Chapter 38: Backup

Once upon a time, Synto nearly died. It was the kind of experience that one never forgets, no matter how much time passes. It had changed the trajectory of his life forever, and had hurt like a motherfucker. Getting punched so hard he crashed through a building and landed on a family’s dinner table was only slightly less painful.

“Not until I kill Synto!” Adriana screamed from a million miles away.

Even with his strengthened body and faster healing, she had broken something. The left side of his face burned sullenly, and the cheekbone beneath it felt wrong. Everytime he moved, it was like grinding glass under his skin. He tried to get up, but his body refused to listen.

“Oh shit, they got inside!” a man’s voice said. “Get back, I’ll handle this.”

Synto managed to roll over on the broken table. Splinters stabbed his arm, but a few pinpricks didn’t compare to being hit by Adriana. The room he was in was a small, well loved house with only a handful of pieces of furniture. A man with gray hair stood in front of a matronly looking woman who must’ve been his wife. They looked terrified. He forced himself to his hands and knees. His pulse throbbed in dozens of aches.

“I’ll let myself out,” he managed to mumble, but his head rang and the world spun.

Mykos jumped through the hole and crouched at his side. “Father, we need to get out of here. Fast.”

He tried to nod but the motion made his mind blank. Synto was dimly aware of Mykos helping him stand. He propped his father up and dragged him to the door.

Outside, the collateral damage of their battle made him wince. Not for even more destroyed buildings, but because now people came out of hiding to check it out. Apollo’s men had managed to make it clear to the people in the area to be elsewhere, and those who didn’t had been encouraged, but there was no holding back the curiosity of an entire city-state.

About a third of the men Synto had with him were dead, either burned or full of holes. Their damned flying scout and the archer had managed to disrupt them enough for Adriana to get a chance to fight. Mykos’ monsters were all dead now, but they’d nearly worked. The trick would be to overwhelm her and corner her. If they ever got another chance. His knees trembled.

“C’mon, stay with me,” Mykos said. His concern was almost touching.

With his son’s help, they limped off, and the remaining hired muscle followed. Synto didn’t miss the mutinous looks on some, or the outright fear on others. This was supposed to be a simple smash and grab, easy to do, and now…

They slipped down an alley and traveled between houses. The few people there gave them a wide berth, but watched closely. They’d be a problem later. After two separate monster attacks in one week causing damage, chances were they would have to leave Mykarkos in a hurry. Apollo was going to be pissed.

It was enough to make him consider running, if it weren’t for the contract. The only way out of it was killing Apollo, and that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen in his current state. It wouldn’t happen regardless, the Demigod was as slippery as an eel and good at escaping with his life. His real power wasn’t in his ability to hurt others, but to be unkillable and always well positioned to use others. Either way, they had to settle up with him. There was no way around it.

When they got to Apollo’s safehouse, he was waiting for them.

“What the hell went wrong? You outnumbered them five to one!” He closed the distance and grabbed Synto by the front of his tunic.

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Mykos pulled out his knives, but Synto waved him off. “Flying archer,” he grumbled. Speaking hurt, but he had to get through it. “Distracted us. They escaped.”

“You don’t say. Do you have any idea how much personal money I’ve put up for this venture?” He shook Synto, who let out an embarrassing whimper. “And now it’s going to get even more expensive, thanks to your failure.” Apollo dropped him and stormed off to the other side of the room. He grabbed a glass of wine sitting there and drained it.

“More? We’re going to keep trying?” Mykos asked for both of them. He was smart enough to be relieved. If they were going to keep trying, it meant Apollo wasn’t going to kill them or hand them over to the island’s patron God. They had a little bit more time to fix things.

“Well, obviously,” Apollo spit. “This is bigger than just True Divinity now. The orders for this come from the top.”

Synto inhaled sharply. “Orobaal?” He collapsed into the closest seat. Attention from the Titan of Greed was rarely a good thing.

Apollo nodded and poured another drink. With a malicious grin, he set it down in front of Synto. “His grudge against Hessius is more serious than I expected. Under no circumstance is the Sun Temple to get their hands on it and raise another God up to take his place. Because of that…” He sighed.

“What?” Mykos asked. “What does this mean for us?”

Anger flashed in the Demigod’s eyes. “It means you get to keep trying until either you’re dead or Lord Orobaal has what he wants. Until the end of this job, I own you both. You’ll be well paid if you succeed, but you don’t have any other options now. What it means for me is that I have to pack up and leave here for Hessiopolis with the rest of you. Next time, I’ll be leading the attack.”

This was…mixed news. Synto wouldn’t say no to more help. Now that he’d failed again and she finally got the best of him for just a moment, his desire to kill Adriana had increased. They’d come this far for it already, and they were contractually obligated to continue the hunt. All that remained were the details. “Healing?” he asked.

“You’ll have it. For now, we have to lay low and hope that Patropi doesn’t find us through the protective wards we have here.” Apollo’s lip twitched. “If he does, you two are going to confess and I’ll get away.”

“The hell we will!” Mykos spat. He’d never liked Apollo, even after getting more Maw Divinity from him. Now he desired nothing more than to stick his knife in the Demigod’s throat. Synto could empathize.

“You want to fill your son in on how things work here?” Apollo crossed his arms over his chest.

“We work for him until the end of the job,” Synto said. The more he spoke, the more he wanted to collapse into a heap and pass out. It was the only way to escape the constant throbbing on the side of his face. He chanced touching the skin and pulled it away with a hiss.

Apollo noticed and chuckled. “You look like shit. I can’t believe you bastards lost as badly as you did. Next time, I’ll be there to hold your hands and make sure it goes right. We’ll be better outfitted, pick our location better, and it will work.”

Mykos still stood there, tense as can be. Synto motioned him over and pointed at the chair across from him. His son took it, but crossed his arms over his chest and watched Apollo like a hawk. If the boy wasn’t careful, it could lead to problems for them.

“Contacts? Spies?” Synto asked. He drank the wine in front of him. It was a good vintage, and the burn helped distract him from the fire on his face. The wine at least brought him pleasure.

“My own, and Lord Orobaal’s.” Apollo grinned wickedly. “He’s quite insistent we bring the True Divinity to him.”

“What does a Titan need with True Divinity?” Mykos asked. “Doesn’t he already have True Divinity of his own?”

“He’s the Titan of Greed, boy. Do you think there could ever be enough?” He chewed it over, and then expanded. “All you need to know is that Hessius wronged my lord in the past, and now he has a chance for revenge. Sitting in a vault for eternity will serve as a suitable punishment for daring to oppose the greatest of the Gods.”

Mykos opened his mouth, but Synto slammed his fist on the table. It shut the boy up before he could say something stupid enough to jeopardize their position. “Think,” he said. His face ached worse than before. “We’ll be stronger soon. We’ll win. But for now…” Synto looked at Apollo. “Healing.”

Apollo shook his head with a nasty smile. “We’re not going anywhere for the next three hours. Not until Patropi is done sweeping the streets and my planted witnesses steer him in the wrong direction. Consider this pain an incentive to not fuck up again. Next time, it might be too costly to keep you around.”