An undisclosed location in the Olympian Galaxy
Dr. Catherine Kalama is amazed by the medical technology of the Mortal Liberation Front. Noriko’s wounds would’ve been fatal on Earth; not only they were able to heal her, but they’ve done a heart transplant in less than half an hour.
Several doctors are now checking her vital signs, shown on a plethora of screens. Dr. Kalama can’t read the words on them, written in something that looks a lot like the Greek alphabet, but she can interpret the signs: Noriko is very weak but stable.
In fact, she’s never seemed so weak. She’s lost some weight in the last few months, which is worrying considering she never had much to lose anyway; combined with her being shorter than average, she looks even younger than she is. For a moment, Dr. Kalama wonders how the Galaxy would react if people knew that “the Slayer of Gods” is just a sick and frail girl.
Then Noriko opens her eyes and all hell breaks loose. The screens show her heart rate spiking and her EEG going out of control, but Dr. Kalama isn’t looking at the screens.
She’s looking at Noriko punching the first doctor in the throat, then jumping off the bed, then breaking the second doctor’s nose with a punch, then kicking the nurse in the groin, before finally calming down to remove the sensors reading her vitals. Her eyes are completely black and she’s smiling maniacally. Everything took less than a minute.
<Noriko, what are you doing!?> Dr. Kalama asks her.
<Sorry Doc, Noriko’s not home right now.>
<What is going on here?> the chief medical officer asks. He just arrived, hearing all the noise; both him and “Noriko” look at the intercom panel, located right between the two (or that’s what he assumes she’s looking at: it’s not easy to tell because her pupils are not visible).
He decides trying to subdue her. It should be easy: he’s an eight feet giant, towering over her small frame. She uses it to her advantage: she slips under his legs, stealing a scalpel from his white coat and jamming it into his thigh. He screams; she twirls the scalpel in her hand, still grinning.
<How about we play doctor, hmm? I wanna see how much it takes you to bleed to death.>
<Stop right there!> Kari orders.
Dr. Kalama’s never been so happy to see the Vanguard. But the joy doesn’t last long: “Noriko” runs behind her and takes her hostage, pointing the scalpel at her throat. It’s still dripping blood from the giant doctor, and it’s extremely close to a major vein.
<No sudden moves. I wanna know where we are and how to get out of here; try anything funny and we’ll see if my father likes fu##ing a corpse. Eh eh. That DOES sound funny.>
<You’re not Noriko, you’re Abyss> Dr. Kalama realizes.
<Well no s#it. See Noriko? I told you she’s just a nice pair of t#ts to your dad. She’s even->
She doesn’t finish the sentence: Kari just created a duplicate to disarm her, clenching her wrist so hard she drops the scalpel. Abyss reacts the only way she knows how to act: violently.
She tries to punch Kari’s duplicate, who avoids it without even trying. Kari would surpass her in speed and strength even without her superior Myridian physiology, and although Abyss could level the fight by calling upon literally every single martial art on Earth she’s too angry to think straight.
Kari subdues her quickly: before Dr. Kalama realizes what happened, Abyss is on the floor with one Kari sitting on her back, one holding her legs, and two other Kari stepping on her wrists.
<Lemme go you fu##ing slave w##re! Don’t you know who I am!?!?>
<Believe me, I know exactly who you are. Let her go, Zel.>
Just like before, Ulysses commands a certain respect just by his presence and his voice. It’s enough to make Kari consider his order, before objecting:
<She’s too dangerous.>
<Trust me. I’ve done this before.>
Kari struggles with the decision for what she feels like an eternity. Finally she obeys: all of her bodies disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving Abyss alone. Dr. Kalama has escaped and so have all the other victims of her assault: now Abyss is facing Ulysses alone.
<We don’t have time for this, Null. I need you to focus.>
<Null is not here. I am Abyss.>
<I am Ulysses.>
<Is this the part where I’m supposed to be intimidated? I’m humanity’s living nightmare!>
<You’re the last hope of humanity. Your planet and your people need you; you can’t let them down.>
<Stop talking to her!!! I’m smarter, cooler, sexier, better than she’ll ever be!!!>
<Last chance, Null. Are you with me in this war?>
<Stop treating me LIKE I’M NOTHING!!!> – Abyss shouts, with her black eyes… whatever’s the opposite of shining, that’s what they’re doing. The room’s lights flicker, the air around her is suddenly thicker, sweating darkness in a supernatural aura of evil.
Ulysses stares right at Abyss. He doesn’t blink.
<Think about it. You don’t really want to pick up a fight with me, right?>
Abyss seems ready to: her fists are so tight it’s a miracle her fingernails are not drawing blood.
<You will regret this… Ulysses? Why are you… what happened?>
Noriko looks around: the room’s been thrashed and everyone is looking at her. Horrified, terrified or both… including the Vanguard.
<It wasn’t a nightmare, wasn’t it?>
<Welcome back to reality, Null> Ulysses answers, offering his hand. Noriko shakes it, still confused by the experience, before she notices there’s blood on her own hand.
<Did… did I…>
<You didn’t kill anyone. But you have to learn to control your dark side: I can’t always be here.>
<I’m working on it. Where is “here” anyway?>
<I’m glad you asked; follow me, I’ll explain and then we’ll come up with a plan to save this galaxy.>
It’s a strange sight: Ulysses standing next to Noriko, almost a fatherly figure, calmly explaining the situation like it’s nothing more than a business meeting.
Nobody else says anything, until Quantum asks the question on everybody’s mind:
<The heck just happened!?>
<He stared her down> Torn answers. It’s hard to tell with his grim monotone tone, but there seems to be some concern buried deep in his voice.
<And he seems to taking charge pretty quickly> Quantum nods.
<That is so like Ulysses> Vesta murmurs, rolling her eyes.
Lycosura, 45.000 light-years from Earth
It was probably the most epic battle nobody ever saw. Even if the planet was inhabited, the amount of dirt and fallout from an absurd quantity of nuclear explosions would’ve killed everybody.
Persephone doesn’t know how long she’s been fighting Strife. The passage of time is a strange thing in the eyes of a goddess… the planets rush around their stars so fast.
It’s been a couple of ice ages since the last time she’s felt tired, but she legitimately can’t recall the last time she felt so utterly and completely exhausted.
From a mortal point of view, Persephone is incredibly powerful: she even threw a small moon at her mother once. But she’s not invincible.
Strife rises from the crater, levitating through the thick smoke. Persephone’s heart sinks when she sees the creature: she was sure that the last attack would’ve obliterated it.
From a distance, it’s understandable. Persephone is not powerful enough to blow up a planet, but she came dangerously close this time. Only watching it from orbit could make it justice: there’s a scar the size of India that exposes the planet’s mantle.
But it wasn’t enough. The harder she fights, the stronger Strife gets. It’s that simple.
<I am Strife. You are in my way? it says again, with its increasingly annoying voice.
Persephone grins her teeth and raises a fist, ready to release another blast. But there’s no rage left in her to sustain her power, and she lowers her arm.
<No, I’m not. I surrender.>
Strife doesn’t have a face, but expresses its confusion by tilting its head. It doesn’t need to talk.
<Well? You fu##ing won. Now what?>
<I am Strife. You are in my way.>
<Yeah fu## you too> is her farewell, punctuated by a middle finger before she turns away. Before she can fly away from this wrecked planet, Strife teleports right in front of her.
<I am Strife. You must be in my way.>
<There’s no reason left to fight. Who the fu## do you think you are, Ares or something?>
<No. I am->
The creature doesn’t finish the sentence: it’s just gone, seemingly blinked out of existence. Persephone does a double take, looking around expecting to see the monster ready to attack once again. But instead, there’s a young man with a stupid grin on his face.
<Sorry to interrupt, but we both know what it was going to say.>
<Hermes!? The fu## are you doing back here!?>
<What, a god can’t visit his favorite step-sister and save her life every once in a while?>
<I don’t need your fu##ng help, you fu##ing creep.>
<Oh, my bad. Should I take it back?> Hermes asks, ready to snap his fingers.
<No, please> Persephone quickly stops him. There’s a vulnerability in her voice that very few people in history have ever heard. Even her voice is different: it’s very similar to Demeter’s. It’s always been, but this time it lacks the deep distortion that usually sets them apart.
She seems to acknowledge some embarrassment over exposing such a vulnerable side to Hermes.
<Where…ehm, where did you send it?> – she asks, recalling to adjust her voice.
<Well…>
<Nowhere nice, I hope.>
<Let’s just say Strife is exactly where I want it to be. Are you alright? You must’ve been hurt.>
<Stop it.>
<Stop what?>
<Pretending that you want to help me. The only god you’ve ever wanted to help is yourself. I’ve always liked that about you… although Hades always says it’ll be your doom.>
Persephone’s mention of her husband made Hermes nervous. This will be tricky… he could’ve let Strife finish her. But risking retaliation from Hades? That’s too much even for him.
<Well that’s Hades for you, gloom and doom all the time. You must be missing him.>
<Get to the fu##ing point. What do you want?>
<Leave your territory in the Olympian Galaxy to me. You never wanted it in the first place, accepting it only to spite Demeter. But your mother’s dead now.>
<I don’t know…> she hesitates, biting her lip. Thinking’s never been her strong suit: Persephone is a creature of instinct. Hermes tries his best not to smile: this is almost too easy for him.
<The Underworld is what, three million light-years away? It would take you months to get there on your own. Just say yes and you’ll be in your husband’s arms before you know it.>
<I do miss him. Alright, Hermes, you’ve got yourself a deal> – Persephone agrees, extending her hand. Hermes tries to grab it, instead Persephone goes a lot lower and squeezes something painful.
-If I find out it was a trick I will throw these into a black hole. Do I make myself clear?
<As always. Say hello to Hades for me> Hermes manages to say, although not without letting some of the pain get through. The malicious smile on Persephone’s green lips is the last thing he sees of her, teleporting her across the universe with godlike ease.
Arcadia VII, 25.000 light-years from Earth
Eris is enjoying this. Living as a disembodied entity for thousands of years, possessing the body of Artemis is its own reward. She has the luxury of time, as all immortals do.
Until a strange androgynous creature, green and purple, is teleported into her throne room.
<Hello. I am Strife. What is your name?>
Eris smiles. Oh yes, she will enjoy this indeed.
<Hello Strife. It’s about time you and I had a little chat…>
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