Paramythi III: Prometheus

“Have you gained anything from our new friend?” Merine spoke into his phone as he drove through Capitol’s remains.

The sky had turned lighter since Remiel decided to take a trip out of the city with Helios. Merine had no opinion on the God’s motives; he was just satisfied there was no rain tarnishing the paint job on his car.

“She’s not an easy nut to crack,” Erebus’ voice rattled through the static. “She’s far more reserved than Kybele had ever been.”

Merine pursed his lips. “Just get me something, anything I could use against Kane Ruskin.”

“Believe me when I say, I’m doing all I can. Yet she’s surpassing even my greatest skills.”

“What do you expect me to say to that?” Merine scoffed. He turned the corner, halting his ride as a youth clad in dirt and grime scurried across the road. He was tempted to keep driving if only it would not dent his bonnet. “Do you want me to praise her for holding up so well under your hand? She’s Rebel scum, just like the rest of them.”

“Sometimes I wonder just how well you would hold up under my methods,” Erebus chuckled. “Are you any better than the so-called Rebel scum you despise so much?”

Merine’s lips turned into a thin line. “Don’t play coy.” His voice was low, utterly unamused. “Just do what it is you’re good at; the only thing you’re good at. I expect to hear from you again within the hour.”

On the other end of the line, Erebus allowed a short sigh to escape his lips before turning back, tossing the white cased phone down onto the equally white table beside him. The walls were white, the floor was white. His clothes were the same colourless shade, as was the chair in the middle of the room where Tessa sat.

“Man, you really know how to keep a lady waiting, huh?” Tessa spat, strewing blood across the white floor.

“Apologies,” Erebus hummed, hooking his fingers around the syringes and nail clippers settled upon the table at his hip. “Shall we continue?”

Leto’s theatre had two levels of entertainment. The cover was a simple drama theatre with acts of song and dance. The reality was that people were expected to stroll in and watch a show before asking Leto if they could spend an extra hour with the performers upstairs.

Naturally, even Leto had her limits and did not put certain Faeman up for the ‘after show’ due to their age or surrounding conditions; such as Taavi, who was a little young to be scheduling her time after the show to entertain snotty nobles. In Leto’s opinion, exposing Taavi to such labours would only cause the shine in her eyes to cease and thus kill her spirit whenever she danced on stage.

Once the shine in those colourful eyes were gone, it was time to move into the brothel houses permanently. Leto found no pleasure in watching tainted souls dance. There was no profit, no benefit. The money always came in small doses that way and no tips were left behind.

It was different with Helios. His eyes had always shone, even after everything Leto had put him through years ago. He only turned dark when someone laid a hand on him, whether it be a swift touch by a passing noble during waitering hours or the more intense moments when he would get cornered by a sneering man or woman. Leto put him to the test when she had his legs amputated and replaced; yet his eyes continued to shine because no-one came near him. Thus, he was still able to dance.

Xerxes, however, was a different matter. He had been one of Leto’s very first slaves during her time commanding the goldmines and import. He had been quiet then, always scurrying around to do her dirty work by any means necessary. He still received the end of her whip and was put to work longer hours in the mines than most. But even after Leto went out of business, she had kept him around. He was her lapdog and most trustworthy follower.

Xerxes did not perform on stage often. He would always lead the dancing behind stage, coordinate the singing and acting before he sent the others up to perform. He managed Leto’s theatre whenever she was away and comforted the younger Faeman whenever they were stressed to the bone. He did not perform often because his eyes no longer shone.

He did take the burden of meeting the audience after the show, always ensuring Leto got those extra tips. He performed better behind closed doors and never turned anyone down when Leto would lead them to his bedroom. Xerxes was loyal, Xerxes was Leto’s pet. Even if he did have the Magick abilities to burn the whole theatre down.

As of late, Leto had been tending to meetings and getting herself involved with one of the few lords left, attempting to nab the Grand Hall from his clutches when he finally kicked the bucket. Leto had told Xerxes she wished for a bigger place to hold their plays and performances; it had been Xerxes to mention the Grand Hall. Leto had laughed and poured them both a glass of wine before leaving to meet with the Grand Hall’s owner.

Now, Xerxes sat in his room, reading something about Hera’s folklore, with the faint wonder of Helios’ whereabouts plaguing the back of his mind. He had been patient, waiting for the man to walk out of the Bank, only to be sent away by Remiel’s own orders. Xerxes was not a fool. He had reversed his car and drove back to the theatre with a thundering heart – solely because he could not think of what to tell Leto about leaving Helios in Remiel’s hands.

Leto had been out, much to his fortune. Hours later and she had yet to return. Taavi had complained about Helios’ absence, but Xerxes had sent her to bed with the promise Helios would come home tomorrow.

Only after midnight did Xerxes force himself to put down his book and lock up the theatre. He left a note on the table in the kitchen, just to let the troupe know he had not gone far and climbed into his car. He hated the sky, always dark and daunting whether it was the middle of the night or middle of the day. He had to admit, as he drove down the city streets, the sky had lightened up just a tad.

Paying too much attention to the sky had him miss the figure crossing the road. The car collided with a heavy thud, sending the victim off their feet. Xerxes jutted forward, wincing at the sounds filling his ears. He killed the engine hurriedly before jumping the door and approaching the man laying in the middle of the road.

Xerxes had never seen him before, nor had he ever imagined he would meet a man with ram horns. Sylvannix had fled the city of Emvolo after Remiel’s return. There was nothing to stop them from escaping the wrath of their God as they darted through Capitol and over the border into the fields and terrain.

Moments may have passed, but Xerxes could not move. His eyes were wide, peering down at the Sylvannix struggling to breathe. Another car had rolled up, the only thing to catch Xerxes’ attention away from the creature in the middle of the street. He stared, watching the car approach with beaming lights that blinded him to the point he had to raise an arm for coverage.

“Well, I believe the Gods have answered my prayers, funnily enough.” Came the sly voice of none other than Merine Trezla.

Xerxes kept his lips sealed and watched with squinted eyes as Merine climbed out of his car and walk around the vehicle to face the Sylvannix. He turned his head away when Merine smiled, kicking them onto their back.

Merine laughed. “Theo Dante. We meet again.”

“Tessa hasn’t come back yet.” Kaira announced, standing by the wall’s exit. “I don’t wanna eat without her.”

An assortment of mumbles and agreement muffled the room as Junior R’s members sat among each other, sorting through playing cards and betting on bottle caps. They treated Kaira as one of their own, as opposed to a member of the Rebellion, and had taken her under their wing since she arrived at their hideout years ago as a child.

Kaira told herself she had grown since her mother’s death. Before that, she had been a clingy daughter, never leaving her mother’s side in fear she would disappear just like her father had. Turns out no amount of clinging in the world could stop her mother from slipping through her fingers.

Kane and the others thought she had been mourning in her room thereafter. She had, at first. A moment of courage forced her to sneak out and take one of the aircrafts into the city. It had been past their curfew, yet it seemed the smallest issue when faced with her bereavement.

She had come across Junior R that night and had been traversing between the Rebel base and Junior R’s underground hideout ever since.

“Should we go looking for her?” Kaira sighed.

“Too dark.” Came one reply.

Another agreed. “Plus a search party will defo get us found out.”

Kaira rolled her eyes and walked up to the pool table, arms crossing as she pretended to be busy with studying the maps and tunnel blueprints scattered upon the green-plush surface. She had already memorised each red and green line filtering each paper, her comrades had often come to her for directions and advice on sneaking through Capitol when they were running low on supplies.

“Something just doesn’t feel right tonight.” The thoughts were spoken aloud and Kaira winced, wishing she had not said anything when Enzo appeared, disrupting the room.

“I don’t wanna like alarm anyone, but… Theo went looking for Tessa a while ago and he hasn’t come back.”

Kaira held back the urge to swear. “Why didn’t you go, Enzo? You’re way better at blending in than Theo. He’s a Sylvannix!”

“Look, don’t blame me,” Enzo held up his hands. “Theo was talking to Deimos and they came up with this great plan to sneak around Capitol undetected. I would have gone, but Theo said I had to sit this one out.”

“So, Deimos is gone, too?” Kaira tried not to laugh. “Do you really trust him?”

“Look, no offence, Kaira, but I was hoping there was an adult I could talk to about this. Shouting ain’t gonna get you very far.”

Kaira’s mouth clamped shut. She felt her head go cold and heart drop to her stomach as Enzo turned, leaving his comment in the air.

“Don’t listen to him, Kaira.” One of the Junior R’s called.

“Yeah, he doesn’t know anything. He’s just another Rebel.”

It did not take long for the announcement to come through. There were speakers and old television screens littered around Capitol, Tentrail and even below ground where the Rebels and Junior R huddled. They had all watched and listened with fear when Merine’s voice came through, announcing the capture of Tessa Padma and Theo Dante.

It came to no surprise that Merine claimed he was willing to release them if Kane Ruskin turned himself in to Capitol once and for all. The knowledge alone started a mini-riot within the underground, halted only by Maxa’s stern voice stopping her men from ‘being no better than Merine’ for trying to give Kane up.

For those who knew Kane best turned silent; knowing their former captain had already made up his mind. Even Merine had expected to see the great Kane Ruskin waltz up the steps of Capitol’s Bank before dawn tried to show itself through the cracks of the dark skies above.

But it was not Kane Ruskin. It was Twyla Tychi.

“Ruskin’s pet?” Merine spat, turning to the man behind him. “You told me that the Rebel captain would show himself if I took the Sylvannix!”

“What can I say?” From behind Merine, Deimos shrugged. Purple flesh adorned the surface around his left eye, accompanied with a split lip and busted nose. He swallowed the gob of blood forming in his mouth and scratched his neck, rattling the handcuffs dug into his wrists. “The concussion really got to me.”

“Mind if I interrupt?” Twyla cooed. They placed their hands behind their back, floating above the ground. The smile on their face was devious and frightening, fashioned with a row of sharp teeth as black veins rippled along their cheeks. “Kane was supposed to arrive, but I tampered with that future. So, you get me instead. Sorry, boys.”

Merine growled, taking a step forward. “Where is Kane Ruskin?”

“Asleep. I made sure of that myself,” Twyla giggled. “As for his exact location, I will never tell you.”

“You may not, moon-grace, but Deimos will.” Merine turned, holding a gun to the man’s coral-haired head. “Lest he wish his brains be splattered on Remiel’s carpet.”

Twyla was quick, snapping their fingers. The gun in Merine’s hand caved on the inside until it was nothing but a floating metal ball. It flew, targeting Deimos’s forehead. The impact was enough to knock the man out without causing too much damage, other than another bruise. Merine swore and Twyla laughed.

“You’re going to regret taking your beloved captain’s place.”

Yeah. Twyla closed their eyes, accepting the feeling of Merine’s Magick taking over. I know.