Hermes | Book 1

: 01 :

He was the light that led the path and she was the darkness that severed it. But now he was lost and he lamented it out loud, asking the world why he, the one who did only well, was now all alone.

Chapter 1

IT WAS getting darker and colder than when that young man with the expensive looking messenger bag had awoken but there was nothing he could do about that little fact.

His bag contained but a slim, charge less mobile phone, a sleek and equally dead laptop and a purse that carried golden coins the size of a carom striker. He had initially tried to insert the coins into a cheap, greasy looking coke dispenser at the graffiti splattered alley behind the Chinese restaurant but had given up when it started to emit weird broken down noises.

His posture assured that the last thing he wanted to do was create unnecessary commotion and get into further trouble.

But one could see that he was desperate. His hands constantly moved towards his bag, then it went pack to bothering his black jean pocket that seemed to have a few runny strands. He shivered; there was little a thin windbreaker could do against the challenging and experienced cold of the city.

His troubled eyes spotted a passerby roughly six hundred yards away from him with ease and lightened up immediately. His fidgety fingers came to a complete halt and finally, it seemed, the more practical side of his mind took control.

With surprising agility, he took off into the night into the direction of the one person he hoped could help him out of the mess he was in.

"Excuse me, sir?" He tried to sound polite, but his breathing pattern did not allow him to ease into complete courtesy.

The passerby, a man in his late forties with groceries in his hands, turned to look at him. Then he looked behind the breathless young man and frowned confusedly.

"Where did you come from?"

"From little farther away, sir." He replied without elaborating exactly from where he started his short run. "Though I can't seem to understand why I am out of breath. It was only yesterday I travelled from the Pacific to the Arctic- on foot, like today- but it didn't affect me at all. Have my qualities faded along with my godhood?" His voice held a faint sort of dreamy quality to it.

"W-What?" The groceries swayed slightly and the holder of the bag backed away a little.

"Yeah, it's confusing right?" The man with the messenger bag looked at the man with groceries with a look that might have meant nothing more than ordinary topics of day to day. "I'm not really worried about my powers failing actually." His voice sounded more composed as he continued. "The moment I get back I can ask Apollo to fix me up. But that's the problem you see, I'm a little lost. Could help me out a little, sir?"

The young man looked hopefully at the passerby but the latter was now backing away even faster.

"Sir?"

"I don't know anything. I can't help you."

The lost man took a few steps towards the one person that had a chance of actually helping him out.

"But sir," he said; hands outstretched in the passerby's direction, "I only need to know-"

"Get away from me." He said quietly. "I aint know nothin'"

The poor young man's face fell, and then turned into a desperate expression as the outstretched fingers curled around the hand with the groceries.

"Please, sir-"

The grocery bag fell on the dirty concrete with a muffled thud and the cheap plastic split open; spilling its contents all over. The hand that had previously held the bag slapped away the lost man's and backed away some more.

He flinched.

"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAK!" The passerby's voice had turned panicky and very loud.

"Sir, I-"

"I AINT GOT NOTHIN FOR YA!"

"Okay, okay. I'm going." He backed away a good few meters from the hysterical man with his hands partially raised in the air. His voice held a light tremble, but he chose to ignore it for the moment. Then he stopped from his retreat, slowly moved forward and picked up the groceries and managed to hold it together in the torn bag.

"Your groceries-"

Before he could say more, the items were snatched out of his hand and a small shower of sand and gravel hit him.

Coughing a little, he backed away.

"GO ELSE WHERE!" Some more sand and gravel where thrown on him.

"OKAY!" He yelled and took off from there, not stopping until he reached the park bench he had earlier woken up from.

He sat down on the decidedly clean seats; shivering some more as his body came in contact with the cold metal, and put his head into his hands. He did not cry, he seemed stronger than that, but he was in the worst of the states.

There was no money in his pockets, no powers in his being and nobody to help him get home. He the class A example of lost and he knew it, without a doubt.

For a few more moments the young man brooded. Then he burrowed into his jacket and stretched his back on the seat; back to square one.