ã€ŠCrossroads: Tension - Book IIã€‹


 A hard invitation to refuse

    Derrek knew ruthlessness. He knew the depths people would stoop to see their work done. He had seen some of the deepest firsthand. He had grappled with a cannibalistic ghoul. He had survived single combat with a hunter obsessed with taking his head. He had even stood face to face with a Reaper, and had killed that Reaper to boot. But he had never laid eyes on people with more bloodthirsty a look than his board of directors.

    ¡°With all due respect, Mr. Snowe,¡± began the head of accounting, Bill Barnes, in yet another in a long list of contrarian assertions, ¡°it would be in the company¡¯s interests to put a suspension on ecological survey excursions for the foreseeable future.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Derrek asked, feigning surprise, ¡°And why might that be?¡±

    Barnes¡¯ eyes narrowed, ¡°Considering the costs of housing, transportation of personnel and equipment, security, not to mention the political red tape we have to cut through in every foreign country we travel to, I believe the numbers speak for themselves.¡±

    He then turned his head to the projected screen at the foot of the table and clicked the remote in his hand, changing the slide.

    ¡°In the seventy-six surveys we have embarked on, we have not turned a profit on a single one. In fact, we have accrued no less than two hundred million in pure losses. I simply cannot justify continuing under our circumstances.¡±

    Derrek raised an eyebrow as the board''s attention drifted back to him, Barnes with a smug look in his eye, even though his mouth stayed locked in a permanent frown.

    ¡°Circumstances? Why you couldn¡¯t possibly mean the recent change in leadership, could you? Cheryl,¡± he shifted his gaze over to a plump woman with curly brown hair, ¡°could you please read out the stock growth over the first three quarters of 2035?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, let¡¯s see¡­¡± she shuffled through a large folder of papers, ¡°Ah, here we are. Profits dropped by 6.12% in the first quarter, recovered it and earned an extra 3.55% in the second, and even further in the third with another rise of 7.2%.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Cheryl. Now, would you be so kind as to read off the quarter since I took charge?¡±

    ¡°That would be a sharp increase of 12.74%, a welcome departure from our predictions of losses if I do say so myself.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Derrek said as he looked back at Barnes, ¡°it would seem the numbers speak for themselves. In fact, I¡¯d like to propose an increase in excursions from the usual three a year to five, as well as increasing their budget by 5% all around.¡±

    ¡°Seconded,¡± said Samantha to his left.

    ¡°Wonderful. All in favor?¡±

    Sam wasted no time raising her hand, nor did Cheryl or Kenith, as was to be expected. Shortly afterward, he saw the hand of Isabelle, then Carter, and finally Ian rise in agreement. Ever the pragmatist, Barnes begrudgingly followed suit, never wanting to be the odd man out.

    ¡°Then it¡¯s settled,¡± Derrek said as he checked his watch, ¡°and just under the wire, it seems our time is up. As always, it''s been a pleasure, and I¡¯ll see you in two weeks. I¡¯d love to give proper farewells, but I have a meeting scheduled for five minutes from now, and I pride myself on my punctuality.¡±

    He rose from the head of the table, straightened his tie, then made his way to the door. As soon as it closed behind him, he let out a long sigh.

    ¡°The madhouse taking its toll yet, young buck?¡±

    He looked to his right and was greeted by a man with a thick set of glasses and a mug of coffee in his hand.

    ¡°Jenkins, what brings you up to corporate?¡±

    He gestured to his mug, ¡°They¡¯ve got better coffee up here.¡±

    Derrek smiled warmly and waved over to him, ¡°I¡¯ve got a meeting to get to, walk with me.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± Jenkins said with an exaggerated salute.

    ¡°I think I prefer young buck to sir,¡± Derrek said as he started down the hallway, Jenkins struggling to keep pace with his aged knees as they passed through the buzzing swarm of people, all rushing to get their work done.

    ¡°Some things never change,¡± he said, short on breath, ¡°always keen to do some work or another.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called a work ethic, Neil.¡±

    ¡°Sounds rough, I¡¯d much rather keep my head down and live comfortably.¡±

    As they reached the elevator at the end of the hall, Derrek looked at him slyly, pushed the call button, then said, ¡°And that''s why I¡¯m your boss now.¡±

    Jenkins chuckled, ¡°If that''s all it takes, maybe I¡¯ll be your boss before it¡¯s all over.¡±

    ¡°Stranger things have happened,¡± Derrek said as the door opened. The men boarded, and he pressed the button for the top floor, ¡°How¡¯s the family? Did Shannon¡¯s recital go well?¡±

    ¡°Honestly,¡± Jenkins said with a grimace, ¡°I don¡¯t know why I pay for her lessons, she still plays the oboe like it¡¯s some kind of baritone snake. I¡¯m proud as hell that she got up and performed, but still.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll get better with time,¡± Derrek said with a smile as the elevator stopped, ¡°This is me, why don¡¯t you go do some work?¡±

    A smile crawled across Jenkins¡¯ face, ¡°Reckon I¡¯ll take it easy, don¡¯t want to dethrone you anytime soon!¡± And burst into laughter. Derrek smiled and let himself share in a chuckle.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Neil,¡± he said as he extended his hand.

    After catching his breath from all the laughter, Jenkins straightened himself and grabbed Derrek¡¯s hand.

    ¡°It was good seeing you too, young buck. Swing by your old stomping grounds sometime, I¡¯d love to see Hanes¡¯ face when he sees you.¡±

    ¡°I just might.¡±

    The men let go, and Derrek left the elevator, making his way to his office.

    The waiting area outside his office was empty for once, save for Janice, his secretary, who was packing her desk up for the night. She perked up when she heard Derrek walk toward her.

    ¡°Your six o¡¯clock is waiting for you, Mr. Snowe.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Janice,¡± Derrek said without breaking his stride, ¡°Don¡¯t forget to clock out before you leave, payroll had a hell of a time when you stayed clocked in on your last vacation.¡±

    Janice gave a short laugh, then went back to packing her purse, ¡°Sure thing, have a good weekend!¡±

    ¡°You too,¡± he said, opening the huge door to his office, ¡°see you Monday.¡±

    As he entered the spacious room, well-lit from the setting sun, he closed the massive door behind him, the loud click as it latched comforting as always. He stood, facing the door for a brief moment, running a hand across it, admiring the woodwork that had once been Shale¡¯s childhood home.

    ¡°Gotta admire good craftsmanship,¡± came a cheery voice from behind him. He turned to see a familiar face, draped in the same red coat he always wore, sitting in Derrek''s chair, with his feet on his desk and a glass filled to the brim with what looked to be from the bottle of whiskey he was saving for a special occasion.

    ¡°Discord,¡± Derrek said it with a smile, ¡°get the fuck out of my chair.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Discord sprung up, sauntered around the desk, and slumped down into one of the chairs opposite, ¡°can''t be the boss without a big chair all to yourself, right?¡±

    ¡°But of course,¡± said Derrek as he took his seat, ¡°What''s the point of being in charge if you don''t get the best seat in the house?¡±

    ¡°Sure can¡¯t beat that view.¡±

    Derrek swiveled his chair around and looked at the city below, the sun hanging low in the sky as the day was coming to a close. The hustle and bustle never seemed to let up, never seemed to slow, a sentiment that had always resonated with him.

    ¡°No, no you can¡¯t,¡± Derrek turned back around, ¡°Would you be so kind as to fill me in on some of the details of what you have planned? There¡¯s only so much I can make of, ¡®I wanna introduce you to some friends.¡¯¡±

    Discord smirked, ¡°Honestly, that was kinda the point. You would¡¯ve had some major doubts if I said we were gonna meet some Warrior Spirits.¡±

    Derrek blinked, then stared at Discord in silence for several seconds.

    ¡°Warrior Spirits.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Like you.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±

    ¡°With the instinct to, as you put it, ¡®murder the shit¡¯ out of me on sight.¡±

    ¡°Those are the ones.¡±

    Derrek leaned forward over his desk, rubbing his temples as Discord threw back the entire glass in one gulp.

    ¡°I have a lot riding on me now, Discord,¡± he said, looking the red-draped man in the eye, ¡°if you¡¯re going to lead me to my death from now on, I need a heads up.¡±

    Discord let out a groan and flamboyantly rolled his eyes, ¡°Fine, whatever you say,¡± then, out the side of his mouth, muttered, ¡°Killjoy.¡±

    ¡°Call me a killjoy all you want, but I need some real information.¡±

    Another groan and an even more exaggerated eye roll later, he set down his glass and met Derrek¡¯s eye.

    ¡°They¡¯re three of the people I trust the most, and they largely trust me. If I ask them to come unarmed, which I did, it¡¯s safe to assume they¡¯ll do so.¡±

    ¡°Are you just incapable of giving a straightforward answer?¡±

    A smile crept Its way across Discord¡¯s face, ¡°I think you¡¯ve known me long enough to know the answer to that one.¡±

    ¡°When I asked for info,¡± Derrek said as his brow furrowed, ¡°I meant something along the lines of their names, their stations, anything that might actually be useful.¡±

    ¡°Come now,¡± Discord said, producing a flask from his coat, ¡°you know how I feel about spoilers.¡±

    ¡°And you know how I feel about my continued existence.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, I¡¯ll be there, you¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me if that doesn¡¯t inspire confidence.¡±

    ¡°Apology accepted.¡±

    It was now Derrek''s turn to groan as he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°Where are we meeting them?¡± He asked after a brief moment.

    Discord¡¯s smile grew a hair wider, ¡°Some run-down bar an old buddy of mine used to own. Nice place, all things considered.¡±

    Derrek sighed and opened his eyes, ¡°We may as well get going, then,¡± he said as he retrieved his pistol, Lilith, from a desk drawer.

    ¡°Leave her.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I asked them to come unarmed, so you should too.¡±

    ¡°And what if they don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll have the moral high ground.¡±

    ¡°What about you? Your coat is full of guns, are you leaving that behind?¡±

    ¡°Come on, I make the rules, I don¡¯t follow them.¡±

    ¡°Have I ever told you you¡¯re an asshole?¡±

    ¡°Once, back at that cave.¡±

    Derrek remembered waking up in the depths of that cave, blindly stumbling around in the darkness, being chased by that ¡®cave monster,¡¯ as Discord called it. He looked down at the small, circular scar in the meat of his hand and shivered.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he said, putting the pistol back in its place and locking the drawer, ¡°But if they kill me, I¡¯m going to haunt you.¡±

    ¡°That''s the spirit!¡± Discord took a long swallow from his flash, tucking it back into his coat before he sprung up from the chair, ¡°Let¡¯s go, the bikes are idling out front.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just take my car?¡±

    They stared at each other for several seconds before they both broke out into laughter, and made their way to the elevator.

    Wherever Derrek and Discord rode, they raced, and this was no exception.

    Rush hour traffic was winding down, but the roads were still relatively packed, just enough to make keeping up interesting. The road stretched before Derrek as he sped past the buildings that lined the streets like trees, the only constant image being the red motorcycle just ahead of him, the same color as its riders¡¯ flowing coat.

    In his helmet, he heard a split second of static followed by, ¡°Breaker breaker, this is Red Ranger two-two calling for Ghost Rider. Ghost Rider, do you copy? Over.¡±

    ¡°Ghost Rider? That''s the best you could come up with?¡±

    His helmet was silent for several seconds. He let out a sigh, then begrudgingly added, ¡°Over.¡±

    Immediately, Discord replied, ¡°Worry about it later, we¡¯ve got company. Over.¡±

    Derrek caught a blue flash in the corner of his eye and looked in one of his mirrors. Behind him were two police cars, sirens blaring and lights flashing bright in the low evening light.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± He asked, squeezing the throttle tighter, ¡°Over.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re just beat cops, they won¡¯t chase us if they can¡¯t justify it.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t say over.¡±

    He saw Discord, no more than twenty feet ahead, turn his head and smile at him, ¡°Neither did you.¡±

    ¡°What, it doesn¡¯t count when you end your sentence with ¡®over?¡¯¡±

    Discord laughed and looked back to the road, ¡°Nope. Try to keep up.¡±

    ¡°What are you-¡±

    Before he could finish his question, the black and red motorcycle ahead of him sped up and took a sharp turn. He only had a split second to do the same, leaning so far he could feel the asphalt scrape against the side of his leg. He righted himself just in time to see the police cars rush past in his mirror, their brakes squealing. He followed Discord through several more turns, narrowly dodging traffic, getting a better feel with every bend.

    When the pace finally slowed and Discord stopped making turns, Derrek realized where they were. Some time in the last few turns, they had wound up in Pigeon Park. The further they went, the fewer working streetlights he saw; after a few minutes they were relying on their headlights alone, reflecting back at him from the broken windows of run-down buildings

    ¡°Do you make it out this way often?¡± Discord asked over the radio.

    ¡°I used to, but it''s been a while.¡±

    ¡°Have you been since the pigeons came to roost?¡±

    ¡°No, it was still Brooklyn then.¡±

    ¡°You ever heard why they did it?¡±

    ¡°Would you stop beating around the bush and tell me how you caused it?¡±

    Discord turned to face him, a look of injured innocence on his face which quickly faded into a smirk, ¡°Alright, you got me. An old druid buddy of mine had to go into hiding a few years back. I set him up in a Null Dome on one of these abandoned buildings, plenty of wards to stay out of people''s attention. Has a fondness for doves. I swear, all he does is bake bread and grow pot.¡±

    ¡°Do you ever have any downtime? Where you don''t do anything at all?¡±

    ¡°I-,¡± he was suddenly silent. For several seconds all Derrek could hear was the roar of his engine. He was about to ask if he was still there when Discord spoke up again.

    ¡°I haven''t done nothing in years. I''ve been too busy doing everything.¡±

    There was something about his voice, something missing. His words were flat, emotionless, as though it was some grim realization. Their ride was silent for several more seconds until Derrek spoke up.

    ¡°Take a day off then.¡±

    Discord straightened slightly, easing off his throttle until he and Derrek were side by side.

    ¡°A day off from what? Pissing off governments and doing favors for gods? Or vice-versa?¡± he laughed, ¡°I barely have any ¡®on¡¯ days, I don''t need a day off. Oh hey, we¡¯re here.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    They turned into the parking lot of a small, unassuming building. If it weren''t for the neon sign in the window reading, ¡®The Drunken Bastard,¡¯ he would''ve written it off as abandoned. They parked their bikes and disembarked.

    ¡°Nice place,¡± Derrek said as he removed his helmet and tossed it to Discord, which he promptly tucked into his coat.

    ¡°It''s got character, that''s what counts.¡±

    Derrek nodded and followed Discord through the door, a small bell ringing above their heads. They went down a long hallway along the length of the building, which Derrek noted cut off almost all natural light. Discord turned the corner and disappeared from view. When Derrek followed suit, he was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Typical,¡± he thought as a handful of people looked at him.

    There were four people at the bar, three patrons and a bartender. One of the patrons stood out from the rest, chiefly due to their size; even with their slouching posture under their gray hooded cloak, they were still a full head above everyone else. To the giants¡¯ left was a man dressed in a heavily decorated police captains¡¯ uniform, and to their right a man with a wide-brimmed stetson and a poncho, an empty holster at his hip. The bartender was the strangest of all, but only because it was clearly Discord wearing a fake mustache and a clip-on bowtie.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Derrek said as the group stared, ¡°Hi.¡±

    The cowboy grabbed the bottle in front of him by the neck and smashed it on the bar, turning it into a jagged weapon. He and the giant stood up, their stools squeaking on the tiled floor, and rushed at Derrek.

    ¡®God damn it.¡¯

    The cowboy was on him first, waving the broken bottle wildly as Derrek narrowly avoided the barrage of attacks. He went for a big thrust, and Derrek dodged to the side, grabbing the man''s wrist with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, stuck his leg out to trip him, and slammed the cowboy to the ground, flat on his face, his hat slowly coming to rest on his backside. The bottle was reduced to useless shards of glass in the struggle.

    Derrek let go of the man just in time for the giant to be upon him, moving quickly and deliberately. Their cloak opened to reveal an extremely muscular man stripped to the waist, his dark skin crisscrossed with scars, reaching out toward him. Derrek ducked under the huge pair of arms and tried to get around the hulk of a man, but the giant caught him with the swat of one massive hand, knocking the wind from Derrek''s lungs. He slid across the floor, upturning chairs and shattering a table to splinters as he came to a halt.

    ¡°Ouch,¡± Discord said to the officer as he refilled his drink, ¡°that one had to hurt.¡±

    ¡°Think James will mind the furniture?¡±

    ¡°Probably. You good, Havok?¡±

    Derrek let out a groan in the affirmative as he lurched to his feet. He stretched his neck then rubbed his sore ribs. The cowboy was back up as well, securing his hat atop his head as he fell in line with the giant, who was brooding under his plain gray cloak.

    Derrek took a fighting stance, ¡°Round two?¡±

    Once again, the cowboy rushed him while his cohort stayed behind, going for a tackle. Derrek waited until he was close, then dropped to a crouch, wrapped his arms around the man and threw him clean over his shoulder, using his momentum to fling him across the room. He crashed into a table, and Derrek focused back on the giant.

    For all his size, the man moved like lightning: Derrek hadn''t even heard his approach, but there he was, looming over him, less than a foot between them. He only just managed to duck as the giant swung, missing his head by a hair''s breadth. Before he could throw another punch, Derrek swung his leg into the back of the man''s massive knee, bringing him down to a kneel, giving him the chance he needed.

    He slammed his fist into the side of the man''s cloaked head, and it was like punching a brick wall. The giant hardly seemed to even feel it and managed to get his hand around Derrek''s throat, lifting him in the air as he rose back to his feet. A memory of being forced into the same position by Bernmore flashed in Derrek''s mind, and his body acted on it''s own. He swung his body and wrapped his limbs around the man''s arm, pushing inward on his elbow with his legs while prying his fingers away enough to keep breathing. With a sickening sound, the man''s arm bent backward at the elbow, and Derrek was free once again.

    He fell flat on his back, but sprung to his feet, still ready to fight. He could hear the cowboy behind him getting up, but his groans of pain were a good sign he wouldn¡¯t make too much more trouble. The giant barely looked bothered by his injury, despite the unnatural angle of his right arm, but Derrek knew the tables had been turned in his favor.

    ¡°What the hell is this?¡±

    All five men turned to a doorway at the end of the bar, where a stout, balding man holding a case of liquor stood.

    ¡°Sorry, Jimbo,¡± Discord said, wiggling his fake mustache, ¡°the fellas had to get that out of their systems. Fellas, you square?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± the cowboy wheezed out as he limped to the bar.

    The giant grunted, then grabbed the wrist of his injured arm, and pulled it straight with a cacophony of pops and cracks, much louder than when it was bent. He made not a sound throughout the process, and flexed the fingers on his now uninjured arm, as good as new. Without another word, he went back to his stool and slowly sat down, the metal creaking under his weight.

    ¡°Pull up a seat, Havok,¡± Discord said as he hopped over the bar and landed in the stool next to the officer, his mustache and bowtie nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, Derrek took the seat to Discord¡¯s left.

    ¡°I put up with a lot of your shit,¡± the man said as he went around the bar and set down the liquor, ¡°but wrecking my furniture? I can''t abide by that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah yeah,¡± Discord reached into his coat and produced a roll of twenty dollar bills, which he tossed to the man, ¡°you say that every time like I''m not your best customer.¡±

    The man grumbled under his breath, but pocketed the cash, went to the tap and started pouring two beers.

    ¡°This is Jimbo¡¯s place,¡± Discord said to Derrek, ¡°kept trading hands, but he¡¯s held onto it for, how long now, Jimbo?¡±

    ¡°First off,¡± Jimbo said as he placed a beer in front of both men, ¡°it''s James, and close to seventeen years now.¡±

    ¡°Seventeen years!¡± Discord tossed his beer back like a shot, then slammed the glass on the bar upside-down, ¡°Hell of a long time to do a thing if you ask me.¡±

    The officer, who had just finished what looked to be a glass of tomato juice, spoke up, ¡°Not everyone has your endless drive, Discord. Some of us have lives we''ve settled into.¡±

    ¡°Where are my manners?¡± Discord jumped up and extended his arm to the three patrons before him. ¡°Introductions are in order!¡± He gestured to the cowboy. ¡°Here we have the fastest gun in the west, none other than the avenging angel of Tombstone, Jericho Wilcox!¡±

    Jericho glared up at him from under his hat with piercing green eyes, then looked over to Derrek, ¡°Howdy. Sorry about trying to stab you and all.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine,¡± Derrek said, ¡°Sorry about throwing you into a table and all.¡±

    ¡°Seems we¡¯re square, then.¡± Jericho looked back ahead and sipped his beer.

    ¡°Next up,¡± Discord resumed, gesturing to the giant, ¡°The terror of the transgressors, the straightest edge of all, Justice mononym.¡±

    Justice, as expected, did not speak, but grunted a greeting and took a sip from his ice water. Derrek responded in kind with a nod.

    ¡°And finally,¡± Discord continued, pointing his arm to the policeman, ¡°We have-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll introduce myself,¡± the man firmly said, ¡°thank you.¡±

    Discord put his hands up and stepped aside smiling, ¡°Aye aye, captain.¡±

    The man cleared his throat. ¡°Hello. I''m captain Harvey Szyslak of the forty-sixth precinct. I''ve been with the NYPD for some twenty years after transferring from Chicago, following an incident stemming from my initial meeting with Discord. A sentiment I''m sure you can appreciate.¡±

    Discord seemed like he was about to protest, but instead nodded agreement.

    ¡°It''s a pleasure to meet you, captain. I appreciate you not attacking me.¡±

    Captain Szyslak chuckled. ¡°Self-control is essential in my line of work.¡±

    ¡°See?¡± Discord said, elbowing Derrek in his bruised ribs, ¡°They''re not so bad. They barely even tried to kill you.¡±

    ¡°I''m just glad everyone came unarmed like you said,¡± Derrek said, waving to the ravaged dining room, ¡°This could have gone horribly wrong.¡±

    ¡°Eh,¡± Jericho said, looking up from under his hat, ¡°Discord would¡¯ve stepped in if we had you in a tight spot anyhow.¡±

    ¡°It''s not him I was worried about,¡± Discord said, now back behind the bar. James glared at him, but sighed and went back to stocking. ¡°Now that we''re all introduced, it''s time we get down to business.¡± He reached under the bar, produced a large cardboard box, and placed it on the bar with a loud thump. ¡°Networking.¡±

    Derrek blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°You heard me, we''ve got to get you introduced to all the big players. You''re a new face in a weight class that''s had almost zero wiggle room in over a thousand years. Not to mention they¡¯ve explicitly been trying to avoid the whole Devourer situation until now.¡±

    ¡°And why wouldn¡¯t avoiding them in kind be better?¡±

    ¡°You avoid them, nothing is gained. You meet them, worst case scenario you¡¯ve got a shiny new nemesis. There¡¯s no downside!¡±

    Discord held his hands outward like a magician who just pulled off a difficult trick, a wide grin on his face. Captain Szyslak cleared his throat and then spoke, Discord still maintaining his pose.

    ¡°What he¡¯s trying to say is you will need allies. It¡¯s best to act swiftly and establish yourself as friendly before anyone decides you¡¯re an enemy. And if one decides you¡¯re an enemy, you¡¯ll need more people at your back. Your actions in Germany did not go unnoticed.¡±

    Derrek choked on his beer. ¡°What? How would anyone know I was involved?¡±

    ¡°Oh come on,¡± Jericho said, ¡°Bernmore storms the Schadenfreude and, according to eyewitnesses, gets killed by a ¡®Hauch Von Tod¡¯ the day before an up-and-coming white-haired twenty-something takes over a massive corporation? Even I made the connection, and I don¡¯t use the internet.¡±

    Derrek silently looked straight ahead and took a long, silent sip from his beer.

    ¡°Don''t worry,¡± Discord said, still holding his pose, ¡°it''ll work for you more than against you. Not much gods like more than a grand debut. Well, maybe a good flood, but we¡¯d need a bit more time for that.¡±

    Time? Derrek thought, looking up from his beer.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already got a schedule, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Discord smiled even wider and raised his arms in a touchdown gesture. ¡°Sharp as ever! Glad that desk hasn¡¯t dulled your senses!¡±

    Derrek sighed. ¡°Let me guess: we¡¯re going to hop around the world, making the rounds and stating my case for all the ¡®big players¡¯ you keep alluding to?¡±

    ¡°I like where your head''s at, but there¡¯s no need for something so labor-intensive.¡±

    Discord opened the box before him with a burst of confetti, revealing it to be filled to the brim with papers, folders, packets, and notebooks. In one fluid movement, he flipped the box over, slamming it upside-down on the bar, then slowly removed the box, leaving the stack of paper and paper products neatly stacked up, specked with the multicolored confetti. He placed his hand atop the stack, then slid them out like a dealer at a casino.

    ¡°We could spend upwards of two months straight meeting everyone individually. Even if we met each pantheon all together, there are still too many outliers to get it done in a timely fashion, and it would just tear me up inside if I inconvenienced your work life.¡±

    Discord picked a thick packet from the middle of the flushed-out stack and handed it to Derrek. He found it to be a long, comprehensive list of names in no order he could discern. He read a few at random.

    ¡°Hestia, Kvasir, Seth-¡±

    ¡°The H is silent on that last one.¡± Discord interrupted.

    He kept reading silently. Odin, Hera, Masamune, Zeus, Jupiter, and dozens of others just on the first page. He looked up at Discord.

    ¡°What is this?¡±

    Discord¡¯s grin grew a touch wider. ¡°It¡¯s a guest list.¡±

    ¡°To what? Godcon 2036?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t quite a laugh, but Derrek could have sworn he heard a quick exhale from under Justice¡¯s hood.

    ¡°Close,¡± Discord said as he screwed the top off a cheap bottle of tequila and stuck a long swirly straw inside. He took a long sip, the $15 a bottle booze flowing in loops, then continued. ¡°That¡¯s the guestlist for the biggest trans-pantheon party in two millennia. Barring Y2K, of course.¡±

    ¡°What happened on Y2K?¡± Jericho asked before Derrek could.

    ¡°What didn''t happen on Y2K?¡± Discord replied, his bottle now half-empty.

    ¡°A party?¡± Derrek asked, ¡°It would be a good way to cast a wide net, but how do we get invitations?¡±

    ¡°Invitations!¡± Discord said with a bark of laughter, elbowing at Captain Szyslak¡¯s arm, sloshing his second cup of tomato juice, ¡°Invitations, this guy says!¡± He erupted into peels of laughter and dropped his bottle. It bounced on the padded floor behind the bar, but he didn¡¯t seem to even notice, though James did give him a dirty look. All at once, the laughter stopped, and with a straight face, Discord resumed, ¡°We won¡¯t be needing invitations.¡±

    Derrek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°I take it you¡¯re throwing it?¡±

    ¡°Close.¡±

    All was silent for a moment, until Derrek finally asked, ¡°I¡¯m throwing it, then?¡±

    Derrek¡¯s eyes shot open as Discord shot a plastic confetti cannon into his face, throwing him completely off balance. He waved his arms wildly in the air, trying to regain his stability, but he and the stool came crashing down onto the worn hardwood floor. He winced from the pain, and when he opened his eyes, he saw none other than Discord looking down at him, a party horn hanging out of his mouth which extended with a sound that resonated in his ringing ears.

    ¡°You see?¡± Discord asked as Derrek dragged himself to his feet and righted his stool, ¡°I¡¯m not that hard to talk to if you just ask the right questions.¡±

    Derrek slumped into his seat and groaned. ¡°There''s no way out of this, is there?¡±

    ¡°Completely non-optional,¡± said Captain Szyslak, ¡°Invitations have already been sent off. We''ve even received two-thirds of the RSVPs.¡±

    Derrek pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Why is it that I''m the last one to know about the party I''m throwing?¡±

    ¡°¡®Cause you work best under pressure,¡± Discord said, once again behind the bar. He picked a folded-up square from the spread stack of papers and brushed the rest aside. He unfolded the paper several times, revealing it to be a set of blueprints for the first floor of a very large house. Something about the prints looked familiar to Derrek.

    ¡°Here we¡¯ll put the chocolate fountain and champagne tower,¡± he said, pointing to the foyer, ¡°There¡¯ll be a massive layout of shrimp and cocktail weenies here, gods love their shrimp,¡± pointing at a large living room, ¡°live music here,¡± pointing at the backyard where a large rectangle was drawn in orange crayon, ¡° we¡¯ll put speakers inside so everyone can enjoy. Smooth jazz ¡®til midnight, to be promptly replaced with a Nordic heavy metal/hip hop fusion until everyone dips out.¡± He pointed to what looked like a bathroom the size of a large garage, ¡°And here we¡¯ll-¡±

    Derrek put up his hand, cutting Discord off. ¡°This is all well and good, you''ve put a lot of thought into this, but what about the human factor? I''ve got a business to run, and unless Hermes is a corporate titan of medical technology, we''re going to need more influential guests. That is to say, in the human sense.¡±

    Discord arched an eyebrow then turned to Captain Szyslak, ¡°Sizzle, you mind taking this one?¡±

    The Captain nodded. ¡°In addition to the slew of assorted supernatural entities, the invitation list includes every person with influence comparable to your own in New York. The police commissioner, Mayor Graham, and several prominent mid-level politicians have already sent their RSVPs. We''ve also invited every CEO, CFO, COO, and CMO of every major New York-based corporation, the entire UN council, and the top twenty broadway stars. For good measure.¡±

    Derrek was silent for a moment, processing the information. ¡°That''s very¡­ comprehensive. Are you sure there won''t be any clashing of ideals? I¡¯d rather not have whatever venue you had in mind burn in holy fire.¡±

    ¡°Wrong kind of god,¡± Discord said, sipping from another bottle of tequila, ¡°most of them can''t smite anything bigger than a goat nowadays, entropy and whatnot. They¡¯ll blend in perfectly with these business buzzkills, holier-than-thou is second nature for this crowd. Just make sure you don''t mix up Zeus and Jupiter, they get super testy about it.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Derrek said, ¡°Zeus and Jupiter? Weren''t the Roman gods essentially copied from the Greeks after they were conquered?¡±

    ¡°God power is based heavily on worship, and when the Romans started worshiping the same set of gods all with different names there was some super wackadoo interference. There was a major split, dividing Greeks into the Romans and the Greeks, leaving the Greeks in relative obscurity while the Romans flourished. Then the Romans got their asses handed to them, the middle ages started, everyone diverted their worship to other deities, and now both pantheons keep mostly to themselves. Now quit setting me up for world-building, we''ve got work to do.¡±

    ¡°Do we?¡± Derrek said, gesturing to the papers and blueprints, ¡°What is there left to do?¡±

    Discord stared at him for several seconds, a blank expression on his face. ¡°There¡¯s the venue, for one.¡±

    Derrek blinked. ¡°Venue? You just went on a tirade about the floor plan. With blueprints.¡±

    ¡°Well yeah,¡± Discord said, tapping the prints before him, ¡°this is where we wanna throw it, but I¡¯m not exactly the decider on this one.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re excused.¡±

    Derrek was getting annoyed. He took a deep breath and tried to form the right question.

    ¡°What do we have to do to secure the venue?¡±

    ¡°All you have to do is ask.¡±

    Derrek''s gaze shot to the entrance, or rather, the end of the entrance hallway. There stood an older man, grey hair well-kempt, dressed in a blue three-piece suit. Derrek recognized him immediately, and a lightbulb went off in his head. He looked to the blueprints with a fresh perspective, then back to the man.

    ¡°Will,¡± he said to his adoptive father, ¡°can I throw a party at your house?¡±

    William Shale, CEO turned presidential candidate, smiled and said, ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you to ask me that since you were fourteen. Of course you can.¡±

    Discord clapped his hand together with the sound of booming thunder. ¡°Finally! I¡¯ve had the construction crew on hold since Tuesday. Do you have any idea how much it costs to build a stage rated for fifty tons? ¡®Cause it¡¯s a lot more than you think.¡±

    ¡°I did offer to cover the expenses,¡± Shale said as he took the seat next to Derrek Discord had left vacant.

    ¡°Chump change,¡± Discord said, dismissing Shale with a wave of his hand, ¡°A gold idol, a couple of semi-disarmed warheads, and a Rueben with extra kraut. Cash is king, but a good trade always works.¡± He swiveled his head to James. ¡°You gonna serve him or what?¡±

    James narrowed his eyes at Discord, then begrudgingly looked over to Shale, putting on a smile. ¡°What can I get you, sir?¡±

    ¡°Just a glass of water, thank you.¡± A request James promptly fulfilled. Shale took a sip and glanced over at Derrek, a certain glint in his eye. A look Derrek had seen many times before whenever he claimed victory over a challenge.

    ¡°This was your idea, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    Shale smiled. ¡°Only the party as a whole, the guest list and actual planning was all Discord. It seemed pertinent to keep my distance from such a thing.¡±

    ¡°Because of your campaign.¡±

    Shale waved his hand. ¡°Campaign feels like such a serious term, makes me feel like some kind of general. I prefer something more down to earth, effort maybe.¡±

    Derrek raised an eyebrow. ¡°¡®Presidential effort¡¯ doesn¡¯t have the same ring to it. Speaking of which, should you really be alone around these parts? Your detractors aren¡¯t the only ones who want you out of the race.¡±

    Shale nodded toward the entrance, ¡°My bodyguard is out front taking his smoke break. Part of his contract.¡±

    ¡°Bodyguard?¡± Derrek asked, confused. ¡°Just the one?¡±

    Shale¡¯s smile widened as a distant bell faintly chimed. ¡°The only one I need.¡±

    He, along with everyone else in the bar, looked to the entrance, listening to the heavy, slightly uneven footsteps heading toward them. When they finally reached the room proper, an imposing figure faced the crowd, his beard bushy and his head bald.

    ¡°Hey Derrek,¡± said Major Jeffrey Reynolds, ¡°how¡¯s it hanging?¡±

    Derrek shot up from his seat and crossed the room to him, hand raised for a handshake which turned into a manly embrace.

    ¡°Jeffrey,¡± He said once they released, ¡°it¡¯s been too long.¡±

    ¡°Only been three months,¡± Jeffrey said with a crooked smile.

    ¡°Feels like a decade. How¡¯ve you been?¡±

    ¡°Pretty good, went and saw Stonehenge.¡± The men went back to the bar, Jeffrey taking the chair to Derrek''s other side.

    ¡°Stonehenge?¡± Discord said, popping up from under the bar. Derrek wasn¡¯t sure what he was doing down there, but based on the look in James¡¯ eye, it couldn¡¯t have been good. ¡°I built that, y¡¯know.¡±

    ¡°Good to see you too, red.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Discord said, standing straight up, pointing an accusing finger at Jeffrey, ¡°Nicknames are my thing, Jeffy.¡±

    The two stared each other down, the sheer testosterone palpable. A tense moment passed, and the two erupted into laughter, clasping hands and slapping backs across the bar.

    ¡°You and I need to spar one day, I¡¯d love to kick your ass.¡± Discord said as he reached into his coat. He produced a bottle of Brewski brand beer, a fine layer of frost covering the green glass, and passed it to Jeffrey. ¡°Jimbo won''t stock it.¡±

    ¡°Because nobody drinks that piss!¡± James called from across the bar, met with hearty laughter by the men who filled the building.

    Jeffrey lined the ridge of his bottle¡¯s cap along the edge of the bar and slapped his hand down hard on the top. The cap flew into the air, and he caught it with one hand while, in one fluid motion, he started chugging his beer with the other. It was empty in seconds, and he slammed the bottle on the bar, gently placed the cap back on top, and gave it a firm slap, sealing the empty bottle.

    He let out a bellowing belch and handed the bottle back to Discord. ¡°Much obliged.¡±

    ¡°De nada, garoto barbudo.¡±

    ¡°Eh?¡±

    Shale chimed in. ¡°Portuguese.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    Discord clapped his hands, commanding the group¡¯s attention. ¡°Alrighty. Time for phase two.¡± He reached over to the pile of documents and picked up a tightly bound stack of envelopes, which he set squarely in front of Derrek. ¡°Invitations.¡±

    Derrek looked down at the stack, then back up at Discord, a confused look plastered on his face. ¡°Didn''t we just go through a whole bit with the guest list? I thought invitations were already distributed.¡±

    ¡°Long-range invites, yeah, but it''d be better if those schlubs who work for you closer to home received them personally.¡± He gestured to Shale. ¡°Billy knows what I''m talking about.¡±

    Derrek looked to Shale, who looked up with a smile. ¡°Barnes would hold a personal vendetta if anyone but you gave him the invite. More than he already does, of course.¡±

    Derrek nodded. ¡°His pride will be the death of me.¡± He didn''t bother adding that, had Derrek not been promoted, Barnes most certainly would have. They both knew it. Shale nodded, and they both looked back to Discord after yet another of his booming claps.

    ¡°Enough work talk, save it for Monday. Now is a time for celebration! Reunions!¡± He gestured to Shale and Jeffrey, ¡°New friendships!¡± to the trio of Warrior Spirits, ¡°Bar fights!¡± to the destroyed furniture.

    Jeffrey looked at Derrek and mouthed, ¡°Bar fights?¡± Derrek shook his head in a ¡°what can you do?¡± gesture. Both men looked forward again and found a shot glass in front of each of them, both filled with a clear liquid. Derrek looked and saw the other men with identical glasses. Discord grabbed the one in front of him and raised it high. Everyone followed suit.

    ¡°Salud!¡± he called, and everyone called in kind and threw back their shots, save for Justice, whose glass never seemed to have been full. The clear liquor burned Derrek''s throat, the taste of agave stinging his tongue. He slammed down his glass and found a neat wedge of lime next to where it landed. He looked around and saw the rest with slices of their own, biting down on their fractions of the citrus. Derrek did the same.

 A party for the ages

    ¡°I always wondered how they made those things,¡± Jeffrey said, gesturing to the champagne tower with his glass. It started the night at eight feet above the table and now stood at a stout five.

    Derrek gave him a sideways glance with a raised eyebrow. ¡°They stack the glasses in a diamond shape then pour the champagne on top, filling the glasses below. It isn''t that complicated.¡±

    Jeffrey looked back at him, brow furrowed with annoyance. ¡°Well yeah, but that thing was a foot short of a skyscraper, must''ve taken a dozen bottles to fill them all. Hard to believe there are still any bubbles left.¡±

    Derrek looked back to the tower quizzically, then to his own glass. ¡°You''ve got a point there. I didn''t see it get set up, but maybe they used some kind of vat? Maybe a barrel of champagne? Does champagne come in barrels?¡±

    ¡°Hell if I know.¡± Jeffrey threw back his champagne and was visibly uncomfortable, a result of the bubbles hitting his sinuses all at once. He closed his eyes and nonchalantly pinched the bridge of his nose, pretending to enjoy the jazz playing in the background, and after several seconds of Derrek watching with a thin smile, the fizz passed.

    ¡°Care for another, sir?¡± A waiter with a tray topped with several more glasses floated over to them. Jeffrey politely declined with a wave of his hand, and the waiter moved on to other guests.

    ¡°I don''t wanna hear it,¡± he said to Derrek''s continuing smirk.

    ¡°Can''t chug everything.¡±

    ¡°Shut it.¡±

    A beat passed then the two shared a laugh. The party was going well so far, despite its architect, Discord, being nowhere to be seen more than an hour and a half in. He glanced around at the crowd. In one corner of the cathedral-esque foyer were the Norse gods, dressed in black tie, loudly sharing pleasantries with local politicians. He caught sight of Jerricho chatting with a handsome man with flowing blonde hair and a stout man with a red beard. He seemed uncomfortable in his formal wear and kept tugging at his poorly-done tie, struggling for air.

    In another corner, Frostbyte executives mingled with several of the Greek gods, along with a few of the Egyptians. Seth in particular stood out, it seemed he was having a discussion with Dr. Rebecca Shepherd and Professor Lewis Philman. It had been months since Derrek had seen them, and he was glad they looked to be doing well. Although he remembered them constantly at each other¡¯s throats, he was fairly certain they came together.

    Good for them.

    And in the center of the room, the bulk of the Romans were engaged in what looked like a tense, but still lighthearted, series of debates with a mix of gods from each pantheon. He could see Captain Szyslak among them, discussing who knows what with a man whose hair and beard rippled like clouds, or maybe waves.

    His attention was suddenly drawn to the front doors as they swung open, revealing Discord in a suit the same shade of red as his coat with a black button-up, sans tie. He strutted in but ceased when he noticed nobody noticing him, save for Derrek and a waiter near the front. He passed the waiter, casually plucking a glass of champagne from his tray as he made his way toward Derrek.

    ¡°Not quite the reception you were expecting?¡± Derrek asked, welcoming Discord with a handshake.

    ¡°That''s the problem with parties,¡± he gestured to the crowd, ¡°throw them too hard, and nobody knows who comes or goes.¡±

    Jeffrey gave him a playful, but forceful, punch on the arm. ¡°Might spoil entrances, sure, but it makes exits a hell of a lot easier.¡±

    Discord grinned wide. ¡°Very astute, Jeffy, never want to be the last one out of a good party.¡± He looked over to Derrek. ¡°What¡¯re you doing over here, Havok? The gods are on the dance floor!¡±

    Derrek shook his head. ¡°I''ve been running around so much I''ve barely had time to see the dance floor. The band was late, so the music only started twenty minutes ago, we can''t keep enough shrimp on the tables, and don''t even get me started on the chocolate-¡±

    Discord put his hand up and cut him off with a series of tuts. ¡°Don''t worry about putting out fires. The whole point of the exercise was for you to get some much-needed networking, now quit hanging around the tower of fancy booze and make some connections! Excuse us, Jeffy.¡± He thrust his glass into Jeffrey''s hand and grabbed Derrek by the shoulders, steering him into the crowd toward the Greek corner of the room. They exchanged brief, if awkward, pleasantries with Philman and Shepherd, which Discord punctuated with a high-five with Seth.

    They continued toward a large man parked at the shrimp table, holding a plate piled high with empty shells. He had a full head of flowing white hair with a well-coiffed beard, dressed in an eggshell suit with an off-white tie. As he saw them approach, he set down his plate and broke away from the conversation he was having with one of the Frostbyte executives, Sherwood from accounting if Derrek was not mistaken, moving to meet them with a small smile under his beard.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he said in a deep, thunderous voice, ¡°You must be our gracious host. It''s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± He reached out and grabbed Derrek''s hand in an extraordinarily firm handshake as Discord finally let go of his shoulders.

    ¡°How¡¯s it hanging, Thunderhead?¡±

    The man''s smile grew a touch wider. ¡°Discord, I''m glad you''ve finally graced us with your presence.¡± He and Discord joined in a spartan handshake. ¡°It''s been much too long.¡±

    ¡°I couldn''t agree more.¡± Discord stepped to the side and turned to Derrek. ¡°Havok, this,¡± he gestured to the man, ¡°is Zeus, ruler of Olympus. And Zeus,¡± he turned to Zeus, ¡°this is Havok, ruler of Frostbyte.¡±

    ¡°It''s an honor,¡± Derrek said with a sideways glance to Discord, ¡°but feel free to call me Derrek.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense, Havok is a strong name! A warrior¡¯s name! If that is what Discord calls you then I shall follow suit, as is tradition.¡±

    Discord leaned over and whispered something into Zeus¡¯s ear, something Derrek wouldn¡¯t quite make out but left Zeus with a confused expression.

    ¡°You must be joking,¡± he said with a tone to match his face, ¡°that trend fizzled out?¡±

    ¡°Was a shock to me too.¡± Discord shrugged. ¡°Nom de guerres are still a thing, but the age of warriors is long past.¡±

    Zeus shook his head sadly. ¡°Shame. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be able to keep up with these human trends.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it Thunderhead, ain¡¯t all it¡¯s cracked up to be. All you really need is a¡­¡±

    Discord trailed off and stared into the crowd in the direction of the bulk of the Norse, a sour expression crawling across his face. He caught sight of a tall, gangly man with swept-back deep orange hair, adorned in a suit identical to his own.

    ¡°That son of a bitch stole my look.¡±

    He marched toward the man, leaving Derrek and Zeus behind. The two shared a shrug, followed by a laugh at the shared expression. Derrek had been worrying about this party since he learned of it a week prior, stressing over the prospect of making connections with people who had been nothing but stories and myths to him for such a long time. It relieved him that the tension could be broken by something as simple as a common friend.

    ¡°So I hear you''re the Devourer.¡±

    Derrek choked on his champagne, stifling a cough. ¡°Sorry, I just¡­¡± he trailed off and coughed again.

    ¡°...Wasn''t expecting to be asked so bluntly?¡± Zeus finished.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Derrek regained control of his lungs. ¡°Exactly that.¡±

    Zeus chuckled. ¡°There''s nothing to worry about. We, as gods, have stayed out of this conflict thus far and will continue to do so. It simply isn''t our place. If Discord doesn''t think of you as a threat, nobody here has any reason to either.¡±

    A wave of relief washed over Derrek. ¡°It''s an odd position to be in. Supposedly I''ve always been the Devourer, or played host to it at least, but it never came into the equation until a few months ago. I mean no disrespect, but even this conversation is surreal.¡±

    ¡°None taken,¡± Zeus eyed a nearby plate of shrimp and claimed it with ruthless efficiency, ¡°It''s rather surreal for me as well.¡±

    Derrek''s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Really? How so?¡±

    ¡°You may think of us as legends,¡± Zeus swallowed his mouthful of shrimp, ¡°but we think of Discord and the Devourer in much the same way. Throughout the ages, most of us have had to trifle with the consequences of one of your ancestors or another, and it has always been a thing outside of our control. The red coat has always been an omen of disaster for what it carries in its wake, and not even we gods can stand up to that carnage.¡± He cleaned out another shell and leaned in close, stage whispering the next part. ¡°We stay out of it for our own sake. The prospect of putting an end to your conflict is beyond appealing, to say the least.¡±

    It was as though a weight was lifted from Derrek''s shoulders. He had expected cold shoulders and open scorn, but never did he expect respect from a god, let alone Zeus, of all of them. ¡°I can only agree. Say, I hear your power company was in need of an investor for a new plant in Crete.¡±

    Zeus choked on one of his shrimp, clearing his throat and setting down the empty shell on his plate. ¡°You certainly do your research, how did you know I back Olympic power?¡± Derrek arched an eyebrow and looked at him meaningfully. ¡°Ah. not exactly subtle, is it?¡±

    ¡°Like a bonfire in a field. Any chance you could consider accepting an investment from Frostbyte? I''m very interested in expanding into clean energy, and your fusion plants are state-of-the-art.¡±

    Zeus smiled under his beard and down another shrimp. ¡°Very bold. I like that. I can''t accept outright, red tape and all, but I can guarantee you an affirmative response within the week.¡±

    Derrek reached for a handshake. ¡°Wonderful, I look forward to our partnership.¡±

    Zeus shook his hand with even more force than before, his shrimp sliding back and forth precariously on his plate. ¡°As do I, young Havok, a legendary partnership it shall be!¡± He released Derrek''s aching hand and eyed his shrimp. He offered up the plate to Derrek. ¡°Care for a shrimp? They''re utterly divine.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no thank you,¡± Derrek held up his hands, warding away the platter of crustaceans, ¡°I¡¯m allergic.¡± Zeus¡¯ smile faded and he retracted the plate quickly, the contents sliding about wildly, the empty shells and two of the shrimp falling to the floor without a sound in the hubbub of the crowd. ¡°Nothing serious,¡± Derrek added, ¡°it just wreaks havoc on my guts, and I¡¯d rather not spend the rest of my weekend on the toilet.¡±

    Zeus smiled again. ¡°Wreaks havoc, you say?¡±

    Derrek grew a grin of his own, ¡°I couldn''t resist.¡±

    The two shared another laugh. Derrek caught a glimpse across the room at the Norse, the red-clad man and Discord slapping backs and laughing like old friends. Discord broke off from the man with a parting handshake and started toward him and Zeus, though Derrek was certain the man had cufflinks before the exchange.

    ¡°Seems the winds of fate call to you.¡± Zeus said through another handful of shrimp, ¡°We must talk more later, it was a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Likewise. Enjoy the party, more shrimp should be out soon.¡± Derrek shook hands with the lightning god once more and walked to meet Discord, taking a sip of his champagne along the way. They met halfway between the Greeks and the Norse, near Jericho and the red-bearded man.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go with ol¡¯ Thunderhead?¡± Discord asked, affixing a pair of links to his cuffs with bright red stones.

    ¡°He caught me off guard, but it went well. Will everyone I meet immediately ask about the Devourer, or was that just a fluke?¡±

    Discord smirked. ¡°Nah, that would get old quick. It''ll probably just be jokes, pleasantries, and awesome stories from here on out. Now, you see that guy there?¡± He grabbed Derrek''s shoulder and pointed into the crowd at a man who radiated an aura of command. His light grey hair was bound in a braid that hung between his shoulders, his right eye covered with a simple black eyepatch. ¡°That''s the Allfather, king shit of Norse mountain, Odin Borson.¡±

    ¡°Father of Thor, head of the Norse pantheon, right?¡±

    Discord slapped him on the back. ¡°Glad you did your homework. Ask him about the eye, might seem insensitive, but it''s his favorite story to tell. Go get ¡®em, tiger.¡± and he slapped Derrek harder, pushing him on his way toward Odin.

    ¡°Reckon he¡¯ll be alright?¡± Jericho had broken off from his conversation partners and gave Discord a playful punch on the arm.

    ¡°He¡¯s taking to it. Guy¡¯s been around business bitches his whole life, gods aren''t all that different. Similar levels of entitlement and whatnot.¡± He plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray, threw it back like a shot, and placed the empty glass back on the tray before the waiter even noticed.

    Jericho grunted disapprovingly. ¡°Business. Boring as hell and more suffocating than this damn tie.¡± He hooked a finger around his green tie and tugged, threatening to undo it completely. Discord slapped his hand away. He quickly undid it himself, and in the blink of an eye had it re-tied, looser around the neck, but still firm. He patted Jericho on the chest.

    ¡°Couldn''t agree more, but this is how the world is now. Gotta roll with the punches.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jericho looked over the party, disgust flaring in his eyes. ¡°It''s just¡­ you know how I am with civilization. More than ten people in a room and I can''t fucking breathe.¡±

    Discord patted him gently on the shoulder. ¡°I know, bud. I promise, make it through tonight and you can go back to camping under the stars. I won''t bug you for at least a month, I swear.¡±

    Jericho glared at him suspiciously. ¡°Last time you tried to feed me that crap you dragged me to goddamn Peru a week later. Didn''t even get whatever the hell it was we went to get, and what did I get out of it? Enough mosquito bites to draw all the constellations with and the cheapest bottle of bourbon you could find!¡±

    ¡°Second cheapest, just the way you like it.¡±

    Jericho blew out his nose like an angry bull. ¡°You''re an asshole. I¡¯d kill you if I could.¡±

    ¡°Love you too, buddy.¡±

    Jericho tried to keep up his annoyed act, but couldn''t help a smirk creeping across his face. He punched Discord again, harder this time, but still playful. He glanced past a group of partiers, through a glass door at a woman with flowing, earthy green hair matching her dress leaning against the railing on the porch, about as far from the band as possible. Discord followed his gaze.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°She say anything?¡± Discord asked.

    ¡°Only that she hoped you wouldn''t show.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to disappoint, then. Where¡¯s the big man?¡±

    ¡°On the roof, couldn''t find a suit big enough to fit him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that tracks.¡± he looked over at Derrek. Odin was at the climax of his story, miming holding a knife and gouging out his own eye. The old man loved telling that story, almost as much as the one about the mead of poetry, though that might have been too strong of an introduction. ¡°Hold it down, and keep that tie on.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Discord patted him on the back again and made his way toward Derrek.

    ¡°... I gave my eye to uncle Mimir, and he cast it into the well. I was given the Gjallarhorn and allowed to drink from its waters. And thus, I became the wisest of the Aesir.¡±

    ¡°Until Kvasir came around, right?¡± Discord smugly said. Odin rounded on him, annoyance in his eye until he saw who spoke. As soon as he recognized him, he smiled.

    ¡°Kvasir is neither Aesir nor Vanir, so my words hold true. It''s good to see you, drengr.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d argue he¡¯s both Aesir and Vanir, y¡¯all made him out of your spit, after all.¡± The two clasped hands. ¡°It''s good to see you too, Havi.¡± He turned to Derrek. ¡°Hope this old crow isn''t boring you to death.¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± he said with a smile, ¡°I love a good story.¡±

    ¡°I should hope so, otherwise hanging around with me would suck shit. Whatcha reckon, Havi?¡± He slapped Derrek hard on the back. ¡°Did your ravens tell you right?¡±

    Odin cast an appraising eye over Derrek, the only kind of look he had seen from him so far. After a few tense seconds, he gave the barest of grins and nodded. ¡°If anything, they played it down. I expected someone who could go toe-to-toe with Bernmore and his braumis would be boastful, braggadocious, much like Thor. Even though they were but men, they were hunters, warriors even. It was no small feat, yet he is more interested in the exploits of others than the sharing of his own.¡± His grin grew into a full-blown smile. ¡°You will be one to watch, Snowe. Of that much, I am sure.¡±

    Derrek beamed. ¡°I appreciate that, Allfather. Though I''m not quite a student of history, I know enough to know what that means coming from you, and I am grateful for the compliment.¡±

    Discord barked with laughter and shook Derrek by the shoulders. ¡°I love this guy!¡± He continued to laugh and shake his friend until the music changed tempo. He ceased the laughter and shaking at once, listening intently to the intense ballroom music that was now playing. He glanced over to the center of the room and Derrek followed his gaze. People had begun to gather, moving their bodies largely without rhyme or reason, some moving gracefully as swans. It could only mean one thing.

    ¡°Hells yeah!¡± Discord said, ¡°Dance time!¡±

    He steered Derrek to the gathering, who was trying to protest, but to no avail. He was no dancer, he had never danced at all that he could remember and would have been perfectly content continuing chatting with others, even if he would have had to raise his voice over the music a bit, but Discord wouldn''t hear a word of it. When they reached the crowd, Derrek''s shoulders were freed, and he stumbled into the center of the crowd, surrounded by men and women, enjoying themselves immensely, all smiles.

    Goddamn it.

    He looked around, but Discord was nowhere to be seen. Nobody was anywhere to be seen, there were too many people in the way. He wanted to get out, to be free of the suffocating crowd, to be away from the crushing weight of flesh that surrounded him. He stood in the center of it all, turning, spinning, looking for an escape, but it was like a maze. The faces didn''t stay on the same bodies, he couldn''t keep up. He couldn''t breathe. He needed to get out. He needed-

    He felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder and spun around to find himself face to face with a woman, her emerald eyes putting him instantly at ease, her earthly green hair rolling like a hilly field, the same color as her dress. Suddenly, the music didn''t sound so loud, the crowd not so dense. He could breathe again. She had said something, but he wasn''t sure what.

    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± he said, ¡°what did you say?¡±

    ¡°I said,¡± she said with a voice like honey, ¡°may I have this dance?¡±

    She offered her hand out, and after a confused, nervous moment, he took it in his own. He could feel the warmth all the way up his arm, and he couldn''t help but smile. She pulled closer. The music changed to a slower song, and he saw other pairs gently swaying to the tune. He realized he had been standing there, holding her hand, looking around the room for several seconds, and followed her lead. She moved the hand she was holding to her shoulder and his other to her waist, mirroring the hand placement on him. They moved in tune, if not quite in sync, but he was getting the hang of it.

    ¡°Nervous?¡± the woman asked. He should really learn her name.

    ¡°A little, I haven''t danced in¡­¡± he thought for a moment. ¡°I''ve never danced before.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°A first time for everything. I''m Terra, by the way, Roman goddess of the earth. I''d offer my hand, but you''re already holding it. It''s a pleasure to meet you, Derrek Snowe.¡±

    ¡°I see you''ve done your research,¡± she nodded at that, ¡°and the same to you.¡±

    ¡°You throw quite the party.¡± She looked around her at the sanguine party-goers approvingly. ¡°I haven''t seen many of these faces in a very long time. It''s good to catch up on the past from time to time.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the compliment, but I can''t take all the credit. Truth be told, I didn''t even know about this party until last Friday. All I really did was hand out a few envelopes over the week and crack the whip in the kitchen to get more shrimp out, the rest was almost entirely Discord.¡±

    Her smile faltered at the name, just the slightest twinge at the corner of her mouth, but Derrek couldn''t miss it, not when he was but inches from her face. Less than a fraction of a second, and her small, radiant smile was back in full force.

    ¡°Very few are fully responsible for that which bears their name. It seems everyone is having fun, and in the end, that''s all that matters.¡±

    The two swayed to the music, staring into each other¡¯s eyes, living in the moment, enjoying the music. Without warning, the slow tune shifted to a more rapid flow of the same melody, and the fields of grass that were Terra¡¯s eyes flashed with a fire. With even less warning than the music had given, she changed the tempo of their dance to match and Derrek struggled to keep up. They twirled, moving through the crowd with a grace he hadn''t expected from himself. He was getting used to it, and his apprehensions washed away. They moved in perfect sync, connected through their unbroken gaze, flowing through the crowd as though it were nothing but a shower of petals. His heart raced in tune with the music which grew more rapid, more rabid, more frantic, more chaotic, more beautiful. As the song neared its peak, he took a great risk: he took the lead.

    They were two warriors caught on a battlefield, locked in intense combat, both knowing their next move could be their last and treating it as such. They were the rippling tides in an endless ocean, their movements interlocking perfectly. They were the shifting sands of the desert, never stagnant, never pausing, never slowing. In that moment, they were not two strangers. They moved as one, acted as one, struck as one. As the music swelled, so did his heart, and when he felt the final moment drawing near, they spun, her dress flowing through the air like leaves on the wind, surrounding him in a whirlwind, and he planted his foot firmly on the ground and dipped her low, holding her tight in his arms as the band played their final note, the whole world silent, save for their heavy breathing.

    They hadn''t broken eye contact through the whole affair, and it was a shock when the crowd around them erupted in applause. It was only then that Derrek realized almost the entire floor had been cleared, leaving a circle around them big enough to land a helicopter. He looked back to Terra, and she was smiling. He lifted her back to her feet and they stood side by side, hands clasped together, and bowed to rapturous applause.

    Across the room, away from attention, Discord took a swig from his flask. He was proud of Derrek, he had come such a long way from the broken corpse he met in that clearing months ago. He had overcome every challenge presented to him thus far, and just as he expected, this one was no different, even if Discord hadn¡¯t been the one to issue it.

    ¡°Maybe it''ll work out,¡± he muttered to himself, struggling to believe it. No one knew better than him how full of shit he was. He had been wrong so many times on so many chances, so many risks, and he knew all too well the consequences his actions held. He took another swig, looked up at the ceiling disapprovingly, and tucked the flask into his jacket. He slipped out through the side door onto the empty porch. He reached back into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, placing one in his mouth. He snapped his fingers, producing a flame at the tip of his thumb which he lit it with. He breathed deep, burning through half the tobacco with a single inhale, letting the smoke billow out like ghosts on the wind, disappearing as fast as they appeared.

    ¡°I thought I¡¯d find you here.¡±

    He turned to face the woman, but he already knew who it was. Her familiar deep brown eyes, her soft features showing hardly thirty years of her unknowable age. Her dark skin was as deep and rich as the most fertile soil, her hair as dense and vibrant as the rainforest. There could be no other.

    ¡°You know me well. Enjoying yourself, Gaia?¡±

    ¡°Immensely.¡±

    He offered her a cigarette and she looked at him quizzically.

    ¡°They''re unfiltered,¡± he said, shaking the box, ¡°picked the tobacco myself. Even used biodegradable wraps. I can''t stand a litterbug.¡±

    Gaia smiled and accepted, placing it between her lips as he offered up his thumb flame, which she used to light it. She breathed it in, and let it out, more ghosts on the wind. They stayed like that for an eternity, staring into the night, enjoying the chill air as the night tightened its hold around them.

    ¡°Do you think this will be enough?¡±

    ¡°Dunno, that''s why I have a whole pack.¡±

    ¡°I meant Snowe.¡±

    ¡°I know what I said.¡±

    She looked at him with those eyes of hers. A crushing weight to be under her gaze, the weight of the world, but he was cursed with a strong back.

    ¡°I have to try. You know I do.¡±

    ¡°I do. But I also know what he could do, what he could become.¡± she paused as Discord snuffed out the stub of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger, wasting no time in lighting another. ¡°I know you well enough to know you wouldn''t take this risk without a good reason. I''m simply having trouble finding one.¡±

    ¡°What, freedom isn''t good enough? Can''t a man want to live without care for its own sake?¡±

    Gaia gave a sharp, bitter laugh. ¡°Live without care? I''ve never pegged you as the whimsical type, but if you thought this would make for smooth waters I may have to change my opinion on you.¡±

    Discord sighed. ¡°Everything must come to an end, that''s just the way of things. No matter how many times I kill it, it keeps coming back. My eternal enemy. My one true companion. My only friend. Only seems right to give it an honest try, to treat it as such. Havok didn''t ask for this, and neither did I.¡± He took another long drag and let it out slow. ¡°I am tired, Earth Mother. Don''t question the burrow in which I rest.¡±

    She did not reply but stared at him for a long time. She took one last drag of her own, grinding what remained into the railing. ¡°I always enjoy our talks. It''s refreshing to speak without pretense.¡± She walked to the door, and with her hand on the handle said, ¡°Talk with me again sometime, maybe it can last longer than a smoke break.¡± And she was gone, reabsorbed into the revelry.

    He watched that door for another eternity, hoping it would stay shut and praying she would come back all at once. He looked back out into the night, took a final drag on his cigarette, snuffed it out, flicked the remnants into the darkness, and went to the door. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, and his trademark smirk reappeared on his face, confidence and good humor radiating.

    ¡°Let''s turn this bitch sideways.¡±

    He slunk into the room like a fox through a bush, and it was as though he never left. Derrek and Terra were stationed in a couple of armchairs, talking softly over glasses of champagne. Discord wished there was more variety to the drink menu, but he himself had insisted on the colossal tower. He would have to settle for the several dozen flasks he had stashed away.

    He weaved through the crowd, slapping backs and shaking hands as he passed, old friends and older enemies alike all smiling in his presence. It was only when he got to Shale that he stopped to chat, breaking him away from the conversation he was having with Mayor Graham with a firm, but strictly suggesting, hand on the shoulder.

    He greeted Discord with a smile, as it seemed everyone always did, and turned back to the mayor. ¡°Pardon me, we¡¯ll have to pick this up later in the evening.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely!¡± The mayor said in a weary, gravel-filled voice, his wrinkled jowls jiggling heavily. He looked over to Discord. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Mr. Cartwell. Hope the horses are healthy.¡±

    ¡°They sure are,¡± Discord said with a heavy Texan accent, ¡°Mighty kind of you to keep my business! Now, if you¡¯d ¡®scues us, I¡¯d like a few words with ol¡¯ Billy here.¡±

    Graham nodded and meandered on, drifting about toward Szyslak, who was still locked in debate. Shale turned to him, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

    ¡°I own two-thirds of the horses in New York, pretty much all of the ones for the mounted cops and a handful of the carriages. Hard work, but mostly pays for itself with that deal. Don¡¯t even have to house them for the most part, gotta love leases.¡±

    Shale nodded. ¡°So you¡¯re Daniel Cartwell.¡± he snapped his fingers. ¡°¡®D C,¡¯ I should¡¯ve known.¡±

    ¡°Damn right,¡± Discord said, unscrewing a flask, ¡°it was more on the nose than a blackhead.¡± He took a slug, then handed it toward Shale, who discretely took it, glancing around for prying eyes. He took a sip, grimacing at the intense burn.

    ¡°What the hell is that? Drain cleaner?¡± he said, pushing the flask back into Discord¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Close. Two parts Wild Turkey 101, one part Everclear with a spritz of lemon.¡± He took another slug. ¡°I call it a ¡®Bad Thanksgiving.¡¯ Can you guess why?¡±

    ¡°Because of the Wild Turkey?¡±

    Discord stared at him for several seconds with a blank expression on his face, blinking at irregular intervals. ¡°That¡¯s a much better reason,¡± he finally said, ¡°I call it that because it¡¯s ruined every Thanksgiving I¡¯ve been invited to, but damn that¡¯s a much better reason.¡±

    Shale cracked a smile while Discord stroked his chin, deep in thought. ¡°Glad to be of service.¡± He looked out into the party, taking in the revelry, god and human alike getting along like equals. ¡°This isn¡¯t quite what I had in mind for a party, but I can¡¯t deny you did one hell of a job.¡±

    ¡°Well duh,¡± Discord said, releasing his chin, ¡°I don¡¯t half-ass anything. My crowd doesn¡¯t take well to stuffy dinner parties, almost all of them asked if there was gonna be a dance floor.¡±

    ¡°Fair point, fair point.¡±

    They stood in silence for a moment, watching the partygoers, enjoying the music. It was Shale who broke the relative silence.

    ¡°I see you didn¡¯t invite Stephan.¡±

    ¡°That I did not.¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t be happy about that.¡±

    ¡°Fuck him then.¡±

    Shale smiled. ¡°Agreed. Is everything else in order?¡±

    Discord glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. ¡°Why, whatever could you mean?¡± He asked, words dripping with sarcasm. Shale gave him a warm-hearted glare, his brow raised in response. Discord grinned and looked back into the crowd. ¡°You do realize the election isn¡¯t for several more months, right? Might be a bit early to make enemies.¡±

    Shale scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve been making enemies all my life, another dozen or two won¡¯t make a difference.¡±

    ¡°True that.¡± Discord produced a plain envelope from his jacket and discretely passed it to Shale, who quickly tucked it into his own. ¡°Pen and paper, the modern-day sword and shield. That right there is all you¡¯ll need, just make sure you burn it afterwards.¡±

    Shale nodded solemnly. ¡°I don¡¯t like doing this, you know.¡±

    ¡°I know. But you gotta do what you gotta do, right? How else are you gonna make it as an independent?¡± He drank from his flask. ¡°Get those names on your side and you¡¯ll be fine. All means to an end.¡±

    ¡°But what if the means outweigh the ends?¡±

    ¡°They usually do, but promises made will be less than nothing once you sit in the biggest chair.¡±

    ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Shale looked out at Derrek, still enthralled in conversation with Terra. ¡°Just don¡¯t tell Derrek about this, alright?¡±

    Discord¡¯s grin grew wider. ¡°Come on, Billy, I don¡¯t tell him shit.¡±

    ¡°So what are you, exactly?¡±

    Derrek was taken off guard and expressed it by choking on one of the tiny sandwiches the waiters were passing around. This was quite a divergence from the conversation they were having about Frostbyte¡¯s plans for wildlife preservations, she had some ideas of potential sites, and who would know better than an earth goddess? He cleared his throat and brushed away the crumbs that had fallen on his suit jacket.

    ¡°I¡­¡± he ventured, still struggling with the crumbs in his esophagus. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure if we¡¯re being honest.¡±

    Terra smiled. ¡°I insist upon it.¡±

    ¡°I don''t exactly know the right term, but I''m not human anymore, that much I''m sure of. The term ¡®Hauch Von Tod¡¯ was thrown around a lot during my time in Germany, but I¡¯m still not sure what it means.¡±

    ¡°¡®Breath of death,¡¯ if I''m not mistaken.¡±

    Derrek blinked. ¡°Really? I would''ve thought it meant ¡®touch of death,¡¯ in reference to¡­¡± he gestured to his stark white hair.

    Terra nodded, her hair waving like a windblown field of grass. ¡°Could be a translation issue, or maybe ¡®Ber¨¹hrung des Todes¡¯ just doesn''t roll off the tongue quite as well.¡±

    ¡°I really need to learn German, almost all I know is how to order food.¡±

    ¡°You might have to learn more languages than that if you''re going to keep hanging around with,¡± she grimaced, ¡°Discord.¡±

    ¡°Some bad blood between you?¡±

    Terra closed her eyes and took a breath. ¡°Some. But tonight is about you, not him.¡±

    Derrek sighed. ¡°Tell me about it. Or don''t, actually. I feel like everything that''s been said tonight has either been about me as a person or me as a concept. I''m not sure which one makes me less comfortable. It''s like being a painting or a fancy couch; just to be talked about, rather than to.¡±

    ¡°Correct me if I''m wrong,¡± Terra said with a sly smile, ¡°but wasn''t that the entire point of the evening? To get all the pertinent powers together in one place for them specifically to talk to and about you?¡±

    Derrek couldn''t deny it, that was, to the letter, the plan for the evening. ¡°You have a point,¡± he said after a thoughtful pause, ¡°I didn''t realize the invitations were so informative.¡±

    Terra shrugged. ¡°They were personalized. Different sized egos require different levels of¡­¡± she waved her hand around as if she could pluck the word she was looking for from the air.

    ¡°Tact?¡± Derrek offered.

    ¡°Bullshit was closer to what I was aiming for.¡±

    Derrek chuckled. ¡°What''s the difference?¡±

    Terra¡¯s smirk grew into a smile. ¡°I think I have my answer, I know exactly what you are.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Derrek said with a mixture of both feigned and genuine surprise. ¡°And what am I, exactly?¡±

    Terra¡¯s smile grew even wider. She leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch they sat on, gently swirling what was left of her champagne in the tall glass. ¡°You should know, you''re the expert on you, after all.¡±

    Derrek let out air through his nose and took a sip from his glass. ¡°Gods and their facetiousness,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Former-humans and their social commentary.¡±

    They looked at each other for what felt like forever, and Derrek grew a smile of his own. All of a sudden, it didn''t feel like such a bad idea to throw a party after all.

 A little good-natured violence.

    The music roared, heavy guitars and rapid vocals pairing in chaotic harmony. It was well past midnight by now, and the majority of the human guests had taken their leave some hours before, with the notable exception of almost all of the Broadway actors and playwrights, whatever the distinction between them was. The scene had changed entirely. The champagne tower was replaced with barrels of wine, mead, and beer respectively, scattered about with tables of mugs nearby. Despite the reduced number of guests, the dance floor was more packed than ever, an ocean of movement in a vast variety of styles. The air felt thicker, full of life, and the lighting had been turned down dramatically.

    The only thing that hadn''t changed, to Derrek¡¯s great surprise, was the shrimp table. He knew they should have run out a long time ago, yet the decapods were stacked higher than ever. It was likely, he thought, that some god or another had something to do with it. He didn''t mind too much though, he¡¯d had several more drinks since the change from champagne, and the room had a glow to it even through the lowered lights.

    The crowd had broken into several activities. Half of the parlor was dedicated to a high-stakes chess match between Jupiter of the Romans and a man in a Kimono, the crowd jumping and yelling bets as if it were a cockfight. The other half was occupied by a hodgepodge of gods and other miscellaneous entities, engaged in some kind of slam-poetry tournament. ¡®Flyting,¡¯ he heard someone call it.

    It was the ruckus in the backyard, however, that drew the largest crowd, Derrek included. The band had cleared off the stage, setting up in a secondary spot on the porch, and the edges were crammed with people, or gods rather, shouting bets, waving a rainbow of cash in every color and denomination Derrek had ever heard of and several he hadn¡¯t. Barely audible above the cheering and jeering, the rattle of coins on a hard surface clinged sharply in his ears, likely some hard money, ancient and valuable without a doubt. Despite the solid wall of flesh, or whatever gods were made of, Derrek knew exactly what they were celebrating.

    Violence.

    They were sparring, two at a time, hand to hand, a winner only declared once the referee decided it so, sat high on his raised chair like a lifeguard, except the only pools that would form would be of blood. And of course, who else would be filling the role but Discord, lording over the gods like¡­ well, a god. Derrek got the feeling the drink had taken a toll on his wits.

    As far as he could tell, the current matchup was Freya of the Norse, or Vanir if one would rather be specific, and Thor of the Aesir, or Norse if one would rather generalize. From his research, he knew them both to be formidable fighters, famous for their feats of cunning and strength, respectively of course. Thor had the weight advantage, the man was sturdy as a mountain, but he had hardly landed a blow on Freya. She was slippery as an eel, anticipating his moves and acting one step ahead, save for an unfortunate knee caught in her ribs earlier in the match. She was moving slower, but twice as cautious, wearing him down, bit by bit, a river grinding a valley into a canyon.

    Thor had made a fatal mistake, he had gotten greedy with his strikes and left his side open. She gave him a knee in kind square in his liver and dropped him to a kneel. He took three rapid punches in the same spot before he fell any further, and Discord blew his outrageously loud whistle just before Freya landed her fourth. Thor curled into the fetal position while she lifted one arm in triumph, clutching her doubtless broken ribs with the other, the crowd shouting their delight and disgust all at once.

    ¡°Haha!¡± Discord called to the spectators, so loud it was as if he had a bullhorn, ¡°Just goes to show, size ain¡¯t everything! Freya wins!¡± He waved over two people adorned in medical tools and stereotypical doctors¡¯ outfits. One he recognized as Apollo of the Greeks, the other was a woman, possibly from the Egyptian pantheon. He took a mental note to familiarize himself with that branch of mythology.

    Was mythology even the right word anymore? Derrek pondered the thought. After all, can something undeniably exist and still be counted as myth? He wasn¡¯t sure how he ended up mixed in the crowd watching these fights, he barely remembered leaving the house, but he didn¡¯t mind it too much. Thor had been removed by then, the gods of medicine struggling under his considerable weight as they carried him off, while Freya hobbled offstage to seek her own medical attention.

    ¡°All right all right!¡± Discord called to the roaring crowd, which Derrek barely heard over his internal musings, ¡°We¡¯ve seen some of the matchups middle school nerds have debated over for decades: Thor vs. Freya, Athena vs. Bastet, even Zeus vs. Odin, though we can all agree that ruling was anything but final.¡± He gestured to Zeus and the allfather, Zeus with his arm in a sling and Odin with his one eye blackened, laughing and sipping from their mugs. ¡°But I think we all can agree, this isn¡¯t what we came to see.¡±

    The crowd went suddenly silent, and Derrek was ripped from his existential thoughts to find all eyes on him, Discord¡¯s finger pointing at him like a general giving the order to charge.

    ¡°I, for one, would love to see our gracious host show his grit. Surely I can¡¯t be alone, can I?¡±

    His question was met with rapturous applause, and before he could even tell, Derrek was shoved through the crowd into the heart of the circle. He stumbled and only just managed to keep his footing.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen!¡± Discord intoned in his pompous announcer¡¯s voice, ¡°Before you stands one straight out of myth, even among present company! The Devourer himself, or its most recent host leastways. The one who crushed Boyd, the rogue reaper, who stood shoulder to shoulder with yours truly at the siege of the Schadenfreude, who bested the infamous Reginald Bernmore in single combat, the young wonder of Frostbyte incorporated, Derrek ¡®Havok¡¯ Snowe!¡±

    The crowd cheered and rushed to place their bets, even before he knew his opponent. He should have seen it coming. Of course he wouldn¡¯t be getting out of the party without some blood drawn, not with Discord involved. He should have known by now, that man and peaceful nights did not mix.

    ¡°Who among you will try?¡± Discord called, taking a slow look across the audience. ¡°Which of you gods among other gods has the cojones to step forth?¡± He reached out with his arms as if for a hug and waited for a reply, but all that was offered was a series of deities avoiding his gaze and a few barely heard coughs. ¡°Nobody? None willing to face this ancient evil residing in the body of a gen-z playboy?¡±

    As Derrek looked around him, he noticed none meeting his eye. He expected word to have gotten out about his exploits, but he didn''t realize until now what they meant. From what he understood, the Devourer had existed for longer than any of the gods present, and the thought occurred that there was a good reason they avoided that conflict. It scared him to think of the potential he held within, enough to strike fear even into deities. He felt a twinge of pride at that thought.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take a crack at it.¡±

    All eyes drew to one side of the circle, the crowd parting to reveal Jeffrey. He had abandoned his suit jacket and had his sleeves rolled past the elbow, the muscles in his forearms knotted like tree roots. His stride was uneven as he sauntered to his place in the circle. Derrek guessed he was drunk.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Haha!¡± Discord cackled out. ¡°A whole host of gods, goddesses, and miscellanea, and the only one up to the task is a human! Couldn¡¯t be more of a clich¨¦ if I¡¯d set it up myself!¡± He set his eyes on Jeffrey. ¡°You wanna pump up the crowd, or shall I?¡±

    Jeffrey turned his squinting, unfocused eyes to the onlookers. Each god and goddess looked back at him, each with their own degree of excitement, but all of them eager. ¡°They look pumped up enough to me,¡± he called up to Discord, slurring his words, ¡°don¡¯t see the need.¡±

    Discord¡¯s plastered smirk grew a touch wider. ¡°Fair enough. Say your words, take your marks, then each of you beat the shit out of the other.¡±

    The crowd backed away, and Derrek, who hadn''t moved an inch since he was forced into position, found himself square at his mark, Jeffrey facing him down from the other side of the circle.

    ¡°What the fuck, Jeffrey.¡±

    Jeffrey kneeled to roll up his pant leg, revealing his Frostbyte designed prosthetic. ¡°Seemed like a good opportunity.¡±

    ¡°To do what? Kick my head off?¡±

    The divine crowd gave a collective chuckle, and Jeffrey smiled under his bushy beard. ¡°To make sure you haven''t gone soft, but we can have it your way if you want.¡±

    Without another word, Jeffrey sprung forward, winding up for a roundhouse to, as Derrek was coming to regret suggesting, take his head off. He only just managed to jerk back and avoid the strike, and it felt like a semi had just passed him by for how strong the wind was. Derrek fell back, barely managing to land on all fours like a reverse crab, and did not doubt his shoulders would hurt like hell in the morning. He clumsily rolled and stumbled to his feet, expecting another kick at any time, but luckily Jeffrey was faring little better, tottering around with his back to Derrek, thrown off balance after missing that full-forced kick.

    Derrek squared up, not planning to be caught off guard again, watching as Jeffrey wobbled back and forth, quickly steadying, like a tree bent in the wind taking back its natural shape. He worked his neck and turned around to face Derrek, his drunken smile still clear under his beard. He lowered his stance, his shoes hissing against the wooden stage as they slid into place.

    Derrek snatched the initiative and shot forward, feinting left, avoiding Jeffrey¡¯s arms as he switched right. He hooked his leg behind Jeffrey¡¯s, moving to push him off balance with a punch to the gut, but he was not to be moved, and Derrek was pretty sure more damage was done to his hand than anything else. He tried to follow his momentum and move past behind him, but Jeffrey managed to catch him by the jacket, and threw him across the circle like a rag doll, gently rubbing his abdomen where Derrek hit him. Derrek felt a sharp crack on the back of his head, his vision filling with blinding light as he tumbled across the floor.

    Derrek tried to get up, but the world was spinning, the cheering of the crowd muffled to a senseless drone. He managed to rise to his hands and knees, staring at the wood floorboards, a thick strand of drool spilling from his mouth. He felt strong hands grab him by the collar and was violently pulled upwards, but he was given enough time to get a solid footing, so that was nice. Before he could even thank the kind soul who helped him up, he was slapped in the face, his head snapping with it while he was still held up by one hand. Rude.

    He was slapped again, backhanded this time, and the blobs of color started to grow outlines, the sounds separating to their own sources, their own voices. By the third slap, he had a firm grasp on what was happening, and he managed to catch Jeffrey¡¯s wrist before the fourth, broke the grip around his shirt, and scampered back, staring him down. He spat out blood and worked his jaw. Another sore spot for the morning. The horde of gods cheered their support and their disgust, enthralled by the spectacle.

    ¡°Send him to Helheim!¡± said a deep-voiced woman to his left.

    ¡°Use his mortality against him!¡± a gravel-filled voice from behind him.

    ¡°Slap him again!¡± Discord, from up on his perch.

    The two circled the arena, drifting closer, step by step, Derrek''s hands raised to fight, Jeffrey¡¯s hanging limp at his side, stumbling slightly, but Derrek wasn¡¯t fooled. He could tell Jeffrey had been holding back, even though his face was on fire.

    ¡°You awake yet?¡± Jeffrey asked, now close enough for Derrek to hear over the crowd.

    ¡°Hard not to be with all this noise.¡±

    Jeffrey cracked a crooked grin at that. ¡°I¡¯m gonna kick your teeth in.¡±

    Derrek jerked his head back as the metal leg rushed past his nose for the second time that night, and it was just as close to ruining his face as the first. He snapped back forward and closed the distance, planting a quick punch to Jeffrey¡¯s side before he could put his leg back on the ground. He grunted with the pain, and Derrek punched him twice more before Jeffrey¡¯s muscular arms reached for him, moving to lock him in a crushing bear hug.

    Derrek dropped before he could get the chance, scrambled around him, and kicked him hard in the back of the leg, bringing him to one knee. He jumped up, and wrapped his arm around Jeffrey¡¯s neck, locking it in place with the other, only just managing to wrap around Jeffrey''s thick neck. Jeffrey clutched at him, scratching Derrek¡¯s forearms, elbowing wildly, but his grip was steel tight, and Jeffrey¡¯s strength was fading fast.

    He lessened the pressure but didn¡¯t let go. ¡°Had enough?¡± he hissed, his teeth clenched with effort.

    ¡°Get¡­ fucked¡­¡± Jeffrey struggled to wheeze out, ¡°Snowy¡­ shit¡­¡±

    ¡°Have it your way, then.¡±

    Derrek squeezed tighter and held, watching carefully as Jeffrey struggled less and less, his punches becoming slaps, then thumps, then gentle taps, then he was dead weight. He released his grip, and Jeffrey fell like an oak, the boards of the stage shaking under his weight, sprawled out, gently snoring. Derrek thought it was for the best if he slept a while.

    A still moment passed, no sound save for Jeffrey¡¯s snoring and Derrek''s breath. Discord stood on his podium and sprung down, landing by Derrek''s side without so much as a sound.

    ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen!¡± He bellowed, grabbing Derrek''s wrist and raising it high, ¡°The winner is Havok!¡±

    The crowd erupted with cheers, even those who lost money on the fight didn¡¯t seem to mind. Among the mindless shouts, he heard a steadily rising chant, feet stomping and arms thrusting into the air in time with their calls. They were calling his name! ¡°Havok! Havok!¡± they went, and Derrek couldn¡¯t deny he liked the sound of it.

    ¡°Nice going,¡± Discord whispered in his ear, ¡°still sharp as ever, even drunk off your ass.¡±

    Derrek glared at him, ¡°I¡¯m feeling pretty sober now. What¡¯d you do to get Jeffrey in on this?¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Discord¡¯s face was the image of injured innocence. ¡°What do you take me for, some kind of schemer?¡± Derrek raised a white brow, and Discord cracked a smile. ¡°All I did was pour his drinks and point out the circle, a soft hand works best.¡± He glanced across the crowd, ¡°Speaking of which¡­¡±

    Derrek followed suit and caught a glimpse of Terra, shoving her way through the throng, not rudely, but by no means nicely. She finally broke through, stumbled slightly, effortlessly righted herself, and trotted over to him, slipping her arms around his, pressing herself against him. He noticed Discord was nowhere to be seen, but his attention was elsewhere.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± she said, her lips inches from his ear, ¡°That was an excellent performance. I especially liked when he slapped you.¡±

    Derrek blushed and tried to play it off with a laugh. Unsuccessfully, but he thought it was worth a try. ¡°Can¡¯t say that was my favorite part, but I¡¯m glad you enjoyed it.¡±

    A grin curled across her lips and she turned his face toward hers with a hand on his cheek. Soft hands she had, but undeniably firm. ¡°Maybe your favorite part is just yet to come.¡± Before Derrek could express his confusion at that, she kissed him. Much like her hands, her lips were soft and undeniable. The crowd cheered louder than ever, and Derrek closed his eyes and kissed her back, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

    The adoration of the masses, the thrill of victory, Terra¡¯s warmth against him, Derrek could get used to this.

 Discords downtime

    ¡°He learns quick.¡± Szyslak was leaning against the balcony railing overlooking the backyard, a perfect view of the stage as Discord took a spot beside him. ¡°Very adaptable. Doesn¡¯t fall for the same trick twice.¡±

    ¡°You should see him with a blade.¡± Discord tugged up his pant leg and grabbed the flask tucked into his sock. ¡°Reminds me of a younger me.¡±

    ¡°Is that a good thing?¡±

    Discord barked out a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s a good question. One to which only time will give the answer.¡± He drank from his flask. ¡°He can take a beating, though. Should¡¯ve seen him after Bernmore.¡± He let out a long, high whistle.

    The crowd was dispersing, the godly guests flocking to what remained of the food and drink like vultures to a corpse. Discord caught sight of Terra leading Derrek inside by the hand. He was punch-drunk, as well as just plain drunk, but he was still on his feet, a wide grin plastered on his face. It suited him, it was a shame the reaper''s touch didn¡¯t let it show more often.

    A strip of cloth draped over Discord¡¯s head, blocking his left eye. He grabbed it and found it to be an undone green tie.

    ¡°It¡¯s past two and I¡¯m done with that fucking tie,¡± Jericho said, rubbing his freshly liberated neck with relish.

    ¡°Your necks'' job may be done,¡± Szyslak said with a sidelong glare, ¡°but you¡¯re still on the clock until all the guests leave. All of them.¡±

    Jericho waved his words away and took his place next to Discord on the railing, ¡°They¡¯ll clear out once the barrels run dry. Twenty minutes tops.¡±

    ¡°In that case,¡± Discord said, shoving the tie into his jacket pocket, ¡°I¡¯m gonna dip on out. Never wanna be the last one at a party-¡±

    Szyslak rolled his eyes, ¡°Or you might get stuck with cleanup duty,¡± he finished.

    Discord snapped his fingers. ¡°Bingo.¡± He tossed his flask to Jericho, who only just caught it by the cap, and turned to walk away. He immediately bumped into an enormous mountain of muscle. ¡°What¡¯s up, big guy?¡± he asked, looking up at Justice.

    Justice stared down at him through his hooded eyes with the same lack of emotion he always had, his blind eye giving away no more than his good one. He grunted and nodded in the general direction of the stage.

    ¡°Everyone consented to fight,¡± Discord said with a friendly grin, ¡°I made sure to do it by the book.¡±

    The giant''s eyes narrowed and he turned to look at Discord sidelong. Discord threw up his hands.

    ¡°Fine, maybe Havok didn¡¯t get much of a say, but he still never said no. Nobody made him fight.¡±

    Justice stared at him for a while longer, then let out a long breath through his nose and walked around Discord, taking position between Jericho and Szyslak, though not leaning against the railing. Jericho playfully punched him on the arm and Szyslak nodded toward him. Discord smiled at the display of brotherhood, but it never reached his eyes. Not that they ever did, not anymore.

    He turned away and made for the balcony door. He turned the knob, and the temperature rose forty degrees. The glass door he closed behind him became the slapdash wooden door of his shack in Madagascar. It was one of his favorites, top ten at least, since nobody ever bothered him this far into the jungle. As if they could with all the wards he put on the surrounding woods. Anyone who got too close would feel as if they were in a Blair Witch movie until they ran away, or went catatonic in a few cases.

    It wasn¡¯t a big shack, but it did the job well enough. Time had taught low standards, and a simple place to sit and store his shit was enough for Discord. He slumped down in his recliner, the one luxury he allotted himself in this tropical piece of paradise, and pulled his tie away. His attire instantly transformed back into his signature red coat and patchwork clothes, the veneer of class shattered. He tucked the tie back into his coat, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, taking in the swampy humidity and the rotting foliage.

    Hardly a minute had passed before a series of sharp knocks on the door tore him away from his relaxation. He stared at the shack door, pondering the countless wards and repellants he had carved into the surrounding trees, the sigils he had painted on the walls, the spirits he had bribed into protecting the place. Then the knocks came again.

    He drew his revolver and made his way to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw a figure facing away from the door, a comically large backpack blocking sight from anything above their pale, knobbly knees. He pushed the door open, leaning against the doorframe, pointing his gun at the visitor.

    The visitor spun around, revealing a middle-height man in stereotypical safari wear, khaki shorts, and a button-down shirt, a wide grin plastered on his round face. Despite the bog-like humidity, he still wore a wool beanie, the fringe ending just above his brow. He ignored the gun and reached his hand out toward Discord for a handshake.

    ¡°Hello!¡± he said with a toothy grin and an enthusiastic British accent, ¡°Are you Kahli?¡±

    Discord cocked his gun¡¯s hammer. The man patiently waited for a further reply, his smile not so much as slipping all the while. He eventually pulled back his hand and scratched at the back of his beanie-clad head.

    ¡°I completely understand,¡± he said, slinging the bulging pack off his shoulders. He undid the buckles and began rooting around inside. ¡°I suppose if I chose to build an abode this far from prying eyes I¡¯d be more than a little miffed at someone slinking their way up to my door myself. Small wonder you haven¡¯t shot me yet!¡±

    He yelped out a sharp bark of laughter. If Discord hadn¡¯t seen it happen, he would¡¯ve thought it came from some bird. A cuckoo, or a toucan maybe. He was a strange one, speaking with his hands as much as his words. He seemed harmless, but there was no denying the defenses he had to have wormed through. And there was something in his eyes, something missing, something¡­ extra. Discord did not lower his weapon.

    ¡°Though personally,¡± the visitor continued, tossing random items aside as he dug deeper into his pack, ¡°I¡¯ve always been drawn closer to civilization. Smack dab in the heart of life, that¡¯s my way of it! Amid the hustle and bustle, the dreary gloom that hovers over the slums, the sinking pressure of too many in a place for too few, that is where I thrive! Yes indeed!¡±

    ¡°You talk a lot,¡± said Discord. The visitor smiled a tooth wider.

    ¡°And you,¡± said the visitor, pointing a wagging finger at him, ¡°are rather careful with your words. I expect you¡¯d sooner leave a silence than fill it with meaningless drivel. I¡¯ve always been the other way around, can¡¯t stand a dip in conversation. ¡®The gift of gab,¡¯ my father called it. If my lips aren¡¯t flapping then my hands take up the slack. I consider myself a craftsman by trade, but my trade can be rather difficult to define if truth be told. Ah! Here we are!¡±

    The visitor had nearly emptied his pack, the varied assortment of survival gear, food stores, books, and random scraps of metals strewn about the ground. He reached deep into the exhausted pack and struggled as if he held a great weight. When the item was finally free Discord saw it was a wooden box. Not a large box, but not a small one either. Bigger than a cigar box, roughly large enough to fit his revolver, in fact.

    He hobbled over to Discord and dropped to one knee, presenting the box as if to a king, his noodle-like arms trembling under the weight. Discord raised an eyebrow and let the man wait for a moment.

    ¡°Go on, then, open it!¡± he wheezed through clenched teeth, ¡°I never show up uninvited without at least a good gift!¡±

    Discord shrugged and uncocked his revolver, tucking it into his coat. If he was unsatisfied with whatever this stranger had for him he could always kill him afterward. He undid the simple brass latch and peered inside. His eyes went wide as dinner plates.

    It was an absolute work of beauty. The well-polished barrel, the smooth dark wooden handle, the cylinder engraved with tiny markings he had not seen in a very long time. In short, it was the most beautiful revolver he had ever seen. The very frame of the weapon gave off a kind of aura, an unmovable sturdiness.

    He picked it up gingerly and he could see the visitor relax with the weight out of his hands. It must have weighed eighty pounds at the very least, and it wasn¡¯t even loaded. The grip felt natural, almost as if it were made with the dimensions of his hand in mind. It felt right. Like a solid steel extension of himself.

    When he finally peeled his eyes away from the work of art he held, he saw the visitor was holding something else out toward him. A single bullet held out like a caught insect. Discord grabbed it and tossed it up and down to get a feel for the weight. It looked like a standard .44 round, but it weighed much more than it should have. With that thought finished and no others in his mind, he loaded the gun and aimed at the nearest tree.

    The sound was beyond deafening, shattering his right eardrum completely and doing what would have been thirty years of tinnitus before complete deafness in his left, which was to say nothing of his broken hand and fractured wrist. A cylinder a yard in diameter was completely absent as far as a quarter-mile back where he was aiming. The trees fell and left a scar in the jungle, completely breaking most of the wards he had on the place. Discord didn¡¯t care in the least.

    He put the barrel to his nose, taking in the euphoric scent of the freshly shot barrel. It was a smell he knew well. He remembered the first time it graced his nostrils. That pointless assault, his slaughtered comrades, but such a wonderful sound when they were blown to bits. A hell of a day, but nothing compared to this.

    ¡°I may still need to make a few adjustments to the mix,¡± said the visitor, ¡°less bang more umph, eh? Not much of a weapon that cripples the user!¡±

    Discord''s ears were only just reforming, and he was transfixed by the marvel of technology he held. When he finally peeled his eyes away from the weapon, he saw the visitor smiling wide, twitching up and down like an eager puppy.

    ¡°Would you like to come inside?¡± Discord asked, his face plain as a slab of stone.

    ¡°I would be delighted!¡± The visitor grabbed his nearly-empty pack by the straps and Discord stepped aside to let him through, tucking the weighty revolver into his coat. He stood in the middle of the room, taking in the several shelves packed full of assorted artifacts, weapons, and valuable-looking items. The sound of Discord closing the door snapped him out of it.

    ¡°Can I offer you a drink?¡± Discord asked, reaching for a bottle of wine sitting on the windowsill. ¡°Got this bottle as a gift from Napoleon, his way of bragging about his victory at Austerlitz. Classy bastard.¡± He produced a knife and deftly wedged the cork out, sending it flying. He plucked it from the air with the tip of the knife and brought it to his nose, breathing in deep.

    His nose crinkled in confusion. He sniffed again. It didn¡¯t smell right, more pungent than aromatic, more sour than sweet. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and took a deep swallow.

    ¡°Yep,¡± he shoved the cork back into the bottle and set it back in its place on the shelf, ¡°it¡¯s turned. On the bright side though, that¡¯s the best-aged vinegar I¡¯ve ever tasted.¡± He quickly shoved several boxes and trinkets aside in the space opposite his recliner. Once a livable space was made, he grabbed a lightly-rusted metal folding chair from behind a pile of junk, folded it out with a sharp clang, and slumped into his recliner, leaving the footrest down. ¡°Have a seat.¡±

    The visitor complied with a smile. He tossed his bag next to the chair and dropped into the creaking seat, staring ahead at Discord.

    ¡°You have a lovely home.¡± He wriggled in his seat for a more comfortable position, which Discord knew did not exist. ¡°So far removed yet so full of intrigue! I¡¯ve truly never seen anything like it.¡±

    Discord glanced at the barest of the four walls around them, catching a ray of sunlight through a gap in the ancient boards. The whole structure seemed close to collapse, that was the point after all.

    ¡°It does the job.¡± He said, turning back to the visitor, ¡°I¡¯ve got these all over, at least one per country, which makes me wonder just how the hell you managed to track me here.¡± The man was about to speak, but Discord got in first. ¡°I know everyone, I take it as a point of pride, and I don¡¯t know a single person who could do such a thing, let alone do so willingly. Who are you?¡±

    The visitor''s brows shot up, his eyes wide. ¡°Wherever are my manners?¡± He reached his hand out once more for a handshake. ¡°I am Dr. Miguel Estamos, infamous inventor, hated historian, shady surgeon, and avid alliterator. It is an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Ironfist!¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Discord looked at the hand, then back up at Miguel, one of his brows arched. ¡®Sir Ironfist¡¯ was a name he had not heard in a long time. A very long time.

    ¡°I go by Discord these days.¡± he once again ignored the offered hand. ¡°How¡¯d you find me? Interpol database? A corkboard and a shelf of yarn? The Titanic manifests? I didn''t sink that boat if you were wondering.¡±

    If it was possible, Miguel¡¯s smile grew even wider by a touch. ¡°Those all came in their time, and of course, you didn''t! Incompetence and cut corners were the true culprits! I have heard tell of a more ¡®mystical¡¯ cause, however, through a certain cursed mummy kept in the cargo hold at the time, but that is a conversation for another day.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    Miguel reached into his pack and pulled out an ancient-looking book, held closed with an old leather strap with brass studs. ¡°I first heard of you through the first-hand account of an old friend of yours, Ponce De Leon¡¯s personal journal.¡±

    Discord scoffed and snapped his fingers in annoyance, ¡°Goddamn Leon. Should¡¯ve known. How¡¯d you get your hands on that? Last I heard it was locked up tight in the Yale archives.¡±

    Miguel chuckled. ¡°I did say, ¡®hated historian,¡¯ did I not? Fair to say, I am no longer welcome on the majority of the Ivy campuses, save for Cornell, they¡¯ll let anyone in.¡± He undid the strap and began leafing through the pages, his eyes darting across the words at lightning speed until he reached a page three quarters in. ¡°Ah, here we are!¡± He cleared his throat.

    ¡°¡®I swore I would not return to dry land until I had discovered the fount of youth, but my thirst for adventure has run dry. I shall have word of my retirement sent to the royal family tomorrow, as well as word of my failure. But for today, I will ride the wind in whatever direction it takes me as soon as I can rid myself of Kahli. I am eternally grateful he left me my life, and I pray to never see that bastard again.¡±

    Miguel snapped the journal shut with a snap. ¡°The rest is a mix of high and low-quality recipes for a dish that would be called Gumbo nowadays.¡±

    Discord¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°And that''s what led you to me? I feel like I missed a few pages here.¡±

    Miguel thumped the aged book with a knuckle, producing a small cloud of dust. ¡°To be honest, it was more of a missing link between two of my pet projects: finding the fountain of youth, and finding you. I could bore you by explaining the web of yarn from the aforementioned conspiracy board, or the wing of my library dedicated to maps with a considerable amount of notes written in the margins, or the books full of ancient symbols only a handful of beings understand I left at your front door, but I think we both know that would be a waste of your time. The point is that I found seven of your shacks through my studies. Three were outside of my travel budget, two were at the bottom of large bodies of water, and one was in Jacksonville, Florida.¡±

    ¡°You got a problem with Florida?¡±

    Miguel scoffed. ¡°Are you serious? There are meth heads and literal dinosaurs there, and you''re more likely to be eaten alive by the meth heads! Florida is, quite literally, where bad things go to happen!¡±

    ¡°I know! Isn''t it great?¡± Discord had a faraway look in his eyes, ¡°Only place in the world where you''re never more than two miles away from an ATV dealership, a jet ski rental place, or an all-you-can-eat shrimp bar.¡±

    Miguel coughed and snapped him out of his caridean fantasy. ¡°Anyway, the shack here in Madagascar was the most accessible of the lot. Plenty of edible vegetation to give me as much time as I needed to crack your wards. After that, it was a simple matter of waiting for the light to turn on.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Discord said, relaxing a bit. He hadn''t been to this shack in months, and if Miguel could find that many locations, it was plausible he could have made it through in that time. It made him wonder how many stalkers had found his other shacks and were lying in wait, or how many had eventually given up for that matter. ¡°That all tracks. So what do you want?¡±

    Miguel blinked, ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°I''m keeping the gun, you might as well name your price.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Oh! Right!¡± he opened the book again and flipped through the pages. ¡°Based on Leon¡¯s writings, his crew, yourself included, found the fountain of youth, yet you were the only one to drink from it.¡±

    ¡°What can I say? I was thirsty.¡±

    ¡°He describes you taking two full volleys of musket fire. He uses the words ¡®amorphous lump¡¯ to describe what was temporarily your corpse before it began to grow and reform into your usual shape, and ¡®an atrocity unto god¡¯ to describe what was left of the men who fired upon you.¡±

    From what Discord remembered, that was accurate. He nodded Miguel along.

    ¡°I¡¯ll cut to the chase,¡± Miguel said with a surprisingly serious expression, even with his continuous grin. ¡°I believe that, with a sample of your blood, I could synthesize a chemical that would be able to recreate the effects of the waters from the fountain, creating a substance capable of halting the aging process completely!¡±

    Discord scratched his chin. ¡°You do understand that I¡¯m not a normal human, right? If you put my blood into someone else it could really fuck them up.¡±

    By some marvel of facial musculature, Miguel¡¯s grin grew even wider. ¡°Exactly as I would expect! I assure you, by the end of the synthysation process, there will not be a strand of your DNA left in the final result. Ideally, it will be a pill, but I have been considering a nasal spray! I have all the preparations in order, all that is left is, well, you!¡±

    Discord rested his chin on his hand and crossed his legs, considering the proposition. It occurred to him that a certain ex-mortal enemy of his had recently come into possession of a multinational conglomerate that was created with the express purpose of one day creating what this beanie-clad safarist had on offer. It also occurred to him that they had been having little success, and it might be handy to have something like this in his back pocket.

    ¡°I have one condition.¡±

    ¡°Name it!¡± Miguel said with visible enthusiasm.

    ¡°When you have a final product, come to me before any other.¡± Discord produced an empty notecard and a pen from his coat and began writing. ¡°I have contacts that would be very interested in this.¡±

    ¡°Derrek Snowe, do you mean?¡±

    Discord stopped writing. He stared at Miguel silently. Miguel grinned wider.

    ¡°I know about you, it stands to reason I would know of some of your acquaintances. You were there when Snowe was introduced to the world stage, off to the side.¡±

    ¡°And you saw me as your way to get to him.¡± It was not a question.

    ¡°I admit, I have my own motives. I¡¯ve been able to do amazing things with the little I¡¯ve had to work with, a line of storage lockers and relatives'' garages and whatever was lying around, but if I had access to the whole of Frostbyte¡¯s resources,¡± his wide eyes sparkled with eagerness, ¡°the possibilities are endless!¡±

    That feeling of something missing tugged at Discord. There was an emptiness behind Miguel¡¯s eyes. Or rather, there was an infinite space, an endless void. A limitless pool of potential energy. The gun is too heavy, he thought, How could it be that heavy?

    ¡°You cheeky fucker.¡± Discord said through gritted teeth. ¡°Y¡¯know, I¡¯ve killed people for getting my sandwich order wrong. What do you think I¡¯ll do to a presumptuous little shitsnack trying to use my blood as leverage?¡±

    Miguel¡¯s grin finally slipped to Discord¡¯s great satisfaction. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend,¡± he said, waving his hands madly, ¡°My sincerest apologies! I don¡¯t mean to presume, by all means you have your right to refuse, but I thought you¡¯d¡¯ve seen the possibilities!¡±

    ¡°Even your apologies are pretentious.¡±

    Miguel was silent for a moment, then broke out in a grin, somehow wider than before. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that before. I freely admit I have difficulties in presenting myself in a relatable manner, and I take every exchange as an opportunity to better my social skills. But my eccentricities aside, you must see the potential! Not only within me, but within yourself!¡±

    Discord shook his head and let out a long sigh. ¡°You¡¯re fucking crazy.¡± He lurched to his feet and stretched his arms before he began rolling up his sleeves, the notecard fluttering to the floor, hardly noticed. ¡°But you¡¯re lucky I always bet on crazy. How much do you need?¡±

    Miguel blinked. ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Blood,¡± Discord said, tugging at his bound sleeves to make sure they were secure, ¡°how much?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Miguel stammered, ¡°well I suppose, in all honesty, I only require-¡±

    Discord produced a knife from his coat and plunged it into his left forearm, just below the elbow, the point sticking out from the other side. With a sickening sound of slicing meat and scraping bone, he dragged the knife until it met his wrist and yanked the blade out without so much as blinking. Blood poured from the wound onto the floor and he casually plucked an empty paint can from the nearest pile of junk, positioning it under the crimson torrent.

    ¡°-a few drops,¡± Miguel finished lamely, his brows raised in shock.

    Discord frowned, the flow of blood already slowing to a trickle. ¡°Wish you said something sooner. Hell of a mess I made.¡± The wound had closed completely, and he gave it a shake to get the last few drops left on his forearm as if he were trying to get the last few drops from a gas nozzle. From the same pile the can had come from, he grabbed a matching lid, placed it gingerly around its rim, and gave it a firm hit with an open palm, sealing it tight. It sloshed quietly as he picked it up and held it out to Miguel. ¡°Should be plenty, at any rate.¡±

    Miguel¡¯s smile snapped back across his face and he warmly accepted the can. ¡°Better too much than not enough, and I¡¯m sure I can find a worthwhile use for the excess. You won¡¯t regret this decision!¡±

    Discord unrolled his sleeves and slumped back into his chair. ¡°I already do.¡± He leaned over the side of the chair and retrieved the notecard. He held it out toward Miguel between his index and middle finger. ¡°When you have results, call me first.¡±

    Miguel accepted the card with his free hand, ¡°You have my word.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Discord pointed to the door, ¡°now get the fuck off my property.¡± Miguel stood frozen for a moment, then stood and attempted to retrieve his backpack. Discord stopped him with a snap of his fingers. ¡°I¡¯ll mail you your shit, just go back the way you came.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Miguel¡¯s smile slipped a fraction, to Discord''s satisfaction, ¡°I see. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Ironfi-¡±

    ¡°Discord.¡±

    Miguel winced, ¡°Discord. I apologize. Have a nice day!¡± He scampered out the door, blood bucket in hand. Discord watched through the cracks in the wall as he scurried across the clearing, maneuvering through the path of carnage the revolver had left until he was lost in the foliage.

    He drew the gun from his coat, admiring the craftsmanship. Miguel disturbed him in more ways than one, but his work spoke for itself. He had known people like Estamos in the past; Da Vinci¡¯s tank was leagues ahead of its time, despite popular belief. The prototype would¡¯ve leveled Florence if Discord hadn¡¯t stolen it. He still had it in a garage somewhere. Nikolai Tesla had been a close friend for a few years, and Discord had borne witness to the oscillator, he was in the building it shook. Permanent structural damage after thirty seconds of operation. It was a relief, and somewhat a shame, that Tesla abandoned the project. The death ray was a definite shame, though.

    Neither could compare to this simple, yet infinitely complicated pistol. Those before had learned the rules that governed them and tested them to their limits, but they never actually broke any of them. This was beyond natural, beyond supernatural if it came to that. It was as if Estamos had taken twenty guns and shoved them all together into one super-gun. It was wrong. It was beautiful. It needed a name.

    ¡°The Handcannon.¡±

    He smiled. It was perfect. He tucked the Handcannon back into his coat and pulled the lever on the side of his chair, extending the footrest. He laced his fingers together behind his head, leaned back and closed his eyes once more. Less than three breaths later, a phone rang in his coat. Without opening his eyes, he fished around for the right phone. Once he found it, he answered.

    ¡°You¡¯ve reached Discord, what the fuck do you want?¡±

    ¡°Hey hey, Discordio!¡± a cheerful, scratchy voice with a Cuban accent chirped through the speaker, ¡°Finally got the right number! It¡¯s Steban, quine mas hermano?¡±

    Discord held the phone away from his mouth and quietly groaned. ¡°Hola, Steban. Que the fuck do you want?¡±

    Steban barked with laughter, like a Doberman that had smoked for thirty years. Why did nobody who bothered him have a normal laugh? ¡°Bueno! Muy Bueno hermano! Listen, amigo, I followed up on those wackos, Los hijos de Ragnarok.¡±

    Discord opened his eyes. ¡°Hot damn. What turned up?¡±

    ¡°The survivors are gone, la enferma went for a smoke break, and they were vamoosed when she got back. No sign of either of them since. I¡¯ve been working los Santeros, they''re good with fringe shit, you know?¡±

    ¡°You got that right, they¡¯ve got augury down to an art.¡±

    ¡°Si! I made three grand on a race thanks to Enrico! Kinda sad about la cabra though. Anyway, there¡¯s a bunch of doomsday groups across the country, all with different ideas. Meteors, volcanos, one guy was even convinced he was Elvis reincarnated, dunno how he turned that into an alien invasion though. But about two weeks ago, they all change their minds.¡±

    ¡°One date passes and they pick another, how is this anything special?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing,¡± Steban paused for annoying dramatic effect, ¡°it¡¯s the same mind.¡±

    Discord blinked. ¡°Come again?¡±

    ¡°They changed their mind the same, same mind.¡±

    Discord nodded. ¡°Ah. I¡¯m with you.¡±

    ¡°Si, they all started doing the same shit los hijos were into. Mutilation, sacrifices, weird shit, hermano. I swear, one of those putas had all his skin gone except his face. I don¡¯t think he made it to the weekly meeting, if you¡¯re smelling what I¡¯m stepping in amigo.¡± Steban barked with laughter again.

    Discord let air out through his nose. That might¡¯ve been the funniest thing Steban had ever said. ¡°Did they settle on a date? Sounds like there might be something to this.¡±

    ¡°Not that I could tell. They talk about the end time, but nobody seems to know when it will be. Sounds like they¡¯re playing it by ear.¡±

    ¡°Those are the worst ones. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s it. Whatcha think, want me in deep cover? I can fit in with the loonies like a cuckoo in a nest hermano!¡±

    Discord thought for a moment. There was a very good chace Steban would be found out and summarily executed, which was a plus, but he was more useful alive. ¡°No, just keep watching from the outside, no need to tie you up for weeks. And keep a close watch on other groups'' doomsdays, if they start syncing up we¡¯ll have a real problem.¡±

    ¡°Aye aye capit¨¢n! I¡¯ll let you know if anything especially fucked up happens.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re paid on time.¡±

    Discord could hear the smile spring onto Steban¡¯s face. ¡°Muy bueno, Discordio, muy bueno de hecho.¡± There was a click and the call disconnected.

    ¡°That was rude.¡± He closed the phone, tucked it back into his coat, and closed his eyes once more, wasting no time to consider the implications of the call. He didn¡¯t even get halfway through his first breath when a different cell phone in his coat began to beep. He grumpily opened his eyes, snatched the phone from his coat, and read the alarm.

    ¡°Be in Queens, meet with PM JJ in 5.¡±

    ¡°Fuck.¡± He had forgotten about his meeting with prime minister Jacob Jones. It was their weekly brunch. He dejectedly ended the alarm, closed the phone, and put it back in his coat. With a prolonged groan, he lurched up from his recliner, forlorn at the knowledge that he would not rest again any time soon.

    He meandered to the door, stretched his neck first one way, then the other. He shook his head and faced straight ahead with a look of determination. He could rest later, there was business to attend to.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± And he stepped through the door.

 Saturdays are for the boys.

    Derrek''s head throbbed. In the months since his power had awoken he hadn¡¯t even slept in, regardless of how much he drank, but now his head throbbed. The pain spread out from the spot where he cracked his head on the floor the night before, spreading through him like a spider web made of pain, his bruised side shouting with pain. It was worse than any hangover he¡¯d had as a mortal, and it made him nostalgic for a time when he could die with relative ease. His stomach churned like lava, constantly teasing his windpipe. His only comfort was the lavish bed he found himself in.

    He managed to pry his eyes open, only to wince away at the few sun rays peeking through the blinds. He blinked repeatedly until he could stand to keep them barely open. Progress, he thought. Moving would be a beast of a different breed, but he decided he had all day to work up to it.

    Derrek felt the sheets shift beside him. If he had any energy, he would have jumped in surprise as a mass of green turned to face him. He blinked a few more times. Deep brown eyes stared into his, as clear and aware as he was dim and dull.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± Terra purred, ¡°how do you feel?¡±

    Derrek managed a weak smile, despite the pain it caused him. ¡°Like a watermelon at a Gallagher show.¡±

    Terra¡¯s brows rose and she smiled back at him. ¡°I believe someone spiked the ale with ambrosia, it can leave one in a very sorry state once it wears off, especially those who aren¡¯t gods. How on earth do you know that reference?¡±

    Derrek chucked. ¡°My adoptive father has a soft spot for physical comedy. I never understood the appeal myself, but I did end up getting dragged by him to a Gallagher tribute show, Gallagher 3.¡±

    Terra laughed. It was a wonderful sound, ringing in Derrek''s ears in such a pleasant way he forgot his pain for a moment. He laughed with her, and within seconds he remembered the pain and clenched his eyes shut. The burning in his stomach was rising, and he knew what was coming. He opened his eyes again, casting about desperately for a place to store his bile, but the room was a blur, he couldn¡¯t focus.

    Terra continued to laugh, and pointed to a door-shaped blob on the wall opposite to his side of the bed. He sprung from the luxurious sheets and stumbled toward what he hoped was a door as fast as he could. He struggled with the knob, covering his mouth with the other hand, and finally burst into what he could only assume was a bathroom, what with the toilet that greeted him as he dropped to his knees and spewed the godly concoction, or what was left of it leastways.

    As he filled the bowl with the contents of his stomach, he was struck by the memory of the last time he vomited, at the Schadenfreude hotel. He had spent that night nursing an excellent bottle of whiskey, sharing the last half with a French pianist whose name he could not summon at the moment. Compared to what he felt now, it may as well have been a stubbed toe.

    When his retching finally subsided, he sat on the cold tile and realized he was stark naked. He considered finding something to wear. Instead, he laid on his back, splayed spread eagle on the bathroom floor, the cold tile soothing his burning skin. He didn¡¯t know how long he stayed there, gently groaning, but when he opened his eyes, he saw Terra smirking down at him from the doorway, wearing a robe loosely in a way that would have been quite enticing if his head didn¡¯t feel ready to burst. He managed to crack a thin smile back at her, the taste of vomit bitter on his tongue.

    ¡°Give us a kiss, will you?¡± He said, meekly puckering his lips, kissing the air with a pitiful sound. She gave that enchanting laugh again, and Derrek felt that roiling in his stomach again. He scrambled to his knees as quick as he could, and resumed filling the toilet. There wasn¡¯t much left at that point, little more than a kind of sour drool, but his body wouldn¡¯t stop dry-heaving.

    He felt something soft and warm draped over him. He struggled to resist the demands of his guts and straightened, and felt a pleasant pressure on his back as arms wrapped around his chest.

    ¡°I kept it warm for you,¡± Terra whispered in his ear, ¡°Make sure you flush twice when you¡¯re finished, Ambrosia tends to stain.¡± She kissed him on the cheek, which was thankfully unsullied by vomit, and soundlessly rose. Derrek managed to turn to see her go, and realized she gave him her robe. Even in his current state, he was still a little enticed at the way her hips swayed as she sauntered out of the bathroom.

    When his upset stomach, and the rest of him for that matter, finally subsided, he decided his first rest upon the tile was so pleasant that he laid down for another trist. He was prepared to stay there, sprawled on the bathroom floor for the entire day until he smelled it. The unmistakable aroma of sizzling bacon.

    He wasn¡¯t sure how long it took him to work himself to his feet, but it was at least a thousand years. When he finally did, he clutched the robe around himself, treasuring the remnants of Terra¡¯s warmth, catching a whiff of her deep earthy, floral scent, which fortified him enough to venture beyond the bedroom. He stumbled through the familiar yet foreign labyrinth of a floor plan Shale called a house. He wondered where the old man had ended up in last night''s ruckus.

    An answer was soon forthcoming. When he maneuvered himself downstairs and to the kitchen, he found none other than Shale at the dining table, laughing along with Terra, who had found another robe. Derrek found it hard to concentrate on anything other than the plate of bacon and eggs placed at an empty seat. He assumed it was for him, and decided to dig in before anyone else claimed it. Before he realized he was even eating, he had turned the smiley face into a confused cyclops, and did not notice when his dining companions stopped their conversation to look at him.

    ¡°He lives!¡± Shale said, raising a glass of orange juice in what felt like a mocking toast. It may have been genuine, but Derrek was far too concerned with his breakfast.

    ¡°Long morning,¡± he heard Terra half-whisper to Shale as he finished the final eye of his bacon-and-eggs-smiley-face, and was dejected to find himself face to face with an empty plate. He looked up with what he hoped was a convincing puppy-eyes routine.

    ¡°There¡¯s plenty more,¡± Will said as he rose from his seat. He scooped up Derrek''s plate and went to the stove, piling more bacon and eggs onto his plate. He brought it back to Derrek, and the plate was promptly cleaned by his insatiable hunger.

    Definitely not insatiable. Derrek knew that now. He could not begin to put words to the satisfaction the feast had brought him. He was beginning to remember why life was worth living, and that maybe continued existence wasn¡¯t such a curse. When he finally looked up, it was to a pair of grinning faces.

    ¡°Did I do something funny?¡± He asked, only partly as a joke. They both laughed. Derrek didn¡¯t quite get the joke. Will stopped laughing first.

    ¡°I was just telling the story of that Galligar 3 show we saw,¡± he said, ¡°I was about to bring out the piece of rind I kept in a jar of formaldehyde.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± Derrek raised his hand as he stared back down at his plate, silently willing the crumbs to form another piece of bacon. ¡°I think I¡¯ve been humiliated enough today.¡±

    Shale grinned. ¡°Champion by night, sick as a leper by morning. Life truly finds its own balance.¡± Terra hummed in agreement as she sipped a glass of milk.

    ¡°Wish I could remember it,¡± Derrek mumbled. ¡°Where did you go last night anyway? I didn¡¯t see you after nine.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Shale raised an eyebrow. ¡°I was asleep. It was past my bedtime.¡± He checked his watch. ¡°Oh my, I must be off. I''ve got a meeting with my campaign manager in fifteen minutes.¡± As he rose, he chugged the remainder of his orange juice, leaving the glass in the sink as he went for the door. He stopped before exiting, and said to Terra, ¡°Your taxi is waiting out front, don¡¯t even consider worrying about the fare, my treat.¡± Before any objections could be raised, he was gone, off to change the world. Just another day for William Shale.

    Terra polished off her milk in much the same way Shale had done with his OJ and went to place the glass in the sink. ¡°You¡¯re leaving already?¡± Derrek couldn¡¯t help the whining note that entered his voice. Terra just smiled.

    ¡°Alas, even old gods with dead worshipers have responsibilities to tend to. I¡¯m a licensed doula,¡± she said the word ¡®licensed¡¯ like it tasted sour on her tongue, ¡°and I have three births to attend today, four if Bernice has Indian for lunch.¡±

    That¡¯s right, she was the goddess of fertility. It seemed even gods had day jobs.

    ¡°I hope everything goes well, then.¡± That whining tone again. The reapers touch was supposed to keep his emotions in check, keep him cool and collected no matter the stress hoisted upon him. He had stared down death several times without so much as a tremble, but the idea of Terra leaving ate at him. He longed for her, even though she stood only a few feet away from him. Was this¡­ love?

    ¡°It will, as long as I''m there.¡± She walked toward him, still smiling, hips swaying under her robe. She leaned over the table and planted a kiss on his cheek. Warmth flowed through him. ¡°I really have to go, hopefully we can spend more time together next time.¡±

    Next time. Those two words banished every trace of worry from Derrek''s body. He didn''t want her to leave, but he could stand it as long as she would be there in his future. He found himself smiling back at her. ¡°Next time, then.¡±

    Terra smiled with clear satisfaction. She pivoted and tossed off her robe, draping it over Derrek''s head. When he removed it, he saw she was fully dressed, wearing a sort of macrame poncho-skirt-combo, charms and necklaces piled upon her breast. In effect, she looked like the quintessential doula. ¡°Until next time, Derrek.¡± She walked out the door, and left him alone with the leftovers.

    Alone.

    ¡°Hell of a party, huh?¡±

    All of a sudden, Discord was sitting across from him, dipping a piece of bacon into the yolk of an egg. He loved doing that, appearing out of thin air. One time Derrek had been looking at an empty chair, blinked, and suddenly he was there. He always timed it perfectly, always waited until no one was in the room except exactly who he wanted to talk to. He doesn''t want to talk to Terra.

    ¡°What''s up with you and Terra?¡±

    The bacon hovered inches away from Discords¡¯ mouth and the man sat rigid. He closed his mouth and slowly sat down the bacon. He took a deep breath, looked at Derrek, and grinned.

    ¡°You''re real sharp, nobody could say otherwise. I thought I was being super chill about it too, nice and low-key,¡± he picked the bacon back up and pointed at Derrek with it, ¡°You''re hungover as Churchill on Easter and still locked and on target, ain''t no fooling you!¡± he laughed and took a bite of the bacon.

    ¡°Quit blowing smoke up my ass,¡± Derrek took the other piece of bacon from Discords plate, dipped in his yolk, and bit into it. ¡°You completely disappeared whenever she came near. You usually try your hardest to piss everyone off, and I¡¯ve never once seen you avoid anything. Not once.¡±

    Discord chewed his bacon intently. It took several seconds for him to respond. ¡°We were together, way back in the day. Twelfth or thirteenth century, if I remember right. We both happened to be in Peru, backing different royal factions. I won that particular bout, for the record, my guy died as the ruler of the Cuzco kingdom. Terra hates losing, but she likes winners more. We spent maybe thirty years together, but then good old Gengis started up his legacy and I just had to get in on it.¡± He produced a flask and emptied it into his almost-empty orange juice, taking a sip of the ¡®mixed drink.¡¯ ¡°I handled it poorly. Burned that bridge, salted the earth and executed the masons. She hates me, and I deserve it.¡±

    They stared at each other for a moment. They had been together for thirty years. Derrek was only twenty seven himself. They had been together longer than he had been alive. He took a deep breath and let it out slow.

    ¡°Is that it?¡±

    Discord blinked. ¡°Is what it?¡±

    ¡°You dated eight hundred years ago? You didn''t burn her house down? Kill all her worshipers? Put a curse on all her kin?¡±

    Discord looked down at his eggs sheepishly. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve done all of that, but not to her.¡±

    ¡°Then that''s it. It''s quite literally ancient history.¡± Derrek sipped his non-alcoholic orange juice. ¡°Now is now, then is then. If you can reconcile with the Devourer, I can handle the fact you used to be with the woman I¡¯m in love with.¡±

    Discord looked up. ¡°In love?¡±

    He hadn''t meant to say it, but he realized it was true. He wouldn''t deny it even if he wanted to. He felt a smile crawl across his face.

    ¡°That''s right, I¡¯m in love.¡± he put up his hand before Discord could say anything. ¡°Before you say it, I know she¡¯s attracted to me because I¡¯m rich and powerful. I know I measure the time I¡¯ve known her in hours. I know she¡¯s a goddess and that comes with complications beyond my understanding. I know she was using magic to charm me all last night. I don¡¯t care about any of it. I¡¯m in love, and that''s that.¡±

    Discords¡¯ eyebrows shot up. ¡°You knew she was charming you?¡±

    ¡°I noticed it after we danced. I canceled it out and just played along.¡±

    Discord was quiet for a moment. He grabbed his beverage and slowly poured half of it into Derrek''s orange juice, then sipped what was left. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could do that.¡±

    Derrek''s smile became a smirk as he sipped his now-alcoholic OJ. A little hair of the dog was just what he needed. ¡°It wasn''t so hard. I sensed it as a kind of spiritual signal, all I had to do was send out a negating signal. I don''t think she even noticed.¡±

    Discord waved away the achievement Derrek was so proud of. ¡°No, not that, that''s bush league. I didn¡¯t know you could feel love, the real stuff. Not with the reaper''s touch.¡± He smiled. Not his usual shit-eating grin, but something warmer. More genuine. ¡°I keep thinking of you as the Devourer, not the person it''s in. You''re just chockablock full of surprises.¡±

    Derrek was too hungover to feel awkward about the bare sincerity. This too, was a favorite trick of Discords¡¯, letting down all his walls, appearing vulnerable and inviting vulnerability from others. He aimed for the impression of letting the real him show, not the high-flung murderous jester persona he wore, but Derrek always felt this was nothing but another mask slipped on, rather than a mask removed. Trick or not, it tended to work. Derrek raised his drink, which was close enough to a screwdriver, and Discord met it in a toast.

    ¡°So glad you see me as a person,¡± Derrek said with a sly grin, ¡°I feel so actualized.¡±

    The shit-eating grin was back. ¡°Glad to hear it, you''ll need to be well and actualized for what we''ve got in store.¡±

    ¡°No no no,¡± Derrek waved a hand around, ¡°No way in hell am I doing anything today! I''m hungover!¡±

    Discord arched an eyebrow meaningfully, ¡°Are you?¡±

    Derrek realized with a jolt his head didn''t hurt anymore. The pain in his arms and ribs had faded almost entirely. The nausea was completely gone. He felt downright well-rested! He glared at Discord.

    ¡°Is this me, or did you drug me again?¡±

    Discord looked offended. ¡°You drug a guy one time and he holds it over your head forever! I didn''t put anything in your cup but vodka.¡± He took a sip and muttered into his cup, ¡°made from panacea potatoes.¡±

    Derrek stared at him. ¡°You''re fucking with me.¡±

    That grin again. ¡°Had to try. All you needed was a good breakfast. The immune system of a cockatrice is intrinsically linked with its digestive system. They can rapidly digest their food and gain a massive immunity to toxins and diseases. They had to eat some weird shit somewhere along the evolutionary tree, and this allowed them to eat exactly whatever the hell they want. I had a feeling you picked that trait up after you ate one, and that in conjunction with your baseline physiology cleared up all of last night''s excitement.¡±

    ¡°You never miss a chance to exposit.¡±

    Discord shrugged, ¡°I prefer my bullshit to have a little substance, sue me.¡±

    ¡°I''ve already mailed the papers.¡± Derrek sighed ¡°Where are we going and how much of my day are you going to take up?¡± It was easiest to go ahead and ask the right questions.

    ¡°A small town in Montana, and most if not all of it.¡±

    Derrek closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. ¡°You are such an asshole, you know that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been said. But you know the deal.¡±

    Derrek sighed and said in reluctant unison with Discord, ¡°Saturdays are for the boys.¡±

 Putting on a mask

    ¡°What the hell is a blood cult?¡±

    They were laying down prone at the crest of a hill looking down at a ranch. It was a big property, with a large house, a larger barn, silos, a fenced off field with cows, goats, and donkeys, and a large corn field, the entire property peppered with a variety of vehicles. Dozens of people were rushing around from spot to spot, carrying heavy bags and gardening equipment. Derrek had never seen a ranch, but this was about what he expected.

    Discord pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. ¡°You met most of the sane gods last night, but there are things way older than them. Older than me. Older than names, even. Gods from times so long past they may as well never have been. Old, insane, and hungry. Most of them just exist in their own spaces, somewhere outside of space where concepts have more substance than actual mass would, oblivious to their own obscurity. Then there''s the blood god.¡±

    He scratched at his neck and handed over the binoculars so Derrek could examine for himself. ¡°The blood god is a persistent one, can''t fault it for that. It wants back into the physical world, so it can claim all the blood for its own. Hell if I know why, probably just so nobody else will have any. Selfish as shit. It reaches its tendrils into the thoughts of the bloody-minded, folk who¡¯re just serial killers waiting to happen. It whispers promises of power, seduces them with visions of their enemies made corpses at their feet. Then it draws them together so they may complete its work, that work being killing enough people to get enough blood for it to regain substance.¡±

    He produced a flask and took a swig. ¡°Its been trying at it for millennia. I''ve been holding it back for millennia. Pretty low effort, all things considered, just have to wipe the cultists out wherever they start up in earnest.¡±

    Derrek had been examining the barn, specifically the heavily reinforced door, triple locked and barred from the outside. He put down the binoculars and looked sidelong at Discord. ¡°¡®In earnest?¡¯ So it''s fine if they only kill a few people, just not enough that it becomes your problem?¡±

    ¡°That''s the gist. We aren''t human, Havok. As blas¨¦ as it sounds, we can''t make every mass murder our problem. These guys almost never get past ten or fifteen people before the authorities catch on. The blood god gives no advice on covering anything up, just a need to spill blood. Nine out of ten fires burn themselves out.¡±

    Derrek shook his head and looked back through the binoculars at the house. ¡°I don''t think that''s true. Fire departments exist for a reason. I don''t see why you can''t just tip off the authorities after the first one or two.¡±

    It was Discord¡¯s turn to shake his head. ¡°I tried that before in India, caused a massive firefight that left the entire commune and twelve officers dead. All over three bodies. Then there was Jonestown. I was downright lucky they have to sacrifice non-believers for them to count, otherwise that might''ve just been the end of things.¡± He looked right at Derrek. ¡°Most things need to play themselves out. Our responsibility isn''t to stop every bad thing from happening, just the really bad things. I know you''re a philanthropist, but there''s some problems you can''t fix, and some that you shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    There was some sense in that. While Discord was waxing on, Derrek had been considering distributing funds to police offices nationwide, how he might be able to have them trained to identify and stop this kind of threat. A great deal of his time as an employee of Frostbyte had been spent in budgeting; he had even planned the ecological excursion to Germany that changed his life. It was simply infeasible. Even if the cost wasn''t outrageous, there was no way he could justify training cops to hunt down murderous cults to his board of directors. And even if he could, he would be limited to the United States, and the other ninety-five percent of the world would be squarely outside of his jurisdiction. There was no way to stop the problem entirely. There was nothing he could do.

    ¡°I hate it when you''re right.¡± He shoved the binoculars at Discord. ¡°If these guys are on your radar, then how many have they killed?¡±

    ¡°At least fourteen, I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    ¡°Fourteen people?!¡± Derrek said it louder than he meant to. He guessed it had to be at least ten, but the number still shocked him. Fourteen people. He coughed and carried on, trying to ask the right questions. ¡°How have they gotten that many without being caught?¡±

    Discord grinned just a touch wider. ¡°At least fourteen. They take in a lot of converts, and kill the ones that don''t work out. Mostly hitchhikers and vagabonds, looking for as little civilization as they can live with. They aren''t all bad people, just lost.¡± He put the binoculars down, still gazing at the ranch. ¡°It''s plain bad luck they chose to come here, but their fates are sealed.¡±

    Derrek grimaced. ¡°Do we really have to kill all of them?¡±

    ¡°We do. If we let any of them survive they¡¯ll just go and start another commune. They''re like ants, except they''re all queens.¡±

    Derrek hated the idea of killing anyone. During the attack at the Schadenfreude, he¡¯d had to kill six of the poachers, Bernmore included, and it weighed on him. Bernmore aside, it was much too easy; he had killed all the others in single strikes, tearing through them and their weapons like tissue paper. It made him realize just how powerful he had become, how fragile people were, how easily entire lives could be snatched away. But what bothered him most was how little it affected him. He expected nightmares, tremors, paranoia, some kind of guilt, but all he felt was that same persistent calm as always. Those six lives weighed on him, but only as much as the air around him did. He breathed it in with every inhale, and out with every exhale, simply a part of him. A part that needed to exist.

    Derrek steeled himself, he was ready for what was to come. ¡°How are we doing this? Guns blazing or are we going quiet, one-by-one?¡±

    Discord held up a hand. ¡°Woah there, tiger. I love where your head¡¯s at, but there''s a better way.¡± He laid his hands flat on the ground and pushed himself straight up to his feet. He loudly snapped his fingers and his entire person changed in an instant. His coat had shortened to a jacket, dark red and travel worn, his pants and shirt drab and dirty. His hair was shorter, tangled, and slightly gray with a full overgrown beard to match. To tie it all together, he was a full head shorter than an instant before. ¡°We¡¯re going Incognitus.¡± He spoke with an indecipherable accent and sounded like he was gargling gravel.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Derrek felt silly looking up at him from the ground, so he rose to his feet. ¡°What the actual fuck are you doing?¡±

    Discord posed with his hands on his hips. ¡°The names Donatello Castello, but everyone calls me Donkey. I''ve been bummin¡¯ around longer than any three so-and-so''s put together. Been everywhere this side the Mississippi, and two thirds of everywhere on t¡¯other. Nicky Cage bought me a sandwich one time.¡± He stabbed a finger toward Derrek. ¡°And you''re some punk I took under my wing back in Topeka.¡±

    Derrek shook his head. ¡°You are out of your damn mind. You really think I¡¯ll let you walk me in there and offer me up as a sacrifice?¡±

    Discord smiled under his beard. ¡°As expected, you''re still as sharp as my can-openin¡¯ spoon, but you ain''t the bait in this trap, boy. You''ll be the bright-eyed convert, a lost soul lookin¡¯ for a home. Ol¡¯ Donkey¡¯s too perfect a lamb to pass on the slaughter. Ain¡¯t believed in nothin¡¯ since Oasis broke up. Them blood so-and-so¡¯s¡¯ll be chomping at the bit to spill my blood!¡±

    Derrek pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°This is stupid. Do you need information from them or something? We can just interrogate them.¡±

    Discord sighed and dropped the accent. ¡°If we just wipe them out the cops will still be looking for a perpetrator, and I don''t feel like dealing with the feds this week. If I act as the sacrifice, they¡¯ll all gather at the altar for the ceremony at sundown. My immortal blood will desecrate the altar and sever their connection to the blood god, driving them all into a murder frenzy. They¡¯ll all kill each other, we¡¯ll wipe out the stragglers and pose them accordingly, and the whole story will be old news in a week. Just another suicide cult, water cooler chatter at best.¡±

    Derrek stared at him, horrified. ¡°We¡¯re going to make them kill each other? That''s horrible.¡±

    Discord shrugged. ¡°If you¡¯d rather go down there, spill blood and make a pyramid of their heads, I won''t stop you, but I''m trying to minimize our role in this. It''s easier to steer things your way when no one sees you at the wheel. If we went down there and watered the grass with their blood, we¡¯d be done by lunch, but then we¡¯d have a few very specific agents sniffing at our trail. These guys have already connected you and I with two thumbtacks and a piece of string, and they¡¯ll take any excuse to grill you for details, even if they can''t arrest you.¡±

    Derrek blinked. ¡°Why wouldn''t they be able to arrest me?¡±

    Discord stared at him. ¡°You have money. Laws don''t apply to you the same as everyone else. You''ve lived in the states all your life, haven''t you?¡±

    ¡°Of course I have.¡±

    ¡°Then none of this is news. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, and nothing will stick to you. I do the same, but because no one can physically stop me. They come after me, they¡¯ll die. They come after you, your lawyers will make them wish they were dead. They¡¯ll get you off on every technicality they can find, bribe every witness, and replace the jury so many times they won''t even know what they''re trying you for!¡± Discord¡¯s voice had been steadily rising, and he took a breath and brought it back down. ¡°What I¡¯m saying is it¡¯ll be a pain in the ass, but you¡¯ll never do any time. If you wanna go and get bloody, go on ahead, but you¡¯ll be doing it alone.¡±

    There it was, then. It was Discords'' way or the hard way. Derrek didn¡¯t want to kill anyone at all, but if doing so would save innocent lives, he would do it without hesitation. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Discord was right. Again. It was an absurd plan, but it was also the path of least resistance. Assuming the cultists didn''t sniff them out right off and force a confrontation.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Derrek said, defeated, ¡°we¡¯ll do it your way. Do you have a hat or something for me?¡±

    Discord grinned disconcertingly. ¡°¡®Or something,¡¯ is right.¡± He snapped his fingers and pointed at Derrek. He waited expectantly for a moment, realized something, and produced a small mirror from his jacket. Derrek took it and examined himself with a sinking feeling. The face bore no resemblance to his own. His hair was a shaggy dark brown, his hollow cheeks were adorned with scattered acne and a poor attempt at a beard, and his eyes were bright blue. He looked down and saw his clothes had changed too. He had gotten himself a long coat similar to Discords, but in dark blue; It made concealing his weapons easier on these Saturday excursions, and went well with the plain dark shirt and pants he had been wearing. He was now wearing jeans, a gray t-shirt, and an army jacket, all worn, dirty, and threadbare.

    Derrek took himself in for a moment, then shot a glare at Discord. ¡°If you can do this, why can''t you make my hair brown?¡±

    ¡°First off, it would be a lame cop-out.¡± He took the mirror back and tucked it in his jacket. ¡°Second, what I did to you is just an illusion, one that only lasts a day and that I''m too lazy to keep applying indefinitely. Not to mention these kinds of things always fail at points of major narrative significance, like while you''re in a big meeting or addressing congress or hooking up with a sexy demon.¡±

    ¡°While I''m what?¡±

    ¡°Don''t fuck a demon, Havok. Vagina dentata ain''t just bad sex ed, it''s a warning.¡± Discord held out his hand expectantly. ¡°Now hand her over.¡±

    Derrek had been regretting learning Latin, but that regret was replaced with sharp annoyance. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°I can, I just usually chose not to be.¡±

    ¡°I am not going in there unarmed. No, not again. And before you quip about how I ¡®didn''t die,¡¯ there''s a big difference between a bar fight and a murder cult!¡±

    Discord was in prime quipping position, pointing a finger at the sky and his mouth half open. He let the arm fall limp. ¡°A heavy-duty beauty like Lillith doesn''t mesh with your trampish visage.¡± he reached into his jacket and brought out a small revolver. ¡°This¡¯ll track better, and won''t leave behind shell casings. Plus you''ve still got your knives, I¡¯d hardly call you unarmed.¡±

    Derrek wanted to argue, but there was no point. He would only have six shots, but at least he would have shots. Better than nothing. He drew his pistol and traded it for the revolver. It was smaller than he was used to, but still had a good weight to it, all the metal scratched and tarnished, electrical tape around the grip.

    ¡°That''s all cosmetic,¡± Discord commented as he tucked Lillith away, ¡°everything that matters is still oiled and primed for violence, don''t you worry. Truth be told, it''s one of my favorites. I did all my usual etchings internally, a major proof-of-concept. No strength like seeming weak.¡±

    Derrek tucked the unassuming pistol into his inner jacket pocket, the weight felt different, but comforting. ¡°So what do we do? Just stroll up and ask to work for a meal?¡±

    Discord''s eyes shined eagerly. ¡°That''s a great idea! I was just gonna say weird shit until they shut me up with a knife. You''re a natural born insurgent.¡± He coughed deeply and slid back into the voice of Donkey. ¡°Now all we need is a name for the so-and-so you''re playin¡¯. Somethin¡¯ snappy, like Mikey S. or Junebug. I do the whole D. C. so-and-so for all my aliaseses, but I don''t give a square shit who knows I''m me. You may feel differently though.¡±

    Derrek thought of using his middle name, Lloyd, but that would be evidence in and of itself. The less breadcrumbs the better. He supposed any name was as good as another.

    ¡°Shawn will do. Shawn Bates.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯d you pull that from? Kindergarten bully?¡±

    ¡°Just the first name that came to mind.¡± Derrek began stretching before the climb down. Always important to stretch. ¡°I didn''t go to kindergarten.¡±

 A cuckoo in the nest

    The air was thick with wood smoke, animal musk, and dung as they came to the gate. Strong smells, but Derrek had smelled worse. Compared to the rancid garbage and urine soaked alleyways of his youth and the rotting corpse of an unfortunate spelunker and blood soaked hotel of the past year, it was downright bearable.

    ¡°Let me do the talkin¡¯,¡± Discord said in the person of Donkey, ¡°just to start out. I¡¯ll get their peepers on me and make sure they stay there, then you crank up the charm. Ingratiate yerself, help out with some work, make some friends.¡±

    Derrek, who felt no need to change his voice as Shawn, gave him a sidelong glance. ¡°We aren''t here to make friends.¡± The exact opposite, in fact.

    Discord vaulted over the gate and unlatched it from the inside, completely unnecessarily. ¡°The whole plan hinges on you ingratiatin¡¯ yerself with these so-and-so¡¯s so they invite you to the sundown fun town. Besides, you can never have too many friends.¡±

    Derrek closed the gate behind him and followed Discord down the driveway. ¡°Why was the gate unlocked? You¡¯d think they''d want the extra security.¡±

    Discord shrugged. ¡°Small town, nobody locks their doors. The gate itself drives off ninety percent of trespassers. And don''t change the subject, I need you minglin¡¯, punk.¡±

    Derrek sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll try, and don''t call me a punk.¡±

    ¡°I''m not. Donkey¡¯s callin¡¯ Shawn a punk. Get in character, boy! We¡¯re up.¡±

    There were three people ahead of them huddled around the engine of an old pickup truck, two men and a woman. There was a big man wearing a plaid hat working on something near the front with the woman, while the other man looked on from out of their way, scratching his beard and nodding at everything they said. Derrek got the impression the bearded one had no idea what he was looking at, but his smile-and-nod routine was spot on.

    They approached, only a few yards away now, and Discord cleared his throat. The mechanics spun around surprised, staring at them with wary expressions. ¡°Howdy fellas,¡± Discord nodded to the woman, ¡°and filet. Me and the punk here,¡± he threw a thumb over his shoulder at Derrek, ¡°just hopped off the rail comin¡¯ from Glasgow. Sad to say, my thinker ain''t what it used to be, and I left our week''s provisions in the car when we jumped. Long story short, we¡¯re in need of a place to sleep and grub to eat ¡®til the next train blows through. Ain''t got no scratch, but we can earn our keep.¡±

    The mechanics shared glances with each other, the man with the hat gripping a wrench with white knuckles. Derrek crossed his arms, the fingers of one hand tickling the grip of his gun, just in case. The woman took a step forward and sized them up, clearly unimpressed.

    ¡°It''s well enough you''re broke,¡± she said with hands on hips, ¡°we ain''t no motel. Work is the only rent we take here. I''m Charlotte.¡± She thumbed over her shoulder at the man with the beard. ¡°That''s Clem,¡± at the one with the hat, ¡°and that''s Bert. And y¡¯all are?¡±

    Discord grinned under his beard. ¡°Folk call me Donkey.¡± He looked at Derrek quizzically. ¡°And I forget this punk''s name. What''s your name, punk?¡±

    Derrek resisted the urge to glare at him. ¡°Shawn, pleasure to meet you.¡±

    Charlotte nodded and grunted as though she was willing to accept that as a possibility. ¡°Save the pleasure for later, punk, work¡¯s what you''re getting. What can y¡¯all do? If either of you know shit about trucks, it¡¯d be a godsend.¡± She spun around and kicked the truck''s rusty bumper. ¡°This hunk of junk crapped out a month ago, and none of us can figure it.¡±

    Discord grunted and hitched up his belt, sauntering up to the engine. ¡°Ain''t nothin¡¯ with four wheels and a tailpipe I can''t fix, lemme take a look.¡± He stepped up on the bumper and bent over the engine, sticking his ass high in the air as he fiddled with something. Metal clanged and a few sparks flew. He threw important-looking pieces to the side, connecting things Derrek thought did not need to be connected. There was a soft cracking sound, and Derrek was reminded of his egg-heavy breakfast. Discord grunted again, hopped down with a thump, and slammed down the hood. ¡°Crank her up, oughta run like moderately-used.¡±

    Clem and Bert looked at each other doubtfully, but Clem entered the truck and turned the ignition. Instantly, the truck roared to life, the engine bellowing over the sounds of the animals. Clem killed the truck, and climbed out with a big smile on his bearded face.

    ¡°Hot damn!¡± he slapped Discord on the back, ¡°You''re a goddamn truck whisperer!¡± He turned to the woman. ¡°Charlie, you mind if I take him to the house? Adam¡¯ll wanna meet this one.¡±

    Charlotte nodded. ¡°That''ll be fine. Bert, take the punk around back and help unload the feed. Then get with Lisa and Raph and get that fence mended, then you gotta wrangle the straggling cattle, gotta let the outpasture grow up some more. I''m gonna take the truck into town and get it serviced.¡±

    ¡°You got it, boss.¡± Bert patted Derrek on the back. ¡°He¡¯s sure gonna earn that stew tonight.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit, stew!¡± Clem patted his stomach and licked his lips, ¡°I love Darlene''s stew!¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s mouth turned up at one corner, not quite a smile, but close. ¡°I''m gonna pick up some cumin for it too while I''m out, shaping up to be the best batch yet.¡±

    Discord slapped his own stomach. ¡°Sounds divine, I ain''t had a good stew in years. Lemme have a quick word with the punk, if you don''t mind. I wanna make sure he remembers his manners.¡± Without waiting for an answer, he draped an arm around Derrek and steered him away, leaning close and speaking low. ¡°Good going, Havok, you''ve got a whole afternoon lineup. All that busy work won''t be shit for you, just help out best you can and establish your value as a worker. Chat with them, ask about their lives, and lie like hell if they ask you any questions.¡±

    Derrek nodded. ¡°Did you crack an egg in the engine?¡±

    Discord grinned. ¡°The radiator, actually. Old trick that plugs up leaks. If I did everything right, the whole damn thing will fall apart when she gets back from town, and if I play it right with this Adam fella, it''ll be the straw that breaks my camel''s back. Just do your best and side with them when they give their ultimatum. Maybe slap me around a bit to make it look convincing.¡±

    ¡°If I break your nose, can you keep it broken?¡±

    Discord''s grin grew wider. ¡°Can do, now hop to it, punk!¡± He slapped Derrek on the back and they broke, Discord following Clem to the house and Derrek following Bert as Charlotte meandered down the driveway. Bert led him around the big house, waving at the several other people as they passed by the barn. Up close, the heavy door was only more imposing. That heavy wooden beam was twice as thick as he¡¯d guessed from the hill. The altar Discord was talking about must be inside, and who knew what else besides. Derrek decided not to think about it.

    They came upon a smaller barn Derrek had seen the roof of from the hill, a heavy duty truck connected to an enclosed trailer, which he guessed was bursting with animal feed. Two women, one black, one of latin descent, were leaning against the trailer, smoking cigarettes. As they saw their approach, they both snuffed them out against the tire well and flicked away the butts, coming up to meet them.

    ¡°Who¡¯s this punk?¡± The black woman asked, looking Derrek up and down scornfully.

    Why is everyone calling me a punk?

    ¡°His name¡¯s Shawn,¡± Bert said to Derrek''s satisfaction, ¡°He blew in with some guy who fixed the old ford in a minute flat. Since we got him, we''re gonna get some work out of him.¡±

    The latin woman raised her well-manicured eyebrows, ¡°I thought that heap would never run again. You know the old saying, ¡®fix it again, Tony.¡¯¡±

    The black woman rolled her eyes. ¡°Cassie, you dumb bitch, that''s Fiats. Ford is ¡®fix or repair daily.¡¯¡±

    Cassie scratched her head. ¡°What''s Chevrolet then?¡±

    Derrek couldn''t believe his luck, he knew this one! Jeffrey had told it once during his weapons training. ¡°Cheap, hardly efficient, virtually runs on luck every time.¡± He counted off the points on one hand, the same way Jeffrey had.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Bert rumbled with laughter. Cassie counted on her fingers, silently repeating his words. Once she crunched the numbers, she joined in the merriment. The black woman smiled and nodded in approval, her gaze slightly less scornful. ¡°Ain''t heard that one before, well done, punk. I¡¯m Ida, by the way.¡±

    ¡°And I''m Cassie!¡± Cassie said with a big smile that didn''t quite meet her eyes. They were unfocused, like she was looking through Derrek rather than at him.

    Ida rolled her eyes and shook her head. ¡°This feed won''t unload itself, now. Let''s get this knocked out.¡±

    Bert and Cassie nodded and followed Ida, taking places in a chain to move the bags into the barn, leaving a gap for Derrek. Or for Shawn, rather. Without a word, Bert grabbed a bag from the truck and tossed it to Cassie, who pivoted to toss it to Derrek. He caught the bag and threw it to Ida, who stacked it on a pallet inside the barn. By the time he had turned back around, there was another bag waiting for him, and they went on like that, passing bag after bag, working in rhythm, and Derrek''s mind wandered.

    It was so odd, wearing a face that wasn''t his own. He could act any way he wanted, free of consequences. After all, none of them would live out the day if everything went to plan. But Discord had told him to try to make friends with them. Derrek liked Discord, he thought of him as his best friend, but it was a part of his very nature to fuck with people. The Warrior Spirit of entertainment, growing more powerful the more fun he was having. Everything he does, he does because he thinks it will be fun, all subject to his arbitrary sense of humor.

    At the same time, he was incredibly wise and astute, working valuable lessons from his thousands of years of life into every action. Derrek had learned just as much from Discord as he had from Shale, and more every time they spoke. There had to be a good reason. Maybe to get Derrek comfortable with infiltration operations? Or some kind of test to see how he reacted to killing people he was familiar with in a non-combat setting? Half of these Saturday outings ended up being some kind of lesson, some test of Derrek''s skill or mettle. Just last month Discord had brought him to the Russian wilderness to track down a witch that had placed a curse on a village. They spent three hours looking for her, and Derrek had learned quite a lot about how this particular breed of magic worked, the kinds of wards and spells she had been using to hide, the way that power could be imbued into carved symbols. Once they found her, Discord agreed to a game with two drinks, one of them poisoned, acted out the entire poison monologue from The Princess Bride, and drank them both. The witch lifted the curse, sold Discord some suspicious looking herbs, and sent them on their way. Discord had spun it into an example of ¡®non-violent conflict resolution,¡¯ when he had been leading Derrek to believe they had been there to kill the witch their whole way there.

    There was a good chance Discord had an ulterior motive he had no way of predicting. Derrek knew Discord hadn''t been lying, an aspect of the Reaper''s touch that had served him well, but that didn''t mean he was telling the whole truth. The name Discord itself was apt, come to think of it: a chaotic storm of lies and wisdom, loyalty and treachery, consistently inconsistent, a living paradox. He was a hard man to trust, but he had chosen not to kill Derrek and had gone out of his way to incorporate him into the larger world. He defied millennia of conflict and chose to embrace the Devourer not as an enemy, but a friend. It was all so unreal, maybe he really died in that clearing and all this was some long-winded hallucination.

    Derrek snorted. No chance of that, my imagination is nowhere near good enough to make up half of what I¡¯ve been through. It was all far too unreal not to be real, fact is usually stranger than fiction, after all. He was glad it was all real; if it were just his mind dying he never would have met Terra. He had looked into as many gods¡¯ business portfolios as he could get his hands on in preparation for the party, and all that had shown up for her was a handful of stocks and her doula business. She was attracted to him for his influence, his wealth and his power, Derrek was smart enough to see that, but there was no knowing if she felt anything for him beyond that. He was attracted to her because she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met with wit and intelligence to match. She was so wonderful in so many ways, so bright and charming, so down to earth, forgiving the pun. He could smell that rich earthy floral scent now, like she brought a blooming meadow with her everywhere she went. He would have to get an engagement ring. It may be a while before a proposal would be appropriate, maybe six months, maybe two years, but even if it took a millennium he knew he wanted her to be his wife. Whatever life had in store for him, he wanted her to be there with him for every moment of it.

    He reached out for the next bag, but the bag didn''t come. He looked up to see Cassie and Bert, bent over and breathing hard before the empty trailer. He turned around and saw Ida, in better shape but still winded. Derrek hadn''t even broken a sweat, and his breathing was still even. The bags felt light as air to him. He knew for a fact he could lift four hundred pounds with ease, only struggling when it got around eighteen hundred pounds. If he kept training, he was sure he could lift a ton easily by the end of the year. He wasn''t sure what the upper limits for his body were, but they felt very far away.

    ¡°Whew!¡± Derrek wiped away imaginary sweat from his forehead, pretending to breathe hard, leaning against the barn as if he were exhausted. ¡°We got that knocked out, huh?¡±

    Bert grinned under his beard. ¡°I¡¯ll say, that was some good work from you, Shawn. Can¡¯t tell you how many newbies go right to complaining once they get their hands on one of them bags.¡± He reached around the trailer and brought around a small cooler, opening it and offering beverages around. ¡°Want a beer?¡±

    One beer can''t hurt. He accepted the bottled beer and raised it toward Bert in thanks. On muscle memory, he popped off the cap with his thumb, sending it spinning in the air and turned up the bottle, spinning it to let air run through and downed it in seconds. He let out a refreshed sigh and caught the cap before it hit the ground, put it back on and gave it a firm slap, sealing the empty bottle. He gave a small belch and handed it back toward Bert, who had been watching mystified. ¡°Thanks, that hit the spot.¡±

    Bert broke into a wide grin. ¡°Damn, kid! That''s the smoothest beer I''ve ever seen drank!¡±

    Cassie raised her beer and gave a cheering whoo, and Derrek felt Ida slap him on the back. ¡°You ain''t half bad, punk. What''s your deal?¡±

    Derrek raised an eyebrow. ¡°My deal?¡± He didn''t like where this was going.

    Ida raised her eyebrow, mirroring him. ¡°Plenty of folk breeze through here, but most of them ain''t worth the space they take up. It''s hard work on the farm, and most ain''t cut out for it, but you ain''t even out of breath after moving three tons of feed. You look like a strung out punk, but you work like an ox.¡± Her eyebrow twitched a touch higher. She wasn''t frowning, but she wasn''t smiling either. ¡°So, what''s your deal?¡±

    Derrek thought for the briefest of moments, then began to lie his ass off. ¡°I was going to join the Marines after I graduated high school. I was serious about it too, committed to a strict routine for two years.¡± He put on a grin, the lies flowing as easily as his breath. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen me in my prime. I was fifty pounds heavier, and all of it muscle.¡± He looked at the ground and sighed as if he missed the old days. ¡°Then two days before graduation, I got into a brawl outside a pizza shop, cracked a guys skull open and got hauled off to jail. The guy lived, but they labeled me the aggressor and he pressed charges, judge gave me two years for assault, and there went the Marines and my diploma in one fell swoop.

    ¡°I lost weight in prison, and even though I keep in shape I''ve been lean ever since. Nobody wanted to hire me after I got out, and I could only ever land physical work. Never bothered me much, but I¡¯d always lose my cool and knock someone on their ass and have to find other work. Eventually, I just left. Just hit the road, hitchhiked to wherever I could. I met Donkey, the guy who fixed your truck, back in Topeka.¡± Derrek grinned again. ¡°He¡¯s crazy as shit, but we look out for each other. He¡¯s not so bad, once you get used to him.¡±

    Derrek hated lying, but he had also become quite good at it. Bert closed his eyes and nodded, his trust in Derrek''s story written on his face. Cassies¡¯ smile seemed a touch sadder, but her eyes were still unfocused and distant. Idas¡¯ face hadn''t moved a fraction of an inch, that eyebrow still arched and her gaze level and appraising.

    Bert patted him on the back. ¡°I feel your pain, man. I did some time too, lost my temper more than once. Can''t get shit for a job as a felon in this damn economy, I¡¯d be back in the joint by now if it weren¡¯t for Adam.¡±

    Cassie nodded emphatically, sparks of awareness flashing behind her eyes. ¡°Adam took me in after School of the Five Elephants, this band I was touring with, broke up and left me without a ride. It''s nice here. Way better than home was.¡± Her eyes slid back into that unfocused state, her smile slipping ever so slightly.

    Ida finally let that brow drop and gave a single nod. ¡°My dad kicked me out when I was fifteen and he found out I was dating the neighbor girl.¡± She took a swig of her beer. ¡°I dropped out and hit the road, a lot like you. Ended up here. Adam¡¯s a good guy, he takes care of his own.¡±

    Derrek smiled with feigned warmth. They trusted him enough to share these pieces of their lives, completely unaware of what he was here to do. Unaware of the gun in his jacket. Unaware of the knives tucked in his belt. He was a cuckoo in the nest, just waiting for the right time to hatch. If the Reapers¡¯ touch weren''t keeping him cool, he knew for a fact he would have vomited, he was that sick of himself.

    ¡°This Adam sounds like a good guy,¡± Derrek lied. At least he hoped it was a lie. These people were murderers, but they were still people, and if Adam was their leader he was likely much the same. Just another person. The three cultists just nodded like it was the truest thing they''d ever heard.

    Bert polished off his beer and replaced the cap. ¡°Don''t worry, you''ll get to meet the man soon enough.¡± He pointed to the fence with his empty bottle. ¡°Follow the fence ¡®till you find Raph and Lisa, see if they need your help. Then get them to point you at the pasture, I¡¯m sure Brutus is giving them hell.¡±

    Derrek raised an eyebrow. ¡°Brutus?¡±

    Bert pulled out another beer from the cooler and twisted off the cap. ¡°Our bull, stubborn as shit. Bet you a dollar he¡¯ll be the last one in the pasture.¡± He took a swig and grinned at Derrek, or Shawn, rather. ¡°If we''ve got any beer left when you wrap it up you''re welcome to your share.¡±

    Ida graced the group with a grin of her own. ¡°So hop to it, punk, I wanna see how you chug after tussling with Brutus.¡± Cassie just smiled and nodded. She might not have been paying attention. There was no way of knowing. Still, it was a good example. Derrek smiled as warmly as he could muster and nodded, turning to follow the fence line, doing his best not to think about what he was here to do.

 Grabbing the bull by the horns

    Lisa slapped Derrek on the back with a meaty hand. ¡°Good job, Shawn, couldn''t have done it without you.¡±

    Derrek chuckled, only half-forcing it. ¡°Don''t over-sugar the pudding, all I did was hold the boards steady.¡±

    Raph, a lanky man with a riot of red hair barked out a laugh. ¡°Steady as an oak, those boards didn''t shift a hair in your hands. There''s a wrong way to do things, and that wasn''t it.¡± He grabbed one of the boards with both hands and tried to shake it with force, the fence remaining firm and unmoved. He slapped one of the posts with an open hand. ¡°Steady as an oak, not even a wobble. Nothing like a simple task done well.¡±

    Derrek couldn''t deny it. He had only ever built office furniture before today, but he was satisfied with the result. They told him to hold the boards steady, and that''s exactly what he did. A few well-balanced bricks could have done the same job, but he still felt the faintest twinge of pride nonetheless. It was an ultimately pointless task, since no resident of the ranch would live out the day, but Lisa and Raph didn''t know that. For them, it was just another day. For them, they were just humoring a fresh face, letting a green punk feel useful for a few minutes.

    Derrek shook himself and hid it by stretching his neck. That was too diminutive, regardless of what these people had done behind locked doors. He had felt no pity in the tasks he was given. They were nothing but genuine in taking his help.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I could help,¡± Derrek said, wiping away imaginary sweat from his brow. ¡°I''m supposed to help round up the straggling cattle next. Is there any chance you could point me in the right direction?¡±

    Raph and Lisa exchanged a worried glance then looked back at Derrek. Raph arched a red eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯ve gotta help wrangle Brutus?¡±

    Derrek put on a confident smile and shrugged. ¡°That''s right.¡±

    Lisa whistled long and high and looked out at the pasture. ¡°I wish you luck of it.¡± She pointed at a distant group of people huddled, discussing something in the field. ¡°There''s Kurt and his boys.¡± She moved her finger toward a huge bull, even from this distance, peacefully grazing at the grass. ¡°And there''s Brutus. Three-tons of attitude shoved into a two-ton frame.¡±

    Derrek looked at the bull for a moment, doubt trickling into his mind, then looked back to Lisa, remembering something Discord told him on one of their weekend adventures. He had looked it up, as he did with most of Discords¡¯ sayings, and found out it was a quote from a fantasy series, but it was still an effective phrase. ¡°When you have a task, it''s better to do it than to live with the fear of it. We just need to get him into the next pasture, right? It''s not like I''m inviting Brutus to waltz.¡± He gave a false chuckle and was relieved to see both faces in front of him break into grins.

    Raph punched him on the arm playfully. ¡°If anyone¡¯s inviting anyone to dance, it''s Brutus. Be careful, he¡¯s more partial to tango.¡± He barked out another laugh and gave Derrek another light punch. ¡°Give him hell, punk, we¡¯ll be cheering you on.¡±

    Derrek nodded and hopped the fence in one fluid motion, trudging his way across the pasture. As he came upon Kurt and his sons, he started to catch some of their discussion.

    ¡°No, dammit!¡± Kurt snapped, shaking his head. He was a big man with a crew cut and a beer gut, his red flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows, crossed arms knotted with muscle. ¡°We tried that already! He¡¯s too smart to guide with a cattle panel, he took both of you down at once last time we tried!¡± He slapped the young man to his left upside his head. A light tap, but with an audible smack. ¡°Ya dingus.¡±

    The young man rubbed the side of his head, slouching a bit. Aside from the posture, he was a spitting image of his father, separated by a few decades and a few dozen pounds. ¡°I was only saying, that''s how we got everyone else. I just figured we weren''t lucky last time.¡±

    Kurt scoffed. ¡°Don''t figure too hard, might hurt yourself.¡± His other son snickered and Kurts¡¯ gaze snapped to the lanky, curly-haired youth. ¡°Don''t get cocky, Clyde. I don''t see you offering any bright ideas.¡± Kurt shook his head and grumbled, turning away from his sons to see Derrek stepping carefully around a large cowpie. His annoyed frown shifted to a quizzical one. ¡°Who the hell are you, punk?¡±

    Is it my posture? The acne? Why is everyone calling me a punk?

    Derrek put on a friendly smile and offered out his hand. ¡°Shawn Bates, new arrival. Charlotte sent me this way, said you might need help with a stubborn bull.¡± Kurt glared at Derrek''s hand, then spat out a brown glob of who-knows-what in the grass and glared at the man himself, pointedly not shaking the hand. Derrek put the hand down.

    ¡°Kurt Dunn.¡± He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the younger, thinner version of himself. ¡°That''s Elliot.¡± He threw the thumb over his other shoulder at his curly haired son. ¡°And that''s Clyde. You know anything about cattle?¡±

    Derrek cracked a half-grin. ¡°Not a thing, except they¡¯re where steaks come from.¡±

    Elliot snickered, and Kurt shot a glare at his son, pointing it back at Derrek after a second. ¡°Wouldn''t do you much good even if you did, Brutus ain''t like any bull I¡¯ve ever seen. Never seen a bull hold a grudge. All he wants is what he wants, and right now he wants to be in this field.¡± He spat again. ¡°We¡¯re fresh out of ideas, so if you''ve got anything besides smartass remarks, I¡¯m all ears.¡± He crossed his arms, his scowl taking on a hint of smugness.

    Derrek assessed the situation. The gate was near him, closed at the moment, but could swing out wide. There were cattle panels, metal grids roughly four by twelve feet. If one person manned the gate and two held a panel, they could form a funnel for a fourth to drive Brutus through. He looked over at the bull in question. Even though he was facing away and had his head down grazing, Derrek could still see the tips of his horns over his muscular back. It was almost like an optical illusion, his scale defying his surroundings. Driving something that big would take some doing.

    ¡®Never seen a bull hold a grudge.¡¯

    Derrek snapped his fingers and looked back at Kurt and his sons. ¡°Kurt, open the gate and hold it swung out wide, and be ready to close it. Clyde, Elliot, hold one of those panels on the opposite side of the gate, forming a funnel. I''m going to get him through¡±

    Kurt frowned a touch deeper. ¡°And how do you plan on driving him?¡±

    Derrek grinned. ¡°Oh, I''m not going to drive him.¡± He started walking toward the wall of beef and called over his shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s going to drive me.¡± He was gratified to catch Kurts frown melt away into bafflement.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Are you out of your damn mind?¡±

    Derrek waved behind him, not breaking stride. ¡°That remains to be seen. Just make sure you''re ready at the gate.¡± He didn''t look back again, but he could feel Kurt shaking his head disapprovingly. He also felt a smirk crawl across his face. It faded as Brutus came into scale.

    It occurred to him he didn''t have a plan. Well, that wasn''t entirely accurate, he had the bones of a plan; piss off the bull, get it to chase him to the other pasture. It was the ¡®pissing off the bull¡¯ part that was still hazy, and the part that grew less appealing the closer he got to the bull.

    Could I just throw a rock at him? Would he even feel it? He looked around, but there weren''t any rocks big enough to throw, only a few pebbles among the grass. He didn''t have anything on him he could throw either, and it wasn''t like he could just shoot the bull. Or stab him, for that matter. There wouldn''t be any explaining that away, regardless of his silver tongue. Maybe not silver, but silver-plated at least.

    He crouched low a few dozen feet from the grazing Brutus¡¯ hindquarters, watching as muscle contracted under his thick hide just from the effort of standing upright. If he noticed Derreks¡¯ approach, he showed no sign of it, happily munching along, no care in the world. Derrek weighed his options as the bulls¡¯ thin tail swished back and forth, flicking at flies, occasionally resting against the bulls dangling¡­

    ¡°Goddamn it,¡± Derrek whispered to himself. He knew exactly how to piss off the bull. The good news was he had all the tools he needed, the bad news was he forgot to pack hand sanitizer. He made a mental note to always pack hand sanitizer from this day forward. He took several deep breaths, psyching himself up, and slowly crept up behind the bull. He could smell the animals¡¯ musk when he was within twenty feet, and it only grew stronger the closer he was. He was close enough to reach out and touch Brutus now, and he sure hadn''t gotten any smaller. Now that he was face to face with his task, he was seriously reconsidering. Do bulls kick? Great, now I need to research livestock behavior. Oh well, that was one of those problems you just have to deal with if it comes up, for now all he had to do was apply a little force. He took a deep breath through his mouth, sparing his nostrils, and reached out his hand, holding his middle nail against his thumb, pushing against it, feeling the pressure rise as his fingers ached with exertion. Better to do it, than to live with the fear of it.

    He relaxed his thumb and let his middle finger fly, flicking the bull hard in his testicles. The bull froze solid and a shiver radiated out from the point of contact along its skin, rolling down the hind legs and across its back, disappearing from Derrek''s view as it crept up its neck and presumably to its snout. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Brutus lifted his head, turning even slower to look at Derrek, his huge, beady eyes boiling with rage. He let out a massive snort of air through his snout, and Derrek started running.

    He bolted toward the gate as Brutus bellowed behind him, slamming his shoe down hard on a cow pie on almost the first step, but he had bigger problems. He could hear the pounding hooves closing in, and when he felt the bull right behind him, he rolled to the side, letting Brutus barrel past him, the wind rushing past like from a semi truck. He scrambled to his feet as the bull made a wide turn, never slowing down for an instant, his murderous eyes and even more so horns pointing straight at him and closing the distance fast. There was no time to dodge this one, there was no time to think of anything else either. It looked like he would have to take a page out of Discords¡¯ book and improvise.

    On sheer instinct, he reached out and grabbed the horns as they came to meet him, swinging his weight as he was ripped off his feet, keeping his grip to steer himself as Brutus bucked, slamming his ass into place on the bulls¡¯ back, holding the horns much like he would the handles of his motorcycle. He squeezed his legs tight, holding himself in place as Brutus jerked back and forth, trying to shake him off, but Derrek held firm. Having no idea what else to do, he pulled with all his might, pointing the bulls¡¯ head to the right. To his gratification, Brutus started charging slightly to the right. The bull wasn''t anywhere near as responsive and was much slower, but it surprised him how similar it was to his bike.

    He managed to steer the charging bull toward the gate, making constant corrections as he fought against Derrek''s every action, and thankfully Kurt and his sons had the funnel formed, all three of them staring slack jawed at this impromptu rodeo performance. ¡°Get ready to close it!¡± Derrek screamed as Brutus rapidly closed the distance. Just before Brutus got to the funnel, Derrek dived off the bull, neatly rolling on the grass as the bull blasted past the gate. He purposely stumbled and sprawled on the ground, trying to make it look like a rougher landing than it was as Kurt rushed to close the gate, latching it just as Brutus looped back around. He glared at Derrek as he pushed himself to his feet, gave another huge snort, and trotted off, finding a tall patch of grass to graze on.

    The four of them just stared at the bull for a moment, then Clyde burst out laughing. Elliot joined in, doubled over with laughter, gripping his knees tight. Kurt was next, his face lighting up with joy, sporting a grin that radiated good humor as he guffawed in harmony with his sons. It was about that time the smell hit Derrek. He looked down at his shoe and, as he expected, it was encrusted in cow shit, but it wasn''t where the smell was coming from. He tried to follow it, but it always seemed to be right behind him.

    Oh no.

    With mounting horror, he shifted his illusory jacket so he could see the back, and it was even worse than his shoe. ¡°Oh, goddamn it.¡± The laughter was redoubled, and Derrek carefully stripped off the jacket, holding it by the clean hem away from him. For the thousandth time, he was thankful for the Reapers¡¯ touch. There was no way the man he was a year ago could have pulled that off. Actually, that Derrek would''ve probably written off the idea entirely and found a solution that didn''t put his life at risk. Something cleverer than flicking a bull in the nuts, at least. He caught sight of Lisa and Raph across the field, clapping wildly, Raph standing on the fence they had just fixed, shouting something Derrek couldn''t quite make out. He grinned and took a bow, the tail of his jacket trailing the grass.

    Kurt had finally caught his breath, still sporting that bright toothy grin. It was an odd sort of magic, that craggy face shining like light breaking through storm clouds, not a shred left of the sour man who called him a punk minutes ago. He patted Derrek on the back, his sons still cackling behind him. ¡°I thought I¡¯d seen it all, but I¡¯ve sure never seen that!¡± He tilted his head back and bellowed out another laugh, planting his meaty palm on Derrek''s shoulder. ¡°You''re alright. Shawn, was it?¡±

    Derrek forced his smile a tooth wider, feeling the weight of his shit-encrusted jacket, not to mention the gun hidden inside. ¡°That''s right.¡±

    ¡°You''ve got balls, Shawn, bigger than Brutus!¡± Kurts¡¯ grin dimmed for a moment, then gleamed even brighter. ¡°Adams gotta meet you.¡± He turned to his sons, their laughter petering out, and in an instant that frown returned like a shade thrown over a lantern. ¡°Hey! Dinguses! Get those damn panels back under shelter and get some lunch, I¡¯m taking Shawn to the house.¡± He turned back to Derrek, the shade lifted and the lantern burning bright. He put his hand on Derrek''s back and started leading him. ¡°We¡¯ll get your jacket and shoes cleaned up real nice, we got two girls on laundry almost ¡®round the clock. I¡¯ll have them make it a priority. Shouldn¡¯t take long on the shoes, so just do the Japanese sock thing for a bit.¡± He barked out another laugh and patted Derrek hard on the back. ¡°I see great things in store for you, Shawn, great things!¡±

    Derrek had heard of people with a ¡®Jekyll and Hyde personality,¡¯ but until now he had never put much stock in it. It wasn''t like talking to someone who opened up after a bonding experience, it was like talking to a completely different person, like he had proven himself worthy. All according to plan, and ahead of schedule too. He smiled back at Kurt who had not stopped talking, leading him toward the big house, and subtly slid the gun out of his jacket pocket, hiding it from view as he brought it back around and tucked it into the back of his pants, covering it with his shirt. Kurt hadn''t even looked in his direction, he just led Derrek on to the house, never breaking stride and hardly taking a breath.

 Meeting the monster

    The house wasn''t any less imposing up close, three stories tall and every window lit up, pale blue paint peeling from the worn siding. The screen door creaked as Kurt swung it open, the inner door making even more noise as he led Derrek inside. It was the smell that hit him first, sickly sweet, some kind of burning herbs, familiar somehow. He coughed, feeling slightly woozy, and dread prickled at his scalp. He covered his mouth with the hem of his shirt.

    ¡°Are you burning sage in here?¡± He wheezed, blinking away tears in his watering eyes.

    Kurt smirked, oblivious to Derrek''s discomfort. ¡°A little, Adam makes this herbal mix we burn to keep the energies clean. It''s got sage, mugwort, cedar, sweetgrass, and a little bit of this Mexican tree sap called copal, binds it all together and helps it burn longer.¡± He finally took notice of Derrek''s heavy breathing. ¡°Oh shit, you alright Shawn?¡±

    Derrek waved at the air, trying in vain to disperse the thin smoke that hung in the air. ¡°I''m alright, allergic is all. Sage plays hell with my sinuses.¡± He coughed, feeling a glob of phlegm hack up from his lungs. Not wanting to spit on the floor, he swallowed it, shuddering in disgust. Kurt grabbed his soiled jacket from his hand, setting it on the floor.

    ¡°Allergies fucking suck, don''t they? I used to have a birthday lobster instead of a cake, until I went into anaphylactic shock on my seventeenth. Hell of a thing, ain''t it?¡± He patted Derrek on the shoulder, smirking. ¡°Get your shoes off and head upstairs, smoke''s thinner up there.¡±

    Derrek smiled with a warmth that surprised him. It had been a long time since he met someone who also had a shellfish allergy, albeit much more severe than his own. He nodded and crouched down, grateful his laces had been spared from the cow pie as he undid them, sliding out of his shoes, stretching out his socked toes. Kurt scooped up the shoes and jacket, striding through a doorway while nodding to a staircase. ¡°Head on up and wait for me in the hallway, I¡¯ll be up in a second.¡±

    Derrek nodded, that smile still on his face, only slipping off when he reached the top of the stairs and reality came crashing back. Discord, or Donkey rather, was slumped in a short couch at the end of the hall in front of a door, looking ahead at nothing, sipping something likely alcoholic from a battered tin cup. Derrek took a deep breath and started down the hall, passing doors and hand woven tapestries that decorated the walls. There were wooden tribal masks and dried plants affixed to the tapestries, adding an unsettling depth to the tableau. Thankfully, the smoke was thinner upstairs, but the way the masks¡¯ eyes seemed to follow him made his breathing shallow even still.

    Discord looked up at Derrek as he approached, grinning through his scraggly beard. ¡°Hey hey, punk!¡± He was still sporting that indeterminable gravel-filled accent, ¡°Heard you went on your first rodeo! I always thought cow-shit-brown was your color!¡± He barked out a wheezing laugh and Derrek rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Very funny.¡± He dropped into the couch next to Discord, coughing into his fist. ¡°Damn sage.¡±

    Discord slugged back the rest of his drink and tucked the cup into his jacket, rummaging around, producing a tube of some kind of cream and what looked like a bag of candies which he dropped into Derrek''s lap. ¡°Eucalyptus, extract and lozenges. Not a perfect solution, but pop one of these so-and-sos in your mouth and dab a little of this under your nostrils and it ought to keep you level.¡±

    Derrek grunted and did as suggested, the sweet minty taste and scent opening his sinuses wide, his breath coming much easier. He rolled up the bag of lozenges and stuffed it along with the tube into his pocket, nodding at Discord. ¡°Always prepared. Got any hand sanitizer?¡±

    Discord winced. ¡°Fresh out, I''m afraid, drank the last of it on tuesday.¡±

    Derrek snorted. ¡°Do you even have a liver anymore?¡±

    That grin grew wider. ¡°Probably. Those so-and-sos brought you here, they havin¡¯ you meet the head honcho?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, what''s he like? Anything I need to know?¡±

    Discord closed his eyes and nodded, lowering his voice and dropping the accent. ¡°He¡¯s got a major hate-boner for Frostbyte, total disdain for all the world-saving behavior.¡±

    Derrek was taken aback, then realized he shouldn''t be. ¡°Because they want the world to end. Right.¡±

    Discord patted him on the shoulder. ¡°There you go, nothing personal, they just hate everything in their way. I''ve got to say though, these guys aren''t like any blood cult I''ve seen before.¡±

    Derrek''s eyebrow shot up. ¡°How so?¡±

    Discord was quiet for a moment, looking straight ahead with his brow furrowed. ¡°All the folk you''ve worked with today, did any of them try to preach to you? Give you any subtle tests to see if you''re bloodthirsty as them? Anyone look like they were in some kind of trance?¡±

    Derrek thought for a moment. ¡°No preaching or tests, there''s one girl who seemed pretty out of it, but I think she''s just a burnout. They''re just people, like you said on the hill.¡±

    Discord hummed in a vaguely disapproving manner. ¡°People still spread their ideas. I haven''t seen any of the usual sigils or carvings, didn''t even see the spark in that Adam fella.¡±

    ¡°Spark?¡±

    Discord shook his head. ¡°It''s hard to explain. I''ve got senses you can''t even conceive of. That''s not an insult, just a fact, and I¡¯ve had a long time to sharpen them, to separate and overlay them to figure shit out with just a look, like with Jeffys¡¯-¡± he cut himself off, his mouth closing with an audible click.

    Derrek glared at him. ¡°Like with Jeffreys¡¯ what?¡±

    Discord waved his hand around wildly. ¡°Nope, no spoilers. You know I hate those.¡±

    Derrek narrowed his eyes, glaring even harder. ¡°You''re the one who brought it up.¡±

    More rapid hand-waving. ¡°Freudian slip. Hey, did I ever tell you I was Freuds¡¯ main plug? I sold that guy more booger-sugar than Escobar could''ve dreamed of.¡±

    Derrek groaned and crossed his arms, shifting the lozenge from one cheek to the other. ¡°Fine, change the subject then. I''m sure it will come out naturally with time. Asshole.¡±

    Discord grinned even wider, punching him on the shoulder, putting that accent back on. ¡°Now you''re gettin¡¯ it, punk!¡± He looked over Derrek''s shoulder, and Derrek realized he heard heavy footsteps behind him, and he turned around to see Kurt, still smiling as he approached the couch. He looked at Discord, that smile slipping away to reveal that frown again, though less intense than when it was pointed at his sons.

    ¡°You''re Donkey, ain''t you? Fella that fixed the Ford?¡±

    Discord grinned wide and offered his hand. ¡°The one and the same. Let me know if you need anythin¡¯ fixed. Let me guess, you''re a Chevy so-and-so, ain''t you?¡±

    Kurts¡¯ eyebrows shot up in surprise and that smile shone through again as he grabbed the hand and shook it. ¡°That''s right! You''ve got a good eye!¡± He looked back at Derrek. ¡°I see why you hang around with this one, you''ve got good taste in friends.¡± He released Discords hand and faced the door in front of the couch. ¡°Sit tight, I¡¯ve got to make your introductions before you meet Adam, he¡¯ll want to talk to you one-on-one.¡±

    Derrek nodded and watched Kurt knock on the door, wait three seconds, then open it, only opening it wide enough for his thick frame to slip through, latching it quietly behind him. He arched an eyebrow at Discord. ¡°That was weird, right? That felt weird.¡±

    Discord nodded. ¡°Real culty behavior right there, no doubt about it.¡± He produced a flask and took a slug. ¡°I don''t know what''s going on here, but it''s something.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    An alarm went off in Derrek''s mind. That was a lie. He narrowed his eyes at the red trickster. ¡°What aren''t you telling me?¡±

    Discord smirked, offering Derrek his flask. ¡°Sharp as can be. Of course I know what''s going on, I just don''t know what''s going on. I haven''t narrowed it enough to be sure.¡±

    Derrek accepted the flask and took a sip, the bourbon-corn-liquor concoction burning his throat. ¡°You make an art of telling the truth without saying anything. Admit it, you could just override my lie detector, couldn''t you?¡± He shoved the flask back at Discord. ¡°I hate Bad Thanksgivings.¡±

    Discord barked out a single laugh and upturned the flask, chugging the remainder. ¡°More for me, then. And yeah, I could, but it''s more fun this way.¡± He tucked the empty flask back into his jacket right as the door opened. Kurt stood in the doorway with a sheepish smile on his face, unlike any other expression he¡¯d shown thus far.

    ¡°Adam will see you now, Shawn. He¡¯s very interested in meeting you.¡± He stood aside, gesturing for Derrek to proceed inside.

    He stood up, Discord giving him a parting punch on the shoulder. He strode through the door into a dark narrow hallway, hearing Discord pat Kurt on the back as he closed the door, his Donkey accent in full force. ¡°So, tell me about this Chevy of yours. Does it got a tailpipe?¡± Any answer was silenced when the door latched, even with Derrek''s keen hearing. Soundproofing? What goes on here? There was an opening at the end of the hallway to the right, light spilling through. He took a deep breath and marched into the belly of the beast.

    It was a rather ordinary kind of room all things considered, closer to a study than an office. There were comfortable-looking couches perfectly centered on the walls to his left and right, mirrored paintings of the same river scene with red leaved trees hung above them. The floor was covered with a plush blood-red carpet, the exact same shade as Discords coat he realized with a jolt. The desk before him was almost as imposing as his own back in New York, made of hand-carved dark wood with a matching pair of chairs facing toward the least imposing thing in the room, the man who sat behind it.

    For all everyone had talked him up, Adam was a rather small man with sharp features, his clothes simple and worn. Even sitting, he couldn''t be more than five foot three, his friendly smile framed with a well-coiffed beard, draped by thick dark hair. He looked at Derrek levelly with eyes as dark and piercing as the rest of him was, his smile growing a touch wider as he stood and reached out his hand. ¡°Ah, you must be our rising rodeo star!¡± His deep voice flowed like honey, tinged with a midwestern drawl and something Derrek couldn''t quite put his finger on. ¡°Shawn, right? Shawn Bates?¡±

    Derrek didn''t have time to dwell on it. He put on a smile and shook the hand. ¡°That''s me, you must be Adam.¡± For a small man, Adams¡¯ grip was like steel, almost crushing Derrek''s hand with his scarred knobbly knuckles.

    Adam released his hand and chuckled. ¡°If I must, no one else on offer, I''m afraid.¡± He lowered himself back into his chair, gesturing to the seats in front of his desk. ¡°Please, take a seat, rest those weary bones.¡± Derrek shifted the lozenge from one cheek to the other and sat in one of the offered chairs. ¡°You must be exhausted after that exertion. You''re downright lucky Brutus chose peace today, that gate wouldn''t have stopped him.¡±

    Derrek laughed, unconsciously mirroring Adams¡¯ chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve always had luck, plenty of good and bad.¡± He looked down at his socks and wiggled his toes, curling them self-conscientiously, as if trying to make his lack of footwear less apparent. ¡°I can''t complain, all things considered. I just hope those laundry girls Kurt kept mentioning don''t mind the mess.¡±

    Adams'' smile twitched wider for a split second, flashing a golden tooth for just as long. ¡°It isn''t their first rodeo, even if it might be yours. There''s no stain my girls can''t get out.¡± He pinched the fabric of his light blue shirt and rolled it between finger and thumb. ¡°I thought this wool shirt was a goner, but Squeaky and Glinda really know their business. Got every drop of blood out, a little cow shit won''t phase them.¡±

    Derrek kept the smile on his face, but he couldn''t help the slight arch of his eyebrow. ¡°Blood, huh? Did you get hurt?¡±

    That twitch again, that tooth again. His eyes hadn''t left Derrek yet, but they had a deeper intensity now. ¡°Time and time again, my friend, but not on that occasion. Farm work can be bloody, and man was meant to eat meat.¡± He rapped the desk with his knuckles and sat straighter. ¡°Tell me something, Shawn Bates. Do you think the world can be saved?¡±

    A chill ran through Derrek''s very being, but he didn''t dare let it show. He shed the smile for a puzzled look he didn''t have to fake. ¡°Saved? Does the world need saving?¡±

    The smile didn''t twitch this time, it grew wider, showing off that gold tooth in full. ¡°Some men say it does, and some men are arrogant fools. They see the rising temperature, the changing climate, the more extreme disasters, and they think there''s something they can do about it.¡± He stood and clasped his arms behind his back, slowly coming around the desk. ¡°They amass their wealth and throw it around, recording the genome of bugs and leaves like they can cure the Earth if they can only understand it enough. They play and toy with the human body, forcing it past its expiration date with ¡®implants,¡¯ and ¡®prosthetics,¡¯¡± He spat the words with venom, sat on the desk and leaned forward, almost uncomfortably close. ¡°Men like William Shale, like Derrek Snowe.¡± He leaned even closer, uncomfortable for sure now. ¡°What do you think of men like that?¡±

    A thousand impulses raced through Derrek''s mind, all the uncontrollable tics the Reapers¡¯ touch kept in check, his want to defend himself and Will, but he couldn''t give a Derrek Snowe answer, he had to say what Adam wanted to hear. He hasn''t blinked once. He took a deep breath, he couldn''t afford to show hesitation. All he could do was lie. ¡°They''ve never done anything for me. It''s all a waste of money and time, as far as I care.¡± Best to keep it short, don''t want to say too much.

    Adams¡¯ smile didn''t shift, but it did soften somehow. He tapped Derrek gently on the shoulder, the touch like a jolt he only just resisted. ¡°A man after my own heart. There are so many more worthwhile endeavors; the homeless, the hungry, the present, the now. Tomorrow has no guarantee,  let alone years from now. No man can plan that far ahead, for the world you find is never the world you plan for. Tell me, Shawn Bates, if the world ended tomorrow, what would Frostbyte be worth?¡±

    Panic crawled across Derrek''s spine. For a terrifying instant, he thought the illusion might have broken and Adam was addressing him directly, but he could still see a brown tuft of his own hair in the corner of his eye. This was a test for Shawn, not a shot at Derrek. He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. ¡°Not a damn thing.¡± He didn''t even have to lie.

    Adam tapped his shoulder harder. ¡°Not a damn thing! That''s right! And there''s nothing they could do about it if it came to that! The stock shot down to zero, their sanctuaries burned to ash in disasters¡¯ fiery embrace, all returned to their rightful place.¡± He finally leaned back a touch, staring off at the burned hellscape of his imagination. ¡°But not us. No, no, not us. I''ll see my people through anything.¡± His eyes rolled back down to Derrek. ¡°You''re alright, Shawn Bates, you might just see the light yet.¡± He jumped to his feet and planted his hand firmly on Derrek''s shoulder, smiling down at him warmly. ¡°You must be hungry, let¡¯s grab some lunch.¡±

    Derrek blinked and swallowed the remnants of his lozenge. The conversational whiplash hit him like a truck. That was one of the first things Discord had taught him; the moment you blink is the moment you lose. Those words rang in his head as he forced a smile onto his face, hardly knowing what he was saying. ¡°I could eat.¡± Adam kept smiling, but hid his teeth, and for the first time Derrek had seen, he blinked. Adam went for the door and waved Derrek along. He couldn''t let Adam get into his head. He pushed himself out of his chair and followed him out of the office.

    There was a young woman with long blue hair waiting outside the door holding Derrek''s shoes with upturned palms, grinning ear to ear. Adam held out his arms and grabbed her by the cheeks, pulling her close and kissing her on each cheek. ¡°Squeaky, my precious sapphire, your timing is as perfect as you are.¡± He held her face for a moment longer, just looking at her, to her apparent delight.

    ¡°I-¡± she piped, then cleared her voice, ¡°I have Shawns¡¯ shoes, the jacket will still take a little bit to dry.¡± Squeaky was an apt name; every word a sharp falsetto. No, falsetto is a high pitched male voice, it''s a soprano for women. He hated correcting himself. No matter her voice, her cleaning skills were on clear display with his spotless shoes, almost all the illusionary stains Discord had transposed onto them wiped away with the real filth. He tried to reach for them, but Adam got to them first.

    ¡°Please, allow me.¡± He was showing his teeth again, holding Derrek''s shoes in one hand, gesturing to the small couch with the other.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Derrek had no idea what to do, but he did not want Adam to touch his feet. He looked at Squeaky, whose beaming face was bobbing up and down like a chicken, holding out two thumbs up. He was trapped. He looked down at his socks and steeled his nerves as he looked Adam in the eye. ¡°Okay.¡± He slowly sank into the couch, Adam crouching before him, gingerly grabbing Derrek''s tense ankle and guiding his left shoe on. That moment, the space between that shoe and the second dragged on for an eternity. He was trapped in this moment. It had always been, and always will be, an eternal piece of his soul lost in the space between two shoes. A thousand years later, Adam slipped on the right shoe. He tied both shoes in a flash, patting Derrek on the calf before standing up.

    ¡°All done, rodeo star, those ain''t going anywhere.¡±

    Derrek took what felt like the first breath of his life and stood on his wobbly legs, forcing them to steady before he looked at Adam again, that gold tooth glaring at him. He forced a smile onto his face and made a mental note to burn both the shoes and socks later. ¡°So, what''s for lunch?¡±

 Last meals

    Even with the eucalyptus, Derrek was glad to be out of that house, especially with the smell of the feast of a lunch before him filling his lungs. He hadn''t caught a whiff of any cooking while he was in the house, but the fried chicken and grilled vegetables were piled high, stacks of meats and cheeses and several loaves of homemade bread sliced and toasted for sandwiching, and platter with no less than thirty hot dogs were evident. Adam planted that hand on his shoulder again, guiding Derrek down to his level and pointing at a grill slightly away from the head of the table, or maybe at the aproned, bearded grillmaster.

    ¡°It¡¯s Clems¡¯ turn for lunch today. He can''t work a stove to save his life, but boy can he do magic with charcoal.¡± Clem caught sight of them and broke out in a grin behind his beard, waving his spatula at them with fervor. Adam gave a perfunctory wave back and Derrek did the same, barely even meaning to. It was strange being near Adam; the control he had was an almost physical thing, his lead hard not to follow, and that hand on his shoulder didn''t help things in the least.

    Suddenly, there was a hand on his other shoulder, and Discord was on the end of it, or Donkey, rather. ¡°You ought to see what this punk can do with a can of beans. What was it you called that so-and-so you sprinkled in there last time? Sa-alt?¡±

    Derrek stared at him for a moment, lost in the fact that there were two men with hands on his shoulders who only came up to his shoulders before he could even comprehend that nonsense. He shoved away the thought and forced himself back into Shawn mode, had to stay in character. This was just Discord being Discord, injecting himself whenever possible, and there was nothing to do but play along. He slipped on a half-smile and shook his head. ¡°I still can''t believe a man older than dirt never heard of salt. I mean look at you, you''re halfway pickled!¡±

    It just so happened Discord was caught mid-swig of one of his flasks, sputtering liquor down his beard and releasing Derrek''s shoulder to slap his knee in a mixture of laughter, coughing, and what sounded like just a smidge of vomit. He hacked up something vile from deep in his lungs and spat it into the grass, still working through the remnants of his mirth. ¡°I ever tell you I love you, punk? Life would be borin¡¯ as shit without your sharp tongue.¡± Donkeys¡¯ bloodshot eyes shifted deliberately toward Adam, and Derrek''s did the same.

    Adam did not look like the same man. Each of his features had shifted somehow, those sharp features¡­ not blunted, but angled, those eyes aimed at Disord like a hawk to its meal, his jaw clenched and his smile a thin line of piercing white, honed to a murderous edge. It was then Derrek felt the crushing force of Adams grip. He flexed, and the tension snapped away like a rubber band, Adam reverting in an instant. It was like looking at a cube; you could only see so many sides at once, the rest hidden from view. The whole thing couldn''t have lasted a full second, and Adam played it off with a gentle pat on Derrek''s shoulder.

    ¡°A sharp tongue and a strong back, a winning combination if I¡¯ve ever seen one. You two fix yourselves a plate, eat your fill.¡± He turned, shooting one last look out the corner of his eye at Discord. ¡°At least one of you earned it.¡± He sauntered off with his thumbs in his belt toward Bert and two men Derrek hadn''t seen before, all of them dropping all conversation to greet Adam.

    Derrek felt something nudge him, and found Discord was offering him an empty plate. ¡°Thanks. What do you think that was about?¡±

    Discord blew air out his cheeks as he piled his plate with exclusively fried chicken and hot dogs. ¡°He¡¯s trying to claim you, sees me as a threat.¡± A trace of a grin shone through his beard. ¡°All according to plan.¡±

    Derrek rolled his eyes and grabbed an ear of grilled corn and the makings of a turkey sandwich. ¡°Like you have a plan. You''re just pushing buttons and playing it by ear, like always.¡±

    Discord took a massive bite out of a chicken leg, smirking behind his greasy beard. ¡°If that were the case, I¡¯d never admit it. You''re out here playing social poker, bluffing and betting, gambling and galavanting. Meanwhile I¡¯m playing 3D chess, every move calculated to get these so-and-sos to want nothing more than my blood.¡± He winked and plopped down onto a bench at a long picnic table, chomping into the leg again, slurping up the rest of its meat, chewing twice then swallowing. ¡°Easier to steer when no one sees you at the wheel.¡±

    Derrek shook his head and sat next to him, putting together his sandwich. ¡°You''re so full of shit I never know whether to offer you a breath mint or toilet paper. Eating always gives it away for you.¡±

    Discord stopped with a hot dog halfway to his mouth, his eyes sliding to Derrek suspiciously. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Derrek pointed at the clean chicken bone, specifically the bite marks that had taken a chunk two-thirds of the way though. ¡°You love chicken bones. You only ever skip them when you''re bluffing.¡±

    Discord lowered his hot dog and furrowed his brow, eyeing the bone, taking on a defensive tone. ¡°I ate some of it.¡±

    Derrek smirked and slapped the top piece of bread onto cheese, completing his sandwich. ¡°You didn''t even realize it. Why do you think I always bring five dozen wings to poker night? Because I''m a philanthropist?¡±

    Discords¡¯ brow furrowed deeper. He set down the hot dog and snatched up the bone, snapping it in half and stuffing both pieces into his mouth, the grinding crunching sound as sickening as always, the swallow even moreso. ¡°Never show your hand, punk, I''m gonna clean your ass out next Thursday.¡±

    Derrek picked up his sandwich and took a bite, enjoying his well-earned meal before gracing Discord with a response. ¡°I only showed one card, old man. I''ve got senses you can''t even conceive of.¡± His eyes slyly slid to the crimson-clad calcium-cruncher and he wiped crumbs from his chin. ¡°Not an insult, just a fact.¡±

    Discord stared at him for a moment, then broke out in a greasy, yellow-toothed grin, snatching up his hot dog and tossing it whole down his gullet, not chewing at all. ¡°Careful now, people might think you''re getting arrogant.¡± He leaned in, lowering his voice. ¡°That''s what they call you when you can''t back it up.¡± He winked again and chomped into another piece of chicken.

    Before Derrek could quip back, there was a clatter straight ahead from them and he saw three figures sitting across the table: Kurts¡¯ sons, Clyde and Elliot, and Raph with his riot of red hair. Elliot already had his mouth full of a bite from his massive sandwich, Clyde rolling up a loose slice of bologna and stuffing it into his own mouth whole. Raph was the first one to acknowledge them, cracking a grin at Derrek.

    ¡°That was nothing short of incredible, Shawn! If I hadn''t seen it myself, I¡¯d label these two as liars.¡± He nodded to the brothers, who were scarfing down their food like hungry wolves, then pointed his smile at Discord, who was doing much the same, and offered his hand. ¡°You must be the famous truck whisperer. Raphael Sulivan, but everyone calls me Raph.¡±

    Discord burped and grabbed the hand with his greasy fingers, giving it a firm shake. ¡°Donatello Castello, but everyone calls me Donkey.¡± He winked as Raph wiped his hand on his pants. ¡°My pa was partial to sculptors rather than painters.¡±

    Raph snickered and dipped a raw piece of broccoli into a dollop of ranch dressing on his plate. ¡°And my mama always fancied herself a painter, but between you and me all her work was derivative of Dali. Wouldn''t be so bad if she had any talent behind it.¡± He chomped off the head of the broccoli then looked up at the sky, grinning with bits of green in his teeth. ¡°Sorry mom, you''re the one who sent me to art school.¡±

    Derrek couldn''t help but think that broccoli and ranch may very well be the last thing Raph would ever eat. Sundown wasn''t for a few more hours, if he had the time zone right, but dinner wasn''t a guarantee. For all he knew, maybe they worked up their appetite by slaughtering dissenters. He glanced over at the brothers, and a sad chill ran through his heart at the realization they might end up killing each other. He might make them kill their father, for that matter, or he them. And with nothing more on their stomachs than meat and cheese. Except Elliot, he¡¯d at least have some bread in the mix. Why isn''t Clyde eating bread? Low-carb diet? A gluten allergy? Kurt has a shellfish allergy, just like me. Just like me.

    Discord snickered, snapping Derrek out of his spiraling thoughts, sporting a yellow-toothed grin behind his filthy beard. ¡°I talk to my dead so-and-sos too. Only ever a problem when my pa starts talkin¡¯ back, though that''s usually only after bottle four.¡± He cackled and slapped the table, everones¡¯ plates jumping a good inch in the air, a cup of soda spilling into Clydes¡¯ lap.

    ¡°The hell, man?¡± Clyde jumped up from the table, pulling a rag from his back pocket and dabbing the wet spot on his jeans. His brother took a break from eating and snickered, cracking a grin and showing a fraction of that facial magic their father could accomplish, a half-lit lamp uncovered.

    ¡°I thought you were done pissing yourself! Or is that left over from when Brutus came at us?¡± he slickered again and took another bite from his sandwich.

    ¡°Aw, stuff it, El, like your bladder didn''t feel loose with that big fucker coming down on us, even dad looked like he let out a squirt or two!¡± Clyde stopped trying to dry his pants, instead wiping up the spill from the table, giving Derrek a sideways smirk. ¡°But not you, huh? Dry as a desert I''m sure, even if you didn''t come out clean. Nerves of steel!¡±

    A round of laughter passed around the table, and Derrek had his part too. It wasn''t the first time he had laughed as the butt of the joke. Always best to add to it. ¡°I was just lucky to have pissed before going out there, I was scared shitless the whole time.¡± He pretended to think for a moment, then looked down at his shoes meaningfully. ¡°Or maybe I was scared shitful.¡±

    More laughter, Discord giving him an approving pat on the back. It wasn''t so bad, being Shawn Bates, in fact it was a lot like being Derrek Snowe a year ago. He didn''t have to worry about office politics. He didn''t have to keep reminding himself to delegate tasks so he could handle his actual responsibilities. He didn''t have to be at the top of the chain of command, or see that look in every one of his employees'' eyes that they knew every interaction they had with him could very well decide their fate, either through promotion or termination. He could just get his hands dirty and be useful. The moment was so real, so genuine and human he almost forgot what he was here to do. Almost.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    There was a pitiful rumble from down the driveway, growing louder and more strained as it made its slow approach. The old Ford finally came into view, shaking back and forth and rattling, wheezing and whining, roaring and rumbling, black smoke billowing from the tailpipe and white smoke whisping from under the hood. It unsteadily came to a stop, the brakes squealing in protest, a loud clunk echoing from the engine as it came to rest. The driver''s door opened and Charlotte stepped out, her face contorted in anger as she slammed the door. The truck shook from the force and rocked back and forth until something audibly gave, the front passenger wheel knuckle collapsing completely, half of the front of the truck coming crashing down as the wheel bounced away, the bolts still attached. The shock was enough for the front driver''s wheel to follow suit, the truck hunched like a cat ready to pounce.

    Charlotte had been facing away from the wreckage and slowly turned to assess it, her angry snarl never fading. If anything, it grew deeper as she started marching toward the lunch crowd.

    ¡°Where the fuck is Donkey?¡± she hollered, casting about looking for him. Derrek closed his eyes and tried to pretend he didn''t notice Discord standing up from the bench, hitching up his belt and sauntering toward her. Derrek shook his head and followed, assuming Discord planned on using him as a prop.

    ¡°Right about where I''m standin¡¯.¡± Discord kept one hand at his belt and picked his teeth with a fingernail of the other. ¡°How can I help you?¡±

    Charlotte fixed her eyes on him, her scowl only deepening further as she tramped toward him. She stopped at arms length, looking down her nose at him, being a good half-head taller than Discord in his disguise. ¡°What did you do to the truck?¡± She bit off each word angrily, a vein popping out from her forehead.

    Discord examined the scrapings on his fingernail then flicked it away. ¡°I made it start.¡±

    Charlottes¡¯ eye twitched and Derrek noticed a crowd forming around them. He saw Bert, Cassie, Ida, Lisa, everyone he had worked with and maybe two dozen others he hadn''t met. It very well could have been everyone in the commune. Adam was there too, watching the scene intently, his arms clasped behind his back. Charlotte took a deliberate step closer. ¡°What did you do to make it start?¡± Every word was strained, her rage limiting her to single-syllable words.

    Discord did something between a burp and a cough and spat out a brown glob of phlegm in the same direction as the scrapings. ¡°Quite a bit.¡±

    Charlotte closed her eyes tight, crows feet spreading from the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and turned to the crowd, her fury slightly abated. ¡°Has he done anything but excrete since he got here? Please don''t tell me he fixed anything else.¡±

    Adam stepped forward, and any trace of anger disappeared from Charlotte''s face, her tense body relaxing and her shoulders drooping. He faced her, but his eyes were locked on Discord. ¡°As far as I''m aware, he hasn¡¯t done a thing but lounge, eat and drink since Clem brought him to me. Even when we conversed all he could talk about was how he had Shawn Bates under his thumb, how he was a ¡®golden goose,¡¯ earning them money for Donkey to waste.¡± His head turned to match his eyes, staring Discord down. ¡°Meanwhile his erstwhile companion has been breaking his back on our behalf.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyebrows shot up and she looked at Derrek suspiciously. ¡°Really? The punk turned out to be of some use?¡±

    Kurt stepped forward, grunting and hocking a brown glob into the grass, wearing his serious face. ¡°Did everything you told him to and more. Been nothing but helpful.¡± He broke out in a half-grin, showcasing that sorcery again, almost dragging a smirk out of Derrek as Kurt waved a finger at him. ¡°This crazy punk got Brutus to the other pasture in three minutes flat. Fucking rode him! Never seen anything like it.¡± He sidled up to Derrek, draping a friendly arm over his shoulder. ¡°This punk is something special, that''s for sure.¡±

    Adams¡¯ ears perked up and his eyes went wide, showing the whole of his iris. ¡°Well now, Kurt, you seem almost as if you''re ready to vouch for him. Or am I being presumptuous?¡± Charlotte looked at Derrek, dumbfounded, not saying a word, just shaking her head and blinking.

    Kurt planted his hand on Derrek''s shoulder and shook him enthusiastically. ¡°No presumption here, I¡¯ll vouch for him any day of the week. My boys too. Ain''t that right, boys?¡±

    Clyde and Elliot both had their mouths full with the remnants of their lunch, but they had clearly been paying attention. Clyde was the first to speak, having taken smaller bites. ¡°That''s right, Shawn¡¯s the real deal.¡± Elliot just nodded, chewing for a bit longer.

    ¡°I¡¯ll vouch for him too.¡± Ida stepped forward from the crowd, tugging Cassie along, who, as usual, didn''t seem to know what was going on. ¡°And her. That punk put us all to shame, he worked so hard. Wasn''t even out of breath after moving three tons of feed.¡± Her steely gaze locked on Bert, who was off to the side scratching under his flannel hat. ¡°You''re vouching for him too, Bert.¡±

    At the sound of his name, Bert snatched his hand from under his hat so fast he nearly tore it off. His eyes shifted back and forth, then fixed on Derrek. He broke out in a grin and gave a double thumbs-up. ¡°Damn right, I am. I was just about to say so.¡±

    Ida snorted, her lip curling into something an optimist might call a smile. ¡°I''m sure you were.¡±

    ¡°Yo!¡± Raph stepped forward, grinning with Lisa by his side. ¡°Us too. He¡¯s got a steady hand and balls of steel, that''s good enough for me.¡±

    Lisa nodded and smirked. ¡°He¡¯s a good kid, I wouldn''t mind keeping him around.¡±

    ¡°Hold on!¡± There was a commotion, and Clem shoved his way past a small group, stumbling forward, brushing dust out of his beard as he righted himself. ¡°I wanna vouch too!¡± He shuffled over to Derrek and held out his hand. ¡°I''m Clem, by the way. I know we weren''t properly introduced earlier, but you seem alright.¡±

    Derrek took the hand, shocked, unable to respond. Almost every single person he had met was standing up for him. He hadn''t even spoken to Clem, yet he''d gone out of his way to speak up for him. It was a touching gesture, but it wasn''t for Derrek; it was for Shawn. These people trusted him, if he understood what was happening, they trusted him enough to invite him into their commune. It felt unreal. He was almost relieved when Adam started laughing, at least Clem let go of his hand to focus on his leader.

    Adam had a high kind of titter that chirped from his clenched smile, that gold tooth showing full, his eyes still wide and fervent, deranged even. He slapped his hands together, a sharp clap echoing over the silent crowd, commanding their attention. ¡°My oh my! I''ve seen doubles, I''ve seen triples, even a quadruple, but a niner?¡± He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, looking to Raph. ¡°What''s that one called?¡±

    Raph didn''t hesitate for a second. ¡°Nonuple.¡±

    Adam clapped again. ¡°A nonuple! A perfectly unique word for perfectly unique camaraderie!¡± He stabbed a finger at Derrek across the space. ¡°I can''t but agree with Kurts¡¯ assessment, Shawn Bates; you are something special!¡± He plodded toward Derrek, each step deliberate, his arms swaying loose at his sides. ¡°You''ve proven your mettle, but your companion has proved lacking. I believe you have a choice to make, Shawn Bates.¡± He stopped at arms length from Derrek, holding his hands out flat to his sides, like an unbalanced set of scales. ¡°You can leave with this leach, go on about your days drifting and working for scraps until he gets tired of having you around.¡± He shifted the scale in the other direction, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡°Or cut the rotten fruit free, and join us. Live here and make a real difference, earn your daily bread and help your fellow man.¡± His arms went slack again, and his face contorted into that flash of angular rage he had shown before. ¡°There''s just one thing you have to do first.¡±

    This is it, the ultimatum.

    Adam gave the barest of nods, and two men Derrek hadn''t met grabbed Discord by the arms, forcing him to his knees as he grunted and coughed in faux-weak resistance. One of the men grabbed Discord by the hair and wrenched his head back, forcing him to look up at Adam, who glared down his nose at his captive. ¡°We have a rule, one we''ve followed for as long as we''ve lived here. To be welcomed into our family is to be saved.¡± He sprung at Discord and clamped a hand around his neck, staring into his eyes with furious intensity. To his credit, Discord was giving a very convincing performance, seeming as terrified as anyone else in his position might be. ¡°And the only way to save something is to give something else up.¡± Adams¡¯ eyes snapped to Derrek, that snarl becoming more of a deranged smile. ¡°Are you ready to be saved, Shawn Bates?¡±

    Time slowed to a crawl, almost stopping entirely. The entire mission hinged on this moment. Derrek knew what he had to do, but that didn''t make it any easier. He took a deep breath and let it out slow, feeling the lightest tremor in his lungs. He stepped forward and time resumed its normal flow, the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears as he closed the distance, looking down at Discord. Donkey. He¡¯s not Discord, and you aren''t Derrek. You are Shawn Bates. The marine wannabe with anger issues. All you have to do is turn off your brain, and¡­

    ¡°You motherfucker!¡± Shawn snarled as his right hook crunched into Donkeys¡¯ face, his cheek and nose breaking in one blow, unleashing a torrent of blood. ¡°Golden goose?¡± His other fist crashed into Donkeys¡¯ forehead, a bruised goose egg already forming. ¡°Golden fucking goose!?¡± Another right hook, the skin of his knuckles splitting as something gave beneath them. Shawn wasn''t too sure; his vision was a narrow dot and his mind was nothing but noise, but it seemed they had let Donkey go, and Shawn was on top of him. There was nothing he could do but punch, and beat, and pummel, growling and spitting like an animal. Then there was a hand at his shoulder, and all the rage drained out of him, the world opening up around him. He turned to find Adam at the other end of the arm, a genuine, joyful smile etched on his face.

    ¡°Welcome home, Shawn Bates!¡± Adam pulled Shawn to his feet and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tightly, warmth emanating as everyone else broke out in celebration. Hooting and hollering filled the air as everyone rushed inward, engulfing Shawn in a massive group hug. All he could see was a sea of smiling faces and hands reaching out to touch him. They accepted him, and now they embraced him, and Shawn couldn''t keep the smile from his face. Adam raised his hand, and they all shuffled back, reforming that gap with nothing but Shawn, Adam, and Donkey. Shawn looked at Donkey, sprawled on the ground with his face a blood mess, and he realized what had given earlier. Donkeys¡¯ left eye was swollen shut, his eye socket probably broken, a clear fluid leaking from the purple eyelids leaving a track on his bloody cheek. The other eye was still intact, and staring up at Shawn, his battered mouth curled into the ghost of a grin.

    Derrek came to with a jolt, his hands sore and shaking. He looked down at them. The skin of his right knuckles were split and bleeding and they were both splattered with Discords¡¯ blood, but they were otherwise intact. They were still trembling, though. His hands had been steady as a surgeons since the Schadenfreude, but not now. He wasn''t entirely sure what had happened, but based on the look on Adams¡¯ face, he¡¯d passed whatever test this was.

    ¡°You made the right choice, Shawn Bates. Your life starts today.¡± He snapped his fingers, and the same two men grabbed Discord by the shoulders, dragging him limply toward the barn, every set of eyes locked on them. Cassie stepped forward first, following the drag tracks. Ida was next, and Derrek thought she was going to stop Cassie, but she just fell in with her, heading to the barn. Like a dam burst, everyone else followed suit, silent save for their footfalls as Derrek and Adam lingered. Adam was showing that gold tooth, his hands on Derrek''s shoulders. ¡°Come now, it''s time to finish what you started.¡±

    Derrek glanced behind him at the abandoned lunch table, piles of food still waiting to be eaten. It was only a bit past noon, nowhere near sundown. Discord had been very specific about sundown, and he hadn''t been lying about it. He realized he¡¯d been staring at the table for too long. All he could do was say the first thing to come to his mind ¡°Won''t the food get cold?¡±

    Adam laughed a high laugh and slapped Derrek''s shoulders. ¡°It''ll be there when we¡¯re done, this won''t take long.¡± He released Derrek and spun on his heels, marching toward the barn. He called over his shoulder, not breaking stride. ¡°I believe in you, Shawn, show us all how much you believe in yourself.¡± He looked forward, and Derrek thought about running away. If he just turned and left, Discord would take care of it. He¡¯d give Derrek an endless amount of shit about it, but at least his hands would still be clean.

    They aren''t clean. He had to remind himself of those six lives. Six lives he had to take so they wouldn''t take any more. This was the right thing to do. He took one last glance at the lunch table, then followed Adam toward the barn. It seemed they¡¯d all had their last meals after all.

 Havok

    The barn was a horror unto itself. Odd symbols were drawn on the walls and structural poles with what Derrek had no doubt was blood. Hooks hung from the rafters on rusty chains, each one stained brown with strands of dry meat stuck to more than a few of them. The walls were adorned with countless rusted tools and weapons; machetes and pickaxes, hatchets and saws, crowbars and trowels. There was an old scythe mounted high on the left wall that caught his eye, reminding him of his fight with Boyd the Reaper. In the center of it all was the altar Discord had mentioned. It was made of solid gray stone with a low kneeling bench in front of it, red carvings intricately etched across its surface, depicting worshipers bowing to a blazing sun, topped with a large brass bowl and a burning stick of incense in a holder on each side of a raised shelf. On that shelf, perfectly between the incense, was a human skull, that same style of red carvings covering its surface, even the teeth.

    The cultists gathered around the altar, spreading out in an even pattern so everyone had a clear view. Adam approached the altar and faced the crowd as Discord was thrown at his feet. Discord, keeping up his act admirably, coughed and spit out blood, groaning as he pretended to try to rise to his feet. He got as far as a pushup before Adam planted his boot on his back and forced him back to prone.

    ¡°Stay down until you are brought up.¡± Adam had that hard-edged expression, but with a wide grin, his gold tooth twinkling in the low light that filtered through the rafters. He stomped hard on Discord¡¯s back, eliciting a spinal crunch and a pained wheeze from the trickster. That grin pointed at Derrek as he ground his heel into his captives¡¯ back. ¡°Step forth, Shawn Bates. Destroy the remnants of your old life and start anew.¡± His eyes sparked with fervor, his tongue slowly sliding across his teeth. ¡°It''s your time to shine.¡±

    Derrek swallowed hard and stepped forward, every eye on him. He had no idea what to say if he was supposed to say anything, but Adam didn''t have much use for the inputs of others. He nodded again and lifted his boot, allowing those two lackeys to grab Discord by the shoulders again, manhandling him to kneel at the altar, his head lolling over the bowl while they held his arms straight out. Adam pulled something from his pocket and offered it to Derrek. It was a folding buck knife, open and held with the handle toward him.

    It was pretty obvious what he was meant to do, and lucky for him it was all according to plan. It would have been nice if Adam would do it himself, but it wasn''t like he could actually kill Discord. All he had to do was spill the immortal blood, and it would be out of his hands. He took the knife and examined the blade; razor sharp and sharpened at both sides of the tip. He sensed movement and saw Adam was now touring the space, looking at the cultists.

    ¡°Friends! Brothers! Sisters! My dear family! Today we welcome a new lamb into our fold! A man is only as good as the company he keeps, and I''m proud to say we¡¯re all better off with Shawn Bates in our lives.¡± Adam stopped and stabbed a finger at Derrek. Quite unnecessarily, he thought, it wasn''t like there could be any more attention on him. ¡°He has gone above and beyond on our behalf, and I say it''s only fair we do the same for him.¡± He placed a hand on Derrek''s back and gave him the gentlest of nudges forward, setting him on a slow plod toward the kneeling Discord. Adam resumed his meandering, his wandering speech dictating Derrek''s pace.

    ¡°I believe in being good to those who are good to you, and there is one who was very good to us. Our benefactor, who so graciously brought many of you to me in your time of need. The one who gave us what we craved so much: purpose.¡± The cultists all nodded mournfully, as if at a eulogy. He must be talking about the blood god, why is he talking in the past tense? Adam slammed his fist against his chest with a hollow thump, his upper lip stiff and his eyes shining as if about to spill over with tears. ¡°We gave our blood, our toil, our lives, and we were rewarded. We were rewarded dearly.¡±

    Derrek was standing over Discord now, the two cultists holding his arms staring at Derrek with casual expressions, completely at ease, like butchers simply carrying out their work. One of them grabbed Discord by the hair, pulling it back so he was eye-level with the skull, his throat positioned right over the bowl. ¡°We were given strength!¡± A cheer rang out. ¡°Power!¡± A louder clamor, fists pumped in the air. ¡°We were the arbiters of our own fate! The ones who held the knife!¡± The barn erupted into rapturous applause, everyone cheering at the top of their lungs as the knife grew heavier in Derrek''s hand. The uproar steadily died down, and Adam took on a somber tone. ¡°But, sorry to say, our benefactor is with us no more.¡±

    What?

    Adam sucked in a deep breath through his nose, letting it out in a long sigh. ¡°I don''t know if we were found lacking, or if it was our benefactor who failed us. I will never know.¡±

    Does this mean they don''t have a connection to the blood god anymore? If not, then why do they still have the altar? Will the plan still work? Derrek shook off his thoughts. The worst that could happen is that they don''t start killing each other, and if that were the case and they had to force a confrontation, he could at least rely on Discord to pull his weight in the fight. If Discord isn''t breaking character, then neither will I. He stepped forward and put the blade to Discords throat, lightly pressing where his neck and jaw bone met.

    The smile on Adams¡¯ face was an audible thing, carrying over in every word. ¡°But we are not forsaken. Not us. We are the lucky few, for in our darkest hour we were blessed by the blazing sun!¡± There was another wave of approval from the crowd, a strange low hum breaking through under the noise. Discord twitched ever so slightly, his head tilting a fraction of a degree. ¡°We were saved yet again by yet another glorious benefactor! One who promised to see all we despise burned at our feet! The gluttons! The pigs! The fools!¡± The cultists pumped their fists and cheered at every listed enemy, starting a kind of chant, Derrek''s heart beating in time with it, the grip of the knife pressing hard into his palm. ¡°Give your tribute, Shawn Bates! Join us in the radiant light of Ragnarok!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    It was Discords¡¯ voice. Not the indecipherable accent of Donkey, his real voice. It was said in a normal speaking voice, barely audible over the uproarious cultists, and Derrek didn''t realize he had said a thing until after the blade dragged across Discords¡¯ neck, his throat opening up in a crimson torrent, hot blood covering Derrek''s hand as he gagged and sputtered, the bowl filling quickly. Derrek staggered back, the blood-drenched knife sticky in his hand, and felt hands at his sounders.

    ¡°Pay attention, now.¡± Adam was uncomfortably close, his head over Derrek''s shoulder, speaking in a hoarse whisper. ¡°This is the important part.¡±

    The cherries of the incense sticks glowed brighter, the smoke growing thicker and dark red, swirling in an unnatural spiral up to the rafters, gathering at the ceiling. From there, tendrils of smoke reached down, sprawling over Discords skin as they made contact, one stray tendril forming a layer over the blood in the bowl. The embers of the incense burned even brighter and the entire building shook, a deep rumbling coming from the altar.

    Adam was slack-jawed, his face still too close to Derreks¡¯. ¡°What is this?¡± His voice was low, as if he were asking himself. The embers burned brighter and the smoke grew thicker, but the incense never burned down. The smoke gathering in the ceiling came down all at once and engulfed Discord, lifting him into the air in a swirling smoke cocoon. The skull suddenly began to tremble, two orange lights flickering to life in its sockets as its jaw flexed and clattered. All at once it went still, and the jaw moved in a smooth motion, a single guttural word ringing undeniably loud throughout the entire barn, slowly creeping into the ears of all listening.

    ¡°Deceiver.¡±

    Adam scampered back as a stray tendril swirled through the air, taking a circuitous route until it reached Derrek, stopping just short of making contact. The tip of the tendril ran over him in a flash, coming to rest as if it were looking him in the eye, and he was helpless as it jabbed forward, touching him ever so gently on the forehead before retreating, disappearing into the cocoon. He sensed a shimmer washing over his body, and there appeared to be a shower of confetti around him. He remembered Discords¡¯ words, ¡°these things always fail at moments of narrative significance,¡± and he knew his disguise was broken. Not knowing what else to do, he turned around to face Adam, feeling his green eye glow as he stared him down.

    ¡°I knew it!¡± Adam had a mad grin stretched across his face, his eyes wide as dinner plates. ¡°I knew you would come for me, Derrek Snowe!¡± at the sound of his name, a murmur ran across the crowd, quickly shifting from startled to murderous. Adam stabbed an accusatory finger at Derrek, fervor burning in his eyes. ¡°I knew you were more than man, and I should have known it was you all along. The Devil always greets with a friendly face, and I knew I would one day be damned by a soul I tried to save! So what will it be, Judas? Are you here to face your justice, or-¡±

    Goddamn it.

    Derrek transferred the knife to his left hand, drew the revolver, and shot Adam in the chest; there was nothing to do but fight, and without Discord he couldn''t afford to hold back. Shocked cries rippled through the barn, shrieks and screams filling the air, and in the confusion Derrek spun around, shooting one of the men who had been holding Discord between the eyes, the beefy man falling limp as the screams redoubled. He took aim at the other holder, but the cultist swatted at him with a meaty palm, catching Derrek''s finger on the trigger as the gun was ripped from his hand, sending a stray shot ripping harmlessly through the ceiling as it skittered across the floor. The cultist swung at him, but he was too slow and Derrek caught him by the wrist, jabbing the knife upward under his ribcage, piercing his heart. He ripped the knife out with a spray of blood and shoved the cultist over, turning to face the crowd, their shock giving way to rage. Adam leaned up as high as he could, clutching his bleeding wound as he screamed at the top of his broken voice.

    ¡°Kill him!¡±

    The front row of cultists stepped forward, pulling knives from their pockets as the rest went for the walls, arming themselves with a variety of tetanus-inducing instruments, the air filled with their outrage. Bert, Clem and Lisa were in the vanguard along with five others, each of their faces twisted with rage as they marched purposely toward Derrek, and he took a low stance, his knife held out as he shuffled back inch by inch. One of the cultists, a round Hispanic man, charged ahead, his knife held out straight, screaming at the top of his lungs. Derrek remembered Jericho doing much the same thing a week earlier, and it was nothing to step to the side and grab the cultist by the wrist, but instead of simply laying him flat, Derrek bent his arm so he slammed onto his own knife as he tripped the cultist and sent him crashing to the floor. The tip of the knife poked through the back of his shirt, blood pooling under him as he struggled to roll over, tugging weakly at the knife in his ribs.

    Three.

    Two more cultists were on him, Lisa and a bald man with acne scars, and he scrambled back, reaching for the throwing knives at his belt, pulling three of the eight in his pouch. He held two of them along with the buck knife in his left hand, sending the third flying at Lisa, catching her in the neck. In a flash, he threw a knife at the bald cultist, and it struck him through the eye, the hilt disappearing into his skull. As he collapsed on the ground, his body jerking and spasming, Lisa fell to her knees, tugging at the knife in her neck, blood bubbling out of her mouth. In one lurch, she ripped it out, staring at Derrek with an empty expression as blood spurted. She fell dead on her face and Derrek scampered away around a pole, trying not to think about how she greeted him with a hug when he offered to help with the fence.

    Two more closed in as he slipped around the pole, his attackers probing back and forth, trying to catch him with a jab of their blades. One grew bold and sprung forth, trusting his knife with all his might into Derrek''s shoulder, only to catch empty air as he jerked to the side. He grabbed the offered arm and slammed it toward the pole, the point of the elbow making contact, bending it around the pole unnaturally as its owner cried in agony, only to be cut short by Derreks¡¯ buck knife slammed up through his jaw into his skull, the blade snapping off as the other cultist came round. This one was tall, his knife held high for a downward stab, plunging it into the wooden floor as Derrek rolled away, kicked the tall cultist behind the knee, and sprung on him, pinning him on his face. He grabbed a handhold around the cultists¡¯ jaw as he cursed and struggled and wrenched with a grunt, breaking his neck, twisting it too far around, a small trickle of blood escaping his twitching lips.

    Seven.

    There was a burning pain in his shoulder and he rolled away on instinct, throwing the last knife in his hand blindly toward the source of the pain. There was a grunt and he saw the blade found purchase in Berts¡¯ thigh, and he snarled as he fell to a knee, glaring hatefully at Derrek. ¡°You fucking liar!¡± He grabbed the knife and ripped it out, a flood of blood erupting from the wound. Bert didn''t seem to notice, his eyes locked on Derrek, and he forced himself to his feet, the blood flow only increasing. ¡°We trusted you! I was gonna have your back, man!¡± He lurched forward, color draining from his face as he swayed. ¡°We could''ve¡­ We¡­¡± He looked down, finally noticing the blood. He stared at it for an agonizing second, then vomited down his shirt. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell backward, the blood finally slowing to a trickle.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    That was lucky; Derrek had caught the femoral artery. Lucky. He wanted to be sick, but Clem and the last vanguard cultist were before him now, both staring at the three corpses at their feet. Clems¡¯ eyes were wide and his lower lip was trembling, his knife trembling shakily in his hand. The other cultist wasn''t much better off, her knife drooping as a sheen of sweat formed on her face. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Clem almost whispered it, staring at Berts¡¯ body, his knees buckling. ¡°What the fuck?¡± He shook his head violently, clasping his hands to his head. ¡°What the fu-¡±

    He was cut off as a knife plunged hilt-deep into chest, sliding between the ribs into his heart. Before he could react, Derrek threw another, stabbing into the other cultists throat. Clem watched as she collapsed, clutching at her neck, choking on her own blood, then his knees failed him and he collapsed on top of Bert, weakly pawing at the floorboards.

    Ten.

    Derrek couldn''t help but stare at the scene for a moment, the turkey sandwich in his stomach roiling in outrage. He managed to pry his eyes away, and his vision filled with light as his head exploded with pain, a loud clang ringing in his ears. He stumbled back groggily, but a strong hand caught him by the collar of his shirt and he was heaved forward, jerked around and shoved into something and two more pairs of hands clamped around his arms, forcing them behind his back. The light filling his eyes faded, and before him was Kurt with a flat shovel in his hands, the rest of the cultists gathering closer, armed to the teeth with mundane implements. Derrek struggled against his captors, who he saw were Kurts¡¯ sons, but his head was still spinning and any fight he had in him was forced out in a long wheeze as Kurt sunk his fist into Derrek''s gut, a trace of his rebellious lunch burning at the back of his throat as his head fell limp, a string of drool dripping from his lip. Kurt grabbed him around the neck and leaned in, his face contorted with betrayed rage, his eyes burning pinpricks behind his craggy sneer.

    ¡°What a damn joke.¡± He dropped the shovel and cuffed Derrek across the face back and forth, his lip splitting, turning his string of drool red. ¡°The big bad billionaire was too coward to face us head on, so he put on a mask and tried to act like one of us.¡± His fist crashed into Derrek''s chest and he felt a rib break, his eyes welling with tears as he struggled to breathe; he didn''t even have enough air to yelp in pain. He gasped in air as Kurt released his neck, coughing and gulping in breath as fingers gripped his hair, wrenching his head back as his fist crunched into Derreks¡¯ cheek. Kurt nodded and his sons let go of Derrek, letting him fall to his knees as he crouched down, looking him in the eye. ¡°Everything Adam said about you is true. I believed him, of course, but it''s different seeing it with my own eyes.¡± He picked up the shovel and stood tall, grinning horribly down at Derrek. ¡°It doesn''t matter how many of our lives you take. We are many, and your ilk are few.¡± The grin stretched further across his face and he pulled the shovel back as if he were swinging at a baseball. ¡°And today will mark the beginning of the end of everything you hold dear. It will all burn in Ragnaroks¡¯ glory!¡±

    Derrek tried to act, but his body wouldn''t move fast enough and the shovel smacked him full across the face, his delayed muscles launching him to the side with the momentum, stumbling and spinning until he smashed into the wall. His head cracked against the boards and he slowly slid down to sitting, his breathing labored as the cultists slowly crept forth, more than a dozen left, all with sadistic smiles on their faces. He only had three throwing knives left, nowhere near enough to fight that many, even if he had the strength for it. He tried stubbornly to push himself up, but his hands were slick with blood and he fell back, his head banging into the wall again.

    Is this really it? I survived a Reaper, a cave monster, Bernmore and the poachers, and I¡¯m going to be torn apart by a doomsday cult? Derrek realized, save for the cave monster, he¡¯d had help for all of those fights. Discord was right; he was getting arrogant. What the hell made him think he could take on an entire commune?

    There was a rattle above his head, and something long fell into his lap. It was the scythe he had seen earlier. The curved wooden shaft was splintered and splitting along every grain, the curved head rusted and dull. It was surprising it hadn''t broken on impact with his lap, as fragile as it looked, but it was a weapon nonetheless, and Derrek gripped it tight, using it for leverage to push himself to his feet. He stretched his neck from one side to the other, glaring blearily at the cultists, bending his knees, feeling the rough wood cut into his hands. Something wasn''t right. He blinked a few times and his vision cleared a bit, confirming his suspicion; the cultists had stopped their advance, their grins replaced with slack jaws. He realized his hands were burning hot, and saw they were glowing the same shade of green as his eye.

    Tendrils of green energy spread across the scythe, filling the cracked wood like a glowing delta, the wood falling away to reveal a smooth shaft just under the surface. The rust of the blade flaked away as if it were simple dirt under a stream of water, giving way to a half-crescent of dark steel, bright green engravings glowing along the blade, nothing but green smears in Derreks¡¯ blurry vision. The warmth in his hands began to spread up his arms, through his chest, down his spine and across his scalp, stretching down to the tips of his toes, filling him to the brim with energy. He hadn''t felt this strong since Boyd had given him the Reapers¡¯ touch. The cultists took a wary step back, and Derrek crouched low, the scythe trailing behind him as he sprung forth, charging straight at Kurt.

    The scythe was an extension of his own body, and it sliced effortlessly through Kurts'' knees, sending him spinning through the air until the blade pecked though his back midair, pinning him to the floor. There was a sucking sound as Derrek ripped out the blade, twirling and spinning the scythe around him, snatching a cultists¡¯ hand away in a flash of metal, divorcing his head from his shoulders in another blur. He thought Charlotte was among them, but he couldn''t be sure. He was a whirlwind, blood and pieces of people flying as he effortlessly danced around them. He carved a circle around him the length of the haft of his scythe, a circle in which the world belonged to him, and any who dared to cross it would face the same fate as fruit in a blender.

    Sixteen.

    He forced Kurts¡¯ sons into a corner along with a black man with dreadlocks, mentally blocking out the terror on their faces as he cut them all down with a single blinding strike, slicing all three men through the midsections. In the same instant, the scythe slashed the other way, catching the brothers in the neck, though the black cultist was slightly shorter and was sliced at the jawline. They swayed for a moment, then fell apart, their legs, torsos, and heads all tumbling in different directions. Derrek felt like someone had tackled him, and there was a high-pitched shriek as a knife dug into his shoulder, thin legs wrapping tight around his waist. He swayed and jerked, trying to shake the cultist off, but she was locked tight onto him, ripping the knife out and stabbing randomly at his chest. He charged back-first into a pole and her grip slackened, allowing him to grab her by the hair and flip her off of him, slamming her flat on her back. He raised the blade high and only noticed as it split her chest open that it was Cassie, her eyes still distant, even as she died.

    Twenty.

    There was a scream, and Derrek saw Ida, her hands covering her mouth, tears pouring down her cheeks, but she didn''t approach, so he turned his attention to the other cultists. Raph, Squeaky, and five others were huddled together, their weapons held out shakily, each of them terrified and trembling. Raph swallowed hard, his Adam''s apple bobbing as he stuttered. ¡°N-n-now hold on j-just a second!¡± He held up his crowbar defensively as Derrek took a step forward. ¡°L-let¡¯s t-t-talk ab-bout this!¡± He took a cautious step toward Derrek then another, holding a hand flat so the other cultists stayed back. He probably didn''t have to signal them, they showed no sign of advancing. ¡°W-we can just¡­ forget about all t-this. You c-c-can just leave us be, we w-won''t be any t-trouble. Y-you can just walk out that door and-¡± When Raph was close enough, he swung his crowbar at Derreks¡¯ head, stumbling off balance as Derrek jerked back, the steel bar swinging past the tip of his nose. The scythe slashed upward, and Raph was cut diagonally across his chest, his shoulders and one arm falling opposite to the rest of his body.

    All at once, the remaining cultists rushed him, growling and snarling madly as their feet thundered across the boards. Derrek danced around their weapons, as hard to touch as the flickering flame, his scythe trailing him like his shadow, stealing away limbs and innards, blades snapping as he struck them, blood splattering around him in intricate patterns. With one final strike, Squeakys¡¯ head was separated from her shoulders, strands of her long blue hair fluttering to the ground, cut neck length, just like the rest of her. Silence rang through the barn, and Derrek took a breath.

    Twenty-seven.

    A gunshot ripped through the silence, and Derrek jerked to the side, feeling the wind of the bullet past his cheek. It was Ida, on her knees over Cassies¡¯ body, Derreks¡¯ gun shaking in her hands. Tears streamed down her face as she screamed, pulling the trigger again. It was nothing to deflect the bullet with his scythe; he spent more time practicing that than anything else, knowing a stray bullet could be the end of him just as much as anyone else. Another gunshot, and another swipe of the blade, the bullets flying harmlessly through the walls. She pulled the trigger over and over, the gun click-click-clicking as the empty cylinder spun, listlessly watching Derrek approach her. He looked down at her now, and the gun drooped, her tear-stricken face hardening as she glared up at him. She spat at him, leaving a glob of spit on his shirt. ¡°Damn you to hell.¡±

    Derrek wanted to apologize, but it would have been less than worthless, nothing but selfish. It took everything he had to stay silent. He had a feeling Ida and Cassie were close, closer than just friends, and this display cemented it in his mind. He remembered what Ida had said, that her father had disowned her over her sexuality, for simply being who she was, and here Derrek was, slaughtering her lover and found family. And why? Because Discord had told him to. Because Discord said they were bad people and had to be stopped. It didn''t matter if it was true, he had still killed them all for being who they are. Every fiber of his being told him to stop, to have mercy, but he knew he couldn''t. That would have been even worse. He closed his eyes and raised the scythe, looking away as Idas¡¯ headless body fell across Cassie.

    There was another silence, a longer, more complete silence, only broken by a series of hacking coughs. Derrek opened his eyes, and saw Adam laying prone, slowly dragging himself toward the door, a streaking track of blood following him like a snail trail. He grunted and groaned, pulling himself elbow over elbow as Derrek plodded over to him, his footsteps echoing in the silent barn. ¡°You know something?¡± Adam wheezed, ¡°aside from the hole in my chest and my broken heart from my stolen family, do you know what I feel most?¡± He chuckled, pausing in his crawl to cough up blood. ¡°Vindication.¡± He coughed up more blood, lying limp on the floor, his mouth still curled into a smirk, one eye gazing up at Derrek. ¡°I was right. We were all right to stand against you. You are the Devil incarnate, and we are but the first martyrs. You''ll see! You''ll find us banging down your door! Smashing the windows of your twinkling towers! You¡¯ll-¡±

    Derrek grabbed a handful of Adams¡¯ hair and pulled his head back, slipping the scythes¡¯ blade between the ground and his mouth, pushing his head down so the edge went between Adams¡¯ teeth, his grin forced wider as the corners of his mouth were cut through. Derrek pulled upward on the haft, cutting through flesh until the blade pressed against the hinge of his jaw, planting a boot between his shoulder blades.

    ¡°You talk too much.¡±

    Derrek jerked the scythe upward, slicing off Adams¡¯ head at the jaw, the bottom half and tongue twitching as the top half rolled away. He stumbled back, casting about for any survivors, and found nothing but corpses, aside from the still-swirling smoke cocoon. His body was suddenly weak and the scythe fell from his limp fingers as he doubled over, his undigested lunch mixing with a puddle of blood as he wretched and gagged for the second time that day. Once the gagging abated, he stumbled toward the nearest pole, putting his back to it and sliding down to sitting, breathing heavily as his racing heart steadily slowed.

    Twenty-nine.

    He had killed twenty-nine people. His stomach cramped again, but there was nothing left to heave up, his broken ribs screaming in protest. He panted, leaning his head back against the pole, all his wounds making themselves known, from the cuts on his shoulder to the lumps on his head. Cautiously, he pulled up his shirt, examining his bruised ribs, already black and blue. Keeping his shirt up with one hand, he gently placed the palm of his other on the bruise, closing his eyes and focusing. After a few seconds, a warmth radiated from his hand, and he could see a light behind his eyelids, growing in intensity. He held it for several seconds, feeling the pain in his side fade as the bones knitted back together, and when the light faded, the bruise was much smaller. Not healed, but not broken anymore. He had seen Discord pull that trick before, but this was the first time he¡¯d managed it. It would have been nice to heal his shoulder, but he knew he didn''t have the strength for it. That exertion of energy had already drained what little he had left in him.

    He leaned back and looked lazily at the altar, the incense still burning as bright as the skulls¡¯ eyes. If he destroyed the altar, would it free Discord? Do I even want to free him? He shook his head, regardless of how this went, Discord was still his ride home. He would have to figure out how to get him down soon, and destroying the altar was the only idea he had. He glared at the scythes¡¯ blood-soaked blade. It was a deplorable thing, a weapon for a monster, and assessing the carnage, it seemed it had found its way into a monsters¡¯ hands. He remembered the day he met Discord, being put on the spot to pick a ¡®warrior name¡¯ for himself.

    ¡°Havok.¡± He whispered it to himself. He never meant it to be, but it was an apt name; havoc was exactly what he had wreaked today. Changing a letter at the end couldn''t diminish the truth of it. He was a monster, one that had named itself. He closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts from his mind. The Reapers¡¯ touch made it easy, as simple as flicking a switch, but images of the fight still flashed behind his eyes as he rested. He would have to get up soon; he couldn''t break the altar from here, but what difference would a few minutes make?

    Discord could wait for Derrek to catch his breath.

 The beginning of the end

    This was bad. This was very <i>very </i>bad. Discord stood in a dark, empty space, the only light coming from the kneeling figure before him, its skin glowing a dim orange. Chains held the figure, disappearing into infinity, jingling and creaking as they slowly swayed. The figure looked up, its face smooth and featureless, but still somehow smug.

    ¡°It has been a long time, drifter.¡± The words were far away, impossibly old, unknowable and familiar. ¡°I wondered when you would seek me out.¡±

    ¡°You have got to be fucking kidding me.¡± Discord shook his head, letting out an exasperated breath. ¡°I can''t believe you''re still at it after all these years. Don''t you ever give up?¡±

    The figure moved impossibly fast and stood face to face with him now, the chains rippling behind him like waves. ¡°I do not. I am the end of all. No mere threat, but an inevitability. You could have let your world burn, allowed it to be rendered into oblivion, but your insolence has only fueled my hatred.¡± It glowed brighter, impossibly bright, its shackles burning red hot as Discord felt his skin burn. ¡°I would have simply consumed them, but now I will ensnare the soul of every creature to this plane. I will keep them trapped on the world you pushed me to ruin.¡± It ignited, flames shooting into the endless oblivion behind it, growing and growing, and Discord finally knew where he was.

    The heat of the Suns¡¯ surface scorched his skin, his healing only just keeping up as he was pulled closer, plummeting through the burning layers of gas until he reached the core. It was hollow inside, containing the same figure, but impossibly large, even curled into a ball, suspended inside. It looked at Discord, its smooth face alone thousands of miles tall, coming closer. Closer. <i>Closer.</i> Discord felt his skin char and blacken, vaporizing in the heat, focusing everything on keeping his eyes and tongue intact.

    ¡°You will burn, drifter.¡± The words rumbled like a declaration from God, ringing just as loud if not louder. ¡°You will burn, and Ragnarok will finally come to pass.¡±

    There was a sound like splitting stone, and Discord was suddenly falling, his body reduced to little more than scorched bones, breaking into several pieces as he came crashing down onto the barn floor. Strands of muscle and blood vessels spread across his desiccated form, pulling the bones back into shape as his body regrew, his coat reappearing thread by thread, covering him from the neck down. When he was fully reformed, he slipped on a shirt, jeans, and his backup boots before springing to his feet, stretching his fresh muscles. They always needed to be broken in after reforming like that, far too stiff. At least he¡¯d managed to keep his tongue intact, it was always a week minimum for anything to taste right after a new tongue.

    He realized the barn was littered with corpses. Corpses in very rough condition. <i>Weird, I don''t remember doing this.</i> He looked around dumbly and found Derrek leaning against a pole near the altar, breathing hard and bleeding from his shoulder, soaked to the wrists and splattered everywhere else with blood. It seemed he had been hit with a shovel, a split on his forehead trickling blood down the side of his face as he glared at Discord.

    ¡°Where the <i>fuck</i> were you?¡± He didn''t shout it, he didn''t even say it loudly; it was clear he didn''t have the energy for it. Discords¡¯ eyes slid to the altar and went wide at the sight of the scythe stuck through it, splitting the whole thing in twain, carved skull included. He looked at the corpses anew, and saw how the fight had gone, the carnage telling a story that only he and Derrek could understand. He took in a long breath and let it out slow.

    ¡°I was on the sun, but you look like you''ve been through Hell.¡± He stepped forward, reaching for Derreks¡¯ wounded shoulder, only for him to jerk away, stumbling, almost falling over before Discord caught him. ¡°Come on, Havok, I know you''re pissed, but at least let me patch you up.¡± Derrek grimaced, but he stopped fighting, leaning against the pole and dropping down to sitting as Discord tore at his shirt, revealing the damage to his right shoulder. There were several stab wounds on the front and a single slash on the back, none deep enough to do any real damage. ¡°You''re lucky you''ve got strong bones, any one of these could''ve gotten your lung if you were still human. Might have a nick or two on the ribs, but they look like they''re intact.¡±

    Derrek weakly raised a hand and patted at his ribs on the opposite side. ¡°I broke at least one, I took care of it though.¡±

    Discords¡¯ eyes went wide, though there was no pride in Derreks¡¯ voice. ¡°No kidding?¡± Derrek shook his head, not saying anything else. ¡°Damn man, that''s probably the most impressive thing I''ve seen from you yet. I didn''t even teach that to you.¡± Derrek didn''t respond, so Discord kept talking as he laid his glowing hands on the wounds. ¡°You''ve really been on the ball today, excellent subterfuge, exceptional combat work, and you <i>really</i> beat the shit out of me! I¡¯d give you a solid A-plus if I gave grades on these things. I¡¯d even say-¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    Discord was silent for a moment, then slid his eyes up to Derreks¡¯. ¡°Look, I didn''t have much control over what went down. I was on the fucking sun! Don''t you want to know what that was about?¡±

    Derrek glared at Discord, not showing any sign of relief as his wounds closed over. ¡°I had to kill twenty-nine people, I don''t give a shit where you were.¡±

    Discord winced, feeling the closest thing he¡¯d felt to guilt in years. He pulled his hands away as the wounds faded into scars, looking at Derrek with a serious expression. ¡°I''m sorry. I fucked up.¡±

    Derrek scoffed, rubbing at his fresh scars. ¡°That''s putting it lightly. You said your blood would desecrate the altar and throw them into a murder frenzy. Why didn''t that happen?¡±

    Discord sucked in air through his teeth. He was getting too good at asking the right questions. A tense moment passed before he let the air out in a long sigh. ¡°Because they weren''t a blood cult. Or they were a month ago, but not anymore. It turns out they were something else, something <i>worse.¡±</i> He pressed his hand against the back of Derreks¡¯ shoulder, channeling more of his spiritual energy to spare Derrek the strain. Discord winced as he felt the air pressure change a fraction of a degree, knowing they were out of time. ¡°I really wish I could say more now, but we have bigger fish to fry.¡±

    Derreks¡¯ glare deepened, his white eyebrows furrowing. ¡°You have got to be fucking kidding me. How much more crazy bullshit do you have to pull today?¡±

    Discord pulled his hand away from the healed shoulder, brushing dust from his pants as he stood. ¡°I promise, I¡¯m not pulling anything. But she is.¡± He nodded toward the black robed figure crouching over Adams¡¯ body, her hand laid flat on its back. Derrek startled and scrambled to his feet, staring dumbly as she slowly turned round, her thin face above her mouth obscured by the shadow of her hood. She silently stood, gliding across the floor without even a ripple of cloth, coming to rest a few strides distant from the men. ¡°Hey, Grim.¡±

    She glanced at him, feeling her appraising eyes behind that hood, her voice creeping out cold words tinged with a light British accent. ¡°Hello, Discord.¡± She betrayed no emotion in her slow speech, and likely didn''t feel any either. Her head swiveled to Derrek, who looked as if he¡¯d rather be back out with Brutus. ¡°Hello, Derrek Snowe. I am the Grim Reaper, a name that comes with the title.¡± The corner of her mouth twitched upward a barely-perceivable fraction. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn''t attend your function last night, unfortunately I can only cross into this plane when and where souls are separated from their forms.¡± She sighed, her cold breath steaming in the stale air. ¡°Meanwhile the other Reapers have free passage. You know how it is, being in charge; being held to different standards than your subordinates. Different rules to follow.¡±

    Derrek closed his eyes and shook his head, rubbing at his temples. ¡°I''m sorry,¡± he said after a moment, ¡°I seem to be in shock. Or concussed. Or both¡± He rubbed his eyes then opened them, glancing from Grim to the scythe. ¡°Is this about Boyd? Did I accidentally summon his scythe?¡±

    Grims¡¯ head tilted back slightly, the very tip of her nose peeking from the shadow. ¡°That¡­ is an incredibly astute guess, but no.¡± She faced the altar, holding out her hand. The scythe trembled, rattling in the stone as it vibrated itself free, flying across the space, almost meeting her hand. She lowered her hand and the weapon remained levitating upright. ¡°This is not Boyds¡¯ scythe. It''s yours.¡± Derrek stared at the scythe, confusion written across his face. ¡°When you devoured Boyd, he became part of you, his strength added to your strength, his form aligned with your form. Nature follows form, and when you took that scythe up to fight, it became part of your form as well.¡±

    Derrek gulped, a sheen of sweat forming on his face as he stared at the scythe. Discord was pretty sure all the ¡®form¡¯ talk went over his head, but it was clear he understood the implication. ¡°I don''t want it.¡±

    ¡°Too bad.¡± Her monotone gave no sign of mockery, or anything else for that matter. ¡°Fate has dropped it in your lap, and it is now part of you.¡± She flicked her wrist, and a green flame erupted from the base of the staff, engulfing the weapon and flickering away, no trace left behind. ¡°It will always be there when you call. It''s an imposition, I know, but there is no denying it.¡± Her hooded face pivoted toward Discord. ¡°Do you think he will be long? Twenty-nine only gives me so much time.¡±

    Discord sighed again, ¡°You know how it goes; speak of the Devil-¡±

    ¡°And he shall appear?¡±

    There was no herald to the newcomers¡¯ arrival; he was simply there as if he always had been. He stood in his gray pinstripe suit, hands clasped behind his back as he glared at Derrek with his solid black eyes, no sign of white. Derrek took a step back, his discomfort quickly turning to fear. Discord stepped between them. ¡°Check yourself, Desk guy. You''re out of your jurisdiction.¡± The newcomer stared for a further moment, then those tarpit eyes shrunk to a more natural size, if still uncanny.

    ¡°You''re right, of course. It is simply¡­ frustrating, to face my biggest failure in an epoch.¡± His speech was odd, not the content or the accent or even the pronunciation, but his spacing. The syllables came staggered, some too far apart, some too close, as if he were reading a script one letter at a time, forming the words as he figured them out. He bent slightly to the side so he could look at Derrek around Discord. ¡°I wish you were dead.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Discord snapped his fingers in Desk guys¡¯ face, those unblinking black marbles shifting across their seas of white to point at him. <i>¡°Play nice.</i> I can make your life hell and there''s nothing you can do about it. Not to mention we¡¯re on a time crunch.¡± He rolled up his sleeve and checked the six watches on his wrist, none of which showed the right time. ¡°What do you think, Grim? Six minutes?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°At most.¡±

    Discord grunted and tugged his sleeve back down, ¡°Good, we can work it.¡± He stepped aside so everyone faced inward and nodded at the gray man. ¡°Havok, this is Desk guy, closest thing to God with a capital ¡®G.¡¯ If you''ll recall from book one, he¡¯s the one who hired me to kill the Devourer over and over again.¡± He gave Desk guy the side-eye. ¡°A work agreement that was recently terminated. He¡¯s kinda like an accountant, just here to make sure things add up, except he¡¯s not allowed to directly influence mortal affairs.¡± He pulled a flask from his coat out of habit, but now wasn''t the time so he put it back. ¡°He won''t tell me why, and I don''t really care. The important thing is the loophole to that rule is to employ immortals. So when he says rude shit like earlier, just think of him like a chihuahua barking from behind a fence.¡± He glanced the gray man up and down and pursed his lips. ¡°Or a goldfish with chronic stank-eye.¡± Those black eyes rippled, stretching out and contracting. Discord smirked and looked back over to Derrek. ¡°Anyway, he¡¯s here because of what happened on the Sun. Any questions?¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Derrek stared at him blankly for a moment, then his eyes shifted to the gray man. ¡°Desk guy? That''s your name?¡±

    Those eyes shrunk to pinpricks and Desk guy let out a sigh. ¡°I do not have a name. ¡®Desk guy¡¯ is a nickname, you know how Discord likes those. He calls me that because-¡±

    ¡°You''re a guy who sits behind a desk.¡± Derrek finished for him.

    The pinpricks exploded into symmetrical patterns, each eye a unique Rorschach test. ¡°Yes. You get the joke.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Discord clapped his hands, commanding everyones¡¯ attention. ¡°Let''s cut to the chase.¡± He shifted his focus to Desk guy. ¡°The chains are weakening, aren''t they?¡±

    The Rorschachs collapsed inward and black marbles met Discords¡¯ gaze. ¡°Yes, they are.¡±

    Discord sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°Shit, it''s worse than I thought. If blood cults are being overwritten, that can only mean it''s too far gone to nip in the bud.¡± He stroked that little patch of hair on his lower lip thoughtfully. ¡°Is there any chance we can cut out all its connections? I can take out every cult on the planet if it''ll work.¡±

    Desk guy closed his eyes and shook his head. ¡°If you have a broom, you can also sweep the desert. Ragnarok is far closer than the other ancients, and all it needs is discontent to sow its seed.¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry.¡± Derrek held up one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. ¡°I am completely lost and in quite a bit of pain.¡± He opened his eyes and glared at Discord. ¡°Could you please just explain what you''re talking about? I¡¯ll even take the Cliffs notes if it helps me understand any of what the fuck is going on.¡±

    Discord met his gaze for a moment, then checked his watches again, nodding and tugging back down his sleeve. ¡°Fair enough, but I¡¯ll need you to save the questions for later.¡± Derrek nodded in understanding, and Discord gestured to the cleft altar. ¡°Like I said, a month ago these guys followed the blood god, but some time since then their connection to it was forced out. Not cut, but unplugged, so to speak, leaving a port for something else to connect to. The name of the thing that stole their worship is Ragnarok, a major asshole I threw into the sun fifteen hundred years ago and locked away with unbreakable chains.¡± Derrek opened his mouth, but Discord held up a finger. ¡°Save it. I thought it was a permanent solution, but apparently permanent is relative. As you just heard, the chains are weakening. I don''t know if that''s what''s letting it spawn these cults or if it''s the other way around, but we¡¯re at a point where it doesn''t really matter.¡± He took out a flask and took a slug; he needed it for this one. ¡°To put it bluntly, Ragnarok is going to destroy Earth and everything on it.¡±

    Derrek blinked and his jaw opened and closed several times, shaking his head gently in denial. ¡°Destroyed? No. <i>No.</i> There has to be something we can do!¡± He looked around frantically, grabbing at nothing as if he could conjure a solution out of thin air. ¡°Can''t you¡­ I don''t know, can''t you just go kill it?¡±

    Discord snorted. It would''ve been funny under any other circumstances. ¡°What, do you want me to shoot the Sun? Ragnarok can''t just be killed, why do you think I trapped him there? The only real way we could take it out is if you went and ate it, but unless you''ve got a thousand gallons of SPF ten trillion I¡¯d put it out of your mind. The fact is this is happening and we need to figure out what we¡¯re going to do about it.¡±

    Derrek stared at him for a moment. ¡°Well, what are we going to do about it?¡±

    ¡°You see,¡± Discord said as he scratched the back of his head, ¡°That''s the tricky part. This is beyond unprecedented, I don''t exactly have a quick-fix for this one. The good news is we have time to figure something out.¡± He took another slug and eyed Desk guy. ¡°How long have we got? You have a better sense than I do.¡±

    Each black marble flattened out into a straight line, fluctuating up and down rapidly like an audio recording sound wave, stabilizing and connecting at the ends to form empty circles once he¡¯d finished whatever calculations he was running. ¡°Fifteen years, maybe sixteen.¡± A silence hung over the group, though Derrek was the only one to show any reaction over the revelation, holding his head in his hands, looking down at the floorboards. Desk guy rolled up his sleeve and checked his singular watch, those circles filling with black like a fill function on a computer paint program. ¡°Apologies, but I have a prior commitment, and I''ve shared all I can at any rate.¡± He tugged down his sleeve and looked Discord in the eye. ¡°Let me know if you need anything¡­ specific. My hands are tied, but I may still have information that would be of use.¡±

    Discord nodded. ¡°Will do. Let me know if you grow a conscience and want to hand us a solution.¡±

    Desk guy smirked ever so slightly, those marbles growing a fraction of an inch. ¡°Will do.¡± And with just as little fanfare as his arrival, he was gone.

    Discord let out the breath he didn''t realize he was holding and took another sip from his flask. ¡°So yeah, we''ve got about fifteen years to figure something out before the world ends.¡± Derrek had been staring off into the distance, his mouth slightly open, but he blinked a few times and focused on Discord.

    ¡°Jesus fucking Christ.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± Discord offered his flask, but pulled it back at the last second, tucking it into his coat and producing a different flask which Derrek eyed warily. ¡°This one¡¯s Steel Barrel, figured you wouldn''t want a Bad Thanksgiving.¡± Derrek took the flask and turned it up, drinking at least half of the whisky before coming up for air. He fell into a coughing fit and didn''t realize until it subsided that Grim had her hand outstretched toward him.

    ¡°May I?¡± she asked. Derrek looked at her dumbly for a moment, coughed once more, then handed her the flask. Frost spread from her fingers across the metal, the entire flask covered in a thin layer by the time it reached her lips. Her head tilted back slightly as she took a long sip, her gaunt cheekbones visible in the low light. She sighed contentedly as she finished her indulgence and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her robe, offering the flask back to Derrek. ¡°Thank you. It''s a rare treat to be able to partake in mortal intoxicants.¡±

    Derrek took the flask and gawped at it for a moment, his tired eyes then shifting to Grim. ¡°I don''t mean to be rude, but why are you here? You didn''t offer anything while Desk guy was here and you said it wasn''t about the scythe, so it has to be something else.¡±

    Unseen by the other two, Discord smirked, and a moment later Grim did as well. ¡°Because I wanted to meet you. The fact that you consumed Boyd means you are part Reaper, and that insists a certain degree of responsibility for you and your actions upon me.¡± She tilted her head back, her nose peeking out from the shadows, bright green eyes shining from behind the darkness, the same shade as Derreks¡¯ left eye. ¡°I wanted to ensure the power was in good hands.¡± She looked Derrek up and down then nodded. ¡°I am satisfied that it is.¡±

    Derrek blinked. He scanned the room, looking at each and every corpse he had made before shifting his eyes to Grim. ¡°I killed twenty-nine people.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Grims¡¯ voice betrayed no emotion, it was a simple acknowledgement of a fact.

    Derrek blinked again. ¡°Doesn''t that¡­ matter to you?¡±

    Her hooded head tilted to the side quizzically. ¡°It was their time. You have done nothing so far that I take issue with.¡± She assessed the carnage herself, showing neither admiration nor disgust in her appraisal. ¡°In fact, you were very swift, very minimal in their suffering.¡± She nodded. ¡°Yes, I am satisfied.¡±

    Derrek stared at her for a moment, then finished off the frosted flash in his hand, taking in a gasping breath once it was empty. He shook his head, staring at the floor for a moment before looking back up at Grim. ¡°I had no idea what to expect when you showed up. Part of me was afraid you were here to collect my soul or something.¡±

    Grims¡¯ eyes glowed slightly brighter and a pit of dread opened in Discords¡¯ stomach. ¡°No,¡± she said, even more monotone than usual, ¡°your soul is not mine to collect.¡±

    <i>Oh shit.</i>

    Derreks¡¯ brow furrowed. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    <i>Shit shit shit.</i>

    Grim tilted her head again, her glowing eyes narrowing to green slits. ¡°Did Discord not tell you?¡±

    <i>Shit! Fucking shit!</i>

    Derreks¡¯ face scrunched up in annoyance and his eyes shifted to Discord, who was avoiding his gaze like the plague. ¡°What didn''t Discord tell me this time?¡±

    <i>No no no, fuck, no!</i>

    Grim was silent for a moment, and Derrek saw something in her bright eyes that worried him. <i>Fuck!</i> ¡°Your soul has been claimed by the Devourer. When your form parishes, it will absorb your soul into itself.¡±

    <i>No!</i>

    Derrek shook his head, confused. ¡°Wait¡­ does this mean I don''t get an afterlife?¡±

    <i>FUCK!</i>

    Grim nodded grimly. ¡°That''s correct. When your form dies, your soul will as well.¡±

    Discord closed his eyes and took in a breath, trying to will time to stop so the fallout could be avoided, but there was no unbreaking the seal. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense the devastation on Derreks¡¯ face, a deafening silence hanging over them. He sensed Derreks¡¯ eyes on him, and felt a dagger in his heart at the tone of Derreks¡¯ words. ¡°Why did you keep this from me?¡±

    Discord scratched the back of his head, hemming and hawing until he finally met Derreks¡¯ cold eyes. ¡°It hadn''t come up.¡±

    Derrek took two furious steps toward him, his face a picture of rage and his words cold as ice.<i> ¡°You should have brought it up.</i> Maybe around the time you told me there was an afterlife at all. Or rather, the <i>dozens</i> of afterlives, none of which I''ll ever see.¡± He began pacing back and forth, grabbing a handful of his own white hair. ¡°Unbelievable. You are <i>unbelievable!</i>¡± He spun to face Discord again, stabbing an accusatory finger at him. ¡°Is it <i>fun?</i> Fucking with my life like this? Was it fun having me make friends with these people when you knew <i>goddamn well</i> your plan would go tits-up like always? Why even bring me here?¡± He stepped forth, that finger jabbing into Discords¡¯ chest. ¡°You didn''t need me, and I don''t need <i>this.</i>¡±

    A tense silence hung between them, neither of them blinking as they stared the other down, their focus only diverted when Grim coughed. ¡°I see you have much to discuss, my time is almost up anyway. It was a pleasure to meet you, Snowe. I''m sure our paths will cross again.¡± She gave Discord nothing but a nod, and she was gone, that minute pressure change registering in his ears while Derrek simply stared at the empty space she used to occupy.

    Discord sighed. ¡°Sorry about that, they''re both terrible at farewells.¡±

    Derrek rounded on him, his anger unquelled. ¡°I don''t give a damn about their farewells, or anything else you have to say for that matter.¡± He paced again, covering his hands with his face, shaking his head. ¡°I need a break.¡±

    Discord blinked. ¡°What, from Saturdays?¡±

    ¡°From you!¡± Derrek rounded on him again and came so close Discord felt droplets of spit from his screamed words. ¡°I don''t want to see you again.¡± He stabbed that finger into his chest with each word. ¡°I don''t want you to show up out of nowhere, I don''t want you to drag me across the fucking globe, I don''t want to even hear your <i>name</i> again.¡± He turned around and threw his hands up, exasperated. ¡°Not unless you''re either ready to stop lying to me, or you have a goddamn solution to the world ending.¡± Discord was about to defend himself on the lying part, but Derreks¡¯ green eye stopped the words in his throat. ¡°Don''t even fucking say it. Lies by omission are still lies.¡± He shook his head again, then glanced at the top half of Adams¡¯ head, that gold tooth shining obscenely in the blood-stained half-smile. ¡°Just¡­ goddamn it.¡±

    Discord stepped forward, trying to put his hand on Derreks¡¯ shoulder, ¡°Havok, I¡¯m sorry-¡± But Derrek jerked away, glaring at Discord anew.

    ¡°I don''t want to hear it. Send me home.¡± He glanced around at the carnage one more time, the anger in his eyes giving way to a dread Discord knew well, and Derreks¡¯ words were little more than a whisper ¡°Just send me home.¡±

    There were thousands of things Discord wanted to say, but he knew none of it would help. Some wounds can only heal with time, and some never get there, but the only way to know is to try. He blew air out through his nose and nodded. ¡°Sure. Get some rest.¡± Those mismatched eyes narrowed a degree more, but Derrek didn''t say anything more as Discord put his hand on his shoulder. For a fraction of a fraction of a moment, they were both back in New York, standing in Derreks tiled kitchen. He released his hand, and a fraction of a fraction later, Discord was back in the barn, alone with the corpses. He let the silence fester in his ears, allowed the smell of the blood to finally meet his nose, and he breathed in deep, letting it out in a guttural roar that rocked the very structure. Nails vibrated from their slots in the rafters, clattering down to the wood boards, the livestock outside panicking, every bird for miles fleeing their roost as he released his frustration in the empty air.

    When his well of emotion had run dry, he took in an equally large breath, and let it out as a simple sigh. ¡°Fuck,¡± he whispered. He had pushed Derrek too hard. He should¡¯ve run this one alone, or at the very least run a more recent recon. He slapped himself hard, driving that line of thought from his mind. He couldn''t change what was already written, that had always been about the only thing he couldn''t do. Derrek was angry, but he would cool down quick, he always had. Their bridge was on fire, but not burned, all there was to do was wait until it was safe to cross once again. Besides, how long could it take for him to find something good enough for Derrek to forgive him? That weirdo with the beanie had some promise, and who knew what else destiny would drop in his lap?

    He sighed again. All of that thinking could wait, he had two-and-a-half-dozen corpses to deal with, and most of them in the wrong condition to explain it as a mutual brawl. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. <i>Maybe I could make it look like some other group came after them? Some local vigilante militia that found out what they got up to? </i>He glanced at the clean-cut limbs and heads. He would have to rough those up, make them look like they came from something duller, machetes or axes and whatnot. Pull out the knives Derrek left behind, shoot the wounds to hide the true cause. Hunting rifles would be best, maybe 30-06, lot of hunters in these parts.

    Discord nodded, smirking as he stroked that patch of hair under his lip. Today had been a fiasco, but at least he could enjoy a little cover up. It''s all about the little things.