22- Honest Intentions

"Hey!" She forced enough air through her lungs to speak, "Maybe the pretty-boy's right! Do we really wanna air out a guy's dirty laundry like this?" Hercules glanced down at her, and though the soppy adoration in his eyes never faltered, his face still apologetically hardened.

"He's trying to air my father's, so I think it's a fair trade!" he called over the wind. Then, lowering his voice he added, "You think he's pretty?"

Meg arched a tweezed brow at him, though any cattiness in the gesture was tempered somewhat by the tangles of hair sweeping around her face. "Before he goes, I'm gonna ask for his hairdresser!"

"I like your hair the way it is!"

The hills of Troy undulated to a halt below them. Though earth, as a rule, did not move, now it seemed to come to a permanent stop, rising and then falling in a roll that gave itself up halfway through. They landed in a wide, black, open plain.

What few trees there were had petrified a very long time ago, and as both Hercules and Ganymede cast their eyes around the landscape, the landscape gazed sightlessly back. They stood in the shadow of a grey temple, so far through its entropic crumble that it was almost a ruin - a gigantic, square block rising from the dirt, the dead king of the world's forgotten mausoleums.

The scarred stone loomed over their heads emptily, toothlessly, and without pomposity. It yawned above them with the same enormity and the same powerlessness as a whale skeleton picked clean at the bottom of the sea. Columns spanned the entrace, worn smooth by time. Wind had taken a millenia to sand down the cornices, weather had knocked the edges from the bricks, and the statues carved across the tympanum looked just the same as those down in the Underworld - their eyes, mouths and noses worn to empty sockets. Ganymede's chest froze over, and he looked down at his feet.

Hercules drew his sword, stepping past the group to approach the empty front doorway. It exhuded darkness the same way candles exhuded light. "Hello?!" he called through. His voice echoed back. Hera, Meg and Phil drew up behind him as he tried to peer through the veil. He muttered to Meg, "You stay here, where it's safe."

"Or," she replied, "I could stick with the professional hero and the all-powerful goddess."

Hera drifted past them, the glow of her body lighting up the inner sanctum. He followed after her.

Ganymede was left alone on the front step. His feet rooted him to the ground and his voice locked itself up in his throat. Phil pulled up alongside him, and regarded him with curiosity.

"Ya know," he began, his tone just as brusque as before, but his eyes softening as he clocked the young man's expression, "It looks a little more authentic if you stick with your marks." Ganymede rounded on him with a snarl, but no words came.

The satyr's expression remained level, and he stood unflinching in the wake of Ganymede's growing distress. "Look, if that big jerk down below's got somethin' on you, you can tell us. Ain't no shame in askin' for help."

Ganymede stared at him as his body numbed and his mind started to calmly consider whether he wanted to start hyperventilating of just stop breathing entirely. The cruel irony of the universe seemed to sear a hole in the back of his shoulders as he tried to focus his eyes on Phil, and as fresh nausea quivered through his stomach. Finally he rattled in a breath and tried to reply with words. The words that picked themselves out of the tangle were instantly humiliating.

Phil sagged with sudden tiredness. "Oh boy."

"Shut up!" Ganymede snapped, breathless, trying to end this. Phil puffed up with fresh anger, stung by the ungrateful rebuttal of his charity.

"Hey, you little twerp! I'm tryin' to meet you in the middle, here!"

Ganymede forced his legs to stagger after the rest of them, his ears flushing a furious green. Phil called after him, "You know that's a bad idea, right?!" Those hooves followed him, and if he could have moved enough to swing a fist or raise his voice, he would have done both.

Hercules had sheathed his sword and now peered through the pinkish darkness at the groaning shadows of the statues carved around them. Ganymede's eyes found the colourless mosaic beneath their feet and glued themselves there, as the gears in his head stuck and churned fruitlessly together. Hercules' voice rang out.

"This place looks abandoned." Meg drifted towards the back of the sanctum, towards the altar, and as if tied by an invisible thread, Hercules drifted after her. Ganymede almost tripped straight into Hera, whose eyes had locked onto the frescos circling their heads with fresh horror. She had seen something new.

All the temples contained carved reliefs of the gods they venerated. The Temple of Zeus had the mightiest war victories and greatest battles stamped into the marble all around the walls; the buildings of Perachora had scenes of marriage ceremonies, festivals and fruitful families carved into them so lovingly they could have been brushed there. And here, too, Hades stood with his arms outstretched and menacing over scenes of plague and war, or gazing out with satisfaction over swathes of unmarked mounds.

This was all to be expected. But also present in these scenes fluttered someone else. A smaller figure, still dressed in the cthonic uniform, holding his caudeceus high, and with gentle eyes and an outstretched arm guided the weeping souls on. Hera's hand flew to her chest.

"But... how?" she asked aloud. The others turned to her. Only Ganymede's dull voice answered, his eyes using her figure as a ladder to pull themselves from the ground.

"Maybe it was before your time?"

"There is no 'before my time'!" she replied. "And surely he would have said something to me!" As she studied the carvings, confused and appalled though she was, she could not help the flame of furious pride that lit in the pit of her stomach.

Hermes was the divine messenger; the god of shepherds; the god of the crossroads... and psychopomp.

"Hey!" Phil's bark snapped them from the carvings and drew them back to the altar behind them. "Found something over here!"

"Proof?" Hercules stepped closer. Hera turned, and her presence drew back the curtain of darkness that covered the blunt and brutal stone block. Ganymede jolted after them.

"No!" he cried, "Wait!"

The altar lay bare, but for a long, black smear slicing it down the middle. Dried and now forever bound to the porous rock, the bloodstain filled the centre of the slab and streaked down to the ground like a carpet of crawling roots. The shape, thick and sharp, then trailing down to nothingness, showed the single fall of a single body. Stamped alongside it lay a single handprint; a victim had braced himself still, and had not struggled.

The temple stood in apathy, but the altar somehow seemed to hold a depth to it, as if it really had absorbed something of the life that had terminated against it.

A clattering sound echoed through the columns as Hercules stooped low and picked up a fallen dagger - its blade cheap, bent and poorly-made. As he held it up to the light, it snapped in half. Ganymede's hand clamped over his mouth as his body locked solid and yet also tried to vomit. Meg passed close to him and hovered a hand near his shoulder, but while a ripple of sympathy did pass - awkwardly and uncertainly - through the crowd, it was Phil who spoke first.

"As expected," he said, though he didn't sound particularly triumphant. "No death cult. Can we get outta this place now? It's givin' me the heebie-jeebies."

Hercules stormed towards the exit, aiming for the red-tinged sunlight. One-by-one, the others joined him, walking in single-file and keeping their distance.

"Hercules-" Hera spoke gently, moving after him with a flutter of her veils and reaching out for him - but not quite touching him, "I didn't know-" Hercules span around a jabbed a finger past her, ignoring her to address the bedraggled ghoul now managing to break his way through the black doorway to join them in the light.

"So it was a lie! You've got some nerve, telling such a gross lie to my mom - and worse, getting her to tell me!"

Ganymede's face contorted with a snakelike, hissing rage. "H-hey man!" He didn't - and couldn't - take a step outside of the temple. His sandals had glued themselves to the stone. "It's the truth! A-and what about Hermes, huh?! You just gonna leave him?!"

"I don't know about Hermes!" Hercules' voice flattened the dirt and drowned out whatever high-pitched volume Ganymede could still summon. "I don't know about most of this stuff! But I do know that I'm getting really sick and tired of you guys trying to ruin the lives of me and my family!"

Electrocuted by a sudden loathing, though he couldn't be bothered by now to identify exactly what he loathed most, Ganymede's body released him from its prison and allowed him to stagger out into the reddening light. He wanted to be bigger and louder than everyone here, to scream them into listening to him, but like a nightmare he could barely even talk. His legs pumped him forward, picking up a clumsy speed, towards Hercules. Hercules kept shouting at him.

"So I'm sorry if you died out here, okay?!" He towered over Ganymede as he drew closer, but his volume continued to batter him. "And I'm sorry for whatever I did that means I'm now your mark!" Ganymede's ears rang, his mouth dried, and hatred rushed to his fingertips. "But whatever I might have done to you, I'm ending it here!"

Ganymede heard himself scream as Hercules' face filled up his vision, "LIKE FATHER LIKE SON!!"

Hercules' fist slammed into him before either of them had a chance to react, the impact so immense that for a moment Ganymede thought the world had ended on top of him. Like a cannonball, he was jettisoned back into the temple, the darkness swallowing him whole, until the altar broke his trajectory hard enough to break him into all his pieces.

Eyes widening with guilt, Hercules flexed his muscles and made to follow him. "Ah, geez!" Phil placed a hand on his stomach.

"Woah, hold on, kid. Let's go home. I think we all need a moment to cool our heads." It was not this eighteen-year-old's job to navigate something like this, and if he had to choose between his surrogate kid and the vicious little con-artist screaming in his face, he knew his first pick. Hera looked towards the temple, then towards her son.

Hercules turned away from her. "Not now, Mom."

Hades sighed over his checklist. Ticking off one item after another, he ignored the pattering of his minions' nervous claws. "So you sent off the change-of-address forms, cancelled the mail, cancelled the cable-"

"Er, not quite..." Panic winced. "We were on a call with those guys for hours, though." Hades glanced up, sniffed, then checked off the next item. The cigar on the arm of his throne had burned down to a stub.

"Ah, you can only do so much. You find a sitter for the dog?"

"Nobody had a big enough back yard."

"Damn. Well-" The parchment jumped from his hands and rolled itself up in midair, vanishing in a puff of smoke. "In that case he's Thebes' problem."

Pain and Panic exchanged their usual glance. He sighed. "What is it?" They twitched, then Pain approached with a shivering tail.

"It's just... you seem pretty calm about all this, Your Most Vindictiveness..."

"A-and we're both very proud of you!" Panic piped up, "We told you those deep-breathing exercises would pay off!"

A shadow fell across their faces. Hades rose from his throne, his expression solid aside from the widening of his yellow eyes. They scrambled backwards, tails tangling together, as the smell of burning gasoline began to fill the room.

"What... you want me to explode?" he asked. His voice sliced through the air, bouncing off the walls and floor, but quavered as he wrestled with its volume. "You want fireworks? You wanna show?" Flames burst across his shoulders. "Would that make you boys feel better?!"

"N-no, Lord Hades!" they wailed, pressing themselves to the ground.

"Then whaddaya want, huh?!" His arms raised and flames engulfed his body, lunging into every sweeping gesture. "Cuz I've got nothing! Else! Left!" They threw themselves behind the stone table as a pillar of fire burst across the room. Pain was too slow, but Panic grabbed him and pulled him to cover.

Hades heaved in heavy breaths, snarling, his eyes snapping from wall to wall. Their heads appeared one after the other from behind the table, and as they checked for safety, his anger drifted away - though he was no happier for its absence. He lowered himself back down to his throne and his face sank into his hands.

"I'm sorry, boys," he said as he pressed into the bridge of his nose. "I've done all I can - we're sunk. Unless the kid's in the business of casting miracles, we're all gonna fry." He heard only silence. After a moment of it, he raised his head. "What?" They blinked at him, then disappeared behind the table to reappear at his feet.

"You said 'sorry'," said Pain. Hades glared at him.

Panic beamed, his eyes thinning, his beak and spines lifting in the smuggest smile he'd ever seen the creature make. "Yeah you did." Hades lifted his hands and began to reach for him, claws outstretched, to strangle him, until Pain spoke again.

"You still want us to go get the kid from Thebes?" It broke his concentration.

"I guess so. I mean, what else is there left to do, right?"

The room shook suddenly around them. Hades grabbed for the wall as Pain and Panic grabbed for each other and gravel rushed down from the ceiling. The mirror he had summoned so many times before suddenly unfurled itself before them. It built itself up from the floor piece by piece, but stretched to insupportable proportions - the iron groaned, springing at the rivets, until it spanned the width of the entire room.

This time, when Zeus' voice boomed throughout the chamber, he was not alone.

A fleet of chariots armed with spears, shields and the bloodthirsty howls of soldiers spread behind the breadth of Zeus' mighty shoulders. Their wheels curdled the clouds beneath them, churning them up into scarlet tatters, and from those tatters rose inhuman shapes, filled with horns, claws and groaning mouths. Though he couldn't have said why, Hades flung the smoke of his robe out to hide Pain and Panic behind him.

"I wasn't even sure this call would go through!" Zeus called triumphantly as the horns of war sounded behind him. The gods - Hades recognised Ares, Athena and many others in his army, but not the hunger in their eyes. Even on Zeus that particular brand of viciousness was unfamiliar. Hades' teeth formed a semblance of a grimace, but by now it seemed barely worth it to pretend.

"Whaddaya want, huh? You ring me up just to give an official declaration of war?"

"Ha! Zeus' laugh broke from him like a cannonball. "I always did appreciate your sense of humour!" Hades' eyes scanned between him, his gods, and the clouds that seemed to twist among them before the wind ripped them away. He could have sworn he heard muttering through the feed, like a voice formed out of scuttling roach legs.

"Looks like we've got something in common after all," he replied. Then, nodding to the clouds; "New friends?"

"Oh, never mind them!" Zeus beamed and lashed the reins of his golden chariot.

The whole mass banked at once, and Hades watched the army turn down from the clouds and stream towards the earth. A tingle of fear swept out from his chest as, all at once, he felt himself become a fox trapped in the back of its own den. They would surge through his front doors, spears pointed forwards, and immortality wouldn't make that hurt any less. A hand grabbed the side of the screen and once again Zeus' face filled the room. Through a broad smile and lungs puffed up with self-congratulation, he asked one question.

"How would you like to make a trade?"

The gods had passed into the mortal realm now, and all the world now sat simmering in a hot, red glow. It burned from the screen like the inside of an oven and filled the greyness of the Underworld with an unwanted light. Hades backed away from it.

"What the Hell do I have that you could possibly want?" he asked.

"Not a whole lot!" Zeus admitted with laughter. "But nobody would ever accuse the almighty Zeus of being..." With a frown, he turned briefly to Hephaestus - whose kindly face now sat with solid, red-eyed fury. "What's the opposite of merciful?"

Hades responded for him. "'Cruel'."

"Right! Nobody would ever accuse me of being cruel! So!" Hooking the straining bridles of his chariot over gigantic forearms, he rubbed his hands together, "I'm looking to be reasonable! Just one teeny-tiny favour and maybe I can make all of this go away! After all, you are my brother!"

Hades stared at him, his nose curling. Zeus continued.

"I can call them all off, Hades! I could even talk Hera into forgiving you for all that you ever did to our family! I'll let you keep your job-"

"How kind," Hades snarled.

"- Even your little pets!"

Pain and Panic held each other tighter behind his robe.

"All I'd want is one little concession! That seems reasonable, doesn't it?"

The chariots raced on. It would take them less than a day to make it to him; the crimson landmarks of the countryside whipped past Hades' eyes like sand streaming through his own personal hourglass. The silence of the Underworld, as stagnant as its waters might have been, looked good in comparison to all those sword-tips glinting in the merciless sunlight on the other side of the mirror.

He swallowed, then glanced down at the shaking imps hiding in his tunic. They caught his eye, and he nodded towards a crack in the wall - one of their many hidden passageways. At first they didn't move, and their disobedience caused his flames to jump red, but then he caught the look in their eyes. For one moment, Zeus turned from the mirror to focus on his horses, granting him a single, scant second to mutter to them, "Hey, I'll be fine. Go get the kid."

Zeus' eyes snapped back to them, and he straightened up. Hades filled his lungs and asked, "What if I refuse?" His voice hit a pitch he didn't appreciate.

"If you refuse," Zeus chuckled, then leaned in close to the mirror. His face, its red eyes, its unnatural mirth, filled the chamber as Pain and Panic dashed to the wall.