Who: Atlas, Herakles, Alana, and Hephaestus What: A fight, then a battle Where: Unnamed Gym and then a deserted, junk-strewn clearing When: Tuesday, Feb. 16th, same as the rest Warnings: Ichor by the buckets.
... Well, that had gone swell. Feeling sorely defeated by his own self, Teddy picked up his own bag, passing her as he headed out the door and into the city. "Fucking fantastic," he grumbled quietly, "fucking charming. V must be off her rocker to think--"
He paused as, in his solo argument, he bumped into something. Something big. "Oh, sorry, man," he said to the person sitting down near him.
Atlas' only response was to look up at the man. Atlas frowned. There was something about this man he didn't like. Maybe it was just the perspective. Atlas didn't like looking up at people. He stood. It didn't help. The man was still taller than him. His frown deepened. It wasn't just the man's height. Something else, something deeper, tugged at Atlas' mind. Something about promises made and broken, about gold and girls. It was deeply unsettling. Atlas stared at the man, as if trying to find the cause of his discontent on his face.
Teddy had pushed past Alana to get out of the gym, and so she came behind him, actually looking up this time and not colliding with someone as she exited the building. She glanced at the two large men, feeling rather short. "Just remember, no fights without a ref boys," she mentioned, waiting for one or the other to move so she could actually get to her truck. They were kid of blocking her path here.
Atlas' head swiveled to look at Alana. "Right. No referee." Atlas was torn. Part of him wanted to fight. Part of him wanted to flee. And another part was screaming to be acknowledged. If Atlas was not all ready well acquainted with mental anguish, he would have found the situation overwhelming.
So he wasn't the only one torn. Part of Teddy did want to fight. Fighting was great! And Alana had asked him to. It was easy enough to say no before seeing the guy... but seeing him now, looking at him and seeing that he was clearly a creature of fitness that even he could admire, and his pride sang. What harm was there? Maybe Alana would be impressed, coaxed his wounded vanity. Chicks like masculinity. Right?
"Do you know the rules of a fair fight?" he asked, tone deadly serious as he stared down at the fellow.
"Rules are what we make 'em, but if you two are gonna wrestle or brawl or what the fuck have you, we need someplace ta do it that ain' gonna get the cops called," Alana put in, bringing up the point that Teddy himself have mentioned earlier. She glanced at both the men, waiting for the reaction.
Atlas' gaze returned to the tall man's face. "Where?" he almost growled. He wanted to fight this man, and he would not resist that urge. But his training, the only thing holding his mind together, demanded that he do it right.
Teddy glanced to Alana then back to the man. He hadn't answered his question. "No hitting below the belt. No blood. No kicking, biting, none of that nonsense. Or you'll be paying for it." There, that said. "Follow me," he ordered, and began to walk off down the street. "I know a lot."
"The no biting and no bleedin' being the biggest of the deal there," Alana mentioned in an undertone, and gestured for the Wall to follow the Giant as he lead the way. She was curious to see how this would play out, especially after all the fuss Teddy had made. Really, did he think that she was just gonna set him up with some random weak assed jock wanna be? Now he seemed ready to fight, and Alana planned to be on hand with the cell phone ready to call for medical aid. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
Atlas scowled. "I know the rules," he said almost petulantly. The rule against kicking irritated him for a brief moment before it was washed away in the tide of swirling emotions that raged through Atlas' mind. It was a raging maelstrom in what once had been a placid ocean, and something was straining to be released from the depths.
Leading the weird little party, the god walked out to an empty lot. The fences were high as was the grass, a few fridges and cars were scattered about leaving a near ring in the center. Not exactly a professional ring, but it worked well enough. Teddy moved to stand in the center, and put down his gym bag, facing the new man. Who was he? Something about him did seem too familiar. Probably just a member of the gym at some point... But now, it didn't matter.
Atlas looked around the makeshift ring. It seemed he was moving further and further away from the FUC cage. But it did not trouble him. The upcoming fight was slowly taking over all of his focus, driving out all else. Almost.
"Referee?" Atlas grumbled, looking for the errant official.
"Looks like that would be me," Alana announced, dropping her bag off to the side, then moving to climb on top of one of the broken down cars as a place well out of the way. There was no chance she was gonna allow herself to be within strike zone, and she was nimble enough that from where she stood on the cars hood, she could back off and jump down the other side to safety. "How we doin' rounds or whatever?" she asked as she took up her spot, looking at both of them. "Or am I just yelling foul if one of ya decides ta go dirty?"
"One round. Whoever goes down, goes down," Teddy said simply. His normally jovial face was flat and serious. "Call out if someone does something dirty." And his tone said it certainly wouldn't come from him.
Atlas didn't respond to the implied slight. The tempest roaring in his mind was drowning out all else, and only the fight would ease its constant roar. He waited silently for the signal to start.
"Alright, you both know the rules then. First to go down, lost for the round, so stay standin'. Take your stance. On my mark." She glanced between both of them, noting the deep seriousness and tension, and wondering if maybe this was a bad idea. "Three..." She paused, watching how they responded. "Two..." Once she gave the final mark, she knew it would be too late to go back. "One. Fight!"
And Herakles lunged. His full strength not needed, he merely looked to grab onto the man, seeking to flip him over before he could get a hit in.
Atlas desperately wished he could sidestep and then kick his charging opponent in the stomach or leg, sending him sprawling, but he was constrained by the rules. Instead, he ducked back, seeking to avoid the man's grasping arms, and punched him in the face. It was only a jab, and, despite a voice crying out in his head to pour everything he had into it, Atlas kept his full strength out of it. He sought only to frustrate his opponent's clinching attempt.
Herk staggered back a bit. That... that hurt. He paused for a second in shock before he had control again, and this time reached out with one arm. His fist coiled into the man's shirt, pulling him just close enough for Herk to return the favor with a solid fist in the kisser.
Atlas' vision blurred a moment. That was different. Atlas had never been punched like that before. His training had taught him the various pressures and strengths at which holds and strikes were applied. This matched none of them. The desperate voice in his head urged him to let his strength have free reign. And Atlas listened. His opponent had pulled him in close, so he sought to free himself. Taking a step back, Atlas landed a solid body blow into his opponent's ribs below the arm that was holding on to Atlas' shirt.
Alana cringed from her place up on the car, and tried to watch the fight carefully. Well, she was right in that they seemed better suited to each other, but she hadn't expected this. How could someone be the actual match in strength to Herakles? It just, wasn't possible. The thought started to perculate in her head as she continued to watch, looking for any blows that were illegal. And hope that the Wall didn't draw blood from the Giant. .... That would be bad.
A gasp burst out of the man-god as all the air left his lungs. His world spinned for a moment, both literally and figuratively. He... he'd hit him hard. In his startled state, he released the man and stepped backward, falling into a defensive crouch as he recovered himself. This was actually going to be tougher than he'd first imagined.
Atlas pressed his advantage, advancing on his retreating opponent. Advancing was always risky, but Atlas felt compelled to press on. Feinting a cross with his left, Atlas instead struck with a hook with his right, driving his fist toward his opponent's temple.
Herk fell back, and felt his soul chill... something was very wet along his forehead. Oh gods. He'd been hit so hard, the skin split. His eyes went wide and he immediately ducked the next punch and hit the man in the chest. He didn't hold back this time, and punched his chest with enough force to at least send him flying back a few feet if not more. He had to get the man down before he killed him.
Atlas grunted and took a step back. That was the hardest he'd been hit in... A memory of the cries of the wounded and dying filled his mind, then slipped away... a long time. He looked to the referee. "No blood," he said, gesturing with his chin to his opponent's forehead. "What now?" Atlas kept his eyes on his wounded opponent, wary for counterattack.
"Holy Shit!" Alana jumped down from the car. "Break apart!" she yelled, wanting to make sure there was distance between them, so that no one would end up dead. "Teddy, grab the first aid kit from my bag for yourself and don't get blood on anythin'." She stopped a few steps from the other, frowning as she looked down at him. "You didn't get any on ya, right?" Of course he didn't. If he had, he'd be dead. And that would be very, very bad for all around.
Atlas looked at his hand. There were little black flecks of wetness on it, just like those oozing from the cut on his opponent's head. "I did," Atlas said simply, wiping his hand on his shirt absently. He looked at his opponent and at the referee. The fight seemed to have been stopped. "I won." Atlas said just as simply.
"I wouldn't be sure anyone fuckin' won when the battle was between two fuckin' gods!" Alana groaned and turned away, looking like she was seriously in need of a punching bag herself. What was it about her that seemed to just draw the immortals in? She turned back to face the two, wondering what exactly the next step would be.
Teddy looked up from the bag between the two, clearly confused. "What's goin' on?" he asked, pressing a cloth to his head. He could already feel his face swelling up a bit.
"Look at his shirt," Alana groaned to Teddy, pointing at the ichor that was there. "It got on his hand..." Then again, maybe ichor didn't kill instantly? Maybe it was a slow poison... If there were the case, Alana had probably made a tiny mistake. Though the guy would still end up dead.
The god's heart came to a stop and his first reaction was, with the cloth still pressed to his head, pick up Alana and put her farther away before turning to look at the other man. He was... who, though? His eyes narrowed in some suspicion. He didn't recognize him. Was he even part of the Family?
Atlas' brow furrowed in confusion. He had been splattered with blood plenty of times. All it resulted in was ref stoppage of the bout and victory. But Alana and his opponent were reacting very oddly. Atlas sat upon one of the larger pieces of junk and observed quietly.
Alana leaning as far from Teddy as she could as he moved her, and seemed inclined to keep her distance from both of them at the moment. Well, at least some. She noted the confusion on the Wall's face and gestured once more to his shirt. "Ichor. Immortal blood. Shit that kills mortal's dead." She raised her eyes to meet his. "You're a fuckin' immortal too, aren't you?"
Atlas shrugged. Something about what she said caused thoughts to creep into the edges of his mind, but it was nothing he could verbalize or even identify. "I endure," he said suddenly. Atlas sat up, surprise clear on his features. He hadn't meant to say that. Or anything, really. The words had simply sprung to his lips unbidden. He wondered what they meant.
... What?
Herk took a step back, looking the man over. "Oh, Fates preserve us," he murmured. A Titan. A Titan.
Okay, see, Herakles being freaked out? Not a good sign for the mortal. "I don't think the Fates give much of a shit, Teddy boy," Alana muttered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cell. Who to call for back up... At least this other god wasn't attacking them. She frowned slightly as she watched him. "Who are you?"
"Natal Maltose." The name came out automatically, without the need for thought. Any other identity Atlas had had had been lost long ago, and now Atlas only had one name, Natal Maltose. But somewhere deep in his mind, a voice was still screaming for recognition, but Atlas could not hear it. Not yet.
"[Perhaps that is what you call yourself now,]" said the other man -- the other god, actually. He moved to put himself between the Titan and Alana. Just in case. "[Tell me your real name.]"
"Natal Maltose," came the reply again. Atlas didn't even notice that the language spoken to him had changed. "Who are you?" He asked naturally, out of simple curiosity.
"Um, Giant? I don't think he's gonna jump up and bite," Alana mentioned, shifting so that she could still see the unknown god. She considered for a moment, trying to think of a god that most people didn't immediately hate. ... Sadly, most had at least one enemy. "Natal, what color is your blood?"
Atlas shrugged again. "I don't know." He hadn't seen his blood in... well, he didn't remember. He hadn't been hurt in the FUC. He hadn't injured himself punching his way through the museum. He hadn't bled underwater. He hadn't-- Atlas winced as his thoughts slammed into the chaos of his mind full force. Anything before his meeting with the angel and long trek through the murky depths of the Atlantic Ocean was still a swirling mass of confusion and pain.
"You don't know that," grunted Teddy to Alana. He was still eying the man warily. A Greek god, he could understand. Welcome, even. But this was... a Titan. There were both good and bad ones. This one, he was pretty sure now, he knew. And he didn't know if he still hated him for one act of trickery or not. "Alana, back up."
"Tell me who I'm callin' then." Zeus? Possible. He'd want to know that there was another god about, but he'd probably go even more into protective mode then Teddy was, and she didn't want to be forced to leave. So, who else? She went through a quick mental inventory and made a choice without waiting for Teddy to answer her question. The contact number was looked up and 'send' hit as she watched the other two. "Never mind," she muttered. Time to answer the important phone call Hephaestus. I got a possible mystery for ya.
Who? Teddy didn't know. But when she said never mind, he forgot it, and gave her a push towards the gate. Good grief, women. Once he was sure she was safely out of reach, he stepped back towards the other god, face calm but serious. "[Tell me your name again. Your true name.]"
Atlas' face remained impassive. "Natal Maltose." It was the only answer he had. "[Who are you?]" His tone didn't change, and he didn't even realize that now he was speaking a different language as well.
Alana listened to her phone as it started to ring, half her attention on the scene before her and properly staying within the gate, and part to waiting for an answer. She didn't know what was being said, but it was sounding like the same, or nearly the same, language. And like what the Old Man swore in when he didn't realize she could hear him. So, old Greek? Fun. She frowned as she continued to watch.
Teddy paused for thought, then, "[... Herakles.]"
In the back of Atlas' mind, something snapped. A voice crowed in triumph and then was silent. "[Then we have unfinished business,]" Atlas said matter-of-factly, rising once again to his feet and assuming his fighting stance. Without holding back, he drove his fist into Herakles' abdomen.
"Holy fuck!" Alana jumped back, nearly dropping her cell phone. Why the hell wasn't he picking up? Two more rings and if that failed, she was calling someone else. Herakles is about to get his ass kicked and you can't even answer a fucking phone? Smooth Hephaestus. She looked around her and moved to a spot at the gate. Checking it, she made sure that it was closed, to prevent any random by standers from getting in. Really, no need to risk stangers lives.
He didn't hold back that time. Herk could feel it, from the way he immediately felt a rib snap under the blow. But rather than fall to it, he sturdied himself and threw a punch of his own. It connected with Atlas' chin with a cruel upper hook. And despite the danger he knew Alana, and even himself he was in, part of him smiled. This would be interesting.
Atlas endured the blow. He could taste blood. Ichor. Whatever it was called, it was a familiar taste. It brought back memories of battles, dim though those memories were. He rushed forward, grabbing at Herakles' legs for a double leg takedown. Driving his legs forcefully forward, Atlas bore Herakles to the ground.
Atlas smiled. "[There, do you feel the weight]?" He leaned on Herakles' broken rib. "[Do you feel the pain?]" Atlas was working on half remembered memories and instinct, but he knew that this felt good. It felt satisfying.
Hephaestus turned from his workbench, frowning. He hated being interrupted, but he avoided turning off his handsets unless he absolutely needed peace and quiet. Picking up his phone, he saw that it was Alana calling. That was a somewhat pleasant surprise.
Vadimas smiled as he answered the phone. "Hello, Alana. How are things?" Hephaestus wondered if she was calling to complain about his father.
"Oh, just fuckin' dandy if I don't die of ichor posionin' in the next five minutes. 'Course, if the ichor'll come from Teddy or the guy who's tryin' ta make his ass grass, can't really tell at the moment." She moved to put a car between herself and the fighters, watching at least partly through a window. "Thought ya might wanna come down with a video camera and tape it all." Sarcasm in stress situations? That wasn't anything new for Alana. Right.
"What?" Hephaestus was rarely at loss, but Alana's words caught him completely by surprise. "Someone is attacking Teddy? Where are you?" Hephaestus would know himself in a few seconds, but he was all ready heading to the door. The sooner he knew where to go, the sooner he and Kingbreaker could defuse the situation.
Alana rattled off the address. "It's an empty lot, tall fence, junked up cars, the normal shit. Can't really tell ya who the attacker is, but they seem ta be puttin' the Giant inta a bit of pain, and I figured someone might wanna know where ta find bodies before the cops do." She glanced to the gate, trying to see how clear of a shot she had to the exit. Hopefully no one would get crious and try to take a look.
If the attacker was giving Herakles a fight, there was a limited number of choices of who he could be. "Be careful. Try to steer clear of them until I can get there. If it gets too crazy, get out of there." Hephaestus wasn't exactly sure what even he could do if Herakles was tearing it up with someone on the same level, but he had a better chance than Alana at intervening and living to tell the tale. He hopped into his roadster and sped off into traffic.
"Really? Cause I was thinkin' of jumpin' right between 'em and hopin' my cute ass would make 'em stop." She rolled her eyes, and tried to calm down. "I'll see ya when you get here," she answered before clicking the phone off.
Hephaestus rolled his eyes as the connection slicked off. Even caught in deadly peril, Alana was as prickly as ever. Hephaestus floored the accelerator. He had to get there as soon as he could. Alana's cute ass wouldn't hold them off forever.
While Alana was having a delightful chat, Herakles the great was getting his ass handed to him. He could only thank his lucky stars -- or even thank the stars he was seeing now -- that he was a god now. Otherwise, he had a strong feeling he'd be very dead. Ichor bubbled up in his throat and came up in a cough. Just enough for him to spit in the Titan's eye and roll away once the elder immortal was distracted, back up to his feet.
Atlas snarled. "[Trickery! I will not have it again!]" He wiped at his eye, trying to clear it of spittle and ichor. He could see only a fuzzy image of Herakles. It was enough. Leaping from the dirt, Atlas drove his head into Herakles' stomach, hoping to offset the godling's newfound footing.
"[Says the one who aimed to trick me first!]" Herakles snarled. Seeing the man coming for him, Herakles stood his ground and caught him head on. The two now stood like an old statue of wrestling, heads pressed close while both strived to topple the other. Herakles could feel his shoes grinding down against the soil and grass. No! He had to stand fast! A thought of the Titan turning his rage on the mortal woman, and Herakles felt his blood boil. He shoved.
Debris crumpled and twisted as Atlas crashed into it. "[You owed me!]" Atlas grabbed one of the pieces of rubble that made up the edge of the ring and heaved it, sending a half of a car flying towards Herakles.
Herakles dodged, but only barely; he winced as metal swung so fast by him, it cut through his upper arm like a knife through cheese. "[That time is past!]" he howled back. "[Do you really hold on to such lies to yourself, Atlas?!]"
Atlas' scowl deepened. "[Do not speak to me of lies!]" Seeing his success, Atlas picked up and hurled another car at Herakles. However, this time Atlas followed it, closing in on his opponent.
Teddy ducked, but it only played into his opponent's hand. He fell hard to the ground, pinned, when Atlas caught him in the chest. He struggled, but it was like a normal person trying to push off a boulder. That is, damned near impossible. "[We do not have to do this!]"
Atlas hesitated for the briefest of moments before responding. "[Yes we do, son of Zeus.]" Atlas brought his arm back to strike when, suddenly, part of his abdomen disappeared in a fine spray of ichor and a sound like thunder split the air. Atlas looked at the wound in surprise. He tried to speak, but only ichor emerged from his lips, dripping down onto Herakles. Atlas struggled to complete his punch, but he faded into unconsciousness, ichor pooling in the grass.
Hephaestus kept his coil gun pointed at the fallen Atlas. "Well, this is certainly unexpected. Where's Alana?" Hephaestus took quick glances around the area, not willing to take his eyes off Atlas for too long.
"Over here..." Alana stood from behind a car, and waved an arm. Her eyes locked on the mess that was the unconscious immortal, and her balance waver for a step. Ugh. That, was not a pretty sight. She'd see animal guts before and the like, no problem with that, but this... was just a trifle different. She broke her eyes away to glance to Hephaestus trying to come up with some witty reply. "... Thanks for comin'." She could be witty later.
With a grunt, Herakles shoved the Titan off of him, rolling over to his side to catch his breath. He could feel broken bones and ripped skin. The ground would have to be burned and reburied, he knew that much. Oh gods... how long had it been since he'd felt this sort of pain? He groaned quietly, and hoped nobody heard.
Hephaestus waved at Alana as he headed over to the battleground. He nudged Atlas with his foot, turning him over. "I was looking for this one. I didn't expect to find him here, engaged in epic battle with Teddy here." Hephaestus holstered his coil gun. "Do you know who he is? Who he really is?" Not that there were too many choices if he pushed Herakles to the limit.
The mortal shook her head and picked her way closer, pausing a distance away so she wouldn't risk the black ichor. Swallowing and taking a breath, she seemed to get past the sight, and was wondering if he somehow was going to die. "Only name I ever got was Natal Maltose. I called him the Wall, but I only ran inta him taday. Literally." She glanced at Teddy, seeing he seemed to be alive, then to Hephaestus. "Did you kill him?"
Hephaestus all ready knew that name, and it wasn't the one he wanted. "No, I didn't kill him. He seems to be made of sterner stuff than that." The "man" Hephaestus had shot had all ready stopped bleeding, and his breathing, while shallow, was steady. Hephaestus looked over to Herakles. "[Do you know who he is?]" Hephaestus idly wondered if Herakles was capable of more than just lying there and bleeding at the moment, but felt it prudent to hold his tongue.
Well, he could talk. "Atlas," he grunted. Slowly, he began to tenderly push himself up, holding a hand over his side where the rib was. "[The Enduring.]"
Hephaestus' eyes widened. "Shit." It was a monumental understatement of his feelings. Immediate action was needed. "If you think you can clean yourself up enough to be safe around mortals, get Alana out of here. I have some calls to make." Hephaestus would spare Herakles the fact that he was of no use to Hephaestus all busted up.
Nodding, Teddy stood to his wobbly feet. "Come on, 'Lana," he grunted. "I think I'll need a ride home... Can't drive like this."
"No offense Giant, but I'm gonna make ya ride in the back of the truck. Easier ta clean out." She started to pick a path out of the yard, grabbing her bag after checking that it was ichor free, and glanced back toward Heph. "I've got some spare tarps and shit I use sometimes, but they can be junked and thrown away. You need or want?"
Heph didn't particularly need or want the tarps, but with this amount of ichor, every precaution should be taken. "Sure." Hephaestus took the tarps from Alana and helped Herakles climb into the back of the truck. As he watched Alana's truck disappear into traffic, he dropped the tarps to the ground and took out his phone. Nudging the still unconscious Titan with his foot, Hephaestus sighed. Days like this made him regret coming to Miami. Atlas was too great a threat to ignore. Hephaestus needed help.
Summary:What starts out as an innocent, jealousy-fueled bout between Teddy and Natal turns into a cruel, hate-fueld battle between Herakles and Atlas. Alana is caught in the middle, which is appropriate as the whole thing is her fault, anyway.