“He was right; you’re overexerting yourself,” a voice rang out in the dingy warehouse.

The warehouse was teeming with long forgotten boxes of old stock. Hidden amongst the mildew-infested crates was a small room. A tattered mattress was pushed against the left wall. A worn couch ran pendicular to the mattress. Out of place was a  keyboard that sat in the middle of the room. A small back case was leaned against it.  The once abandoned area was occupied. Two men occupied the room. Huddled in swatches of blankets, one of the two laid on the mattress. The redness of his face suggested that he was ill.  Upon the couch was the other man finely dressed in a suit.

“Who said that?” the man groaned from the mattress.

“Time,” stated the man on the couch, “Who else would it be, Disaster?”

Disaster laughed, bitterly, “These aliases are ridiculous.”

“You never know when someone is listening in,” the man in a suit responded.

He gestured to suggest all the deities or spirits that could be listening in.

“Fine, tell Time that he’s worrying too much, Music.”

“Music? I guess that fits well enough,” Music nodded, “Time’s right. You started too soon after we landed in Seoul. You are going to burn out.”

“Why wait?’ Disaster responded, “The result will be the same whether we wait or not.”

Music stood up, indignantly. Reaching for the violin case nestling against the electronic keyboard,  Music moved it out of Disaster’s reach.

“We’re not doing this to lose another brother!” Music growled.  

Disaster blinked, running a hand through his wheat-colored hair.

“Sorry,” Disaster started, “I wasn’t thinking. Hyungs wouldn’t be happy if we killed ourselves getting revenge.

Music placed the violin case back down. Moving back to the couch, he wondered why he was here. Of course he missed the older members of his pantheon, but he was so far removed from their group. Part of a secondary pantheon, he was rarely in contact with the South Korean majority. Disaster moved around even more than he did and had even less contact with the others. Honestly, Music would rather be shopping or finding awe-inspiring, new compositions.

Music sighed. Revengeance wasn’t in his nature, but someone had to watch over the simmering pot that was Disaster. Natural disasters are the byproduct of impulse and emotional overflow afterall. It was up to Music to organize a semblance of a plan out of the whirlwind that was Disaster.

His head pulsed: thud, thump, thud, thud, thud, thud, thump in a continuous uneven loop.  Chen held his head, holding it together. Stumbling, Chen placed his weight on an umbrella. He used it more as a cane then a means of protection. It supposed his weight just well enough for him to totter into one of the stools at Sungmin’s counter. The umbrella was thrown haphazardly on the floor.

“Black coffee?” Sungmin asked, his voice softer than usual.

Chen groaned, “What?”  

“Do you want black coffee?” Sungmin clarified, “It looks like you need it.”

Chen nodded simply to stop Sungmin from talking, even the soft decibels drove sharp nails into his brain. His joints ached as though injected with plaster. His stomach clenched tightly around the overabundance of energy.

The rough sound of a cup sliding against wood was sandpaper to Chen’s ears. Cracking his eyes open, Chen reached slowly for the cup. His muscles protested from the exertion.  Carefully, he slipped from the large, round cup. The bitterness of the black coffee was hard to keep down.

Sungmin frowned, “That bad of a hangover?”

Chen made a noise that was a hybrid between a yes and ow.

“Then you’re lucky that the storms scared everyone else away,” Sungmin commented.

Peering through his barely opened eyelids, Chen noticed that he was the only one in the shop.

“Who does that belong to?” Sungmin gestured toward the umbrella.

Chen grasped the umbrella loosely between his fingers. Luhan was written across the bottom in a messy scribble. He barked out a laugh, immediately regretting how it scratched his throat. Chen thought that only children wrote their names on their belongings. Tilting the umbrella up, Chen shared the name with Sungmin.

“Well, Luhan is lucky that he doesn’t need that umbrella today,” Sungmin jerked his head in the direction of the door.

Through the windowpane, the sky was clear. It was the first day in ages since the weather had been normal. Closing his eyes, Chen felt the evaporating vestiges of the foreign deity’s anger.

Maybe he ran out of steam, Chen considered.

Biting his lip, Chen hoped otherwise. Other than the pounding hangover of overindulgence, Chen felt no ill side effects from the endless sea of storms. It fed him.

Relaxing into his seat, Chen had forgotten about the umbrella in his hands. Dropping it once more on the floor, Chen decided to toss it. He didn’t have a need for one anyway.  

When his classes ended,  Sehun rushed for the gate. Moving briskly, he hoped to avoid all the civilities associated with acquaintances and classmates. He wasn’t a loner but he was busy. He had to prove to Xiuxmin that he could pull his own weight. Dodging the scattered grouping of people, Sehun made it the corner of the science building before a voice called to him.

I don’t have time for this, Sehun thought, the algorithm I ran is almost done.

Sehun simply walked faster. It was much more important to locate the gods messing with the weather. He hoped that his work to triangulate the guy’s position worked. If Sehun’s plan worked, then there was no reason to continue babying him.

“Sehun, I would stop if I were you,” the voice called out again.

It was loud and clear, having to it an oddly lyrical quality. Glancing backward at it, Sehun saw a man in a mask. There was a large juxtaposition between the steamed straight suit that embraced the man’s body and the childish, gray koala mask that hugged his face.

Sehun edged away. The hairs on his arms stood on ends.

“I wouldn’t leave if I were you,” the man articulate, “it would be quite sad if all those in the area went deaf.”

Sehun froze. Glaring at the man, he felt around with his mind for a method to clear out his fellow university students. The fire alarm would work, but only for those in the building.

“I can alter sound,” the creepy  gentlemen stated, “so whatever you’re attempting to do will not help them.”

“What do you want?” Sehun growled. From the dangerous aura that the masked man projected, Sehun guessed that he was one of the sources Korea’s most recent threats.

“I am here to make a proposition, young demigod,” he began, “if you listen to my offer then your peers will be spared.”

“Fine,” Sehun edged in closer. Keeping his grasp on the fire alarms, Sehun hid himself within the shadows of the building with the odd man.  

“You might of heard of us - no I am certain you know of us. Although we once went by another name, we are the Lost Gods. . .” the madman paused.

Gesturing, Sehun urged, “Can’t you skip all the unimportant stuff?”

“You are indeed  a child,” the man sighed.

Sehun rolled his eyes.

The masked gentleman coughed, “Fine. I am here to offer you a position in our alliance, demigod.”

“What? Why?” Sehun’s eyes widened.

“My allies and I had once made this proposition to your leader but he declined for your pantheon as a whole. I believed that was unfair so I choose to ask your independently. It would befit my acquaintances and yourself if you became an ally,” the man continued, “There is a strength in numbers and a power in knowledge.”

A power in knowledge, Sehun zoomed in on that phrasing.

“You want be to be a double agent,” Sehun accused.

“I prefer the word liaison,” the man responded.

“Let me think about it,” Sehun stated. Perhaps he could play a triple agent instead.

“No, I have seen enough,” the gentleman replied, “Other than being a terrible liar, you are loyal to your kind which, although admirable, is rather stupid of you. You are of no use to us.”

The man stepped away, brushing past Sehun. Then he paused, “Don’t believe your pantheon is the only with a technopath. Farewell, demigod.”

A second passed, Sehun ran around the corner. The next second he was on his back.

“Sorry!” a girlish looking man apologized.

Sehun stared, a vague sense of familiarity tugged at his mind.

“Are you okay?” the effeminate student asked.

Slowly grasping the surprisingly firm arm of his fellow peer, Sehun pulled himself up.

“Sorry, I’m fine. Did you see a man in a suit and mask run pass here?” Sehun inquired.

“Nope,” the man shook his head.

Looking around, the area of was void of masked, suited men. Observing the man before him, Sehun realized where he recognized the guy from. It was from a file Xiumin had Sehun compile on humans that Chen had interacted with. The brown haired man was Luhan if Sehun recalled correctly. He had an idea.   

“I’m sorry for running into you,” Sehun bowed.

“No, it’s fine,” Luhan commented.

“No. I feel terrible,” Sehun lied, “When does your next class end? I’ll treat you to a drink as a token of apology since I can’t afford drycleaning.”

Sehun gestured at the dark spots on Luhan’s pants.  

“No, you don’t have to,” Luhan said.

“I insist,” Sehun pushed.

“I am bust today, but I am free tomorrow after I finish an essay in the rec center,” Luhan admitted defeat.

“I can do tomorrow, how does four-thirty sound?” Sehun smiled.

“Fine,” Luhan answered, “but you don’t have to pay me back.”

“I want to,” Sehun said.   Tomorrow gave him more  enough time to check his algorithm, talk with Xiumin, and ensure that Chen was also in that cafe at that time.

“I’ll see you later then,” Luhan bowed and left.

A/N: Sorry for missing last week's update. I hurt my shoulder so it was hard to write. I hope you guys like this chapter.