To 8Ball3- I love writing Storm and Lou shenanigans! ^_^
To readingbooksforlife- Thank you! ^_^ I had to do it :P Storm grew up with Lou, she's seen all kinds of stupid ideas. Lester really takes the cake though XD
To Imagine Coldplay- Frank stepped UP! My boy! I'm so proud! :D
"They're everywhere!"
"SHIELDS UP!"
"READY PILA!"
"Lou, get down!" Hazel cried. The Fourth stood in a square, a row of shields on each side, pila cocked back, ready to throw. Tarquin's forces filed in from all four directions, taking their time to revel in their trapped prey. Hazel and Arion were on the outside. As was Louisa. She stood alone, away from the formation, tapping her fingers on her chin. "Lou!" Hazel called again.
"NOW!" The centurion bellowed. Pila whistled through the air. More met targets than didn't, but these ghouls had an annoying habit of not dying. Some went down, close enough to be pierced under the force of the throw. Others, further back, not so much, the Imperial gold points leaving angry red welts smoking on their mottled skin. Zombies were easier targets to destroy, in the sense that they were easier to dispatch. They crumbled to ash under the onslaught, legionnaires calling out apologies to old comrades.
Louisa raised her hands, glowering at the northern advance. A ghoul snapped its slathering jaws at her, almost smiling.
"Lou, if you're going to do something, do it now!" Hazel demanded. Louisa half-heard her, busy listening to the ghouls. Their numbers ran the length of the streets, in all directions, packed in like sardines. She had to get as many of them as she could, she had to get them to come in more. Hazel was yelling at her, Arion snorting protests as well. Louisa closed her eyes, biting her lower lip as she let the rushing fill her ears. Miles and miles of sewers ran under the city and the camp. Tarquin thought he could use the system against them? Louisa could play that game too.
She opened her eyes, a ghoul's hand less than a foot from her face. She shoved her hands down.
The cohort watched, mystified, as the streets bowed all around them, except for the bit they stood on. It swelled and strained and then caved to roaring geysers of sewer water. They shot higher than the rooftops, the undead disintegrating on impact. It was not freshwater- the stench alone was a dead giveaway- but it worked. All four streets that the ghouls and zombies were sardined on had succumbed to the sewage geysers, as wide as the streets were long.
Louisa groaned and fell to one knee, putting her hand out to catch herself. The water shut off, crashing back into the sewers, splashing violently across the remaining ground and the fronts of houses.
"We are never going to get that smell out." One of the legionnaires groaned. Hazel recognised her as Olive, daughter of Hygeia.
"Hey, Lou?" Another legionnaire- Matthew, legacy of Vulcan- called. He shifted in his armour, looking up at the rooftops. "You OK?" Louisa bowed her head, shoulders heaving as she caught her breath. After a moment, she forced herself to her feet, slowly and unsteady, but she was up. Matthew forced a smile and pointed up. "I think you made him mad."
Everyone followed the point.
On the rooftop, examining the destruction behind destroying his forces, was the purple-eyed skeletal remains of Tarquin. His skull turned, an unending grin etched over bone, purple smoke writhing angrily around him.
"Daughter of Neptune." He called.
"Yeah, what?" Louisa huffed, shielding her eyes to look up at him.
"You're causing me some trouble."
"I'm aware of that."
"Then, perhaps, are you also aware that you will pay for your misdeeds?"
"Ugh." Louisa covered her eyes completely, for the count of three. "Take a number, buddy. I'm busy."
"As am I." Tarquin jumped. Louisa drew her sword. The undead king landed on the very edge of the undestroyed square, the cobblestone cracking beneath his feet. He straightened, fury broiling through the purple gas. Louisa cocked her head, watching it for a moment. "You are in my way," Tarquin snarled, "and for that-"
"Ah, I know what that reminds me of!" Louisa interrupted, smacking her own forehead. "You're like Koffin'!"
"I'm not co- I'm not coughing. I have no lungs to cough!"
"No, no. Dumbass. Koffin'. The Pokémon."
"Pokey-mon? What games are you playing, seaspawn?"
"Mostly Ruby."
"What? You have rubies?"
"Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, Leaf Green, Fire Red… ooh, I've got Yellow as well, that really old one. I did have a couple of the others, but Mom stole them…"
"What are you on about?"
"I've got some of the newer ones as well, but there's these emperors 'n' this weird skeleton man… I ain't had the chance ta play them, these bastards keep gettin' in my way."
"You're in my way." Tarquin growled.
"I heard." Louisa nodded, examining her sword, bored. She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. "OK." She eventually said, taking a breath and setting her shoulders. She readied her sword and stared down the king. "I ain't happy until I've got a Vaporeon 'n' you're takin' up my Pokémon time."
"And I have a harpy to find. She has something of mine."
"You want that harpy, ya gonna have to get through me."
Tarquin could not stop grinning, one of the downsides of having no flesh, but it seemed he did smile this time.
"That's the idea."
The emperors stayed silent for the count of five. Finally, Caligula called over his shoulder: "Gregorix!" One of the Germani jogged forward.
"Lord?" He grunted.
"The troops are to stay where they are." Caligula instructed. "No interference while Commodus and I kill Praetor Zhang and his little pet god. Understood?" Gregorix studied Apollo, silently wrestling with his ideas of honour. Single combat was good. Single combat against a wounded warrior and a zombie-infected weakling, however, was not much of a victory.
"Very well, my lord."
Frank faced the remaining legionnaires.
"Find Hazel and Lou. Defend the city from Tarquin." Hannibal trumpeted in protest. "You too, buddy. No elephants are going to die today." Hannibal huffed. The demigods obviously didn't like it either, but they were too well-trained to disobey a direct order. They retreated into the tunnel with the elephant and the legion's standard, leaving Frank and Apollo alone.
While the emperors climbed down from their chariot, Frank turned to Apollo and wrapped him in a sweaty, bloody embrace. Apollo had always figured Frank was a hugger, so this came as no surprise to him. Not until Frank whispered in his ear: "You're interfering with my plan. When I say 'time's up', I don't care where you are or how the fight is going, I want you to run away from me as fast as you can. That's an order." He clapped Apollo on the back, semi-knocking the wind out of him, and let go.
Apollo wanted to protest, he could feel the words simmering in his throat. He hadn't come here to run away on command- he'd be damned if he had to watch someone else die for his sake.
On the other hand, he knew nothing of Frank's plan. He would have to wait and see what he had in mind. Then he would decide what he would do.
Besides, if they stood any chance of winning a death match against the emperors, it would not be on account of their superior strength and charming personalities. They were going to need some serious, industrial-strength cheating.
The emperors strode across the scorched tarmac, their armour increasingly hideous the closer they got.
"Well," Caligula gave a smile as bright and cold as the diamonds in his armour, "shall we?" Next to him, Commodus shed his gauntlets, his hands huge and calloused, as though he had punching brick walls in his spare time. Apollo could hardly believe he used to hold those hands with affection.
"Caligula, you take Zhang. I'll take Apollo. I don't need my eyesight to find him, I'll just follow my ears. He'll be the one whimpering."
Frank drew his sword. Blood still oozed from his shoulder. His other hand brushed the pouch that held his firewood.
"So, we're clear on the rules." He said. "There aren't any. We kill you, we win." Before the emperors could make any snide remarks, Frank gestured at them. "Come and get it."
Louisa's shoulder made a funny crunching sound as she hit the side of a building. Bricks and mortar collapsed around her and she fell in with them, landing on a heap of rubble. There was a sticky red substance on the bricks, a coppery scent tickling her nose.
"Get up, daughter of Neptune. You have caused too much trouble to not die on your feet." Louisa silently cursed him, spitting out blood. She shifted her weight on her good arm, pushing herself up. The wrecked, sewage-sodden square see-sawed and tilted rapidly around her. Ringing screamed in her ears as she stood, sliding on the debris.
Tarquin stood in the street, his smoky purple eyes and skeleton grin fixed on her and only here. "You will make a wonderful addition to my army." He decided, raising his skeletal hand in her direction. "Just give in."
"No." She croaked, blood falling down her chin. "No, I won't."
"Mm. You heroes, so predictable. So disappointing."
"Could say… the same… about you." She managed a crimson-soaked smirk, hobbling out of the rubble. Her right arm hung at her side, useless. Her left held her ribs. She could not walk straight, she knew that, tottering on aching legs like a drunk.
Tarquin gave a dry, unimpressed laugh.
"I disappoint you?"
"You… can only… throw me… through walls… so borin'." She nodded, only once, fiery arcs of pain zipping up and down her shoulders with the movement. Tarquin stared at her.
"You will die today. You will die at my hand, in front of your comrades," he swung an arm in the direction of the cohort, "and then I'll kill them. You won't be able to stop me." Louisa spat out blood, smiling again.
"If you say so."
She had lost her sword. Her idea had been to hold him off, keep him away from Ella, from Hazel and Arion, from the Fourth. She would take the brunt again, as she had always done.
Except she forgot he could throw people with his mind. She remembered, once she had been thrown through someone's living room window and crashed into their coffee table- coffee tables hated her as much as birds did- but it was a bit late then. She lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. That was a bit of a dumbass move, she told herself. Yeah, well, I'm tired. Fuck off. Oh, hey, where's your sword?
She tried calling it back to her, like she had done in his tomb. The trick to that though was that she had to see it or know where it was. She had tried talking her father into making it like Mjolnir and then tried talking him into watching Marvel movies when he had no idea what she was on about. But no such luck.
Rolling on her side, she swore quietly. Tarquin was waiting for her when she climbed back out the window, holding a leg of the coffee table. She threw it at him, watching it fly away at a wave of his hand.
"That's rude." She had claimed.
"Tell that to your Pokey-Men." Tarquin mocked. Louisa blinked at him. She didn't have the energy to correct him, imagining stomping his rotten teeth in instead.
Her gaze drifted past him, an idea ticking over in her mind. She moved without realising, planting her feet shoulder-width apart, spreading her arms. She focused on the building behind him, curling her fists as her stomach tightened. She brought her arms around, pulling on something only she could feel.
The house constricted, between the floors, as if someone had yanked a belt taut around it. Louisa took a step back, then another, battling with invisible ropes of her own conjuring. Masonry creaked and cracked, snapping and crushing. The upper floor jolted, tiles slipping from the roof and smashing on the cobblestone. Then it fell forward. The whole thing took her no more than three seconds, but the effort echoed in her limbs in burning pins and needles. Tarquin turned in time to get the top half of a house land on his head.
Louisa gave a croaky laugh, swallowing sick.
She didn't have time to think of a pun- something about putting a roof over his head, maybe. The pile of bricks, glass and furniture shifted and rumbled. Tarquin expelled the debris away from him, roaring, launching himself from it.
"Is that the best you've got?" He demanded, half-mocking, half-furious. Louisa shrugged a shoulder, gave an unhelpful noise that was neither agreeing nor disagreeing. That's how she ended up flying through another wall, and then another when she threw a DVD player at him, then another when she blew up the plumbing in all the houses and tried to drown/freeze/tear him apart with it. She tried hitting him with green light, except it was more of a fizzle. He cackled delightedly, waving his hand again. This wall was not so friendly. Her shoulder crunched. There was blood.
You will die today, he said. She was fine with that. But she wasn't dying until he was dying, so this could take a while.
She smiled at him, blood dribbling down her chin so more, staining her armour.
"Come on, Tarquin. I've seen scarier Halloween props than you."
Staying out of reach of a blind opponent should have been easy, right?
WRONG!
Commodus was only ten yards away when Apollo shot at him. Somehow, the emperor dodged the missile, rushed in and yanked the bow from Apollo's grasp. He broke the weapon over his knee.
"RUDE!" Apollo cried- not how he should have spent that millisecond. Commodus punched him square in the chest. Apollo fell, winded, onto his butt, hard. His lungs were on fire, sternum throbbing- a hit like that should have killed him. Had his godly strength decided to make a last minute appearance? If it had, he squandered the opportunity to strike back, too busy crawling away and crying in pain.
"You see?" Commodus laughed, facing his troops. "He's always the one whimpering!" His followers cheered, Commodus wasting valuable time basking in their adulation. He could not help being a showman. He also must have known Apollo wasn't going anywhere.
Apollo glanced over at Frank. He and Caligula circled each other, occasionally trading blows, testing each other's defences. With the arrowheads in his shoulder, Frank had no choice but to favour his left side, moving stiffly and leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the tarmac.
Caligula prowled around him, supremely confident, wearing the same self-satisfied smile as when he had tried to impale Jason Grace in the back. Apollo had had nightmares about that smile.
Those nightmares, that smile, the memory of that night, shook Apollo from his stupor. He managed to stand, albeit on legs somehow simultaneously made of concrete and jelly. He fumbled for his sword, then remembered he didn't have one. His only weapon was his ukulele. Playing a song for an enemy hunting him by sound did not seem like the best idea, but he still grabbed the instrument by the fret board.
Commodus must have heard the strings twang. He turned with a broad grin, drawing his sword. Despite the weight of his jewel-laden gold armour, he moved much too quickly. Apollo hadn't even decided what Dean Martin number to play when the emperor jabbed at him, nearly opening his stomach. The point of the blade sparked on the bronze body of his ukulele.
With both hands, Commodus raised his sword overhead to cleave Apollo in two. Apollo lunged forward, doing the only thing that came to mind- he poked the emperor in the gut with his instrument.
"Haha!" He declared. Then he realised his mistake. Ukuleles with rounded bottoms could not poke guts heavily armour with gold and rubies. "Oh." He said brilliantly.
Commodus's counter-strike would have killed him had he not been laughing so hard. Apollo dived to the side as the sword came down, sinking into the tarmac softened by explosions and lightning.
Apollo tried a new tactic- while Commodus tried to tug his sword free, Apollo charged him, slamming into him. It was not a painless experience and he would have bruises in the shape of precious gems, but he succeeded in shoving the emperor off-balance. He staggered and landed on his armour-plated rear, leaving his sword quivering in the ground.
He took a step back, breathing hard. Someone pressed against his back and he yelped, fearing Caligula was about to spear him.
But it was only Frank. Caligula stood about twenty feet away, cursing as he wiped gravel from his eyes.
"Remember what I said." Frank urged.
"Why are you doing this?" Apollo wheezed.
"It's the only way. If we're lucky, we're buying time."
"Buying time?"
"For godly help to arrive. That's still happening, right?" Apollo gulped nervously. Frank turned his head, a terrifying angry bear look burning in his eyes. "Apollo," he almost-growled, "please tell me you did the ritual."
"I did." Apollo squeaked. Frank nodded once, but Apollo still had visions of a Kodiak bear chomping his head off.
"Then we're buying time."
"And, um, if help doesn't arrive?"
"Then you'll have to trust me. Do what I said, get out of the tunnel on my cue." Apollo didn't understand- they weren't in the tunnel.
But their chat time had ended. The emperors were ready for round two.
"Gravel in the eyes, Zhang?" Caligula snarled. "Really?" Their blades crossed as Caligula pushed Frank towards the mouth of the tunnel. Or… was Frank letting himself be pushed?
Commodus finally retrieved his sword.
"Alright, Apollo." He growled. "This has been fun, but you need to die now."
