Chapter Text
Living for as long as I have, you’d have experienced flying through the air many times before, but hurling towards the ground was an entirely different matter. I, Hermes–messenger of the gods, patron of merchants, god of thieves–had now been stripped of all my divinity.
Now, I have lived a very long life. I stole Apollo’s cattle when I was a mere infant, created the glorious internet–which you all seem to treat as a lifeline–I even guided the robbers responsible for the Louvre robbery.
But I had never flapped through the air like a wingless bird. Sure, I'd flown before—that was practically my specialty—but this was different. It was as if every drop of divinity had leaked out of me before I'd even begun to fall. And to make it worse, some scrawny looking acne-covered teenager was plummeting right beside me. Who was this unfortunate mortal?
But there was no time for questions, glass buildings blurred into long streaks and the feeling of falling had made me numb. I slipped into a narrow opening between two buildings, which shot past me, and then KABOOM!
If any of you can think of a more humiliating landing than face-planting into some putrid pit, I'd like to hear it. Gods, it felt like I’d broken every bone in my body, which actually shouldn’t have been possible. I just lay there for a couple moments, taking in everything that’d just happened. My body ached, my head was fuzzy, and my power was simply gone.
I searched my mind, trying to find anything that would explain what in Olympus just happened, but only one memory kept reoccurring.
YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.
I’m sorry? I forced my mind to remember more, what did I do? I had no idea. My head pounded and it felt as if I were about to drift into an endless slumber when one more memory popped up.
“You cannot punish him, father. Why blame one person when it was the doing of all?”
It was me, protecting someone. Protecting Apollo. Zeus had been punishing him, allowing Apollo to take the blame for something that all of Olympus was most likely to blame for.
“You wish to protect this scoundrel? Then you too can fall with him.”
My heart ached as I thought about Luke. Luke Castellan. He had turned towards Kronos because of my negligence, and now he was dead. He had been for over a year. I have been delivering messages for a millennia, yet somehow I’d never managed to say the words Luke needed to hear.
If anything, I should’ve been punished. Not Apollo.
My eyes fluttered open and I stared up at the bright sky. Birds flew freely, the clouds looked almost edible. It almost felt mocking, how it was shining down upon me. I tried to hoist myself up, though I knew I couldn’t, and that’s when I heard a weak voice coming from beside me.
“Yes… Yes, that's it.”
I whipped my head to turn towards the lanky teenager, what was he on about? Had the fall knocked him senseless? I admit, I forgot he was there.
Then that’s when it hit me. That was no lanky teenager. That was Apollo.
“Apollo?” I whispered, staring at him dumb founded. He stared back at me for a few seconds more before the realisation finally hit his eyes.
“Hermes?”
He looked at me like a lost puppy for a couple moments, as if I were some divine being from the heavens sent down to save him. Technically, I was a divine being, but my new form said otherwise.
We stared at each other for an awkward amount of time–probably because I was staring at his acne-covered mortal face–until I managed to ask the one question that kept lingering in my mind.
“What has happened to us?”
Apollo pursed his lips. I could tell he knew the answer, but knowing my brother, I knew the answer had gone against his prideful ego.
“Whatever it is…” I snuck a knowing look at Apollo, “I’m sure Zeus will reconsider.”
I looked up from my lap, expecting his face with an endearing smile plastered on top (it’s Apollo, I don't know what I was expecting), but instead I was met with a foot in my face and a weak body trying to pull itself up and out of what I soon discovered to be a dumpster.
I caught one of the edges of the bin, and pulled myself up out of the filth. I must say, the dumpster was not an ideal landing pad, but at least we didn’t tumble into oncoming traffic. Have you seen the roads these days? People sure have places to be, it’s not impossible that a car would run me straight over.
I lent my hand to Apollo, which he swatted away.
“No need, no need. I’m capable of helping myself.” He muttered as I watched him struggle. I had to bite the inner sides of my cheeks to stop my grin.
Despite the classic myth about how I stole his cattle, we’ve come a long way over the years, and our bond has transformed into close friendship. Considering his radiant divine form, it was rather unusual to see him in such a state.
I decided Apollo was fine helping himself, and began looking around at my surroundings. I’d always been naturally gifted with knowledge about my whereabouts, but it felt as if something was blocking my sense of direction. Perhaps my head was still passively pounding, I’m not sure. Or maybe it was the fact that we were stranded in a grimy alleyway. The type where one would go to do all sorts of things. Judging my current area, I presumed that I was most likely somewhere in Manhattan, or possibly Brooklyn? I was really very clueless, and the fact I couldn’t tell where I was made my stomach twist.
I had always known where I was.
Always.
Inspecting my appearance, I appeared to be a hispanic male, maybe around 15? Ratty converses on my feet, ripped jeans, and some dusty band shirt consisted of my clothing. I mean, it wasn’t terrible, but there were better options for an outfit.
I felt awfully heavy as well. Not as in obese, but—ah, you know what I mean. I’m not sure if it was the bulky clothing, or the feeling of standing for too long, but there was a heavy weight bounding me to the ground.
“Check your pants pocket, it seems I’ve an ID in here.” Apollo called out, “Lester Papadopoulos, I seem to be.”
“What an unfortunate name.”
“Unfortunate indeed.”
I stuck a hand down my pocket and pulled out a tacky leather wallet. A few dollars and a New York state junior driver’s license with a small picture of a ragged boy with messy hair and the name Milo Nikolaidis. It’s not the worst name, but I could definitely name better options for this young man.
I wandered around the dumpster, looking to see if anything fell along with me and Apollo, but alas, there was nothing. Just old crumpled magazines and plastic packets with questionable substances in them, and I was about to come back and join Apollo in whatever he was doing, when a raspy voice called out from the end of the alley, blocking our exit.
“Hey, Cade. Take a look at this loser.”
I ducked back behind the bin as two men stood before Apollo, short and blond, tall and ginger; clad in oversized hoodies and baggy pants (which I’m not sure why mortals have such a strange obsession with wearing oversized clothing nowadays). Serpentine tattoos sprawled across their necks, which reminded me of George and Martha, the snakes which were intertwined on my caduceus. I then realised I was without my beloved caduceus, and I considered that one of the reasons I felt so empty.
The ginger, whose name I learnt was Cade, shifted his gaze from Apollo to the wallet in his hand.
“Now, be nice, Mikey. This guy looks friendly enough.” The grin on his face widened as he reached down and pulled a hunting knife from his belt. “In fact, I bet he wants to give us all his money.”
I placed a hand over my mouth, silencing me from making any noise. Yes, I wanted to help Apollo in his dilemma, why wouldn’t I? And I knew better than to bring a knife to a gun fight, or rather, fists to a knife fight… But I knew that I wouldn’t get anywhere because my divinity was stripped and all I was armed with was my bare fists. I hoped that Apollo knew that as well, although his determined expression told me otherwise, and I knew that whatever he was thinking, it was something about protecting Lester Papadopolous’s wallet.
“I am Apollo,” he declared. “You mortals have three choices: offer me tribute, flee, or be destroyed.”
I wanted to slap him right then and there, but I couldn’t, so I smacked my forehead instead. His voice squeaked on the word, destroyed, and I saw the ginger’s smirk turn into a mocking laugh. I wanted to turn their tattoos into real snakes and order them to strangle the two.
“What do you think, Mikey?” he asked his friend, Mikey. “ Should we give this guy tribute?”
Mikey scowled. He had platinum blonde hair, but you could see his roots starting to grow.
“Not feeling the tribute, Cade. What were the other options?” His voice was one of those voices where you could tell that they smoked.
“Fleeing?” said Cade.
“Nah.”
“Being destroyed?”
Mikey snickered. “How about we destroy him instead?”
Cade flipped his knife and managed to catch it by the handle. A deed that was rather impressive despite him planning to punch a god’s lights out. “I can live with that. After you.”
Apollo slipped the wallet back into his pocket and raised his fists. I already knew that he was losing this fight, from the second he started going off about some tribute, flee, or be destroyed, nonsense.
“I warned you.” Apollo told them, “My powers are far beyond your comprehension.”
Mikey cracked his knuckles, “Uh-huh.”
I looked back behind me to see if there was any object that was sure to do some damage. My eyes skimmed across the ground before landing on a glass bottle. It was shattered and there was a big glass shard lying right next to it. Big enough for me to use as a weapon. My hand wrapped around the shard, getting ready to wield it when I heard a loud thud, then a fragile groan. I whipped my head back towards Apollo and the thugs.
“Mikey,” Cade said. “Are you comprehending this guy’s power?”
“Nah,” Mikey replied. “I’m not comprehending it.”
“Fools!” Apollo croaked out. “I will destroy you!”
“Yeah sure,” Cade said irritably as he tossed his knife. “But first, I think we’ll stomp you.”
The glass I was holding slipped from my hand, slicing my palm clattering to the floor, as Cade raised his boot and planted it down into Apollo’s face. I hissed at the pain and cradled my hand, which had begun to bleed. Pure, crimson blood.
Mikey turned his head to look at me, a smirk spreading across his face.
“Well, look at this, Cade. We’ve got ourselves another one on the market.” Mikey said in a grating voice.
Cade was busy kicking Apollo as Mikey began to advance on me.
I spun to sprint away, after all I was the fastest god, but my legs refused as I stumbled toward the ground. Mikey pulled my back by the collar of my shirt, and I landed hard on my back. He then stabbed me in the arm with the glass shard, digging it deep into my skin and dragged the shard down from my shoulder to my wrist. My arm burned as the air hit my open wound.
As Mikey lifted his boot over my chest, the last thing I heard was Apollo’s raspy and feeble voice yelling, “Wait!”.