by R. E. Vance
It seems that when the gods were still being gods, they had this place where they stored all the stuff too destructive for the universe to have easy access to, while at the same time too powerful to destroy. Things like the Golden Fleece, Odin’s Eye and Noah’s Helm … and, of course, the Spear of Longinus—the spear that stabbed Jesus. In other words, a weapon so powerful it could literally kill a god.
The museum also stored some of the most wretched and horrible creatures in existence. The Erlking, a platoon of aqrabuamelu and camazotz, even Gogmagog, all carbon-frozen like Han Solo in Empire Strikes Back. For one reason or another, the gods chose not to kill those creatures, but rather hold them captive—alive and pissed off—forever. Kind of like the Phantom Zone prison that held General Zod. After an eternity flipping around the universe in one of those, no wonder he was so pissed off.
I was there in the Museum, and because of some terrible shit that went down in a story far too long and tragic for me to ever want to relive again, those evil creatures were released into the world.
And even though I hunted down and killed most of those evil fucks, I’d always wondered why the gods chose Yomi as the domain to hold them in.
Running through the dark forest now, I understood. This forest wasn’t just dark and dreary, it was downright filled with all sorts of creepy crawlies just ready to swallow you whole.
Placing the Museum in Yomi was the equivalent of an island prison surrounded by sharks. Except this place didn’t have sharks—it had a gashadokuro, who, within our first twenty yards into the damned place, swiped down at us with a giant, bony fist.
Thankfully, the giant skeleton wasn’t expecting to see three humans and a viper running through his (her? Hard to determine sex when you’re literally looking at a giant, fleshless skeleton) domain. The oversized Skeletor swung down with its open hand like it was trying to high five us, and if it hadn’t been for the unnaturally large cherry blossom tree between us and him, he would have squashed us like bugs, staining the white ridges of his palm red.
“So, not that way,” I said, pushing Bella and Judith to the left and away from the gashadokuro. If the gashadokuro legends were true, then he was rooted in place and wouldn’t be able to follow us.
Of course, those legends were filtered through Penemue’s alcohol-addled mind. My only hope was that the creatures who called this dark place home weren’t frolicking about at the forest’s edge.
We veered to the left before turning sharply right again and deeper into the forest. I took the lead, pistol in hand; right now, the best thing to do was clear the path. Behind us, I could hear the cries of the child-gods as they entered the tree line. They were yelling—mostly at each other—to hurry up and catch the marauders.
“Marauders?” I looked back at Bella. “Seems were in a 1940s western being chased by a posse of black hats … And since we’re the good guys with a noble mission, we’ll be fine.” I gave my wife what I hoped was a reassuring wink before turning to see what fresh hells lay in front of us.
But any effort to reassure her was literally blasted to smithereens. We heard a crackle of electricity followed by a thunderous boom and the unmistakable sound of bones shattering as a femur (or maybe part of a jawbone) fell right in front of us.
Evidently Thor or Zeus hadn’t taken kindly to the poor giant trying to give them a high five.
↔
We must have run about three hundred yards, dodging all kind of mythical Yomi nasties as we went, and every one of them was shocked to see the three of us dashing through.
But these mythical creatures weren’t fools, either. They heard screams, the taunts … the boom. They knew what was happening. And instead of interfering and risking the ire of a band of gods, they followed at a distance, the temptation of seeing us being demolished by gods too great to pass up.
Great, I thought, my death is going to have an audience.
We ran until we reached a cliff face jutting up as far as the eye could see. Only thing was, we were running with our eyes wide open and our goal was to keep running, so there was no way we could head straight into a stone wall. It was as if the damn thing had been camouflaged and only became visible when we were too close to do anything about it.
Given that we could no longer run away and had to abruptly change direction, the gods could gain considerable ground on us. We needed to keep moving.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s follow this until—” But as I spoke, the rock wall angled inward. I turned the other way and watched in horror as the cliff face turned in, too.
And then I realized what was happening. The gods, being gods, were toying with us. They had resurrected the stone curtain in such a way that it literally caught us by surprise. Then they’d turned what seemed to us like a cliff face into a valley. Well, a cul-de-sac-style valley, for this particular unnatural structure terminated in a dead end.
“Humph,” I mused to myself, “a dead end. As in, dead at the end.” Because that’s exactly where we were: at the end. We were going to die at the hands of child-gods in a hell constructed by a twice-fallen angel whom I considered my best friend.
Still considered my best friend, despite everything.
I looked over at Bella, who slowly turned around to face the gods. I was finally going to get what I always wanted: to die by her side. Just like I’d said in my vows. Of course, when I said that in my vows, I had hoped that the end would come when we were both so old that neither of us could stand up without something snapping. I had also hoped that we’d be hanging out and I’d say something witty and funny (as I was prone to do) and we’d literally die laughing.
But I guess beggars can’t be choosers, and this was as good an end as any.
That was the resolve I was feeling. But when I looked into Bella’s eyes, I saw a young woman determined to fight. She picked up a rock in one hand and folded the other into a fist, and I knew my Bella wasn’t ready to go gently into the night; she planned to rage until her last breath.
But didn’t she see that this was a pointless fight. Short of a miracle, there was no way we were getting out of this one alive. She might not have accepted that this was the end, but I had.
So taking a step forward, I did what I had wanted to do from the second I saw her standing within the veil. Yes, we had come together before, but not like this.
I hadn’t slipped my hand around her waist with such need. I hadn’t found the spot at her back where my fingers could urge her forward. I hadn’t shown her this kind of love.
I pulled her in close and kissed her lips that were familiar but somehow new … lips that reminded me of what it was to be happy—really happy. She kissed me right back, as though she’d expected it. Her lips parted, and all at once, we were home. Both of us.
Resolved or not, I decided then and there that this wasn’t the end. We were going to live on, and I was going to get a chance to do that again.
A hundred times more.
And I realized that my despair and my acceptance largely came from being in Hell. Hell was a place without hope, and I was giving in to that, letting its toxicity wrestle away any faith that I could actually win the day.
Bella’s kiss, that cured me of any depression I might have felt. Bella was my hope. She was the thought that kept me going and would keep me going even after death finally managed to dig her finality into me.
But of course, hope is a fickle bitch. Just because you want her to do something doesn’t mean she’s going to come running, and when I heard a childish voice say, “Uwww, gross,” I knew that if I wanted to kiss Bella again, I’d have to kill a god.
Spanking Gods and Raging Thors
I turned to see Zeus and Thor leading the gang through the valley. Gods they may have been, but they were still kids—and kids almost always elect a leader to guide the shenanigans of their little pack. And the kid who most often gets elected? The biggest and baddest of the bunch.
In this case, there were two of them.
Thor walked thro
ugh first, closely followed by Zeus. Even though they were barely five feet tall, I could feel their power coursing through them. They both had the power of lightning and from the crackle and boom that shattered the gashadokuro, I knew that one of them was at least strong enough to destroy a skeleton giant.
Which made him strong enough to kill me.
We were screwed. But Bella’s kiss had reversed my resolve to accept my fate and go gently into the next life … which in this new godless world was literally nothing.
Still holding onto Bella’s hand, I said, “So this is what the mighty gods are, huh? I have to say, I’m less than impressed.”
“What?” Zeus said, all bravado given he had a Thor standing between us. “You dare.”
“Yeah, yeah … I dare.” I scrunched my face up to convey disappointment and disgust. “Look at you … all of you.” I turned my gaze to the others behind the two alpha gods. “Ganging up on a bunch of helpless humans. And for what? Because we crashed your classroom? Listened in as you got schooled by an angel … a lesser being.” I imbued those last words with as much patronizing gumption as I could muster, channeling my inner Judith as I spoke.
“Jean,” Bella whispered, “what are you doing? They’re going to—”
“They’re going to do nothing,” I said, cutting Bella off with a growl. “Well, Thor and Baby Zeus might try something, but then again …” I let the last words trail off. In case you were wondering, this wasn’t my first playground tussle.
Thor lifted his hammer as currents of energy danced on the lodestone’s surface. “You pathetic human … you …”
“Uh, uh, uh, uh.” I lifted a scolding finger. “I’m not done, you sniveling, pathetic, whimpering excuse for a god.”
I heard a chuckle from the back; Loki covered his mouth like he was trying to capture the giggle before it escaped. He failed, and Thor turned around with a growl. “Loki, you shut up!”
His rebuke was punctuated by Odin’s fist slamming hard into the trickster’s arm. “Yeah, shut it, kid.”
“Look, guys,” I said, pulling his attention back to me. “I know that you’ve got the power of lightning and that you could literally smite me with a thought, but what would that prove? That you can cheat. That you can kill a lesser being. That you’re a bully.”
“I am no bully,” the god of lightning growled through gritted teeth as he threw back his long blond locks in a not-unlike-Fabio manner. He was entering full seduction mode, and I could feel him puffing up his appeal with a bit of magic. A charisma boost. Cheater …
Cheater or not, both Judith and Bella groaned their approval.
“Really?” I said, looking at my wife.
“What? He’s hot.”
“And a kid … and trying to kill us.” I turned back to the Norse god. “Then prove it. Fight me fair.”
“What?” Thor cocked his head like a confused golden retriever. “How could I possibly do that? I am a god and you are … are—”
“The human who’s going to put you over my bent knee and spank you the way your one-eyed daddy should have long ago.” More chuckles from behind, and this time Loki let out a howl that the gates of Tartarus couldn’t have held back.
Thor’s acne-free cheeks blushed in embarrassment as his gorgeous blue eyes crackled with unbridled electric fury. “You son of—”
“Language,” Odin cried from behind.
Thor threw his fists to his sides as he stomped like a frustrated toddler. “Odin,” he droned before getting hold of himself and pointing his hammer at me. “Enough of this. Now you die.”
“Again … no,” I said. “Now we fight fair.”
Thor stomped his foot before letting out an exasperated, “How?”
“You put down that hammer, you don’t use your magic … and we see who’s the tough guy. I mean, come on, this should be an easy fight. You are Thor. Impossibly strong, fast, cunning …”
At that last word, I heard Loki heckle, “Hardly.”
Now it was my turn to laugh and I let out a loud, soul-wrenching, exaggerated laugh guaranteed to frustrate any bully. I abruptly ended my laugh before lifting my fist in the air. I said in an exaggerated, I could be a character in Dragon Ball Z tone, “You may be the lightning, but I brought the thunder.” I pounded my fist on my open palm.
“Really?” Bella groaned.
“Really,” I said to her with a wink.
“Very well, knave,” Thor said. “I shall—”
“Knave … good word.”
“Excuse me?” Thor’s lips pursed as his anger grew.
“I said, ‘Knave … good word.’ Didn’t think you had the academic acumen to pull out a word like that.” I flashed him an exaggerated I’m impressed smile. “Now, do we have a deal?”
Thor dropped his hammer and cracked his knuckles. “That we do, human. That we do.”
↔
I pulled out my pistol and handed it and Marty over to Bella. I said to the viper, “Take care of her,” before embellishing a stretch as part of my taunting.
Thor watched in silent fury. Good.
Most people think you have to be bigger or stronger or faster than your opponent to win a fight. Not true. Sure, being those things helps, but they’re in no way the deciding factors. A lot of fights are won because one of you is better at getting into the other’s head. Get in there—infuriate your adversary—and they’ll do the losing for you.
They’ll do something stupid in a fight and if you’re able to capitalize on the opening they’re bound to give you, then bada bing, bada boom … you win.
That’s why a lot of prize fights are preceded by months of bravado thrown about. That’s why Muhammad Ali, Conor McGregor and Bruce Lee always had choice words before a fight.
It was all part of the mental battle that often decides the winner before a single punch is thrown.
From what I’d heard from those who had met Thor, he was a hothead to begin with. But as a kid, he was positively easy to infuriate.
And from what I’d heard from more than one reliable source, I’m a tenth-degree black belt at infuriating.
I knew I had gotten into Thor’s head when he charged at me, head tucked down like a bull trying to impale a matador.
And like a matador, I waited until the last second to move out of the way and trip him up. The blond god tumbled across the floor like a tumbleweed in a hurricane before getting to his feet and charging again, his arms out in an effort to tackle me.
I thought about using the same trick, but having him tumble again and again was no way to win a fight, so I waited until he was nearly on me before pivoting out of the way, grabbing his wrist as he passed me.
In a normal fight, I would use the other guy’s motion to twist them around and as soon as they did a 180, I’d hit them hard in the nose. The combined momentum of their swivel and my fist was usually enough to knock them out.
But fighting a god is not normal, even if it was the teenage version, and instead of being able to draw Thor in a circle, he kept going, pulling me along with him.
GoneGodDamn he was strong. I was using my full weight and barely managed to slow him down, let alone turn him around.
Thor must had realized his advantage, because he suddenly stopped running and jumped back about three feet before kicking me in the behind … as in, literally.
I went down with a thud. The kid was fast. Too fast given his bulk and—
“No fair,” I shouted, channeling my inner schoolyard kid. “You used magic.”
“Did not,” Thor said, but from the way his eyes darted around, I knew he was lying.
Thankfully so did his brother, who immediately shouted, “You did, Brother. I know what you can and cannot do, and that little reverse jump requires the grace of a gazelle. You are no gazelle.”
“But … but …” Thor stammered.
“But nothing,” Odin boomed. “You cheated.”
“So what? He’s just a human,” he said, like my Homo sapien-ness was all the excuse h
e needed.
“A promise is a promise.” Odin clapped his hand twice before he growled, “No magic.”
A blue-and-orange wave emanated out of Odin’s hand and washed over Thor, who tried to swat it away like one might after being hit by an ocean swell.
When the wave passed over him, he let out another exasperated groan. “Not my magic.”
“No cheating,” Odin said, and that was when it hit me what had just happened. Daddy (who was, oddly enough, the same age as Thor) had just stripped him of his magic.
Finally … a fair fight.
↔
But even without magic, Thor was still a god. And that little swivel-fail on my part reminded him of that fact. Instead of charging me, he simply lifted his fists and approached.
Oh yay …
Fighting Godly Power with Godly Power
Our little square-off started out simple enough … I jab, jab, jabbed, finishing my combo with an upper hook. Thor didn’t even try to dodge my blows, happily taking them (literally) on the chin. Then, with a bloodless smile—showing me exactly how much damage I didn’t do—he hit me back. I tried to move out of the way of his fist, but he faked me out (cheeky little lightning bastard) and swung round so his left fist connected with my jaw.
Thor might have been a kid, but he hit like a Mack truck.
I saw stars as I went down, my head spinning at a speed that would rival a fidget spinner. As I fell, I head Bella scream, followed by a sucking sound that I was fairly sure was Judith expressing her disapproval.
“Ouch,” I said, grabbing my jaw. By some miracle it wasn’t broken, thank the GoneGods—well, maybe the gods in front of me—for small miracles.
I got to my feet. Slowly. I lifted my fists, determined not to get hit again. There was no way I was going to win against this kid by trying to match him punch for punch. And from the way he held himself, I knew that trying to tire him out wasn’t going to work, either. Also, he was smiling, which meant he knew he had me, so goading him also wouldn’t work anymore.