Oh, hells. Me, as a goddess. Me. I... I didn't know what to say. I said as much.

Markov's face stretched in a warm, fatherly smile. “Looking over your resume, you are more than qualified for one particular opening. Raised as an assassin, you have a healthy track record of clean kills and have met all your quarterly quotas of fear instilled. Your work in Eiskalt in particular shows that you check all the boxes.”

Despite myself, I felt my neck and face getting hotter. If I had, y'know, regular human skin and all, I'd be blushing.

“And the ingenuity you showed when creating Magic Killer for the Alerarans is very promising,” he continued. “Your body of work is impressive, and feel that you would be a valuable addition to Pantheon Solutions, Ltd.”

I mean, holy shit. I could become a goddess. Maybe not in the literal sense; it couldn't be this easy, right? I know many have tried to ascend to godhood, but have completely crashed and burned before they could reach it.

But then again, from the way Markov put it, I would actually be a goddess. I could use my extensive knowledge on various subjects to actually do some friggin' good for a change. ...I wonder how that would actually feel? Would I get the warm and fuzzies? Or would it leave me feeling even emptier than I usually do?

First, the most important part of a job interview. As excited as the possibilities were making me--

“I have a few questions.”

Markov nodded, clasping his hands tightly on the table. “Of course. Go ahead, Miss Freebird.”

Which one to ask first? Let's go with the obvious one. “What would my duties as...” The word caught on my tongue. Normally, I wasn't one to believe in them, but now... “...as a goddess entail?”

The God of War took a deep breath and carried on for what must have been a solid half hour or so. The short of it; I would be a part of a two-man (two-god?) team, tasked with “sales”. What that meant as far as Pantheon Solutions, Ltd. was concerned was... How did he put it? Sometimes, potential clients needed to be “sold” on the necessity of a higher power or powers. My job would entail demonstrating to the unwashed masses why they should have someone with a bit of the old omnipotence on their side, saving their asses every time the Big Bad Spooky Plant Lady From The Old Legends comes calling.

How would I do that, you ask?

Plagues. Lots of plagues.

Insects, blight, boils, snakes, sneezes, bacterial and viral. All the good stuff.

My wheelhouse.

I was sold. I was in, and Markov knew it.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Freebird,” he said with a grin as he extended his hand.

I wonder if Hyperion would like to be my high priestess. Maybe I could bring her on as an unpaid intern.