Chapter Text
Mythopoeia:
“So, you're really leaving.” Capochin started, watching as Hector gathered up the last of his few possessions.
“Yep.” Was all the former god of Leadership could say, stuffing a handful of socks into a backpack.
Hector didn't have many belongings since decending. Before becoming a god the things he did own were either given away or stored in a box in the back closet of Capochin's apartment.
His janky old laptop with its unreliable battery, probably even worse now due to going unused for so long. A spare set of glasses. His favorite books and some he had never gotten around to reading. Several outfits that Vibiano had been adamant that he should burn for the crime of being several decades behind the trends.
Vib had been wonderfully understanding through this whole ordeal; offering to make him a whole new wardrobe, tipping him off to what people and places to avoid for the time being that were sadly not as forgiving as the gods when it came to his recent ungodlike behavior, relaying information between him and the ex-bizzyboys still willing to give him the time of day.
When he had asked why she had chosen to forgive him, she had only said that she was ‘happy to have him back’. He had almost answered with ‘I didn't go anywhere’ but deep down he knew that wasn't exactly true. The Hector she knew, the Hector who founded the Bizzyboys in the hopes that it would give everyone purpose, the Hector who had wanted to give Drainfolk a better place in the world, he had vanished under the layers of Inspekta's ambitions to be remembered by all.
But where Vibiano was willing to accept his decention as a clean slate, Capochin was less willing to let Inspekta's transgressions go. Yelling at Hector, calling him a jerk, bringing up a laundry list of ways he had been wronged by him. Hector knew he deserved the resentment his former number one had been keeping beneath the surface for who knows how long.
But Capochin's behavior towards him was almost bipolar. There were moments that almost felt sweet, like when he had helped Hector organize the dissolving of the Bizzyboys. Or when he had offered that he stay in his apartment. Or all the times he would come to Hector's defense when a passerby would insult him.
For every punch in the arm there would be a supportive hand on his shoulder. For every slap across the face, there would be a pep talk. At any given moment Hector couldn't tell if Capochin was out for vengeance for years of emotional abuse or showing empathy for the only other person in the same boat of bad PR he was currently in.
“And just where will you be staying then, the van?” Capochin asked with folded arms and a scowl.
“Technically I spent the last 30 years in that van.” Hector shrugged.
“You know what I mean. Bein’ out there on yer own. With half the Grove still holdin’ a grudge against you.”
“They're gonna be mad no matta’ where I'm staying.”
He picked up the last item to pack off of the coffee table. A binder thick with papers, labeled “Milldread Historical Preservation Project.” He gave it a thoughtful look before carefully slipping it into his bag.
“At least this project is a start to settin’ things right.”
Capochin huffed, “Yeah, a project you don't seem to want me involved in.”
“It ain't like that, Cappy.” Hector tried to explain. “I just think it'd be good to take a break from each other for a while. At least until… I've figured a few things out.” His gaze drifted downwards.
Capochin's face contorted into a snarl.
“So forty years being at your side means nothin’ to you!? Just gonna toss me to the side, like you were gonna do at the Rift.”
The words hit Hector like an arrow to the heart, but he still tried to explain his thoughts.
“Dat's why I thought separating might be good. Cause a the way we were actin’ to each other.”
“I was only actin’ to support YOU.” Capochin yelled. “Givin’ up everything else just so you would see how dedicated I was to you. Inspekta, the Bizzyboys, You were my EVERYTHING! You were a god, I was only mortal. What else could I have done, so you wouldn't leave me behind?”
Hector paused, reading between the lines. “Click-Clack followed Thespius to godhood.” He said.
Capochin let his mouth hang open a moment before letting out a laugh.
“Ha! Like I had any chance at following you into godhood.” He laughed again, until he was almost out of breath. “The only way that could have happened is if you had offered me a spot next to you after you had kicked all the other gods out. And we both know, that wasn't gonna happen.”
Hector continued to look guiltily down at the floor. “Well, we're on even ground now, aren't we?”
Capochin could only shake his head at such a pathetic statement.
“Don't give me that. You didn't descend for me. You gave up godhood because you saw you were turning into a monster.”
He paused, his expression softening, saddening.
“And that's where I followed you, to monsterdom.” he let the realization sink in, then let out a sigh. “Yeah, maybe we haven't been so great for each other lately.”
He stood aside as Hector started to leave. Before picking up his box of things, Hector took off his backpack, took out the binder and shuffled through the pages until he found a Manila envelope. He held it out for Capochin to take.
“If yew really wanna be part of the project, I need somebody to give dis inta-view. I was gonna have Godpoke do it, but it might go easier if yew read it out.”
Capochin took out the form and gave it a quick glance over.
“Yeah, I can get this done.” He said.
Hector slipped on his backpack and picked up his box.
“When ya done yew can give that to Godpoke if ya see them. I already sent ‘um on an errand, so dell be in Buzzhuzz most a’ the day.”
He nudged open the door and took a step into the hallway. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “And, um, I'll be camped out in Milldread if yew really need me.”
Then he was gone.
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Stepping into Buzzhuzz plaza took a bit more effort than Capochin had expected. He knew he had made quite a scene the last time he had been there. So he was anticipating people recognizing him, stopping to stare or say something derogatory to him. But he was surprised that most people were going about their day, too occupied to notice he was there.
The difficult part was allowing himself to drop his guard. He felt a building anxiety with every step, like at any moment somebody would spot him and tear into him with the declaration that he wasn't welcome here. That never happened, but it only left him feeling more on edge.
“Dat ain't fair! I'm a payin’ customer!”
Capochin jumped at the shout, ready to fight until he realized the loud complaint was completely unrelated to him.
He looked over to the source of the commotion. There was a line of street vendors selling art or various knick-knacks. At one stall a drainfolk was glaring angrily at the salesperson behind the table.
“This is my shop and I can refuse service to anyone I want.” The owner claimed. “You Bizzyboys caused enough trouble around here.”
“This is racist!” The Drainian accused. “I wasn't even involved in the Buzzhuzz takeova’! You're the one causin’ trouble.”
Capochin shrank down into the crowd forming. The last thing he needed was that shop owner spotting him of all people here.
“Now hold your horses!”
The entire crowd, plus the quarreling duo, turned to the source of that shout.
Godpoke stood at the edge of the plaza, Megapon held aloft. It was evident the messenger had mastered Megapon's volume control as the interruption had echoed across the space, catching everyone's attention.
They stepped through the parted crowd, boots clicking on the pavement in the sudden silence. They approached the shopkeeper and the offended patron and adjusted a setting on Megapon.
“What's the problemo, my dudes?” They inquired via the device.
“This ‘dude’ is refusing me service all because I used to be with the Bizzyboys. Not all of us knew about Inspekta's ‘take over the Grove’ plot, ya know. Most of us were just followin’ orders.” The Drainfolk explained.
“Well, how am I supposed to know who the bad apples are? There wasn't even any kind of investigation or a trial. The whole lot of you got to get off Scott free without the guilty parties facing any consequences. I don't care if the Gods forgave them, they need to be held accountable.” The vendor ranted.
There was a murmer that rippled through the crowd of people agreeing.
“But it ain't your job to determine who's right or wrong.”
Another wave through the crowd of voices conceding that the ex-bizzyboy had a point.
Capochin sank further down, hit with the irony that not long ago it was the Bizzyboys who would be called upon to sort out a mess like this one. He waited with trepidation to see how Godpoke would handle the situation.
The Godpoke appeared to be mulling over each party's argument. They fiddled with Megapon, selecting a proper response.
“The Gods sure are cuh-razy.” The recorded voice stated. Was that Marsha from the Cove?
“That's right, they are.” The vendor nodded in agreement. “How are we supposed to trust their judgement when they're willing to let one of their own just walk away after attempting deicide? How can I feel safe knowing any one of them could have a bad decade and lose their marbles?”
“Looks like it's time to get out of Dodge.” It seemed the Godpoke liked pulling quotes from old Westerns.
The shopkeeper paused, frowning.
“I shouldn't have to leave. I've been living in the Grove my whole life. You sound like my girlfriend, she thinks we should leave too. Yeah, I feel like I can't trust the Gods anymore, but I don't want to pack up and start a new life somewhere else because of it.”
The Drainfolk who had previously been so livid, now bore a quiet expression of empathy.
“I get it. A lot of my friends have been talking about leaving the Grove too. Some of ‘um already left. All of us had to start over after Inspekta betrayed us.”
Capochin swallowed back a guilty lump in his throat. It was getting hard to keep hearing about how all the Bizzyboys had been blown back to square one because they had been misused and abandoned by their own god. A god who in his last days saw them only as tools to an end rather than the loyal human beings they were. And Capochin knew he was just as guilty for viewing them all as lesser than himself.
The vendor sighed, “I never really thought about how most of you Bizzyboys were probably victims too. Sorry I put you all in the same pot as Inspekta.”
“It's okay.” The ex-bizzyboy replied. “It's easy to get mad when everything is going to drain around you.”
The masses nodded and mumbled agreements.
“I reck'n this possy outta stick together.” Probably another quote from that Western came out of Megapon. Followed by, “We're all just produce in the big old salad of life.” No idea where that one came from.
“Godpoke's right.” Someone in the crowd said. “We need to stand together if we want to hold the gods accountable.”
More nods and agreements, then the crowd started to dissolve as everyone returned to their mid-day tasks. Soon Capochin found himself standing alone, watching as Godpoke tipped their hat to the citizens they had just settled and moved on, straight to him.
“Heh, always in the right place at the right time, eh, G?”
Godpoke held up Megapon. Hector's voice came out. “There's a couple a things I'd like yew t'get for me in Buzzhuzz, Pokey. If ya willin’.”
“Yeah, he's got me runnin’ an errand here too.” Capochin held out the envelope containing the interview questions. “What's he got you doing?”
Godpoke pointed in the direction of a looming circular building in the distance.
“Gonna be at the library, huh?”
Godpoke nodded.
“It's weird, he's not the boss a me anymore, but here I am taking orders from him still. Well… not taking orders…I volunteered to do this.” He noticed Godpoke still standing there, listening, watching in that quiet, non-judgemental way that made him gush out everything on his mind like a broken faucet. “Not like I had anything better to do today. And it's for a good cause.”
Megapon made a quick siphoning sound, indicating that Godpoke was sampling something he had just said. The messenger made eye contact again, as if waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted to say.
“Well, good luck on yer endeavors or… whatever.” he said awkwardly trying to let them know he was done.
Godpoke tipped their hat and wandered off in the direction of the library. Capochin observed them leave for a moment, then made his way to the rear of the plaza, where a glowing gateway with watching stone eyes was waiting.
[To be continued]