I thought my friends were ghosting me, but it turns out they all got arrested.

"Fuuuck, it's a text post! I gotta read..."

Twelve Demigods of various Divine Pantheons were incarcerated last week in a coordinated sting operation across the City of Primeval, as part of a recent campaign to rid the streets of vigilante violence and to combat the irresponsible use of Divine power.

"Yeah, bullshit. They just wanna use our power."

Authorities are currently pursuing Primeval's thirteenth and final resident Demigod, Nicole Artemis Astoria of the Greek Pantheon, and are offering significant monetary compensation for any information leading to her capture.

"Damn. That's crazy."

I keep doomscrolling past the newsfeed and wunkus cat memes and clips of police brutality and reviews of celebrity scandals and rankings of antidepressants sorted by Vibes. Catching my breath at a water nymph's ass pics, I dash into the comments on a fucking mission.

@strmgrl: godsdamn girl lemme hittt 👅💦💦

>@nymphox9: lol skrrt

>>@ramparttwc: BRUH 😂😂😂

>>@vendetta97: yoo she curved nico no wayyyy 😭

>>@DRowelms: "so no lesbian sex?" *nico smashes phone, jumps to break skateboard*

>>@arkriddle212: LMFAOO @strmgrl

"[TAPAS CENSOR: JOKE ABOUT SUICIDE]," I groan. The replies and laugh reacts keep coming in and I drop my phone on the bed. "Fuuuck. This is the worst thing that could possibly be happening to me right now..."

Authorities are currently pursuing the thirteenth Demigod, Nicole Artemis Astoria–

I gasp and sit up. "Wait! Shit! That's me!"

I scramble out of bed and get dressed. Royal blue designer hoodie with black leggings, and even though I might be about to get raided by cops, I won't be caught dead in these streets wearing no beatniks. I tie up some Hephaestus Original Tempest NA-27s, white and blue, fresh out the box.

They practically sparkle.

I snap a quick pic for the socials.

@strmgrl: cops can't raid this drip tho!!!

Glass shatters in the other room and a flashbang bounces off the floor. Gods, really? Amateurs. I turn away and cover my ears as it goes off, the thunderous clap bashing through my chest. More of my windows smash inward and the SWAT team breaches my apartment, guns blazing. The bullets ricochet off my electromagnetic field like they're nothing, so I hit my blue raspberry vape and consider my options here. On the one hand, killing cops is [TAPAS CENSOR: GLORIFICATION OF VIOLENCE]. On the other hand, killing cops would further the right wing's reactionary agenda by giving them more martyrs, and would kinda prove their point about trying to arrest me.

Aw, man. Guess I shouldn't.

While they're shooting at me, I gather my handful of belongings and toss them into my backpack. I always fucking forget my phone chargers, so I make triple sure I grab it. Phone, charger, bathroom shit, couple spare clothes, my passport, birth certificate, other legal documents, the usual. Even though I've been here for a few months, I never really unpacked and I only have the one bag, so it doesn't take me long.

The front door explodes and more cops rush in to shoot me.

"Fuck, I'm so not getting that security deposit back. Whatever, man. Deuces, dickheads."

I sprint toward the window. Jumping out of the thirty story building like a total badass, I drop the whole way down and hit the dirt nasty hero landing with a fist to the asphalt because it just looks so damn cool. There are a bunch of cops down here who start shooting at me too but I shrug it off and walk–

Something hits me hard, breaking my energy shield and sending me fucking flying. Damn, that's kinda rude! I bash through glass and concrete before finally skidding to a stop in my apartment lobby, flat on my back staring up at the decorative light fixtures.

That only hit me because I wasn't paying attention.

I swear.

I swear!

Standing up, I shake the dust off and wave at the receptionist, a lovely woman with some seriously beautiful bleached locks. "Yo, Quishaaa! Sorry about the mess!"

She gives me the kinda judgmental look only a mother could master. "You alright, sugar?"

"Fine, fine. A little rattled after this sudden violation of my rights as a citizen, but y'know. What else are cops for? Oh, seems like I'm moving out, by the way. They totally shot up my apartment, but any chance I'm getting the security deposit back?"

She doesn't answer, pursing her lips.

"Worth asking, right? Anyway, I'm gonna bounce, but can I grab one of those canned latte things you know I love so much, pretty please?"

"Sure, baby. I know your broke ass can't pay, so just take one."

"Thank you, Quisha! You're a gem!" I snag one from the cooler and take it to go, jogging backwards. "You know how to handle this, right? File the insurance claim, say it was me who did the damage, all that?"

"Mmhm. I know the procedure."

"Cool, cool! Love you! That man of yours better remember your anniversary tomorrow!"

"Oh, he will. Or else."

"Hell yeah! Deuces!"

"Mmhm. Bye, Nico. Careful out there, baby."

Ignoring the little footsoldiers shooting at me, I crack open my cinnamon latte and take a deep drink before hopping onto one of cop cars to get a better look down the street at what just hit me so Godsdamn hard.

I click my tongue. "Seriously, a tank? Whoa!"

Another shot comes my way and I duck. The shell whips past me and the force puts me on my ass and the impact explodes the sketchy corner store I get my beer and smokes from.

"Aw, damn it! Not Sketchymart!" I grit my teeth. Blue sparks fly. "Nah, nah, nah! That does it! I'm gonna fuck you up for that one!"

Charging up my power, I take off. It's easy enough to [TAPAS CENSOR: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE]. As I'm sprinting down the street, my regenerating shield deflects the tank's turret bullets and I dodge its next shell by cutting wide and jumping onto the glass of the high rise. Hitting a sick wall-run going for height, I gasp as the police open fire on civilian domiciles while trying to shoot me down.

Like, shit, man! And I'm the problem?

Diving pointed elbow drop. Directly to the tank's armor. The hunk of steel crushes inward and both ends jerk upward as the tank folds in half. The street explodes with the impact and kicks up so much dust I can't see anything, shattering every window in a half mile radius, probably. I dunno. All I know is I avenged Sketchymart. No one's coming out of the tank's wreckage in one piece.

A pair of choppers careen around the corner, firing rockets and machine gun spray at me.

"Jesus Christ, for real? What the hell is the budget for this shit?"

I shoot them both down with a bolt of lightning from a lazy flick of my wrist as I walk back down the street. Helicopters are real easy for me to destroy. Just one little zap to seize up the electronics systems and gravity does the rest. I'm way too cool to look at explosions, so I leave that shit in the rearview as I head toward Sketchymart. The city loves to pin the damages for this sorta shit on us Demigods, but is it really my fault? I'm just defending myself. They're firing rockets and tanks and shit in the middle of a densely populated metropolitan area.

Hypocrisy!

The fire alarm is going off inside Sketchymart. Half the place is gone and the other half is debris. Passing through it, making sure my shoes don't get dirty, I move aside the steel wreckage and fallen shelves blocking the back door, then bang my fist against it.

"Hitesh!" I call, knocking again. "Come on out! Door's clear!"

He bursts through, belting a rapid string of Hindi, then ushers out his six year old daughter, named Indu. Clasping my hand, he exhales, "Thank you! Thank you, Miss Astoria! Thank you!"

"I guess it's kinda my fault though. I mean, they are trying to arrest me. So... gratitude feels... weird."

"No," he says, jabbing a finger in my face. "No. You are not shooting rockets! You are not destroying my store! You do not risk the life of my daughter! They do all of this!"

I drink some more of my latte, shrugging. "Can't argue with that."

The poor kid's in tears and he pulls her close, asking, "Miss Astoria, what do we do?"

"Uh. Get out of here as fast as you can. Keep to the alleyways. Call Laila and get her to pick up Ishaan from school. Get home, get them home, and stay home until the smoke clears. You have insurance on the store? Make a claim against me and they're more likely to cover it, and give you more money too."

"But that puts blame on you!"

"And exploits the insurance company's bias against me, which is way more important for you right now. Get that bag, my man. On me. Don't sweat it. Once you're gone, I'll trash the place a bit more and leave my mark, so they can't contest it. You'll be back on your feet soon enough and you'll never see me again."

He bobs his bald head up and down. "Thank you, thank you. I will miss you. It was always a pleasure."

"The same to you," I say, hiding my internal grimace at how much I've shoplifted from his shelves over the past few months. Making amends, right? "You should get moving before more of them show up."

He tries to comfort Indu, pulling her along with him as he leaves. With one final wave from him and a teary-eyed glance back at me from her, they're gone. Sirens wail in the distance, closing in. I steal the moment of peace to load up any excess space in my backpack with energy drinks, cigarettes, and alcohol, then fuck up what little is left of the place with my electricity.

Stepping back out onto the street, I scan the carnage. Smoking, burning, overturned vehicles, heavy machinery wreckage galore, broken glass everywhere, a couple fires burning in the high rises.

None of it my fault. None of it.

But the corporate owned media will twist it into a much bigger issue, inflate the damages, and label me a terrorist or some shit. Again. Damn, I don't even know why the fuck any of this just happened. Why are they actually locking up Demigods? Guess I'd better go find out. Cinching my backpack straps, I finish my latte and toss the can in the trash because I'm an upstanding citizen, cracking a cold beer for the road. Just as I start to get moving, my phone buzzes in my backpack. Ignoring it for now, I build up electric charge before sprinting at near enough the speed of light as I bail on my old digs.

A few miles away, I jog to a stop in some quiet back alley.

Now that I have some distance, I loiter for a second and whip out my phone to see it's my fucking deadbeat emotionally absent dickhead father calling me. Gods damn it. He knows I don't wanna talk to him, and he also knows not to call me unless it's something important, so whatever. I'll answer. Maybe it's about this sting operation bullshit.

"Fuck you want, old man?"

"Hey, little storm," says the almighty Zeus. His voice is a low rumble of thunder. "I know you're in a tight spot, so I'll get right to it. The newscasts have already picked up the story of this scrap you just had with the police. You got away, right? Are you hurt?"

"Nah, I dodged 'em. I don't think they really knew what they were doing, 'cause all they did was try to shoot at me. But yeah, I'm good. Wiped the floor. [TAPAS CENSOR: JOKE GLORIFYING VIOLENCE]. You know how it is."

"Titans, that's good to hear. Listen, Nicole, you're the only Demigod in Primeval who evaded capture, for one reason or another–"

"For one reason or a–That one reason is because I kick mega fucking ass, dad!"

"Of course you do, and damn right that you did so. But that's also part of why I'm calling. I've been talking with the other Divines, those who've had their children abducted by this sting, and it seems like they all want to talk with you. How soon can you get over here?"

"Uh. I can run at the speed of light, so..." I take off running again and blitz through the air over to the Hills. "I'm outside."

My old man answers the door, dressed in a white suit. Appearing to be in his late fifties or so, but with a beefy late middle aged salt and pepper heavily bearded macho muscle dad vibe, Zeus's long white hair dangles around his shoulders as his weary blue eyes take me in. The mansion in the Hills is the same as I remember, and Dad looks just the same as he always has.

I scurry in the front door and he shuts it behind me.

[THIS CHAPTER CONTINUED IN EPISODE 2]