Gotham's Dead End Bar INTERLUDE 6 (Patreon)

[AN: I’m not going for the standard approach to greek mythology here. Or even the DC canon approach. It’s more of a personal headcanon thing with interpretations I’ve come across and liked and some original ideas all blended together. Hopefully, the end result is relatively functional and more importantly, interesting.]

IIIII

Slightly out of synch with reality — halfway in the Sphere of Gods — The peak of Mount Olympus, Home of the Gods, could be described as an idyllic scene. Clouds floated far overhead and also covered the mountain itself like cottonwood pollen on a field of grass. Species and people from myth and legend went about their daily immortal business atop the mountain.

The Harpies were hawking their heinous songs. The Nymphs were singing much more pleasantly. The Satyrs were flirting with everything that had a pulse. Unicorns frolicked through the divine city’s streets. Pegasi and Centaurs alike drank themselves into comas with an indulgence that would have surprised those unfamiliar with their breed.

Figures of legendary acclaim formed Mount Olympus’s lifeblood, the divine realm’s backbone. Some were minor gods and goddesses in their own right. Others were merely immortalized after death, granted an alternative to the heavenly Greek Fields of Elysium. Olympus was almost like any other city. Just a touch more diverse, a touch more mythical.

None of it existed in the mortal realm, simply superimposed upon an otherwise mundane mountaintop. Grand temples were dedicated to the Greek Gods and Goddesses. The entire city seemed to be carved from pristine marble and the concept of divinity itself. Streets lined with stalls and open-aired markets came together in that place slightly above reality. Like a beautiful labyrinth, the streets and temples and fountains all seemed to lead toward Olympus’ peak.

And there at the peak, a shared space existed. A space for the twelve ruling Olympian gods (plus one honorary but highly revered Hearth goddess who consistently acted as the glue of the divine family. Oh, and Hades…) to gather. An open-air forum, made of sparkling stone and inlaid with platinum and gold. As one might expect from the divine, it was lined with enormous thrones, meant to declare the gods’ greatness to the heavens.

On a throne slightly off to the side of his brothers, Hades sighed to himself in bone-deep exasperation. His brothers — Zeus and Poseidon — took up the space at the head of the shared space. Because of course, they did. Even Hades, who should have been their equal — or at least Poseidon’s — was relegated ever-so-slightly out of the way, put there almost as an afterthought.

The whole Olympic family was gathered to discuss something ‘important’. The discussion didn’t get far before devolving into the same familiar bickering that they’d been doing for millennia. None escaped the petty familial drama, even the most reasonable among them — the only ones to even try.

Zeus and Poseidon were arguing as usual. Trading verbal shots over something utterly pointless. Again. They always did this.

“I’m just saying, perhaps the newest development in Olympus should be dedicated to me,” Poseidon said, trying to play the ‘reasonable’ brother. He was anything but.

Yet somehow, Zeus always managed to be even more unreasonable, “Preposterous! You have the whole sea at your disposal! The sky is my domain.”

“Wouldn’t that mean you don’t need the new temple either?”

“But Mount Olympus is firmly in the clouds, is it not?!”

“You just wish to covet the Nymphs that will play dress-up as temple girls.”

“Bah! And you are any different, Brother?!”

“At least I’m open and upfront about it. Especially with my wife. Amphitrite and I could always use new toys to play with.”

“Now, that’s just unfair! You know how Hera is!”

Hera — Zeus’ wife, who also happened to be sitting right next to him — shot her historically unfaithful husband a thunderous scowl, “I am going to hurt you, Husband. Grievously. And at great length.”

“Gah!” Zeus reacted as if physically struck. “Forget what was just said! I command it! As King of the Gods!”

“That doesn’t work on me, Zeus, you sanctimonious asshat!” Hera snapped. “It hasn’t for a long time! You’ve gone dull! Must you insult me directly to my face?!”

“Hera, Dear,” Zeus tried to soothe his wife, a cycle that had played out countless times before. “You know he’s just proclaiming lies, don’t you? I would never dispute a temple’s dedication over something as silly as a few Nymphs.”

“Yes, you would! You said it yourself and you’ve done it many times before!” Hera roared. “By my divine femininity, I hate you sometimes, Husband…”

Zeus chuckled awkwardly to himself, “Well, I wouldn’t do it ‘this’ time…”

“Bullshit!/Bullshit!” Hera and Poseidon shouted as one, coming together in agreement at just how infuriating their Brother/Husband/King was.

Immortal children, Hades thought with almost painful rolled eyes. A throbbing divine migraine was beginning to build at the back of his skull. Oh, how he wished he could be back in the underworld where he belonged, laying his head on his beloved wife’s lap while she scratched his scalp and listened to him rant about his infuriating siblings.

Alas, it was not to be at the moment. The Olympians had come together to discuss something relatively worthwhile — what exactly they should be doing about the adopted minor goddess Hecate. Of course, nothing ever went to plan with this family. The big argument at the head of the throne room was far from the only one that had been sparked by gathering all of the Olympians in one place.

Demeter, Hades’ mother-in-law — and sister but Olympian incestuous relationships were a mess that even the Greek Gods knew not to acknowledge — was glaring at him from behind a loaf of bread. As usual. Even after literal millennia, Hades’ dear sister still held a grudge about him and Persephone ‘eloping’ together. Yes, it was technically more complicated than that. No, Hades did not feel like delving into it at that moment.

“Grrrrrrr~… Deadbeat,” Demeter growled at Hades through an angrily bitten mouthful of her harvested, bread-ly domain.

Hades ignored her through ease of long practice. The rest of the thrones were arrayed in the shape of an omega (Ω). The only Olympian Hades knew he could count on to be reasonable (other than himself but even he wasn’t always immune to joining his family’s bickering) filled in the ‘free’ space at the bottom of the omega, exactly opposite Zeus.

Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home, was content to sit and tend to her fire. Like Hades, she wasn’t ‘technically’ an Olympian. At least, not one of the twelve that maintained thrones on Olympus. But she was easily still the most widely respected and liked member of their divine family.

As one of the original six children of Kronos and Rhea, she was deserving of an Olympian throne in her own right. Instead, she’d voluntarily stepped down to make space for the youngest among them — Dionysus, who was still more than two millennia old…

Hestia was the best of the Olympians, in Hades’ qualified opinion. Much better than Hades himself. He was under no illusions that he couldn’t be just as bad as his brothers at times. He liked to think he was the most reasonable out of himself, Zeus, and Poseidon.

But even then, Hestia handily had all three of them (and the rest of the pantheon) beat with how reasonable, accommodating, and simply kind she was. She always had a warm smile and ear to lend, a space at her fire where one’s worries stopped being so troublesome.

Even now as the Olympic family bickered over nothingness, she watched on patiently. Hades could recognize the comforting aura of her domain over all of them. A blanketing field of Hearth and Home that kept arguments from coming to true blows. Sometimes, he wondered if the rest of his family knew just how instrumental Hestia was to keeping the entire Greek pantheon together.

As always, it was a shame Persephone wasn’t here. His wife was the only Greek Goddess whom Hades thought ‘might’ be able to equal Hestia. He was rather biased in that opinion, of course. Hades was VERY fond of his wife. And very grateful that she put up with him in his darker moments. Being Ruler of the Underworld was not always a kind job, after all.

One of the only other gods there that Hades considered even somewhat reasonable was the aforementioned youngest — Dionysus, God of Wine and Revelry. And that was largely because he was simultaneously too drunk and too sober to bother with the usual Olympian drama. He kept to himself, more often than not. Hades knew better than to underestimate the divine family’s youngest though. Because what was drunkenness if not another form of DELIRIUM…?

His niece Athena would have likely taken umbrage with Hades’ ‘reasonable family’ assessment. She was, after all, the ‘wise one’ — being of Wisdom and War. At the same time, she was ungodly stubborn (ironically enough) and could be quite unreasonable at the worst of times because of that. Thankfully, she appeared fine to stick her nose up to this current round of unproductive bickering.

The same could not be said for the rest of the Olympians. On Hades’ left, Ares leaned partially out of his seat to try and flirt with Aphrodite, not at all afraid to make their (admittedly well-known, if one-sided) ‘affair’ public. Hephaestus — Aphrodite’s actual husband — kept giving the hard-headed fool vicious shocks with some device or another he’d crafted.

That was always going to be a complicated situation. There was much more going on than almost anyone thought. The vast majority of people took Ares’ side of the story at face value. He said they were having an affair, that Aphrodite was crazy about him, that she didn’t ‘actually’ love Hephaestus.

She couldn’t. How would that make any sense? Obviously, she was being forced to stay with him. She was the most desirable woman in all of Greek mythology. He was… Hephaestus. Most of the gods agreed. Hell, it was even the story that spread to the mortal masses.

Hades knew differently. Because of course, he did. What he had with his dear Persephone was not all that different, in truth. Aphrodite and Hephaestus were more than happy together. They were truly in love.

Even the other Olympians tended to dismiss Aphrodite as a shallow being. She was anything but. She was the goddess of Love and Beauty — in all their shapes and forms. As much as she Loved delicate features and handsome physiques, she Loved the more intangible aspects of beauty even more. The kindness and care one could show for another, the unconditional devotion to someone wholly Loved.

In truth, she was ecstatic to give Hephaestus the love he’d been starved of, to Lovingly dote upon his genius of sooty hands and sweaty brow. In return, he took her seriously, saw more than just her outer beauty as the other gods did, and treated her as more than just ‘the sex goddess’. And he spent their time together creating ever-more gifts for her, bringing brand new beauty into the world just to make her happy and to see her smile at him.

They were a couple that didn’t get out much. The rest of the fools in the Olympic family rationalized that fact away as more evidence of their ‘loveless’ marriage. They willfully rejected the truth of the matter. Because ‘c’mon! It’s Aphrodite! There’s no way she’s happy with a man who loves her for her instead of just coveting her beauty!’

Truthfully, the couple did quite well with each other. Even though Ares couldn’t take a hint to save his life and constantly tried to flirt with Aphrodite, serving as fuel for rumors of an affair that wasn’t there. Aphrodite and Hephaestus were quite content to ignore the rumors, the shallow talk of the gods.

When they wished for company as a couple, they simply sought out those who were willing to see the truth. Hades and Persephone were actually frequent guests of the odd couple, as was Hestia, and even Dionysus once or twice. Hades hid a smile as Hephaestus and his invention gave Ares a particularly debilitating shock that had the stubborn god half-sprawled out of his throne.

On the other side of the omega, the celestial twins Artemis and Apollo traded shots back and forth as siblings tended to do. The subject matter for that argument was even more insignificant than the argument at the head of the omega between Hera, Zeus, and Poseidon. Every time Hades glanced over at them, he felt his migraine pulse even more fiercely.

Fashion. Immortal fashion, but still fashion. Apollo was nitpicking the uniforms of Artemis’ huntresses. Saying he could make them look better if she would only let him. As expected, Artemis vehemently refused. But the worst part about that side of the throne room was that Hermes was egging the celestial twins on for his own smirking amusement, making sure the two diametrically opposing divines would not come to an already unlikely resolution.

Hades exhaled harshly, smoke curling away from his face with the breath. It seemed nothing productive would be getting done today. He should have expected as much, of course. It wasn’t as if there was something important to be decided. Like, say, a quest to retrieve a missing goddess…

Personally, Hades was rather ambivalent on the whole Hecate situation. Technically, he should probably feel the strongest on the subject. He was the one Hecate had been set to marry in that ancient pact. But honestly, he preferred the way things had turned out.

He was beyond happy with Persephone. Breaking things off with Hecate was unfortunate but it might have been the best thing he could have done for himself. Hades truly loved his wife. And while he likely would have come to be quite fond of Hecate, it would have been nothing like what he had with Persephone.

He did regret the crassness of his youth though. He’d been rather blunt when informing Hecate that he’d found someone else. It had led to her having something of a mental break, a split in her divine mantles. That, he did regret. And the fact that he’d never gotten the chance to apologize for his hurtful actions way back then.

As far as what they should do about Hecate now, Hades thought it best to live and let live. He knew his side of the pact was in error. The Olympians’ stipulations hadn’t been upheld for a very long time now. It would be best to just let the damned thing be broken.

He also knew that would never happen. Not with his siblings making the decisions. The Olympians were prideful beings. Prideful to a fault. No god or goddess had ever been allowed to leave the Greek Pantheon after joining it. They wouldn’t suddenly have a change of heart now.

In his brothers’ minds, the only solution was to return things to as they were. Maintaining the status quo. Hades thought that ship had long since sailed. And he didn’t particularly wish for the Crone to return anyway. Ever since his regrettable break with Hecate, she’d been a menace to the pantheon. But as far as the others were concerned, she was ‘their’ menace.

While Hades had his doubts, he couldn’t argue his position alone. The other reasonable Olympians were mostly staying out of the issue. They had no skin in the game. Not like he did. It wasn’t their mistake that drove them to this point.

Hades knew he shouldn’t have borne all the blame but asking his brothers to take responsibility for anything was similarly futile. Thus, Olympus was stuck in a tenuous position. One made only worse by those damned Fates. In Hades’ opinion, they’d gone too far this time, acting without input from the rest of the pantheon. But their decision to weave a quest and prophecy aligned with Zeus’ stance on the subject so there wasn’t much Hades could do alone.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Hades could certainly go against the rest of the pantheon’s wishes. It even seemed that he would have to. This discussion was not only unproductive due to the usual familial bickering, but it was also rather pointless. Zeus and Poseidon’s minds were made up. If they had their way, Hecate would be dragged back to them kicking and screaming.

After everything he’d unfortunately done, Hades felt that he owed her a warning at the least of it. Likely more aid than just that. Yes, he nodded to himself, a course of action resolving within his mind.

It would be best if he made some arrangements behind the scenes. Let his prideful and wrathful brothers send their demigod thralls and rely on ‘fate’. Hades would cloud the path in shadows as he did so well. After consulting with his beloved wife on just how to run that interference, of course. She was always much more wickedly clever than him. It was part of why he loved her so much, the sneaky minx~.

Until then though, Hades was stuck in this ‘meeting’. It wasn’t a real discussion, hadn’t been one from the start. Really, it was just an excuse for them to bicker. It felt like that was all they did these days. Meanwhile, Hades simply sat on his throne, drumming his fingers on the armrest. ‘Brooding’, as his Persephone would call it.

Hades brooded, as Hades did. A dark scowl shadowed his face as his frustrating brothers switched from ‘current issues’ to long-held feuds. Like the fact that Poseidon had an ‘open-minded, bad bitch’ of a wife and how Zeus lamented having to keep his dalliances ‘on the low’. As if. Zeus wouldn’t know subtle if it called him a manwhore to his face. Still, his complaints naturally drove Hera up the wall to the point that she set one of her holy peacocks upon him in wifely rage.

When Zeus managed to soothe Hera (he somehow always did, no matter how grievous his transgressions), a new element entered the vaunted hall at the peak of Mount Olympus. It slipped through the divine realm’s protections as if they weren’t even there. A controlled tear in reality opened up in the middle of the Olympians’ throne room. Through it dropped a man they were all familiar with, his arrival evoking surprised reactions and a touch of panic at just how he arrived.

Olympus was subtly conquered without a single raised weapon. Someone, something, had infiltrated the gods’ place of power as if it was nothing. Even Hades was left slightly worried by that development. There was no mistaking the unspoken threat in that action.

Hercules the XIIth fell to the floor between all of the gods. He was visibly terrified, shaking all over as if he was suddenly thrust naked into a blizzard. The demigod who’d been drafted for the Hecate quest broke then, wailing silent wails heedless of his audience. He also soiled himself, staining the hallowed marble of Olympus with his refuse to everyone’s visceral disgust.

“Dude…” Apollo muttered. “Not cool.”

“Wretched man-thing can’t even control its bladder,” Artemis sneered.

“By the River Styx! Get ahold of yourself, my son!” Zeus swore.

Poseidon shook his head, “I knew we should have sent one of mine…”

“Why is he silent?” Aphrodite quietly wondered, showing a quickness of wit that was always dismissed or ignored by anyone other than her true husband.

“Indeed,” Hephaestus nodded along just as quietly, always happy to avoid drawing attention to himself. “This silence, it is… forced upon him?”

“Stand up!” Ares barked, contrasting intensely with the quiet, reasonable couple beside him. “Like a proper warrior.”

Athena gave the wailing, pissing demigod a stern, disapproving frown, “I had believed we trained you better than this, Hercules. I am truly disappointed to see otherwise.”

Hestia, in her unending benevolence, was the only one who actually moved to help the struggling demigod. A moment of shame sparked in Hades’ mind before it passed just as quickly. He’d never particularly liked Hercules XII. Never liked the original and this iteration was an even more unpleasant copy.

Still, Hestia was too kind to not help. She briefly left her fire for his side, standing him up and cleaning up after him with a wave of her hand. The crying, shuddering, grown man clung to her like a babe as she put him back into sorts. She brushed him off and lent him strength, doting upon him for a moment. 

Hades wondered if she would still be doing so after they learned the reason for his arriving state. Even Hestia had to have her limits. Hades had never encountered them but he had the strangest premonition that was about to change…

“What has happened, my son?” Zeus asked, imposing and already furious before he’d heard a word.

No sound answered him.

“Well?!” Hera snapped. “Speak up! Your illegitimacy will not leave you unheard this time. I shall ignore it for now…”

Zeus glared at his wife, her infamous hostility for demigods shining brightly. At least she was trying at the moment, Hades thought. Hercules XII collected himself and opened his mouth to explain. Nothing came out. Not a single gasp. Not a single whisper. Nothing but Silence.

Perhaps understandably, Hercules XII panicked. Hestia soothed him with a whisper, “It’s okay, little one. We shall fix whatever ails you. For now, allow me.”

Hercules XII’s head jerked in a nod, his whole body and posture stiff. With gentle fingers and feelings of ‘Home’, Hestia reached into his mind. She drew back with something between her fingers, trailing sparks that quickly fleeted into nothing but warmth. Hercules XII sagged as if in relief and Hestia flicked the memories between her fingers to play before all of the gathered Olympians.

What they watched play out from Hercules XII’s memories filled all the gods with mixed feelings. Hestia immediately frowned at the demigod’s intruding and disregarding breach of Home and Hospitality. Yes, Hades thought, Hercules XII wouldn’t be receiving the same warmth from her after these memories were through.

Dionysus perked up for the first time in the meeting at the remembered scene of this ‘Dead End’ bar. The other gods frowned almost as one, not seeing what the problem was just yet. Hades, however, stiffened on his throne at the sight of a very distinctive and familiar being behind the bar.

“Oh fuck…” Hades exhaled, his voice barely a whisper beneath his breath.

Death of the Endless — Didi as she preferred to be called — was in this memory. Hades’ conceptual boss. The only being he truly answered to, far above Zeus or the Fates. She was just standing there. Not menacingly — none of Hades’ previous interactions with Didi could be considered menacing or unkind — but as if she definitively BELONGED there in that ‘Dead End’.

Hades’ breath caught in his throat as Didi seemed to turn directly to him. Even in the memory, she was looking at him and only him. She smiled. Not to intimidate, but a sort of fond exasperation tinted bittersweet. As if to say, ‘Look at this. How did we end up here? Ah, such a shame…’

The memory continued and Hades’ feeling of dread only grew. The foolish demigod boy had barged into what could reasonably be called ‘Death’s Domain’ with no tact or diplomacy. Then proceeded to piss off everyone inside to a worrying degree. Especially someone who seemed to be the owner of the establishment, a man who was using an honest-to-Source ANGEL (or something close enough to be practically indistinguishable) as a casual throne.

The demigod drafted for this quest was an idiot with a faulty sense of self-preservation. That much was becoming blatantly clear to Hades very quickly. Then again, that wasn’t much of a surprise. He was Zeus’ son. And named after that idiot Hercules on top of that.

Based on some of the things he said in the memory and the rest of the gods’ reactions, he’d likely been spoiled and coddled and filled with delusions of grandeur. The dolt seemed to think he was better than everyone else just because he was half-divine. Hades nearly snorted. As if that was an accomplishment or even impressive compared to some of the people he recognized in the bar.

Diana of Themyscira was an impressive demigod. But that wasn’t because she was a demigod. It was because of everything she’d done. She’d proven herself over and over again, sometimes against her own gods. Hercules XII had none of that track record.

He’d just been born a demigod — likely out of one of Zeus’ many, meaningless one-night stands — and seemingly raised by Ares and Athena. Surviving both of them could be considered a worthy feat. But even training under Athena hadn’t seemed to have done anything for his wisdom. As for the ‘Fated of Apollo’ boast, that was a dime a dozen. Apollo was a fickle god, free with how he gave out his boons. And the ‘Most Favored of Hera’ boast was a straight-up fabrication as far as Hades could tell.

Hera’s reaction certainly seemed to agree with that assumption as she quite literally spat off to the side in disgust, glaring at Hercules XII, “You presumptuous ingrown toenail! I should strike you down where you stand! I barely even knew you existed before this damned quest!”

Hermes whistled, “That takes balls, man. Big balls.”

“Still stupid beyond belief though,” Dionysus casually commented, putting in his opinion for the first time in the meeting. “The kind of idiotic courage that really shouldn’t be celebrated.”

Hercules XII shrunk in on himself as if he could avoid Hera’s legendary wrath like that. It wasn’t likely. The idiot demigod hadn’t just dug his own grave. He’d hopped in it of his own volition as well. He’d be lucky to escape this with those ‘big balls’ of his intact.

Even Hestia was subtly distancing herself from him. That was almost impressive. She was practically impossible to anger but spitting in the face of Hospitality and Sanctuary seemed to have done it.

How they knew the Sanctuary part of that was hard to describe. Hecate was nowhere to be seen in the memory. But the moment they thought about her — the whole purpose of the demigod’s quest — the gods of Olympus knew that she’d been offered Sanctuary within the Dead End. She was safe, sound, and not to be bothered by their arrogant meddling.

The strange knowledge seemed to set Zeus on the very edge of divine fury, “Who does this man think he is?! Does this establishment think itself above Olympus?! Bah! As if we would abide by this supposed ‘Sanctuary’! Hecate is ours to claim!”

‘Like idiot son, like idiot father,’ Hades deadpanned to himself. ‘And now Hestia is glaring at Zeus as well. I have a feeling I won’t be able to stop him from picking a rather unfortunate fight…’

The memory continued and the events that followed succeeded in sending Zeus straight into a rage. From Hercules XII’s perspective, they watched as he was Silenced by something… Infinite. Just a few words made the Infinite woman seem larger than anything most of them had seen. Hades’ already pale skin paled even more at the sight of someone who could theoretically match one of the Endless, an unknown player at that.

“Oh, dear,” Aphrodite murmured. “That is… concerning…”

“Grandmother Gaia, she has no end!” Poseidon exclaimed.

“No decorum either,” Hera scoffed.

“That-! That Infinite bitch!” Zeus thundered.

Hades barely suppressed a groan. Yes, his family was almost certainly going to be as unreasonable as they always were about all of this. It was an insult that couldn’t stand in their minds. His long-suffering frustration was only exasperated by the owner of the establishment stepping forward to finish what the Infinite Woman started.

In Hercules XII’s memory, he somehow managed to seem even larger than Infinity. Hercules XII — and the Olympians as a result — were allowed to gaze deeply into the bartender’s being. Power, Magic, and Death greeted them. A chill ran down Hades’ spine as he realized what they were looking at. The bartender was Death’s Chosen. And Magic’s current favorite being.

He didn’t have to declare such things for them to be true. They simply WERE. The world didn’t shake at the Truth of his being. Reality reaffirmed itself in his presence, making everything so much more real. A heavy, pressing weight — impossible to comprehend — as Death embraced him as her lover and Magic frolicked underfoot like an over-eager puppy.

Hercules XII looked into the bartender’s eyes. There, he saw Death. The END OF ALL THINGS. Unconstrained by its usual Endless rules. He saw a force of nature and an aspect of existence that despised all of his being at that moment. He saw no escape, no hope of fighting back. His entire world existed at the bartender’s mercy.

In the present, Hercules XII broke down again, wailing in silent terror. This time, no one came to his aid. The Olympians were momentarily struck silent by the bartender who defied everything they thought possible. Even power on a divine scale paled in comparison to what HE brought to bear.

Unfortunately, the (completely reasonable) stunned silence was not to last. Stormy tempers and thunderous pride won the moment. Zeus was utterly FURIOUS as the memory came to an end. The whole of Olympus was engulfed by dark, thundering clouds. The divine realm shook with a sky god’s rage.

Zeus shot out of his throne, standing tall with power the Olympians hadn’t seen since the final battle with Kronos, King of the Titans, “That bastard son of a whore! He dares?! I will smite him until not even ASH remains!”

None of the gathered Olympians were given a chance to reason or protest. Not when Zeus was this far gone. The insult to one of his own blood was too much. The way Zeus saw it, the bartender had stolen something of his own — Hecate —, spat in his face, and dismissed him as if he was something not even worth scoffing at.

The King of the Gods would not rest until the insult was repaid. An impossibility considering Zeus was already giving the offender his personal attention instead of dismissing him as unimportant as he’d done for Zeus. Logic was the last thing that could reach Zeus now though.

He cast his attention to this ‘Dead End’ in a far-off land. He drew his arm back, taut and straining with physical might. Divine power gathered in his palm. Legendary lightning crackled and seethed, vaporizing everything it touched but the god who called it. With a great heave from myth, Zeus visited his wrath upon the mortal world as he hadn’t in millennia.

Olympus shook. It rumbled with divine thunder. The air itself cried out as if the apocalypse had come early. It was a poor imitation compared to the true END OF ALL THINGS…

In the mortal realm, Zeus’ legendary lightning didn’t even reach the Dead End. It certainly tried — a pillar of pure godly light descending upon a single specific point in Gotham. Then the Dead End deflected the smiting as if it was nothing. In the casual blink of an eye, the lightning was returned to its sender.

Zeus was struck by his own divine fury, his scream of pain and indignation heard beyond Olympus’ borders. The Sphere of Gods winced as one as they felt the justified, divine retribution visited back upon Zeus. Zeus himself went stiff in shock. Quite literally as he was electrified viciously enough to show his bones through his godly flesh.

He fell back on his throne — the King of the Gods stricken low. Zeus lay stiff as a board at a 45-degree angle instead of settling into the throne. He didn’t get up, merely jerking mindlessly as he fought against his own attack, his own divinity.

It was a clear warning if Hades’ had ever seen one. Completely deserved as well. Zeus had attacked an unknown. Unprompted and without considering the consequences. As far as Hades was concerned, his brother could take a timeout in that divine coma for a while.

The other Olympians didn’t feel the same, of course. There was an instant clamor as they all reacted and quickly declared the event an attack on Olympus itself. Hades couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Yes, he was done with his divine family for the moment. It would be best to distance himself from them and let them seek their brain-dead ‘vengeance’.

At least the reasonable members of his family weren’t joining the unthinking chaos. Aphrodite and Hephaestus were holding their own court. Dionysus seemed interested in the Dead End but otherwise, largely unconcerned. Hestia worried at her lip and met Hades’ observing gaze. She gave him a small, troubled smile.

Hades nodded back at her. He’d have to include her in his plans for the future. Because there was no way he was going to simply leave Zeus’ (admittedly ineffective) attack to speak for him on its own. Not when his conceptual boss Didi was involved on the other side.

He sighed to himself, prepared to grovel. Even as a god, there was a first for everything, it seemed. Hopefully, his dear Persephone would help him with the diplomatic aspects of his apology. He never was a people person…