Clinging onto the nearby wall for support, Apollo felt the rough brick surface scrape against his fingers, leaving shallow cuts as he judged his recent actions. In his hand was his new addition, a stolen Shard gained by humiliating a city guard thoroughly, and nearly getting his skull crushed, now who would want to see that? The shard's lack of a glow was eerily disturbing, as if the weapon were eating away at the light, albeit how little there was, around it.
And if you were wondering where Apollo was currently seeking refuge,
'You shouldn't.'
He was crouched down in the complex sewer systems that resided deep underground in the Citadel, a place where the air didn't just smell bad; it had a weighted presence that fought its way down his throat, pushing down on him so much that he felt like gagging.
Drip, drop-
If Apollo had thought the abhorrent fragrance of a bin was certainly unappealing, then being in here was the equivalent of jumping the gun to a total scale increase of fifteen.
Drip, drop-
He struggled to remain conscious, not just from the assault to his nasal passages, but also the added fact that he was slowly blurring out of existence... Like his heartbeat, which was dwindling, growing thinner and thinner, causing his eyesight to dim slightly.
'Normal Tuesday, huh?'
Drip, drop-
A few metres away, a constant dripping irritated him, while also grabbing his attention. It was as if the sound clung to the back of his brain, desperately clawing him closer. Apollo shrugged off the sound as best he could, yet it still persisted.
To put his mind at ease, he tried assessing his surroundings- Despite his senses feeding him data to the millisecond, with no moment of rest, which was slowly starting to drive him insane.
In trying to figure out a way to escape, he noticed strange markings etched onto the wall, as if it was scratched on with white and red ink, a symbol of a skull was pierced through with a red sword.
Drip, drop-
He leaned in closer. The skull-and-sword symbol was gouged deep into the jagged bricks, white lines veined with red, yet something was missing... Twisting his head sideways, he glanced back at his hand that was outstretched to the wall.
Freeze- It was scraped against bricks, with the rough edges biting hungrily into his flesh. His palm was shredded with chunks of brick lazily lounging on the base of his hand.
Drip, drop-
Eyes widening in shock, he pulled his hand away from the greedy wall to observe it more closely. It was laced in cuts and wounds, the blood welling up. But-
"What the hell?" Apollo couldn't help but leave the hinges of his mouth open; in place of where his blood should have been, a tar-like, ink-like liquid pooled in his hand and overflowed from the side of it, the drops sidling off.
Drip, drop-
As pain returned to his gashed hand, ignited in pure cartoon fashion by his attention, so did his senses, a hundredfold (probably); they grew in intensity, making the aroma floating around Apollo seem like a gas chamber. His eyes bulged as he backed into the sharp, damp wall of the sewers... Right into the symbol plastered rebelliously across the enclosure.
Without realising it, Apollo had backed into the symbol, and only thought to curse at the honed edges. They were like teeth ripping at him. Though unbeknownst to him, a signal waved across the wall, alerting those who set it up that an intruder entered their domain and certainly had no permit.
Drip, drop-
Without Apollo's permission, and would certainly be on the grounds of stalking, a sharp pair of eyes examined the pathetic display of him trying to wipe the blood off his hand onto the rags he wore as clothes.
A dark voice stabbed the vile fragrance, filled with a twisted assortment of bliss that shaped from the hidden figure; it seemed somewhat amused.
"A loser that lost his way? I thought the shit-heads above only bled gold." A dark chuckle resounded from the mouth of the hidden fiend.
[ User Skill: Stealth is fraying ]
A dark glow of crimson blood bled from the fiend's neck, his Sponsor mark glowering in warning.
{ They can see you, it's best to get out if you value your life }
[ We wish the user luck in their treacherous mission ]
"Right on time, you damned Sponsor," The mysterious figure's sponsor mark pulsed as he started gaining presence. The eyes in the dark shifted as he took a step back into the shadows. The shape of the figure merged with the darkness permeating the poorly lit sewers, as if he were never present in the first place.
He pulled out a small pouch, about the size of his palm, from one of the many compartments layering his trench coat. His hand felt inside it for a second and pulled out a shimmering gemstone. Covering it with his other hand, he brought it close to his face, illuminating a long scar stretching from the top of his eyebrow through his eyelid and ending on the top quiver of his lip, not to mention other minute cuts wrapping his crude features, like a Christmas wrapping
His mouth gaped, and through went the tiny gemstone, chewing carefully he broke the gem into powder before promptly swallowing. Instantly, his slight fatigue faded, and a voice registered in front of him.
A slight tremor ran through his body as the tiny drug dug into his body, his pupils flashed black before promptly returning to their normal shade of green.
[ User has consumed Weak-Grade Gemstone ]
[ User may continue his conniving acts through skill: Stealth ]
"Activate Stealth," And suddenly his solidifying body turned nearly invisible once again.
Meanwhile, Apollo was midway through checking the return policy of his so-called "powers".
'Zero stars. Would not recommend. The sponsor didn't even include a damn manual.'
Apollo wouldn't be surprised if the warranty only covered people who still exist, which would be a slight problem for him, considering his existence was sort of being erased entirely...
Drip, drop-
While mentally drafting his 1-star review for whatever cosmic website had a rating system for Sponsors, his overwhelming senses subdued slightly, allowing him to catch a glimpse of marking plastered on the wall. The red ink had gone subtly brighter, a change most people could not comprehend. Yet, Apollo's current sensory overload let him notice, clearly, that the marking had reacted to his touch and sent a signal to whoever was responsible for setting up the symbol.
Drip -
"Damnation-"
Was all Apollo could utter before the clawing noise of dripping suddenly cut to a dead stop, as if something was blocking its irritating path -
Something, or someone.
Before his brain could compute his next move-
A thin blade of steel grazed the front of his neck, the jagged, yet rusty steel biting into his neck, and the terrifying feeling as small streams of black blood dripped down his nape. The cold steel of the knife not only threatened Apollo's life, but also his nervous system, which was currently being fried by the sensations of the knife-
As if the bomb of his senses had just been relit.
Even though Apollo knew squirming in place would not help, considering there was a knife biting into him at a pretty dangerous angle, he really couldn't help it, the pain from his brain being overloaded by the cool touch of the knife, cold as winter ice- The torment afflicted by the jagged edges feasting on his neck- And not to mention that the damn dripping was at it again!
This struggle only made the mysterious fiend, who Apollo swore was silently sniggering, press harder, the knife now visibly protruding from Apollo's skin, causing an even more pronounced downpour of blood onto whatever rags he was wearing as clothes. Little droplets even managed to join the parade forming in the river of debris, waste, junk, even the occasional corpse littering the sewage water flow, with everything else that should be shunned by the dark.
The assassin leaned in closer, and the smell of a sharp, metallic scent clogged Apollo's brain. "Any last words for me to hear, Prince?" Drawing his mouth closer, "Or do you just plan on leaking until there's nothing left to bury?"
Apollo physically winced... Do people not brush their damn teeth here?
At this point, the surge of senses was reaching the point of being genuinely unbearable, and Apollo was sure that he could collapse at any moment-
Thu-kuk-
"Hm?" Before Apollo could comprehend the slicing sound behind him, a thud shook the floor beneath him, climbing up his body, as the assassin, to Apollo's confusion, loosened his grip on the knife, before promptly dropping it. His hand and body soon followed suit...
Apollo took this opportunity to glance back at the mysterious perpetrator, but all he saw for a split second was a head glaring at him-
With no body attached-
Apollo's eyes bulged, his mouth hanging loosely as he stared at the decapitated head. He didn't even have time to offer a snarky comment about the assassin's dental hygiene, or even suggest his own personal choice of toothpaste (The ones he found in the bin next door), before the world stuttered again, clearly insistent that it wasn't done.
The perpetrator, a lithe figure draped in a far too shimmering grey mantle, stood over the body, triumphant, holding a blade that hummed a frequency that made Apollo's teeth chatter.
But they didn't get to enjoy the victory for long. Long enough...
Crunch-
In the dark, A wet crunch resounded behind him. The noise had a tint of flavour that made Apollo shriek inwardly, though no sound managed to come out. The once proud figure was welcomed with a massive gap in his head, as a hammer stuck out, like it was happily waving at Apollo. In the putrid mist of the sewers, a haughty outline was produced, promptly pulling the hammer from the crushed skull.
The new figure, a mountain of a man in heavy, soot-stained vestments, didn't even spare a look at Apollo. He was too busy checking the head of his weapon for chips, as if he were a carpenter finishing a particularly stubborn piece of furniture rather than a man who had just turned a human skull into a bowl of porridge.
(I wonder if the oozing blood pooling the crushed skull was too hot, too cold, or simply just right?)
'New plan,' his brain evaluated-
'RUN'
He tried to run, but instead only managed a... Let's say a unique squabble? It truly was pathetic; his legs felt like they were store-bought, strawberry-flavoured jelly you buy at those dodgy corner stores. He splashed into the mire, his hands dipping fruitfully into a cocktail of filth and no less of blood. Every splash sounded like a thunderclap in his ears as he tried rounding a corner.
He really didn't get far, I mean, you could probably use those paper rulers they give for free at IKEA and really only use half of it to measure the distance he travelled in his-
His uh- Display. Yeah, let's just leave it at that.
The noise caught the attention of the mountain- I mean man-
He faced Apollo, and Apollo swore he saw a slight grin on his stone-like face,
'What is up with everyone laughing at me?'
Apollo's dignity was officially on its deathbed, and his funeral was currently about to be held in a sewer.
As he scrambled through the muck, his legs giving him all the structural integrity of a sand castle, he realised the cursed priest wasn't just a man, he was a whole natural disaster! And said natural disaster had found its next target- Apollo.
The giant didn't rush. He simply turned the head of his hammer, resting casually on one of his broad shoulders, and watched Apollo's faltering with the detached sense of amusement akin to watching a bug try to turn itself over.
The grin on the giant's face was devoid of any mercy, pushing Apollo's worries to the forefront.
'What's up with everyone laughing at me?' Apollo's internal monologue shrieked once again, this time a bit more miserable, as he just about rounded the corner, his hand catching hold of a slimy brick to keep from face-planting into an old boot someone had just left lying there,
'Very unhygienic, and inconsiderate!'
No avail. It was all to no avail. The damn mountain just scooped him up... Scooped him straight up! Apollo felt the grip as it threatened to break his bones, and all he could do was watch- oh and wet himself-
This was it; there was no way anyone could ever kill someone like that. Apollo was almost certain the person was, in fact, not human, which put him in a bit of a frenzy.
'Horrible, it's so damn horrible!' Apollo really needed to understand how people couldn't just brush their damn teeth!
Apollo's ribs creaked under the giant's grip, each breath a shallow rasp that exuded sheer pure panic, a great way of showing he was in control! The mountain of a man lifted him like he weighed less than a wet rag, holding him at eye level as though inspecting a particularly disappointing catch.
The giant tilted his head, hammer still resting on one shoulder like it was taking a break. His grin widened.
"What's your name?"
"Apollo," I mean, at least Apollo tried to put up some bravado by saying his name with whatever confidence he could muster.
"Your True name, brat." This time, much deeper, the voice bouncing through Apollo's body, as if it were running loose.
"Prince of Nothing,"
"Prince of Nothing," he rumbled, voice low and amused. "You really thought you could run? Cute. But the only thing getting shot down here is you."
He laughed, a deep, rolling sound that vibrated through Apollo's bones-
Thwip.
A single arrow punched clean through the giant's forehead, arriving just before Apollo's eyes; this hello was a bit more welcomed, as the man let his grip loosen on Apollo, finally letting him breathe in a deep breath of the expired fruit and old nappies.
The laugh choked off mid-breath. Blood sprayed in a hot arc, splattering across Apollo's face and chest. The mountain man's eyes widened in surprise, then rolled back. His knees buckled. The hammer slipped from his shoulder and clanged against the brick floor as he collapsed, dragging Apollo down with him.
Apollo hit the ground hard, shoulder-first, air exploding out of his lungs. The giant's body landed half on top of him. Apollo shoved, scrambled, and crawled free, black blood and red blood mixing in the mire under him.
He looked up.
A graceful silhouette stood at the mouth of the tunnel, bow still raised. She was tall, wrapped in dark leather that drank the light almost as greedily as his Shard. A hood shadowed most of her face, but a single braid of silver-white hair spilt out, catching the faint glow of the sewers. Her bow was long and carved from something pale and bone-like. The arrow that killed the giant had been fletched with black feathers that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
She lowered the bow slowly. Didn't speak. Just watched him.
Apollo's vision swam. The overload was back, knife memories, hammer crunch, giant's blood, dripping, dripping, dripping and a hell of a lot more dripping. His legs wouldn't hold him up. His arms shook. The Shard slipped from his fingers and clattered into the muck.
He tried to say something, anything really, but his mouth wouldn't work.
The archer tilted her head, studying him like bacteria under a microscope.
Then the world stuttered again.
Black spots bloomed at the edges of his sight, growing inward, clogging his already dim vision. The dripping grew distant. The smell faded, which gave Apollo some sense of relief.
Apollo's knees gave out.
He collapsed face-first into the filth, the last thing he saw was the silver braid swaying gently as the archer stepped closer.
Then nothing.
The woman pulled out a communication device from the inside of her leather covering,
"Boss, I handled the rogues, and I think I got some bait." It was a melodic voice, unlike the killer Apollo just witnessed; it was a soothing voice.
"Great, bring him back to base. We'll make up some story that we saved them, and let them scout ahead for that power surge.. Maybe if we kill whatever monstrosity wiped out 40 of humanity's strongest, we of the outskirts might get a bit of recognition, ey?"
"Yeah," And she ended the call there, "Time to get you home, right? Prince of Nothing."
"Did- Did he wet himself???"