The Olympians: The Fall of Kin

The Dogs of War

            Yokai was his name. At least, that's what he preferred to go by. He'd forsaken his human name. He chose this name, obviously, because it told of his great power. A bit on the nose, but it sufficed, and he liked it. He sat beneath the branches of a tree in Central Park, basking in the warmth of the day. It was Sunday, November 20th, the year 2348. A mere day before the attack, a day before war would be declared on humanity. His black hair was in long braids, secured into a fist-sized bun at the base of his neck. With a body made of pure muscle, it was obvious to all that he treated it like it was a temple. True, the more God DNA one had, the harder it was to gain weight, but it was almost as difficult to build muscle, considering that they were already as strong as trains, especially an Omega such as he. His ebony skin gleamed in the sunlight, his eyes gray with blindness. Even with that though, he was still able to see, much like a bat with its sonar screams.

The Park was much more peaceful than he'd thought it would be. He'd never been. Kids and adults milled about, running, or playing on the various paths that carved their way through the gigantic park. They smiled, laughed, as if they hadn't a care in the world. He supposed that made him sick: the idea that these people who claimed brotherhood with their fellow men could seem so unpanicked in spite of all that had transpired in this year alone. The deaths of thousands of their own in both a neighboring state and one halfway across the country.

Yokai felt every death of one of his brethren, mourned them as if they really were his brothers. And he was saddened that so many of his brothers and sisters had to fall in Seattle to bring their plan to fruition. It was a worthy cause to sacrifice for, but still, it wouldn't have been necessary had it not been for the humans around him.

"That's terrible," he would hear some of them say about the attacks. And then they would move on with their day.

I will take pleasure in killing all of you.

They were all terrible. Every one of them. And they would pay for their sins.

The winds picked up, whistling, bashing against the trees. He could hear the leaves swaying, singing their song like static on a busted radio.

"BOO!" A voice shouted from right beside him.

Yokai didn't react in the slightest.

"Aww, come on. You're telling me that wasn't enough to scare you?"

"I could hear your footsteps. You're quieter in the air."

"Yeah, maybe." Oni said from beside her. She sank to the ground beside her, dead leaves crunching under her weight. "Or maybe you just have crazy-good hearing." She said with a laugh.

"Possible." He admitted, no emotion in his tone. "What are you doing here? You know he said we could spend the time until the mission doing whatever we please, right?"

"Sure, I know. But I figured I'd come and see you." She spoke. He had a feeling that she was shrugging when she said that.

Oni, barely a woman, lay down beside her. She was eighteen, the same age as Deity had been when she too had been admitted into The Demon-Heads. If you asked her, that was far too young. Young people had such fickle emotions. One day, they might buy into what you said, follow you with the utmost loyalty. And the next, they may hear someone speak with such fervor that their loyalties wither. They lacked the experience to have true conviction.

That was one reason he found it so unsurprising when Deity had betrayed them. The girl had no stomach for killing. And, worst of all, she'd had the Rage brewing within her.