Olympus, 28.000 light-years from Earth
Hebe looks at the empty throne of her father. For as long as she can remember, that seat of power has been the source of endless struggle for her family: everyone has been scheming to get it, in one way or the other. Everyone except the goddess of youth.
<It’s surprisingly comfortable. Go ahead, try it.>
Hebe’s heart skips a beat as she’s taken by surprise: she didn’t expect to find anyone else there, and she’s even more surprised that it’s Zeus himself.
<Dad! You’re back! Have you changed your mind about abdicating?> Hebe asks excitedly.
<No, I stand by my decision. I just decided to check if things were going smoothly with the succession.>
<Oh, dad, everything is awful. Mom is going to set the Galaxy on fire if things don’t go the way she wants!>
<Your mother is just in one of her moods. She’s beyond reason when she’s like this.>
<Mom is always like this.>
<Exactly. I should never have let her write the laws of succession: I actually wanted Athena to take care of everything. But your mother wouldn’t have it.>
<Dad, there something I still don’t understand. Why did you abdicate? Mom thinks it’s because you want to have more fun with your… escapades… but the throne has never stopped you before.>
Zeus smiles at his youngest daughter: she’s incredibly naïve in so many ways, but she’s one of the few family members that truly gets him.
<I don’t think I ever told you, but… when I overthrew my father Kronos, I didn’t plan on taking his place. But my siblings were too young at the time, and I was the most powerful god alive… if I didn’t take the throne, Olympus would’ve been conquered by someone else. I figured I could just keep it until someone more worthy than me came along.>
<Which never happened. Is it because you’re still the most powerful god around?>
<It’s not about power, Hebe. I’m fond of mortals. None of your brothers and sisters are… Ares and Enyo would’ve been too bloodthirsty, Athena and Ilithyia too cold, Apollo and Artemis too self-centered, Aphrodite would’ve welcomed any invader with open arms and open legs, and so on. For a while I hoped Hestia… sorry, Vesta… would be mature enough to take my place. But then I had to exile her, so I just kept delaying my abdication. Until I took a vacation and realized something.>
<That Olympus wouldn’t fall without you on the throne?> Hebe hypothesizes.
<Worse: that the Galaxy was better off when nobody was on the throne!>
<“Better off”? Nearly our entire family has been killed!> she objects.
<Aren’t you an ally of the person responsible for most of those deaths?>
<Yes, but… it’s complicated. Actually, Dad, I’ve been wondering… if the Galaxy works better without anyone on the throne and mortals can govern themselves now… do we really need to have a monarchy in the first place?>
<I don’t follow you.> Zeus admits, staring at her in confusion.
<I don’t know how to make it more simple. Does Olympus really need someone to be in charge?> she clarifies. But Zeus stares at her in silence, blinking several times.
<Someone has to be the king. Or the queen.> he eventually answers.
<But why?>
<Because there’s always been one.>
<Don’t you think it’s time for things to change?>
More silence. More blinking.
<I don’t follow you.> Zeus repeats.
<Nevermind.> Hebe sighs, realizing that she can’t ask a million year old god to completely shift his worldview so radically.
<A new alliance has been formed, dad. We’re going to oppose mom’s attempt to seize power. Are you going to take sides?>
<Is Athena in it?>
<She doesn’t know about the alliance. At least I pray to you that she doesn’t.>
<Then she’s neutral. Good. Hera would’ve pushed me to side against Athena, so that clears out a potential headache. That leaves you as the only remaining heir to the throne, right?>
<Apparently so. Although I really, really don’t want to be queen.> Hebe sighs again, touching the throne like she was aware to start liking it.
<Why not?>
<There’s a mortal saying on one of the worlds I’ve inherited: “Those who don’t want to lead are the best leaders”. Maybe that will apply to me as well.> Hebe sighs one last time, resigning herself to her fate and quietly leaving the room.
Her words resonate into the mind of Zeus, intent of staring at the seat of power of the Olympian Galaxy as he strokes he beard.
<“Those who don’t want to lead”. Hmmm.> he repeats pensively.
Megalopolis, 40.000 light-years from Earth
Hera is upset, but then again it’s to be expected: she’s been upset for the last million years.
<My own daughter! The flesh of my flesh, refusing to answer my call to action!!!> she complains, the blue flame emanating from her fist turning the golden goblet she’s holding into molten metal.
Athena, wearing her full battle armor, looks at her stepmother throwing a tantrum. What little control Hera previously had over her emotions has evaporated.
<Which daughter?> she asks, raising an eyebrow.
<I only have one daughter, Athena.>
<Really. My sources indicate that Enyo survived both her imprisonment at the hands of Hades and her assault on Dionysus. We have to assume she joined…>
<I have. ONE. Daughter.> Hera insists: Zeus might have pardoned her for the attempt on Hera’s life at the “Strongest Under The Heavens” tournament, but his wife is not a forgiving goddess.
Her comment goes completely over the head of the other goddess present: her mother Rhea looks at the ceiling as she concentrates her few braincells.
<Uh, I’m pretty sure you have more? Like, the little obsessed with childbirth? Or the butch huntress with the white hair? Or the redhead with the really big boobs? Or the…>
<Cease your babbling, mother, I have a war to run. And apparently a war goddess who refuses to pledge her armies to my cause!> Hera complains to Athena. Anyone else would be intimidated by the sight of her blue eyes shining with rage, but Athena doesn’t even blink.
<I mean no disrespect, Hera, but I have no reason to attack the Mortal Republic. They have not damaged the Athenian Federation in any way.>
<You REFUSE to come to your queen’s aid in times of need!?>
<Technically speaking you are no longer my queen, Hera: Zeus has abdicated, meaning you are not the spouse of the current monarch. I pledge my allegiance to Hebe as the legitimate heir, which makes you the Queen Mother.> Athena points out.
<You have SOME nerve, Athena, to speak to me that way. The Mortal Republic is a threat to the very survival of Olympus! It is your DUTY to protect it!>
<What is a kingdom to a goddess? If, and I stress “if”, the Mortal Republic or its allies pose a threat to either the Queen or the Queen Mother, I will take action. Not that it will be necessary… should anything happen, I am sure Queen Hebe’s husband will take care of the situation. In fact, why don’t you ask Herakles to join you in battle? I’m sure he will be ecstatic to help you.>
Athena can feel the pain that Hera feels at the mere thought of Herakles being revered as the king of the gods, and she’s not above twisting the knife on behalf of her former champion.
<You know, it’s kind of funny, really.>
The new voice slithers from the shadows of the castle, solidifying into the shape of a woman wearing a snake around her neck like it was a fancy scarf.
She’s been known by many names… Beautiful Cancer, the Rising Riot, the Cursed Daughter… but although her birth name is Eris, Goddess of Strife, she goes by another name these days.
<Lilith. As always, you show up uninvited.> Athena comments.
<For a goddess of wisdom you can easily lose track of the truth, Athena. Lilith is here on my request. Apparently some of my husband’s crotch-spawns are more loyal than you.>
<You are gathering a quite amusing army. Queen Mother Rhea, the scatter-brained goddess of everything that flows…>
<Is she talking about me? Because I don’t know how to scatter brains.> Rhea whispers to Hera.
<…and Athena, mentor of the Slayer of Gods herself. How does it feel to be the one sowing the seeds of her own defeat, my dear?>
<You tell me, “Lilith”: that seems to be your specialty. How many times have you been defeated and humiliated by Null at this point?> Athena spitefully comments.
<Enough! All of our forces will attack the Mortal Republic tomorrow. Then we’ll occupy the territory currently held by Hebe, so that I may take over as regent until she comes to her senses.>
<This is a disastrous strategy that will bring forth your downfall.> Athena states with certainty.
<We’re already at the fourth thing? What are the first three?> Rhea asks, ignored by the others.
<Are you joking? The mortals don’t have a single Class-2 god on their side! Both Hera and Rhea are Class-2 by birthright, I’ve been Class-2 since I absorbed the powers of Apophis…>
<You mean stolen.>
<I’m beginning to wonder, Athena. What exactly do you bring to the table? Your power level has never been satisfactorily measured.>
<Power without brains is meaningless, as you have aptly demonstrated over the ages. Aren’t you the Olympus representative to the Nine Gods? Over all this time, haven’t you gathered a single ally that could support Hera’s cause?>
<Oh have made allies, Athena, believe me. You are not the only one capable of enlisting humans.>
Boreas, 3,000 light-years from Earth
Life has been harsh on the capital world of the Winter Kingdom… if that institution still exists.
First Harmonia reduced the entire population into mindless zombies, then Tyche became the de facto ruler while Dionysus concentrated on his hedonistic desires.
The Lar are a proud civilization, the oldest surviving one in the Twelve Galaxies, but their way of life is on the verge of extinction. They survived the genocide brought forth by Kronos millions of years ago, but the rule of the Olympian Pantheon has isolated them from the thousands of planets inhabited by humans.
The continuous disruptions in their government has made the Winter Kingdom increasingly weak when compared to its neighbors. Enduring the reign of an Ice Queen of human descent was already humiliating… but even she fell when confronted by the might of the gods.
The Winter Castle has not even been properly repaired from the clash between Enyo and Dionysus; security is almost non-existent at this point.
A hooded figure is able to walk right through the front gate with the sole opposition of two guards, promptly encased in blocks of ice. That’s the fate expecting everyone who lays eyes on the woman proudly marching inside the castle: unless they bow on the spot, they are mercilessly killed.
A giant battering ram made of ice opens the massive doors leading to the throne room. The human walks up to the second oldest seat of power of the Olympian Galaxy; her lips warp into an expression of disgust as she sees how Dionysus left the place.
A sheet of ice appears on the throne to hide the stains of wine and various bodily fluids, protecting Leiko Tanaka as she sits to activate the holographic projector sending a message to all the worlds of the Winter Kingdom.
<Rejoice, my subjects. The Ice Queen has returned: it is time for the Winter Kingdom to regain its rightful place as the greatest force in the Galaxy.> is the message.
Max Black’s apartment, New York City
Jane Blake enters the living room, wearing only an oversized T-Shirt and holding two cups of coffee in her hands. She finds her boyfriend Max Black in his boxers sitting on the sofa reading a comic book, while Noriko Null sleeps next to him resting her head on his thigh.
<Should I be jealous?> she asks half-jokingly, handing him the coffee.
<You’re already up? What time…> he asks; using his Quantum powers he listens to the radio signals bouncing all over the city, realizing it’s early morning.
<Oh, wow. We must’ve talked for like four or five hours. No wonder she fell asleep!>
<What did you talk about?>
<She’d… rather keep it private.>
<She’s not breaking up with yet another boyfriend, isn’t she?>
<No, no… well, not that I know of anyway. She wanted to be reassured she’s not turning into a supervillain like her mother.>
<Again? I swear she’s more obsessed by her mother than…> Jane begins to complain, interrupted by the sound of Noriko’s phone beeping incessantly.
<I’m up, I’m up! What time is it?> Noriko asks, rushing to stand up and grabbing the coffee from Max’s hand almost as a natural reflex.
<Eight thirty. That was my coffee, by the way.> Max points out.
<I’ll buy you another one. Why aren’t you dressed already? We have an emergency!> she replies, hurriedly recovering her boots from the floor to put them on as fast as she can.
<Why am I not surprised?> he comments as he yawns.
<What is it this time?> Jane asks, handing over her coffee to her boyfriend… he’ll need it.
<My mother just took over the Winter Kingdom again.> Noriko explains, just before her phone beeps again to give her another alert.
<Aaaand the Mortal Republic has just been invaded. Again. Is it too much for the Galaxy to stay safe for one freaking day!?> Noriko complains.
<Two emergencies at once. What’s the plan?> Max asks; within the blink of an eye, he’s already fully dressed and wearing his Quantum mask.
<Sprung the trap I’ve set up, fight Olympus, save the universe. But first… can I use your bathroom?>
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