The Ragnarok Trials

Day Fifteen: Where Is The Edge

Day Fifteen
         Where Is The Edge
Focus Word: Brink
Word Count: 2109

It was morning when I said goodbye to Hermes and headed off into the town to find Ares. Apparently, he was better at Halo than I thought, winning at least eighty percent of the matches and bringing me to a draw for the rest. If you must know, I won only once, and that because I cheated. What? I wasn't about to lose every time to that bloody Greek, thank you very much. As it was, I owed him a fair few rounds at Baldur's and I had no idea how I was going to explain that to my accountant. Gambling is, as far as I know, not a particularly well-loved activity up in the Angelic sphere.

Maybe if I spoke to Gabriel instead, he could have it written off as entertainment, or something. After all, no one got hurt. At least not anyone real.

Tons of aliens lost their lives that night, it must be said.

I had no idea why I was still going around investigating, except that I still hadn't managed to work around the fact that my most crucial piece of evidence wasn't exactly permissible in Michael's court. Sure, Gabriel hadn't technically broken any rules in helping me as a human, but he'd definitely violated the spirit of the thing, and I really didn't want Michael mad at him. Nor did I want every Angel in existence to hate me for ruining their vacations to Earth. Angry Angels are very, very cruel Angels. In the nicest way, of course.

It was pretty early, so I had an inkling that Ares would be at the gym, so I headed over to that side of town. I'm not a member, but I was pretty sure Angelic Investigator status was some sort of in, or something, even without it.

It's not like I was going to work out, or anything. I bloody hate working out.

Let me tell you a thing or two about why I hate gyms. First off, why is it that gyms everywhere have to play the worst music known to man? Even I can't stand it and I distinctly recall enjoying mostly every single form of music out there. Except dubstep. I hate that shit. Seriously, why it is that people seem to enjoy the repetitive throbbing of hard bass riffs rattling their chest, I will never know. But, you know what? I'd listen to dubstep if it meant not having to listen to the insipid pop lyrics of whatever it is they play at the gym. At least the repetition is good for, you know, the repetitive movement of the gym. I'll give them that.

Second, why is it that men have to bench press a weight that is obviously too heavy for them? The grunting, sweating mess they make of themselves is just totally unenjoyable. Not to mention really, really annoying. Do they feel like they've accomplished something when they drop the weight on the ground like a petulant child after a grand total of four reps? Yes, gentlemen, you are totally bad ass. You don't look completely idiotic, at all. I know that, had I been a woman, I would have dropped my pants right there and demanded you take me, such is the irresistible virility of your very being.

Third. Women, are you there to work out or to compare yourself to everyone else in the room? Or to simply show off that you don't really need to be there, you just desperately love shoving your fitness in everyone's face? Lifting a two pound weight and jogging on the treadmill with the obvious intention of swishing your ponytail and looking cute is just ridiculous. I get it, fitness is important, and remaining in shape is no easy task. But why is your hair done? And what on Earth is with the perfectly coordinated work-out outfit? Are you there to get fit or look good doing it? And you, you know who you are, why are you wearing eye-liner? You do realize people are there to work out, right?

And you, guy who sings along with his incredibly offensive rap music while he's on the elliptical, you do realize you're in a public space, right? If you want to pull that shit, do it at home or on a solo run down the street. No one wants to fuck their mother, OK? Oedipus has been dead for centuries, and Freud was damned crazy. So, seriously, calm down with the bad American Idol audition, alright? If anything, you're worse than the pop princess on the gym radio singing about partying 'til the break of dawn with glitter on her face.

I sound bitter, I know. It's not bitter. It's annoyance. People need to treat the gymnasium as a place for fitness. A place dedicated to the temple of the human body, to keeping one's self healthy and in balance, not to showing off and hooking up. You disrespect Hermes when you do these things, and I don't quite like disrespecting Hermes. He's a friend.

Some...boy (?) was singing when I entered the gym, warbling away about babies, or something like that. He (she?) kept saying "baby" over and over again in a ridiculously whiny voice, in any case. A nymph was at the desk, her gym t-shirt too tight and her shorts way too short. "Are you a member, sir?"

"Don't give me that shit, Daphne. I'm here to see Ares. Can you please send him out, or do you mind if I go in? I'm here on Angelic business." I leaned against the corner, eyebrow raised. I hate gyms. I could just feel the mindless drone of repetition and sweat seeping insidiously into my veins. "Either way, some time today would be lovely, doll."

Daphne sneered. "You wish, Loki."

"Wish you would put on more clothing and stop acting like an air-headed slut? Yes, yes I do. Do I wish I could have you naked against the wall? Absolutely not. I don't really feel like slumming it today." Let me explain something, here, before you go around thinking that I'm some sort of asshole. Daphne had once charged Apollo for rape. Turns out, she'd gone home with Ares one night and it had gotten a little rough. Rather than explain it to her boyfriend (one of the Seelie Court, though I forget his name), she'd accused Apollo of rape. Why Apollo, you may ask?

Well, you should really read your myths if you have to ask. Apollo wanted Daphne. Daphne didn't want Apollo. When Apollo chased Daphne anyway, she turned into a tree. End of story. Bitch thought everyone would assume she was telling the truth. Which was true, of course, but she'd forgotten that all Old God crimes (at least the violent ones) get sent to me, and I have a damn fine nose for sniffing out the truth, if I do say so myself. So, of course I got to the bottom of things, and proven Daphne for a liar. She'd lost her boyfriend, gotten slapped with a few years of mortality, and Apollo had gotten vindication in front of the whole community.

It was the mortality that got to her, though, and why she hated me. She used to look twenty, now she looks twenty-eight. That might not sound bad, but even a few years as a mortal, of feeling age creeping up on you, is torture for an immortal. Death by old age is the ultimate punishment. Thus, it is one we would never give out.

We are not entirely cruel, mind. Just mostly cruel.

"Ah, Loki! I was wondering when you'd come to see me!" Ares came strolling up from the other side of the stroller, using a towel to wipe the sweat from his face and arms. He glared at Daphne as he passed. "Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

"I don't have to answer to you, War God." Daphne crossed her arms and leaned against counter. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. Would you please leave?"

"Yes, of course. Wouldn't want to take you away from filing your nails, now would we?" Ares quipped, rolling his eyes and shouldering the workout bag he carried with him to the gym. He'd already changed into his habitual cargo shorts and button down in the locker room. Apparently, I'd showed up at the end of his workout. "Come on, Loki. Let's head on out. It's good to see you since our last meeting."

That jolted me a bit, and I stared at the back of Ares' head like he'd gone mad as he pushed open the door. "What? Ares, it's been six months since our last meeting..."

Ares laughed and headed outside, shaking his head. "You're a trip, dude. I never realized we had some sort of vow of silence going on. You should be proud. I might have done the dirty work, but you were the inspiration behind it all. Now that Baldur's dead, the whole movement is dead. Odin knows what's going on now and he's dead set against the whole thing. You've effectively saved all of our own kind from the brink of war. I mean, I never thought anyone could do it! There's, like, no fear you'll ever give in to. You're untouchable now, dude!"

"What on Earth are you talking about, Ares? You didn't kill Baldur, and I certainly didn't put you up to it!"

The War God clapped me on the back. "Shh, yeah, yeah. I'll keep it silent for you if you want. I mean, I thought you'd changed, dude. I thought you'd gone all straight and narrow. But I guess you can't change yourself. You can't walk away from who you are, no matter how much you try. Damn, Loki, most of the Old Gods are thrilled that your plan went through without a hitch. You've brought peace. A worthy sacrifice of yourself for the good of God Town. No one'll let the Angels take you. When the time comes, we're on your side."

"Time comes? What the hell are you talking about? I had nothing to do with Baldur's death!" I stared at Ares, eyes wide and heart pounding. What the hell was going on here? Was Ares trying to frame me? Was he in with the others? What if Ares was a double agent, secretly working with the Norse contingency to rise up against the Angels? And, if so, they'd just sprung the trap on me.

A feeling of sharp pain and a grimace on Ares' face was all I got before a hand clasped my upper arm. I turned to see Gabriel with a look on his face I'd never thought to experience. His eyes were cold, his face hard, looking for all the world like a dark Michael. It was the hurt in his eyes, however, the betrayal that sunk my heart into my stomach and caused my knees to quake. If Gabriel thought I'd done it, I was lost, without an ally in the world that would stand up for me in the Court of Angels.

I was as good as dead.

"Loki Laufeyson, you are under arrest for the murder of Baldur Odinson four days previous. You are to come with me until such a time as Michael can pass sentence upon you. If you cooperate, we will allow you to remain in your apartment until the hearing. If not, you will be locked up in the Heavenly plane, with all that that entails. Will you come with me now, Lie-smith?"

I hung limp, only Gabriel's grip keeping me standing. All was lost. All was done.

I'd lost his friendship. And I'd definitely lost his love.

"Yes, I will come with you, Gabriel. Lead me home, my once friend, whom I'd thought to be my defender. If you believe these lies, there is no point in fighting them. Take me home, and from thence to die."

Gabriel didn't even react as he pulled me into the Heavenly realm and from there, to my apartment to wait until Michael's sword would kiss my neck and the world would forever go black.

I'd lost this game. And in doing so, I had effectively lost my life. But as Gabriel tossed me onto the floor in my living room, it was not fear of death that threaded its way through me, wringing my heart and tying my stomach in knots.

I'd lost Gabriel, and in losing him, I realized just how much I'd needed him in my life.

I realized I loved him. And now, now I had lost him.

Forever.