ORPHEUS ASCENDING

 
Author: Notmanos
E-Mail: notmanos at yahoo dot com
Rating: R
Disclaimer:  The characters of Angel are owned by 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy; the
character of Wolverine is also owned by 20th Century Fox and Marvel Comics.  No copyright
infringement intended. I'm not making any money off of this, but if you'd like to be a patron of the
arts, I won't object. ;-)  Oh, and Bob is *my* character - keep your hands off!   
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And they could walk out. Maybe that was the worst thing - they could get up and walk out if only they knew these prisons were mostly self-imposed ... but the hell of it was they didn't know. That was hell - believing you were powerless,being powerless, and yet all the time freedom was right there ... right in front of his face.

"Earth to Major Tom," Bob said, and suddenly everything contracted into a nothing point, and he found himself looking right into Bob's neon blue eyes.

Logan suddenly lurched back, breaking contact with Bob, and was startled to find he was kneeling on the floor. Bob was crouched before him, Helga standing off to one side, watching them with barely concealed impatience. "What the fuck happened?" He asked, covering his personal embarrassment with anger. It always seemed safest.

Bob stood, and told him, "Mate, what is it with you? You adapted to the power I gave you."

He got to his feet, feeling strangely shaky, and wondered exactly what that meant. "Huh?"

"You started using it unconsciously - you started seeing things like I can. But you had no idea how to control it, so you went a little ..." He seemed to struggle to find a kind way to put it.

"Cataleptic," Helga interjected. "I mean, do you want some ranch dressing with that vegetable?" Man, she was the queen of tact, wasn't she?

He scowled at her - like it would do any good - and then shot the look at Bob, even though it would have even less effect. "But you fixed it, right?"

"Yes, you're apples. I can't imagine your mind could adapt to the energies now, so you should be okay. But if you suspect things are getting weirder for you than the rest of us, shout. Right?"

He nodded, feeling a little stronger in himself, but still a little ashamed of what had happened. He tried to make sense of it, but he almost couldn't remember it now - had Bob been responsible for that? "Is that how ... I mean, you can see through the walls?"

Bob grimaced, and Logan knew he didn't want to talk about it. "There really aren't any walls, mate. It's just easier that way."

"Easier for who?"

"Them and us. Mortals don't usually prowl the halls."

"What halls?"

"Now mate, don't be a smart ass. Besides, I got us a lead so we can get the hell out of Dodge."

Logan wasn't ready to let this go. "You see it all, and it doesn't get to you?"

"At my age, you learn how to filter it out. Ya have to if you wanna survive, just like you and your hypersenses. If you never learned how to filter the input, could you ever go near a public toilet ever again?"

Okay, that was a good point.

"Where did they go?" Helga asked, crossing her arms over her chest as her tail twitched impatiently.

"The Ogdoad realm. Everyone hangin' on to their britches?"

"Wait,"Logan said, but it was too late. Hell seemed to twist around them, and then it felt like they were literally spit out into a hard black nothingness. Although it was nice to be out of hell, was he ever going to get used to this?

Reality coalesced around them like it was being slowly colored in; the sky was first, a swirl of dark red and purple like silt disturbed at the bottom of a riverbed,and then he could see they were standing on a jagged outcropping of blue-black rock, overlooking a desert of maroon sand. In the distance was a domed city, a clear bubble surrounding towers made of gold; it looked like jewels glittered in their spires, emeralds and rubies as big as a Human being. "Where the hell are we?" He asked, looking around frantically. He couldn't smell anything but parchment now - what did that mean?

"Ogdoad," Bob said, brushing sand from his hands. "In Ancient Egyptian mythology, the Ogdoad pantheon consisted of gods who made up their basic creation myth - Nun, Naunet, Huh, Hauhet, Kuk, Kauket, Amun, and Amaunet. Or, to be very literal, water, death, space, infinity, darkness, chaos, wind, and power."

"You mean there's gods named Nun and Huh?" He was positive Bob was making this up.

"Yeah. Again, we can't all have the cool names, Wolverine." He gave him a smart ass wink, then added, "Nun's really uptight about it, but Huh's cool."

"Do you think Ares and Kumiho are getting some help here?" Helga asked, joining him in looking around. The way her tail continued to twitch, he knew she was uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't put it past Kuk and Kauket, but Naunet hates Ares, so we can rule them out."

"Any friends here?" Logan asked, turning towards an odd noise. It was just beyond the base of the cliff they were on, and he started down the incline cautiously. It was a small noise, a dry scrape, like sand against rock, but since there was no wind he assumed it meant something.

"Yeah, Amaunet - I know her through Bastet."

"The god with the cat head?" He knew that much.

"You were married to her, weren't you?" Helga said. Logan looked back at Bob so fast he almost got whiplash.

Bob shrugged with his hands and shook his head. " Not exactly; it's kinda complicated."

It sounded like a bad sitcom - "I Married Bastet". "She gave you that knife, right?"

"Yeah, it was a gift."

Logan continued down the slight slope, shaking his head. Bob had goddesses among his ex-wives? And yet he hadn't been turned into a newt? Either they were very patient, or Bob managed to fake being a decent husband. Still, what did that mean when your were both all powerful and virtually omniscient? He didn't even want to imagine what a spat would be like - worlds probably crumbled.

Logan reached the base of the crag, where the outcropping met the base of a shallowly sloped hill, and found the source of the noise. "Uh, Bob," he asked, never taking his eyes off the thing. "What does Amaunet look like?"

"Well, as a goddess she can take any form she likes, but she seems to prefer the ones the Egyptians knew her by - a woman with the body of a snake. Why?"

"I think she's here," he said, wondering if he should pop his claws.

The thing reared up, hissing. It was the face of a beautiful Egyptian woman, who, from the neck down, was a serpent - a serpent with a scaled black body approximately sixty feet long and twenty feet wide, coiled in a loose circle beneath her. But as she raised her upper half far over him, maybe twenty feet, her body unfurled, her tail leaving a track as wide as a riverbed in the brick red sand.

Logan suddenly wondered if all Bob's break ups had been amicable.

8

"Amau, sweetheart, please don't attack the friends," Bob said jovially, coming up behind him.

"You dare to bring a mortal here?" She spat. Her voice was half Human and half snake
hiss. She was also speaking Egyptian Arabic, but he didn't realize that until after the fact.

"He's no mere mortal - he's my avatar. He's pretty neat, once you get to know him. And oh, this Helga - she's working in Moros's stead. You got no problem with that, do ya?"

Her large golden eyes, which had vertical black slits for pupils, seemed to looked down at Helga with a scrutiny that would have made Logan nervous. She looked exactly like a cobra eyeing a wounded bird. "Your consort?"

"Hey!" Helga objected. "I'm no one's "consort"!"

"She's my girlfriend and bodyguard," Bob clarified.

Logan didn't know how Bob said "bodyguard" with a straight face. Like he needed one!

Amaunet scrutinized them all, and then started to slowly lower herself down into a smaller coil. But then something really strange happened - the air seemed to distort, twist around her like it was in pain, and then she was no longer a giant snake but a tall and slightly androgynous Egyptian woman, dressed in black scales like leather, with a small clear gemstone in the center of her forehead, protruding like a third eye. She had no hair, only more black scales covering her scalp, and her lips were, for some reason, yellow, but her eyes remained gold with slit serpentine pupils. "Bringing mortals here - no matter their affiliations - is against the rules."

"You know how I am about rules," Bob replied nonchalantly.

Her ocher lips thinned, and Logan noticed her lips were covered with very tiny scales as well. "Be that as it may - do I assume your presence here has something to do with Ares and Kumiho passing through?"

Bob threw up his hands. "Finally! So what did those buggers want?"

Logan noticed something strange about the light; although dark red and making the shadows on the ground purple, it seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. Glancing up, he found the sun; it was crimson and flickering like a ball of fire. What kind of weird ass dimension was this?

"Help. It seems they're afraid they're about to come under attack."

"Oh really? By whom?"

"You."

"Those fucking liars," Helga snapped, as Bob just chuckled and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Do you know what they're trying to do?"

Amaunet gave Helga a glance that could have withered a live plant. Obviously she didn't like mortals ( or was it consorts? ) talking to her. "Upset the balance? Yes, of course, I am not a mortal."

It would take more than that to intimidate Helga. She glared back at her, an acrid look that could have burned meat from the bone, and said, "Look sweetcakes, they want to either sway him or kill him - you gonna help us or not?"

Logan looked away and pretended to cough to cover a laugh. Only Helga would dare to call a pissy goddess "sweetcakes".

"I wish them luck," Amaunet said, her voice as cold as ice. "Bob is an impossible beast."

Of course Bob laughed at this, not in the least bit offended. He must have had a rhino thick hide, or he just didn't take gods seriously. Did he take anything seriously? "If someone doesn't stop them, you know the repercussions."

Amaunet made a sour face, like she just smelled something bad, and glanced towards the domed, jeweled city. But she seemed to be looking through it, and Logan saw her pupils dilate slightly, swelling into an ellipse before shrinking to normal width. He wondered what kind of power she had, and if Bob would ever tell them the full story about it. After having had a glimpse of hell as it truly was, he'd come to the not so startling realization that Bob edited the truth, based on what he thought people could handle. It made him wonder what Bob had never told him about himself. "Fighting is such a lower plane activity," Amaunet sighed.

"It happens to the best of us. You don't have to get directly involved, just give me a power push if I need it. Much appreciated."

"Have you asked Camaxtli?"

"Yeah, visited him earlier. Can't take them to his realm, you know."

"Him? I thought it was a her," Logan interjected. "And why can't we go to his/her realm?"

"Well, Cammy's back to bein' a he right now - he likes to switch off. And I can't take ya because ... well, temptin' him with blood on the hoof just ain't a wise idea."

"There are vampire gods?"

"Not as such. Cammy's not a vampire, just a war god. They can be like that, you know?"

"Camaxtli's power springs from blood, mortal," Amaunet hissed at him derisively. He could see she had a black forked tongue. Kinky.

Logan mulled that over for a moment, then began to ask, "Then how did Jean and the others act as - "

"Not here," Bob interrupted. "I'll explain later." Bob quickly looked away, so he didn't hold his gaze for long, but Logan scowled at him anyways. Was there some sort of blood ritual involved in that whole "proxying for Camaxtli" thing? Just because none of the others remembered it didn't mean it didn't happen. But he couldn't see Bob hurting them, even if it was only just to prick their fingers (although he doubted a bloodthirsty god would be happy with such a piddling amount). Did that mean Bob offered his own blood up? Would he have put it past him?

What an odd man.

"I will aid if possible," Amaunet said grandly, like a Queen bestowing a favor on a subject by not having him beheaded in front of his kids.

"Ta," Bob said, as if this was no big deal at all. "Know where they are now?"

Amaunet cocked her head to the side, in such a way that he knew she couldn't have a normal spine. "Kumiho is very dangerous."

"Yeah, I know. Did she get some help here?"

Although Logan knew he was no good at reading the body language of snake women, he was relatively sure she was hesitating. "I believe Kuk may have rendered assistance."

"Kuk," Bob repeated with a weary sigh. "Figures. Did he loan it, or did he go with them?"

"Kuk is gone, but I'm not sure he left with them."

Bob nodded, as if it made perfect sense that she didn't know; like gods were coming and going all the time around here. "Do you know where they went?"

Now he knew she was hesitating. "I believe they have retreated to the Shadow realm."

Bob grimaced and looked down at the bloody sand, nudging up a bit of it with his toe. "Oh dear."

"Bad news, old man?" Helga asked. Her tail continued to twitch metronomically, in such a way that he knew she still wasn't happy with Amaunet.

"Well, possibly. Are you ready to fight?"

"I'm always ready," Logan replied.

"Ditto," Helga agreed. See, that was why - annoying as she could be - she was so much more fun than your average person.

"Good, because I think we're going to have to - if they're going to set a trap for us, it will be there."

"And you're going in anyways?" Amaunet said, giving Bob an odd look. It was somewhere between admiring and disbelieving, as if she was glad she was never that much of lunatic, but she was cheered that someone else was.

Bob shrugged helplessly. "Can't help but do so, Amau. The only other option is to wait and see if they come for us, but it'll probably be all over by then."

"And we've been through too much shit to just wait around," Logan pointed out. He was tired of this rampant, serial weirdness, and just wanted to get this all over with. Especially if there was some danger he could adapt to Bob's energy again - he still wasn't sure what he had seen, but he was sure he didn't want to see it again.

Amaunet gave him a deadly look, as if he had offended her simply by speaking in her presence, but since it was clear she didn't like mortals he didn't take it personally. She switched her death glare to Bob. "You do ask for trouble."

"Not really. It just sort of finds me."

She made a derisive noise and didn't so much shake her head as waggle it side to side. Not used to it? "You've been in the lower realms too long."

"Probably. But hell, what can you do?" He then turned to them, and seemed to study them both before saying, "Really ready? I think we'll be hit the second we come in, knowing Ares."

Logan exchanged a questioning glance with Helga, but they both saw the same thing - an urge to get this done, no matter what. "We're ready," he said, on behalf of both of them. Helga nodded an agreement. "What's the big deal on this Shadow realm anyways?"

"It's a demon playground. And Ares surely can throw his weight around there like you wouldn't believe." Bob then closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists at his side. He looked like he was psyching himself up for something, and that wasn't good. "Thanks, Amau, be ready for my signal. Okay guys, hang on to your knickers - here we go."

Once again the world seemed to warp around them, invert, and Logan just barely had a sense of hitting something before they attacked.

9

He heard them before he even felt the first blow. It was a high pitched squealing, sort of like what he imagined a monkey being pureed in a rusty blender might sound like, and then he felt a sharp pain as claws ripped deep into his back and tore away muscle as well as flesh.

As he cried out in pain, he saw shadows swarming towards him, obscuring his vision. No wonder it was called the Shadow realm.

He popped his claws and slashed out at the all smothering darkness, hoping he wasn't on the edge of a cliff. He'd had no time to orient himself, and didn't have the vaguest idea of his surroundings, or even a hint as to where Helga and Bob were in relation to him - all he knew was he was under attack.

The shadows seemed to enfold him, shadows with edges that cut into his skin from all angles - he could hear cloth ripping, felt his skin being torn away like he was being flayed alive, and it seemed like his claws were slicing through something with the consistency of cotton candy; something barely tangible. But their screeches spiraled up into the hypersonic range, and he assumed he was hurting them.

He continued fighting even though he couldn't see, even though half his body was in savage pain from deep cuts, even though the cries of these creatures not only filled his ears but seemed to be threatening to crowd out all of his thoughts as well. He fought because it was pure reflex, and because he didn't know what else to do; it became a simple equation - them or him.

Logan made headway, but he had no idea how. He stumbled free from a knot of darkness, his whole body feeling like it was on fire from all the healing currently going on, but he felt new cuts made on the back of his thighs, and a sharp, knife like pain seemed to punch through his left eye.

He continued to lash out, because he had no idea what else he should do, but he dropped to his knees on what felt like hard packed earth, and hoped he hadn't just lost his eye. He didn't want to find out if that would grow back or not.

He assumed the darkness would dissipate as he got free of these suckers, but it didn't - he still couldn't see a damn thing, and he felt a momentary spike of fear through his gut as he considered the possibility he was blind. But as his eyes adjusted to the Stygian darkness,he thought he saw movement, the overwhelming night writhing like snakes, and he smelled someone familiar, even over the sour metallic smell of demon blood. "Hel?" He asked.

"What the fuck were those things?" She gasped, crawling up to him. If her breathlessness didn't gave away her condition, the smell of her blood did.

"I don't know. You're the demon - you tell me."

"Fuck you," she said, but without much enthusiasm. She crawled up to him and sat down, leaning against him, the back of her head resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder. The smell of her blood was strong, and it seemed to be taking her a moment to catch her breath.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, just got winded. What about you? You don't smell all that uninjured yourself."

"I'm okay," he lied, still not sure if he had his left eye or not. But he wrapped his arms around her, claws still out, prepared to defend her as well as himself until she could recover.

"Sure you are, hero," she replied, but so lightly he didn't take it as an insult.

Maybe his eyes were adapting ( or eye - he wasn't sure he had stereo vision ), but he was pretty sure he could make a lighter darkness out in front of the greater darkness - it was that, like wisps of smoke, like dark wraiths - that was moving, twisting on unfelt winds, surging and falling back like the tide. There was either a single one of them, a huge amorphic blob surrounding them, or there were thousands of the things, millions, waiting to tear them to ribbons.

And, if he was right, they weren't on hard ground, just like they weren't under a dark sky - they were on nothingness, in nothingness. Not so much a realm of shadows as a realm of complete void, yet paradoxically a void given form:there was no light, no nothing, just the darkness itself given savage aspect.

"Can you see anything?" She asked.

He shook his head, but he knew she could feel the movement. "Not really. Is there anything to see?"

"Beats me." She then took a deep breath, and shouted, "Hey, old man, where are you?"

This emptiness did something odd to their voices; he heard no echo but a queer flatness, like they were stuck in a dark room full of acoustic tiles. "They'd have hit him harder than us - he's the big gun here," he told her, although he had no idea why. It wasn't helpful.

"I know," she said, and seemed to sag into him further, as if trying to take refuge underneath his skin.

Suddenly there was a noise, and the not-sky over their heads seemed to split open, like fabric being torn. Bright light stabbed through it, making Logan wince and close his eyes, as they heard a high pitched, distressed squeal all around them, and the flutter of a thousand different wings. When Logan could open his eyes again, he saw Bob not too far away, standing just below the rip in the sky. "That's a little better, isn't it?" Since he was wearing so much body paint, it was hard to tell he was a bit bloody too.

Helga sighed in relief, but Logan, although secretly relieved, wasn't about to show it. "Are you sure this isn't hell?"

"Yeah, but it could be considered a private hell dimension."

And that's when they all felt the ground shake.

It wasn't so much an earthquake as a tremendous thud, and they all looked towards the noise to see ... a leg?

A leg. A thirty foot high leg. Followed by another.

"Holy shit," Helga gasped, as they both looked up to see one pissed off looking god towering over them. He could use the Eiffel Tower as a toothpick. And on a sash around his waist, he was wearing a sword that looked as long as the Washington Monument.

"Did you know Ares was this big?" Logan asked her, looking up at the literal mountain of a man. He could squash them like bugs, and he had a feeling a god could squish adamantium if he really wanted to.

She shook her head, bloody and injured tail wrapping protectively around his wrist. If they were going to get squashed, they were going to get squashed together. "No, no fucking clue."

"Oh please," Bob said impatiently, and then said something in a language Logan couldn't identify, which struck him as instantly wrong - since when was the last time he heard a language that he didn't know?

But things got even weirder, as Ares suddenly ... well, shrunk.

They didn't see it happening - one minute he was looming over them like some Old Testament god, and then next he was standing in front of them, about Human size and looking perfectly baffled at his change of altitude.

Up close he was nothing much: a barrel chested guy with a thick weightlifter's neck,
a bland moon face that seemed soft and only half-formed, dark eyes like piss holes in snow, and a thick mop of copper red hair in a loose and long style that suggested his last trip to the Earth realm - if ever - occurred at some point in the 1970's. If only he had some facial hair and obvious tats on his thick, bare arms, he could have been one of the rednecks he used to see on the bare knuckle boxing circuit. He was wearing gold armor that made him look like a chocolate bar wrapper, and basically could have been on his way to a gay toga party. What was threatening at seventy feet in height was silly at six feet.

Ares himself looked down, almost more disappointed than startled. "Hey, no fair!" He whined, glaring at Bob.

Bob just scoffed and shook his head. "If you're not fighting fair, neither am I."

As Bob started walking towards him, Ares drew his sword, and held it towards him threateningly, as if it might shoot lightning bolts at him or something. It didn't, and Bob hardly seemed phased. "Is this the best you can do, Bob? Come to a fight with a few magic tricks, a proxy demon, and a ..." his dark, iris free eyes settled on Logan, and seemed to stare at him and through him at the same time. It was unsettling, but really he was just pissing him off more. "What the hell is that? Why can't I read it?"

Logan wondered what Bob had done to him to keep Ares from reading him. "Wanna look in my mind, asshole? Go ahead." He wondered if remembering being flayed alive would freak out a god as much as a telepath.

But Ares just sneered at him, and aimed the gleaming silver sword in his direction. "You have the taint of Bob on you, creature. Are you his proxy?"

"Why would he proxy for me if I'm here?" Bob asked. "Where's Kumi hidin', Airs? Leave you on your lonesome, has she?"

Ares ignored him and advanced on him and Helga, sword first. "You dare to bring mortals into this? Idiot - you've been among them too long - "

Logan eased Helga out of his arms and stood up, mostly healed, or at least so much so it didn't make a difference. "Bring it on, fun boy. I ain't your average mortal."

Ares stopped and glared at him in horrified fascination. "Are you actually challenging me?"

Helga chuckled. "I really don't know who to feel sorry for here."

Logan ignored her, and glared straight back at Ares. Did he think eyes that were all black would unnerve him? Hey, Srina's eyes went all black when she went invisible - obviously Ares didn't know any mutants. "Yeah, I am. If Bob can kick your ass, so can I."

Ooh, that did it. Ares pasty complexion turned as orange as a carrot ( orange? ), and his lips twitched as if they were having a seizure on his fat face. "No mortal speaks to me that way!" Then with a mighty roar, Ares charged him, swinging his blade so fast, and with such dexterity, that it was a blur.

So Logan just held his ground, and when he was certain Ares was in range, he held out a claw. The clang was tremendous, and the hit seemed to vibrate down his entire skeleton, but he had bet Bob's power on top of his adamantium would be enough to beat Ares and the power in his sword.

He was right.

The top half of the sword neatly flew away, and Ares looked at the stub, dumbstruck. "What the hell..?" But then he threw the stub aside angrily, and shouted, "This is your fault, Bob!" He then made a dismissive hand gesture at Logan, and it felt like a lightning bolt hit him straight in the brain, bypassing his skull and heading straight for the prefrontal cortex. The pain was so great he didn't even feel it - his vision just whited out for a second. When he came to, he was laying on the ground, his head cradled in Helga's lap, and the pain thrumming through his nerves like an electric current, but fading rapidly. Helga looked down at him, and said, "You know you get brownie points for symbolically emasculating him."

"Thank you." He must not have been out for more than a second, though, as Ares was still taking long, angry strides towards the impassively waiting Bob.

"You bastard exile! Can't you use your tiny excuse for a brain for once and see the bigger picture?" Aries roared, clenching his large hands into meaty fists.

"The bigger picture?" Bob replied casually. "The one where you run stuff as Kumiho's lapdog?"

"I am no one's lapdog!"

Logan now realized he had stereo vision. He was a little blurry on the left side, but blurry was better than blind any day. And Helga hadn't reacted in horror upon seeing his face, so he figured he was better off than he thought.

"Yes you are, you stupid shit. The moment Kumiho wants you out you're gone - and you know what Eris is going to do to you when she finds you."

That made Ares freeze in his tracks. Family in-fighting? "Eris?"

"You and I both know myths and your personal hype is bullshit - she was always the powerhouse in the family, and holy shit, mate, is she pissed at you."

Ares now tried to bluff and posture, proving macho behavior wasn't limited to the Earth realm. "I can handle her," he lied, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

Bob snorted derisively. "Uh huh. Mate, you were never hiding from me - you're hidin' from her."

"I am not!"

"Pull the other one! You're shit scared of her, and you fuckin' should be! How the hell were you and Kumi gonna deal with her?"

Ares's shoulders rounded in defeat, as if he was suddenly holding up a great burden. "Kumiho had a plan."

"Which was what?"

Ares titled his head up, setting his square jaw, the universal look of stubbornness. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

But Bob studied him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Whatever defenses Ares had, they seemed to drop immediately. "What?"

"You don't know, do you? She never told you."

"She did so!"

This was pathetic. Who knew gods could be so petty and immature?

Bob shook his head and made a "go away you're bothering me kid" gesture with his hands. "You're a victim here too, ain't you Airs? She fucked with your head."

"Ares is no one's victim!" He roared, just like an angry bear. But talk about a case of someone protesting too damn much; his automatic defensiveness spoke volumes that his shouting couldn't match.

Bob threw his hands up in surrender, and looked as disappointed as the rest of them felt. "Do you have any idea where she went, or did she take that from your mind?"

"I am not - "

"Do you want to get some of your own back?" Bob interrupted.

Ares paused and looked confused, which only reflected the general feeling of him and Helga at the moment. "Huh?"

"Somebody's got to stop her. Wanna join us? You could get a boot in before we finish her off."

Ares continued to look confused, and Logan could almost hear the rusty wheels in his head turning. Not a big thinker, was he?  "I, uh - "

"I can keep her out of your head. She's good, but even she's not sneaky enough to get around me."

Ares looked as hopelessly lost as an oversized tot, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he burst into tears. "I - I don't know ... "

"Wanna kick her ass? Last chance, mate."

"Hey," Helga snapped. "I thought he was the bad guy!"

Bob shrugged. "Shit happens, hon. You know that."

Ares gestured helplessly behind him. "Your creature broke my sword."

"I am not a creature!" Logan sniped. Asshole.

Bob rolled his eyes, but Logan wasn't sure if that was aimed at him, Ares, or both. "I'll get you a new one, okay? But seriously, don't threaten Logan with metal - you're just wasting your time and his."

Ares continued to look lost at sea. "He is some kind of robot?"

"All right, that's it," Logan snapped, getting to his feet. He felt much better now; the effects of the electric enema seemed to have died down.

"Here we go again," Helga sighed.

Bob held up a hand to him, and Logan froze in his tracks. "Damn it, Bob, let me go," he growled.

But of course that was pointless. "You know my avatar couldn't be mechanical. And seriously, mate, stop pissing him off."

Ares snorted derisively. "Avatar or not, he's still a mortal."

"He still had a point. If I can kick your ass, so can he. And in spite of all the tricks in your helmet, my money's still on him. My avatar's as insane as I am."

Logan didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult.

Ares gazed at him warily, mouth twisting in distaste, and while he couldn't move, Logan could still throw a death glare his way. He didn't look impressed, but still he looked away first. "You can't trust these creatures. They're inconstant and easily manipulated."

"Unlike gods?" Bob shot back. Ouch, that had to smart.

Ares briefly flushed orange again - yep, that hurt - but before his anger could truly balloon out of control, he seemed to get a handle on it, and his whole body sagged in defeat. "I do not know how she tricked me."

"Of course not; she wouldn't leave you that kind of info. But you can find her, can't you Airs?"

He looked up, surprised, and shook his head, a petulant look on his face. He was exactly like a giant, overgrown infant, wasn't he? Emotionally if nothing else. War gods were children? Why did that make a sick sort of sense? Little boys and girls in the backyard, playing war, only the figures they used weren't toy soldiers.

Bob released him, but now it didn't seem to matter. Logan had a thing about attacking the deficient, and Bob must have known that too. He simply turned back in disgust, returning to Helga. He held a hand down, and she grabbed it, using him to pull herself up. She looked like she had healed as well, but it still seemed like she had an extra kink to her tail.

"I don't know - " Ares said helplessly. He really didn't know, did he?


 

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