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Howlett knew that something was wrong the moment he reached the banks of the River Acheron and Charon was nowhere to be found.
He and Corporal Summers had traveled from the American city of San Francisco to the Saskatchewan forests where Howlett knew a portal to the underworld could be found. Miss Blaire had offered them transport on some sort of streamlined zeppelin similar to Sage’s ship, but after flying across the cosmos for so long he’d preferred to keep his feet a bit closer to the ground. So they’d taken Miss Blaire’s money and boarded a train, transferring to another in Vancouver and yet another in Calgary. Howlett had kept his hat pulled low, lest he be mistaken for his counterpart in this world, whose enemies, Miss Blaire had warned, were beyond counting. Between his Adamantine claws and Summers’ deadly rays, however, Howlett had feared no earthly enemy. They were sure to find more worthy foes in Hades.
But in Hades they’d arrived, and villains were in short supply. No triplicate heads of Cerberus, no gloating Pluto. And now, no ferryman to see them deeper into the abyss.
“Is it just me, or is this place a bit…empty?” Summers asked, taking off his cap and wiping his forehead of the sweat that had gathered in the hellish heat.
“Hmmph,” Howlett agreed. He crouched down at the riverbank and extended one Adamantine claw into the water, swishing it around. Ripples spread outward from the submersion point, but the enchanted river showed no reaction to the godly metal.
Howlett stood up again, ready to turn to Summers and brainstorm a new plan, when the whole cavern began to shake. Stalactites fell from the ceiling to splash into the river and pebbles rained down from the walls. Between Howlett and Summers, a column of smoke rose, and when the smoke faded an unfamiliar bald man stood in its place, with pointed ears, sharp fangs, and dark pince-nez spectacles.
“Who the hell’re you two supposed ta be?” the man asked.
Summers crossed his arms over his chest before Howlett could respond. “We could say the same to you.”
The man gave a fanged grin. “Name’s Guido Carosella, but you can call me the king a’ hell. Now, care ta tell me why I got a pair a’ steampunk X-Men cosplayers trespassin’ in my digs?”
Howlett puffed out his chest and released his claws to make up for the fact that half the words Guido had just said were gibberish as far as he was concerned. “I’m Governor-General James Howlett of the Dominion of Canada and Viceroy of Her Majesty’s Expedition to Shangri-La, and this here is Corporal Scott Summers of the Union Army. I don’t know what you’ve done to Pluto or Cerberus or anybody else who should be down here, and I don’t really care. But I’ve come to retrieve an important fella, and I don’t intend to leave until I’ve got him.”
Guido blinked at them. “This some kind a’ joke?” he asked, looking Summers up and down. “I know Scott Summers, and trust me, you ain’t him. Same goes for you, Goldie Wolvie. I think you guys got the wrong address.”
Howlett growled low in his throat, but Summers put a stilling hand on his shoulder. Scott Summers, keeping calm and carrying on in every damn universe. “Listen,” Summers said. “We traveled a long way to get here. Can you just tell us where Hercules is?”
Guido raised one eyebrow, a strange expression on a hell god. “Herc? Topside, far as I know. When I was alive, he was working at a diner in Brooklyn. Made a damn good spanakopita, too.” His face took on a melancholy expression. “Damn, I miss food.”
Suddenly Howlett understood, and not just because the idea of his Herc cooking was completely impossible to imagine. He cursed under his breath and turned to Summers. “We’re in the wrong damn underworld.”
Summers let out a low whistle and put his fingers to his temple. “Of course. We should have guessed. Different universes must have different afterlife dimensions. Otherwise the crowding would be… unimaginable.”
Howlett felt the beginnings of despair starting to form in his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t let himself feel even when he’d held his lover’s body in his arms. Their disembodied Xavier was dead. He and Summers alone didn’t have the power to hop across dimensions. They’d have to return to Miss Blaire’s world. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad – Miss Blaire’s Canada actually allowed men to marry other men. Miss Blaire’s America had enshrined racial equality into its Constitution, even if its people didn’t always behave accordingly. He and Summers could make lives in that world. But a life without Hercules, when they’d just reunited such a short time ago… Howlett didn’t want to imagine it.
But Guido just nodded, like their realization was satisfying rather than crushing. “Told ya. So where you guys tryin’ ta go?”
Summers jerked his thumb at Howlett. “His world. We’re looking for his, uh… his Hercules.”
Guido raised both his eyebrows above his spectacles. “First Rictor, now alterna-Wolverine? Life’s just full a’ surprises, ain’t it?” Then he shrugged and rummaged in a pouch on his belt. “Here,” he said, handing them a small, round device, no larger than a sovereign. “It’s only got one button, so I can’t predict where it’ll take you, but if you press it enough times, hopefully you’ll end up in the right place. Don’t say I never helped nobody.”
Howlett took the device. He looked at Summers, who nodded. “Thanks,” he said, to Guido. Then he grabbed Summers’ arm, and pushed the button.
*
The world went black, and when Howlett’s vision cleared, he found himself standing just inside the gates of Hades. He didn’t spot Cerberus, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Herc himself had once carried Cerberus out of Hades and back; if it had been done once, it could be done again.
“Shall we?” Summers said, gesturing forward.
Howlett took the lead, looking to the left and right to make sure the coast was clear before proceeding. He and Summers had barely made it ten feet past the gate when a roar and a pounding of feet sounded behind them.
“Huzzah! At last, my labors are complete!” shouted a familiar voice. Howlett turned around, and there was Hercules, Cerberus cradled in his huge arms. Howlett’s voice caught in his throat as he watched Herc put the dog down before the gates, patting each of its three heads as it licked at his arm.
“Herc!” Howlett yelled, running toward him, acting on instinct and ignoring Summers’ calls behind him.
Herc looked up, his features creasing with confusion. “Do I know you?” He looked Howlett up and down and waggled his eyebrows. “And if I don’t, can I?”
Howlett blushed despite himself, but up close he could see what he should have suspected all along: this wasn’t his Hercules. This Herc was younger, beardless, barely finished with his Twelve Labors. He was the Herc Howlett had met so long ago, in a joint strategy meeting between Zeus’s godly soldiers and Her Majesty’s army, the Herc he had fallen for before a single word had passed between them. This Herc hadn’t slain the dragons of Shangri-La; he hadn’t served as Minister of War under Governor-General James Howlett. He hadn’t fought with his lover side-by-side, and been punished for that synchronicity.
Howlett felt the same disappointment blossoming in his chest that he’d felt during the team’s first mission to destroy the evil Xaviers. He hadn’t seen Hercules in so long, he’d been ready to cling to the alternate version he met, just for the chance to breathe in his scent, to feel the strength in his arms. But that Hercules, just like this Hercules, wasn’t really the man he’d loved, no more than the little boy he’d met in the frontier village had been Howlett himself.
“My apologies,” Howlett said, tipping his hat. Summers had jogged up behind him, and he put an understanding hand on Howlett’s shoulder.
“Come on,” Summers said softly. Howlett took one last look at Hercules, and pressed the button.
*
When the world came into focus, Howlett and Summers found themselves outside of the gates once again. This time, Cerberus was already there. But instead of the three heads Howlett knew him to have in his own world, this Cerberus had too many heads to count – at least 50 in total.
Howlett scrambled for the teleportation device, ready to press it again and get them out of there, but Cerberus had already spotted them. One of the heads jutted forward on its long neck and batted at Howlett’s hand, sending the device flying to the ground several feet away.
“Looks like we got a fight on our hands!” Howlett shouted, popping his claws. In truth, he was almost happy for the fight. He wanted to get on with the mission, and he knew he had to retrieve the device before they were trapped here forever. The fight had serious stakes. But it was still a fight, and that was something Howlett knew how to do. He and Herc hadn’t become the greatest warriors his world had ever known by being battle-shy. A fight like this would let his instincts take over, let him burn off some of his adrenaline and clear his brain of all its swirling thoughts.
Howlett dove in, clawing at the Cerberus, letting his claws hit whatever part of it they could find – eyes, noses, necks, anything. When he cleanly severed one head, the neck drooped down limply. The blood began to clot, but nothing new grew in place of the missing head. At least this Cerberus wasn’t a Hydra.
From over his shoulder, Howlett saw streaks of red light hit the Cerberus in places Howlett couldn’t reach, but he didn’t turn to look for their source. For all that he trusted him, Howlett couldn’t watch Summers while he fought. Most of the time, looking at Summers didn’t bring back memories of his own Scott, the one who’d died on a battlefield at 19. The man who’d made Howlett realize where his inclinations lay had been pale and scrawny, nothing like the dark, well-muscled man who fought beside him now. But when this Scott Summers fought, bouncing his red rays off walls to hit the enemy with precision, jumping and diving and never retreating, it was hard for Howlett not to remember the man whose body he’d shielded on the ground when they were both little more than children, his blood pouring onto the grass as soldiers swarmed past them to take down the horde of ogres that had attacked their little corner of Manitoba. Hard not to remember the last kiss they’d shared, unnoticed in the chaos, as Scott took his last breath.
Even if Howlett found Scott’s spirit when he finally reached his own underworld, he knew it would be too late. Souls thirty years dead couldn’t be retrieved. If Scott had reached Elysium – and Howlett believed his courage and goodness might very well have taken him there – he would have chosen to reincarnate, anyway. The spirit of Howlett’s Scott was likely on earth once more, ignorant of his past life, working to protect the helpless all over again.
But Howlett could still save Hercules. That was the thought that fueled him as he continued to attack the Cerberus. He could still save the true love of his life, the man at whose side he had fought for the better part of two decades. All he had to do was find the right world, and everything would be ok again.
The Cerberus finally staggered back, not dead but too wounded to continue. Summers ran over to retrieve the device. “Good fight,” he said as he joined Howlett, still panting a bit. His uniform was ripped in five places, but he was otherwise in one piece. “Let’s move on.”
*
They were back at the gates of Hades. But this time, the gates looked… different. The bars were closer together, barely an inch apart, and atop the posts sat intricately carved cat figures.
Howlett was ready to push the gates open when a chorus of meows reached his ears. He looked down and spotted a tiny, three-headed kitten at his feet, each mouth open to give a kittenish cry.
“Something tells me this isn’t the right place, either,” Summers said, drily.
Howlett shrugged. At least this place wasn’t traumatic. Maybe they could stay for a few minutes, recover from the last fight before making the next jump. Howlett bent down, reaching out his fingers to scritch the kitten behind two of its six ears.
“Grrrrrrr,” growled the kitten. And suddenly each of its mouths opened up even wider, impossibly wide, the teeth growing longer and sharper. Its eyes glowed red as it reared back on its haunches.
“Time to go!” Howlett yelled, jumping back. He grabbed Summers’ shoulder and pushed the button just as the kitten-Cerberus pounced.
*
When they came to in the next underworld, they were already past the gates, even further along than they’d been after their first teleportation. The inter-dimensional device didn’t seem to care where its passengers landed in each universe, as long as it was part of the underworld.
Howlett and Summers walked deeper into the cavern. Howlett was glad for Summers’ silence. If Miss Blaire had been there, or Kurt, they would have tried to get him to talk about his feelings, and that was just about the last thing he wanted to do, especially after all the memories that Cerberus fight had just stirred up. But Summers had always borne his pain quietly, and he knew when others needed to do the same.
They reached the Acheron, and there was Charon, right where he should be, his long beard visible beneath his tattered robes. He stood beside his boat, long pole in hand, and Howlett approached with a few gold coins he’d pocketed from a poker table in the frontier world. Charon accepted the fee, and Summers and Howlett boarded the ferry. Before they knew it, they’d crossed to the other side.
As they stepped off onto the banks, spirits came into view, the souls of the dead who had not yet been assigned a final resting place. They wandered, aimless, wearing the ghostly echoes of clothing half a century out of fashion to Howlett’s eyes. If these were some of the most recently departed, this wasn’t likely to be Howlett’s underworld after all.
Howlett turned to Summers to say as much, but Summers stood stock-still, his back military-rigid, his head (and, presumably, eyes) pointed in the direction of a single wandering spirit. The ghostly young woman’s long black braids seemed to hang, suspended, in the air around her head, and she wore a gold sash around the waist of her dress. Stitched onto the bodice, starting at her waist and stretching all the way to the dark skin of her neck, was an elaborately embroidered bird silhouette, also in gold.
“Oh, Jean,” Summers said, his voice catching in his throat on the word.
“This is yours, ain’t it?” Howlett said, his voice quiet in something akin to reverence. The only Jean he’d ever met, in their final adventure, had been from the Age of Apocalypse, but he’d seen enough to know she was a woman worth mourning in every universe.
Summers turned his head away from the woman. “We need to leave.”
“Hey, kid, this mission ain’t just about me,” Howlett said, watching Jean continue to drift. “You need to save somebody you love, you go right ahead and do it.”
But Summers shook his head. “She sacrificed her life to protect all of us. If I bring her back, everything will be even worse. And she’d never forgive me for it.”
Howlett didn’t want to press. Whatever had happened in Summers’ world after the end of his war, it definitely wasn’t a time of peaceful armistice, and no man wanted to talk about his freshest scars. Still, Howlett needed to make one more offer.
“You can go back, Summers. Just leave this cave and go back to your own world through the gates. I can carry on by myself.” Howlett didn’t want to say goodbye, but he’d be content knowing that Summers was alive and well and back where he belonged.
But Summers shook his head. “There’s nothing left for me there. I’d rather stay where I’m useful.”
Howlett couldn’t argue with that. He let Summers take one last look at the young woman’s spirit, then pressed the button.
*
The underworld that came to light next seemed to be populated entirely by talking frogs in Elizabethan clothing. Howlett didn’t even hesitate before pushing the button again.
In the next world, they found themselves standing before a throne decorated with ancient runes, occupied by the Norse goddess Hela, whom Howlett had thought only existed in folklore. He pushed the button before she could punish her trespassers.
They went through an Egyptian underworld, an underworld controlled by a gleefully bragging Mephisto, an underworld full of unicorns (they left that one most quickly of all, wary after their last encounter), and even an underworld that seemed to hold no spirits at all, in which every wall, path, and river was made of cheese.
When they landed in an underworld full of the spirits of sentient robots, Summers grabbed Howlett’s arm expectantly, ready for them to teleport again. But Howlett shook him off. “These automatons look familiar,” he said. He dared not say any more, for fear that his hopes would be dashed, but he urged Summers to follow him forward.
They journeyed away from the riverbank where they’d landed, making their way through a field of lost robot souls, until they reached a higher meadow with more solid, humanoid occupants. Howlett scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar figure, and sure enough –
“Howlett!” The cry was followed by a blur of motion as a small blue figure raced across the meadow and jumped up into Howlett’s arms. “What are you doing here? Did you die too? You don’t look ghostly! Oh, hi, Corporal Summers!” Kurt continued to babble even as he shoved his cheek against the fabric of Howlett’s shirt, tightening his hug.
“Hi, son,” Howlett said, ruffling the boy’s hair and setting him back on the ground. He felt overcome by emotion, more than he’d ever expected. Kurt had been like a son to him, the kind of child he’d never thought he and Herc would be able to have. Howlett hadn’t been present for his heroic sacrifice, but he’d heard the story from Miss Blaire, and he’d been mourning quietly ever since. “It’s good to see you.”
“But seriously, how did you guys get here?” Kurt asked.
“Teleportation device,” Howlett said, holding it out to Kurt. Kurt grabbed it immediately.
“OMG, this is awesome! We learned about the possibility of interdimensional underworld teleportation in school, but I’d never seen the practical application.” Kurt turned the device over and over in his hands, then flipped open the back panel and poked at the circuits inside. Howlett wanted to stop him, but he had to admit that the kid had more experience with this kind of thing than he and Summers could possibly have.
“It runs on diluted gamma radiation in its liquid form, of course it does…” Kurt muttered, still playing with the device.
“Excuse me,” a voice said. Howlett looked up above Kurt and found himself facing Kurt’s mother and father. They looked nothing like their son, whose physical mutation erased most traces of his human heritage, but Howlett recognized them from Kurt’s picture.
Howlett tipped his hat. “Howdy, ma’am, sir,” he said. “You’ve got one heck of a kid.”
“Mom, these are my friends I told you about! Mr. Howlett and Corporal Summers!” Kurt said excitedly, stuffing the device’s guts back inside and closing it back up. “They helped me save the world! Two worlds, really.”
Kurt’s mother had an arm protectively across his chest, but she loosened her grip at the explanation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“Ma’am,” Summers spoke up, not even waiting for Howlett’s confirmation. “We think we can get your son out of here.”
That made Kurt look up. “What? But that’s not possible. No one leaves the underworld. You guys can only do it because you’re alive.”
“You may know tech, boy, but I know gods,” Howlett said. “When I go face to face with one, I’m certain I can convince him.”
Kurt looked up at his parents. “But… but I can’t just leave them here again…” he said, wringing his hands helplessly.
It was Kurt’s father’s turn to look suspicious. “You two really think you can bring him back to life?”
“I swear on my honor,” Howlett said, and he knew he was promising more than just safe travel. If they managed to save Kurt, he’d have to become the kid’s new father. It was a burden he was more than happy to take on.
Kurt’s mother pushed her son’s shoulder. “Then go, sweetheart. You’re too young. When you’ve lived a long life, I know you’ll join us again. But not now.” In the underworld, she couldn’t produce tears, but Howlett knew she’d be crying if she could.
Kurt bit his lip and handed Howlett back the device. “This is all happening so fast. Can I have a minute? To say goodbye?”
“Of course,” Howlett replied. He motioned to Summers, and they stepped away to the edge of the meadow, leaving the family some semblance of privacy.
When Kurt returned, his face was screwed up in determination, and he didn’t look back. He took a deep breath. “Ok,” he said. “Let’s do this!”
*
When the darkness cleared in the next world, it didn’t disappear entirely. In the gloom, Howlett could just barely make out the silhouettes of the damned trapped in eternal torment, suffering the same punishments over and over in cyclical eternity. This wasn’t Hades; it was Tartarus.
Howlett moved to shield Kurt from the horrors before them, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.
“Is that… is that one of the evil Xaviers?” Kurt asked, awestruck.
Howlett turned in the direction Kurt was facing. Sure enough, the first Xavier they’d encountered, the one who had controlled the gods themselves with his powers, was strung up like a marionette, strings attached to every part of his body. Above his head, a flock of crows held the strings between their talons, controlling every movement, making Xavier contort and bow and demean himself in a dozen other creative ways.
Howlett wasn’t surprised. He knew firsthand what it meant to displease the gods.
“Can’t say he doesn’t deserve it,” Howlett said. He took Kurt’s hand, and pressed the button.
*
Having Kurt with them was a bright spot in the long slog through the wrong worlds that followed. His chatter kept up Howlett’s and Summers’ spirits, and he was always quick on his feet when danger arose. When, upon their arrival in one world, a demon-wielded axe swung toward them before Howlett could get his hand on the button, Kurt grabbed each man’s arm and teleported them ten feet away, outside of the range of battle, giving Howlett that moment to regroup.
As world after world passed, though, and Hercules was still nowhere to be found, Howlett couldn’t help the seed of hopelessness that began to grow deep in his belly. There had to be infinite parallel universes. The chances of them finding the right one seemed smaller by the minute.
At the next jump, they were right outside the gates of Hades once again, with a normal, three-headed Cerberus in front of them.
“Hey!” Kurt said, grabbing their hands. “I can just teleport us past the gates!”
“Kurt—“ Summers said warningly, but Kurt squeezed his eyes shut as the Cerberus started to charge. A puff of purple smoke went up into the air, but when it cleared, they were still standing in the same place as before, and the Cerberus was upon them.
“I don’t understand!” Kurt yelled, stumbling backward.
“You can’t just teleport into Hades!” Summers said, firing at the Cerberus.
“Oh,” Kurt said. He scrambled to his feet, ready to run.
“Summers, protect the kid!” Howlett yelled, diving into the fray. “I’ve got this!”
But this Cerberus was tougher than the last, even with fewer heads, and it had caught them off guard. Howlett swiped with his claws, but so did the dog, slashing across Howlett’s chest with his paw and tearing his shirt open. Howlett knew he had to win this; he had to keep Kurt safe. But that was easier said than done. With a giant headbutt, Cerberus knocked Howlett to the ground, then bared its teeth, prepared to chomp down on Howlett’s throat.
Then, from the other side of the gate, a voice floated up into the air, singing sweetly. The song was unfamiliar, nonsense lyrics over a lilting melody, but the voice… the voice was much more familiar.
The Cerberus brought its heads up, its ears pricking at the song. It began to sway lazily to the music, and slowly but surely its eyelids began to droop. It turned around in place three times, then curled up on the ground, letting itself be lulled into a deep and peaceful sleep.
“I don’t know why you boys would want to come in here, but you have excellent timing,” said the same voice. She approached the gates and pushed them open, her long skirts swaying, blonde hair coming undone from its chignon.
“Mizz Blaire?” Kurt cried. “Is that you?”
The woman cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know me? I think I’d remember you, kid.” She looked at Summers, then Howlett. “Hey, aren’t you the president of Canada or something?”
It was Summers who stepped forward. “He is, ma’am. And if you know that, we must be in the right place. We’ve come to find Hercules.”
The woman – another Alison, evidently the one from Howlett’s world, though they’d never met here – looked at their group, then back at the gate she still held in her hand. “I heard about that. Zeus didn’t take too kindly to it, I gather.” She shrugged. “Well, I guess my triumphant escape from Hades can wait a little longer. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help out on the road to someone’s true love.” Then she winked at Summers. “Besides, I’m a sucker for a polite hottie.”
Howlett could see Summers blushing lightly as they set off to the pits of Hades.
With the four of them together – claws, blasts, bamfs, and solid light – it was easy to battle their way past the few scattered demons they encountered. When they reached the Acheron, Howlett handed over the last of his ill-gotten gold to Charon. Across the river, they waded through the lost spirits on the banks. Howlett had no idea where Herc would have ended up – a demigod hero, previously condemned, could end up in any realm of Hades. But they continued their search, through fiery rivers and idyllic pastures alike, until Howlett spotted a familiar loincloth in the distance.
He opened his mouth to call, but it was Herc whose voice carried through the cavern first. “James!” he rumbled, in the gravelly voice that could be more soothing than any lullaby. Herc began to barrel across the fields toward their group, and Howlett felt his heart swell. But just as Herc reached out to grab him, he hit an invisible wall and bounced backward. They all looked up, faces creased with confusion, and watched as Pluto himself descended to the middle of the circle they’d formed.
“Did you really think I’d let you leave so easily?” he asked, his voice echoing through the cavern. “Did you think I’d give up such a prize? A demigod of my very own, neither Elysian nor stuck down in Tartarus?” He laughed, a bone-chilling sound.
“I’m prepared to barter if need be,” Howlett said. “What can I offer you?” He was willing to give anything, up to and including his life. The world needed Herc more than it needed him.
“Nothing,” Pluto said, with a tone of finality that shook Howlett’s confidence. All the other gods he’d met could be reasoned with.
“Then we’ll just have to go to another underworld!” Kurt announced, hands on his hips. Summers grabbed him and pulled him backwards; it was a dangerous thing, threatening a god.
“What did you say to me?” Pluto thundered. He thrust out his trident, sending a shower of sparks in Kurt’s direction. But when they reached the place where he and Summers stood, the sparks fizzled out and fell harmlessly to the ground.
Pluto reared back in confusion, but Kurt only smiled. “You can’t hurt me, dude. I’m not from your dimension. You don’t have any power to keep me here. And all we have to do is grab Herc and push the button on Howlett’s device, and we’ll be out of your clutches.
Enraged, Pluto sent a burst of power in the direction of Howlett’s hand. Howlett jumped back, the muscles in his fist releasing by instinct, and the device fell to the ground. With another burst of energy, Pluto destroyed it, leaving only a smoking hole behind on the ground.
Now they’d have to leave from this underworld. They had no more options. Howlett sighed, unwilling to get angry at Kurt for messing things up. He was just a kid. They could make a different plan.
But Kurt, somehow, was still smiling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a device just like Howlett’s, if less smooth and shiny. “Good thing I made a spare, huh? I’ve been collecting materials in every underworld we’ve visited, and I understand the engineering inside and out. I’d say at this point I could make a new device in under ten minutes.”
Pluto growled, but once again his power failed to reach Kurt, or the device he held in his fist.
“The boy’s right,” Herc said, speaking up for the first time. “We could all leave at any time. But we don’t want to, uncle. We just want to go back to the realm of the living.”
“And we’ll swear fealty to your world,” Summers added. “This child and I. When we die, you’ll receive two new souls you’d not otherwise have.”
Pluto considered Kurt’s still-clenched fist and Summers’ peacefully open hands. “All right,” he said, finally. “I know when I’ve been outmatched. The four of you may go, for now.”
“Five,” Howlett said, gesturing to Alison. “She’s part of our group.”
Pluto threw up his hands. “You try my patience, mortals! Leave, all of you, before I think better of my generosity.”
Pluto vanished in a cloud of blue smoke, and Howlett didn’t waste any more time; he ran to Hercules and allowed himself to be lifted up and off the ground, enveloped in his lover’s strength and musk. “Oh, Herc,” he said, when his feet hit the ground again. And when they kissed, the rough hair on their faces brushing together as they devoured each other’s mouths, Howlett felt all the power and electricity of their first encounter, and every desperate kiss they’d shared since.
“I knew you’d come,” Herc said, nuzzling at Howlett’s neck, his arm looped around Howlett’s waist. Howlett wondered if they’d ever stop touching each other. He didn’t think he’d mind if they didn’t. “Zeus won’t be pleased,” Herc added, “but I think I can handle him.”
Howlett watched Kurt performing a tiny happy dance of victory, teleporting tiny distances in his joy. He watched Summers and Alison having a private conversation, shaking hands and trying to hide their obvious mutual attraction. He watched Herc curving his mouth up into its signature grin.
“Let’s go,” Howlett said, squeezing his lover’s hand, and he and his newfound family walked toward the light.