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To make a good first impression on this newly met Eternal, Henry had no choice but to sacrifice Katie's dignity.
A pet wasn't a wife.
Getting petted wouldn't cost her a chunk of flesh.
Still, when Katie raised a paw, clearly intending to shove Gilgamesh away, Henry instinctively stepped forward. He wasn't worried about the tiger hurting an Eternal—but if she shredded the man's clothes, that would be awkward.
He needn't have bothered.
True to his mythic reputation, Gilgamesh was no ordinary strongman. An elbow braced, a pivot, a casual twist of his torso—and Katie lost her balance, landing neatly on all fours.
Concern dissolved instantly.
A young adult tiger was simply no match for the Warrior King.
Gilgamesh, perceptive enough not to push things too far, released her before she truly erupted.
A thoroughly aggrieved Katie darted behind Henry, trying to use his comparatively thin legs as cover—despite being much larger than him.
The sight made Gilgamesh laugh heartily.
He stepped forward and extended a hand to Henry.
"A man who loves cats can't be all bad. So you're not some alien Kingo couldn't handle, dragged here for me to deal with."
Kingo protested immediately.
"Hey! What do you mean I couldn't handle him? When we hunted Deviants, I was a main force!"
"When your kill count has an extra zero, then we'll discuss who the main force was. Oh wait—the Deviants on Earth are extinct. I suppose you'll have to wait for our next mission to catch up."
The two old comrades bickered with easy familiarity.
Henry didn't interrupt. Nor did he leave Gilgamesh's hand hanging awkwardly. He shook it firmly.
"Pleasure to meet you. I hope our visit isn't too intrusive."
They released hands without any childish attempt at strength-testing.
That restraint didn't escape Henry's notice.
Gilgamesh was not merely brute force—there was awareness and control beneath the power. Seven thousand years of existence did not produce fools.
Before Gilgamesh could continue, Kingo hurriedly cut in.
"Where's Thena? I brought Henry to see if he can treat her Mahd Wy'ry."
Gilgamesh's expression turned skeptical. He pointed at Henry.
"He can? A Kryptonian? You're certain?"
Kingo replied, "He's like Sherlock Holmes—well, do you remember Sherlock Holmes? London, long coat, pipe-smoking nuisance. Never mind.
"Henry examined me for half a day and nearly deduced my entire genealogy. Kryptonian intelligence isn't exaggerated—they nearly brought the Skrull Empire to its knees as a single-planet civilization.
"So I thought—let him see Thena. Maybe he'll find something Ajak and Phastos never considered."
Gilgamesh looked back at Henry.
"Can you?"
"I've never seen this condition in person. I can't guarantee anything," Henry answered evenly. "I can only promise to do my best. Any proposal I make, you're free to judge for yourselves."
Gilgamesh nodded once.
"You may see her. But she doesn't know you. I can't predict her reaction."
He turned and walked toward the back of the property.
"Follow me."
---
Behind the house, near a weathered tree stripped nearly bare of leaves, a woman sat with her back to them.
Even without seeing her face, the platinum hair caught the blazing sunlight, reflecting brilliance that made it difficult to look away.
She wore a white linen robe—simple, breathable—yet it accentuated her silhouette with unintentional elegance.
If nothing else, the silhouette alone could kill.
They approached.
She did not turn.
Whether from indifference, loss of warrior vigilance, or simple trust in the footsteps she recognized—it was impossible to say.
Gilgamesh stepped forward.
"Thena. Kingo's here. He's brought a Kryptonian who claims he might help your condition."
The woman remained seated. Only her neck turned slightly.
Her profile appeared—exquisite yet distant. Like a Greek marble statue granted temporary life. Sunlight kissed her skin, making it glow.
"Cure Mahd Wy'ry?" she murmured softly. "Is that possible, Kryptonian?"
There was no hope in her tone. No desperation.
Only mild curiosity.
Henry smiled gently.
"There's no loss in looking. But if we don't look, there's no chance at all. Perhaps I truly can help."
Kingo, more anxious than Thena herself, asked, "Henry—you really have an idea?"
"Earlier, I didn't. Now, I have some thoughts. But I need to examine her first."
He directed the final question to Thena.
"Is that acceptable?"
She turned fully now, regarding him with calm detachment.
"Where will you examine me? Alone?"
"Wherever you're comfortable. No need to avoid anyone. I won't be conducting anything invasive."
Henry whistled.
Katie—doing her best to stay far from Gilgamesh—reluctantly padded over.
Henry removed the translation devices from behind her ears.
"These detect brainwave activity," he explained. "They aren't shaped for you, but we can improvise. Hook them over your ears or into your hair. As long as they don't fall."
Thena neither objected nor reached for them.
Henry gently brushed aside her pale hair, exposing one ear, and attached the modified device.
Up close, he studied her face.
Fortunately, she did not resemble Angelina Jolie.
No disrespect—just personal preference. Those famously full lips were not to Henry's taste.
This Thena—Athena minus an "A"—weapon master of the Eternals—had sharp, resolute lines. Not sweet or delicate, but cool and almost austere.
Her eyes, however, were hollow.
They should have burned with warrior's fire.
Instead, they resembled extinguished embers.
Beautiful.
But distant.
Like a goddess carved in stone—present, yet not entirely alive.
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