Olympus by Night

Felix, Cliff Notes

After his ascension, Felix began leveraging his local celebrity status and began making a surprisingly good living as a physical trainer and pro fighter. Julie had his back of course, and wasn’t above throwing the Georgetown Sorority elites his way. As is the case with many a sorority girl, they have rich Daddies and lonely Mommies. After a few sessions, he would convince the girls to bring their mothers for a consult, and Viola! A new satisfied customer. As of now, Felix may be one the most well connected political insiders in D.C.

He made a splash recently at the annual D.C. Bachelor’s charity auction. The idea seemed simple enough, Felix would offer 6 months personal training to the highest bidder, and every penny would go to St Luke’s Children’s Hospital.

While not a State Dinner, the who’s who of American politics, journalism, and philanthropy always show up to show one another up. The event was going well, but the bids were getting weaker. Felix not being one to do anything by halves, took the matter into his own hands. When the time came to make his pitch, he “improvised.” To set the story straight, Felix did not give a raunchy lap dance to the First Lady to Right Said Fred’s “I’m too sexy.” He performed a tasteful striptease to Ludacris’s “What’s Your Fantasy?”

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Sparring

“Practice time, Mags,” Tee exclaimed loudly, in her native Spanish, while tossing my workout bag at me and knocking down the magazine I was trying to read.

“Oh, come on,” I complained back, also in Spanish. “Why?” I pushed off the bag and leaned back, spreading out on the sofa we had in front of the shop for guests to wait on and brandishing my magazine. “There’s good gossip in here. I’m behind. Don’t you want to know who Taylor Swift is dating now? Huh?”

“You know damn well I don’t give a crap. Besides, this place is dead as hell. What else you gonna do?”

“Read. A. Magazine,” I said, accenting each word.

“No!” she yelled back, picking up my workout bag from the floor and hitting me with it. “Now, get your fine white ass off the sofa and move!”

I groan aloud, but I get up and grab my bag. I hear Rafi chuckle to himself from behind his computer across the room as he watches me slump to my feet.

“What are you laughing at, vato?” Tee bit back with acid in her voice. “You’re up when she’s done.” I laughed out loud mockingly, without any shame whatsoever.

Rafi groaned out loud and shook his head as he adjusted his glasses. “I did a set yesterday!”

“And you’re doing a set today.”

“But…”

“I said you’re doing it, Rafi.” She used the tone. We both knew what it meant and shared a knowing glance with one another.

“Fine,” he said dejectedly before turning back to his laptop. “Do me a favor, Mags, and tire her out for me?” Tee shot him another glare.

“Oh, no, if I’m doing this – you’re doing this,” I said with a smile. He shot one back to me.
I got changed in the customer restroom. It wasn’t the cleanest place in the world, but it wasn’t too bad. Tee and I had decorated all the walls in here with graffiti art and some of our customers had signed their names and written messages here. It was nice to see words of encouragement and praise for the work we were doing – a couple crude comments about Tee and I being ‘doable,’ but most of it was good stuff. I’ll have to remember to scratch the other shit off the walls later.

A couple months after we first opened up the shop, one of our customers was mugged on his way home. Don’t misunderstand – that’s not entirely unexpected. Tattoo parlors aren’t exactly pillars of peacefulness. We’ve had a couple brawls in-shop and stuff – nothing major, nothing that Tee couldn’t handle – but this mugging really got underneath Tee’s skin – mostly because it was on the route that Rafi walked to get to the local coffee place in the mornings. From that point on, Tee decided that Rafi and I were going to be learning basic self-defense. She set up one of the smaller back rooms with a couple weights, a punching bag and this creepy combat dummy she found on eBay. Tee grew up in a rough neighborhood – her upbringing had given her some fancy moves with a switchblade – and she’d taken up boxing as a self-defense class during her time in prison. She knew her way around a fight and she was absolutely determined that Rafi and I knew at least the basics.
Luckily for me, I had a few divine advantages – I was quick as hell with some of the steadiest hands in history. She’d taught me how to shoot my Taser pretty straight, then she taught me how to throw a punch, then how to take a punch – that last one wasn’t particularly fun to learn. I had no clue what she was planning today.

I walked into our pathetic little gym – rocking my workout clothes and taking out my nose ring and ear piercings – Tee set up this cute little box for us to put our jewelry in when we were training. She’d changed into her gym gear too – tight yoga pants and a sports bra – and was standing, hands on hips, looking serious.

“What did I do?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to teach you,” she said, ignoring my jest. “You’d be terrible with a bowie knife, or anything longer than that, since you have the strength of a housecat.”

“Mean.”

“True,” she said, pointing at me. “So, I found this.” She walked over to a little table we had in there and grabbed something from it. It looked to me like two short, thin pipes latched together at the top, but after she popped off the latch, she flicked her wrist and a blade spun out from between with a decorative flourish. It was beautiful, impressive… and sexy as hell.

“Cool.”

“This is a balisong… butterfly knife… a veinte-y-nueve… It’s blade is nowhere near strong enough to do any major stabbing things, but with as quick as you are, you can get a dozen spinning deep cuts in before most gangbangers can even pull their pieces.” She spun it a couple of more times in her hands, then latched the handles in one fluid motion and stabbed the blade into the table dramatically and let a mischievous twinkle flash across her eyes. “Plus, you can some tricks and flips and feints. You know, frilly stuff to keep you happy.”

I smiled and shook my head at her. Typical Tee… She likes to mock and make fun, but it’s obvious how much thought she put into this. It’s been years since we left prison, but, as always, she’s still watching my back, protecting me from threats unseen. Best friend a god of thieves could ask for.

“These things have a tendency to bite back,” she said. “So, I found you a training one for now.” She picked up a similar looking knife, except this one had a blunt wooden fake blade where the sharp part should have been. She took a tube of lipstick and applied one edge of the wood with a liberal coating of cherry red.

“Is that mine?” I asked.

“Oh, you’d never wear anything this tacky. It’s Star’s. She left it here last time she was here and it’s a shit color, so she’s not getting it back.” I laughed aloud at that, then she got out another training knife and applied a different color lipstick – dark blue – to that. “This one you lifted from a customer, I think. You really gotta stop doing that, Mags.”

“My bad,” I raised my hands up with guilt. “Old habits.”

“OK,” she continued, handing me one of her training tools – the one with the red color. “You get your color lipstick on yourself, you lose. You wanna get as much of it as possible on me, of course, and avoid any of my blue stuff. Got it?”

“Got it,” I repeated back to her. “We gonna have some music going?”

Tee nodded. “I cued up some of your favorites,” she said, picking up her cellphone and flicking through the menus. A couple seconds later, the loud bass of electronic music started thumping through her portable speakers. She frowned for a moment and turned back to her phone to turn up the volume, so I quickly lashed out with my new blade, leaving a long streak of cherry red on her midriff just above her hip.

“Oh, that’s how it is today, huh?” she said, her voice much harder to hear now through the pulsing rhythms of blaring techno, but her wide smile obvious. “Prepare to turn blue, bitch.”

I chuckled, span my new toy around my hand and prepared to have some fun.

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list

actors
arnold schwarzenegger
jackie chan
scarlett johansson
adam sandler
singers
charlie daniels
lindsey stirling
jack black
writers
mercedes lackey
john ringo
terry brooks

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Alva's Resolve

“I will not lose my right to be with my lord.” Alva thinks to herself as she lay recovering in her Lord’s cave. He had fallen asleep almost an hour ago but Alva would not, just incase she snored or shifted in her sleep and disturbed her lord.

“So… you are given the honor of resting in Artemis’ Cave and you stay awake?” says a voice with humor in the darkness. “He is asleep you can speak without fear.”

Alva looks around but due to the darkness in the cave she can not see the owner of the voice. “Who are you to invade the Lord’s cave?”

“A friend, or rival however you want to see it. Rest you will not wake him.”

Alva did neither, but was still too wounded to try and go after the speaker. The next morning as the sun rose so did her Lord. Alva rose as well and left the cave feeling better noticing that while she was still sore she was not hurting. Her lord briefly glanced her way, it sent a shiver down her spine though she couldn’t tell if it was the thrill of being seen or fear. Then he was gone with his camera and bow.

Alva returned to D.C where she worked as a game developer for Blizzard. She mainly worked on World of Warcraft, and with the release of the next expansion coming soon it would be harder for her to get away. Luckily she mainly worked on the narrative of the game so it was easy to get ahead.

Once she got home and checked her mail of which there was little. She started planning on how to stay with her Lord. Though she came up with an answer quickly. She would have her own personal Wyld Hunt, and remove her mistake. She knew who was in the Followers of the Hunt but a couple of them would be hard targets. She planned, and for the first time since she learned of her Lords awaking she did not return to his cave for the next 3 months.

In those 3 months she was able to kill all but 3 of the cultists. Since they were smart and went to the police. Well 2 did, the last one was a Senator for Alabama and He returned home relinquishing his senate seat, which surprised and confused everyone. She would get him and the other 2 eventually but for now they would live.

When she returned to the forest she was met by the same voice that talked to her in the darkness.

“A little harsh don’t you think? Killing them.” Came a voice from the underbrush.

“Show yourself!” Alva growled.

“If you wish.” said the amused voice.

From the brush a large shaggy dog appeared.

“My name is Arawn, I am an Irish Wolfhound. I awakened when Zeno did.”

“Shh…” Alva said quickly, eyes darting and staining her ears to find out if anyone heard.

“Please.” mocked Arawn. “Do you think I would even talk to you if there was someone around.”

“We both die if he is found out. Though now I know his name now.”

“Really, you follow him like a pup and you didn’t even know his name?”

“I knew he was special and superior. That is all I needed to know.” Scoffed Alva.

“Well… since we both know he is special, needs to have a follower with him and he won’t let you near him…”

“He will, one day he will see my usefulness!”

“Well, until then” Arawn sighed. “Can you find out where he lives? Then can stay near him while he is in town and you can be near him when he is here in the woods.”

“Only, If you agree to contact me if he is ever in trouble”

“If I can… I am a dog.”

“Quick hide!” Arawn hisses as he jumps into the brush.

Alva looks behind her and sees her Lord walking up the path with another female. Jealously flares in her and before she can act, Arawn jumps into her, knocking her off the trail and starts to drag her.

“Let me go. I will kill that Bitch.” Alva growls.

“First that is or at least was a male, walking with Zeno. Second if we stay here he will see you and he probably will not be happy.” replies Arawn

Shock and disbelief cross Alva’s face but realizing that she is still on ice with her lord she relents and sneaks off with Arawn covering their trail.

“What was that?!” Noel squeaks.

“Probably nothing. Trees do make a sound when the fall just so you know Noel. Even if no one is watching them.” Replied Zeno. “Or it was a bear getting ready to eat you.”

“Very funny Zeno, but I think you would make a better meal.”

“Yes, but I am faster then you. Everyone knows that the slowest animals get eaten first. We have probably another 5-6 miles to go until we camp, shall we?”

“You know what.” Noel stammers. “I just remembered that I have a dead line coming up. So I have to get back to work.”

“What?!” Zeno says in mocking surprise. “But we have been planning this for the last month!”

“Fuck you, Zeno. You planned that some how.”

“No, but I will take advantage of it. Just to prove you are a city boy and you don’t belong out here.”

“Fine, you win, but I better get a picture of a bear next time.” Noel scowls.

“Yea, yea. Lets get you back to your car.”

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Zeno's Rage

Just finished dropping off pics at the Objection! Magazine office. Noel told me about some weird group that appeared on Facebook and that has been passing out fliers through out DC, apparently it is called “Followers of the Hunt.” Not much is posted about the leader other then it is some female who wears camo… If it is the bitch that has been intruding on my hunts… well she might just finally get the attention that she wants. They meet monthly on the full moon at Rock Creek Park. Which is nice since the full moon is tonight.

Well i have been circling the park for the last 3 hours and it is almost 2200, I have not seen any gatherings.

“You! Are you here to hear the words of the Huntress?” yells a dude wearing full camo, carrying a dead rabbit. “If so you need to bring an offering, the meeting starts at 2300 on trail 5 marker 14. If not get lost this is the Night of Hunts and outsiders are not welcome.”

Glaring, “You follow a female and call yourself a hunter? Pathetic!” Then Zeno disappears into the forest. and follows the enraged hunter stealthily.

Once I got to the meeting spot following the clueless hunter, I saw at least 20 people there and a pile of “offerings” on the side of the path. I also noticed police hiding on the outskirts of the meeting. Then She appeared, the bitch… The only reason she lived to speak was that I did not have my bow and the officers surrounding the area.

“Hunters… Welcome!” Alva yelled. “Tonight is a blessed night. For we are in the presence of the Hunt Master!” Stealthily looking in my direction.

Pure rage erupted from me and all of the Predators in DC roared for a Hunt was about to begin. Everyone in the forest felt the eyes of a predator. The cops fled as they are not true hunters this night.

Zeno then walks out of the forest though only Alva sees him through the bloodlust the oozes from him. “So, you still make your self a nuance, woman! Fine, I will acknowledge your right as a hunter if you can survive the night as prey, and you can keep this cult. Otherwise I will finally be rid of your impetus nature.”

Fear began radiating from Alva as she turned and ran. Only then did the other hunters start feeling the Hunt in them and they chased her.

Two days later Zeno returned to his cave. To his surprise a Alva was there highly injured, but alive.

“You survived… I will permit you one night in my cave to recover, and you may keep your fools group, but don’t get any ideas you must earn more nights in the cave and if your cult caused me problems” turning and death glaring Alva, “I will be the one to Hunt you, not a group of armatures and house pets.” Then Zeno gets his bow from his cave and goes on his own hunt.

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Magpie's Revenge

Dr. James Weiss walked to his car and immediately dropped all of his papers. Carved into the hood of his beautiful, silver Aston Martin, in big, scorched letters as if put there by a heavy duty welding torch was the word ‘BITCH.’ He screamed and cried as his fat little face turned red with impotent fury.

Across the parking lot, Ophelia Olympian shoved her welding torch into her backpack and smiled from ear to ear.

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Zeno Parkour

Top 3 places to parkour by Zeno
City Center DC Mall: good obstacles with traversal between floors, and the entire time you are there you get to play tag with security. (don’t get tagged)
Rock Creek Park: Mostly just fun to mess with other people but it is big.
Downtown DC: Parked cars, people, and everything else.

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Tues 22-09-15 VLog
GG quiet time

GGLoveDiva Update.

They’re at it again… Ophelia and Zeno. Arguing about the same things. sigh Days like today I wish I was still a pro gamer. At least the only screaming I’d hear are my opponents and my marines dying. I don’t know. I never really talked about this to anyone. Better than keeping it bottled up like I used to. I love my siblings. Ophelia has done SO much for me.

During my time as a shut in, she would always make sure I was ok. She would check in on me constantly. Nag me to do better at school. Which I guess leads me to see Zeno’s point. She tries so hard to act like Mom or a mom. Maybe too hard? I don’t know…

I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, because I’m not, but she isn’t Mom. She has to realize that, right? I know I am no psychologist, but I feel like Ophelia tries to go above and beyond what Mom was in an effort to spite her or prove to her that we don’t need her? But over compensation isn’t the answer.I know I am still 18 and have a stuff to learn, so who knows how much meaning my words will have on her. I guess I should talk to her about it either way. I know she is 8 years older than me, which is why I don’t see her as a mother, she is still my older sister. I guess I am not helping much either in my own way of allowing her to think she being a mom instead of a care taker and a sister. Which there is nothing wrong with that, i just wonder if she will see that too.

sigh

Anyways, It’s been a month since I started college. Classes are super fun and I am learning a lot about robotics and circuitry. I’ve started to tinker a bit after class. I think for my final project I am going to make a simple robot that can avoid walls. Or maybe one that can pick up something as heavy as a text book. Or maybe one that moves to someone who calls them and prioritizes them in order of who called first? There are sooooo many opportunities. Maybe I will do all 3 in 1.

Oops, gotta go, Ophelia just walked into my room. Guess I’ll go have a talk with her.

Hey sis, can I talk to you…

video cuts

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Sass meets.... the Pharaoh

Well today was weird… I met the Pharaoh, who happened to be Jarred from my classes (eyes glaze over) he is so dreamy. Wait… what!? Damn he also seems to be able to turn off my brain just by thinking of him (eyes glaze over) those abs!!!! DAMN it. I also found out that Horace didn’t know who… the Pharaoh… was. That worked I didn’t think about Jared (eyes glaze over) I wouldn’t mind him wrecking me. @#$%!!!!! ALSO the Pharaoh seems to have the same affect on Val but she uses math. I need to find something as a distraction so I can reality check myself. Now that the Pharaoh has been found what am I supposed to do? I guess I should go talk to Mummy(heh).

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Session 2

I am betrayed.

Perhaps this was an inevitability – my brainpower is comparatively vast, my thoughts have no limit, there are corners of my mind that even I have yet to explore – of course, the only thing that could have betrayed me without me foreseeing it and planning for it in advance was a deep, dark, uncovered corner of my own impossibly brilliant head.

But, damn it, damn it, damn it, why?

So, the pharaoh has revealed himself – well, sort of. Jared Stevenson, a perfectly average teenage boy who would be completely uninteresting and entirely pointless if he weren’t destined to be the most important person in the world.

And the worst things of course, that some stupid, ignorant, disobedient corner of my brain is screaming at me for writing even the simplest of unkind remarks about him – and another part is desperately trying to write his name in curly writing and draw little hearts all over it. I HATE IT. HATE IT.

Right, enough feeling sorry for myself and time to draw up battle plans.

Jared is destined to have four brides – (well, three brides and one riled up bitch who will fight his brain-raping magic until the day she dies) – each representing four holy symbols of Ancient Egypt – the staff, the sword, the cup and the ring. There’s lots of symbology there – Dan Brown would be having a field day. Most notably is, of course, that the symbols are the ancestors of modern day playing card symbols, which are, in turn, derived from pagan tarot cards – brought to Europe in the 14th century from – you guessed it – Egypt. Luckily, my abuela left a set behind in the apartment – she loved all of that curandera, eggs-under-the-bed stuff – so I’ve been studied them in my spare time, trying to find patterns or underlying occult secrets to them. I’d previously dismissed them as Abrahamic pseudo-magic, but now I’m convinced there’s something more sinister, more legitimate, with their creation and use.

It’s also worth looking at the symbology associated with the Queen of Clubs – since my role as Jared’s consort of the Staff makes that the card most connected with myself – Argine, latin for queen (latin queen?), mother of intuition, associated with mental or psychic work, most resistant to change, has a quest for knowledge, and is impatient and intolerant of ignorance. Gods, don’t you just fucking hate it when thousands-year-old mysticism explains you a fucking tee?

Wynis is embracing her role completely – consort of the Cup, a.k.a. the Queen of Hearts – with nauseating results. She’s probably already gushing about Jared in her diary, making him little gifts, and daydreaming of how she’ll be his one and only – even though he clearly and obviously has THREE other women. How can someone so readily accept destiny, as fucked up as it is? Why is she willing to throw away everything she’s built because something as vague and ill-defined as fate tells her she has to? Is it the fog in the brain that affects my mental faculties so much? Wynis is clever-ish, but is it my intellect that has allowed me to keep these feelings somewhat in check, while Wynis is overcome and quickly conquered by this confusing haze of love and lust and duty and desire that is swirling around in our heads? Hopefully, Sass will be less easily swayed – though regardless of whether she is or not, it will prove an interesting glimpse into Jared’s hold over us. Perhaps with enough control subjects, I can devise a way to break free of it – or at least ignore it completely.

But, there’s that little voice again – telling me that I don’t want to do that. That I want to spend every moment with him, and serve him, and bear his children, and be his forever. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Distance. Distance is key. I’ll keep my distance as much I’m able… and I can’t let the feelings bottle up, otherwise they’ll explode outwards like during our first meeting, like shaking soda in a bottle. I need a safe outlet that can’t be compromised – the hummingbirds will serve this purpose. No-one else (at least as far as I’m currently aware, though Wynis’ father is a distinct possibility) can talk to them, so my secrets and weaknesses are much safer than they would be in a computer or regular speech-based form. Get out the emotions, start every day with a fresh head and approach all of this from a logical, fact-based standpoint. I’ve heard rumor of a purple concoction, based on old pagan magics, to allow its drinker a dreamless sleep, which is also worth investigating. A brain, if denied conscious release, may instead rely on subconscious release, which in turn would trigger endorphins while sleeping, which could result in undesirable side-effects such as somnambulism – not good. When I’m forced to close distance with Jared, I can solve complicated mathematical derivatives in my head – if fate’s going to make my brain foggy, just fill it up with stuff, so that the fog can’t get in in the first place.

Think everything through – double check everything. Never make a mistake.

Fight this, Valeria, with every fiber of your being. YOU ARE NOT PROPERTY.

Don’t ever let anyone or anything or any god tell you otherwise.

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