Who: Hephaestus/Vadimas Lugosi and Atlas/Natal Maltose What: Atlas awakes! Where: Hephaestus' Miami mansion/gaol. When: IMMEDIATELY after Hephaestus and Hades' scene, Sunday 3/22 Warnings: None
Hephaestus rubbed his eyes, taking off his monitoring glasses and setting them aside now that he was back in his bunker. He punched a few commands into the console, pulling up the security footage of his recent conversation with Hades. His uncle had been hiding something. And Hephaestus was determined to find some hint as to what it was--
***REE-URR***REE-URR***REE-URR***
The sudden sounding of the klaxon froze Hephaestus in place for a moment. That was not a good sound. His eyes darted to Atlas through the security glass. The Titan was still. To anyone who hadn't spent weeks watching him without break, he still looked asleep. But to Hephaestus, the stillness was a huge red flag. He looked at the monitor. Brain wave scans showed that Atlas was indeed awake.
Natal Maltose did not remember where he was. He did not remember much of anything at all. The face of a beautiful woman. A bout with a strong opponent. Pain. Terror. Nothingness. These were what he remembered. He reflexively reached a hand up to wipe his face. Or tried to. His hand was bound at his side. Atlas scowled mightily. He hated being bound! With a roar he wrenched mightily at his fetters, finding all his limbs bound similarly. That they did not break immediately only fueled his towering rage.
Hephaestus hesitated in indecision. The autocannons were primed to turn Atlas into paste, but Hephaestus wasn't sure this was a good idea, even if it was the simplest and carried the least risk. No. Hephaestus was going to go for another "calculated precaution."
Having finally decided on a course of action, Hephaestus wasted no time in executing it. "Release the prisoner's chains," Hephaestus said evenly, his eyes never leaving Atlas. The computer silently complied with his command. "Keep autocannons primed but do not fire until I give the command. All girls fall back to support positions. DO not approach Atlas. Repeat, do not approach!" Hephaestus didn't think he could survive a direct physical altercation with Atlas. He would not let the girls get close enough to have line of sight.
Atlas, surprised by the sudden release of his chains, could not arrest his struggles fast enough and tumbled from his bed to the floor. Righting himself, Atlas looked quizzically at the three strange objects hanging from the ceiling. They followed his every move, like they were watching him. Atlas amused himself by trying to evade their tireless gaze, but soon grew tired of the game when it became obvious he could not win it. Forgetting about the strange ceiling devices, Atlas cast his gaze around the room. He was hungry. Very hungry.
Hephaestus let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Atlas had calmed immediately after being freed, just as Hephaestus had hoped. Now to push his luck a little bit more.
He depressed a small button on his console. "Hello there." A cautious start.
Atlas turned and looked at the man behind the glass. A memory flitted through his mind, but was gone.
"I'm hungry," Atlas said simply.
Hephaestus almost laughed. This was going better than he had hoped. But he couldn't allow himself to be distracted by mirth.
Licking his lips to stifle his chuckles, Hephaestus continued. "I'll have some food brought to you. Do you mind if I ask you some questions first?"
Atlas frowned. Then, he shrugged and grunted.
Hephaestus took that to mean Atlas didn't mind.
"Okay. Do you know where you are?" Best to start simple.
Atlas looked around the small room. Memories bubbled under the surface, but remained elusive.
"No."
It was Hephaestus' turn to frown. Atlas should remember where he was. Or, at least that he had been there before. Maybe whatever mental struggle he had endured had given him a case of mild amnesia.
"Do you know who I am?" Hephaestus waited for the answer. It was a risky question. Hephaestus was fairly sure Atlas hadn't seen who shot him, but if he did, Hephaestus was courting another dangerous freak out.
Atlas looked at the man behind the glass intently. Something about this situation seemed familiar, like it had all happened before.
"No," Atlas answered. "But I remember you." Atlas peered at the man, his face lacking any discernible expression.
Hephaestus forced himself not to recoil from Atlas' unwavering gaze. He would not show weakness in front of a Titan. Even a seemingly docile one.
"That's good," Hephaestus said, trying his best to smile encouragingly. "Well, my name is Vadimas Lugosi. What's yours?" Hephaestus tried to keep the tone jovial, despite the tense circumstances.
"Natal Maltose." Atlas felt a great deal of comfort from simply saying those words. If only he wasn't so hungry. "I'm hungry." Atlas was growing impatient.
Hephaestus did not want Atlas getting agitated, especially since it seemed that he had once again assumed his harmless mortal persona.
"I'll get you something right away." No way was he going to call in the girls for food. He slipped on his monitor glasses, which gave him an almost disorienting double image of Atlas. "Just stay right here, okay?" Not that Atlas had a choice, but Hephaestus didn't want him to try and go anywhere. Hephaestus walked quickly from the room, not wanting to leave Atlas alone for too long.
As soon as Hephaestus was out of his sight, Atlas forgot about him. He went back to examining the strange objects coming from the ceiling. He found a new game. Every time he tried to grab the things, they moved out of his grasp with a strange whirring noise. He liked that noise and making the things dance the way he wanted. He hadn't even bored of it by the time his food arrived.
Hephaestus came back with his arms loaded with fruit, cold cuts, and bread. Something on the plate should sate Atlas, unless his palate was more refined than his vocabulary. Now for the tricky part. Hephaestus opened the door to Atlas' cell cautiously, trying not to startle him. With his arms full, Hephaestus could not easily reach his weapons. He was very vulnerable, and he knew it.
"Here you are. I didn't know what you liked, so I brought an assortment." Hephaestus put the tray on the bed, the cell lacking any sort of table. He watched Atlas intently, his hands resting casually near where his weapons were secretly holstered.
Atlas, for his part, paid Hephaestus no mind. He was fixated on the food. He shoved handfuls into his mouth, heedless of what he was grabbing. Normally, even his manners were better than this, but he was starving after so many weeks asleep.
Hephaestus watched Atlas as he ate. The Titan was focused on his meal to the exclusion of all else. Hephaestus found Atlas to be an enigma. He seemed torn between who he was and who he had become. Hephaestus wondered what could have happened to bring about such a radical, if not necessarily permanent, change. Atlas had proven he could be an immense threat to the Olympians, but Natal Maltose could be an incredible boon. If Hephaestus could gain his friendship, perhaps he could ease Atlas away from his hatred of the Olympians.
Hephaestus wasn't sure how he would do that, exactly, but he was sure of one thing. He needed to keep his family far away from Natal Maltose. No good would come from their interaction with Atlas. They would, knowingly or unknowingly,antagonize Atlas, and that would lead to someone dying. No, Hephaestus would bear this burden on his own. It was for the best.
Summary: Hephaestus talks with Atlas, but finds only Natal Maltose. This is a good thing.