The vigil, held in remembrance of the Colchis City Bombing, was broadcasted on the Zariah Network. The broadcast was displayed on the window panels of the conference lobby at the top of Iolcus Tower. The lobby hosted esteemed guests that gathered to be the first to see what breakthroughs Garrick Iolcus would unveil this time. The office staff were sent to their dorms, with only cooks and caterers left. The guests enjoyed their dinners seated at tables on one side of the lobby. Song filled the room when the Oracle Church Choir took the stage.
While this went on, the host was in his office where he watched over his domain. He prepared his favorite martini, this time shaken rather than stirred. While he did not have a screen in his room, he viewed the vigil through the Stiletto drones as if they were his own eyes. Olympus was not designed to be the stage of a battle even when half of it was a military base.
Tartarus was designed by him, under budgetary and political constraints, and was now out of his jurisdiction with WhiteOut taking command. The drones there were automated and could be remotely piloted if needed, but neither were as precise or coordinated as having his direction. On top of that, this vigil and dinner conference should have both been canceled, but WhiteOut overruled him. Many things were beyond his control, which made him grip all the tighter on things that were.
The Saber drones were the first responders who would alert the soldiers and Broadswords. If the enemy can teleport as WhiteOut claims, then the ability to rapidly respond to a strike was all the more important. The Knight-armored soldiers that stood guard at the vigil and in the lobby were equipped with cryogenic weapons and shock pikes. They were designed for crowd control, but it was learned that derivations of mutations were the most effective way of combating mutants.
Mutations. Magic. Mere semantics.
The main members of the Pantheon were spread out. WhiteOut took Underdog to protect Tartarus. Zariah was sent home to her family. Captain Force, Vandimion, and Nguyen were sent out with only Iolcus informed of their true location. If need be, Vandimion could return to the city in a moment, but to get to Tartarus would take some time even for her. They could take care of themselves if they were attacked.
Feign weakness to lure them out, right, WhiteOut?
Delsin Rowe and Todd Nguyen were with the enemy. Neither were very impressive at first, but who knows what they may be like now. Both would have been put in Tartarus if Garrick had his way.
‘And if they get wrong?‘ a thought not in his voice rang in his head. He’s gonna need to drink more.
The vigil was going to end soon. He poured out his bubbly, blue drink into the small, frail shot glass. That glass was picked up by a lumpen, iron mitten. The rumble and whirr of the Fatman suit could be heard all over the lobby as the choir finished their final notes and the broadcast faded into transparency. At the top of the staircase, Garrick's office door swung open. The Fatman suit sauntered out with heavy footsteps to the applause of the audience.
“Thank you, thank you,” greeted the FatMan as it waved its other gauntlet, “We have a good view of the park from here, or it would be if that big, rusty crane wasn’t ruining the skyline, not much we could do about that. It’s going to be hard to follow that up but I’ll try. Let’s see, uh, pain is not what brings us together.” The Fatman began to—methodically—descend the stairs that groaned under the weight of each step. “That’s so right. When I made this suit, I was a child. I thought this was all I needed. A suit of armor that could protect the world from any threats and lead humanity beyond the horizon.
That’s how I sold it to you, and to myself.” FatMan finally reached the bottom of the staircase where the armor unfurled to allow the LittleBoy suit to step out. Another round of applause. The LittleBoy used its fingers to pluck the martini out of FatMan’s suspended mitts and walked past the secretary's desk under his office to the center of the room. ”Now I understand it requires more than that. Which is what the new LittleBoy suit is meant to stand for.
Take Sergeant Mallory, for example,” the windows around them raised an image of a man in a hospital bed, his amputated right arm wrapped up in elastic bandages, side-by-side with an image of him when he was in uniform. “He served his country abroad, with valor and honor, only to be injured in the safety of his own home by some punk with a bomb. As painful as it is to say, that was a situation that the clumsy hands of the FatMan could do little good for. Even Aaliyah, couldn’t fully heal everyone. Who knows what would have happened if GalvanGal wasn’t there. None of that is an excuse. It’s impossible to make up for what we lost that day but to try, I’ve invited Mr. Mallory to be here with us today. Why don’t you come up to the stage and say hi to everyone?”
Mr. Mallory stood up from his seat and waved his right arm. He came up to shake the LittleBoy’s hand and took the offered Martini.
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“How’s your arm feel Mallory… oh, never better? He said never better in case you didn’t hear him. That’s what the bleeding edge in synthetic prosthetics will do for you. Did I say impossible? I must have been mistaken because it’s looking quite possible here isn’t it?” continued Garrick under the audience’s celebration, “This is what the Pantheon is meant for! To lead humanity beyond the horizon!” He shouted.
The crowd ate it up with a standing ovation. The soldiers let their guns be held up by the sling as they clapped like they had never seen this before today. Everyone cheered. Everyone. Except for one man all the way in the back that couldn’t stand if he wanted to. He had four knights on guard with their pikes at the corners of his chair. His hands were in cuffs that were not built for him. His gaze pierced from across the room. Garrick had asked the others for more information about him but…
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“Alligators symbolize ancient wisdom and spiritual cleansing,” said Zariah, “Their wisdom is formed by their ability as hunters. They have various techniques informed by cunning and biology: they can sleep with one eye closed and the other open and alert; they can see even with most of their large body hidden underwater; they can detect faint pressure changes invisible to others; and they the ability to go into a state called unihemispheric sleep, in which one part of their brain goes to sleep, while the other is still awake.
They became symbols of healing thanks to their own body's capabilities. They can regrow limbs and are resistant to many poisons and diseases. Alligator blood is studied for its powerful antibiotic properties such as destroying HIV.
Eastern alligators are meeker than most others, and because of that, they are more associated with good fortune rather than—”
“Hold on, let me stop you there. You’re talking a lot about symbolism, does any of that actually affect the real world? He’s not gonna turn into alligator and gator all over me is he?”
“... as far as I know, no. It’s about the spirit—”
“Alright, whatever. Thank you for your time.”
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“When we sparred, he used his unique style of martial arts,” said Hannah.
“Let me guess, it’s called alligator style.”
“No, it’s called Vlpvtvlke.”
“What?”
“It means alligator!” she said with a smile.
“Of course it does. Continue”
“First of all, it mostly uses the legs for footwork while focusing on punches like in boxing though he sure can kick if he needs to. He’s really fast and flighty. I needed Electric Waltz just to keep up. Then there’s the hand game itself. He uses feints and jabs to prod your reactions then makes decisive strikes for maximum effect all while minimizing his own movement and fatigue.
How should I put this? Imagine you’re trying to swat away a swarm of mosquitoes. They’re biting you all over, and you’re just flailing trying to get them. Then you get hit by a car.” “Is this the part where you tell me he actually hit you with a car?” asked Garrick. Hannah opened her mouth a bit, then closed it with her thumb and looked to the side. “You know I use weapons, right? I also fly, actually, we can both fly, why are you doing hand-to-hand combat? How does he even hurt you with punches?”
“Martial arts is about more than punching. It’s about learning to understand the union of mind and body, for yourself and for others.”
“Dismissed, Vandimion.”
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“So, I’ve spoken to Hannah and Zariah about it, let me give you what I’ve compiled from their accounts,” said Garrick to WhiteOut. He pulled the file up in his mind. “Let’s see:
Wisdom; Cunning; Sleep with one eye and half a brain open; Swimming; Stealth; Alligator sense; Regeneration; Poison immunity; Speed; Technique.
Now this Immortal, does he match up with what they say? You’ve never seen under the mask. Could have the wrong guy.” WhiteOut leaned forward.
“Immortal has dismantled every target I’ve thrown him at in the short time I contracted. If we have the right guy, I advise you: don’t let him out of his cuffs and don’t let him leave your sight.”
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That was what they had to say about him. In their first meeting, Hannah even mentioned that he took a direct hit from her lightning when they were both young. He took their word for it that he must be skilled, and his knowledge of mutations was evident. Still, what Garrick saw was just a man. Resources, quantity, structure—advantages such as these are what define the outcome. With preparation, the outcome can be determined far in advance of any battle or war. Anyone looking at the situation could see that this fight was already over.
'If I’m as dangerous as you say, then it would be best to kill me.'
Mallory was sent back to his seat while the LittleBoy continued his showcase with the window screens. While most of the guests continued to be enamored with the presentation, a few had come to see the more unique exhibit available to them. Among them was Ross Izeal who had been invited to the occasion. They stood with their drinks just steps away from the guards.
“What are you doing here,” said Tyler, “Don’t you see that there is a dangerous criminal here?”
“I should be saying that to you,” said Ross, “This must be a misunderstanding.”
“No. They understand perfectly. I am a demon; if I am released, I will tear down their heavens, and their little dog too.”
“You know him?” asked the lady next to Ross.
“I know his father. The Deimos family has always lived up to their name, but I trusted it was for the better with the senior, but this one… miss I advise you to keep the exits in mind. For better or worse, nothing safe happens when this Deimos is at the center of attention.”
“You’re scaring her. Hush and enjoy the hors d’oeuvres. No harm will come to you. Not when heroes are here to protect you.”