whole juju of this place was already strange but that right there is outright disturbing."
" Typiquement britannique" the imposing white-haired man wearing a ridiculous yet intimidating-looking trench coat said in the back as he crossed his arms.
"Oi… don't you think right there that I can't understand French you pissy little shit. My friend is more colorful in making insults compared to you." Butcher said in retaliation before he was stopped by an elbow to the side by Marvin, and a glance from her and Susan. The white-haired man merely grinned back at the retort before returning to his steely-eyed gaze after.
"He's right though… respectfully ma'am. That pretty painting right there ain't helping things." Marvin said in his colleague's defense as Grace sighed. The young woman, known in very little detail to the CIA as 'Assassin' which in itself should procure alarm bells for the insinuation, looked harmless in this setting. She wore a respectable set of clothes that felt very casual and ordinary, but Grace found herself seeing through those eyes that she wouldn't hesitate to eliminate all of them within the room if deemed necessary. It was the same for the white-haired man in the corner of the room, and similarly in some quality to the still silent blonde young woman staring in judgment at them ever since they entered the room.
Her peculiar 'drill-like' aesthetic to her hairstyle felt aristocratic and it was bothering Grace that she hadn't said anything ever since they were respectfully given the room while their detail was close by outside.
Assassin was the only person in all three of them that they had any awareness of. The other two were unknowns that while dressed in a casual, freeform manner, invoked a sense of the power dynamics posed in this meeting already.
Wodime's cards were in play, and like a player who was down on his luck in Poker, Grace was left with far too poor cards to put up any meaningful exchange against this foe.
Looking back again to the painting, she felt the unease spread as she then looked at the young blonde woman, staring intently with a frown towards Butcher specifically. If there was any indication, she would refer to this girl as perhaps Wodime's cousin, sister, or even a niece. Their appearances did not match, the aristocracy in their air was obvious.
"It's an artist's depiction of the fate of Prometheus in Greek Myth." Grace started as she kept watch on the young blonde woman. "…a Titan, whose dynasty was dethroned by Zeus, King of the Gods after they rose to power."
"And now I remember how much I sucked at Literature…" Marvin commented with a low tone to himself.
Unperturbed, Grace continued as she studied the painting. The eyes of the man in terror there and the Eagle nonchalantly eating at his entrails in a violent, disturbing manner would put anyone in a state of unease after seeing it. Yet the symbolism and thought behind it was immense.
"…Prometheus was never part of Kronos' faction to fight against the Olympians, in fact in some stories, he colluded with them. Even if it meant being a minor part of the dynasty that followed after."
"…I remember this story now." Butcher suddenly said, making Grace and the unnamed young woman perk up.
"You do?" Susan asked, almost in surprise.
"I'm not an idiot Raynor. But… the story's basically an allegory on the high and mighty suppressing the lower class of people, the mortals, to having less desirable, healthy lives compared to those who held reality by the balls. Prometheus… cheeky little bugger was an idealist, who didn't believe in that crap and wanted to share some of those benefits to see the layman rise up in equal station to the Gods, or at least, take a step in the right direction to have better lives…"
Grace, interested continued the story for him, "And that benefit was fire. Fire was a tool that only Gods possessed and in their divine wisdom, they thought it would be a dangerous thing for humans to hold, both in relation to how humans would harm themselves, and what they would do now that they had the ability to progress forward, and the implications attached to it afterward…"
"… and Prometheus, smart bugger that he was, trusted Man more than the Divine and took the risk of sharing such a thing with Humans. It led to Man becoming something more than themselves, jumpstarting their progress by a huge fraction, and the Gods, cunts that they were, thought it was a terrible decision and they chained Prometheus onto one of the highest peaks in the world, and let a divine bird eat his fucking intestines as punishment. Since the bugger was a Titan, he was immortal, so he would experience a never-ending set of torture for the rest of his existence while that wee bird gets a free meal as if fast food was ever free in the first place."
The young woman looked far more intensely frowning at Butcher as Grace gauged the tension in the room. But before she could say anything else, a new voice came into play, which seemed to put the young woman at ease, somewhat.
"…Prometheus was also forced to watch Man be destroyed by Zeus, firsthand from his peak. His dedication to loving humans, respecting them, and aiding them in progression all fell into pieces as Zeus did his work, whether by a large powerful flood, a thunderbolt that burned the lands, or by simply decreeing with fervor that Man should all return to clay and stone."
Grace and Susan nearly stood up in their seats as Kirschtaria Wodime entered the living room. A small friendly smile appeared on his face as he brushed them all from standing. He managed to sit on the plain enough chair facing all of them with the young blonde woman by his side.
"Greetings… I am terribly sorry for the small wait, frankly speaking, the alarm didn't go off and I was left drowsy after all my work last night." Wodime said with sincere shame in his words, much to the point that even Grace believed him. It didn't help that he was wearing a cream-colored shirt and pajama-looking pants, which was a far cry from the typical aristocratic air that he possessed. Even the young woman on his left looked more prepared than him.
It also surprised them all when they saw Wodime, probably the most powerful man in the world, looking frail, gangly, nearly thin aside from his admittedly handsome face and awe-inspiring features. The new look colored him as a stressed man, who barely had time for himself, now meeting them in a casual manner, hoping to create a feeling of trust between them.
Supe or not, Wodime was already convincing them of that simple action, and even Grace felt it too. If anything, they all felt sorry for him on some level as there were even a hint of bags underneath his eyes. Yet, he seemed alert, and ready still despite it all, with his head held high and his face looking tranquil enough as he did so in other meetings.
"Ah… I believe from what conversations you started, you were all talking about the painting atop the fireplace. Marvelous, isn't it? It wasn't a painting by a great artist mind you, but by a little boy selling it on the streets of Berlin. His father was what did the colors, but the sketch and the overall art itself were from the boy. Amazing, isn't it? How far a child's mind can go even at such a young age."
"Morbid if you ask me," Butcher said, as Wodime smiled. He was again given a glare by Grace herself, but the Olympia CEO seemed rather happy about that than offended.
"It is… but isn't life's best triumphant moments come from facing challenges on a daily scale? Where even something as precious as acing a difficult test after weeks of study, can put a smile on a tired parent's face knowing full well that their child has a future?"
Everyone was left silent by that statement, even Butcher as they looked at Wodime. Even his subordinates, particularly the blonde young woman looked at him in some form of inspiring quality. His charisma was oozing even from those simple sentences and the sincerity behind each word was as clear as it would ever be.
Maybe that was his power? Being able to convince people of how genuinely good-natured he was. Maybe they were all just paranoid and this man merely just wanted to help. Or maybe… they were all being duped all the same.
"I took the painting for a simple reason. It's… a reminder. Of my own faults." He admitted out aloud which both impressed and perplexed the CIA retinue. Impressed that his admission of a mistake felt very close to heart which many could not replicate in any convincing capacity.
"I always had a plan to help and change the world, you see. Yet even as I was close to achieving that, a simple young man, a nobody, someone who had little to no worth compared to what I had, showed me that there was a different path. A different path that made sure every soul had a place in the future. A place that would give them that happiness… and here I am now. A second chance, one that I would labor to great capacity, knowing that such an impossible dream is hard to reach, but even scraping just the tip of it, would prove rewarding."
Nobody truly grasped what he meant by that, but they knew that whether he was mad or sane, Wodime had big ambitions. Ambitions that through his power, could perhaps scratch that idealized fantasy of his. "So, you fashion yourself as Prometheus?" Grace asked a sort of challenge within her small respectful provocation.
"No," Wodime said as he looked at the painting above him. "I see myself as a tool. One for humanity that needs to reach that attainable future, together. I see myself more as the ember, an ember that would make sure to all of those who wished for our species' continued progress, health, stability, and joy to be a reality. A guide, mayhap, an indirect one. Hoping to prove that the future isn't as bleak as you may all think of it to be."
"And how are you doing on that?" Grace said.
"Terribly ineffective, if I might say so myself, but change is a gradual thing. You can't… brute force something out of nowhere and then expect everyone to say yes to it. Human nature craves progress but is also afraid of it. That's why change is a slow progress. That's why… I don't do everything in my power to make the world think as I would, because that's… egotistical. That's beyond reprehensible, much as I realize now, because every living being matters in some capacity, and taking away that freedom of thought, of the semblance of oneself and their choices, makes you no better than a tyrant. A tyrant wishing the world that only his will is what's right."
A bit of silence was shared as Wodime was offered tea by his subordinate.
"But I vow, even with my frail body, that I wish to see that day when the human race can actively and individually agree to unite in the banner of progress and longevity without trampling each other's individual lives. I wish to see that day where there would be no painful tears shared amongst us against tragedy, naïve as a thought that is…"
"It is still, improbable as you said. People are people. Some cunts are just born to be violent." Butcher added.
"…I know. But it's a hopeful thought that I always wish to carry. Imperfect as the ending that I may achieve in the process. It's better at least than sacrificing the lives of an entire world to give birth to a more perfect, yet never the same, new one." The weight of that statement reminds Wodime of his own original plan, in another world.
"Are you making yourself out to be a martyr?" Grace asked.
"I don't think so. I would leave it to people to… certainly judge what my legacy would be. How they feel about me, but I am certain of helping the world and that isn't going to change."
It took a minute or so before everyone digested his words. Even Butcher looked at Wodime in some inexplainable that Grace couldn't even read before the silence was broken by the young blonde woman to Wodime's left.
"I have cast my judgment already. Many are unworthy of the gift that the Gods and my master wish to offer, but there is merit in the belief of one's potential to change." She said as she looked at Butcher before turning to Wodime. "… but it is all down to one's character to prove if he is worthy of absolution and redemption."
"Thank you, Astraea… from that I believe we should start the meeting proper." Wodime acknowledged that the rest didn't exactly understand what the young woman meant.
"And remind me again, Mr. Wodime what is it that this invitation's all about? I don't think this is a meeting where we just share conflicting philosophies after all." Grace said with a small jest.
"Goodness no. We would take all day to even humor that." He replied with a smile as he relaxed in his seat. "No, this is on more important matters actually, for one, I want to be transparent. Especially to you people, people that I wish to be allies with at the end of this meeting, and that means sharing what I know to your side; while also giving you aid in some form that I can provide."
"You get nothing in exchange from us if that's what you're insinuating, which begs the question why you trust us enough to hold such information or aid in the first place?"
Wodime grinned. "I don't fully trust you actually, nobody does in the world of politics and strife that we live in. But I do trust… that we share interests in something that would benefit us both."
Grace grinned back. "And what would those interests be? Or more importantly, what sort of information are you willing to impart that would interest us?"
"That depends on how much you believe in any word I say this moment forward…"
"Mr. Wodime- she was cut off when Wodime raised his hand.
"…because with all due respect madame, we would need the entire afternoon for you even to digest the validity of some of my claims, but it's all in the end goal of mutual, beneficial trust. One that I have yet to give to any nation, company, or organization on this Earth."
Everyone perked up from those words as Grace finally relented.
"Very well, Mr. Wodime, you have my attention…"
"I thought you thought drivel this was barbaric. Useless even." Atalanta said as she and Medea, who was currently looking through her tablet, doing sketches on a new dress while wearing glasses stood before the viewing podium of the training grounds that Olympia had for their recruits.
A certain apprentice that she had taken up on was now entering said grounds with a makeshift staff on his arm as Chiron was directing Starlight and the newly named Bloodmoon to face him. The apprentice looked nervous but confident enough to stand his ground as Medea hummed to Atalanta's words.
"A far-off memory from another summoning says otherwise," Medea said as in a faraway reality a certain young woman wearing red sneezed out of the blue. "Besides, I still think this is bull. So, I gave Heracles the responsibility to train him on those matters."
"Heracles? Not Chiron?" Atalanta said in surprise and concern.
"Is there an issue in that?"
"Well, yes… Heracles is very… spartan in his methods of training when he's alone. I'm surprised the boy even humored that, to begin with."
"Don't be such a worrywart. He's not a child and Heracles certainly knows how to hold back. The boy even enjoys it I reckon." Medea argued as Chiron was starting to prepare below to enable their simulation.
"Did you ask if he's a masochist?" Atalanta joked.
"Perhaps… I don't know really; his girlfriend seems tame at first glance."
Atalanta huffed as she looked at the world starting to form around their fighting zone, with all three fighters at the ready. "At least you're supportive of him."
"I have confidence in my student… and I know he won't disappoint me."
A sudden explosion was felt as Medea's apprentice was seen being blown away by Starlight's more powerful photon blast.
"He could tank a hit at least," Atalanta commented as Medea continued to work on her tablet.
The trainees like Hughie had a big day ahead of them, as their mentors were all there to watch their progress bearing fruit in this informal sort of tournament that even the mentors themselves were now betting against each other for.
All in the spirit of the great Olympics that Greek city-states used to cheer and clamor for.
To Chiron however, he saw that he needed to up the ante a bit to see these students reach their absolute potential for him to deem them as ready, and he knew just the thing to make it so…
TO BE CONTINUED…
AN: Yes, Wodime just woke up there in that scene and lastly, I had to fight the urge to stop writing a scene where Luvia supplexes Butcher… but who knows? I might add that down the line hahahaha.
Next chap should have a bit more focus on the training spree, which I felt needed more time to develop, plus, thinking of the power interactions of all the trainees is going to be a mess, a chaotic mess that I want to fine tune to be fun and exciting hahahahaha.
See you in the next…