Prelude

“What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

Hades snorted derisively and threw his tablet across the room. There was no sunlight in his underground facility and he could not, especially now, leave it. The only light that “broke” came from fluorescent bulbs and the rare full-spectrum bulbs in the greenhouse areas, specifically designed to simulate sunlight.

The idea that a “Juliet” could burn incandescently in his world was a bitter joke.

He did regret shattering the screen of the tablet. Soon enough, there would be a limited number available. He couldn’t be throwing them every day—even every month.

“My Lord?” his second asked tentatively, the image wavering on the holoscreen.

“What?” Hades snapped.

“The teams are in place. We are ready. Do we have your order to execute the plan?”

Hades studied the man on his holoscreen. His face was schooled to a carefully neutral expression, but Hades could see the tick in his cheek that meant that he worried about whether his broody Commander was in a steady mood or a mercurial one.

“The end of this world starts in seventy-two hours, yes. Execute the plan.”