The enterprise was currently serving as the headquarters for the Navy; and also as a meeting point for a wide variety of interested parties from around the world. As a carrier, it was already a fairly important structure; However most of that importance was lost when when the majority of the remaining fighter strength the United States possessed was lost during what was now being called the Pacific Storm, and most of its fighters were now at the bottom of the ocean; though soon, replacements would come from every airforce base that had one left. A single strange, heavily modified fighter with an image of a green dragon-girl was the only one above the deck at present; and had a flight crew working it over; slowly, as they were reading schematics as they checked the flight surfaces.

Smaller ships and helicopters were still searching the wreckage, rescuing sailors where they could find them, recovering any useful equipment, and looking askance at the handful of machines that were the ocean beneath the fleet and surfacing occasionally with whatever intact parts survive their voyage to the depths.

The enterprise itself, like most of the newer aircraft carriers, had a rail gun mounted above the flight deck, a rail gun which had just recently been pivotal in fending off the swarm of Jotun Craft that had been heading to Famiglia; and which had been fired until it was no longer operable; the rails had superheated and fused, and even now, as the vessel was starting to cruise southward, it was already being repaired; new rails lay out on the deck, and a team were slowly working the old ones free.

Below all this work, the control tower had become the meeting room; of the most dangerous living things remaining on earth.

***

General Gates.. wasn't looking well. He had lost weight, hair was falling out; he had looked fit when Eyeball last saw him. Now? Like he was about to die; he was huddled in his chair, quiet. He wasn't even in charge here; Director Thomes was, somehow.

The Director was... not what Eyeball expected. He looked rough; like someone who had seen hundreds of fights, and definitely hadn't won them all, or even most of them. Scars on the face, a visible limp... but he still moved well enough in an armored black DMA bodysuit.

The figures in the room were... a strange mix. A camera in one seat at the head of the table was secured beneath a TV showing an entirely different table on the other side of the world; with a mix of Chinese, Indian, and Pakistani military gathered around it, though the vast majority were Chinese.

The residents of the seats, however... Eyeball in his trademark chrome helmet. Swiftblade in her own standard blue armored bodysuit; now with some sort of tablet mounted in each fore-arm and other attachments around the chest. Valkyrie and Butcher, the two quietly talking back and forth; the two massive figures clearly having quite a bit they needed to sort out in private, but keeping it down at present. Zeus... who had only stopped his flirting with a young lieutenant when Hera and Hephaestus entered; Hera a statuesque, tall, regal woman in her long white dress and golden crown; while Hephaestus looked like... a space marine. Massive, bulky powered armor with a variety of attachments and glowing bits; and a massive glowing hammer at his back.

The rest of those at the table wore US and Canadian uniforms; a single Brazilian general marking the only South American who had arrived in time; and of course... a tall, skeletal red machine, with a golden hammer and sickle emblazoned on it.

Thomes stood at the opposite end of the table from the camera and display, looking around the room.

"First off, folks, we have the good news. Every single Jotun advance has been halted. Those here in the Americas primarily by naval forces, those in Asia mostly by ground forces centered on the Wall. Different levels of casualties for each; we estimate over thirty thousand Jotun were involved in each invasion, and at least a few recovered from them all... though the assault on the wall, and the destruction of India, cost those two armies almost their entire force, while the rest of the forces were able to recover a significant proportion."

He taps a button on his end of the table. A holographic globe emerged; turning slowly so everyone can see the earth, with Antarctica highlighted in red, the moon, and scattered blue dots in orbit. "The Jotun fleet is grounded. We now control orbit once more, and Hephaestus has already begun deploying new comsats; nothing over Antarctica, yet, as the Jotun appear able to shoot them down. Jotun casualties up til now include over ninety percent of their starships, and at least three quarters of their ground troops. Eyeball and Spike cleared the skies for us, the Chinese hammered them into the ground so hard that there isn't much left."

"Quite simply... once we crush whats left around the south pole... the war will be over, and we can get to the long, difficult task of rebuilding and establishing a quarantine. To that end... we're making the following plans. All non-meta military units will be assigned to search and rescue, as well as quarantine. There are hundreds of bio-weapons out there, and we have cures for maybe half of them. Absolutely no population movement from this point forward; everything from one community to another will be escorted, inspected, and guarded. If we want to survive this... we need to be willing to shoot civilians who try to break quarantine."

He looked around the table. "The US will be assigning its guard and army forces to this task within its borders, and will have units to spare to assist some of our southern neighbors. China will be assisting the remnants of India with this task. The US is instituting an emergency draft; I believe most of your leaders are doing similar. We might be able to keep things contained... but there will still be mass casualties. Entire cities have already been written off, and we need to keep that quiet. Every meta-human who can fight, and some of our elite special-forces units, are going to be heading south. Every aircraft we have. Every boat. Every tank. We should be bringing over a thousand meta-humans to the party who are at least equal to a Jotun, and backing them up with aircraft, tanks, and special forces."

On the screen at the end of the table, a strange, glowing figure rose. "Against my advice, I have been given command of the forces that will be advancing from the middle kingdom. You may call me General Wu. We will also be bringing over one thousand of the blessed, and while the navy of the middle kingdom was not as great as your own before this war, it has yet to meet the enemy in battle; and will be heading south at full strength, carrying our own aircraft. We have commandeered a series of cargo vessels to carry additional forces and supplies; we will need to secure a good landing position, as these lack the sort of defenses and armor to keep them safe from even a casual Jotun attack."

Zeus rose to his feet, smiling. "Over a hundred of my children, and all of the surviving Olympians, will be heading south as well. With the aid of the Titans..." He glanced at Valkyrie and Butcher for a moment, smiling. "We are likely sufficient to carry the day on our own; but with your aid, we can ensure casualties stay at a minimum among our forces and ensure no Jotun escape. In addition, Hephaestus, before the battle in space, hid away many of our space-bound resources; we will likely have every bit as much orbital infrastructure to support rebuilding as we had before the war, when this is over. More, if we can salvage Jotun equipment. That Spike fellow turned all of the asteroids the Jotun were planning to drop on us... and their entire fleet... into a nice ball, dense with raw materials, with an almost smooth outer shell; my brother should be able to do something useful with it."

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Hephaestus gave a low chuckle; his voice booming from the armor's speakers. "An orbital station, most likely. A good point to bring useful people we've confirmed are safe from bio-weapon contamination and coordinate saving the world. Perhaps Prometheus II."

Penelope rose to her own feet, smiling. "Thanks to the intervention of the US Navy, La Famiglia was barely touched. We have over eighteen hundred metahumans of various levels of power willing to go to war against the Jotun; some of whom are more common, while others just ridiculously dangerous. Honestly, much like the Olympians, I suspect our forces could handle the Jotun on their own at this point; especially since we have enough Reflex to ensure our forces are the ones with the speed advantage. There's enough to share, by the way; we are willing to provide each soldier that accompanies our people with doses of their own.... and, well. I've also got a message from someone more useful than all of them put together. But... one we may want to carefully consider treating as a threat instead."

She pulled a tablet off of her phone, and set it on the table. After a moment, the hologram of the earth vanished; to be replaced by an image of... something. Some sort of strange, metal monstrosity with hundreds of tentacles projecting from it. "This... is the Iron Dreadnaught. The Emperor of Iron's throne and flagship. It's made out of a custom-built military vessel merged with the parts of three Jotun Starships... and possibly capable of destroying every surviving Jotun on its own, with a little luck. The Emperor has offered to assist us in eradicating the Jotun, in exchange for us ceding control of him to those regions struck by the bombs; specifically, Europe and western Asia. He... already has solid control of Africa, and the locals there practically worship him after what he's done there."

Thomes taped his gloved fingers against the table; and looked closely at the projection. "Can I have that data, Swiftblade?"

She nodded. "Of course. He's distributing the full video of his... 'Victory over the pathetic Jotun invaders' to everyone he can. Seems to be his current hobby."

Thomes nodded. "Thank you. I... think we should turn down this offer. In fact, I hate to say it, but we may need to deal with him, after the Jotun. If he were to come down there alongside us and absorb the rest of their fleet..."

Around the table, some of the figures simply looked amused; most of them didn't know the Emperor of Iron well enough to understand what he was capable of. Ascension rose to its own feet. "Unfortunately, my own contributions will be minimal; I project I will only be able to include less than five thousand units. As we speak, Mister Thompson and this Iron Dreadnaught are sweeping the coast of South America. Having cleansed Africa of both my own forces and the Jotun, he seems intent on hunting all of my units down. Any surviving units will assist as best they can, but they will need to remain with organic accompaniment in the event the enemy uses their Disrupters. I would highly recommend having some of me among any invading groups, as it is unlikely the Jotun will deploy their drone swarms against forces including us."

Thomes studied the machine. "Are you going to be trying to conquer the world yourself, after this?"

"My intent was never conquest. My objective is to liberate humanity from rule by the oligarchs; as well as to ensure its survival. At present, this means assisting in quarantine efforts and fighting the Jotun. If any of my units survive, they will continue attempting to turn humanity towards the collective good."

He sighed. "I wish one of my verifiers could make sure that was true. We'll work with you, for now. Those drone swarms were devastating, and your robots will be useful, in the battles ahead." He looked around. "Okay, people. We know where one of the Jotun landing sites is. We have time to rest, re-arm, and repair; the entire fleet will be gathered in... three days?" He looked at the screen.

General Wu nodded. "Three days. The army of the fallen will also be gathered there, for its final battle. When the last of the Jotun falls, our purpose will fade; and we will go to rest at last."

The meeting started to dissolve. Penelope pulling Thomes aside, Valkyrie and Butcher heading upstairs to have a quiet; if intense; conversation about his failure to talk to her earlier... and Zeus casually took Eyeball by the shoulder; Eyeball could see it coming, but saw... any attempt to dodge simply led to Zeus following him along. His only options were to fight, or let the man grab him.

He grimaced; and accepted the powerful grip; the painful squeeze on his bruised limb. "Ahh. Eyeball. Come. Walk with me. We need to have a chat."

***

"I noticed you have Apollo's dagger. How did you happen to come by that?" The two walked along the deck; Zeus still holding firm to Eyeball's shoulder; but Eyeball stopped; he wasn't as strong as Zeus, but he certainly was no pushover anymore.

"I tolerated it in there because of the number of casualties it would take to kill you, including people I liked." He gripped the 40mm handgun. If need be, he could pop it into his prosthesis and obliterate them both in the same heartbeat. And... the tenner would actually make the god bleed. Especially if he used reflex and aimed for the eyes. "But if you don't remove that hand, you and Odin will share an eyepatch; and if you keep acting like an asshole, you can ask Apollo how I got it firsthand."

Zeus... could shatter his shoulder into paste with a squeeze of his hand. Granted, by the time he'd finished that, he'd be blind; Eyeball focused directly on Zeus, the smooth chrome face reflecting his own glare back at him... as he relaxed his grip. "You realize he was like a brother to me. I'd known him since before there were pyramids. Before the fall of the Titans, even; it was his plan that ended them. His plan that gave us this fighting chance against the Jotun."

"His plan is also what ended with the two of us in an escape pod in the middle of a jungle with him pointing my own gun at my head when I woke up. And his plan that gave us this war to begin with. I have no quarrel with you unless you make one. He tried to kill me. He failed. If I have to play Kratos and start fighting my way through the Olympians, I will, but honestly I always liked you guys. Especially Hephaestus."

"..Why is it always Hephaestus? I'm the handsome one. He always hides in his armor."

Eyeball shrugged; and grimaced. His shoulder was even more sore now. "He's awesome. He makes your thunderbolts. He makes awesome gadgets. Faster than light drives! He's... well. If I were going to worship one of you lot, it'd be him."

Zeus nodded. "Give me the dagger." He extended his hand. "I make no promises, for now; consider it a momentary truce, until the Jotun fall. But that dagger was forged with my strength, Hephaestus's brilliance, and Odin's wisdom. It belongs to an Olympian."

Eyeball reached down to his belt, feeling the silver dagger. It was pretty. Ornate. And undoubtedly vastly powerful in magic. It could be incredibly useful. But... Zeus was pretty much Apollo's family.

He slid the dagger free. Could it hurt Zeus? Ahhh.. no. If he even tried, it would turn and stab him. Just like his handgun would have done if Apollo tried to shoot him with it. Huh. Eyeball flipped it, and extended it to Zeus hilt-first, after making sure that if he did, Zeus wouldn't just immediately stab him; though he did back away a step, after Zeus took the blade... and held it in the air.

"Apollo. Is he telling the truth? Did you point a gun at him, threaten his life? I thought we agreed not to."

A sudden soft, golden glow emerged from the dagger; and Eyeball could hear Apollo's voice. Still seeming like just a boy, even in death. "Yes. Look, I know you wanted to recruit him. But it was a simple matter of practicality. I was going to get my powers back, eventually. So I needed him out of the picture. Every precognitive on earth makes all the others less effective."

Zeus nodded; and settled the dagger into a bag at his hip; the dagger audibly protesting at being shoved into the darkness and sealed away. "Ugh. Practicality." The glow faded away. "Honestly, if he'd died from the fall, I'd be making you an Olympian. But since you killed one of us, certain rules come into play. We have to have a meeting, and vote on what to do with you. Amusingly enough, killing an Olympian has four default responses; kill the murderer, torment him endlessly, reward him if the kill was proper, or invite him to our ranks. Odin got that last option, but declined the invitation. I wonder how they'll choose for you."