Trouble in Town Pt. 01

Silly humans.

Ares walked through the streets of New York, an economic hub in the United States of America and indeed, the world, turning his nose up at every human he passed by...which happened to be a lot.

Of course, as he walked, most of them had the sense to give way for him. He stood at a commanding height of 6ft.6', he was heavily built; his biceps bulged and his broad chest threatened to tear open the shirt he had on, his ink black hair was tied up in a messy bun behind his head, exposing a sharp jaw-line, thin lips, a roman nose, intense, dark eyes and full, finely-arched brows. He would have passed for handsome, if a thin scar didn't run down his cheek from the arch of his brow. He knew he made an intimidating form whenever he was on earth, but he honestly couldn't help it. he was the god of war for a reason. He wasn't supposed to fit in with these people. He saw the way they stared at him when they walked by, it was one of the reasons why he had a permanent scowl on, so that nobody thought he was approachable.

He had been on earth for about two days now, and he was damn near sick of it. If he didn't have some business here, he would have long returned to Olympus, his home. However, he was drawn to New York City. Being the god of war meant that Ares was to blame for so many human wars over the years. He had had many he was proud of, but he had particularly found delight in the first and second world wars. They had been different from the others, humans had become technologically savvy, they had fought with bombs and guns. Nothing made his heart swell with pride more than thoughts of the chaos and destruction that had trailed those wars...since then though, he hadn't had the kind of wars he wished for. There were small invasions of countries here and there, but those were no wars...still, he was drawn to violence. That was what had brought him to New York.

See, not only was New York an economic hub, it also had more than its own fair share of crime, and it created a breeding ground for all forms of violent activities...things which brought a smile upon Ares' otherwise frowning face. Crime meant guns, crime meant killings, crime meant blood. There were turf wars, power plays, betrayals. No other part of the world served it hotter than New York did, and it was the reason Ares had found himself here.

He planned to stay for as long as the tensions remained at the present tempo. It had increased drastically in the last year, the City was pretty much under siege, but there were no formal declarations of such. The war was being fought underground. It was no World War, but it certainly sufficed.

He found himself standing in front of a restaurant in downtown New York. It was no ordinary restaurant though, no, he could feel the animosity from within- the tension. Promises of violence covered the entire place. It was just what he needed.

He opened the door and stepped into the fancy restaurant, almost snickering at how fancy it was, as opposed to the level of rot within. Typical. Humans always shrouded their evil actions with aesthetic beauty.

The restaurant was almost empty, which was quite odd considering the time of day. He walked to the closest chair, his eyes scanning the area. The people who soiled this place were nowhere in plain sight. Of course, they usually performed their business within the establishments. They had secret rooms for these things.

He took a seat, paying no attention to the staff, who all regarded him with apprehension. He was at a table for almost five minutes, waiting to be attended to by staff who were far too cowardly to approach. While he admitted that he looked intimidating, surely, it wasn't so bad that these people wouldn't approach him. Wasn't it their job to do so? Weren't there humans who had similar appearance to him?

By the time someone finally took up the difficult task of belling the cat, he had lost interest with them...even worse, the sacrificial lamb was as gutless as ever. He was a boy. He looked no older than what they referred to as a teenager, a lanky thing indeed. Ares watched him, with barely held in contempt, as he stuttered a greeting to him. What sort of humans existed these days? How had such a cowardly soul gotten any form of employment? Nothing disgusted him more than the rank smell of fear oozing from a human.

He regarded the boy briefly before speaking in a deep baritone, "I want to see your manager." There was no way he would be dealing with this boy. He wanted to see whoever ran this place, he expected that it would be one of the men who exuded the strength that had drawn him to this place.

"S...sir, I don't...I don't believe that will be possible, sir."

Ares turned his gaze toward him, "And why not?" he asked in a hard voice.

The boy seemed to swallow, shaky eyes looked toward what Ares assumed was the staff area, perhaps for some form of encouragement from his colleagues, "The manager is busy, sir."

Getting increasingly irritated at the mere presence of the boy, Ares said coldly, "I would suggest, you go into your backroom, and get me your manager, before I give you something to really shake you to your bones."

The boy's eyes widened dramatically; it looked like his eyes were going to fall out their sockets and Ares, for the first time, seized some seconds of comic relief, although, his face gave away no such thing. In a flash, the boy scurried off and Ares leaned into the chair, waiting for the real boss. There was dynamite in this place and he planned to set it off before he left.

About a minute after he sent the boy scurrying off, his ears picked up the sound of an approaching person. His gaze looked toward the direction it came from. Those didn't sound like a man's movement. They were different. The clicking was unlike a man's, there was a rush to the movement. Before he caught sight of the person coming, he knew it was no man, and then he caught sight of her...

Unconsciously, Ares found himself sitting up as the most gorgeous human he had ever laid eyes on, approached him, a scowl planted upon her beautiful face. She walked with a confidence that could only be possessed by a man, the click came from a pair of five-inch heels upon graceful feet and powerful legs which were fully exposed in a blue skirt that barely scraped her knees. Full breasts jutted out from a chiffon top, loosely tucked into the skirt. Her auburn hair lay in waves upon her shoulders. Hard blue eyes were trained on him as she made her approach, his eyes took in her angelic face; that upturned nose, pout lips, high cheek-bones, and damn, those eyes, all wrapped in smooth, creamy skin. Zeus help him, such a specimen did not belong on such an unworthy plane.

She stopped in front of his table, her aura almost knocking him off with sheer strength. She had to be the first human who hadn't cowered at the sight of him since he got here. She had the balls of four men this one, which made her even more alluring to him, "Good day, sir." She began, her voice hard and unyielding, "Might you be the reason my staff came into my office like he had been harassed?"

Ares had to applaud his aloofness. Being a god had its advantages, and one of them was that he could control his expressions, even when he was totally floored by a person, "Are you the manager?" he sent back at her

"Yes, and who are you to ask for me?"

Ares couldn't believe her guts. He regarded her form, without those heels, she was barely 5ft.4', even in this chair, he was three times her size. Did she not notice that or she was just courage-filled? "Well, when I asked for the manager, I didn't have one such as you in mind." he responded pointedly.

Yes, she was strong and assertive, but she wasn't violent. She wasn't the one he was here for, she wasn't the one whose thirst for blood called to him from this place...still, he was willing to entertain himself with her till he saw who he was here for.

If her frown could deepen, it certainly did at his dismissive words, "Well, sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I am the manager of this establishment and I will not have one such as you, come in here, harass my staff and insult me. So, please, I ask that you leave. Immediately."

His eyes scanned the entire room, "For an establishment this empty, I would think you wouldn't be quick to chase away paying customers."

"Just because it has a few coins, doesn't mean we need such patronage. There are other ways to order meals without harassing staff, and making ridiculous requests. Now, as I said, I request that you kindly leave this establishment, before I have you physically thrown out."

He couldn't help but cock a brow. Such a spitfire in a body so small, he could feel a light stirring in his loins as he observed her and the powerful aura that oozed from her. She was birthed of a line of fighters, a powerful clan indeed. He had never assumed himself to be one taken by strong-headed women, he might be the god of war, but nothing irked him more than being subjected to fighting a woman for dominance. Women yielded to him, they submitted to his power. This lady barely even shook at the sight of him. He was beyond impressed, and in that moment, he decided he liked her very much.

He leaned into the seat and folded his arms defiantly, "I would like to see you try."

The whimpering staff, who she had come with, glanced at her. He looked genuinely surprised that she would even dare to challenge a man so imposing. He looked scared for her, but the warrior beside him had her hard eyes trained on Ares. She looked enraged by his audacity. Her eyes burned with a fire that intrigued him and made him wonder of what those stunning blues would look like when they were burning with unbridled lust and fiery passion. He felt the uncomfortable stir once again, and this time, it came with a hardening of his length.

She turned on her heels- literally, and walked back to the direction she had come from, giving him a great view of her curvy behind as she did. She was perfection in human form. Ares had to force back a groan at the unintentional teasing this woman was doing to him. He had damn near forgotten his purpose of being here since she graced his presence.

It took him a quarter of a second to realize that the whimpering waiter was still standing next to him, he shot him a glare and the boy scampered away immediately.

It didn't take long before the woman of his fantasies came back, this time, she was escorted by a rather large man, who seemed equal in size to Ares. Oh, she came prepared. But this wasn't the man he was here for. This one was just a lackey, extremely prone to violence, but he barely had the smarts to plan a war. This was a foot soldier. What did he have to do to meet with the brain behind the dastardly plans being cooked up in this establishment?

The big guy walked up to the table and stood next to it, "Sir, I believe it's time for you to leave." he said, in a hard voice.

Ares looked the man over. He wasn't one who loved to cause trouble- that was his brother, Hermes's thing, but he did have the right to feel insulted that they would send this small fry to him, "I haven't even been served, it's hardly time for me to leave." He replied casually, his gaze moving to the stunning female who had brought in this boulder. She had her hands crossed against her ample chest and stared at him pointedly.

"We're not open for business." Big and burly stated as he reached down and grabbed Ares by the shoulder.

He could tolerate the fact that this guy was their chosen weapon against him, tolerate that he thought he could just bulldoze him out of the way, but there was no way, Ares was going to allow a measly human lay his filthy hands on him. He looked down at the hand on his shoulder and at the big guy.

With one hard stare, cracking of bones melded into loud screams of pain as the human dropped his arm from Ares' shoulder and held on to it. Ares rose from his seat, ignoring the shocked look of the woman. As he stood, the big guy fell to his knees and the woman stepped back, for the first time since she had appeared before him, he sensed fear in her aura. The big guy whimpered as Ares approached until he stood over him. he bowed his head in reverence.

He looked so much better in this position- subservient toward him, like everyone who reveled in violence, "Never, ever, put your hands on me. Ever."

The man whimpered in response.

He looked up at the woman, her expression was now one of genuine confusion and maybe some level of curiosity. She didn't look scared of him anymore. Zeus help him, she was perfect! He was distracted by a groan from the guard. It was a loud reminder that if he stayed here any longer, he would have quite the audience. He hadn't come here to make himself the center of attention.

"I'll see you around, sweetheart." He said to the auburn-haired beauty, just before he turned on his heels and walked out of the restaurant. Once he stepped out, the guard stopped whimpering as his broken arm was back in place. Ares walked away, his thoughts fixed on the pretty woman, among other things. He still had to get his day with the harbingers of the looming turf war. The only thing he was certain of once he left that restaurant, was that his object of admiration was related in some way to those people and he was yet to decide if it was a good or bad thing.

*****

Anselm didn't believe her...then again, could she even believe herself?

Alma had spent the last eight or so hours, going through various sources online that dealt with the supernatural. It had never been a topic she was particularly interested in, hell, she didn't even believe in the concept of the supernatural, two days ago. Fast forward till today though, and that man had her head in a twist

Was he a man though?

She was starting to doubt she had seen what she did, especially as there was no substantial proof to back up what she thought she had seen. Dimitri's arm was fine, even more, Dimitri had no recollection of being harmed. It was like a scene from a horrible movie. She had spent the rest of yesterday, thinking to herself about the strange occurrence...even more, about the man.

There was something about him that called to her. she found it somewhat funny because he wasn't her type- or so she thought. She had grown up around dangerous men, men who took things rather than asked for them. Men who had no regard for anything whatsoever, that was the environment she was familiar with. it was an environment she despised. She had sworn to herself that she could never end up with anyone who reminded her of this life. That guy was an exact replica of the kind of man she had sworn to never get involved with...yet, the minute she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction like nothing she had ever felt and it worried her.

He was everything she was supposed to feel nauseated by, instead, all she felt was some annoying need. She had been drawn by the intensity in his dark eyes, it was unexplainable what she saw in those eyes, it held so many promises of danger, of excitement. It was almost impossible to maintain her professional stance. She had had to reign in resistance from the deepest part of her to focus on the actual reason she had gone to him...and then when he spoke...

"Fernando." She called to her driver, "How long till we get to Misha's place?" she asked him. She was intent on getting her mind off of the events of yesterday and off the man as well. Spending time with her cousin distracted her enough. Misha was the only person in her family that was fairly normal, the only one who didn't have a gun in every room in her house. When she was with Misha, she forgot the fact that she belonged to one of the deadliest crime families in all of America. Misha grounded her, made her feel normal...well, as close to normal as she could get.

"A few minutes, ma'am."

She settled into her seat and stared out the window. Just as her eyes fluttered close, the car came to a sharp halt, toppling her over. She grabbed on to the handle of the car in panic, "Fernando, what's...?" a round of bullets penetrated the car and Fernando's body in the driver's seat.

Alma watched with widened eyes as her driver's body went limp. Fuck! What was going on now?

The sharp sound of breaking glass hit her ear drums and her eyes shot up to the backseat window. A masked man with a gun reached in and unlocked the car, pulling the door open. Alma found herself reciting the prayers of the rosary as the man reached in and grabbed her by the arm. Shit! She wasn't about to be collateral damage for Anselm's war. She should have taken the guards he offered her.

She screamed as the man dragged her out the safety of the car, "Shut up, bitch!" he ordered. He pulled her along even as she tried to fight him off, only stopping when he grabbed her by the hair and forced her neck backwards, "Keep trying to fight me off, and I might just knock you out." He ground out to her face.

She glared at him defiantly, if she was going to die today, she was going to die fighting. Anselm would knock her teeth out if he found that she became a whimpering mess in the face of his enemies, "I'd like to see you try." she replied

The man looked pissed off and for a split second, she thought he was going to hit her, but one of his men distracted him, "Hey, boss says we don't touch the hostage."

Oh great, someone had the sense to ensure she wasn't rough handled. Her captor grit his teeth, "You're one lucky bitch." He dragged her along and pushed her into the car. Shit! That hurt

She found herself surrounded by three men in the back, two others were in front, "Mikey, go!" one of the men at the back ordered.

As the car screeched off the road, Alma cursed Anselm under her breath, it was his damned fault she was in this situation. If he didn't go about making random enemies in New York, maybe she would be safe. This enemy wasn't random though, she noticed the tattoo on the wrist of one of them; a scorpion wrapped around a cross. These were Romero's guys. Of course, he would be the one to take a low blow. Romero wasn't particularly famous for doing anything with honor; when he wanted to attack, he came at family. He weakened his rivals by hitting them in their Achilles heel. If only he knew he had come at the wrong family. By the time Anselm got wind of what had happened, Romero's house would become a cemetery in a matter of minutes. He was small fry.

"Yo, who the fuck is that?" she heard the guy sitting next to her ask

She looked up, but the angle she sat in, ensured she couldn't see much, "Is he crazy?" the guy in the passenger's seat asked.

The driver began blaring his horn loudly, "Hey, get the fuck out the road!" the guy sitting closest to the door in the backseat shouted through the window

"This motherfucker's lost his mind." Another said as he cocked his gun and pointed it at the man.

Now, Alma was really curious. She stretched her neck a little more and her eyes widened when she finally saw the hulking mass of muscle that had been in their restaurant just yesterday. He stood in the middle of an empty road, just waiting there like it was nothing. Why was he standing in the middle of the road? Had he lost his damned mind? How was he even here?

If the sight of a gun pointing straight at him was supposed to rattle him, he didn't show it.

"Mikey, run that motherfucker over. That will teach him."

Alma turned an alarmed gaze to the man, "Are you crazy? No! No, don't do that." she said. Fuck! She wasn't about to be a witness to another murder.

"You better shut up, bitch! I could still clock you."

Alma ignored him and looked forward once again, he was still standing there! Couldn't he run?

Mikey drove the car faster, intent on making impact. The closer they got, the wider Alma's eyes grew. They were actually going to hit him. He was going to stand there and let them hit him. Was she an unwilling cast in a bizarre movie right now?