Bulls On Parade

[Nick Trano]

Prometheus, Son of Iapetus


It isn't like they really trusted me to begin with,
Prometheus thought as he walked unnoticed through the city streets. Jötunheimr was called the land of the giants, but all Prometheus could see to show for it was a penchant for obnoxiously tall doors and roofs. It would have been more accurate to call it the land of unnecessary cold. The middle season was barely half way gone and frost already coated the buildings and cobblestones. Even so, chariots still blazed down the streets with reckless abandon. The northmen certainly lacked any sense of self preservation.

Just twenty years ago, Prometheus betrayed everyone he'd ever known. He did it because it was the right thing to do, at the time. The Titans had grown fat and corrupt, living out lives of obscenity while the people under their rule starved and died - if they weren't snatched up as pawns in some horrific game. But now the wars were winding down, the last holdouts being squeezed into pudding. They were rallying around Cronus now, and Prometheus had spent long enough with his former family to know how that would end. But Pallas was in the wind, and he was a dangerous man.

With peace on the horizon, however, everything comes into perspective. It wasn't what Prometheus thought he'd seen. The Olympian Gods were no better than the Titans they replaced. It was all about power, and those with none were being ground into dust under foot. So, for a second time, Prometheus betrayed those to whom he had pledged his life. And this, he hoped, was the last time that would ever be necessary. Democracy was just a theory, barely even whispered about in the darkest corners of academia. If Prometheus had his way it would be a reality.

Prometheus suppressed a smirk and clutched the tablet closer under his coat. Filed away in lattices of the Power was all the information they needed. Now it was up to Coyote to crack it. Only the edge of the sun still grasped the horizon, bathing the sky in red. The first misting of an aurora was starting to come into view with the dying of the light.

The shadier sorts would be coming out into the air, soon, but Prometheus was unafraid. In what world could a simple human threaten a Titan? And that's the problem, isn't it?
Prometheus thought. Without weapons, without a leader, what chance did the humans have?

Prometheus rounded a street corner and the meeting place came into view. The Icy Nipple was a tavern like many others in Jötunheimr, with a bawdy name and serving women wearing barely a thread. They were lucky the Gods of the north were civic-minded enough to set standing flows of warmth throughout the city's structures. The tavern itself was nestled in a small cross street, its sign with two snow capped peaks hanging out over the path. <em><strong>Now that's just lazy,</strong></em>
Prometheus thought as he glanced up.

The scene inside was exactly as expected. A blonde haired serving girl who certainly fit the image the tavern was cultivating walked up to take his coat. Prometheus had to give the northerners credit - their women definitely beat out the offerings in Olympia. He sent her on her way with a smile and a pat on the bottom. Then he locked eyes with Achilles, and with a nod towards the back room, it was time to set their plans in motion. Whatever those were going to be.

"It turns out the Olympians don't suspect anything yet,"
Prometheus said. They were standing in a back room normally reserved for - well, Prometheus wasn't planning on touching any of the cushions. The stench of cheap perfume was overpowering. He pulled the small tablet out of his pocket. "I have what we're after. Now let's hope Coyote is actually as good as he likes to say."


Achilles smiled. Prometheus could smell the alcohol. "Yeah. I hope your buddy is all he says."
If Prometheus didn't remember what it was like at that age, drunk off of newfound power, he'd have found the optimism in that smile sickening.

Prometheus looked at Achilles for a moment, tapping the tablet against his hand before replacing it in his pocket. "You know once we start this, there's no going back."
The fact was, if Achilles wanted he could turn around and blend into the world. He hadn't done enough to warrant a long hunt, and the world was big enough for him to have a normal life. "They'll never stop hounding you, if we lose."
Twice a traitor, and Prometheus knew the price he would eventually pay.

Achilles ran his hand through his hair. "My path was set a long time ago. I may be a god, but I'm not a god."
He smiled again, continuing, "Let's do this."


Prometheus smirked. "Neither am I. They used to call me a Titan, but I don't think anyone's too sure anymore."
He sighed, and almost leaned against a chair before catching himself. Good way to catch the rot, that. "You have to sober up, Achilles. No more drinks. I can't just wash it away with these wardings the northern Gods have set."


Achilles laughed. "Just waiting, pops. And making sure no one wonders what you all are up to."
The words were a little slurred. "So let me drink in peace."


"I'm not asking, Achilles,"
A fire appeared in Prometheus's eyes. "I'm telling you. You are going to be a part of making some very important decisions when Coyote finally crawls in here. You're useless if you can't think right."
Pops? Prometheus's mouth narrowed. He wasn't that old.

Achilles laughed and smirked at Prometheus. "Don't worry about me. I was just trying to make sure no one asked any questions about you. When it comes down to it, you don't need to worry."
He smiled again. Why were children so hard to deal with? "Come on, man. When have I let you down?"


"Just because you haven't doesn't mean you -"
Prometheus cut the sentence short. He heard footprints down the hall.


Edited by Nick Trano, Oct 17 2016, 12:45 AM.