The children of the Gods always lived in interesting times.  Tonight hadn't been any exception for David Blackheart.<br/><br/>The night had started off boring enough; only a few rowdy patrons in the crowded Miami bar.  The regulars already knew not to make trouble; "don't mess with Dave" was a lesson that didn't take long to learn.  Everyone with even a lick of sense feared the bouncer, even if they didn't know half the reason why they should.<br/><br/>Then the trio of giants had burst in -- the mortal onlookers, of course, had only seen three very large men -- followed by at least a couple dozen crazed thralls.  There was no obvious reason why they'd chosen that particular bar to attack; perhaps the dull-witted titanspawn were simply bored.  It hadn't mattered much, as Dave made short work of them, stunning the patrons as he took on many times his number without a scratch on him.  They wouldn't quite understand what they'd seen, but later many would swear it was "like something out of an action movie."<br/><br/>The place was an absolute wreck, but Dave's employer didn't blame him; he'd have time off with pay until the place was rebuilt enough to open for business, in a week or two.  Quite a few of the fallen aggressors looked to be permanently hurt, and several had been killed outright, but after the briefest of chats, the police told him he had nothing to worry about: it was too clear-cut a case of justified force to be even worth bringing charges.<br/><br/>Interesting times, but not that strange as Dave's life went.  What was strange was the feeling of<em>power</em>; he'd felt powerful ever since the day he'd discovered the truth about his absent father, of course, and not without good reason, but this was something else again.  The feeling coursing through his body ever since the last foe had fallen was positively electric; he felt better than he'd ever imagined feeling.<br/><br/>When he stepped out the building's back door, though, he was greeted by an unexpected sight.  A large pickup truck sat in front of the exit.  Its back, facing him, was loaded with a very large keg and several taped-up cardboard boxes of various shapes and sizes.  More important was the man leaning against the back of the truck, clad in jeans and a wifebeater, with a long, fur-lined duster that didn't make much sense in the Florida heat.  He was of a height with Dave, and his features were quite similar -- nowhere near as handsome, and yet infinitely more imposing -- and even his full beard couldn't hide his wide grin.<br/><br/>"Evening, kiddo."  Heracles, the God of Strength, looked as proud as his son had ever seen him.  He pulled down the tailgate of his truck, taking a seat on it and gesturing for Dave to do likewise.  "Looks like you've had a busy night."