The Mythos of Promachos: The Promethean

[Horror-Frost13]

Part One: The Dreamer

"It always starts the same. I'm flying, but not through the sky. It's not quite space either. It's cold and dark, but filled with a thousand golden lights. And then...I'm her."

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The kid hadn't been in Paragon long enough to know that dawdling was always a terrible idea.

Basil the Capo loitered outside of a Wentworth's warehouse in Founder's Falls, hoping to god that this kid he got stuck with didn't attract the handful of capes left in town. It had been a quiet few years for the whole of the city as calamities dwindled. Heroes were needed less and less as Basil's bosses in the Family found themselves finally rounded up and sent to the Zig for good. In another life, that would have made an opportunity for guys like Basil to move on up. But infighting and chaos filled the voice before he could and now Made Men like him had to scrounge for whatever work they could find. Hence his taking Iggy "the Inside Man" under his wing for a shot at looting a Wentworth's. Basil's actual man on the inside had informed him that he could provide a 45 minute window for them to break in and snag something of value.

They were slowly creeping in on minute 29.

Against his better judgement, Basil ashed out his cigar and made his way through the pried open security door. Any other score he would ditch, but the last few months had been scarce and what little funds he had left were running dry. Besides, if nothing else, he could dump the kid in one of the Venetian water ways and keep his cut for himself. Price of taking too long.

The security lights in the warehouse had been killed for their purposes that night. Basil felt his way along the dark corridor, using the ceiling high stacks of artifact storage as his guide.  Like an Athenian in a labyrinth, the old gangster moved in silence and fear, drawing a relic of a Saturday night special from his stolen Wentworth's uniform. The sound of a smooth, dark voice in a foreign tongue just around the corner froze his blood and body in place.

"Είναι μια απλή εμπορική , Προμηθέα . Η κοπέλα για την ελευθερία σας . Μόνο Εγώ μπορώ να σας κρύψει από ..."

"Boss...please...help..."

Basil nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Iggy's wheezing voice. The young hood was lying on the ground nearby, an open wound on his chest. It looked like someone had bashed an auger through to his heart. He was dying and the little idiot didn't know it.

"Oh...so you're Iggy's partner."

The old gangster couldn't quite see through the dark, but he could make out the face of a dark skinned man now standing before him, a stone like grip on his throat. Basil gasped for air and clutched at his suit sleeve before recalling the gun still in his right hand, opening fire at point blank range. He emptied 3 rounds into the pale man's stomach, but that tombstone face offset by dark hair didn't even twitch. As the horrific realization that he was in over his head washed over Basil, a heavy, slithering sound approached from behind, like mud or sod being pushed on a concrete floor.

"You have chosen your partner poorly, old man..." muttered the Dark Man while something took position behind Basil. "Now let's see if my choice in partner is any wiser."
_____________

"...that's pretty heavy, Minnie."

Minnie Watson sighed at her roommate's simplistic declaration. The two graduate students sat across from one another in their Steel Canyon studio, the psychology student Claudia Klein studying the mousey haired smaller young woman from her perch on the couch. Neither one knew what to make of the other, a long held stalemate since Minnie had answered Claudia's flyer for a room. Admittedly they saw little of each other, as their respective pursuits of a career in psychology and museum professions kept them at odd schedules, and there was little to no conflict between their living styles.

But this morning Claudia nearly jumped out of her skin when she found her Minnie passed out on the couch in a disheveled state. Red eyed and weary, she had conceded to Claudia's demands to feed her and, an egg and sausage bagel later, submitted to her inquiries on what had floored the otherwise quiet Master's student last night.

"I was here all night." She began, taking a heavy breath through her nostrils. "I swear, I was here all night. And yet...I had this dream. I couldn't say where I was, but I was moving fast, so the whole world came off like a blur. It slowed down some times and I could make out voices, some of them...nice...some of them...strange. Scary sometimes."

"Are you sure this isn't drugs? This sounds like drugs."

"Oh shut up you, don't make me regret finally talking..." Minnie laughed a bit, or at least tried to, before continuing. "It always starts the same. I'm flying, but not through the sky. It's not quite space either. It's cold and dark, but filled with a thousand golden lights. And then...I'm her."

"Who?"

"I don't know. But she frightens me."

"...that's pretty heavy, Minnie."

Minnie sighed and began to pull herself together. She'd been in Paragon for 3 years now, pursuing a Museum Studies graduate program at Paragon State University, while also being a fellow at the Verrazano Institute of Antiquities. But still this place unnerved her, even on a short walk on a sunny Saturday to the train station. Aliens, super powered street hoods, super soldier Nazis had become not only a part of her everyday life, but a reality of her work; museums were juicy targets for all walks of life in a world of heroes and villains. But even with the regular fantastic sights and sounds of Paragons assailing her almost every hour of every day, the dreams were what got her the most.

And the woman.

_____________

The Verra, as it was affectionately known, was more than just a museum of the plundered loot of bygone explorers. It is one the most expansive known repositories of cleansed arcane artifacts in the world, housing everything from Oranbegan to Aztec idols cleared for public exposure and education. In days gone past, a place like the Verra would have been regularly plundered by super villains if not for the tight bonds between it and the local population and MAGI. It had been reasoned that magic had become such a regular part of Paragon City life that to limits its exposure and understanding to heroes and the occasional occultist shop was irresponsible and caused more problems than it was worth. As such, arcane heroes would take regular shifts perching from nearby rooftops while MAGI and even Midnighter agents shifted in betwixt the throngs of locals and tourists.

It felt strange to say, but Minnie always felt safe in the Beaux-arts temple that was little more than a mystical powder keg of treasures. To her it was like being in a personal vault, locked away from all the craziness the outside world demanded her to accept, even if it meant being locked in with the works of long dead cults and empires. So when she had settled in for the night at her office, planning on drafting out the rest of her exhibit proposal for the Zoria Exhibit, she was startled by a voice at the door.

"Ms. Watson, right?"

Minnie scolded herself for jumping in her chair. She couldn't recall her name, but she did recognize the blue clad robed archer standing in the doorway, a pair of steaming coffees in her hands. The archer had been on duty for the past week or so, occasionally making public appearances but mostly staying hidden, observing the crowds for any activity. Apparently she was more trusted than Minnie thought, to get in this late at night.

"Yes, but please, call me Minnie. Can I help you?"

"Other way around, Miss. You look wearier than I, and I've been on the damned roof for 12 hours. Director Stivinson sent me to escort me out."

Minnie frowned, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk. "But she wanted me to have this exhibit proposal draft ready by Monday..."

"She'd also probably want you to be more than half-awake when writing it. Besides, you know the rules, no non-security staff on site when a hero changes shift and I'm about done here. Besides, I had a question about the Cimeroran exhibit, thought it might help me on a case."

Remarking that she was now set back 2 hours on her work, Minnie closed up her work station and followed the hero Wild Blue into the polished halls of the museum. Dull yellow lighting, left on from an evening event hosted hours before, lit the arching halls like a cavern. It was the little things like this that made Minnie feel at home, more so than the comfort of her apartment or single room back home...

"You name is Minerva, right?"

"I'm sorry?"

The two found themselves in the great atrium of the Verra, now home to a host of Cimeroran statues.

"Your name. You call yourself Minnie, but it is...Minerva, right?"

"Well, yes, but I would just prefer Minnie, thank you."

"You should be proud of your name...and your namesake."

The lights dimmed and Wild Blue seemed to fade in with the statues, slipping around a corner before Minnie could catch her. Her heart began to race.

"I knew her, you know...your patron." Wild Blue's voice echoed in the great doom, but slowly shifted into something sluggish and dragging, like stone on soil. "She is a fine warrior and queen, though I fought against her and her wretched siblings. To think I stood alongside her father, the great tormentor of my own creator! But now I have new friends, scion of Athena..."
A great crash prompted Minnie to turn on her heel and collapse to the floor. White marble littered the polished floor as a twisted figure loomed over the remains of a statue. She could vaguely describe it as a man, but with a greyish-yellow stone body that stretched and twisted. Veins of red hot lava hissed between seems of stone skin, flowing like blood across its body and leading to a gaping maw and a hellish pair of eyes.

"And like you, it's all in the past!"

To be continued...