I'm so sorry, so very sorry for taking too long to update. Before I knew it, I had very little progress but so many spells of staring dumbly at nothing in particular. All I could do was think about nothing except a possible scene of Bruce and Diana talking… just interacting thru mindless words… no loving contact connecting them… just their lips moving monotonously… Batman then turning away… Diana flying to the light…
Mmm… that could happen… I wonder…
Enjoy!
0000000000000000000
(Continuation of the second test: God of Wealth)
Plop… swish… plop… swish… plop… swish…
Bruce tried not to stare at the paddle that Charon was using to scull the wobbly boat down the murky waters that snaked along the Underworld's sea of treacherous passages. He wanted so badly to close his eyes, to stop dimming his addled brain and focus on Diana.
He turned his eyes away from Charon's skeletal arm and crooked paddle, looked up. Stalactites of gray stones aimed at him, its sharp edges glinting at him forebodingly. He sighed and looked to the sides that bordered the still river. Sitting at the edge of the rocky grounds were occasional green imps and gritty, red devils returning his stare.
If they didn't look so godawful, they could have made adequate Christmas' baubles.
He kept composed, relaxed when he noticed them flapping their wings. Charon saw them jeering in his direction, and he barked at them, "Atempt… toooo fly nir… my boat… rownd twooo… of butt-belt iz juz rownd… the Styx's bend!"
Bruce smirked. "Round two?"
Since doing nothing but listening to the plopping of waters made him drowsy, he might as well babble and question Charon, hoping that this method might boost his very little knowledge of the Underworld's deadfalls, if there was any. In retrospect, Bruce knew that there would be a lot of pitfalls.
This was the Underworld. Could he ever expect a peaceful trail of contended dead people letting him pass with no trouble? Same goes for the approaching encounter with Cerberus and the unavoidable brawl against the blue imps later on. He could never expect good things lighting his way here. Plus, menace and treason were just as inevitable as the stink of death rising to his nose now.
Rubbing his nose, Bruce could tell that Charon rarely spoke to his doomed passengers. Charon shifted uneasily, his shoulders wobbling upward and downward, his neck turning slightly so his hollow eye could steal a glance at the Batman.
Batman calmly propped his right leg over his other, his eyes not glancing at Charon's uneasy twitches. Charon's straw hat, which was a very disturbing shade of brownish green, nearly fluttered off his rust-colored skull as his head continued to reel back and forth.
Blowing out an unhappy sigh, Charon muttered, "Nudnikz dey rrrr… zee no relevance in deir exiztenze… dey rrr as annoyin… az… flies zwarmin… rownd ded mortalz…"
Bruce nearly hit his head on the boat's edge when it bobbed a bit. He was bending forward so that he could understand Charon's very, very eccentric accent. Charon's 's' was pronounced as 'z'… and he uttered each word with a prolonged finish. Bruce didn't hear Charon's query as he was wondering if Charon was either German or Polish. He finally realized that Charon stopped oaring and was looking at Bruce, exasperation barely evident in his skeletal features, considering that he didn't have eyebrows.
"What?"
Charon's croaky, hollow voice paused before reiterating his question. "Hu zent yooo? Yooo du not zeem… ded. Y boder… meee?"
After saying that, Charon resumed his rowing but his earless head was slanted, as if waiting for a reply.
Bruce ran his eyes up and down Charon's dead-emaciated back. He then said, "Limitless dead souls are being conveyed to Tartarus. I don't see myself as a bother to you to be quite frank."
Charon nodded his head repeatedly, slowly. "Yooo… remind… meee of… Herculez tho…"
"Hercules?"
"Yezz… Herculez…"
Batman waited for Charon to continue, but it never came. Apparently Charon wasn't the smartest being in the Mythology realm. Bruce imagined Charon as an entity born of nothing more than remains of segregated human bones. Maybe even those of devils'. Bruce stared at Charon's humanly semblance and doubted he had a hipbone of a goblin.
After a moment's silence, Batman said, "It's quite a wonder for you to remember Hercules… considering he went through here more than a millennium ago. And I doubt you've scrutinized your passengers first before relocating them to the other end. It's either your back's to me or vice versa.."
"Herculez…?"
Plop… swish… plop… swish… plop…
Batman imagined himself wringing Charon's bony neck out of sheer impatience.
Sighing, Batman asked, "Why did you say I reminded you of Hercules then?"
Stretch of silence pierced the hot gloom, and more daydreams of Batman kicking Charon's bony ass off the rickety boat flooded Bruce's head. He reckoned he could reach Tartarus in less than a minute—a feat Charon seemed incapable of. Batman glanced at the watch and saw that six minutes have passed.
In addition, did he look anything like Hercules? He touched his face in hope that his impending fear would never be confirmed. He growled inwardly, dismissed his inconsequential worry. How could he possibly know what Hercules looked like?
The greatest hero of Greece could either be swimming in a cesspool of eternal torment here in the Underworld or be spotted dancing and wallowing in wine, ambrosia, and nymphs in Olympia at this very moment. A supreme being's life wasn't as farfetched as the mortal's celebrity-orgies. And Bruce didn't give a shit about it, as it was highly useless to waste his time by delving into a paranormal similarity that could have intoxicated a Greek Mythology buff to death.
Nevertheless, he outlined his nose with his fingers. He'd seen many supposed images of Hercules' fair-colored hair, aquiline nose, massive physique, and many stories of Hercules' instances of wielding beefy force rather than applying logical means to fend off adversaries only meant that Bruce Wayne wasn't a- millennium-old descendent of an ancient Greek hero.
Much less he resembled Hercules' Hellenic features.
Batman was about to dismiss the question when Charon softly said, "Not only… Herculez… Orpheuz too… many alive… hav come… and… go. But… most lost… sumding… of precious value… to them…"
Bruce could feel frigid hands clutching his speeding heart, and he wondered if nicotine or booze could have actually eased his frazzled nerves right now. He breathed in deeply, and muttered, "Got any good advice?"
"Wat… iz your… purrrpose…?"
Batman's brow arched questioningly, but he answered anyway, "To scrounge something from Hades."
A pause.
"Haydz… yooo say?" His rowing slowed a bit before he continued, "He'z not hiiir…"
Bruce's eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. "Then where is he?"
"D god never tellz… But… hiz wife izz in her chamberrr…"
Bruce opened his mouth to further ask about Hades' absence—why didn't the gods tell him anything about it?—but the boat skidded to a sudden halt that Bruce had to leap immediately from the boat to the hard ground before he could stumble over the edge and into the disgusting water that looked more like a river of bile than clear H2O. He growled inaudibly to himself, then he instinctively thanked Charon.
"Nooo human shuld dank meee… I bring… yooo to eteeernal torment''z gayt…"
000000000000000000
"You don't smell like rotten mortal…" A growl alerted Bruce to look up and feel for his Batarang. He made sure that the posies Artemis gave him were securely bound inside a water-filled pouch tied to his belt. His feet were poised ready, either to jump to safer clearing when necessary or to attack the gargantuan, ugly figure that stood beside a wrought-iron rusty gate that was Tartarus.
He scowled at it… them…?
Black, shorthaired fur barely shone with appealing sheen as the creature stood up in all fours; its choppers was set in a perpetual grimace; yellow drool dripped from its wrinkled muzzle; and its three pairs of eyes watched him carefully.
Returning their burning gaze, Bruce noticed the head attached to his farthest left was not intently examining him. And oddly, it had… long eyelashes…?
He was snapped back to the present when the dog-head in the middle growled in a low voice, "Are you here to be our dinner?"
Batman inched to the side, but Cerberus followed his deliberately slow move. "What makes you think so?"
Batman slid to the right. Cerberus mimicked him.
The head to his right answered, "You are of the living. You are not allowed here. No living mortal should ever come through here unless Hades gives you permission. And we don't see any. So, you must be food."
When it inched closer, Batman stepped back.
"I don't have time for this," he mumbled.
"So do we. We are scheduled to accept more dead spirits in less than five minutes. If you do not wish to be dinner, leave," the one to the right growled lowly. It bared its teeth at Batman. "What will it be, mortal?"
"Two words, boys."
The two heads cocked their heads questioningly to their right when the previously quiet head finally spoke. Batman's eyebrows shot up when it looked at him, its muzzle narrower and its slow gait and voice indisputably feminine.
"Breath mints, my dear brothers." Its muzzle stretched to an ugly smirk. "Next time, I do the talking. I could have held my breath for another ten seconds but I simply couldn't. I am positive Persephone won't mind you asking for some."
The middle one snarled at her. "Shut it. Can't you see we are guarding the gate? And how dare you delegate yourself as the next interrogator! Broman and I have always done a fine job. Unlike you… who let Orpheus pass before…"
"He was such a decent man. His eyes were so cute when he pleaded with us… I couldn't eat him then. And I was glad Eurydice didn't make it out. She was a selfish bitch."
The head on the far left—Bruce assumed he was Broman—barked at her. "You are always like this! Exceedingly immature and careless! I will have to report you to Hades… and let's see how you will like it when he chops off your head and hangs you up his wall!"
She only scoffed at them and then directed their shared body to the side. They swore at her when she successfully distracted them from the Batman. When they began snarling, howling insults at her, Batman saw the mischievous, rebellious glint in her eyes.
Her yellow eyes fleetingly smiled at him, and he got the message just as he fired his grappling hook to the gate and hoisted himself up and over the shaky gateway. He landed on the ground when he heard Cerberus—the two heads at least—turn around and bark fiercely at his back, their sharp teeth biting at the air.
"Calypso, you idiot! You let him go!" They thrashed at the gate's lock but Batman was already far off.
"Ooops… I think I did it again…" Calypso sang ironically. "That's for eating my hobgoblin two nights ago…"
Broman screeched at her, nearly lunged for her throat if the middle dog didn't block his target. "I was hungry! I could have eaten the dead mortals passing but they're intended for more unbearable torture than my belly, so I had to eat yours, you dunce! And you're trying to get even by letting this… human pass!"
"Yes, and I don't regret doing so…"
"Even if Hades hangs you up the wall!"
"I'll prefer the wall anytime than living another millennium breathing the same air as you two." She willed their body to sit. "I'm asking Persephone for some breath mints the next time she visits us."
"Bitch..." her joint brothers growled at her.
000000000000000000
'So far so good,' Batman thought to himself when he quietly crouched low behind a stalagmite as two bald devils passed by, rumbling lowly and inaudibly to one another. He waited for them to pass before he straightened and started his journey up.
He followed the rocky path; its direction slanted upwards but was abruptly turned to a downward slope at a turn. He looked straight ahead to see an irregular, indefinite formation that could hardly be called a fortress. More like its skeleton. He instantly quieted his footsteps when he heard hoarse whispers echoing about him.
His heart fell when he reached a riverbank, fire spewed out of it instead of water. Batman stepped back before it had the chance to lick his shoe and burn it. He scanned its length, looked to his right and left, and saw that the river began from a curve at the unseen distance on the right side.
Judging by the current's left-bound flow, he only knew it to lead him somewhere of probable significance. So he turned left and was beginning to resume his pacing walk when he heard more hollow echoes and cries from… the river of fire.
He glanced down fast enough to dodge a bleeding arm that was trying to grab his leg. Knowing that slowing down might cost his life, he ran. As his legs pushed forward, harder, more bleeding, roasted, emaciated bodies tried to climb out of Phlegethon, but were later pulled back in the river before they could obstruct Batman's way.
Nonetheless, their rotting stench devoured what Batman could call the breathable air 'pleasantly close to a garbage dump'. He gagged when he breathed in a lungful of spoiled flesh inhabiting the sultry air. He covered his nose and pushed down the bile creeping up his throat.
Suddenly, he tripped forward when a hand shot up from the river and swiped below him. Too fast for him to anticipate it and damn slick of a tormented soul to do so. He scrambled up when the burning soul stepped out of the river. Before the fire pulled him back in, Batman recognized the agonized, roasted face glowering at him.
The Riddler.
He darted past it, his heart frantically beating two at a time. His head began to ache but he shook it away. He suddenly remembered it, remembered the stormy night outside the R&S building where he fought Riddler, when he kicked Riddler off a railing and the man fell to a cauldron of burning metal. His death was instant.
He felt nothing—no guilt or bitterness—occupying his surprised revelation when he stopped at Phlegethon's end and the sick smell of burning flesh slowly subsided.
Breathing steadily once again, he faced two rivers that snaked in two different directions, like standing at the fork of the road where his fate bordered on luck or apt decision. He glanced at the river at his right, its current very still. The left's run was faster and Batman could distinguish some souls swimming in it.
He tilted his head to listen and what he mostly discerned from their cries were, 'who… who… who…?'
Closing his eyes to recall his Greek Mythology, Styx and Lethe came to mind. Styx, which lined the right route, was the river of the unbreakable oath by which the gods swore. That much Batman knew; he didn't probe further what the gods' oaths might be. Winding the left side was Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. Batman glanced at the watch.
Eleven minutes whisked by. Damn.
What could he expect after Lethe? More souls calling out, 'who… who'? He could be expecting an aviary of owls looming above him… asking the same unknown question. Who laid ahead? Who was awaiting him on the other side?
He scanned Styx's ceaseless course. Where the gods swore their oaths. If Hades' palace was amidst many-gated, crowded sketchy assemblies and plagued spirits, if wide wastelands or wan and cold meadows of pallid, ghostly flowers circumscribed the kingdom of the ruler of death, could Styx be the wisest hunch? Lethe?
Breathing in the stale air, he darted to the left side. He pressed his body to the wall that precariously banked the river. He pushed his body harder to the grazing wall when long, translucent fingers attempted to grab him. He sidestepped a little more when a hand pulled his ankle.
Unable to kick it off—its grip may be snake-tight, but when he tried slashing it off with his Batarang, his trusty weapon phased through its arm—he was pulled into the river.
The icy water robbed the air out of his lungs the moment he plunged foot-first into the water. Shocked, he shot his legs up, his head resurfacing but he was still too slow when hands pulled him down. Empty eye sockets stared at him, their long, greasy hair refusing Batman to escape; cords of hair tightened around his wrists and ankles. He shook them off, tried to reach down his utility belt for his Breathing Apparatus, but they just tauten their strands of hair around him, causing his skin to break open under the impact. Blood oozed and fogged the water around him, but he soon lost sense of it.
He watched them coming at him, dead souls' pale hands adhesive and strangling him. Several hands lunged for his neck, shaking the life out of him. He still tried to fight back but their toothless wails and empty eyes slowly soaked the life out of him.
His mind gradually went blank, the light gradually blinked and dimmed and went dark. Who am I? What am I? Why? Where? Who? Who are you? He couldn't feel the pain in his lungs and wrists, what was pain? Forgotten souls stared at him, he wondered who they were. Forgotten souls… who…? What…? Who was he?
His eyes began to sag, but suddenly the cords around him loosened… and were finally released. But he still didn't know what to do. He sank deeper, watching the souls scatter, their horrified shrieks mute but their faces wild with fear. He squinted his eyes as two souls swam to him, their forms more vivid and luminous than the rest.
One of them smiled at him, kissed him. She rubbed her cold hand against his cheek. The gesture was familiar. He squinted his eyes at her, her face recognized in his subconscious but forgotten in his conscious. Still smiling, she pulled him upward, her sparkling blue eyes mesmerizing him.
'Who are you?'
She was silent.
He repeated his question.
She looked at him, smiled. 'You've forgotten already?'
'You want me to repeat myself? That's why I'm asking you.'
She only laughed and glanced behind him. Batman followed her gaze and saw the figure swimming with them. He too was smiling a billionaire's grin. Batman swore under his breath. What were they so cocky about?
He coughed, vomited, gagged when the freezing air leaked through his waterproof clothing. He wrapped his cloak tighter around him, tried to clamp his clattering teeth shut. But it was useless. He clattered, shook tremendously as he forced his body to stand up. Rubbing his arms to stroke heat into his system, he glanced behind and saw a clear, greenish pond replacing Lethe's gray, murky river.
He searched for the pond's origin and saw a low waterfall pouring into the pond near him. He noticed that the falls were of grayish color. He then stared at the clear, greenish pond—which was encompassed by jagged rocks and sky-blue grass—below him. This must be Lethe's stopping point. He crouched low, his gloved fingers damped by the water, his hand reaching out for something.
Two vague figures swam towards him. His weak hands cupped the water. Who were they? He dipped and splashed a little. Why did they save him? He gazed at the waterfall. They looked disturbingly familiar. He sighed. Who were they? He didn't even realize that blood was still gushing from his deep injuries.
"Still figuring it out?"
Batman swiveled around abruptly, nearly lost his footing when his knee buckled. Muscles still cold and teeth clattering humiliatingly, he reached for his Batarang but stopped himself. He observed the woman in front of him.
Her chalk-white skin was luminous against the drab, grey room sheltering them; her slender figure was wrapped in a revealing white cloth as a gold buckle precariously linked her dress together; her soft, green eyes were unquestionably sad but kind; and her dark hair framed her incredibly high cheekbones. She was beautiful.
Persephone.
She strode forward, her feet barely touching the ground with divine grace and ease. Bruce noticed a towel in her arm when she was a spooning distance from him. He accepted it when she held it to him. He mumbled his thanks and she smiled and unsuspectingly she touched his frigid cheek.
A gesture so familiar.
He jumped, gasped in comprehending shock. No. It couldn't be.
'Have you forgotten already?' she'd asked.
… He was smiling a billionaire's grin… Could it be? No friggin' way.
"Don't deny it, please," she said demurely as she applied liniment to his open wounds. He winced but he willingly accepted more heavenly ointment on his open, bleeding wounds. Blood still dripped to the floor—he wondered if a vein was popped—and Persephone quickly tore off a piece of her tunic and wound it tightly around the overflowing gash.
Bruce only felt cold… and uncaring. Was it really them? He could feel a tug at his heart. He actually missed them… forgotten about them. He squinted his eyes to stop thinking, to stop feeling. The past was the past… there was no point in delving it when it has already been done…
"That's the kind of attitude that lost them to Lethe," Persephone said as she added more liniment. "You may have achieved your goal of saving others so they wouldn't experience as you've once had, but as you've moved further on, become more successful and engrossed in your work, you've forgotten, or rather, forced to forget the boy who loved and accepted any affection given to him. The boy they loved. The boy they died for."
Bruce pulled his hand away from her. "I have never forgotten about them! Every nanosecond of my life I have dedicated it to Gotham in remembrance of them, in honor of them. I love them."
Persephone said nothing but walked away. She bent down on the edge of a waterhole on the distant side and dug a goblet into it. She straightened and handed the goblet to Bruce's trembling hand. "This will warm you up nicely."
Bruce took a swig of it and nearly gagged when it burned down his esophagus. Persephone giggled at his shocked reaction. "Very strong wine indeed. During winter, the Underworld can be deadly cold. So, this really helps warm us."
Bruce nodded and frowned at the quarter-drained cup. "Thanks," he croaked.
She lightly smiled, her sad eyes saddening Bruce. But as much as he wanted to commiserate with her, he didn't have time. He opened his mouth in question, but Persephone unexpectedly handed him a ring.
He took it, examined it by weighing its heaviness in his palm. It was as light as a feather. He stared at the mark embedded in its face. Fire. Hardly a surprise.
"Why are you willing to give this to me? Especially when it belongs to your husband."
She smirked at him. "My way of passive-aggressive revolt."
Bruce nodded, his face lightened. "Are women really treated badly here?"
Persephone tilted her head interestedly. "I couldn't say my husband is unjust to me… he's just austere with me." She moved to a chair perched on a platform and sat on it. "During my younger years, I made many attempts to escape. When it seemed futile, I acted like a spoiled little girl. I wasn't a pleasant care for Hades and I didn't care. But when Zeus negotiated with his brother that I could visit earth once a year, I calmed a bit. But Hades become very cautious."
"Sorry to hear that," Batman mumbled.
"Calypso has been an entertaining company. So, it's not as bad as before I acquainted myself with her." Her smile was depressingly pseudo that Bruce approached her, covered her pale hand in his.
"A gift from above." He slickly dug out the posies from the pouch and handed it to her.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she smiled at him. Bruce smiled too, his dimple caving below his lip's left side. She chuckled, patted his cheek. "Keep smiling like that, Diana would just swoon at your feet."
Surprised, he asked, "How did you—?"
"Hades may seem inexorable and ruthless, but he cares for his daughter." Persephone narrowed her eyes at him as she lovingly sucked in the scent of the flowers. "In fact, you and Hades are quite alike."
"Like hell we are."
"Watching the every move and turn of those whom you cherish… I don't see the difference."
She grinned and her eyes were sincerely warm and appreciative.
He gave up and nodded his thanks. She kissed his cheek, let her hand rest there. He slowly pulled it away and asked, "Exit?"
"I hear the next trial is the 'Ruler of the Sea'."
He nodded in confirmation and was pointed to Lethe's stopping point, otherwise known as the pond from where he was fished out. Bruce turned to ask but she pushed a finger to his lips.
"Trust me."
He put on his Breathing Apparatus and dived in. He trusted her.
00000000000000000
To be continued… (soon, I promise)