Of Gods and Mortals

Chapter 2.

"Now, I do believe its time for my lunch."

It felt like your heart had stopped beating completely.  At first, you thought this was just some cruel joke the bullies were pulling on you, trying to scare you out of your wits.  But this theory was completely annihilated as soon as Mark Dole was basically vaulted over several parking lots.  

Suddenly, Lars stood in front of you, his crutches discarded somewhere to the side of the sidewalk. He stood straight and tall, brandishing a thick tree branch in front of him threateningly.  

Okay, there were many odd things about this picture:

1.) Lars was currently standing straight, seemingly nothing wrong with his legs.

2.) John's face was contorted into a sneer--or was it just...literally starting to contort and shift?

3.) Lars had taken his pants off.  And no, there weren't regular legs under those baggy jeans.  Nope, he had legs completely covered in hair and bent in odd places, almost like a mule's.

"Holy hell!" You shouted, staring at Lars in disbelief.  "Why are you half donkey?!"

"Goat!"  Lars shouted--actually, he more so bleated--defiantly.  "Half goat!"

"Ah, the satyr!"  John pulled you two out of that short conversation as he growled in a guttural manner.  "My feast will be big today!" 

"See, he uses the term satyr!"  Lars shouted to you defensively.  "Half man, half goat!"

"Is this really the time to be arguing with me about this?!"  You shout, picking up one of Lars' discarded crutches as a makeshift weapon.  "The quarterback literally wants to eat us!"

Both of you whipped your gazes back to John, watching his body start to contort, his skin start to twist, his legs begin to grow.  His Letterman jacket began to rip and tear at the seams, the sleeves ripping off his shoulders and leaving his growing body with a ripped, ill-fitting vest.  His skin discolored slightly, taking on more of an olive tone, and was now bulging with muscles and veins and tattoos of words in another language.  For some reason, you could read these words perfectly well, for the letters shifted into ones you understood, like MOM and I'M ABOUT THAT CANNIBAL LIFE. 

As his body grew to be about 15 feet tall, John's nose and sneer grew and his hair dropped down to his shoulders, scraggly and matted.  He stood before you and Lars as a giant, making your heart drop to your feet. 

"You're joking," you said hoarsely, your mouth suddenly dry.  Your knuckles turned white with the tight grip you had on Lars' crutch, holding it rigidly against your chest with your knees slightly bent.  "This is a dream.  My stepmom finally poisoned my dinner and I'm in a coma."

But this wasn't a dream.  Lars looked back at you with a weak, but encouraging smile.  "Stay with me, (Y/N)!  I can't fight without you!  Don't psych yourself out!"

You debated making a run for it, but you knew you'd never really do it.  Never in a million years would you leave Lars, no matter what.  It wasn't like you to back down from a fight.

Even a fight against a...wait, what even was John now?

"Mind at least telling me what the quarterback just morphed into?"  You said to Lars, your eyes pinned on the approaching, giant, biker-looking man in an out-of-style Letterman jacket.  The beast-man was laughing as you and Lars held out your makeshift weapons, slowly walking backwards down the sidewalk.  The oncoming traffic didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, considering no cars stopped to aid you.

"A Laestrygonian," Lars bleated nervously, swallowing a lump in his throat as he took a swing at the giant's kneecap, then narrowly dodging a kick that would've sent him to the next state over.  "Giant cannibals!  Remember reading The Odyssey in Mr. Khan's class?" 

Your mind briefly flashed to nights spent with Lars trying to decipher the odd language Homer once used in these stories.  Odysseus was the one to encounter them.  The Laestrygonians threw boulders at Odysseus' fleet and ate many of his men during his journey home. Only he and a few fleets of his men were able to escape the island of cannibals, but even then they were barraged with flying projectiles. 

Okay, the more you thought about it, the less likely it seemed that you were to come out of this alive. 

"You really think you have a chance, little demigod?"  The giant laughed and stepped forward heavily, cracking the cement of the sidewalk.  

Demigod?  What was he talking about?

Your thoughts were interrupted as he made a grab for you with his meaty palm.  You let out a terrified yelp as you dove to the side of the sidewalk and onto the grass, the giant John's fist making a sharp whooshing sound as it just barely missed your form.  You tumbled onto your side and quickly scrambled back up onto your feet, watching as Lars let out a string of defiant bleats that could be considered a battle cry as he ran toward the giant.  

The giant simply laughed off his attempt at an attack, reaching down to pick him up.  Lars let out a loud shout of fear as the giant's fist wrapped around his midsection, lifting him up into the air.  "Hey!" He shouted in protest, beating on giant John's fist with his wooden club in vain.  "Put me down, you garish brute!" 

Giant John laughed more, a sound that caused the leaves on nearby trees to shake and reverberate.  You looked up angrily with your teeth bared, holding up the crutch menacingly.  "Put him down, you ugly, toe-looking cannibal!"

John looked down and tilted his head, speaking in a mocking tone.  "Oh, that really hurts my feelings!  Now, down the hatch the little satyr goes!"

Lars screamed in fear as giant John pulled him toward his gaping, smelly maw.  "Aaah!  Let go!  (Y/N), run!"

You snapped.  No one eats your nervous, skittish, half-goat best friend if you have anything to say about.

You put the crutch on the ground at an angle and slammed your foot down on the center of its leg.  The hollow crutch snapped in two loudly, the metal bottom now sharp where it had forcefully snapped off.  You gripped the crutch by the handle and part of the leg before the sharp end, almost as if you were holding a spear.  You braced yourself and let out a battle cry before charging toward the giant. 

Okay, maybe your battle cry didn't sound as menacing as you had hoped, considering your voice cracked midway through, but it definitely sent the message as the sharp end of the broken crutch was driven into the giant's stomach as far in as you could possibly send it. 

The giant let out a guttural screech and dropped Lars right before he reached his mouth, Lars letting out frighten bleats as he started to plummet towards the ground.  You quickly dove under him so he didn't hit the concrete of the sidewalk, knocking him out of the air.  His sudden weight changing directions sent you both hitting the grass to the side with a painful thud, but generally unharmed.  

John the Giant staggered, his breathing suddenly loud and labored.  It made the entire area smell like the carcass of the animal on the side of the road.  You grimaced as he fell to his knees with a ground-shaking thud, his eyes fiery with rage and staring straight into yours.  He started to disintegrate, his body decomposing and falling to the ground as this golden sand.  You watched in both horror and awe as he let out one last roar of rage at you, then was swept away into the harsh wind of the highway as the rest of his body turned to golden dust. 

You and Lars sat in the grass for a while, still pressed tightly and protectively into each other, hearts racing and breaths labored. You stared into the fast-moving traffic, your lips parted in disbelief. 

"I..."  You started, shoulders slumping as your energy waned.  "I just killed the quarterback, Lars."

Lars laughed breathlessly and rubbed the back of his head.  "You saved my life, (Y/N)," he said in a long, heavy breath.  "I...probably owe you an explanation of why you just killed a giant cannibal.  And why I have goat legs."

"...Probably?"