#until all of them die and alabaster is actually getting hunted down

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

So Hecate kids canonically kill eachother to get the title of the strongest, right?

Hc: The older Hecate kids made fratricide jokes aboard Princess Andromeda

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Paradoxical”

Part of the first contact series, I hope you like it. I was trying to throw in a few small things that you guys sent me that I couldn’t make an entire story out of. I hope you like that. 

He very much did not want to do this, he would rather spend a weak in the thorn-tail Glorg pit, but no, as a clerk to the Galactic Assembly, he had to do THIS….. it was almost worth it to think about quitting, but he supposed this job didn’t stack up to spending the rest of his life working in the Glorg pit, so he sighed picked up his Info-board, and headed out into in the crisp early-morning air. Ardus (the alabaster moon) was just beginning to sink towards the horizon. Tan’nas (Their blue moon still stood high in the sky. Their distant star was just beginning turn the sky a pale pink.

With trudging steps he made his way towards the distant edge of the city where the…. creatures had made their camp….. camp….. They were spending their time OUTSIDE, in…. in CLOTH houses like heathens… barbarians. WHO MADE HOUSES OUT OF CLOTH!

He took the last few steps slowly and with great caution, but heard nothing. With caution, he peeked into the cloth houses, and found them completely abandoned. He felt his circulation drop…. Not even 1/10 of a cycle, and he had already failed his job. It was the Glorg pit for sure now!

That’s when he heard the noises

In curiosity, and with a slight measure of hope, He turned following the distant thrumming through the ground. It was oddly…. Regular, almost mechanically regular beat.

Coming over the rise he nearly yipped in fear and fell back.

The humans were preparing for war…. Oh it was horrible, they walked beside each other in two terribly synchronized columns moving at the exact same timing and speed, a single beast with ten pairs of legs and ten pairs of arms…. And so, so many eyes. Their shadows marched beside them, long black cords of horribly perfect movement. He had no idea that humans had hive minds….. Oh, but they must being able to move like that. He had to tell the assembly. The humans began to move even faster now, keeping impossible step the rhythm of their feet jarring through the ground with a terrible power.

He couldn’t move, and while he was frozen, he finally noticed….. speech? It was barely recognizable as such spoken with that a sort of eerie rhythm.

“When my Granny was 91 she did PT just for fun!” The phrase repeated back, completely nonsensical as the humans jogged around the open field single body trampling delicate purple spindle-root. He had absolutely no idea what a PT, or a Granny was: ninety one of what?

“When my Granny was 95, she did PT to stay alive.” The mesmeric way they moved was almost to hypnotic to bare, and he scooted just a little bit closer.

“When my Granny was 97, she up and died and went to heaven. “ He was watching them from behind a rock now hoping they wouldn’t notice him in the high contrast landscape of morning.

“She met St. Peter at the pearly gate…. Said ‘St. Peter, hope I’m not late…. St. Peter said with a big ol’ grin…. ‘Get down Granny and knock out ten.” Together the column took another perfect lap chanting the whole wile.

“ON YOUR FACES!” He jumped nearly braining himself on a rock as the entire group of humans just fell to the ground onto all fours bodies stiff and ridged as they used their arms to push themselves away from the ground repeatedly, it didn’t really make sense.

They did many rounds of this before eventually leaping to their feet in perfectly aligned rows.

The human who had been calling instructions stood in front of the group, “LIEUTENANT VIR, wipe that idiot grin off your face!”

There was a pause, “Sgt. Can you tell him to do that?” One of the men wondered. The other human glowered at him.

“You’re damn right I can. Captain told me to keep an eye on his crazy ass self because he’s a reckless man child with a kink for being probed by aliens.” All the humans let of an odd repeated revving noise. He hunkered back into the rock.

A very lightly colored human on the front left of the group tilted his head, “Weren’t you stationed in Japan for a while, Sir.” The human was showing his teeth. The GA Clerk wasn’t really sure what that was supposed to mean.

“What are you implying lieutenant?” The man growled.

“Nothing Sir, I am trying to figure out which is worse: aliens or tentacles.” More of that odd revving noise broke up around the group. One of the humans didn’t make that sound looking around at his companions in what MUST have been confusion.

There was silence from the human until he to let off that odd revving noise then paused, “I don’t know kid, you tell me, some aliens have both….. Anyway, Were is that guy the GA were supposed to send?”

“You mean that guy right there?” One of the humans asked, before pointing directly at him.

He almost fell over and died. Right here in the early morning sunrise, his blood would paint the rocks blue.

All the humans turned to look, and then began approaching in an open line, the pale human, reaching him first, walked around in a wide circle as if he was examining his next meal. He felt like he was going to die. With his Info-pad held in front of him desperately, shaking he began, “The g-galactic as-assembly has asked that…. That I introduce you to our, our planet more formally, while peace talks…. Continue.”

“Cool, where do we start?”

He stuttered and stammered. Eventually the humans seemed to grow annoyed, “Why don’t we walk around and you just answer questions?”

That seemed fair.

He didn’t do anything that day accept for watch the humans as they entertained themselves. Of course these crazy creatures insisted on heading to the most dangerous areas starting by the Nion River (meaning the death river locally). Crouched in the bushes, the humans listened to the wildlife around them eyes scanning the area predatorily. A nearby Drig let off a chirping whirring noise.

The humans lifted their heads looking around. The light human raised his hands to the others, and then, amazingly, he let off that same whirring chirp. It was amazing, before long, the rest of the humans were mimicking the noise, and they were surrounded by a flock of Drig. At least it was amazing, until the purpose of the mimicking ability became apparent, and one of the humans sprung suddenly from a crouched position flying with all her predatory instinct through the air, catching one of the unsuspecting creatures midflight.

He chirped covering his eyes. The humans grew up in a sudden frenzy of noise, and he imagined them terribly tearing the poor creature apart with their teeth. When he opened his eyes, he saw something completely different.

“Look, you hurt it.” The light skinned human rebuked. Looking over, the clerk found the human holding the creature in his cupped hands. The other human that caught the creature dropped her head.

“I didn’t mean to hurt it, is it ok?” She reached out a hand to touch it, but the other human pulled his hands back closing them over the creature.  The other humans were gathered around trying to get a look. The pale human pulled back from them, “No, if you guys can’t contain yourselves around the wildlife, than you don’t deserve them.” He opened the palm of his hand using a single finger to stroke the creature’s head, “Isn’t that right, Snuffy.”

“You named it?” One of the humans asked, peering over his shoulder from the left.

The pale human shrugged away, “Yeah, I did, so be nice or shove off.”

He watched the humans in surprise and confusion as the pale human carried the Drig in the palms of his hands while the others crowded around him trying to get a good look. The humans had caught the creatures…. And then…. Named it, and were now caring for it? None of that made sense in context.

As they walked, the strange group of humans kept mimicking the wildlife, the more complex the sounds, the more fun the humans seemed to have trying to mimic it, they whirred, they buzzed, and they growled and popped over and over and over again. Most of the time he wouldn’t have been able to pick out the difference between the human and the animals, it was actually quite amazing.

They walked around for a few more hours like that stopping to feed the humans at the top of a hill watching as their third moon Demnis (the jade moon) rose above the horizon. It was larger than their other moons and was a lovely delicate shade of green at the height of summer. The pale human had taken off one of his boots and was allowing the injured creature to rest there in the light of the sun looking half dazed and confused as the other humans walked over to make sure the creature was ok, sometimes leaning down to stroke it on the top of the head as they did so.

After eating, the humans began some of their odd hunting war games with each other. He was sure they were practicing their skills as killers, stalking, and wrestling, preparing themselves for the perfect moment to kill. He made sure to hide himself well back from the group as a pair of humans got into it. It was the pale human with one of the others. They were standing using their hands in an attempt to throw the other to the ground and make hi submit to a more dominant force.

After a moment of struggle one of the humans managed to dislodge himself from the entanglement and push the other, hard, in the chest. The creature made a yip of surprise teetered backwards, landing on their back, overcorrecting and then bouncing head over heels to land on their side, and then go tumbling down the hill. All the humans rushed over to the edge, to make sure the other human was ok, but that didn’t really make sense…. Hadn’t he done that on purpose?

“Hey, you ok!” the lead human called down the hill

“Yeah, I’m good!” Jus at the bottom, the human hauled himself to his feet brushing dust from the front of his uniform like he hadn’t gone tumbling down a hill just now….. Humans must be indestructible.

“Was it fun!” The pale human yelled as the man pulled a rock from his boot.

“What?” he seemed confused?

“I said, was it fun!” he called again.

“Well….. Actually yeah, it was kind of fun.” The pale human turned to another and showed his teeth again.

“That’s a good enough answer for me.” And then without any provocation, the human threw himself down the hill. WHAT! Was this some kind of penance for almost hurting his own kind….. Punishing himself? But then one…. No two…. Four of the humans followed after laughing and whooping as they did so. They rolled and bounced stiff as boards arms tucked against their chests gaining speed until they finally rocketed past the other human and into the grass making that odd revving sound as they did.

One of the humans tried to raise, and toppled over sideways much to the amusement of his companions.

Once all the humans were standing again, they shuffled their way up the hill and…

DID IT AGAIN.

He just wanted to go home, he just wanted to go home and pretend this day never happened, why were the humans so scary, why did they have to be so confusing and doing insane things. They were hunters, but they would take care of the small animals they caught. They would play fight with others, and then ask if they were ok when it was done.

They threw themselves down steep inclines like it was some kind of game.

Stupid

Paradoxical.

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Fidget Spinners V      

           The farthest Cerberus mouth lunged towards Pax. Probably because Pax was now armed with the very item that had caused this puppers so much pain.

         Pax assumed he was going to die. He said a quick prayer to his Mayan gods and Catholic overlord and cowarded away as best he could.

         Instead of having three heads calls dibs on his own, the one that had hovered over the paw snapped at the others. It made a whining noise, disrupting the attack.

         Then, it leaned down and licked Pax from foot to hair.

         In the best of cartoon fashions, his hair stood up from the line of drool. If he hadn’t smelled like a corpse before, he did now. Normally, it took a lot for Pax to be grossed out. All he wanted to do was wipe off his face. Considering the rest of him was covered in the same gooey substance, that would do little good.

         “Good boy? Boys?” Pax said uncertainly. He slowly set the sword onto the ground, calming the growls of the other two heads.

         “Ajax..?” Alabaster’s voice hovered behind him. The relief in Alabaster’s tone made Pax want to hug the Witch Boy. It showed potential for Alabaster to look at him as more than a meat shield. Then again, this relief could come from Pax being a highly successful meat shield—a reusable one.

         When the friendly head lowered back towards Pax, Pax hesitantly reached a hand behind the dog’s ear. The dog made a face like it needed to sneeze. But, in good news, it didn’t rip his arm off. He reached up both hands two hands to rub behind the ears, realizing one might feel more like a flea.

         “Lou Ellen, stop!” Alabaster scolded.

         Lou Ellen giggled, rushing over to Pax’s side. She joined in the petting.

         Cerberus’s tail thudded the ground again, sending up little clouds of black dust.

         The middle head looked like it wanted to investigate Lou Ellen for more sausages. The furthest glared jealously at the pets.

         “Such a good boy!” Lou Ellen cooed.

         Alabaster made a sound of annoyance.

         Lou Ellen waved him off. “Could you take us to our friends?” she asked, “Would you be a good boy and do that?”

         Pax perked up at the idea. He put himself right under the friendly head’s snout. “One smells kind of like me,” he said.

         “If Axel was the one that stabbed him, is that such a good idea?” Alabaster asked. Pax suspected Alabaster was preparing a spell to make dogs vomit demigods. He had so little faith in them.

         “Axel did not stab him,” Pax said to Alabaster. He turned his attention back to Cerberus. There was a mini-dust storm from all the tail thumping. “How ‘bout it? Take me to my brother?”

         “Ajax, what makes you think it can understand you?”

         Pax could tell Alabaster had folded his arms by the skepticism in his voice.

         As though enjoying the challenge, Cerberus answered on his own. The friendly head leaned down to lift Pax up by his belt. The middle head got Lou Ellen. The angry one snapped up Alabaster by the nap of his shirt.

         Cerberus, tail wagging cheerfully behind him, began to trot down along the River Styx.

         So close to Cerberus’ mouth, all three of them gagged.

         “Can we please at least ride on your back!?” Alabaster shrieked.          

***

           They didn’t need to ride for long, which was fortunate: Alabaster sounded ready to behead at least one of Cerberus’ heads when the dog stopped.

         In retrospect, they didn’t need Cerberus to sniff out Axel. All they needed to do was follow the riverbank. Regardless, Pax was pleased they would arrive in style. And that Cerberus had a scent to follow. Part of Pax was terrified of what Alabaster would do to him and Lou Ellen if they got into the Underworld and found out that Luke, Axel, and Jack were already topside, celebrating a successful quest. Pax suspected that Alabaster wouldn’t pick weasel transformation as the punishment for having them unnecessarily picnic to Hades.

         He heard their friends before they saw them. The frantic trill of Jack’s angelic song was eerie in the black cavern, bouncing haphazardly off the stalactites and stalagmites, making it sound like a choir of dead church children.

         That type of singing was a bad sign. While Jack loved to hum aimlessly, that type of panicked song meant someone was hurt.

         When Pax saw the three figures—definitely too lively to be undead unless the Z or T virus was about to break out in the Underworld (something Pax would both pay to see and not to be part of)—Pax’s hopes sank.

Jack’s red hair spiked like a flare in the gloominess. Axel’s height was the next obvious silhouette.

Once they got close enough to see that Axel had withdrawn a sword at their approach, Pax noticed there weren’t three people here, but four. Luke was a crumpled heap in one of Axel’s arms.

Standing alongside their friends was an Ancient Greek dude that Pax had never seen before. This fourth guy was, in fact, a ghost, making Pax reconsider the stereotypes against ghosts.

         Axel’s muscles relaxed when Pax yipped, “Axel!”

         Pax meant to wait and let Alabaster lessen the blow for them. Until he saw Axel here, Pax hadn’t considered the asswhipping he was going to get once they got topside.

         Cerberus stopped three yards away, growling deeply.

         That’s when Pax remembered that, presumably, one of their friends had stabbed Cerberus’ paw. Pax crawled further up Cerberus’ neck to pet behind his hear and keep him calm. “It’s okay! Good boy! Nice boy! Thank-you-for-not-eating-us boy! You can let us down now, boy.”

         Lou Ellen must have been doing some similar cooing. Either Cerberus respected that Pax had helped him and really liked their pets, or he didn’t want to risk another stabbing. The Rottweiler let Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Pax jump off, gave one last snarl towards their friends—which sent Jack squealing—and dashed back upriver.

         Worry and anger flashed over Axel’s face upon recognizing Pax. Despite the chill of the Underworld, sweat soaked his shirt. His sword arm shook. The skin there was pink like he’d just withdrawn it from a vat of acid. Whatever scolding Axel might be preparing shattered when he saw Alabaster. Axel’s golden eyes softened with relief.

         “You brought Alabaster,” he said, shoving the sword back into its sheath.

         “I assure you, Pax and Lou Ellen had no intentions of being helpful,” Alabaster said. “What happened here?” His emerald gaze flicked suspiciously to the ghost.

         “Luke is hurt!” Jack cried. Without the echo of Jack’s eerie singing or the low thrum of Cerberus, the Underworld felt quiet, their sentences uncomfortable punctures in a natural silence.

         Axel must have felt this too. His muscles tensed. He lifted Luke’s limp body for Alabaster to examine.

         Pax swallowed. Luke looked like a new born baby or a cartoon piglet. His skin was pink, similar to Axel’s, except it looked way worse, because—you know—pasty white people. Jack would have slapped Pax upside the head for that one. Flynn would have agreed.      

         “He lost sight of what kept him mortal, so the River Styx started to burn him to ashes,” said the helpful, mysterious ghost, “I told him not to bear my curse.”

         “Achilles,” Alabaster said, nodding his head absently towards the spirit. He withdrew some latex gloves from a pouch along his waist and reached to lift Luke’s arm. “He looks pretty good for the River Styx trying to burn him.”

         Pax thought it was both terrifying and cute that Alabaster’s cold, scientific curiosity was triggered by their wrinkly friend. Pax and Lou Ellen fell silent on either side of him, staring in confusion at Luke’s marred skin. Mercedes would have scolded Pax for the awful job he’d done gathering information to hunt Axel down. All he knew was that Luke wanted to bath in the River Styx to become shiny or something. He didn’t understand the ghost’s presence or how skinnydipping could hurt someone.

         “He didn’t look like this a minute ago,” Axel said, clenching his jaw.

         Jack tugged at his hair. “I had to sing him back together! Alabaster, what went wrong!? And why isn’t he getting better?! I healed him—I—I made all the blisters go away—and his skin regrow—”

         Achilles shook his head. “I told you. His anchor wasn’t strong enough. I warned him—”

         “What does that mean?!” Axel demanded of the ghost. “And how do we fix him?”

         Luke’s breath came in shallow, sharp gasps. Shivers wracked his limbs. His eyes would open partially to reveal lazily listing whites. Similar to Axel, his body was soaked in sweat or—or likely River Styx water. Pax saw how polluted that thing was. Axel and Luke were likely to sprout even more super-human powers. Either that or become villains. It’s what happened when you swam with three-eyed fish.

         A pang of terror ran through Pax when he realized Axel must have reached into this acid-water to drag Luke out.

         “He’s in shock,” Alabaster said. He frowned, turning Luke’s hand over. The witch boy fished along his belt. Pax expected him to withdraw some ambrosia or some other healing substance.

         Instead, Alabaster withdrew a scalpel and stabbed Luke’s palm. That, Pax had to admit, was not in his Traditional Methods on How to Heal.

         Axel flinched and dragged Luke back.

         Jack shrieked, lunging to put himself between Alabaster and Luke.

         “What the Hades?!” Axel snapped.

         “Torrington!” Jack cried, sounding near actual tears. Probably because Jack knew he couldn’t beat someone as terrifying as Alabaster. Pax loved his surrogate father, but, uh, Alabaster could kick his ass.

         “The curse took successfully,” Alabaster said calmly.

         He rubbed the scalpel onto his sleeve before putting it away.

         When Pax squinted at Luke’s limp hand, he saw what Alabaster meant. There was no blood. There wasn’t a mark at all, even though Alabaster had put enough force to cut open a hell hound.

The River Styx didn’t just make people shiny, Pax realized in awe. It made them invulnerable. Or maybe invulnerability was the original myth…. Pax was bad with myths.

         “You had to fish him out,” Lou Ellen said, pointing at Axel’s arm. “Like Achilles’ mom did for him.”

         Alabaster brushed off Jack’s whines and panic. “It was more time efficient to stab him than explain I was going to stab him and have you protest.” Alabaster shifted his gaze to his half-sister. “Now, Lou Ellen, astute observation. Axel had to pull him out and Jack had to sing Luke back together, which means the River Styx should have killed him and it means he was in immense, horrific pain when you pulled him out. Jack healed him physically, but…”

         “He’s still in shock,” Lou Ellen cheered like she’d gotten the right answer on a test. When Axel and Jack gave her bewildered glances, she dropped her eyes to the black sand. “Sorry, got excited,” she said.

         Pax reached around Alabaster to pat Lou Ellen’s shoulder. He understood how exciting it was to meet Alabaster’s impossible expectations. “Can shock kill someone?” Pax asked, unsure why everyone was freaking out. Luke was out of the water, right?

         Jack paled. His fingers clutched at Luke’s soaked shirt. He squeaked when his fingers came back blistered. “Circulatory shock—he’s not getting enough blood—oxygen! That explains the weak pulse, the cold hands and feet, the—the—”

         The stutter broke into a song. Jack hovered his hands on either side of Luke’s sweaty, pale face. Luke’s shallow, rapid breath mixed with the fluttery, echoing words. “This is where the healing begins, oh, this is where the healing starts. When you come to where you’re broken within. The light meets the dark—”

         His frantic, bright eyes flicked desperately to Axel and Alabaster, as though to communicate a message.

         “But he’s supposed to be invulnerable,” Pax said, feeling small. At the sight of Jack’s renewed panic, he felt some of his own, contagious like a yawn.[1]

         “My curse makes one’s battle prowess beyond that of any mortal and will make one physically strong,” the ghost in ancient armor said, “However, it heightens all of one’s weaknesses. I know not of this circulatory shock, but—”

         Alabaster snorted, looking both scornful and bitter. “He was too weak-willed to handle this and the curse only intensified his weakness. We need to get him to the River Lethe.”

         Axel looked as confused as Pax felt. It took Pax a moment to realize Axel’s skin must be burning everywhere he touched Luke. Axel’s jaw clenched against it. “But—he’s not in the river anymore—”

         Alabaster motioned them away from the River Styx. “You’re talking about someone prone to vicious nightmares. Either his nerves are fried and he’s still in all of that pain, or he passed out and is stuck reliving the nightmare of it. Either way, his body is trying to give up and all that’s kept him alive is Jack’s singing. Unless any of you have morphine..?”

         Alabaster held the word in the air, like he genuinely expected someone to lift the drug.

         Axel scowled at him. He hated it when people insulated that he or Pax might have access to illegal drugs. Alabaster didn’t know why and likely meant nothing by it, but Pax could feel Axel tense in offense despite the circumstances. Pax could see the resemblance between Axel and their real father in the way Axel went still with rage.

         “No?” Alabaster surmised. “Very well. Then let’s get to the River Lethe. If we do a quick splash, it’ll hopefully erase just enough to make him forget the pain without forgetting who he is—”

         “His healing pow’r this very hour—Hopefully?!” Jack said between verses, “Shall give new life to thee!”

         “Unless you have a better idea?” Alabaster said. His emerald gaze flicked to the ghost.      

         Achilles shook his head. “This lack of mental fortitude is beyond my knowledge.”

         Pax was pretty sure this famous hero just called Luke a bitch.

         “There’s no other option then. Let’s go,” Axel said. He grunted and lifted Luke over his shoulders in a fireman carry.

         Pax wanted Axel to put a fire blanket between his body and Luke’s, or like, turn Luke into a bubble boy with a full hamster ball that they could push to the River Lethe, but Pax figured they didn’t have time for that.

         When he heard someone shout behind them, he realized they had no time at all.

         “There they are!”

         The shout belonged to a demented grandmother with wings and a fiery whip. She looked like something out of the weirdest porn links that Matthias had dared he open, thinking Pax wouldn’t take the challenge. He wished he hadn’t. It haunted his nightmares for weeks.

         Their pursuers were a soccer field away. Two more of those winged, leathery grandmothers flanked the first. Behind these scouts, a chariot rolled across the black sand.

         Pax felt his skin go cold. There was a small army of ghouls behind that chariot.

         Alabaster released a string of curses. Lou Ellen paled. Jack’s voice cracked in panic. Axel went to withdraw his sword again.

         “No, you idiot,” Alabaster growled. “The pit to Tartarus isn’t that far. We’ll be safer with my siblings down there.”

         Axel shoved Luke’s limp body into Alabaster’s arms. Fortunately, with the latex gloves, long sleeves, and whatever barrier Alabaster had put between himself and the earlier sausages, the residual Styx water didn’t seem to bother Alabaster.

         “They’ll overtake us,” Axel said. Once Luke was with Alabaster, he gave the Witch Boy a harsh shove down shore.

         Alabaster’s jaw dropped, in offense or disbelief, Pax wasn’t sure.

         Jack’s lips quivered. He stopped singing for a moment. “Axel..?”

         “Even with Lou Ellen here, you can’t create a Mist shield that could hide all of us without them seeing someone was here,” Axel said. “If they’re looking for someone, they’ll see through your Mist shield. Mist cracks under scrutiny. If they’re distracted because there is someone in front of them, you can sneak off. You’ll need you and Lou Ellen to keep the Mist shield up and Jack to keep Luke alive. Keep Ajax safe.”

         Pax shook violently. What was Axel saying?

         “You stubborn, stupid, arrogant—” Alabaster seethed.

         “Each insult is costing you a second that could be taking your to Tartarus,” Axel said. That voice was too calm, too accepting, too final. “Go.”

         Axel ruffled Pax’s hair with a forced, calming smile.

         When Pax glanced back up the shore, he saw why.

         That chariot radiated power. It wasn’t just a platoon of level-one fodder. That was a boss fight. An Underworld boss fight. One Pax was sure Axel wasn’t a high enough level to win.

         Not that anything could beat up Axel, Pax assured himself. It just didn’t follow a proper storyline. They hadn’t been at this war long enough. Not enough people knew how awesome Axel and his clever shirts were. He hadn’t even had a proper girlfriend yet, and Pax would be damned if he let anything happen to Axel before he got a proper girlfriend. Would he already be damned if they were in the Under—

         Focus, he told himself as Axel shoved Pax to Lou Ellen. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Axel said.

         Pax’s heart choked in his throat when Lou Ellen’s hands caught him. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t about to let this happen.

         “Fine!” Alabaster spit. “Get yourself killed.”

         The Witch Boy chanted in Latin, either casting a massive invisibility spell, or something to crack Axel’s will. Lou Ellen jumped into the chant, making Pax think it was an invisibility spell, since he doubted the children of Hecate had been practicing to subdue Pax boys in rhythmic harmony.

         Like earlier that day, sparks sputtered near Lou Ellen. She must have been nervous or at least upset at the concept of leaving Axel. Her voice broke once. At least the Mist shield wasn’t blinking like it had been.

         Now, at least, Pax knew one of Alabaster’s secrets for sure: he actually liked the Pax brothers. Either that, or they were too good a lab specimen to waste.

         “Oh God,” Jack whispered in horror. “We’re really doing this. B—”

         “Go!” Axel growled, his voice getting impatient. He took several steps away from the invisibility shield.

         Pax wanted to think everyone was weeping at the sight of this beautiful hero, but he couldn’t tell. Everyone had vanished. The only part that looked odd was the occasional spark drifting down from above his head.

         Vaguely, Pax wondered how Jack was going to keep singing to heal Luke. Maybe Alabaster could maintain silence and invisibility at the same time?

         “Come on, Ajax,” Lou Ellen said. Her voice cracked again.

         Pax wasn’t going to wait to see how they planned to save Luke without Jack’s singing. He felt her hand and jammed his thumb into the pressure point in Lou Ellen’s forearm. He figured, if he couldn’t see any of them, they couldn’t see him. That meant, if he ran far enough from their group—

         “Ajax!” Alabaster’s voice hissed.

         Okay, so maybe they could guess that he had run from Lou Ellen’s squeak of pain.

         By then, Axel was a few yards away and the furies were fast approaching, the chariot and army not far behind.

         Axel’s tufted ears twitched at Pax’s approach. Maybe it was the fact that the sand still shifted under Pax’s invisible feet. Maybe it was the fact that Pax smelled amazing or that Axel could usually see through the Mist. Whatever it was, Pax could see the instant Axel realized Pax had broken away from Alabaster, Lou Ellen, Jack, and Luke. It almost looked like Axel’s courage faltered.

         But neither of them could turn back now. Hades, Lord of the Underworld, was already descending upon them with his army.

  ***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D You’re about to hit the reason why this short story exists, and it is for a very stupid reason. Stay tuned next week to see Hades’ hospitality with our Pax boys!

I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

[1] I yawned every fucking time I edited this paragraph, which, unfortunately, had a lot of mistakes.

[rearadmiralanarchy]

Demon AU

Wow I finished this just as myrkks posted a chapter of a demon AU as well.

Guess it’s the season for demon AU’s

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15421230

Guido Mista's steps echoed loudly down the stone stairs of the formerly abandoned church, reverberating ominously as he slunk his way down to the catacombs below. Normally he wouldn't be meandering around a place of worship like this- but it was old and disused and the people he was looking for were way worse than he was (or so he reasoned). He was still nervous about killing people in God's house though.

To be fair, the people in question kind of had it coming; known for stealing, scamming, murdering, and apparently devil worshiping. Not really a big deal these days since it was 2017 and not the Dark Ages, but there were only so many women you could kill in weird rituals before people started noticing- and before you accidentally nab one that worked for Passione. Which is why Italy's biggest mafia could no longer just ignore the weirdos and tasked Polpo to task someone (Buccelati) to take them out.

Abbachio was their strongest physically for sure and Fugo was pretty damn clever, but Mista was a sharpshooter and would have a better shot (heh) of getting all the bastards in one swoop. So he was given the orders and location from the higher ups, a good luck from Buccelati, and a graze along his midriff as a souvenir from the second guy he found. There were six cultists total and none were particularly dangerous on their own, but Mista did best in one on ones and not three on ones so he may have gotten hit once or twice. It was fine though, this was fine, he only had two more to go before he could head back.

At the bottom of the steps Mista was met with the soft glow of candles interspersed throughout a larger room with a few closed doors and a long hallway. The candlelight didn't do shit, the weak light barely even hit the floor and Mista regretted not bringing any kind of flashlight except the one built into his almost dead phone. Moving to stand towards the center of the room, Mista fumbled with getting his cellphone out, swearing as it jostled the graze on his side reopened the wound. All he could hear was his blood dripping onto the floor in the deathly quiet room, the near silence making his hair stand on end. The cultists had probably hidden themselves away deeper into the catacombs of the church in a last ditch effort to avoid the gunman which meant he had to play a little hide and seek.

Sighing at how much of a hassle looking for a couple of freaks was turning out to be, Mista flicked on the flashlight app only to pause. He was standing in some kind of chalked circle- more like two actually, one was just embedded in the other with weird markings in it. There was a point coming off the circle and leading somewhere but as Mista was following it his phone dropped to 5% and shut the light off. The last thing he caught sight of was an ominous fog roiling up from somewhere before all the candles were instantly snuffed out. The room seemed to drop in temperature in a blink, slightly cool air turning frigid as the gunman was dropped into an inky pitch black darkness.

Thoroughly freaked out, Mista looked behind him for the stairs but couldn't see anything, despite knowing damn well that the stairs were lit. Swearing low Mista took a step in the direction he was sure led to the stairwell only to freeze at the sudden sound of breathy laughter. In a nanosecond the safety was off and the hammer cocked back, the gunman pointing his pistol at the source- only to find nothing but darkness. There was an uneasy pause before all the candles re-lit themselves with odd soft yellow flames, startling the gunman. He still couldn't see much, but what he could see left him wide-eyed and immobile.

From the floor, vines and roots were suddenly growing from some kind of small glowing hole in the ground, rapidly widening to accommodate more plants and eventually a hand- pale alabaster with sharpened, red-tipped nails grasping and clawing the stone. An arm was next, then a head crowned in golden curls and reddish-pink horns, until eventually a man stood in front of the shaking gunman.

A very, very beautiful and very, very naked man.

The figure before him had sharp blue eyes with slit pupils, golden markings like tears swooping down his cheeks, and a soft smile-widening to show off a set of wicked fangs. A demon. There was a literal demon standing in front of him, horns and fangs and beautiful in God's own house. Mista was anything but prepared for this. The demon took a step towards him and muscle memory carried his pistol up to aim between curious glittering eyes- or at least the general vicinity of them since his arm was shaking so badly.

The demon hardly seemed fazed, smiling bright, "so you are the one who summoned me."

Summoned? Mista did?

"I didn't- I don't know what you are talking about," his voice was the steadiest part of him, unable to believe it.

"But my name is written, and there are fruits from the surface as an offering," and moving quicker than the gunman could react the blond demon pressed his fingers to the wound on Mista's side, "blood from the summoner, and the deaths of the wicked to pay my way to this world."

Mista thought only virgin girls or goats were used for demon summonings and thought about asking but the sudden pain in his side had him swearing instead. Under red and white fingers the wound began to knit itself back together- like a plug expanding itself to fix his flesh. He was at a loss for words, gun forgotten and mouth opening and closing like a fish as the once ruined flesh became whole again and the demon licked the blood from his fingers like a contented cat.

"I... you're real," whispered into the dark.

The blond nodded, "from the depths of Hell itself," purring, "I look forward to serving you, Guido Mista."

"S-serving me," it felt like someone else was talking with his voice as he found himself against a wall.

His head was spinning, he'd just accidentally summoned an actual fucking demon in the basement of a church.

"Anything you need or want, I can provide," the demon had let him back up to the wall and followed him as he slid down, squatting in front of the gunman with his cheek in his palm, "I'm bound to you now, after all."

A demon was bound to him- this was-

"You'll do anything I want," questioned hollowly.

The blond smiled soft at him, tips of his fangs barely poking over his bottom lip, "I can deny you nothing."

A pause-

"Can I tell you to leave then? And you'd do it?"

Blue eyes widened and the smile disappeared in the wake of a sad look, "if you wanted to dismiss me I couldn't stop you...but... have I... have I done something wrong?"

The hell-spawn looked heartbroken, so much so that it made Mista's gut shift in guilt at having made him look so- what was he thinking, this was a demon, "no it's just-"

Shit, there were actual tears- "if I have displeased you, it wasn't my intention"

"That's not it, it's just that you... you are a demon- and I didn't mean to summon you, I don't know how to or anything," Mista spilled, "you just... shouldn't be here, is all."

The demon was staring at him, eyes still a bit shimmery, and completely silent for a few heart-pounding moments.

"You didn't mean to summon me?"

Mista shook his head, "no, the cultists I'm hunting were trying to. This was... this was an accident."

The demon flickered his eyes down to the side, "I see," a thoughtful if odd look passed over his face, "so you don't want me then."

A statement so quiet that Mista wasn't sure he'd heard at first, all he could manage to croak out was an "I'm sorry... How do I dismiss you?"

Mournful blue eyes met his for the briefest moment before looking away, "you fulfill your end of the bargain. You give me your soul."

Certainly he didn't hear that right- "my- my what?"

"Your soul," the demon cocked his head to the side, "it's the bartering chip for all summonings. I do whatever the summoner bids me to, and at the end of our contract I receive the summoner's soul."

Mista felt as though the very Earth had shattered under his feet, his world breaking apart and feeling unable to stop it, "what... do you do with the souls?"

The blond demon had shifted to sit, "normally I'd eat them, but I haven't decided what to do with yours yet."

Oh good, Mista barked out an empty laugh. He was so fucked.

This was so fucked, "Mista."

Hollow black eyes met forlorn blue, "will you still dismiss me?"

He wanted to live- to keep going carefree as always but now- "you don't want me too?"

The blond shook his head, "I want to live on the surface."

"Why? What would you do up there if I you could- if I didn't dismiss you or anything?"

The demon looked thoughtful, mulling over his response until eventually, "I want to see the sun."

Something so simple, probably to deceive him, "really now? That's all?"

The demon smiled sharp but shy, "there are other things- all rather minor I suppose but never get to indulge in- things to taste and look at, things to explore. I've not been summoned in a very long time."

Mista thunked his head back against the clammy stone, quiet for a bit while thinking as much as he could with those piercing eyes on him. He didn't have a lot of options- safe to say he had maybe two. First option; be the hero and dismiss the demon at the cost of his everlasting soul and die (?) on the spot and accomplish... something? He wasn't sure. Option two: live out the rest of his bullet riddled days with the permanent addition of a demon at his side and then eventually die and have his soul... put in a jar or eaten or whatever. Option one was way too heroic and he really wanted to stay alive, but option 2 was terrifying in it's own way- mainly because he'd now be living with a demon. Albeit a very cute demon, but a demon nonetheless. If he could stay alive he maybe could look into how to maybe not get his soul eaten and still do the good Christian thing and send a demon back to hell. God it sounded like something from a shitty, angsty teen novel.

The choice was clear though, and Mista gritted out a "you'll really do anything I ask, no matter what?"

The blond nodded, "anything."

"You won't try anything funny?"

Smiling with those wicked fangs, the demon purred "only to make you laugh."

Mista huffed, "you can stay but-" cutting off the blond as he opened his mouth, "-only on my terms and your best behavior," sticking out his hand to shake, "deal?"

"Deal," the demon agreed almost immediately and after a brief moment staring curiously at Mista's offered hand, clasped it with both his.

Well close enough.

Picking himself back up, "what exactly am I going to be calling you, other than 'demon'?"

"Giorno," the blond responded, walking into the darkness between candles before returning to Mista's side with a peach.

Right, fruits from the surface as an offering- those cultist bastards.

"Will we be going outside now," asked almost innocently between bites.

"Not yet," call him petty but those pieces of shit made him summon a demon (in a bit of a roundabout sense) so there would be hell to pay- damnit.

"I got a few people I gotta kill here first," it was going to be hard using phrases like that given his new circumstances.

A long and forked tongue slipped out to lick at a dribble of juice sliding down the demon- Giorno's- chin, "the two men hiding a few rooms over down the hall?"

Tearing his eyes away from the interesting tongue to narrow them at the blond's eyes instead, "you know where they are?"

The demon carelessly tossed the pit to the side, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, "I know exactly where they are. Would you like me to show you?"

"Fuck yes," he had words to exchange- and by words he meant bullets.

Giorno was a two in one bloodhound/flashlight combo leading Mista through the catacombs with a smile and a hand covered in pale gold flames. He'd never seen any kind of fire like that but he wasn't exactly a fire expert and it lit up the hall pretty well so whatever. Both remaining cultists were supposedly  holed up in one room at the very end of the hallway so he could either flush them out or go in guns blazing. All semblance of stealth was lost anyway given the light from Giorno's hand so Mista decided he might as well just go in and do his business- no sense waiting around any longer.

"Can uh, bullets hurt you?"

"Not particularly."

"Perfect," giving his pistol a quick once over, "stand in the doorway after I go in, will you?"

Blue eyes blinked, "would you like for me to slay them instead?"

"Heh, no, this is something I'm personally looking forward to."

Giorno smiled again, "I wish you good fortune then."

What a supportive friend for life he had acquired, and all it cost was his soul.

Standing outside the door Mista listened in for a few moments, but heard nothing. Shrugging, he lifted a leg and kicked- splintering the wood in a dusty cloud and then rolling into the room like an action hero. It hurt his shoulders but it allowed him to take cover behind some kind of barrel or whatever. Both cultists seemed way too surprised that he had found them, but even more surprised to see Giorno yawning in the doorway to properly fire their guns. The dumbasses were so focused on the golden demon either way that they missed the vindictive gunman until it was far too late.

.......

Wiping his hands off on the rag he carried specifically for just that purpose (he'd ruined way too many pairs of pants before he finally learned), Mista absently checked his phone. It was at 2% battery life but he could at least gauge the time- about three and a half hours had passed since he first started and he had been due for a check in with Buccelati about fifteen minutes ago. God, what was he even going to tell him?

'Hey boss, sorry for the delay I kind of accidentally summoned a demon.' He couldn't tell Buccelati, not yet at least. He was already late to call, and he had another hour and a half before the cavalry would be sent in to check on him so Mista turned his attention back to the biggest problem at hand: what to do with his obviously inhuman companion. He'd have to tell his boss eventually, but for now he kind of just wanted to deal with that later- maybe in the comfort of his apartment, but getting the blond there would be easier said than done. Between the horns, scales, claws, fangs, markings, and nudity, he wasn't entirely sure where to begin.

"Can you like uh, turn invisible, Giorno?"

The demon hummed, "not really. Some can, but I'm rather... specialized. A portion of the human population will always be able to see me."

Damn, "can you like- materialize clothes with demon magic and or hide your horns and such or something? Make yourself look a little more human?"

Giorno huffed, "if that's what you wish," as he raised his clawed hands to rub across his cheeks and up to the tips of his gently curved horns.

Under his touch the golden markings, scales, and horns melted into yellow and pink petals and ruby red butterflies. His eyes no longer had slit pupils, but were still a sharp blue, vibrant even in the strange light. He was painfully ethereal and inhumanly beautiful, but now he looked more like a human (or an angel) and less like a denizen of hell. He was still very nude and there was still an odd pointy mark on his left shoulder, but it was workable.

"So, clothes?"

Giorno rolled his eyes, "if you insist."

"Oh, I do," he'd been doing his best not to stare at the demon's junk and there was no way he was taking a nude man outside with him in broad daylight.

Red slits began forming on the blond's sides, arms, and legs, thin but stretching as if to cut him in half vertically From the lines, pink threads began stretching across his arms and chest- knitting themselves into some kind of pink suit jacket and slacks, sinfully tight and leaving a heart shaped hole above the chest. The blond then opened his mouth and three freakishly large ladybugs came crawling out in a cloud of golden beetles to arrange themselves around the cut out and along the fake seams like living embellishments. Overall it was the single most nauseatingly terrifying thing he'd ever seen.

"You... you still have- your mouth," Giorno had neglected the fangs and elongated tongue- arguably the least of his problems right now, but it was the principle of the thing.

The blond scrunched up his nose before showing off his mouth for inspection. His canines and tongue were still longer than normal, but passable enough- and Mista really didn't want to see what new horrors would come out of him asking to fix those too. Now that the blond was dressed in arguably dubious fashion and fabric (?), Mista went back up the stairs, swearing at the light trickling through softly but blinding after being in the dark for so long. The blond demon seemed utterly mesmerized after him, staring up at the geometric stained glass with wonder in his wide eyes. It was cute but also kind of weird.

Passing by the dead bodies of the gunned down cultists, Mista led his new companion over to his car, unlocking it with a click and sliding into the front seat with a sigh. He was midway through fumbling with the car charger when he realized Giorno hadn't moved to get in and was just staring confused. Right, demon from hell, unfamiliar with modern technology-

The gunman rolled down his window, "just uh, pull on the handle," watching as the blond touched the door where Mista assumed it was, "yeah, and just pull up."

Giorno looked startled when the door actually opened, sliding into the seat with just the barest hint of hesitation, "what does this contraption do, exactly?"

Wow, "we uh, drive it places. Like... horses? But mechanical."

The blond pouted slightly, "you'd replace such noble creatures?"

Mista blinked at the demon before turning to stare out the front window, "I guess?"

He'd need to introduce Giorno to the magic of Google when he got home. The drive took about twenty seven minutes, all of which were spent with the blond pressed to the passenger side window in mute fascination.

Halfway through Mista finally asked, "when was the last time you were summoned anyway?"

The blond hummed noncommittally, "when the humans were just starting to build a grand Colosseum. Do you know if they ever finished it?"

Well shit.

Mista had given him a promise to show him pictures sometime, to which he was given a soft smile in return. His apartment complex was a welcome respite as he trudged up to the third floor, unlocking it and throwing his keys in  the chipped bowl beside the door with a sigh. Giorno watched as he tugged off his high boots, copying him after a moment by melting his weird flesh loafers into a tiny pile of autumnal colored leaves. Mista stared, but ultimately gave up. Setting the blond up on his couch watching some kind of history channel nonsense, Mista went to the adjoined kitchen to call Buccelati- a task over with in less than ten minutes. Normally he'd not be so short with the man, Buccelati was easy to talk to after all, but his brain was thoroughly fried and he wasn't entirely certain of how well he could keep his new demon buddy a secret. Looking over at said demon buddy still watching the television with almost studious fascination, Mista felt a pang at how utterly fucked up this whole thing was. There was no helping it now though, sighing as he began rummaging around for that leftover pizza in the fridge and sticking a few pieces in the microwave.

"Giorno," the blond appeared nearby entirely too quick, "do you uh, need to eat?"

Mista was completely clueless on how to take care of contracted demonic companions.

"Not particularly, but I'd like to try things, if that's alright with you," with a smile so soft it made Mista's heart lurch.

Luckily, he was saved from any further thoughts he should definitely not be entertaining by the ding of the microwave. Giorno visibly startled at the sound, gold flames flickering across his arms briefly until curiosity replaced suspicion, blue eyes flicking to Mista for some kind of description.

"It heats food, using waves of energy," and at Giorno's disbelieving look, "I'll show you a video on how it works eventually."

The pizza was from two nights ago, but filled Mista's stomach with a solid weight that left him feeling a little sluggish but content.

His demonic dinner guest had given a single slice a tentative taste before tucking in like the starved, devouring a second slice as Mista asked "you like pizza then", to which the blond had only nodded.

It was about seven when the two finished their dinner and Mista was personally ready to call it an early night forever. The stress of the day- not so much the mission so much as the acquisition of a new forever friend- had left him feeling wrung out and tired down to his core. Showing Giorno the basics of the remote, giving a brief tour of the small apartment, a briefer explanation of the bathroom (the blond was incredibly fascinated by the shower), Mista washed up and headed to bed. Staring at the ceiling for a bit, listening to ambient sounds of the Animal Planet channel from through his door, Mista prayed to God for the first time in years. Praying that this was all just a very realistic and detailed dream before falling asleep.