The rain poured down in sheets over the city of Olympus. Neon lights flickered in the deluge, casting long shadows across the alleyways. Thunder rolled like a distant growl, a fitting prelude to the storm that was about to break loose in the heavens and on the rain-slicked streets below.
In the smoky haze of a dingy bar, he sat, nursing a glass of ambrosia. Zeus, the big man upstairs, the top dog of the celestial crime syndicate. His piercing eyes, the color of a stormy sky, scanned the room, missing nothing. His beard, flecked with silver, spoke of age and wisdom, but the hard lines etched into his face were carved by decades of battles and betrayals.
“Another round,” he muttered, pushing the glass toward the bartender, a mortal who’d long since learned to keep his mouth shut and his eyes averted. In Olympus, power was the ultimate currency, and Zeus had more of it than anyone could fathom.
The door creaked open, letting in a gust of wind and the scent of rain. A figure stepped inside, trench coat dripping, hat pulled low. It was Hermes, the messenger god, and Zeus’s go-to guy for the dirty work. Hermes had a knack for getting into places unnoticed and extracting the kind of information that kept Zeus one step ahead of his enemies.
“Boss,” Hermes said, sliding into the booth across from Zeus. “We’ve got a problem.”
Zeus raised an eyebrow, the flicker of a lightning bolt illuminating his face for a split second. “What kind of problem?”
“Poseidon’s been making waves, talking about taking over the family business. He’s got Hades backing him up, and you know those two ain’t just blowing smoke.”
Zeus’s grip tightened around the glass. Poseidon, his own brother, always had a chip on his shoulder, always thought he could do better. And Hades, the lord of the underworld, was a snake in the grass, always scheming, always lurking in the shadows.
“Those two clowns think they can muscle in on my territory?” Zeus growled, a low rumble that echoed through the bar. “They’re gonna learn the hard way who calls the shots around here.”
Hermes nodded, sliding a slim dossier across the table. “Intel suggests they’re planning a move tonight. You want me to send a message?”
Zeus leaned back, a cold smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, Hermes. Send them a message. Make sure they know there’s only one kingpin in Olympus.”
As Hermes slipped out into the night, Zeus finished his drink and stood, the storm outside mirroring the one brewing within him. Olympus was his domain, and anyone who dared to challenge him would face the wrath of the thunder god himself.
He stepped out into the rain, lightning crackling around him, each step a declaration of power. Zeus wasn’t just a god—he was the law, the order, and the chaos all rolled into one. And anyone who forgot that was in for a rude awakening.
The streets of Olympus were about to light up, and the king of the gods was ready to remind everyone why he reigned supreme.
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