The dull thuds of fists striking flesh was like a lullaby and humming along to the nonsensical song, Adrestia disassembled the weaponry she and her brothers had borrowed from the Society outpost. The scent of gun oil perfumed the air as she methodically reworked each to her own specifications, the hangar like space behind her father's gymnasium echoing with the occasional shout or cry of agony the perfect spot for the goddess to unwind and organize her thoughts. Laying aside a snub nosed revolver, a swell in sound and a slight draft spoke of the arrival of one or both of her brothers. Only Ares or her brothers wouldn't bother to knock when she had so many weapons at hand.
Only her father or brothers would dare enter at all.