The constant fighting gets old after a while. Even the God of War needs a break occasionally. Honestly, I’m on vacation right now. But Hermes popped in with a letter from dear old Dad, Zeus, who is demanding that I do some public relations work. I’m pretty sure he means damage control in my case. He thinks I like to wreak havoc wherever I go. Well, obviously I don’t, if I’m sitting on the white sands of a beach right now, drinking Mai Tai’s and enjoying the view of beautiful women playing beach volleyball.
I debated about how much to tell him. “There’s been an…incident at the OA. I thought I had seen Charlie with Ophelia from HR at the restaurant where I was having dinner, but I wasn’t totally for sure.”
I’m immortal. You can’t kill me, just like I can’t kill you. The worst we can do to each other is seriously maim or injure. Recovery might take a little while, but we’d survive. I strongly suggest you get over your daddy issues and focus on the problem at hand.
The woman jumped like she’d been hit by one of Zeus’ bolts. “Holy…don’t you know how to knock?” “Don’t you know how to stay out of the boss’ office?” I countered. “The bitch is dead,” the woman retorted. “Good riddance.”