Vadimas Lugosi (hammerfall) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2011-03-12 22:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | dante lot, hades, hephaestus, vadimas lugosi |
Who: Hephaestus & Hades
What: Triage
Where: Stately Lugosi Manor
When: February 28th, the wee hours.
Warnings: Blood?
Hephaestus sat at his workstation. The chronometer read 0326, but it was ignored as Hephaestus cycled through endless pages of spreadsheets, timetables, formulae, and the other components of the endless paper trail he and his company created. It was a pitfall of the modern age that had raised Hephaestus to such great heights. Creation did not begin and end with the creator. There was a whole world of corporate lawyers, executives, marketers. It was a bureaucracy fractal. From afar, it was almost beautiful in its complexity. However, the closer one got, the more one found themselves drawn into its endless grip.
It was all work he could delegate to others, he supposed absently. He had a company full of assistants at his disposal. They could be made to work for their generous salaries and robust benefits packages. The girls would be more than happy to help lighten his load, even were he to rouse them from their sleep cycles. But no one, not the professional assistants at VTS with their years of experience nor the girls with their computer brains could handle it quite as efficiently as he. It was an arrogant thought, but an honest one.
The clacking of keys filled the air as he chewed through the endless digital stack of paperwork. He had scheduled enough time to handle it while the rest of the world slept. When he finished it would be time for a light breakfast eaten under protest and then on to more honest work. Another average day in the life of Vadimas Lugosi.
The clanking of keys was not the only thing that filled the air.
The very gates of Hell with their adamentine bars clanked and rattled into existence in one of the bedrooms of Vadimas’ house. Instinctively, Hades remembered the room as a sanctuary when his nephew had brought him to the house in his amnesia. Now he sought out that sanctuary again as Cerberus half-chucked him through the gates onto the bed. The ceiling of the room groaned as the three-headed beast followed after but the beginning of he sound at least caused the beast to shrink down to the size of a three headed great dane.
Hades curled up on the bed, the armor his nephew had given him stained black, much like his hands, face and hair were from his ichor. The beast leapt onto the bed and laid down beside its master, howling loudly.
The gates of Hell then slammed shut and disappeared from whence they came.
From where he sat, Hephaestus could not hear the baying of the hellhound. Even if the mournful howl could reach his ears, it would be drowned out by the alarm klaxxons ringing throughout the workshop.
*** INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER PRESENT IN BEDROOM 1! ICHOR DETECTED. INTRUDER IDENTITY CONFIRMED. INTRUDER RECOGNIZED AS HADES!***
“[Fuck!]”
Before the curse was even out of his mouth, Hephaestus was racing up the stairs.
“Girls, Code Black in Bedroom 1,” Hephaestus called, relying on his communications system to get his commands to the girls. It was unlikely they were still asleep after the blaring alarms.
“Hades has appeared,” Hephaestus continued, “Injuries probable.” Hephaestus let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe if he was lucky, Hades would still remember who he was this time.
Having surmounted the stairs, Hephaestus crashed through the bedroom door. The girls were close behind. Despite being clad only in their nightclothes and robes, the Code Black command meant they were all business. Hephaestus surveyed the scene. The decor of the room was a total loss. Cerberus was still howling his fool animal head off. And Hades was as Hephaestus had come to expect seeing him, grievously injured.
“What happened!?” Hephaestus couldn’t hold back the question as the girls moved past him to start clearing the room.
Hades opened his eyes at the sound of Hephaestus’s voice. So he had made it safely out of Hell after all. He took a labored breath and then reached over to grab the scruff of the hellhound’s neck. “[Silence now, Cerberus. Silence now. Rest.]”
The hellhound quieted and then jumped off the bed. Taking a few limped steps, it laid down on the floor, one of its heads focused on its master and the other two on Hephaestus and his girls.
Hades pulled himself to sitting, using the headboard of the bed to assist his effort. What happened? “[I had been scouting, Nephew. How I ended up trying to fight off an army, I don’t quite know...]”
“[That’s enough, Uncle,]” Hephaestus said soothingly, “[I simply wanted to make sure you could talk.]”
Hephaestus knelt near the bed. He reached underneath and pulled out what appeared to be an average box. Of course, considering whose house it was in, it was anything but. Hephaestus opened the top of the box and keyed in a command on a series of hidden buttons. With a distinct and trademarked sound bite, the box then transformed into a small, mobile gurney with treads instead of wheels and one of Hephaestus’ medical scanners mounted near the front.
Hephaestus then motioned Caiera over. Between the two of them, they easily hefted Hades onto the gurney. Moving an injured man without proper stabilization is rarely a good idea, but Hades’ body could take more punishment than that of a normal man. Caiera turned her attention to the ruined bed, and Hephaestus tapped a few more commands into the gurney’s keypad.
“[Let’s see if we can’t find a more comfortable place for you to recuperate, Uncle].” Hephaestus said with a smirk. The gurney started rolling out towards the elevator with Hephaestus in tow. With a muted ding, the elevator doors parted. The gurney rolled into the elevator and Hephaestus pressed an unmarked portion of the wall beneath the traditional elevator buttons. A light illuminated the hidden button he had pressed, revealing they were headed to his deepest sub-basement. “[I’ve set up special accommodations since the last time I had to nurse you back to health.]”
The elevator hummed to life and began its descent into the depths of the earth.
“[Special accommodations? Seems coming to you was even a better idea than I thought,]” Hades replied quietly, albeit loud enough to be heard over the sound of the tank threads moving along the floor and the ding of the elevator. His eyes slipped shut as he could instinctively feel descending beneath the surface of the earth, the depths offering a comfort to his wearied, ichor-stained body.
“[At least I remember who am I this time...]” he added in a bit of dark humor.
“[At least,]” Hephaestus said, his voice tight. “[I do not want to go through that again.]” Hephaestus could and would endure worse than the scathing words of his family to help his uncle, but he would also avoid such an outcome wherever necessary.
The elevator came to a stop. The doors opened automatically, and the elevator was inundated with the thrumming of the various machines that ran and powered Hephaestus workshops. The robotic gurney trundled out into the din with Hephaestus in tow. They passed through narrow pathways between boilers and pumps until they came to a single door at the far end of the floor. Hephaestus moved to the door, edging around the gurney.
“[Our tastes are similar enough that preparing this room was no great task,]” Hephaestus said modestly, “[however, I’ve added one bit of furniture just for you. I hope you like it.]”
Hephaestus opened the door. The room was neutral in color and sparsely furnished. A chair, a chest of drawers, a television. A door on the adjacent wall lead to a small bathroom. The focus of the room, however, was the bed that dominated. It wasn’t so much a bed as it was an impossibly huge slab of black diamond. Pillows and folded blankets rested atop it.
Hephaestus knocked the dressings to the floor. Hades would only ruin them in his state. The robot gurney moved parallel to the bed and, with surprising gentleness, lifted Hades and placed him upon the slab.
“[It may not be comfortable, Uncle,]” Hephaestus apologized, “[but we’ll worry about that once your wounds close.]” Hephaestus looked over the read outs from his medical scanner, seeking to understand the true extent of his uncle’s horrific-looking injuries.
“[I’ve laid on worse...]” Hades muttered as he stretched out along the black diamond slab. Intellectually, he knew it was a terrible idea. It caused a wave of pain to shoot right through his nerves and as battered muscles, fractured bones and torn skin was forced to move but divine instinct moved him. His body disagreed with the fact that he had to move it but the new pain subsided as quickly as it came as he managed to lay across more of the precious gem bed.
Only one of his hands reached out beyond the confines of the bed and only to rest upon the top of one of Cerberus’ three heads to ease the hellhound as it kept careful watch over him. Normally, he would be careful not to show any head any particularity but right not, simply remembering the beast was there was the best he could offer.
Instead, Hades turned his eyes to his nephew, “[You did this all for me?]”
“[I made an orihalcum prosthetic brain for Zeus, and I didn’t even like him,]” Hephaestus said neutrally, “[This is the least I could do.]” Hephaestus wanted to say more, but couldn’t articulate what he wanted to tell the man who, had the Fates been a little kinder to either of them, would be his father rather than his uncle. Besides, Hades didn’t need his emotional baggage at the moment. He had more pressing concerns, like surviving.
“[After all,]” Hephaestus continued with forced mirth, “[I said I would be there whenever you needed me. That didn’t just extend to the times you asked me to be there.]”
Hephaestus poured over the results as they came in from his medical scanner. As expected, Hades’ body was riddled with injuries in various stages of healing over. It was enough to drive a human doctor, or forensic anthropologist, to drink. But Hephaestus merely noted that the sheer amount of ichor was obscuring the severity of his uncle’s wounds. He had more than enough experience with injured Olympians to know that the average member of his family was like a Tardis filled with ichor. Death from blood loss was hardly a concern.
What was a concern was the wound on Hades’ right leg. Whatever had caused his other wounds to heal at a super-accelerated work had obviously not been in effect for his leg. While Hades was in no real danger from the wound, it and his other suppurating injuries would make him a danger to Hephaestus’ decor and any mortals who happened by.
“Jarella,” Hephaestus called to the empty room, “How goes the clean up?”
“Code Black Protocols nearing completion, Hephaestus,” came the reply through hidden speakers.
“Leave the rest to Caiera and Betty,” Hephaestus commanded. “Come to sub-basement triage for further Code Black support.”
“As you wish, Hephaestus,” came calm answer.
“[We’ll have your wound treated in a moment, Uncle,]” Hephaestus said, turning to Hades. “[Do you want to call anyone to let them know where you are?]” Hephaestus paused, then continued, “[Is there anyone you don’t want me to call?]” Hephaestus was beginning to understand how his uncle operated, if not why.
Even though Hades been in Miami for a number of years now, surrounded by family members who adored him and even fought over him at times... it was still in his mental default to be amazed and taken back when someone bothered to show even the meagerness of consideration for him. Now he was laying on an impossibly large diamond bed deep within the earth in a specially prepared room for him. It was a further consolation to his soul.
If only that consolation would extend to his battered body, he would be set, he decided.
“[Thank you, Nephew...]” Hades let out deep breath as he tried to relax. He knew keeping his body tense was only making it worse on him, but settling his body, especially his right leg only seemed to make it hurt more in the short term. But now he had other things to consider... like who he should call and what to say. There were reasons he had chosen Hephaestus’ house to escape to when he could have picked nearly anywhere, “[I should call my wife and Hestia... but they don’t need to know where I am. First, my wife, as I am missing. Hestia later, as only later will I be missing for her.]”
Hephaestus nodded as if Hades’ concerns over the multiple women in his life made perfect sense. He preferred not to comment, lest he say something glib he would regret. He briefly considered who he would call were he grievously injured. He got as far as Hades before stopping out of fear of depressing himself.
“[Do you have your phone?]’ Hephaestus asked. “[Or do you need to borrow one of my handsets?]”
As the question left his lips, Jarella appeared in the door way, a first aid kit in her hands. Wordlessly, she moved to Hades’ side and began treating his wounds.
“[You are in good hands now, Uncle,]” Hephaestus said pridefully. “[Jarella will have you feeling better in moments. She has... experience with treating serious wounds.]” Hephaestus himself was the source of that experience.
“[But, if things take a turn for the worse,]” Hephaestus said jokingly, “[I can always make you a new leg.]” Hephaestus tapped his right leg, once again referencing his self-inflicted wounds. “[I do good work, if I say so myself.]” Certainly his new legs were far superior to the old.
The consolation Hephaestus’ consideration offered his soul did not extend enough to allow Hades to join his nephew’s joking tone. Reality, brought back to his mind by his own mentioning of his family, crushed any ability to even feign a light-hearted jest.
“[I’ll need to borrow one. I guess part of me knew I was just going to break it if I brought it with me. And I’m sure she’ll be able to save my leg. I’ve endured worse and will have to endure worse again most likely,]” he managed to say within a single breath as he closed his eyes again, taking back his hand from the vigilant beast at his side. The Hellhound promptly but a tad gingerly simply laid down.
Hades completely ignored the Hellhound as he continued in a mutter, “[I used to strike fear in the hearts of those ogres. I guess I still do... they wouldn’t organize and come after me so fiercely if they weren’t still afraid...]”
Ogres?
“[Ogres?]” Hephaestus asked. He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.
Hephaestus took the handset he was about to hand to his uncle and slid it back on his belt.
“[Perhaps,]” Hephaestus offered, “[before you call anyone, you could tell me what happened. If you feel up to it.]”
Until Hades had mentioned ogres, Hephaestus had needed no explanation for his wounds. Hades was Hades, and he was always endangering himself in some way. Ogres, however, were more than a street gang or other danger Hades would face in the human world. Hephaestus’ curiosity was piqued.
Part of Hades clicked onto auto-pilot when Hephaestus said the word [Ogres] and then asked the question and it sounded very much like it wasn’t a completely conscious response at first. His voice monotoned slightly , which would have been familiar to someone who had frequented his court unlike Hephaestus, but also the vocabulary and conjugations more fitting of an Ancient Greek King, “[When the Underworld began to settle under my rule, the primordial gods that made up its geography found it fitting to offer me a tribute. With their divine energies they formed for me a cohort of monsters -- humanoid in build, bestial in mind, mortal in composition but tied to the realms of the dead so they could be reborn continuously --as a personal army. If they were not weaker than the Titans and if they could be trusted at all, maybe I would not have been confined to my duties as warden, but still, they walked Tartarus as an alarm bell for me since when they died they would appear before my throne before being reborn.]”
With a shift, Hades clenched his eyes shut in a pang of pain and his auto-pilot speech cadence fell away from him with a whimper, but he swallowed most of the sound down and took a breath. With the moment’s pause, he remembered Hephaestus probably didn’t need a detailed origin story and probably had actually wanted to know what had happened recently. He continued again in a more casual cadence, “[But yeah, they never appreciate me or my rule nor my disciplines when I would melt them out, but they couldn’t defeat me. Now they see their chance I guess when they can gang up. The Romans named them ‘Ogres’. I prefer it over any other term as it’s more accurate...]”
With another painful, laborious shift, he slowly pulled himself to sitting. He couldn’t just lay there. He felt pathetic and weak laying stretched out on a piece of diamond. If an ambush by the Ogres were going to make him weak and pathetic, he was going to fail everyone. He had to sit up... Even if that’s all he was going to be able to do for a while. “[I wonder how much... how much I can leave out of that ambush when I tell Persephone why I’m not home. ]”
Hephaestus made no special notice of Hades’ monotone. Living as he did in the world of academia, Hephaestus was used to even the most intriguing topics being explained in dry, long-winded speeches. Hephaestus listened intently, interested in the development and construction of these “Ogres”. Hades could have spoken on the topic as long as he wished as far as Hephaestus was concerned, but it was not to be.
Hades next words, though more to the point, were still skirting the issue. Hephaestus turned and looked at his uncle as he sat up.
“[You went to the Underworld?]” Hephaestus asked, trying to keep incredulity from his voice and pointedly ignoring the question about Persephone. “[If it was so dangerous, why didn’t you ask for my help?]” Hephaestus had only been planning for years on how to help Hades reclaim his former kingdom.
“[I was scouting. It wouldn’t have been so dangerous if I hadn’t become distracted...]” Hades shook his head. It wasn’t even distraction and he knew it. He had given away his position in a moment of illogical passion. He closed his eyes and started again. He didn’t feel like obscuring the truth from his nephew. Not when he was sitting on a bed of diamonds. “[... I was trying to ease some of the sufferings of the virtuous souls I had stumbled across and gave myself away. It was probably a trap by the Ogres now that I think about it. Baited with what they figured I wouldn’t resist... which they were right about.]”
Opening his eyes, he futilely wiped his ichor stained face with his equally ichor stained hands and then just let them drop to the diamond bed, “[I can’t ignore my realm anymore... I’ ll just drive myself insane if I do any longer... It’s bleeding into my life here as it is... The subconscious need....]”
Hephaestus felt a pang of regret that he had not been there when Hades had been seized by this subconscious need. He wondered what form it had taken in his uncle’s life, but he wouldn’t ask. All it would do is dredge up unnecessary stress in Hades to feed Hephaestus’ macabre need to be there for his uncle. Hephaestus could not change the past, but he could help Hades from here on out. He focused on that.
“[Uncle,]” Hephaestus began, his voice hushed in anticipation, “[If you are looking to make inroads into the Underworld, I have been preparing for years, ever since the Devil fiasco, to help you. Whether you want to simply effect an evacuation, get revenge on your enemies, or reclaim your entire kingdom, I can help. I have weapons by the score that can cleave a Titan in twain, which I know because I have rehabilitated a Titan to help us in just this sort of situation. If you want, I can even make a tireless army of robots to serve you, the technological mirror of the ogres that are set against you. You are not alone. I can help you.]” Hephaestus put a comforting hand on Hades’ shoulder, careful to avoid any of his wounds or use too much pressure.
Hades would be thankful if he knew of Hephaestus’ restraint. Explaining it would only make him truly face the various warnings and signs his mind had offered him before now... Instead, he was simply thankful for the comfort, despite the minor flinch his hand suddenly being on his shoulder caused him. He settled himself immediately. His awkwardness wouldn’t distract him from thinking very carefully about what his nephew was telling him...
Hera had offered her help in any way she could as well.
Persephone, when they had both journeyed below, asked if they were going to re-cultivate it.
Maybe he wasn’t alone in this and if he wasn’t alone in the hard part of reclaiming even a portion of his realm, maybe he wouldn’t be cursed with solitude when it came to defending it. Maybe it wouldn’t be his despairs made manifest...
Wait...
“[You rehabilitated Atlas for just this sort of situation?]”
Shock was clear on Hephaestus’ face for a moment before he burst into laughter. He removed his hand from Hades’ shoulder so as not to jostle him unduly. Hephaestus had not expected to be called on that little fact.
“[Perhaps not at first,]” Hephaestus admitted as his laughter died away. “[At first, it was more about preserving a valuable resource that might otherwise be destroyed should... cooler heads not prevail amongst the family.]” Chances of cooler heads prevailing amongst the family without subterfuge and manipulation were near zero in Hephaestus’ opinion.
“[However, after the Devil debacle, my focus did shift to how Atlas could be used to settle matters in the Underworld,]” Hephaestus explained. “[You see, Atlas has more value than just his strength, valuable as that is now that Herakles has been effectively neutralized.]” Hephaestus resisted rolling his eyes at that circumstance. “[Atlas is our gateway to the other Titans, locked as they are in the Underworld. Through him, we can negotiate with the others and give them a measure of freedom while we give your kingdom a measure of security. The Titans, once your prisoners, will now be your prison guards, and Atlas is the key to making that dream a reality.]” It would be an undertaking of monumental difficulty in spite of how easily it flowed from Hephaestus’ lips, but he had faith it could work. Faith enough that he had let the pursuit of it alienate one of his very dear friends.
“[You have thought about this very thoroughly...]” Hades said in quiet reply as his eyes lowered to his hands. His nephew’s words echoed in his mind... The Titans, once your prisoners, will now be your prison guards, and Atlas is the key to making that dream a reality. His centuries of guarding them, of being forgotten in the shadows of the realms of the dead felt only six months ago... all the centuries. Each time he had to struggle with them when they managed to slip their bonds somehow... It sounded so easy when it flowed from his nephew’s lips but something in his soil recoiled. A bitter, resentful part...
And it was joined by the sense of duty enjoined on him by his younger brother, etched into his mind from a brutal war with them... And it all felt six months ago...
He was about to speak but his own mind cut him off. Pride? Zeus? That’s what holding you back from savin’ them? From being a good king to them? Zeus is dead and you are not important.... Hades rubbed his eyes and temples, finally manging to speak in reply, “[I don’t think I’m in the right emotional mindset to respond to that, Nephew....]”
“[There’s no need to rush yourself, Uncle,]” Hephaestus soothed. “[You have been through enough today. Think on it when you are ready. And if you do not feel like allying with they who were once your mortal foes,]” Hephaestus had considered this pitfall particularly likely, “[well, there are always the weapons and the robots.]” Atlas had his own life now. Hephaestus had ceased worrying about him months ago. If he didn’t serve the purpose Hephaestus had intended for him, at least he was no longer a threat.
No need to rush myself... They’ve suffered for so long and I’m going certifiably insane... Hades ceased to rub his eyes only to look down at his ichor stained hands. To release the Titans... to free them from their bonds and slumber and have them serve as guards. The new trend in imprisonment was to rehabilitate, he supposed. A soft shimmer surrounded one of his blackened hands and a ring of ornate gold-plated titanium rattled into existence. The keys to the Titans’ bonds manifested as he truly considered it. The would still be in the Underworld... It wouldn’t even be skating my duties...
Hades’ soul recoiled in him again, even at the thought and the keys shimmered away from the nothingness they came from. When they were gone he simply put his head in his hands. His despair for the dead, resentment at the Titans and his duty toward them, fear for the loss of his current life and the pain that wracked his battered body were in competition for his attention and he didn’t especially feel like dealing with any of them. “[I should probably make some phone calls...]”
Hephaestus handed over his handset wordlessly and without further delay. Whatever had passed through Hades mind in the last few moments, it was obvious that it stirred up great turmoil in his uncle. Hephaestus only wanted him to focus on getting better. There would be a time for discussion and planning, and now was not that time. As Jarella finished dressing Hades wounds, Hephaestus thought it was time for a tasteful exit.
“[I’ll let you have your privacy, Uncle,]” Hephaestus said politely. “[Should you need me or the girls, you’ll have one of my phones, simply call another one. If you want something more direct, their is a phone on the dresser that connects directly to my workshop and other areas in the house.]”
“[You can clean up in the bathroom,]” Hephaestus offered, pointing to the closed bathroom door. “[Don’t worry. Your new bandages are waterproof and the water is on a closed system, so no ichor will be leeched into the local water table.]” Ichor was too precious a commodity to simply waste like that. All gathered ichor would be repurposed as ichor circuits.
“[I hope you recover swiftly, Uncle,]” he said earnestly. “[Do not hesitate to call if you need something.]” Hephaestus took one more appraising glance at Hades, then turned and headed for the door. Today’s paperwork was totally forgotten.
Summary:
Hades emerges from the grim gates of Hell battered and bloodied with his faithful hellhound in tow in the middle of Hephaestus’ house. Hephaestus has to deal with his uncle’s physical injuries along with his usual crazy. But, Hephaestus, ever the dutiful nephew, is ready for both, and Hades finds another ally in his mad escapade.