Flightless

“I would rather die.”

“Then so be it.”

The room fell still as Dracula’s line seemed to suck the air out of the room. The silence was interrupted by the pulse of the music floors above them. Slowly stepping back, Hermes shifted his weight on his back foot as his eyes darted to the left and the right. Behind him was the entrance they had first came through, but Loki was in front of the door. He inhaled sharply, trying to weigh his options. Maybe if he moved fast enough, he’d be able to bypass Loki and barrel through the door. Maybe, he could cause some sort of explosion, something to get someone’s attention, something to by himself time to escape. The possibilities ran through his head, but not fast enough. Dracula lunged, a clawed hand grasping for Hermes neck. Hermes ducked, digging his heels into the marble floor as he darted past, getting pushed further into the room. Bracing himself, he dashed toward the desk towards the back of the room, he was going to use it as leverage to leap and make it into the air. His speed was unparalleled, not even Loki had been able to predict his moves, and Loki was still standing on the other side of the room. Hermes felt a surge of energy rocket through him as his hand grabbed at the front of the desk. Adrenaline and fear. He vaulted himself up into the air and onto the desk. Just as he was reading himself to leap, a blur caught his attention in the corner of his eye, but he was too slow to stop it. The projection of Loki across the room faded and Loki, the true Loki, seemed to apparate from the shadows, daggers in hand.

Hermes was too slow to react as the blades caught his leg as he leap, slicing off one of the small wings attached to his shoes and plunging into his calf and sliding down his ankle. This sent the god plummeting. Hermes was skidding across the floor with series of horrid thuds. Once he came to a stop, Hermes grit his teeth, sucking air through them sharply as his hand came down to touch at the slice across his tendon, fingers trembling as they pressed at the wound. It had been so long since the last time he had felt pain, it was searing, but oddly familiar. He looked up, staring at Loki’s dagger from across the room. There was a bluish tint to the blade and it looked, almost as if it was crackling with energy. Hermes didn’t have time to think about this further, he knew he had to escape. Summoning his caduceus, Hermes attempted to use it as a cane and force himself to his feet, he didn’t have the chance as Dracula sent a swift kick to Hermes’ abdomen. There was a painful crunch upon impact and it knocked the wind right out of him. Hermes wheezed painfully as he was thrown from his spot on the floor and rolled, his caduceus flying from his hand. Landing on his back, Hermes struggled to catch a breath, but Dracula had followed him to his spot, putting a foot on the fallen God’s diaphragm, pushing the air out of him slowly.

“Don’t you understand yet, Hermes?”

Dracula held his hand out, blue light and energy beginning to spark from the palm of his hand as Hermes’ eyes widened with fear. He knew exactly what it was. He knew the level of destruction that Dracula had access to.

“You’re the beginning of a new world.”
A scream forced its way out of Hermes’ lungs as Zeus’ thunderbolt was thrust into his uninjured leg. For a split second, iridescent streaks of light crawled up Hermes’ leg before his leg burst into a splatter of golden gore across the ground. Hermes saw white for a moment as the pain tore its way through his body. There was no time to catch his breath, no time to process the pain as Dracula stabbed the bolt into one of Hermes’ arm and then the other seconds later. Dracula’s eyes were wide with hunger and delight as he watched Hermes, the beloved messenger god crumple and teeter on the edge of death beneath his boot. His mouth was twisted into a wide, wide grin that pulled at the corners of his face. Hermes’ body was convulsing as he stared up at Dracula and then the dim lights on the ceiling.

“…I…d…don’t...”

I don’t want to die.

Hermes’ last thought was shattered as Dracula jammed the bolt into Hermes’ chest. A loud, inhuman shriek left Hermes’ as energy began to surge through his body. Then there was silence. All that was left of the messenger god was a splatter of golden gore across the ground and Dracula’s boots and a head. Dissipating the bolt into thin hair, Dracula held out a hand towards Loki. Loki, who had watched the rest of the encounter while sitting on Dracula’s desk leisurely, reappeared next to the vampire with a mask adorned with small wings on either side. A prayer mask, devoted to the once loved god Hermes, was placed in Dracula’s hand. Placing the mask onto the disembodied head, light began to shimmer around the mask.

“….May this be the first of many deaths, may this be the turning point in this wretched world….may this be the first mask of the divine.” Dracula whispered, voice hauntingly calm as he watched.

Reaching down, he pried the mask from Hermes’ head and watched it spark with a golden light. The end was now unavoidably in motion.