#shqevent01

Location: Undisclosed

"Oi, Frenchie!" Billy greeted the other man in the most casual way as he heard him picking up the phone. It had been weeks since Butcher had gone missing and ghosted his team completely. Weeks since the gang had been burned in that cheap motel and had been taken by a special-ops group to a secret location.

      "Heard you lot did a runner and slipped right through Vought's gunner's fingers," he said sounding impressed they had escaped. Not thanks to him, of course, Butcher hadn't been there that night. He had been paying a little visit to none other than Madelyn Stillwell, Senior Vice President of Vought International's Hero Management and Homelander's secret sweetheart now turned to fucking dust. The incident had earned Butcher the title as the most wanted cunt in America, the re-enactment video of the whole thing had been played through the news over and over and over ever since.

TICK TOCK, goes the c l o c k ; and now what should we PLAY ?

Divine i c h o r— the blood of the gods is liquid gold, ethereal and deadly. All THANATOS sees is red. It cakes his fingernails. It seeps from wounds inflicted with brutal efficiency. It blossoms on once pristine white walls. If he was the type to revel in the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins, this would be a victory won; as it stands, however, he’s never cared much for the c o l o r.

      ❛ Fourteen minutes, ❜ he notes, affecting a tone of nonchalance despite the crimson painting his features. Fourteen m i n u t e s until the hour is up. Fourteen m i n u t e s until pandemonium grows silent— until all is still in a mass of corpses. ❛ We need to move. ❜

❛ Not y e t. ❜ Her tone brooks no argument. Though unspoken, the command is clear— ‘ We move when I say we move. ’ GAIA is vengeance personified, a fury draped in navy blue. There is no remorse in those obsidian depths; there is only thinly veiled satisfaction. T h i s is the Gaia he remembers— this is the woman carrying Olympus on her shoulders.

TICK TOCK, goes the c l o c k ; and then what shall we SEE ?

Glass s h a t t e r s. Bullets rain. Thanatos moves on instinct, dropping to the floor as lead pierces the air. Nearby, he sees Gaia do the same.

     ❛ Now, now. Is that any way to greet an old f r i e n d? ❜ Her voice is laced in saccharine sweetness, hydra venom spilling from ruby red lips. HYPERION is cloaked in onyx, appearing before them as though she’d emerged from the pits of Tartarus itself. ❛ Was that a rhetorical question? ❜ Despite the gravity of the situation, the words slip from Thanatos’ lips easily— self-preservation be damned. There is no crunch of glass, no footfalls to track; Hyperion is a ghost amongst mortal ruins. Thanatos had always e n v i e d that about her.

Another shot rings out, noise dulled by the blood pounding in his ears. They’re half hidden behind a supporting pillar, faces masked in the shadows. Hyperion is shooting b l i n d, baiting them— forcing them into a corner. 

     No one has a c l e a r shot.

TICK TOCK, goes the c l o c k ; and all the years they FLY ! TICK TOCK, and all too s o o n ; You and I must D I E.

❛ E n o u g h. Take her out. I want her dead. ❜ Gaia snarls. Like he hasn’t been t r y i n g.

     The director’s Glock lies several feet from their reach. ❛ Pity our reunion had to be this way, Thanatos. ATLAS and I had a much more intimate affair, I assure you. ❜ A bullet ricochets off steel and he doesn’t hesitate; he returns the fire with calculated fervor. Beside him, he can tell Gaia is growing i m p a t i e n t. He sighs— now or never.

T h a n a t o s, god of merciful death— touch gentle in spite of such dreaded divinity; alone amongst the gods. Alone in the pulsing of his heartbeat amidst a sea of corpses. He steps out of the shadows to be greeted by her, perched atop Gaia’s desk. Her long, willowy legs were crossed at the ankle, face i m m a c u l a t e as she drew her weapon. He mirrors her, SIG-Sauer P226 trained on her heart.

     Neither m o v e s. 

❛ How honorable, ❜ Hyperion muses. There is no fear in hardened cerulean, eyes taking in the latest development with something akin to unadulterated glee. He’s hesitating, he knows. The memories threaten to cripple him. Thanatos is rarely sentimental; he does not yearn the past. He is not Atlas. But she was his friend o n c e. She had sheltered him from death’s omnipresent gaze on countless occasions. She had accompanied him to his older brother’s funeral. She had baked him a cake for his twentieth birthday, for fuck’s sake.

A bullet whirs p a s t him and he hears Gaia curse. ❛ Don’t spoil my fun, darling. ❜ Blood falls from an open wound at her palm. A pistol strikes the ground behind them.

    It happens in an i n s t a n t. Gaia stands behind him, cold glint of steel pressed against his neck. He doesn’t fight it. She is his director. She commands the pantheon. In the grand scheme of things, Thanatos understands— only one will walk out of this room a l i v e. For the greater good, he must die. Gaia’s knife digs into his skin as she hisses, ❛ Kill her n—- ❜ A shot rings out. A rose blooms from the director’s forehead. Red splatters, the knife clatters to his feet.

❛ Victim of her own rifle, isn’t that poetic? ❜ Hyperion is g i g g l i n g, her former mentor’s Glock laying idle on her lap. He knows Gaia is dead. There is no life in twisted limbs and glassy eyes. He doesn’t lower his weapon. Thanatos’ fingers are on the trigger -- hesitation no longer marring his features -- when Hyperion winks. ❛ Your agents are still in the building, Kai. What’s more important to you: v e n g e a n c e or saving countless of l i v e s? ❜

   He’s always hated ultimatums.

TICK TOCK, goes the c l o c k ; there is no time to MOURN her.

❛ Enact evacuation protocol n o w. I’m overriding Gaia’s orders— all agents are to get the hell out of here. Do you understand? ❜ Thanatos barks into the comm line with poorly disguised fury. ❛ Not until I hear from Gai—- ❜ Hermes starts, voice a mess of static interference. ❛ Gaia is d e a d. This placed is rigged to explode. Do not argue with me, Rowan. ❜ The line goes silent. 

“You’re trying to say you’re not a moron?” Moirai uttered, raising her brows as she challenged his stance. “You literally sit in front of a panel of computers all day watching everyone else live their life! A monkey could do that...” and it’d probably do a better job of it, too. For the past two years, ever since Nathaniel had walked through the doors and into Olympus, the agent couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. Not in the sense that he was the missing piece of her heart, or the best friend she’d always wanted; but rather she was drawn to him like flame to wood, yelling, screaming, burning and consuming one another until they both turned to ash. But today was not the day they would fade away — he had always proven to be able to withstand her heat, and when the television in his room flickered to life with one of the most haunting videos Moirai would ever watch with her own eyes, the blonde knew that there was only one way out. Together. Despite their differences, the pair made one hell of a team... she just needed to know if he was on her side. So the girl turned away from the screen before them, casting poisonous green eyes onto his curiously hazel ones as she tried to seek the truth in his eyes. Wordlessly, the agent extended a hand, her jacket lifting ever so slightly so that the knife tucked against its inside lining flashed dangerously in the dimming lights. The gesture was silent, but the words unspoken were deafening. Are you with me?

TIME IS RUNNING OUT. CHRONOS checks his Rolex yet again, his cool and collected resolve coming a p a r t at the seams by each passing minute he was still here. He isn’t trained for a situation where his charm and wiles were rendered obsolete. The founder was a self-proclaimed pacifist in a sea of professionally trained killers; how could he have thought this was a safe bet in the slightest? How could he have thought that this time around would be any different than the last? There’s so very much familiarity to the corruption within his home– it’s all the s a m e… history only serves to repeat itself. ❛ ---No way! ❜ HERMES calls out, voice hardly carrying over the sound of helicopter blades gathering momentum. Chronos gives his niece an exasperated look and makes a point of holding his hand out even further for her to take and climb on board with him. ❛ Hermes– ❜ ❛ NO. ❜ ❛ —You’re coming with me! I made a promise to your parents to prote– ❜ ❛ I don’t care, it’s not RIGHT! The agents deserve better than us fucking bailing on them! ❜ She doesn’t need to say the words– but something’s changed. She doesn’t see her uncle as someone to look up to a n y m o r e.  COWARD is written all over her face. For a moment, they look at each other with the same eyes–  full of ACCEPTANCE. ❛ promise me you’ll get as far away from this life as possible, ❜ Chronos asks as he sits back into his seat, realizing something he never wanted to come to terms with. He can’t stop her. Hermes shakes her head, determination on her features-- she know’s exactly what she’ll do. She will be brave. ❛ I won’t run away from this. ❜ With a soft look of admiration-- No, PRIDE, Chronos then only offers a small smile and signals his pilot to take off, watching her grow smaller as his helicopter gains altitude. He can only hope that he’ll see her again. 

█ : // 1/1/16 - 12:29 HOURS : CONTROL ROOM, UNDERGROUND BUNKER .