WHO: Zeus [narrative] WHEN: Late Tuesday night WHERE: The Upper East Side, Manhattan WHAT: Daddy's home.
Zeus had already made the decision to return to New York when the news reports came in of what had been happening there. He pursed his lips in displease at the TV screen, glass of whiskey in hand as he muttered obscenities under his breath. Nyx, and it wasn't the first time she'd done this.
While the mortals panicked, Zeus was mostly annoyed that even had he been there, he couldn't really do anything about it. No, not quite correct. Zeus had no doubt he was stronger than Nyx - she was a forgotten relic like so many of them - but he had no legitimate leg to stand on if he attacked her. That didn't exactly stop him from doing such things, but sometimes he made him pause to consider.
This time it wouldn't be worth it. This time. But Nyx's actions threatened their existence, to expose them to a world far more advanced and cynical than their own age, and if she pulled this stunt again, Zeus decided right then that it would be the last time she ever did. This wasn't Ancient Greece - as much as Zeus lamented that fact - and she couldn't pull these sorts of stunts with impunity.
Zeus was finished with Chicago. It had been over a year that he'd been here and it had been a good stretch, but he was itching for proper news of the pantheon. The time away had cleared his head and now it was time to take control again.
His apartment at The Ansonia was exactly as he'd left it, three luxury floors undisturbed except for the cleaner who came in to keep it all in order in his absence. He walked out onto the balcony and looked up at the night sky, closing his eyes for a moment and focusing. A low roll of thunder crossed the sky, nothing dramatic, just a message to any who might take note.