The Future of Olympus
THE HEAT COMING OFF the reptile's plated hide kept Andre warm as he scoped through the damp walls of the Labyrinth. Years ago, some demigods had disabled the grand construction by killing the designer, Daedalus. Or, at least, that was the information Andre acquired from his grandmamma when he was a simple, young toddler.
At the time, insects like spiders and iguanas crawled in the wall and fed on the weak and helpless, maybe a child of Athena, they feared spiders. However, a simple gray iguana couldn't stand against the magnitude of the beast Andre was sited upon. Phlogiston, as he named it, was the dragon he, himself created through the gifts acquired from his father's side. It was simple… He was a demititan. Half titan, half demigod.
He slid through other wide corridors, quite wide considering Phlogiston's wing span spread at around thirty feet. The Labyrinth had been spreading, following the movements of the tectonic plates to either side, but at the same time, staying with western civilization. With a glance to the right, Phlogiston picked up Andre's order to make a right on the next entrance.
Again, there was a crack along the walls and a sort of wet, hissing sound; sort of like a snake. Andre ignored it as they turned right and flew straight forward. He could already see the morning light peering through an opening around ninety feet away.
Forty feet, ten feet… Andre shot his hand forward with an open palm and a gush of red air burst the wall open and wide enough for Phlogiston and he. That was another gift, or power from his father. In simple words, Pyrokinesis.
Phlogiston huffed out a column of fire from his throat in unison as the breached out into the grey morning.
The grassland of South Dakota reminded Andre of the days with his grandmamma. When he had been 7 years old, she told Andre the tales about the demigods that protected Olympus, about the heroes that risked their lives to defeat the giants. And she always seemed to make it seem like a bad thing, as if she didn't appreciate their heroism. Andre just felt indifferent about them now.
As they flew over Minnesota, Andre viewed rows of houses and buildings below him. It all looked like a blur, but Andre remembered the destruction that had been in the states three years behind. Phlogiston picked up speed with a flap of his thorny wings. He had to be in New York by 5:00 a.m.; he was two hours ahead of schedule and already approaching Michigan.
"Stay here Phlogiston," Andre commanded as he slid off the dragon's side. Phlogiston turned around slowly and met Andre's red, fiery eyes with his own green, serpent like eyes.
Andre understood, "Fine, you can come back later."
With that, dust and trash picked up under the red, brown dragon's wings, and it was gone in an instant.
Andre saw Phlogiston flying away and when he could no longer see the dragon's glow in the morning sun, he walked out of the alley behind the city building.
"Young man," Andre heard behind one of the trash bins. "Do you have any change to spare?"
A bearded man poked his head out behind the green trash bin. The homeless were everywhere at the time and Andre wasn't sure how much that guy had seen through the mist.
"I swear I won't tell the press about your reptile friend if you lend me a twenty," the greedy old man exited his cardboard home with a cane in one of his hands and a ragged jacket on his back.
"You saw Phlogiston?" asked Andre while scowling. That just won't do…
The homeless man's expression tightened as he smiled, reveling low dental care. "So that's his name? Phlogiston? I'm sure the press would like to hear about it. Imagine that: Phlogiston the Dragon, in the cover of the New York Times magazine."
"Say what you want… They'll just think you're a crazy, old man."
He grinned, "Suit yourself."
The mortals won't believe him, Andre thought to himself as he walked the opposite direction from homeless person. Yes, mortals can't see through the mist, even if he does have a picture–
Something, a hard object, clipped Andre behind the head. He knew… The old man's cane.
"Punk, I warned you about the money. I'll get it one way or another." Once more, before Andre could turn around, the angry, old man beat his cane on Andre's head.
Blood pumped up to his head, and Andre inhaled once… He caught the old man's next blow over his head and stood up to his full height. He easily passed a few inches over the old man.
The raggedy man let go off the cane and aimed his foot for Andre's genitals. That will not do…
With a twist, Andre blocked the kick with his right knee and turned his torso, slamming the head of the cane on the old man's temple.
The fight was over and he had to get up to the Empire State Building just across the street…
(A/N: Please review. Thanks everyone!)