Intro: A Challenge

Netherworld:

Acheron Killgore let out a light yawn, stretching his arms high over his head as he slowly strolled through the corridors of his family's home. He'd had a hell of a night, in the best way possible. His father, Erasmus, had continued the recent trend of being incomparably awesome and had generously offered up the life-force to Mortis in the Spawning Pits for him to revive Kelda and Juno. And of course, he had had to celebrate their return the best way he knew how. So, really things were looking up even if he wasn't at the absolute top of the food-chain anymore, so to speak. He'd have to come up with some way to give back though, his pride wasn't going to let him just keep taking without- While his eyes were looking upwards something caught his advancing feet, rudely ruining his moment of serenity as he pitched forward almost in slow-motion to land flat on his face.

A feminine giggle hit his ears, bluntly informing him of whom he had to blame for this small humiliation, as if he really needed any clues. "Damn it Persephone, you do realize that tripping people for no reason is fucking childish?"

On cue, his sister came into his line of sight as he was picking himself up off the floor, her light violet, short heels clicking rhythmically on the black stone. "Oh come on Acheron, it's a little sister's job to play pranks on her older brother, and for him to do so back. Or have you forgotten about dumping fire-pepper into my favorite bra while I was sleeping?"

He started softly laughing, the memory cheering him greatly as he climbed to his feet and locked eyes with his sister. "Well it's your fault for leaving it out for me to tamper with. Besides, you deserved it for flaunting those boulders on your chest. You make my Mistresses fell inadequate."

A fake frown crept across Persephone's undeniably gorgeous face. "Well that's not my fault. I didn't choose to be born as a ravishing goddess." The young woman cut him off before he could shoot back. "Anyway, I didn't stop you so we could just trade insults. Do you think you could go and fetch father from his machine shop? I have something I want to talk to the both of you about."

His left eyebrow twitched upwards. "And, is there a reason you can't just follow me there?"

The young woman just shook her head, silver tresses flying about with the motion. "Not one I'm going to tell you."

With that, Persephone spun on her dainty heels and strut off. He had to wonder, did his sister know just how much she swung her hips? Because she reminded him of Juno, and not in the funny way, more of the slutty way.

On his hip, Soul Calibur sent a query to his mind. "So, are we going to do what the little diva asks?"

He shrugged as he started walking towards his father's forge/machine shop. "I guess I might as well. It's been two months since Pandora stopped being a fun place to be. I could certainly use the action."

As he went he started to think about the changes the encounter with "modern" technology had made upon the Netherworld. Small things mostly, electric lights dotted the walls everywhere except in Erasmus's own room. Apparently his father preferred fire-light. Air-conditioning, mostly for the bedrooms, had come in. No internet yet, as no one in the Netherworld had the slightest idea of how to bridge the dimensional gap constantly for digital data. By far the greatest shift was in the forge he just now started to descend into. No longer was it a place where his father beat great chunks of metal into shape, well not just that anymore. A whole separate wing had been made, filled with so many tiny parts his head started to hurt just from looking around; the complete opposite of his father. Erasmus reveled in it all and applied himself to this "engineering" and "mechanics" with a daunting tenacity.

Entering the "machine shop" he called out into the metal mess. "Hey dad, where you at?"

The answer came shortly. "Back here Acheron, at my bench."

So prompted he started to pick his way through the scattered equipment, slowly working his way towards the back of the workshop. Erasmus was hunched over the bench fiddling with some unknown contraption or collection of parts. It looked rather small though, in comparison to when his father was tinkering with Lisa's AMP suit, much to the young woman's alarm.

The seated god pointed off to his right, not taking his red eyes off of the collection of parts. "Can you hand me that file there? The one at the far end of the bench."

Still not certain which tool that was he picked one up at random and placed it in his father's waiting hand. Whatever he picked was apparently good enough, because Erasmus made no complaint before using the file to make correct some impossibly tiny flaw in whatever he was working on.

The god started to assemble the device, speaking while he did. "So, what purpose does your visit serve? As much as I would like to think otherwise I find it unlikely that you would come all the way down here just to socialize."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well a certain prissy diva wants me to collect you. She wants to see us both out on the…" He trailed off as he finally recognized the shape of what his father was making. "Is that a gun?"

Erasmus slid the last piece into place and almost reverently lifted the finished weapon. "Indeed it is. After all, one has to adapt to the world around them, no? And I of course, put more trust in a weapon that I have crafted personally." The god slid the firing chamber open and closed a few times. "I've assembled this once before in order to get it evaluated under RDA military records. It goes without saying that they possessed no equivalent arms, but I was able to obtain a rough estimate of its firing strength." Erasmus set the gun on his hip, where it stuck with a metallic clack. "According to those guesses, and the Navi target I tested this gun out on, this hand-sized tool fires mystic slugs roughly the strength of an eight hundred and eighty millimeter bazooka, very much fitting the moniker of 'hand-cannon.' Just like the gun I modeled it after, a Desert Eagle."

He had to repeat part of that. "Eight hundred and…" He shook his head. "No such thing as overkill, right?"

A ghost of a smile flashed his way from within his father's helm. "Indeed. Now, you were saying something about Persephone wanting to see us?"

He shrugged. "Out on the veranda. I have no idea what she wants beyond that, but, well, I'm bored."

The god chuckled. "As good a reason as any. Now…" Erasmus set a hand on his shoulder. "… Let us be on our way then."

He started to speak. "What are you talking-"

He yelled in surprise as the floor dropped out from under him. Sure, he did the same sort of thing all the time on his own, but that was when he was actually expecting it. His father's manipulation of the Netherworld on the other hand, that was always unexpected. And before he could blink he somehow wound up out on the veranda, in front of a very surprised Persephone.

Shaken from the impromptu semi-teleportation, he nonetheless gestured towards Erasmus. "One father, as requested. Now what the hell did you drag us out here for?"

Persephone gestured towards the Netherworld Gate, opening it. "Step on through, it'll be easier to show you."

His sister leaped through the Gate without another word, leaving both him and his father alone on the veranda in a moment of awkward silence; until Erasmus let out a short "heh" and leapt through without a word as well.

He muttered to himself. "That girl really likes getting people to jump through hoops." And he followed as well.

Mordor: Ash Plains

Persephone Killgore found herself in a grand position. She felt it high time to prove herself when it came to Overlording, and what better way to do that than show up both her father and brother at the same time. Of course she would have to play things smart, but she had been planning this little charade for months now, long before her father and brother had overcome their initial issues with each other. True, those issues wouldn't have really come into play even if they hadn't been resolved. Around her grim, desolate land of Mordor sprawled to the far off range of knife-toothed mountains. Grey ash swirled with the slightest motion, annoyingly sticking to her light purple shoes and the hem of her dress. The light of the sun was dimmed by still more choking ash, rendering the land even grimmer. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to linger here a second longer than necessary.

The low whirl of magic signaled Erasmus's arrival and she turned to him. "So, what do you think daddy?"

The blood-eyed god gazed around slowly for a few moments before answering. "I think, that you aught to wait a few seconds for Acheron to get here. Save yourself the trouble of explaining yourself twice. Although I imagine that is what you were going to do anyway."

She did indeed wait for Acheron to show, only a scant second later, before speaking again. "Well, what do you think of the place?"

Her brother answered the query this time while staring around at the barren ash land, and if anything he sounded quite unimpressed. "This had better not be your idea of a joke."

She gestured around. "Of course not, brother. This is Mordor, and I think it fair to assume that there is nothing that any of us would want here. But, this is a small part of a world much larger, one the people call 'Middle Earth." She let out a short giggle. "I was going to bring it to heel by myself, but then I had the idea that, maybe we could do it together, in a sort of competitive arrangement."

Acheron perked up immediately. "Competition? Sounds like my kind of game, if you explain the terms before I agree."

She smiled, now was the time to set the bait. "It's a simple prospect. I name three kingdoms of Middle Earth and each of us take one. The first to fully conquer their respective territory wins." She nodded towards her father. "Daddy, since you have a severe advantage over both me and Acheron I would suggest you take the realm of Moria. To further level the playing field I won't tell you where it is, you'll have to find it yourself."

Erasmus nodded slowly. "That does seem fair. You seem to have done your homework thoroughly on this matter."

The compliment was accurate, but she already knew that, so she turned to her brother. "As for you, I think you would like Gondor. It's the largest kingdom of men this land has to offer but it's fairly compact. Unlike father I'll give you a map. I'd wager you could use it."

Acheron grumbled slightly. "A pointing finger would be too much effort huh? Whatever, I can handle a map. Fork it over."

A snap of her fingers caused the pre-prepared map to 'poof' into existence in front of her brother, who eagerly snatched it out of the air. So far her plan was going perfectly. Now all she had to do was talk up the challenge she was setting for herself, when in actuality it would be easier than breaking a twig.

She spoke, trying to sound as modest as possible. "As for me, I think I'll take Rohan. It's not quite as powerful as Gondor and they suffered some serious losses in the last war to hit the land, but they are very large kingdom in terms of land. I'll have my work cut out for me chasing them all down."

Acheron laughed. "Just don't ruin your heels with all that walking."

She smiled to herself. Acheron bought it, but her father was a much harder mark to read. He likely wouldn't say anything even if he suspected foul play though. She was still his little girl, even if she was almost eighteen.

She smiled publically, containing her malicious glee. "So, the terms are acceptable to everyone?"

Erasmus nodded. "They are to me. Acheron?"

Her brother shrugged. "Works for me."

She chuckled lightly. "It's on then. May the best Overlord win!"

Erasmus half-turned away, towards the north-west. "I wish you both the best of luck then. Farewell!"

With that parting word her father leapt off into the sky, touching down barely within sight off in the distance before vanishing completely.

Acheron spoke briefly. "Hey, you know where he's supposed to be going, right? Is he…?"

She sighed, genuinely vexed. "He is going the right way, regrettably."

Her brother looked off after their father for a moment, and then turned back to her. "Say, want to make this a little more interesting? A side-bet, just between us. Because I'm sure one of us is inevitably going to get stuck in dead last on this."

Surprised, but only just, she was cautious. "That would depend what you have in mind."

Acheron sounded quite smug. "Loser has to streak through the countryside of the Overworld back home, stark naked, one edge of the map to the other."

She held out her hand. "You'll regret this."

Acheron shook the offered hand. "I doubt that very much." Her brother started to jog away. "Get yourself ready to taste bitter defeat!"

She smiled as she watched Acheron go. Yes, she had given him a map and he was following it, but that wasn't going to do him any good, not yet anyway. She had enchanted the map to send him off in the wrong direction for a whole day. After all, she had never said that she would point him in the right direction.

She laughed softly to herself, out loud. "Ah, this is almost going to be too easy. Even if I weren't just going to stroll on into Edoras, mind-slave their king, and call it a victory I'd clinch this. Moria is huge and utterly infested with goblins, and Gondor, well, Gondor has nothing extra special about it but the extra day should give me all the time I need!"

Her laugh turned into a semi-demented cackle and soared in volume. Visions of crushing victory filled her mind to the brim; her father's grudging acceptance that she was no longer a little girl, Acheron's sullen expression of shock, and the humiliation of sending her brother streaking through crowded rural areas. Oh the delight she was going to have.

Calming herself slightly she started to talk to herself. "Now where did I stash that horse? I am NOT ruining these heels by walking to Rohan…"