Clayton stood in front of a ragtag group of survivors brandishing assault rifles and shotguns. He had already pitched the ArmSys Heathrow settlement to them and the group did not seem to impressed.
"Thanks for the offer but we're not going to join," smiled the group's leader warmly. [What was his name?], thought Clayton, [Arnold? Archer? Something 'Ar' sounding for sure].
"It's going to get harder and harder to find food as well as resources. That's something we can guarantee alongside genuine safety." replied Clayton, not quite making eye contact with the group's leader.
"We've got our own plans. I'm sure your Heathrow Settlement is great and all but we're going to stay here." answered the group's leader as he shifted from one foot to the other. "We've got plans for a garden and other things. Maybe in the future we could trade with you though, start to branch out and make other settlements. Maybe even a whole country or state, like a New United Kingdom."
[Holy fuck some people just don't want to be saved], Clayton groaned internally, [you can lead a horse to water but apparently the horse would rather roam aimlessly for water instead of taking some given to it].
Swiftly he unslung his APR-4 Rifle and flicked the safety off.
"Hey," yelled out the group's leader raising his hands up in resignation, "let's just talk about this maybe we cou-"
Bang.
A single 10mm round fired from Clayton's APR-4 had punched through the group's defenceless leader's head, leaving a crimson red hole. Immediately the group reached for their weapons - an assortment of pistols and knives they had found - only for Clayton to gun them down with his vastly superior weapon.
Clayton carefully searched the bodies of his victims, emptying each of their pockets and its contents into a pile. He then sorted through the pile slowly, taking any ammunition and jewellery he found. Sighing, Clayton stripped all clothing off the bodies and dragged them over to a nearby sedan. The car's blaring alarms echoed throughout London's snowy streets as Clayton smashed the car's window with his rifle. Quick as he could, Clayton stuffed all the bodies into the car.
"If they won't join you, gun 'em down." chuckled Clayton as he fished a gold-plated lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette. He took one long drag of the drug, letting the smoke billow out of his throat and around him.
Clayton then took out a small notebook from his pocket, noting down the address for ArmSys raid parties. He then dumped the clothes on the ground and took a matte black cylinder out of his jacket. Ripping the pin out, he threw the cylinder into the sedan with the bodies and trudged away. Clayton took another deep breath of his cigarette as the car behind him exploded into a yellow fireball. The flames curled upwards and around the painted metal of the car - ruining the vehicle. Light snowflakes fell overheard into the flames, melting near-instantly.
[Fuck I love my job], thought Clayton with a smirk.
***
"Sir," called out a voice, disturbing Mr Sharpe's sleep.
Sharpe rolled over in his luxury waterbed, turning away from the voice.
"Sir, it's time to get up." repeated the voice in a sterner tone than before.
Sharpe half-heartedly threw an arm to wave off his sleep-intruder.
"Sir, Trade Day starts in an hour - you really need to get up." urged the voice, now tugging the blankets off Sharpe's bed.
Groaning, Sharpe blinked his eyes open to see Romeo standing at the end of his bed.
"Partied too much, Sir?" asked Romeo as he folded Sharpe's blankets into a neat pile onto the edge of Sharpe's bed.
"Yea," replied Theodore as he took several swigs from a steel water bottle given to him by his subordinate.
"I've already ironed and prepared your outfit for you as well Sir. I left it on your dresser. Also breakfast should be ready downstairs soon." said Romeo before turning and heading down the stairs.
Sighing, groaning and bones creaking, Sharpe half-limped out of bed over to his small camp stove. He lit the small heater and placed his specialised coffee-making kettle on top. [Romeo's basically my maid now but didn't even think to make me coffee], thought Sharpe as he poured the freshly made coffee into a mug. He took a long slow sip as he surveyed the Heathrow Settlement from his room in the Air Traffic Control Tower.
The former grassed sections between the various roads and runways of the Airport had been ripped up. Several dozen settlers worked with gardening tools to plant various seeds, all bought by Sharpe. From his window he could see into several of the terminals. Most of the seats had been cleared away and sold by Sharpe, replaced by beds and lockable trunks for each settler. In between the rows of beds stored gas powered lamps as for an unknown reason no electrical device - even bought by Sharpe - functioned at all. Sharpe had discovered there were several exceptions to this rule, such as hearing aids and other prosthetics. [I need to assemble an engineering and science team to figure out how to get power back], planned Sharpe, [if I can get electricity online it'll attract even more people to Heathrow]. Finishing his coffee, Sharpe quickly dressed himself in the suit Romeo had ironed for him and headed downstairs himself.
***
"Minerva!", yelled out the All Father as he materialised into the goddess' domain.
"Oh hello All Father. It has been a long time since we last conversed, I believe several centuries. To what circumstances do I owe the pleasure?" asked Minerva, sitting in a black marble throne that seemingly melted into her own robes.
Minerva's Domain, known as the High Court of The Judge Executioner, was designed to look like a courtroom. However it was far grander than any normal courtroom ever would be. Floors of white marble cracked with black lightning streaks that constantly shifted illuminated the rather dark room. The walls and furniture were all made out of the same dark marble as Minerva's throne which was located where the courtroom judge would sit.
"You know why I am here," fumed the All Father, "you are meant to represent law and order - how could you commit such a horrendous and rule-breaking atrocity?"
Minerva smiled slowly, tilting her head to one side.
"The only rule breaker here is yourself, you are not supposed to invade other Domains - that is a breach of privacy." said Minerva with shining eyes full of gleam.
"Minerva." repeated the All Father, his fiery temper and voice calming. "The Council will find out. You are not permitted to force humans into a contract by offering an ultimatum of life or death. You will be removed from the Council and no longer receive their protection should anything go awry."
Minerva laughed, giggling manically before composing herself again after several outbursts of chuckles.
"Oh All Father," sighed Minerva with a smirk, "You are just jealous that I managed to make a deal with your favourite human, your heroic Nathaniel, before you could. Losing the Council's protection means nothing. If another God tries to kill me they will either fail or the Council will eliminate them or prison them indefinitely - no God has ever been killed by another God. You should know that."
"What about humans?" asked the All Father, serious eyes locking with Minerva's own.
"Humans? Ha. No issue," laughed Minerva, "no High-Level God has been killed by a human ever. It is inconceivable for a human to become that powerful."
"That may be true," replied the All Father, "however last Divine Tournament one of the Nine Demons killed Athena - a Mid-Level Goddess - of War nevertheless. You must take that into consideration. If even one of the Nine is selected and awakened… it would no longer be implausible to kill a High-Level Goddess such as yourself. Please, Minerva, come see the Council with me and we shall resolve this conflict before you risk your own existence for control over just one human."
"That one human happens to be the Champion and Last Survivor of the last Tournament. He is extremely valuable, All Father, which is why you want to be his Sponsor again. I will not fall for your greed and selfishness disguised as genuine concern. The Council is a glorified club for Gods and has not had a real meeting for millennia. They are like the humans' United Nations - all titles and bureaucracy without any action. That is why I am forming my own faction of Gods - to bring about actual action and change. We have the same goals, All Father, we are not enemies but allies. You should join me." invited Minerva, leaving her throne and walking down the dark marble steps over to her visitor.
"The Council should not be underestimated. They have plans to prevent catastrophe, you are simply creating a group to fix an already solved problem. There is no point in creating a redundant group that fosters resentment for the Council. If we go to see them together you could stay on the same side as I - as the rest of the Gods. There is no need for such brash and aggressive action."
Minerva sighed and shook her head slowly.
"I thought we could remain as friends, All Father. However the very Light that you rule over blinds you. You are naive. Leave. Now." spat Minerva bitterly, lips curling in distaste.
The All Father nodded slowly, his emotions forming rivers that flowed down his face.
"I wish you well then, Old Friend." said All Father with a tired voice.
"I wish you Hell, New Enemy." replied Minerva as the All Father faded into a luminescent shadow of light until he vanished completely.