40 Ten Minutes

"W-what are you even talking about!? We don't have your damn son!" Bete exclaims as his claws dig into Kratos' arm. Though that hand suddenly releases its grip and the Werewolf drops to his knees.

Kratos stares down at those silver ears, "Take me to your God..." he hisses, bending and taking Bete by the arm, "...Now."

The Werewolf grits his teeth, attempting to pull his arm from the pale vice, but to no avail, "She's not here right now, dumbass!" he yells.

Kratos tugs on the skinny arm again, and his face comes inches from Bete's, those brown eyes seeming to pierce the Werewolf's very soul, "Then where is she?" Kratos hisses.

"You actually think I would tell you that!?" Bete asks with furrowed brows. Suddenly, a door bursts open on the other side of the lobby, and jade-colored hair is revealed as Riveria stands in the threshold with a long sleeping gown hanging from her shoulders, "Bete! What is HE doing here!?" she asks with wide eyes. She steps into the moon-lit room, and a pair of golden eyes enter behind the Elf.

Bete spins his head, his face still twisted in frustration as he looks at Riveria, "I don't know! He thinks we have his son!" he exclaims.

Kratos' eyes scan the confused faces before him, his brows furrowing as he finally settles his vision on Riveria, "Where is Loki?" he asks, his captive seeming to tire himself out with his attempts at escaping.

Riveria returns the gaze, her brows also taking on a furrow, "She's not here!" she exclaims, "You're really going to attack us again when we're helping find your son!?"

Kratos raises his brows, "What are you talking about?" he asks.

"You don't even know?..." Riveria asks. Though she suddenly wrinkles her forehead as she witnesses blonde hair step towards Kratos, "Ais! Get away from him!" The Elf exclaims with an outstretched hand.

The words linger, but Ais pays the warning no mind, arriving before Kratos with a moment, "Kratos... Let him go, please. What Riveria said is true; some of our familia members are out looking for Atreus right now," her soft words echo through the lobby.

The Spartan towers over the Sword Princess, those piercing brown eyes the only thing visible under thick shadows, "You would not lie to me, would you?" he asks.

A chill slithers up Ais' spine, and the woman shakes her head, returning those golden eyes to Kratos, "Hestia visited and asked us to help with the search. Did you not speak with her before?" she asks with soft words.

Kratos nods, a long hum leaving his lips. His eyes scan those twisted faces again, and he agrees with Hephaestus' words; these children seem to be reasonable people, most of them anyway. However, the Spartan knows that this 'help' may just be a front for Loki, "...I see. I would still meet Loki, and I care not that she is vacant... You will take me to her," Kratos responds as he releases Bete.

Ais purses her lips, "But none of us know where she is... She left with Hermes earlier today and said she'd be back tomorrow," she responds.

Kratos sighs, and suddenly, the door behind the God bursts open. A body thuds into Kratos' back, and the Spartan turns to gaze at the new visitor. An average height man stands under the God's intimidating gaze. With black hair and brown eyes, and plain silver armor covering his body, the man widens his eyes as he stares up at Kratos, "Who are you!?" the man asks, his palms open before him in cowardice.

"Raul! What are you doing back so soon! You're supposed to be out looking for Atreus!" Riveria steps up beside Ais with furrowed brows.

The man, Raul as the Elf called him, peeks around Kratos and meets those jade eyes, "I think I saw him! There was a man carrying a boy through the city, but he was unconscious. He had a bow and some weird purple swords hanging from his back," he responds.

Riveria raises her brows, "That definitely fits the description..." she mutters.

The Spartan stares down at Raul, and the man's eyes soon find him as well, "Where?" Kratos hisses.

"U-uh, On the other side of the city, near the business area. It seemed like he was heading towards the Tower of Babel...," Raul responds quickly, and before the man can utter another word, Kratos disappears through the door once again.

"So we're going to just let him go!? After what he did to us... After what he did to Finn!? He can't keep getting away like this!" Bete suddenly exclaims to all those present, turning slowly to look at each and every face until he finally rests on Riveria's stone expression, "What?" He hisses.

The Elf merely scoffs, stepping towards Bete and passing him with that same disinterested expression, "He attacked and you did nothing. Why is that?" She mutters, and suddenly, her eyes widen as the door she came through creaks open.

Bete turns to look at Riveria, "I…" his words jam in his throat as a limping figure reveals itself, "...F-Finn!" The Werewolf bolts past the Elf and catches Finn lightly in his arms.

Blue eyes quake as the Pallum stares up at Bete, mouthing words with only tiny moans leaving his lips. Finn puts a hand to his throat and clutches Bete's shirt with the other, a silent fear in his eyes all too obvious to the three watching.

---

"Aughhh..." Atreus wrinkles his forehead as he regains his consciousness. The boy rubs his bruised neck as he looks around, "...Huh? why am I back here?" he asks as a wave of deja vu crashes into his mind, his eyes roaming over gold and red sofas, shining chandeliers, and glass coffee tables.

The Little Jötun continues to look around, and soon, his brows raise as he notices a large figure settled in a loveseat staring back at him, " Ottar?... Where..." his eyes search for a soul not present, "...Where is Freya?"

Ottar hums, that massive sword leaning against the loveseat, "She is not here," he responds shortly.

"Oh..." Atreus says awkwardly, those icy blues roaming again as silence takes over. Even so, the boy feels the piercing gaze of the level seven on him constantly. Atreus glances at Ottar after a moment, "So... What are we doing here?" he asks, his fingers fiddling with that small knife, a gift reduced to merely a fidget toy.

"Waiting," The Boaz responds, his fingers crossed before him as his elbows rest on the red arms of the loveseat.

The Little Jötun scoffs, "Okay..." he looks down at a table before him, a flat piece of glass lying atop a smooth wooden frame painted black. An ornate bowl is placed in the middle, and Atreus takes a banana from the assortment of fruits inside the bowl, "...You're not much of a talker, are you?" he asks as he peels the yellow fruit and takes a bite.

Ottar hums with nearly slitted eyes, "No..." he responds, "...Does that bother you?"

Atreus chuckles, but suddenly widens his eyes and beats a fist to his chest. A moment passes, and the boy finally swallows the chunk in his throat, a chuckles leaving his lips again, "...Ooh, that was close."

"...Were my words amusing?" Ottar says with furrowed brows.

Atreus shakes his head, a slight smile on his lips as he peels further, "No... You just sounded a lot like father. He doesn't talk much either..." the boy responds, suddenly raising his brows as he glances at the Boaz, "...Now that I think about it, you and father are really similar."

The furrow deepens in Ottar's brows as he listens to the soft words, "How so?" he asks.

The Little Jötun shrugs his shoulders, chewing and swallowing much slower this time, "...I dunno... You don't talk a lot, you're really strong, and you just move around like him in general..." Atreus says, "...Oh, but father is definitely stronger."

Ottar hums, "Is that so?" that deep voice flows through the large room like a tidal wave.

Atreus nods his head, "Yep... I'd say it would take about ten minutes," he responds.

"Ten minutes for what?" Ottar wrinkles his forehead, those rust-colored eyes focusing on the smirk on Atreus' lips.

"Ten minutes for father to kill you and every other person calling themselves a child of Freya."