This big idiot jumps in front of my car, and instead of flying off like any sensible person would when hit by a ton of metal going fifty miles per hour, he just stands in place as the hood of my new Mercedes buckles around him. My head smashes into the steering wheel and over the ringing in my ears I can faintly hear the beginning of a dramatic monologue coming from the crazy man inside of my engine. Great, so it's another one of these assholes. What is he, the God of Easterly Wind and Cinder Blocks?
The door of my car is ripped off its hinges before I'm tossed out after it, the seat belt offering little resistance to the new complication in my life. I still haven't even figured out what to do about that Notos chick, and now this redheaded dickbag has to go and wreck the nice new car I just inherited from my father. Enough is enough.
My old reliable ice blade forms from my hand and I promptly shove it into his chest. For some reason, instead of the usual comforting slick sound of a perfectly sharp blade sliding into flesh, I'm instead met by the crack of ice shattering as my blade splinters against his chest. He must work out. "Could you repeat all that," I ask. "I wasn't listening."
The man standing before me is my height, almost as slim, and has a somewhat flamboyant mop of red hair, that I've no doubt he thinks makes him look suave. He looks like he'd be more at home on a runway than bashing my head in. The suit he had been wearing is falling off of him in shreds, with scraps still stuck to the wreckage of my car. Finally, someone knows my pain. "You're Elsa Arlotti. The Borealis." It's not a question.
"And yet I haven't even heard of you. What god would you happen to be, and what did the previous Borealis do to piss you off?"
"I'm no god." His fist collides with my head.
I actually see stars. I thought that was just a cartoon thing. I've taken more than my share of blows to the cranium, growing up trans in an orphanage and then in the mafia, you don't really have much choice about it, but I have never been hit like that before.
Before I have the chance to recover, I feel his hands clasp around my wrist, and he begins to tug. As I try to blink away the stars and muster up some kind of response, his foot meets my gut and I go flying back half a block.
He didn't let go. I look down in shock at the torn and bleeding mass of sleeve, flesh, and bone where my arm once was. Holy fuck. I really hope I can heal that.
In his hand, with the remaining half of my sleeve stubbornly clinging to it, is the rest of my arm, with the bracelet Anna had just given me three days ago still attached. "Give that back," I manage, my words contorted from the pain. "It was a gift." He can keep the arm for all I care, but not Anna's bracelet. Struggling to my feet, I forge a new arm of ice, and armor up. I don't know if it'll help against whatever the hell this jerk is, but I'd rather not lose any more limbs. My vision is blurred at the edges, and the stars have redoubled their effort to obscure what little I can see. "Give it back!"
"What, this?" He holds my arm up to his face like it's a piece of food he wants to inspect before sending it back to the kitchen. I'm a little insulted, I'd like to think I had a pretty nice arm. Instead of calling for his waiter, however, he pulls back and flings my limb off into the distance, passing over at least one skyscraper. What the fuck? "I don't think you'll be needing it any more."
Before he can separate me from any other part of my body, I freeze his legs to the ground. This only stops him for a moment, however, as he quickly manages to pull free. Fortunately, it was just enough time for me to hurl a javelin of ice at his head. Unfortunately, even his head seems to be un-fucking-breakable and it shatters on impact. What is this fucker made of?
"You know what? Fuck it, I'm tagging out." A gargantuan creature made of ice appears behind him, wrapping its arms around my would be murderer. As he struggles, an icy version of myself, the same one Anna had enjoyed so much the other night, forms before him and attempts to gouge out his eyes with jagged fingers – I may have made one alteration to my double. Without letting up, a massive spike forms under him, rising straight for that most sensitive of areas. Take that, you cock sucker.
He screams, his anger and pain echoing through the street. Then, he emerges, in an explosion of icy shards, his empty eye sockets oozing blood as he charges right at me. What does it take to put this bitch down?
Ice wraps around his heart and I attempt to crush it, but it doesn't give. Smaller, many limbed beings pounce on him, one after another, until he's weighed down in a pile of writhing octopus-like monsters.
Again he emerges. So I do what any sensible person would do and shoot him in what would be his left eye. He doesn't go down, but he does stop in his tracks, a quizzical expression on his blood covered face.
I shoot again. And again. I empty the entire magazine into his eye and then pop in another one and empty it into his right eye. Then, just to be one hundred percent certain that he's down, I cause a swarm of tiny ice spiders to climb inside of his shredded eye sockets and pick away at whatever remains.
He falls. And a massive anvil descends from the sky onto his head. This is a cartoon after all.
I hesitantly approach his body and prod at it with a ten foot pole. He doesn't stir. I thwack him with the pole. Still nothing. Is he finally dead?
I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. That was the most exhausting kill I've ever had in all my years at this job.
Someone actually fucking starts slow clapping somewhere behind me.
I turn around, slowly, desperately hoping that it's just some crazy person who decided to watch my epic showdown. I am exhausted. It's been a very long day. I was assaulted by another god, I had to kill my father and take over the mafia, and then I had my arm ripped off and received a few new concussions. I do not have another fight in me.
Finally facing the source, I see an incredibly beautiful dark haired woman, wearing a long burgundy dress, smirking at me, her hands clasped in the final motion of her applause. "Good work, Boreas. I'm very impressed."
I pant in reply.
"I do hope that wasn't too much work for you. I'd hate to think that I put you out at all."
"What are you talking about?" I finally manage, dropping to the ground to sit. If she's going to kill me, then I can at least be comfortable, and if she's going to monologue then just all the more reason.
"That was the product of my husband's latest dalliance. I told him that if he managed to kill you, I'd accept him into the family and stop attempting to arrange for his death," she explains, slowly and clearly, as if talking to a kindergartner.
"You sent him? What the hell did I ever do to you? And why are you clapping if your guy lost?" None of this shit makes any sense.
"Oh, I certainly hoped that you would triumph. I needed to see what you were capable of, and if it could rid me of that nuisance, Hans, then all the better. Believe me, Zeus will be hearing a mouthful from me. He couldn't even manage to produce an impressive specimen this time. I swear, his affairs are growing more and more sordid as the centuries pass.
"Zeus?" I had never heard of Boreas or Notos before this week, but even I know that name. He's the king of the gods. "You're Zeus's wife? Hera? So all of it's really real? So what, was that Hercules?"
"Oh please, Heracles would have never gone down so easily?"
"You call that easy?!" If I had the energy I would rise to my feet to emphasize my words, but I'm just too tired. I don't even have it in me to make a chair.
"Was that you going all out? Wow, and here I was thinking you were trying to keep things interesting. I'm a bit disappointed, but I trust that you'll grow better in time. You're certainly more competent than your father."
Well at least there's that. "Your boy took my arm –"
"He is not MY boy!" Venom drips from her words as her bored facade quickly vanishes. "That reminder of my husband's infidelity, that worthless piece of human filth, had nothing to do with me and don't you dare insinuate it again."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. This woman is a full-fledged god. She could tear me apart without a thought, especially as I am right now. Maybe I ought to scale back my usual flippancy. "Well he threw away the bracelet my girlfriend gave me. I would really like it back if you could get it for me. I'm sure it would be no issue for someone of your might – not to mention your beauty." The concussions may have messed up my suaveness.
Her expression softens into a warm smile. "A pittance. Of course, it will only be a moment." She doesn't so much as flicker. Instead my bracelet isn't in her hand one second and then is the next. I'd say it's like a miracle, but as an act of god, I suppose it is one.
"Thank you." I force myself to my feet, but she saves me the trouble of walking over to her, appearing before me and handing over the precious present.
Her fingers graze mine as she releases Anna's bracelet, sending a stirring through my stomach and downward. "As I said, it's nothing. Now how may I properly reward you for ridding me of that filth?" I certainly know what part of me wants, the way the slightest hint of her godly touch felt, but Anna would never forgive me, and she's already shot me twice today.
What could I even ask for? My arm? To be back home? Any of them seem an awful waste of a gift from an actual fucking god.
That's it! She's not the only god I have to deal with. "I need a way to defeat Notos. If you could either help me, or give me some sort of weapon that would let me kill her – I still haven't recovered from her attacks, I can't deal with that again."
She considers my words for a moment before nodding. "Help with Notos," she mutters to herself, clearly contemplating exactly how she could provide it. "I can certainly see how he could be quite the bother. Fire does have a tendency to melt ice after all." Thanks, lady, like I didn't already know that. "I'll give you a weapon. I can interfere no more than that, I still owe your brother a favor as well, though I doubt he'd stoop so low as to cash it in over you."
She's such a charmer. "What do you mean brother? I thought she was a girl."
"She may be in that form now, but just as Boreas is a god, so too is he."
I grit my teeth. "I'm definitely a woman."
Hera only shrugs, apparently such trivial matters as gender identity are beneath her. "Whatever you say." A sword appears in her hands. "I would advise you keep this on you at all times, she has had it out for you for eons, and I highly doubt she'll ever let you relax."
The burns in my back itch just thinking about a rematch. I sure hope it's just her attacks that don't heal, and not all gods', as I'd really rather like my arm back. "Could I at least have a sheath for it then?"
Groaning she nods again. "Oh bother, very well." A sheath appears at my hip, held up by the leather belt I was already wearing. How does she do that?
"Thank you, your majesty."
"A little respect goes a long way. I'm more than happy to aid those who show it. You belie your reputation, Boreas, I'm glad to see this vessel is less stupid than all the men you've ridden before."
"I try."
And with that she vanishes, leaving me alone in a street filled with blood, ice, and pieces of Francis Arlotti's favorite car. I guess I'm walking.