Chapter 2
In which Perseus harasses old women
New York. The Big Apple. One of the largest and most famous cities in the world. Streets that were never without the hustle and bustle of pedestrians going about their daily lives, and air that was never without the tang of city smog or the babble of human speech. It all seemed quite normal- that is, were it not for the portal of bubbling blood-red quagmire that led to some unholy abyss that had formed in the middle of a road. And erupting from that portal was a chariot of damnation, a facsimile of a mortal taxi cab made of pure smoke and dark magic.
So, all in all, an average day in New York.
Driving the demonic taxi cab up front were three withered old women, ancient seers from Greek Mythology. They were the Graeae, wizened old crones who could see into futures that not even the god of prophecies Apollo could. They also ran the taxi service that had the best bang-for-buck in the entire greater New York area. Bang-for-buck of course meaning that you pay them a buck and the car goes bang with you inside it. This meant that whoever hired their services was either stupid, desperate enough for fast transport that they'd risk their lives, or looking for information that no one else had.
The back door of the cab opened up, and the passenger who sought information slipped in.
"Gray Sisters taxi services. Where ya goin'?" One of the three crones rasped as the passenger settled in.
"Where am I going? Well, ain't that a good question." The blond man smirked from the back seat. "Why don't you tell me?"
"What kind of a stupid-ass non-answer is that?!" snarled the second crone. "How in Hades are we supposed to know where you're going?!" As her sister ranted, the third crone paused for a moment.
"Hang on, that voice seems-"
"Well, you're the Graeae sisters, aren't you? You should know very well where I want to go. Even without your all-seeing wisdom." His broadening smile of mischievous amusement still unseen by the sisters who had yet to turn around and look at him.
"Listen pal, I don't know how important you think we are, but we don't record repeat customers here. We don't know who you are, and we don't care!" The second crone snapped.
"Speak for yourself," The first crone scoffed. "I could count the number of repeat customers we've had on my hands. Which I do, because they're so rare."
"No one cares about your lame hobbies, Anger!" The second crone growled. "Look buddy, either tell us where you want to go or get the hell out of our cab!"
"Anger! Tempest!" The third crone shouted over her sisters. "Will you two shut up for one second?! This guy sounds familiar!"
The third crone craned her head around, leering at the backseat with a single bulging eye haphazardly jammed into one of her empty eye sockets to get a view of their passenger. When she saw him, her eye bulged out in shock to the point it literally popped out of her head.
"Y-you! You-!" She choked out in a strangled voice.
"What?" The second crone, Tempest, demanded. "You? You who? Who is it?"
"I-it's-! Th-that-! Him-!"
"Damnit Wasp, either tell me or give me the damn eye!" Tempest hissed in frustration. Fumbling for the eye that had just popped out of her head, Wasp quickly jammed it into one of her sister's empty eye sockets. Sight restored, Tempest turned to the backseat to see who had entered their cab, only for her jaw to drop open in dismay.
"Hey, what's the big idea?" Anger demanded. "I heard the creaking sound of someone's jaw comically dropping to the floor like a Looney Tunes sketch. What's gotten into you two?" With a clap to the back of Tempest's head, she knocked the crone's eye out into her hand, popping it into her own empty socket. Blinking away the blurriness, her sight focused in on the passenger in the back seat, who was none other than the great-
"P-P-PERSEUS?!"
One of the first heroes of Greece and fugitive from the Underworld grinned at the Graeae's collective shock.
"Ladies. Truly, it has been far too long-" Perseus' taunting monologue was immediately cut off by three Glock-17 pistols being pointed directly at his face.
"...I see you ladies have opted to modernize."
"Ya don't fuck with cab drivers in New York, especially not Daemons!" Tempest sneered.
"Speaking of which," Anger said. "Where the hell did you come from? Florida?"
Typically when one were to think of Perseus, their minds would be drawn to the many famous sculptures made depicting the glory of the great hero, usually completely in the nude letting himself hang free as the head of poor Medusa could only bear witness and weep. Or, their minds would be drawn to the more PG-friendly retellings of the story that depicted Perseus in the standard pure white toga that every person in ancient Greece apparently wore regardless of class or culture.
As funny as it would have been to have an ancient hero go streaking through New York, Perseus was neither of those at the moment. Instead, Perseus, whose title "Eurymedon" meant "ruling far and wide" was dressed in some raggedy-looking shorts and an eyebleedingly garish floral print shirt. (The top few buttons undone of course, gotta make sure the ladies have a show) And to finish off his look, a pair of flip-flops to spiritually succeed the ancient Greek sandals. Thankfully worn without socks. He wasn't that much of a fashion disaster. His lousy getup combined with his tanned skin and loosely tied back golden-blond hair complete with a set of dark shades perched atop made him look like a broke college fratboy from Miami that just got thrown across the country into New York.
Eurymedon indeed.
"What? No, I got these clothes out of a goodwill bin." Perseus let out a small chuckle, seemingly unbothered by the dangerous firearms primed to blow his brains out. "If anything, I'm more of a New Mexico-Arizona guy. It's been like a hundred years since I've been in the States though."
"You could be from California for all I care." Wasp snarled. "But you're going to pay for what you did to us back then!"
Perseus rolled his eyes. "Oh no, I'm so scared! Whatever shall I do?" He cried in mock terror. "Heh. Well, whatever I would do if you had even remembered to load those guns of yours."
Silence permeated the magic taxi cab.
"...What?" Tempest asked.
Perseus's grin broadened even further. At that point, it wasn't even a smile. It looked more like a predator baring its teeth. "Those guns don't even have magazines in them, dumbass. You've never actually used those pistols, have you?"
"...You're bullshitting us, aren't you?" Wasp guessed.
"The fact that you even have to ask that means you don't know whether your gun has the added weight of a magazine full of bullets. Which, I'd imagine, is a noticeable amount. You have no idea how to handle those things beyond 'safety off, pull the trigger', do you?"
"Anger." Tempest hissed. "You have the eye. Do our guns have magazines in them?"
"I-I don't know." Anger stammered, now sweating bullets. "My wrist is in the way."
"Then just move your damn wrist-!"
"Ah ah ah," Perseus interrupted. Pulling his shirt slightly up at his side, he revealed the handle of his own gun sticking from the waistband of his shorts. "See, I learned how to handle guns myself, about a century or so ago. I'm going to reach for this thing right now, very slowly. If you tilt your wrist, lean to the side, or try to get a good look at your guns, then I'm going to start reaching for it very, very quickly. I'm ready to stake my name as 'Billy the Kid' that I can draw this little guy and liquefy that eyeball in its socket before you can so much as glimpse your Schrodinger's magazine."
"And if our guns are already loaded?" Wasp challenged. "All we have to do is pull the trigger to find out."
"Oh, definitely." Perseus conceded. "When you pull that trigger, there's a fifty percent chance you shoot me dead. There's also a fifty percent chance all you hear is that tiny little 'click!' A click that gets followed up by a not-so-little 'bang' from me. So the real question isn't 'Are our guns loaded' or not, it's 'How much am I willing to risk to kill this asshole'?"
The three sisters were silent. A slow, guttural growl began to rise from the three as they slowly lowered their pistols. Perseus's hand reached down and drew a beaten-looking revolver from his waistband and placed it on his lap for safety.
"That thing looks like shit. You pull that out of a Goodwill too?" Anger scoffed.
"Nah," Perseus chuckled. "Stole it. New York, you know? Now, if you ladies would be so kind…?"
"Fine, fine," Tempest growled. "But you still have to actually tell us what you're looking for."
"Exactly what I was looking for last time. I already have Old Reliable right here," He said, gesturing to the dark shades on his head. "But I seem to be missing a full set of five. Harpe, the adamantine scythe-sword. Kibisis, the curse-swallowing container. Gorgoneion, the mirror-shield amulet. And Talaria, the sky-walking sandals."
"Getting a little greedy, aren't we?" Wasp grumbled.
"Can you help me, or not?"
"No no no, now you've got the information fixation going again. We need to say something now, so we might as well give you what you want." Then together, in unison, the Graeae sisters tapped into their eldritch knowledge and began to chant.
"In a forest of agony carved into stone, where loneliness and misery grow to bitterness and hatred, awaiting in a lost love's hands is the swallowing void."
"Across the sky like a bolt of lightning, the new generation spreads its wings and sprints to the throne of the heavens."
"Amidst a sea of fiends where maidens may roam free and men become beasts, the sun-daughter reflects the truth of the world."
"Where armies go to die and where gods turn a blind eye, beneath the immortal giant's horde does the all-slayer rest in gold."
Perseus's eyes narrowed. "...That just sounded like a prophecy, except even vaguer and without any clever rhymes."
"Fuck off! You think it's easy to come up with this shit on the fly?!" Anger raged.
"Yeah! We aren't rappers or anything! You come up with the rhymes next time!" Tempest stormed.
"Actually, I have been listening to some Biggie lately and-"
"NOBODY GIVES A SHIT WASP!" the two sisters roared, cutting off the third's droning.
"Alright, alright, ladies. No need to fight over me." ignoring their infuriated cries Perseus continued. "It may be vague, but I'm not one to turn up my nose at the help you've given. Thank you for your directions, and… I am sincerely sorry about how our first meeting ended. Throwing your eye away after you helped me was uncalled for."
Three eyebrows raised at the seeming sincerity in the reborn hero's apology. "Where is this coming from? Are you trying to get a free ride out of us?" Tempest questioned.
Perseus shook his head. "No, no." There was a contemplative look on his face as he gazed out of the backseat window beside him. "I just… Well, I need to live this life right this time. No more petty cruelty, no more necessary evils, I just… have to be the kind of man my mother wanted me to be. And that means righting my old wrongs. I am truly sorry for what I did." He let out a sigh before his dazzling grin returned to his face. "So in the spirit of that, I won't be asking for a free ride- or any ride at all. I'll find a less… daemonic way to get to the first location I'm snooping out. But I will still pay you for your service- do you ladies take cash or credit?"
The Graeae seemed to relax at his explanation, though Wasp broke out with a cackle. "Credit? Your bum-ass doesn't have any credit!"
Perseus chuckled as he reached into the pocket of his raggedy shorts and fished out the few drachmas he had pilfered from the palace of Hades during his escape. "Yeah, yeah. Just a figure of speech."
"No it's not!"
As the sisters counted the payment, he stepped from the cab and mulled over his plan moving forward. There were so many places he could go, so many things he could do to earn redemption- but he had an irresistible draw to the five treasures that defined his legend, imploring him to seek them out- or else be left with a strange feeling of being incomplete that suffused his body and mind, which would no doubt hamper his ability to move forward. So it looked like he would have to find them first. The vague mumbo-jumbo the sisters told him didn't exactly make it sound like he could just find all of them in New York, so he'd have to do some digging, reconnect with the mortal and magical sides of the modern world to find a lead… and hopefully that draw that all the treasures had would help steer him in the right direction.
Just as he made to leave, a guffaw from Anger drew his attention back to the cab. She was leaning out the window, leering out at him with her eye. "Ha! If you're really that dead set on redeeming your old mistakes, you've got another thing coming for you, pretty-boy."
Perseus raised an eyebrow. "...Is that so?" he said, his tone goading her to give more away.
"Nice try," the Graeae sneered, "but we know something you don't, and you have no idea what's waiting in store for you on your quest for 'atonement'. But we'll let you figure it out for yourself."
"Well then," Perseus returned, his smile stretching wider. "I'll be the bigger man and let you ladies in on something I know!" Hearing that, the other Graeae sisters crowded to the window, squeezing Anger aside. "See, the thing is, I have no damn clue how those new-fangled guns of yours work. 'Magazine', 'safety', 'clip'... all of those words mean nothing to me. You may have been clueless about your own guns, but I know even less than you do. I was bullshitting you this entire time."
A silence stretched out between the seers and the demigod that was swiftly broken by a triad of enraged screams and the hooting laughter of the hero. A series of gunshots rang out but found no purchase on a shadowy intangible form as Perseus slipped on his shades and spirited away.
All in all, just another day in New York.
Cing Krimson's Qringe Korner: I needed to write something. Better late than never, right?