II. Gods and Monsters

22. Storm

The car rumbled to a halt outside of the dilapidated building. It was a miracle the brickwork was still holding together. As he exited, he scanned for any sign of life. Nothing jumped out at him. For once. Although he expected that to change once he got through the steel door barring his path. When he placed his hand on said door, it gave a tenth of the resistance he was expecting, granting him access without a problem.

The corridor was long, narrow and poorly lit, with single strip lights running across the ceiling. The only sound Oli could hear was his own chain dragging across the floor. It felt heavy, clumsy in his hand without the aid of Zarathos to guide it. Oli slowly wrapped the chain around the palm of his hand three times, hoping to gain as much of a grip on it as possible. Didn't want to lose it in the middle of a fight. With his weapon secured, Oli flicked his arm upwards, the chain rocketing above him and completely missing the fixture he was trying to hit. Adjusting his grip, Oli tried again, with a similar result: the chain-whip missed completely. This was a fool's errand, there was no way Oli could beat Hades like this. He couldn't even hit a damn light. With a great cry of anger, Oli arced his arm up, flicking his wrist at the last second, sending the chain up one last time and shattering the bulb above him. Glass rained down as Oliver's smile grew. Maybe this wasn't as hopeless as he'd first thought. He strode forward, trying out his technique on every fitting he passed under. He'd gotten halfway down the corridor before company arrived. Men in dark robes rounded the corner and turned to face Oliver.

"I'm gonna give you one chance to walk away," he told them. "After that, everything that follows is on you."

"Come, we have been expecting you," one of the hooded men told him. "Let's see whether you are worthy of facing the master."

With that, the two men charged Oli, one drawing a weapon from beneath their robe. Oli ducked the metal pipe, grabbing the second man and using him as a human shield to absorb the second blow he knew would be coming. Booting his first assailant square in the chest, he flipped the other over his hip, driving punch after punch square into his face. The man soon went limp. He hadn't even finished with these two when another pair, each holding crowbars started to take swings at him. Oli ducked the first but caught the second crowbar in the centre of his back. An almighty crack sent Oli into the wall. He covered his head as blow after blow landed on his body. The pain was unbearable, each blow threatening to break his arms. When the men raised their weapons in unison to deal a devastating blow, Oli ducked and rammed them, slamming them into the wall before stumbling out of reach. He was tired, beaten and he hadn't even passed the first corridor. The two men strode slowly towards him. Even in the shadow of their robes, Oli could see their wicked grins. Shaking his head to stop the world from blurring, Oli swung the chain, striking the hand of one of his enemies, disarming him. The darkness was working to Oli's advantage, masking his chain's direction until just before it struck home. The second swing sent a dull thud echoing through the hallway as it connected with his target's head. The second man closed the space between them too quickly for Oli to swing again, instead, he ducked under his enemy's attack and drove a punch with his chained hand into his jaw. A flurry of knees and elbows soon sent the man falling. Oli rested against the wall. As a possessed man, he had been cut out for this. As a regular guy? Not so much. Sure, he was strong, but not take-on-an-army strong. And his lungs couldn't keep up with the amount of air his body needed. Looking back on the four men groaning on the floor beside him, he turned and made his way towards the end of the corridor. Turning the corner, his heart dropped.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." he wheezed.

Even through the darkened doorway, he could make out the image of a stairwell. A big one. The door opened easily enough, and once through, Oli saw the stairwell clinging to the walls, taunting him. He knew Hades would be on the top floor. Three stories up from him. His assumption was confirmed when a man burst from the top floor, slammed against the opposite wall, rebounded and fell to the ground floor with a sickening crunch. Commotion came from floors one and two as robed men came to check what had happened. Of course, when they looked down, all they saw was Oli with what remained of one of their comrades. Choruses of "there he is!" "Kill him for The Lord!" and other such outbursts flowed down to him.

"Shit..." Oli mumbled.

Multiple robed men started to rush down the stairs, Oli moving to meet them. As the first reached the flight Oli was ascending, Oli cast his chain forward, knocking the thug's feet out from under him and sending him head-first down the stairs. A second man stomped on the chain, attempting to stop Oli from reeling it back in. An adrenaline fueled yank launched this second man down to meet his friend. It was then that Oli was flooded by a mass of robes and limbs.

"Pin him down! Pin him down!"

A gang had sprung on him at once, grasping every part of him they could and forcing him against the wall. His face crushed against the stone wall, Oli felt the panic start to rise in him. More and more bodies piled into the back of him, hoping to keep him there to deal the final blow. No way out. Fists started to drive into his back, his neck, and his head, sending sharp pain through his body to cloud his brain. He couldn't lose consciousness. If he lost that, he'd lose Charlotte and the fight against Hades. The world would burn if Hades was allowed to carry on his conquest of the world. He had to get them off somehow. His muscles screaming under the stress, his bones threatening to break under the immense pressure and beatings they were taking, Oli squirmed his legs into place in front of him. First levering his knees into place before forcing his feet to plant themselves firmly on the wall. With an almighty cry of pained, furious exertion, Oliver thrust himself backwards, driving himself and the rabid pack behind him away from the wall and into the bannister of the stairwell. But it wouldn't support them. The old, decaying wood cracked under the combined weight and sent the mass tumbling to the concrete below. Oliver landed last, bouncing off a small clump of robed attackers and thudding onto the floor. Oli groaned in pain. The bodies had broken his fall somewhat, but he had still landed at an unnatural angle and taken a lot of the impact into his back. Intense bruising would be the least of his worries. He expected bones to be broken in multiple places. He rolled slowly to his front, placing his hands beneath him to push himself upright. The ringing in his ears was staggering, the pain incredible. He righted himself ever so slowly, staggering into the wall for support. Battered, bruised and sapped of strength, Oli dragged himself onto and up the stairwell. It took what felt like an eternity to reach the top floor, and when he did, he noticed the deathly silence that greeted him. Nothing moved behind the door. The only sound he could hear was the crackling of fire. He pressed himself to the wall, sliding as close as he dared towards the door, straining for any hint of a noise.

"I have been expecting you for some time. Please, come in Oliver."