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Odysseus screamed, startled by the massive angry face filling his vision. Heracles threw himself backward, crushing Adresteia against one of the sarcophagi, but Odysseus popped the seal on his own and forced it open violently, clipping Heracles's jaw with the rising door. The move stunned the demigod long enough for Odysseus to scramble out of his sarcophagus and regroup with Penelope, who'd slipped out of her own. Heracles recovered quickly though and resumed his brawl with Adresteia. Both were looking tired, but in the tight confines of the chamber, Adresteia was at a distinct disadvantage.
Odysseus snatched up his bow and tried to get a clear shot at the demigod, but couldn't get angle on him. "Addy," Odysseus shouted, "Time for a change of venue!" He grabbed Penelope's hand and ran back to the larger chamber where Heracles had pried the door open. Adresteia waited until she got a good hit in, then shifted to her owl form and flew frantically after them, stealing the light behind her and plunging the tunnels into darkness.
Enraged to the point of having forgotten the job he was ostensibly sent to do, Heracles groped about in the dark for his massive club and tried to give chase, tripping or crashing through pipes, railings, and eevery other thing he happened to veer into while careening down the hallway in the dark.
Odysseus and Penelope escaped through the large door with the strange writing, followed closely by Adresteia in her owl form, but all three came to a hard stop when they found themselves cut off. A regally dressed woman waited for them with a number of the animated metal skeletons they'd encountered earlier. She wore a dress of beautiful fall colors, hemmed with hellfire.
"Queen Persephone!" Odysseus shouted and fell to his knees, pulling Penelope with them. With a death goddess in front of him and a homicidal demigod behind them, Odysseus saw no choice but to begin groveling.
"Alright, that's enough of that," a voice came from behind them. A tall dark-haired man with sharp features appeared from thin air as he took off his strange helmet - it was Persephone's husband, Hades. "You're embarrassing yourself man."
“Lord Hades,” Odysseus said politely, “Please forgive our unannounced visit. We trespassed in the underworld with good intentions and..."
"Ha," Hades laughed, "Good intentions? It's funny because, you know, 'the road to hell' and all that... right? Right?"
Persephone shook her head.
"Yeah, well, whatever intentions you may have had, two mortals, breaking into Tartarus? That's not the sort of thing that gets you a slap on the wrist kiddos. Doesn't really matter what story you have to justify it."
“Oh, darling, I think you should indulge them,” Persephone said, “We never host visitors.”
“If you’re lonely, throw a dinner party,” Hades said.
“Oh you know no one will eat anything we put out,” Persephone said, “No one trusts us not to lace their food with biotags again.”
“Hey, it was a good plan at the time,” Hades said, “but very well. Why were you two mucking around in Prometheus's simulation? And why is all the data from his server screwy now?”
"Screwy?" Penelope asked.
"Fragmented," Persephone explained.
"Yeah, like I said, screwy," Hades said, “Look, who sent you two?” Hades said, “Did they tell you what you were getting into?”
“We’re not really supposed to say,” Odysseus answered. At that, the room briefly grew darker than it already was, and Adresteia appeared from the shadows behind Odysseus and Penelope in her winged goddess form.
“Nemesis?” Hades leaned forward, “Is that you? Wow, I really thought it was odd that you two mortals were running around down here with an owl, but I didn’t ask. I should have asked. You look good, Nem. How long has it been? Twenty years or so? I thought you said we'd see you again soon?"
“Life has been complicated,” Adresteia answered as she forcibly closed the door Heracles had pried open earlier, “I have wanted to visit you on many occasions, but I've been too busy.” She smiled at Persephone, “It’s nice to see you again, Percy.”
"Too busy? For twenty years? What have you been doing for twenty years? We thought you were dead!"
"Nemy, did you smile at me? Did you actually smile?"
"Yeah, I guess I did," Adresteia said, "Time among the humans has done me a lot of good."
“Well, whatever's been going on, you look great,” Hades said, “Being a free agent clearly suits you. And you sound better, too. I mean, I remember you being a bit on the depressingly monotone side, honestly, but I digress. Why are you down here? I’m sure you’re not slumming it with mortals – uh, no offense – because you’re friends?”
“We are actually,” Adresteia said, “Friends, I mean, but we are also here today on business. From Athena.”
“Ohhh…” Hades said, “So that’s been you perched on her shoulder for the past few decades?”
“Yes, Lord Hades.”
“Well this is an interesting twist,” Hades stroked his goatee, "What interest does Athena have in Prometheus?"
"She seemed to feel the punishment Zeus sentenced him to was excessive, and sent us to correct that."
“Mmhmm. But why not come down here herself and just ask me?”
“I believe, my lord, that Athena would prefer that Zeus not know that Prometheus's circumstances had changed,” Adresteia said.
“Ah, the plot thickens then. Athena's plotting against Zeus. Again."
"Again?" Adresteia asked.
"Yeah, she and Hera and Poseidon ganged up on him at one point to try and take him down. It was a rather embarrassing debacle for everyone involved, so they all agreed to keep it pretty quiet. I think Zeus had you hunting for heretics in the northern Aegean at the time. Anyway, if Athena's got some other plot to topple Zeus, I honestly couldn't care less about that.”
“You’re not concerned with your brother maintaining his position?” Adresteia said.
“Oh, if Olympus falls, Percy and I may have to change our names, but so long as people fear the great unknown, they will always defer to our authority. And if they don’t, I’ve got six warehouses full of happy little high-as-a-kite, dreamers providing us with all the ambrosia Persephone and I would need to last for a very long time.”
"If Olympus falls?" Penelope repeated Hades' choice of words. Such apocalyptic musings from the mouth of a god were distressing to say the least.
"Right now we have a more pressing problem," Adresteia said, "Heracles helped us get in here, but then he erupted into a violent rage and attacked us."
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," Persephone said, "That ogre of a man is a ticking bomb."
"What's a bomb?" Penelope whispered to Odysseus. Odysseus simply shrugged.
There was a thunderous impact against the metal door behind Adresteia, followed by another, and another. The sound was deafening, and the door slowly began to cave in.
“Herakles is here,” Persephone said flatly.
“Thank you honey; do you have any other current events to share?” Hades said sarcastically.
“Lord Hades, in a fight between a god and a demigod,” Odysseus said, “you can take him down easily... right?”
“In a contest of managerial skills or intellect, certainly,” Hades said, “In base fisticuffs, I am less confident.”
“Zeus had him engineered in case he ever needed a new body,” Persephone said, “he’s as close to the original as it comes. And the original is admittedly, quite a specimen.”
“We have him outnumbered,” Adresteia said, electricity crackling from her finger tips. Fighting Heracles had exhausted her, but the smell of the demigod’s sins was now rejuvenating her.
“And an anthill outnumbers an anteater,” Hades said as he positioned himself in front of Persephone and waved for the two mortals to get behind them.
There was a final thud, and the door buckled. Heracles seized hold of it, ripped it from its hinges, and tossed it aside.
"A wooden club?" Persephone said, "That's a mistake." She waved her hand and the dead wood came to life and mutated, sprouting two-inch thorns that stung Heracles's hand. Disarmed, Heracles grabbed the 2-inch titanium rods that had pinned the door's hinge and ripped them free. He spun them in his hands, banged them against the floor, and pointed one at Adresteia before assuming a fighting stance.
"Hey now," Hades said, "Okay, let's just slow up for a moment and talk about this."
Herakles charged forward.
Adresteia had held back some when surrounded by the sleeping titans, but now in a larger space with Hades, Persephone, and a cadre of Tartarus's automatons to protect her human companions, she went all out. created a scourge out of lightning and caught one of his metal rods with it. The crackling blue tendrils wrapped around the metal and conducted into Herakles body.
Unfortunately, when Herakles was created, Zeus had had him tweaked to be the ideal vessel for his power. Although Herakles had some flaws in his creation, this was not one. As the lightning channeled into his body, he did not smoke, burn, or convulse. Instead, his eyes glowed white, electricity arched between his teeth, and Odysseus was fairly sure the demigod got slightly younger.
Herakles twisted and struck Adresteia with his other weapon, the titanium striking with such force that her arm broke under the impact. Her weapon dissipated, and she was thrown back against the wall. Odysseus shouted angrily and began firing his bow at Herakles as rapidly as possible. The arrows were only barely more effectual than they had been against Ares in the arena. The Nemean Lion's indestructible pelt intercepted many shots. Those that actually struck Heracles stuck in the demigod’s skin like porcupine quills; the injuries painful and irritating, but not threatening. However, Herakles deflected Odysseus’s last arrow with one of his improvised batons – sending it straight into his own eye.
“That was lucky!” Penelope commented.
“I really need to poison my arrows…” Odysseus said as Heracles snapped the arrow shaft and advanced despite the loss of his eye.
“Can you summon some roots to entangle him or something?” Hades asked his wife.
“This deep in the earth?” Persephone answered, “Even if we weren’t in a steel box I couldn’t pull that off.”
Heracles swept aside the contingent of automatons like they were toys, and charged at Hades. Heracles struck at him with one of the rods. Hades stood his ground and caught the baton in one hand – the impact was so painful that he nearly let go, but he tightened his grip. He tried to catch the other rod the same way, but Herakles jabbed him with it, instead of swinging it. Hades lost his grip on the other weapon and staggered back, clutching his broken ribs and gasping painfully for air.
“Alright,” Persephone said as Herakles closed in, “Now I’m mad.”
“And what exactly is the goddess of the autumn trees going to do?” Herakles scoffed as blood streamed from the arrowhead in his eye socket.
“I’m the goddess of spring flowers too, dumbass,” Persephone blew in his face, exhaling a fine golden dust. Herakles, breathing heavily from the exertion and pain, got a big lungful of it and started coughing violently. His remaining eye teared up, the irritant blinding him, and he began sneezing uncontrollably. Persephone’s hand turned green, sprouting small, heart-shaped leaves, and she grabbed Heracles by the wrist. He recoiled from her grasp with a shout, looking incredulously at the painful red handprint.
“Dendrocnide moroides,” she explained, “The stinging silica hairs on its leaves are so fine they can penetrate even your skin, and they carry a cocktail of poisons, including moroidin. Not native to this hemisphere, fortunately, but that burning sensation you feel right now? It’s going to get worse – much, much worse – So unless you have the patience and dexterity to pick the hairs out without breaking them and some hydrochloric acid handy to wash the wound, back off, or in a few hours you’ll be begging my husband to kill you.”
Not comprehending the gravity of her threat, Heracles instead roared with fury and moved to attack the vegetation goddess. Adresteia jumped him from behind – it had taken a considerable toll on her to heal her arm so quickly, but beneath all of Heracles’s rage there was now an underlying fear that was fueling Nemesis.
Adresteia’s talons couldn’t penetrate the lion pelt, so she gripped it with one hand, reached over Heracles's shoulder to plunge the talons of her other hand into the meat of his bare chest, and drove the talons on her feet into his calves. Herakles thrashed angrily, trying to pry her grip free of him. She lost her grip with her feet, but she reached up to Herakles’s face with her freehand and slapped the broken arrow shaft protruding from his face. The arrowhead cracked through the back of the eye socket and penetrated a small distance into his brain’s temporal lobe. The demigod writhed with violent spasms, and finally pitched her across the room. He dropped one of his weapons to dig the arrowhead out of his eye socket. Blood and cranial fluid poured out of the injury.
Hades was now back on his feet. “That looks pretty bad,” Hades said as he walked towards their attacker, “though I suppose it’s not a mortal wound for an exceptional demigod like you. Fortunately, mortality is my specialty.”
Heracles’s hearing and vision distorted wildly as his temporal lobe misfired, and what words he heard he could no longer understand nor could he recognize the face of the man speaking them. He swung his remaining weapon at Hades again, but the swing was much weaker, and the god of death caught it easily with one hand. He reached out and placed his free hand on Heracles’s chest, right over his heart, “This is my mercy.”
Heracles felt for a moment as if ice was spreading through his veins, but the chill subsided after an instant, and the pain of his injuries intensified. Persephone’s toxin coursed through his body; his joints burned with pain and his chest swelled painfully under his arms. As the anaphylactic shock finally hit, his blood pressure plummeted – paired with the blood loss through his eye injury, his heart struggled. Heracles wobbled, and finally keeled over like a capsized ship.
“Is he dead?” Odysseus asked.
Hades pushed the lump of meat with one foot, “My professional opinion? Yes.”
Herakles moved, his good eye fluttering open.
“I thought you said he was dead!” Penelope shouted.
“He’s as good as dead,” Hades shrugged.
Adresteia put one of her clawed feet down on Herakles’s throat and drove all the talons into it, “Ladon sends their regards.” With a twist of her ankle, she completely tore Herakles’s throat out. The wound bubbled as the air escaped through his severed windpipe, and his eyes glazed over.
“See,” Hades turned to Penelope, “He’s dead.”
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