In Plain Sight

In the heart of Veridian Heights, a great city teeming with life, the triumphant chatter of man and machine punctuated the air. Buildings towered above, a grand fusion of classical old-world architecture intertwined with the twisted industrial charm of the new. Temples of gray marble stood proudly next to mechanized factories puffing out steam, columns intertwining with cogs and gears in a distinctly new-age harmony. The skyline was as diverse as the population, strewn with towering obelisks and vast amphitheaters, their majesty accentuated by the golden hue of a setting sun.

The city reveled under a clear, cerulean sky, a gentle zephyr whispering secrets through the lattice of its winding cobblestone streets. The sun bestowed its warm blessing, glimmering on the elaborate networks of brass pipes and iron tracks traversing the cityscape.
The teeming streets bore witness to the dance of progress and tradition. Men and women, adorned in mostly practical suits and dresses with a liberal splash of elegance, navigated the streets. Elaborate "mystech" instruments and accessories were worn beneath and over their clothing, winking and humming in the sunlight. The citizen's faces painted a tapestry of human life - joy and sorrow, hope and despair, intrigue and indifference, all parading under the golden light of Helios.

Vendors were hawking their wares, their voices jostling to overpower the rhythmic churn of steam and clank of gears. Mechanized chariots hissed past, going forward by the power of essence engines instead of horses. The scent of roasting meats and sweet treats wafted from food stalls, vying with the pervasive aroma of oil and hot metal. Clockwork messenger owls hooted from perches, steam hissing from their brass bodies as they awaited activation. A dozen children ran nearby, their laughter echoing through the streets.

Amongst this vibrant chaos walked a figure, a wandering specter, his alabaster skin contrasting sharply with the warm, earthy tones around him. His eyes, ruddy as blood, scanned the city with a hint of melancholy. His hair, as dark and brown as mud, flowed loosely around his shoulders. He was clothed in a black suit, starkly contrasting with the more colorful populace, his cloak billowing as he moved with an elegant purpose, undisturbed by the bustle around him.

The god's eyes remained watchful, his fingers lightly grazing the ornate handle of a small brass rod thrumming with internal clockwork and mystech - the handiwork of Hephaestus. As the city lived and breathed around him, Hades ventured deeper into the heart of Veridian Heights, prepared to unearth secrets that the city seemed eager to keep. Still, as his feet trudged forward, guided by the device's readings, Hades was sure to find his mark.

As the ornate pointer on the Titanoscope quietened, Hades stood before the Skulking Cerberus, a notorious tavern nestled in the murkier corners of Veridian Heights. The exterior was weathered, its darkened timber and wrought iron facade blurring the line between ancient ruin and mystech marvel. A tarnished sign swung lazily in the evening breeze, its emblem of a three-headed hound rendered eerie in the fading light.

Within the walls of the Skulking Cerberus, shadows danced amidst the low drone of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Flickering essence lamps cast a dim glow, glinting off lenses and brass pipes that snaked along the ceiling and walls. Patrons, a motley crowd of miscreants, ruffians, and curiosities, hunched over their drinks, paying little heed to the newcomer. The air was thick with a brew of pipe smoke, seared meat, and an undertone of something sour that Hades couldn't quite place.

Hades crossed the threshold, eliciting a noticeable drop in the din. His pale skin seemed to glow, casting a ghoulish pallor against the dark backdrop. His keen eyes swept over the huddled forms and hardened faces, each a story etched in lines of hardship and desperation. A few looked up from their drinks, sensing a chill as the Lord of the Underworld passed. They quickly looked away.

The god found his way to the counter, the heart of this den of iniquity. The bartender, a statuesque woman with flaming red hair and eyes that shone with an untamed spirit, flashed him a challenging smile. She moved with an allure that captivated and commanded, her simple dress clinging to her form like a second skin, contrasting sharply with her work-worn hands.

"A thratch," he ordered, his voice rolling through the tavern like a winter fog.

A laugh escaped the bartender's lips. "Haven't heard a voice that cold in a long while," she remarked, pouring the amber liquid into a brass-bottomed glass. "Care for some warming up?"

Hades eyed the bartender meticulously. He wondered if she was flirting with him or referring to his ordered drink. He chose to take the remark without insinuation and nodded, a faint smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Well, my shift ends in an hour," she said with a playful wink, sliding the drink over to him and collecting the generous payment he produced from his waistcoat pocket.

Grasping the glass, Hades brushed aside the sensuous offer and took a moment to appreciate the thratch's smoky aroma before downing a swallow. He scanned the crowd again, this time with a more discerning gaze. The Titanoscope was no more valuable than a decorative trinket in this range. He had to rely on his intuition, honed from centuries of experience and enhanced by godhood.

He looked for a figure that didn't fit, someone who couldn't help but betray their true nature. Titans were like towering oaks among shrubs, mighty and resolute, standing out even when they tried to blend in. They couldn't help but be remarkable, a trait that was their strength and undoing. For this reason, the Titans created the gods, exalting them from the ranks of their mortal subjects to act as ambassadors to the humanity they struggled to understand. The centuries of imprisonment in Tartarus only made the Titans' unfamiliarity all the more profound.

As the warmth of the thratch spread through him, Hades narrowed his eyes, ready to uncover the wolf hiding among the sheep. His gaze fell on each patron, a god among men, in search of a titan among gods. The hunt was on.

His gaze scrutinizing, Hades drifted through the press of bodies, stopping at a corner table where a burly, scarred man sat engrossed in a game of bone dice. He was a mountain of a man, his size impressive, but his eyes held no spark of divine flame. Still, Hades slid into the vacant chair across from him. They traded words and jests, but Hades found only the echoes of mortality and struggle in his hearty laughs and brash tales of valor. Shaking his head and pressing a coin into the man's surprised hand, Hades left him to his game and ale.

Next, he found a young woman, gorgeous with wild hair that seemed to have captured the night sky. She was shrouded in mystery, her eyes flashing with hidden secrets. Hades offered her a drink in exchange for conversation. But as they conversed, Hades realized that behind the enigmatic facade was a lost soul yearning for acceptance and love. She was remarkable only in her desire to seem so. He thanked her for her time, leaving her to her dreams and aspirations, untouched by the divine.

Lastly, he approached an old man, blind and hunched, humming an old tune. The man's voice was a harmonious relic of a bygone era. Yet, in their brief exchange, Hades only found a weary soul clinging to the past, his stories drenched in the bitter-sweet wine of nostalgia. Respectfully, Hades left him to his songs, with a good amount of coin poured into his overturned hat.

Three thratches in, three unremarkable souls closer to his goal, Hades found himself back at the counter, his glass empty and his hopes dwindling. The bartender, her fiery hair a beacon in the dim light, greeted him with a knowing smile.

"Another thratch?" she asked, already reaching for the bottle.

He nodded, his fingers brushing hers as he accepted the refilled glass. "What's your name?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

"Melaina," she replied, her accent making the word sound like a melody. She leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling as she examined the god's gaze upon her. "How about yours, stranger?"

Hades flashed a grin, detecting a hint of deception in her voice at the declaration of her name. He would do the same as she gave. "Xander," he lied.

"Where you from?" asked the bartender.

Hades was quiet for a long moment as he sipped at his thratch. "Epeii," he said, giving a truthful statement from a long-forgotten life.

"Where's that?" asked the bartender, raising her eyebrow.

"Doesn't matter," remarked the god. "Yourself?"

With that, the bartender shared tales of her life. Her story was of resilience and ambition, a woman making her way in a world of men and machines. Each word she spoke breathed life into the otherwise lifeless tavern.

His thoughts began to shift. Perhaps the bartender was the anomaly he sought. This Melaina was remarkable, a vibrant soul thriving amidst drudgery. He found himself intrigued, captivated by the strength in her laughter and the wisdom in her words. Could this woman, so human and full of life, be the escaped monster he sought? There were two possibilities to consider.

Hades finished his drink, his gaze lingering on Melaina. "That offer," he started, a sly grin creeping onto his face, "is it still on the table?"

Her laughter was a welcome sound, filling the space between them. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask," she said, stepping back from the counter. "Meet me in the alley out back. I just need to punch out," Melaina tossed a knitted coat over her shoulders, her fiery hair cascading over it as she disappeared into the backroom.

Hades finished his drink and rose, anticipation thrumming in his veins. He stepped out into the cool night air, ready to meet what may be his Titan. The hunt was nearing its end, or perhaps, it was just beginning.

Stepping out into the brisk night, Hades pulled out the Titanoscope. He twisted the shaft, feeling the familiar thrum of energy as a soft buzz emanated from the device. The signal was sent.

He entered the alleyway, its narrow confines consumed by the ominous shadows. As he entered, he noticed the flickering orange glow of an essence lamp at the far end. Bathed in the dim light, Melaina stood waiting, her fiery hair and provocative smile igniting the dark. The tension was palpable; a subtle game of cat and mouse had begun.

Melaina sauntered over, her movements predatory, purposeful. Her hand traced the line of his jacket, her touch filled with the promise of unseen depths. She tugged at his waistcoat, her voice husky, "Why don't you loosen up, Xander? You're stiff as a marble statue... and not in a good way," she said with a breathy giggle.

The soft radiance of an essence lamp spilled into the alleyway, bathing Melaina and Hades in a muted, golden light. It painted an otherworldly portrait on Melaina's face, rendering her an ethereal entity lost amidst the labyrinth of shadow and light. Her eyes, vibrant and alive, glinted with a mischievous twinkle, their depths echoing a well of unfathomable secrets.

On the other hand, Hades was a study of contrasts. The lamplight smoothed over the harsh lines of his face, rendering his usually stern countenance into something softer, almost amiable. Yet, his eyes bore an edgy, unsettled look, indicating his subtle discomfort. The dim glow was generous yet insufficient to veil his well-masked unease.

"You're quite good at this, aren't you?" Melaina said, her voice low and husky as she closed the distance between them, her fingers tracing an idle path up his arm. Her words were delivered with a playful grin, her body language screaming audacious flirtation. "I bet you're rather skilled, aren't you?"

Hades shrugged, leaning back against the brick wall as he evaded her touch. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, a faint smirk on his lips. His words were flippant, his tone nonchalant, yet every move he made was carefully measured to deter Melaina's advances without offending her. It was a delicate balancing act on the precipice of a razor-thin precipice.

The flirtatious back and forth took a sudden turn as Hades' deflections grew more apparent, his evasive tactics spiraling out of control. What started as lighthearted teasing morphed into a charged exchange, the air between them heavy with tension and unsaid words.

"Stop playing games, Xander," Melaina hissed, her hand curling into a fist at her side. The flirtatious gleam in her eyes had been replaced by a spark of annoyance. The air around them grew stifling, the undercurrent of their conversation shifting from playful to precarious.

Hades held her gaze, the smile fading from his lips. "Games? I'm just enjoying our conversation, Melaina," he countered, his voice calm and measured. The storm was quietly brewing in the heart of their dialogue, an unspoken showdown looming soon.

Melaina's patience was running thin. The ember of desire in her eyes was slowly replaced by a spark of suspicion, simmering anger. Her fiery nature was beginning to show its proper form, the temper of a Titan revealing itself. The once-cordial atmosphere was swallowed by aggressive energy, setting the stage for the ensuing showdown.

"Stalling? Is that your game?" the temptress bartender accused, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Suddenly, her demeanor shifted from seduction to aggression. With a surge of Titanic strength, she attacked, sending Hades sprawling. Her fists pummeled him, the metallic golden strands of her hair burning away and silver-tinted flesh shining under the bruised knuckles of her facade.

With the disguise dripping off her form, Melaina melted away to reveal precious metal elements wrought in her Titanic design. The bartender was gone, but in her place was the once powerful and mighty Titaness, Theia. Her laughter echoed ominously, her voice soaked with mockery. "So this is the mighty Hades? More like a pitiful wretch," she sneered, landing another blow. "What are you waiting for?"

Hades grimaced, taking her beating without retaliation. He replied, panting, "Them."

Theia jerked away from Hades as a distinct footfall echoed down the alley. Two shapes slowly materialized in the fading orange glow of the essence lamp. The first was a slender silhouette, moving with an agility that defied the stillness of the night. His attire was humble, reminiscent of a traveler, but the shimmering wings on his sandals hinted at a divine secret concealed within his mortal guise. It was Hermes, the swift-footed messenger of the gods, his presence in the alley a stark omen of impending chaos.

Beside him, a second figure emerged, her stature radiating an undeniable authority. Dressed in a similar cloak, her demeanor exuded an invincible combination of strength and wisdom. As she moved, the soft light revealed glimpses of polished armor peeking beneath her cloak. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, wore her formidable prowess like a second skin, intimidating even in the unassuming light of the alleyway.

Recognition hit Theia like a punch to the gut, her eyes widening in alarm as she realized the trap she had walked into. This was more than a mere ambush; it was a Wild Hunt, a dreaded pursuit of the gods.

In a flurry of fear-driven action, Theia snatched Hades, pulling his bruised form in front of her as an impromptu shield. "Stay back!" she snarled, echoing ominously off the alley walls.

However, Hades let out a weak, bemused chuckle amidst her threats. Though strained from the beating, his voice held an undertone of mockery. "If you're so convinced this is a Wild Hunt," he croaked, "Then you should know that I always ride with three. Now tell me, where is the fourth?"

Just as Theia spun around to inspect the alleyway, a figure surged from the shadows, Hades' bident in hand. It was Persephone, her eyes blazing with fury. Before the Titan could react, Persephone slammed the blunt tip of the shaft's end into the Titan's face. Theia crumbled as Persephone quipped, "Get your damned hands off my husband."

With labored breath, Hades lifted his gaze to meet his approaching companions. Hades brushed off his suit with poise and dignity as he regained his footing. A fleeting grimace crossed his face, disappearing as quickly as it came. "Hermes, Athena," he managed to grunt out, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper, "Take care of our guest, will you?"

A smirk dancing on his lips, Hermes produced a set of chains from beneath his cloak. They glistened in the lamplight, an ethereal hue rippling across their surface. These were no ordinary bonds. Made of mythril, they bore the strength of the divine, explicitly crafted for subduing entities as powerful as Titans.

For her part, Athena squared her shoulders and steeled herself for the challenge ahead. Her hands, steady and sure, were poised to seize the writhing Theia, whose struggles were growing more desperate by the second.

As Athena lunged, Theia's protest was cut short. The chains, skillfully maneuvered by Hermes, wound themselves around the Titan. Athena's powerful grip bore down, making every effort of resistance by the captured Titan less and less effective. The once defiant creature was swiftly, but not easily, restrained, her monstrous strength yielding to the combined efforts of the gods.

With that business sorted out, Hades turned to his wife. He stepped close to her and ran his fingertips down her arm. As she raised her green eyes to meet his gaze, Hades flashed her a weary smile before pressing his lips to hers.

Persephone raised a hand to gently caress the brow of the god. A fresh wound cut over the god's eye, with hot ichor seeping from the gash. The wound closed with a flick of the goddess' wrist and a crackle of essence. A wipe of her thumb later, the goddess cleared the ichor from the god's brow.

Hades leaned forward, pressing his forehead to his wife's. With a heavy breath, the god turned to his niece and nephew. As he draped his arm around Persephone's shoulders, his lips parted to ask, "Would you two terribly mind handling the transport and escort?"

"Not a problem at all," quipped Hermes with a chuckle. "Nothing that the God of Travel can't manage," he said, twirling his Caduceus about gracefully.

"You're not returning with us, uncle?" Athena inquired, her brow furrowed as she looked at Hades.

Gently taking Persephone by the hand, Hades said, "I think I'll buy my wife a drink and see where the night takes us." Soft laughter escaped his lips as he led Persephone back toward the Skulking Cerberus, leaving Hermes and Athena with their captive.

Unable to resist the urge, Hermes smirked. "Looks like someone's getting more than a drink tonight," muttered the god under his breath as he pushed the bound Titan into Athena's waiting grasp.

Athena groaned and shook her head. "Alright then," she said, manhandling the Titaness as the three stepped away from mortal eyes, disappearing into the shadows of the alleyway.

## Characters

### Gods

* Hades
* Hermes
* Athena
* Persephone