(Disclaimer: I don't know where this will go, honestly, but I hope you all enjoy.)
It seems so far away now.
What it used to be.
And you think you have it bad.
---
This is the story of an alternate Earth, one not unlike your own. My name is Warren Spencer Manhardt, or Warsman. On my Earth, the war between humans and mutants never happened. We were too concerned with building our own gods, giving our deities flesh, and watching their power tear our enemies apart. I speak, of course, on behalf of the arrogant beast known as humanity, because I know what it was like to be one of those gods. I fought on behalf of the Americans in this gladiatorial nightmare. While we 'gods' were sometimes afraid on our own, slowly realizing that even though the mewling masses worshiped us and treated us like idols rather than people, we knew that the people were the most afraid.
But perhaps their greatest fear was losing control.
That fear was realized when Rama Khan, representative of India, launched an unprovoked attack on London, England, destroying it without so much as an ounce of mercy.
---
Warren entered the fray, accustomed to the sight of twisted bodies and mangled flesh. He would never grow used to the smell, however, and grimaced visibly before covering his nose. Finding Rama Khan was not difficult. He always sat at the forefront of what he wanted, meditating while his wiry tendrils for hair sought out information. They searched the air and the earth, parted the sea, and split the sky. He had a serene expression on his face, but it was not a smile.
"Hello Warren. It has been a long time," he muttered, not opening his physical eyes. The level of technology involved with his build exceeded any prior restraint, and extended into the psionic through computations alone.
"This is hardly the reunion I wanted, Rama," Warren replied unamused. His tall and muscular frame a stark contrast to Rama Khan's own, small body, the American reached forward to place a heavy hand on the god's blue shoulder.
"You know why I'm here,"
"I do not care Warren. Listen,"
Contemplating forcing Rama to comply, Warren instead felt compelled to follow his instruction once his fingers placed their cold printless face upon his weathered knuckles. Such a wise creature, and such a bold opposite to Warren's brute nature.
"Do you not hear it? London is silent now. I systematically killed every last one of them,"
"Are you proud?"
"No. I do not feel anything. This is what those who believe in me want, though. They want to see me rise as the supreme god, so that their religion can rule over all others. Why do humans seek to extort such petty dreams for dominance? And why through me? Why us? We are better than this Warren. The humans can fight their own wars, without us,"
"We were made for this,"
"And does that automatically assign us to this fate? Are we bound to this world? And if so, by what? You know the power you have in your veins. You and eight billion other people watched me destroy London in over three hundred languages. I have the power to rule the world, and so do all of us. Why should we continue that fiasco? We have no purpose here,"
"Rama, you're avoiding the issue. You killed over two hundred million people on national TV. You're a war criminal now,"
"To my people I am a hero. I can hear them cheering now. You need to stop listening to the humans, Warren. They are as different from you as they are to each other. Do not let them influence what you rightfully are. The only opinion you should honor is your own,"
Warren kept silent for a moment. He would come back to what Rama said to him many times in the future, but for now he simply watched as the azure mastermind floated into the sky, making ready to leave for his home country.
"I did not come here on the orders of my superiors. They take pride in my intelligence and my power, which increases by the minute. They say I will attain true godhood soon, and that my artificial intelligence will supercede any before it. I will become as Vishnu himself. I do not think they know what will happen when that finally comes to pass,"
Rama Khan disappeared, but his voice remained.
"And I know that they are not prepared."
---
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the long and the short of it. After the failure of Son Goku, the Chinese have resorted to more...unorthodox religious figures. Due to its incomplete genetic code, the monster - dubbed 'Cthulhu' by forum writers and Lovecraft fanatics - is now on an uncontrollable rampage along the Yellow River, desperate for sustenance. It has already consumed dozens of metropolitan centers. Hundreds of thousands have perished within the first few hours, with reports of continued casualties constantly coming in. The local Asian god population has dwindled exponentially, leaving many defenseless in the wake of this new threat,"
Hiding news like this from Percy and Rose was always hard. Warren and his husband Marcus were both incredibly afraid of many things, including the common opinion about their relationship. To have the American god Warsman marry another man seemed blasphemous to many religious groups who were the financial backing for some of the god projects. But Warsman already lived and breathed, so it barely seemed harmful when these nutjobs criticized his life decisions on the TV or radio. They were tried and true hypocrites.
"You're thinking too much again. I can see it in your eyes,"
Marcus was a 'failed' god, one of the first attempts actually. He was a war veteran who volunteered to have his body donated to the science of creating the first man-made god. Cybernetic implants could only get someone so far. He wrapped his metallic arms around Warren's neck.
"Of course, a full thermal scan tells me your heart rate is increasing. You can't tell me that it's all me, hm?"
Nudging his forehead against Warren's, he obviously wanted to comfort the god. But Warren had too much on his mind.
"You're not going to China to fight that thing,"
"Then what am I supposed to do? Sit here until it crosses the ocean? Rama Khan won't do anything. Alexander Nevsky is not strong enough,"
"Ah, the Russian," Marcus sighed in a lackluster comment. "And I guess the other European gods are too scared to do anything?"
"After what happened to London, I don't blame them,"
"Well, at any rate, dinner's ready. The girls had their first day at school, so come talk to them."
---
"We saw lots of fliers today! Tons of 'em, and one of them actually landed on top of the school!" Rose, the energetic one, never stopped bouncing in her chair. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, and the prettiest baby teeth in her second grade class.
"Fliers? Pieces of paper?" Warren poked at her.
"Nooo, the things with the spinny things on 'em!"
"They're called helicopters, doofus," her 'sister' replied. Percy, wrapped in her hoodie, only pecked her food with the fork in her hand.
"Percy," Marcus cleared his throat. "Don't call your sister names just because she beats you in Mario Kart,"
"Once!" she groaned, finally finding the attention span between chasing the grilled chicken around her plate to finally impale a piece and eat it.
"Yoshi is the best!" Rose cheered, giggling uncontrollably. She loved the sound when Yoshi shot his tongue out.
Silence reigned for a moment. Warren and Marcus both knew what was coming.
"Dad," Percy stammered. "Er, Warsy...Marky-Mark..." the girls' pet names for their dads persisted to this day. "Why do people hate you? I mean, you save them on a daily basis. They call you such hurtful names at school, and it makes no sense,"
Percy was a few years older than Rose, and started her first day in seventh grade.
"I still think the best answer is that they just don't understand yet. It's the same as when a man loves a woman, and it shouldn't be treated differently. Tradition is a powerful influence, though, and some people just don't get used to that," Marcus replied, glancing over at Warren with a slight blush.
To which, Warren pressed his pectoral muscle. The cyborg took this as a hint to break the tension in his usual way. The girls always loved to watch Marcus flex while doing a silly dance. Warren just thought he was a huge dork, but loved him anyway.
---
"Победы!" or "Victory!" rang out over the onion-shaped domes of the Russian Orthodox monasteries as Alexander Nevsky, their patron god, descended from the heavens with another important triumph over Russia's enemies.
Hercules, the Greek god, fell in valiant combat and as a result, the Mediterranean became open as Russian influence poured into the area. The mainland of Greece itself surrendered without a fight, collectively believing that they could not stop Alexander if Hercules could not. Rogue paramilitary groups continued resistance, only to be snuffed out as soon as they started retaliating. Alexander, ever the prideful bastard, proclaimed "The world belongs to the Motherland!", knowing full well the ramifications.
What happened in London did not seem to hurt the human arrogance. And no matter how strong he became, no matter how much he fought for or how hard, nothing changed the fact that Alexander could never best Rama Khan in combat. He still believed in the strength of humanity, and strove to preserve it. Perhaps that is why he never attempted to fight Rama Khan for dominance of the Russo-Asian supercontinent. But added to all of this, the issue of the god in China did not settle. In fact, a northward turn in its trajectory saw it tearing through Mongolia.
That is when the Mongolian god, Genghis Khan, traveled to Moscow.
In resplendent armor, the illustrious warlord of olden times met with the hero of Kiev in broad daylight at a summit to publicly discuss the matters at hand. They sat on a woven mat in the center of town, drinking tea, while their conversation was filmed for audiences around the world.
"We never met in life, did we?" the Khan joked at their namesakes to break the ice. It seemed to work around the Prince.
"But we meet now, great Khan. I can win victories across Europe and still not have the respect you do just by people saying your name,"
"You honor me Prince. Now, for the matter at hand,"
"This Cthulhu is a mockery of gods,"
"No, not a mockery. It is among the most powerful of us all, a nightmare made flesh. Rama Khan does what he wants, and he is useless to communicate with. The American Warsman will not make a preemptive strike. It is the way of their people, to watch the misery of others and join at the last minute to take all of the glory,"
Nevsky laughed as a mouthful of the hot tea crawled down his throat. His head of golden hair bounced with the giggling fit.
"You will kill me before the Cthulhu does,"
"That is not my intent, good Prince," the Khan apologized, patting Nevsky on the back.
Indeed, they were more human than god. Rama watched all of this transpire, and questioned whether or not they were the true weapons of the world. The absolute answer their countries could conjure. Perhaps humans saw more of themselves in some gods than pure deification. This would explain why they attached themselves to some gods more than others, just like characters in a book or movie. If that was the truth, then where did it end? If the gods were just toys, then what was the point? The Indian god shut off the feed. It was already obvious that Genghis Khan and Alexander Nevsky would combine forces to stop Cthulhu. What they did not realize was that this was impossible.
Only a few gods could contend with Cthulhu, and they did not exist yet.
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