StonermanShow.com

Two days later. 

Friday.

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     Five blocks east of Sunken Shores Ave, Steven wanders in a stoned stupor. He's now dressed in an orange hard hat, tool belt, magicians cape, and a blue polo that reads, 'Aquarium Event Staff.' Accompanied by a raccoon carrying an octopus on it's back for some reason. For the past two days, Steven has been searching for a way home from school but instead finds himself thirty miles off course in the wrong city entirely. He stands in front of a ten foot Stonerman statue. A memorial that reads, 'Let Each Bong Rip Be In His Memory. May Every Toke Fill Us With The Courage Of A Hero.' 

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Pedestrians have gathered around the site, they've all been chatting among each other for some time…

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"Who will stand for justice, now?" One citizen wonders.

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"I've always loved-" A man glances at his phone. "Stonermon." 

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"Yeah, Stoner-mon was my favorite." Another citizen adds.

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Steven pushes through the melancholy crowd and approaches the bronze sculpture.

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"Hey Homer." He says.

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…

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"Oh shit!" 

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    Steven covers his mouth and glances at the civilians glued to their phones as they post memorial selfies accompanied with cheesy quotes that barely ring true to any reality. 

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"I mean, Stonerman." He whispers.

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     Steven winks and nudges the sculpture. Then suddenly, his attention is stolen by a familiar jingle. The siren's call from across the street. Chen's dessert cart! A sugary wagon parked over in the shade, beneath a tall oak tree where a black raven with a blue streak flowing through it's feathers is perched.

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     The raccoon and octopus companions trot away, no doubt to continue what they've started, whatever that means. Steven has already forgotten because his sole focus is now on stringing together a coherent sentence to order his favorite Chen's treat. An elephant ear. A dessert often found in carnivals and food trucks. Similar to a funnel cake but crispier and drowned in cinnamon sugar which makes all the difference. And nobody does it better than Chen. 

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   Steven places an order for a triple turtle supreme. (Topped with chocolate, caramel, whipped cream, nut assortment, and of course, a Chen's cherry on top.) He's not finished yet, scooting this delicacy over to the Chen's condiment bar to drown it further. (Sprinkles, toffee, cookie dough, cheesecake bites, butterscotch, chocolate chips, honey oats, cotton candy crunchers, graham cracker crumbles, even Chen's secret dessert sauce.)

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      Juggling two diabetic monstrosities in hand, Steven trudges back to the Stonerman statue, he places one elephant ear in it's over-sized hand. The paper plates cave in on themselves and disintegrate under a bubbling condiment soup.

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"Got you an elephant ear." Steven mumbles.

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     Oozing, glooping, down the majestic memorial. A river of sludge steals the elephant ear off of the plate then the soggy pastry smacks onto the ground. Steven shoots a questioning glare at the Stonerman statue.

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"How stoned are you, bro?"

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"I thought I'd find you here."

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"I've been here the whole time?"

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Steven scratches his face and smears chocolate across his cheek.

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Roger steps out from the crowd.

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"Even if I didn't keep tabs on you guys for these past two days. Not only to ensure your safety, but your stoned adventures have helped me keep my mind off more serious matters- How are you holding up?"

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"In munchie heaven."

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"Nice. I saw D. Banns post. You're headlining the Titillation tonight?"

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"Oh yeah. I forgot! No summer school, dude!" 

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"Apollo should return in about an hour. Wanna head to the Fort? We can discuss everything on the way."

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"Hell yeah."

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Steven buckles up as Roger steers his Prius into a scarlet sunrise. 

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    Chen closes the wagon for the day. The morning rush is over but he'll be back at it before dinner. Chen is a humble businessman. It may not seem like it, but he earns a small fortune selling these deep fried delights. His success lies in delivering the best product possible while maintaining competitive prices. Chen bikes south, profitable and carefree, appreciating a warm day's cool wind.

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     When Chen returns home, he locks up his bicycle then makes his way to his one bedroom apartment. He boots up his 4K player, grabs a soda, then tosses a clip board onto the counter. With a satisfying sip, he places the bottle beside a newspaper that reads, 'After Stoner-mon's death, FakeGoodGoodINC's stock skyrockets.'

 

     'Not Another Ernest Movie,' shines brilliantly on Chen's 4K display. If only he wasn't too busy looking over today's sales numbers to appreciate the picture quality. It seems business is up twelve percent. Very pleasing. His triangular model of business has served him well. Chen will be able to afford that menu addition sooner than expected.

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Everything fades to white. 

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In less than a millisecond, the city is reduced to a crater. Millions of buildings, parks, and people are no more. A battle between jihnn and god has just taken place.

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     Outside Steven's house, Roger pulls into the driveway. Ash paints the sky, birds fly in no clear pattern nor direction. Roger assists Steven up into the Fort, where Apollo is assembling a shelf for Homer's ashes.

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"How was the ceremony?" Roger asks.

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"Good." Apollo replies. 

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"Glad you're back. I've spent the last two days formulating a plan to fix all of this."

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Apollo responds in a dire tone…

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"The god of sound is off getting the Darth Vader treatment, Homer is dead, and Zeus has wishing magic. Not to mention, a war between the gods and Jihnn is taking place across the galaxy as we speak. I'm very curious to hear what kind of plan you've come up with."

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Roger rolls out a dry erase board. It is filled with bullet points, diagrams, and useful cliff notes. 

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"We're going to break into Mt. Olympus."

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      Zeus' pearl palace reaches above the clouds. Inside one of the hidden chambers, the wondrous bubbler lies in captivity. Lugh stands guard, whistling a playful tune as he circles a Corinthian column which holds the bubbler. It is enclosed by the same magic that conceals this room.

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A portal opens, Zeus steps out.

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"Is it ready to speak?" 

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Lugh sighs.

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"Hard to say. It has yet to present itself since you've left… Is it still in there?"

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"Let's find out." 

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     Zeus removes the entrapment magic placed upon the bubbler. He conjures the Jihnn, forcefully ripping it out from the mouthpiece.

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"Our patience has worn thin. Will you grant my wish or not?" Zeus asks.

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The Jihnn shakes off the hyper-turbulence then levitates up to Zeus. 

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"~θ It is not possible to witness nor interfere with the paths not taken. θ~"

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"I am no mortal fool."

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Zeus tightly clutches the wondrous bubbler, the glass cracks. 

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"Your only wish of protecting your universe is to grant mine."

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Neither the king of Olympus nor the magical Jihnn break eye contact.

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"~θ Your wrath cannot change the rules presented by life, I'm afraid. θ~"

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     Brilliant blue lightning emits from Zeus' finger tips. The shock-wave alone brings the Jihnn to the ground, it's body wrapped in a lightning blanket.

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"Bring me the Moirai." Zeus commands.

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"Sire, if they haven't already presented themselves to us, we must go to them." Lugh answers.

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Smoke wafts off of the Jihnn's body, the lightning subsides.

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"Very well. Continue your watch over this creature."

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Zeus secures the wondrous bubbler, opens a teleportation portal, and steps through.

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"Let's review."

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Roger caps a marker then points at the dry erase board.

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"First, we escort Steven to school, which is perhaps the safest location whilst Apollo and I are off planet-"

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"Uh. Getting into Olympus will be fine. But I can't protect you when shit hits the fan." Apollo replies.

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"My armor is equipped with power levels that've stood toe to toe with a god. I've made years of enhancements since then. Not to mention the additions provided by both you and Artemis… And now."

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     Using his handy screwdriver, Roger unlatches the back panel on the ROACH unit and removes a metal tray. On the scouting mission, the pod collected a pile of colorful glass fragments that broke off of the wondrous bubbler.

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"With this, I'll be able to upgrade my suit to genie level-godtier. There is no doubt in my mind."

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"I don't know. Even if we could-"

 

"I won't sit helplessly behind a monitor. Simply watching with no effective course of action at my disposal. I just can't. By my best estimation… There's a greater chance of success if we work together. I'll be there solely for support purposes. No matter what that role may entail. I cannot wish Homer back to life, but you can." Roger says. "Now, if I can continue... First, we take Steven to the safe zone, the Titillation."

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Steven's lucidity is in question. He doesn't seem to be paying attention.

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"Second, we exhaust Apollo's knowledge and connections to find Zeus' chambers. It's of critical importance we do not raise alarm as that would certainly lead to an instant game over, so to speak. My cloaking technology has proven effective against gods in the past. I believe this to be a determining factor in our mission's success."

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Apollo almost falls out of his bean bag chair…

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"How am I supposed to know the layout? My only two connections were slaughtered back on Mercury. And how in the hell do you know that your cloaking device works on gods?"

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"So we're going in blind then." Roger replies.

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"Getting in won't be a problem, I just don't know where to look from there. Everything has changed so much."

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"Once inside, I'll have the ROACH unit perform an environmental scan, which will provide us with an approximate layout. Hopefully this will give us enough information to narrow down the location of the bubbler."

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"Then, we'll get Zeus more stoned than he's ever been in his life." Apollo says.

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"We what?"

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"Think about it. Why would Zeus be paranoid about marijuana of all things? It has to be his only weakness."

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"An interesting theory. But I'd rather avoid confrontation if at all possible."

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Steven opens his Huey Lewis And The News lunch box. It's completely empty.

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"That son of a bitch killed Homer."

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Roger rummages through the weapon cabinet.

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"I'll add THC bombs and additional joints to our arsenal for contingency purposes, as I'd much rather use the silent approach."

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     The fort's emergency broadcast system alarms. The local news station flashes on. Ackmed, the man who's covered Stonerman for nearly a decade, is reporting with a professional swagger barely suitable for public television. 

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"It has been two days since Stoner-mon digivolved into a deceased man... Our nation sings the praises of our fallen hero. Cities have peacefully turned to craters, tornadoes prance around the Midwestern territories, all while mother earth playfully trembles every twenty minutes or so minutes. Today, we remember Stoner-mon in our own way.

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In other news, several government officials have reassured us that there is no need for panic. Oh no. No. For the long search is long over. A new hero has been determined by unanimous vote! It is now legal to report that as of this morning, Ze Pesky Pinchman has been released from prison and granted a full presidential pardon. However, it seems the release and lucrative super hero promotion wasn't enough for ze Pinchman, as a new report claims further negotiations were requested. This is when the situation between the President and Pinchman went below the border. Repeat, negotiations have gone south! At the moment of this broadcast, no deal has been struck!

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Further reports suggest that the original offer did not satisfy the Pinchman. Made at 8:00AM New Pacific Time, the updated deal entailed the Pinchman do battle with the gods for the sum of three metric tons of marijuana. An amount that well exceeds the military's yearly superhero budget, raising national concerns as well as acid reflux inside the bowels of this reporter. Not long after, Mr. President countered with the offer of one, one point one tons of military grade marijuana in exchange for the service of doing battle with the gods. The Pinchman has refused to comment-"

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Ackhmed reaches for his earpiece.

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"This just in… Both the Pinchman and metric ton of military grade marijuana have gone missing."

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     Beside the television, Roger suits up. His battle armor is part robotic exoskeleton, part magic. With it, he wields a heavy Nguni shield as well as an edged Jumonji Yari shadow spear. His bulletproof visor displays a full HUD which provides a robust informational database of useful statistics. The armor enhances both his reflexes and strength as well as protects against blades, bullets, and is equipped with charms that shield against basic magic. Locked and loaded, Roger is ready to take on the gods.

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     Deep within the emerald underside of Mt. Olympus, at the center of it's labyrinth, you'll find a room that has no color and no shape. The only reason it exits is to occupy an imageless castle that houses three witches. This place is only known as the Temple Of The Fates.

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     Describing this castle would be like sketching a picture that's been removed from its canvas. A place mortals were never destined to witness. Inside of the highest shire, Zeus steps out from a portal and is greeted by three old hags. The shortest with the shimmering orange gem of the past, which sits center of her deteriorating skull. The fattest with the yellow gem of the present, almost swallowed by her cobweb hair. And lastly, the tallest with the black gemstone of the future, as dark as her inky eyes.

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"Heed our warning. Turn back now or these events will never be unwritten."

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"Your cautionary tales no longer hold meaning to me." Zeus says, presenting the wondrous bubbler. "Not with the power I've obtained."

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The fattest sister pokes her pointed nose into a torn scroll.

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"No matter how capable you've proven us in the past, this knowledge is beyond your grasp."

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"I've read the legends. Tales of worlds beyond our realms. If this is the knowledge you speak, tell me witch- Is there another version of me?"

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The three sisters hiss in unison.

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"Yesss."

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"Show me."

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🎶 "Welcome friends, welcome spectators, welcome all, to a superb springtime spectacle." 🎶

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     Although he's giving his best effort, Dr. Bann's song displeases the audience. Bored students, confused parents, and mildly entertained grandparents grumble among themselves. The lights have never felt more bright. This is not the attention grabbing opener he had hoped for. More like an out of touch dad performing karaoke at his son's best friend's birthday party- Since the first verse hasn't achieved the reaction he was expecting, Principal Bann improvises mid-song.

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🎶"You'll laugh, you'll cry, but never wonder why, you're feeling so titillated. Titillated tonight. Let's get titillated by this talent on a first annual Friday night."🎶

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     A member of the audience coughs as a tangible aura of awkwardness overtakes the room. The principal blushes, steps away from the mic, and wipes his moist face. In the corner of his eye, he notices Steven piling a plate by the queso-fountain. The gymnasium has been renovated to the point that it's unrecognizable. Like something you would see in the movies, covered in patterned wallpaper, velvet carpet, oak tables rented from moneybags estates, non-alcoholic champagne, and fine dining entrees available at the premium all you can eat buffet.

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"Steven! When did you get here?" Principal Bann asks.

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"Uh, Roger gave me a ride, I think." Steven says, cramming a handful of steak nachos into his mouth.

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Principal Bann perks up.

"Roger has arrived!?" 

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"Nah, he wont up to Mt. Olpmus" Steven mumbles with his mouthful.

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"Hmph. It's unlike Roger to miss a schooling festivity."

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     It's unlike anything an earthly mortal has ever witnessed. After two hours of light-speed travel through various galaxies, cosmic storms, and countless solar systems. Apollo and Roger stand before a gateway made of Olympian emerald and stone. Cursed clouds make entry from above impossible. A paved emerald road prevents infiltration from below. The only way inside is admittance from Alexiares and Anicetus, the divine twin daughters of Hercules. The guardians of Mt. Olympus. Their plan isn't an elegant one but it's the best they could come up with in less than forty hours. Using Roger's cloaking technology, they'll wait until someone else shows up. Once the gates open, they plan to piggy-back their way inside undetected. However, there is one thing they did not account for.

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The waiting.

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     To our heroes dismay, these old gates don't open as much as they did in Apollo's day. The gods have grown lazy, complacent in their monotonous, sinful, lifestyles. The hours. The days. Still, the doors do not open.

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     By day three, Apollo and Roger curb their hunger with food pellets that Roger had prepared for an emergency situation like this. The moments awake move slower than they should. The most interesting thing to happen was when an intergalactic snail died while searching for a way out. How did it get in here? Was it banished from Olympus as well? Are there any other snails lurking around this closed entrance way? The realms may never know...

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     Time crawls by at the speed of the dead snail, it doesn't help that time literally moves slower on Olympus. The anxiety grows for our heroes as they remain perfectly still. Their mission is stuck in limbo until these damn doors open. Roger has spent the last hour thinking about it. He can picture it now. The mighty stone doors, rumbling. Just thirty seconds. Come on. Just open for thirty seconds! That's all they need to get this show on the road. How much longer must they sit still on this hard emerald floor? They have not forgotten why they're here, what they must accomplish. But it doesn't change the dull feeling that creeps all the way down into their bones. Apollo hums a quiet tune to pass the time…

             

🎶"chilling on an emerald street. blazing eeendo. lookin' for Jihnn and Zeus."🎶

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Roger aggressively nudges Apollo, motions for him to be quiet.

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🎶"laaaaid back."🎶

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"dude, shut the fuck up!"

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Two muscular goddesses phase through the stone gateway like burly ghosts. 

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"Look what you did!"

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"What I did!?"

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     Draped in white silk, the goddesses dawn gold laurel crowns in their brown hair, they wear leather arm bracers and shin guards, each equipped with their own unique sword and shield. Anicetus on the left with fiery tattoos that run down her arm, inked by Athena herself. Alexiares on the other hand, has focused more on specializing her armor for both fashion and combat. Together, they point their blades at the cloaked trespassers.

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"What is your purpose here?" Anicetus asks.

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      Roger disables the invisibility function on his armor. He steps forward to present himself to the guardians, as well as his spear. Gripping it tight, he plants the wooden base on the ground.

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Apollo disables his cloak then takes a drag from his joint. 

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"We're here to turn ourselves over to Zeus."

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Anicetus raises her blade to Roger's neck, who remains silent.

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"Who is this?"

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"A lost galactic god seeking refuge." Apollo answers. "He's brought me as his slave. A prisoner for Zeus."

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"You will speak the truth or feel the ire of our blades. No galactic god would dawn earthly metals. Not even on his corpse."

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"As I said, lost in his travels, his only chance for survival was to prove resourceful in an unresourceful world… Oh, and by making me his slave."

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Roger steps closer. 

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"You question the material of my armor, I question your loyalty to Zeus. I've successfully made my voyage with the prisoner your king seeks."

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"Zeus has no interest in imprisoning mortals and demigods."

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Alexiares and Anicetus steady their shields, they march closer.

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"He'd rather they reside in a pool of their own blood." 

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     Roger's wrist gauntlet reveals a series of firearms, he steadies his spear in a defensive stance. Apollo nearly burns his friend while conjuring his trusty bow of flame. Both of the twins lift their hefty blades into position-

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The sound of stone and rubble scraping together. There is a pause, everyone lowers their weapons because the stone doors of Olympus open. A shadowy figure stands within the shining light... The Celtic god, Lugh. 

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"Leave the intruders to me." He commands.

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Anicetus glares, even snarls, at Lugh. Clearly challenging his authority but he keeps his response cool and collected. 

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"Zeus appointed me lead. I am personally in charge of capturing Apollo now that Xerodia has fallen."

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Alexiares motions for Anicetus to step down.

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Lugh approaches Apollo.

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"Too filled with cowardice to face me on your own?"

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Apollo nods at the battle ready twins standing behind Lugh.

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"Easy for you to say."

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     Roger's plan for a stealthy entrance is already off the table. The situation has spiraled out of his control. The immediate consequence of allowing his emotions to lead to rash calculations. What happens if he has to resort to combat? Can he hold his own? After all, what is it that makes a god? 

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     Zeus anticipates an answer from the fates. Who are focused on the wondrous bubbler that levitates at the center of a room better described as a void. Simultaneously, they speak three separate dialects. Something that always annoys Zeus, but he chooses to hold his tongue. Now more than ever he must appease the weavers of destiny. He patiently watches as they remove the gemstones from their corroded skulls and trade them with one another. The cackling old hags place their swapped gems above their brows. They are in the process of looking into as many timelines as can exist in this universe… Again, they speak in tongues but this time Zeus can translate.

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"After all is said and done, one god will stand above all."

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"Heed unearned knowledge. Only thy strong of heart can endure such a burden."

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"To gaze into stars beyond our own, we will require a new thread."

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     The tallest sister pulls a vibrating, gold, string from her satchel. Her bony fingers feed it into the mouthpiece of the wondrous bubbler. The weaving process will take a great deal of magic, concentration, and time. There's an entire universe to feast upon in there after all. To finalize the ritual, each witch removes the gems from their foreheads. They stack them atop the wondrous bubbler. Now watch as each gemstone flows from one color to the next.

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     Back on earth, the tides have turned. Black clouds make the day as dark as night. Fissures rip apart the empty streets. Battles between the jihnn and gods continue to alter reality itself, mother nature is tearing itself apart as a result. All hope is lost for high school student Justine Hatchett performing center stage at the Titillation of Talent.

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     Her melodies do not impress. Her chords too simple to excite. The audience sits completely indifferent to what is in front of them. She is bombing. Behind the curtain, Dr. Bann chomps away at his fingernails like a mental patient eating corn on the cob. He paces back and forth in a frenzy. The man hasn't been this nervous since ripping his pants while going commando during principal evaluations due to a laundry incident. He flails his arms, he wants to scream. Instead, he decides to check on tonight's headlining act to calm himself. He shuffles his way to a diminishing buffet table. The abrupt nature of his return startles Steven, he drops a wagyu slider onto the rented red carpet. The principal pauses for a moment as he tries to remember why he came over here in the first place. 

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"Steven, how are we feeling about tonight's performance?"

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Steven ganders an eyeful of the slider laying in a pile of filth on the floor.

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"So fucking good."

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"You're doing something really noble, y'know? I can't help but feel that if Stonerman was still with us, he'd be proud of what we're doing tonight."

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"OMMNNOMNOMNOM."

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     Steven responds by scarfing down a handful of sliders. A sound that is drowned out by the music on the stage, orchestric-dubstep and tap dancing. The audience seems amused. Principal Bann calmly nods, pours himself a cool glass of fruit-punch, and leaves Steven to his pre-performance ritual. 

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Meanwhile…

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     Apollo and Roger follow Lugh down a pearl corridor to an unknown destination. It may have been a few millennia but Apollo is positive they aren't heading to Zeus' throne room. This entire section of the palace seems to be an extension he's never seen before. Wherever they are going, it is most certainly a trap, and Apollo doesn't care.

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"Yo, Roger, when we find Jihnn do you think we should wish this bastard into a jackass or a pissant?" Apollo asks.

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"Maybe if you guys gave me a wish instead of wasting yours on stupid bullshit, we wouldn't be in this mess." Roger answers.

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"Well I still have two left. Maybe when this is over, you can have my last one." Apollo says.

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"What? Really?"

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"Fuck yeah, man."

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Lugh stops.

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"Enough discussion of the vermin! If your sole concern here is to locate that creature, then go. Search all you'd like."

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Roger cocks his head at Apollo, unable to figure out Lugh's intentions. 

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"Go!" Lugh screams.

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Roger takes this chance, until he realizes his friend isn't following him, Lugh's hand placed on Apollo's shoulder.

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"Apollo will come with me."

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     One hesitant nod from Roger signals to Apollo that there may be some sort of plan. The two reluctantly split up. Roger dashes into unknown palace halls in search of the wondrous bubbler and Apollo left to the will of the "imposter" god of the sun.

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🌿

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     Lugh leads into a mighty corridor. They continue past projected holograms on the walls, paintings, symbols and passages written in every language, even displays of legendary weaponry. They venture down jagged stairs where the sheen white tile becomes increasingly more damaged. The clean overhead lighting is replaced by the warm glow radiating off the torches hung along the walls. Going down deeper, the floor is made entirely of rough stone. This is the most barbaric pathway yet. Lugh's words prove as aggressive as his stride...

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"For too long have I lived in the shadow of you and Helios. For too long have I shined brighter, yet never recognized for who I am. Two millennia wasted, dwelling over this turmoil. Over living up to the name of a drunk? Led to believe I was unworthy of the title, "god of the sun," because of the likes of you?"

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     Lugh's plan is now clear as they stand before a fearsome underground coliseum. He never intended to turn Apollo over to Zeus. Instead, he's brought him to the only place on Olympus where the gods are permitted to spar unrestrained. Here, they are free to push their powers to their fullest without worry of damaging Zeus' kingdom. 

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     They step through the main tunnel, the coliseum appears to be a structure born of the underworld. Tall white columns crafted of ash and volcanic rock, empty chairs made of bone in the stands above. They continue onto a feverish battleground soaked in blood. Here, a new god of the sun will be crowned.

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"Once in position, there will be a ten second grace period. There is no reason to practice illegal tactics as we both know that would sully the crown. This will be an honorable fight to the death." Lugh orders.

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"Big words for a cuck." Apollo answers as his hands ignite, he summons a bow made of the sun's flame.

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     Lugh takes position in a chalked off area across the battlefield. Apollo enters his "safe zone" as well. The ten second grace period is triggered. Ten deep breaths, nine seconds to strategize, eight thousand ghostly seats surround them, seven thousand degrees in the palms of Apollo's hands, six arrows strung in his bow, five millennia of combined combat training, four hundred and twenty tokes from the wondrous bubbler has led to this moment, three hundred feet apart, two rivals lock eyes, one desire burns in their hearts.

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     Six sizzling arrows fly across the battlefield with deadly accuracy. Lugh evades each one with ease, thanks to the boots of Hermes, which grants him super speed. He zips through the air like an out of control electrical current, he bellows an angelic scream. High notes that summon solar flares, whizzing through the air like shining shuriken. Lugh's harmony stirs the field into a luminous frenzy. Several flaring shuriken land closer than Apollo feels comfortable with, but he's too concentrated on lining up his next shot. 'Why is this fucker so fast?'

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     Lugh's heavenly song has transformed the blazing battle environment into a flowing abstract painting come to life. Apollo conjures a larger arrow with a spiral tip, searching for his target within the flame storm. Apollo has walked on the surface of the sun, he will not allow a little heat to throw him off the mark. The time has come to fight fire with fire.

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Breathe…

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     Seconds ahead of his flying opponent, Apollo takes his shot. The arrow spins faster and faster until it twists into a whirlwind of fire as hot as the sun's core. At this exact moment, Lugh's song reaches its crescendo and creates a solar tornado. The attacks clash at the midpoint of the battlefield. An eruption equivalent to a hundred exploding suns! 

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Lugh's harmony continues. Apollo's leering glare fades to a frown. 

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    The ground shimmers like a hell-scape yet not a single scratch was left on either Apollo nor Lugh. It's time for a new strategy. Using the sun's flame, Apollo ignites his entire body. This allows him to blend in with the burning environment without surrendering his sure footing. He crouches low and waits. Aiming at Lugh's feet. If he can eliminate the boots of Hermes, Apollo will have the advantage. The D sharp is the moment he's been waiting for. Lugh takes a deep breath for this more difficult note and Apollo takes his shot.

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The longshot. 

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The raging arrow strikes the center of Lugh's heel... But nothing happens, it doesn't slow him down in the slightest.

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"Come on." Apollo mutters.

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     Apollo stops, removes his fiery camouflage shield, and lowers his bow. Casually strolling to the center of the burning battlefield, where solar energy, shining shuriken, and harsh light, berate him from every angle. They feel as annoying as mosquito bites. Apollo is left with nothing to do but sigh.

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"This isn't working" He says. 

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Lugh stops singing. 

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"Fisticuffs, then?" He replies, holding both of his fists up high.

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     Lugh winds up, grits his teeth with every fiber of his being, then unleashes a hail-mary of a right hook! He connects directly to the jaw of Apollo, who stands more annoyed than ever. Apollo follows through with a stiff, straight up sickening, sucker punch that pounds Lugh on the nose. 

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"Anything?" He asks.

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"Allow a swift leave to the armory. It's not far." Lugh responds.

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Apollo turns his back. 

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"Where do you think you're going?" Lugh asks.

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"This shit got old a long time ago."

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"Perhaps you'd rather settle this over real competition? I propose a karaoke no notes barred contest."

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"I'd sooner impale my own dick than sing with you."

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"How do you suggest we best settle this?"

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Apollo does not answer. Lugh will not accept his silence...

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"Leaving is not an option."

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"Got chess?" Apollo asks.

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Lugh smirks.

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"How about Fidchell?"

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"Close enough."

​

      Roger scours the serene kingdom but finds nothing useful. No clues. No gods. And worst of all, no bubbler. The Roach unit performs its initial perimeter scan and provides a digital layout of the palace. Roger attempts to triangulate the bubbler's location but there is an over flux of magic in the area. He's not used to seeing this many magic systems in one place. There isn't time to decode it all but the castle is too big to rely on sheer luck. Roger weighs the possible factors. He gasps, and reaches for his suit's power core, remembering the fragment used to upgrade his suit.

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"If not Charlie, then who!? Reeee-Ooooo."

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     Carter, age 18, has been practicing ventriloquism since he was young. He may be throwing his voice perfectly, and the material isn't half bad, but his dummy is far too disturbing for the audience to pay attention to the jokes. Instead repelled by the grotesque, cursed, doll. Principal Bann bolts out of his seat. He shuffles through the disturbed audience and paces directly to the barren buffet table.

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"Steven! Only fifteen minutes until showtime. Shouldn't you be backstage, getting ready?"

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     A flash of lightning illuminates the catastrophic scene outside. Steven is too busy stuffing his face to respond to his principal, who continues to speak anyways.

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"Laughter is the cure for dark times. Entertainment can help lift a heavy heart, inspire deeper insight, and most importantly, be a beacon of joy during a time it may seem in short supply. Tonight we provide another reminder to the student body that this life is worth living. When reality starts to fall apart, visionaries like us will be here to piece it back together. If Stonerman has taught us anything, it's that no darkness can overcome the power of a strong education. Whether in science, gymnastics, or the arts… Damn it, I.M. High will enrich this world… In the face of the apocalypse, the show must go on."

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     Principal Bann snaps out of his emotional trance and adjusts his tie. He reaches for a shrimp cocktail but finds the buffet table has been reduced to ruin. Nothing remains except for a pile of filthy plates and destroyed napkins. And somehow, Steven has vanished. 

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     Inside the charred coliseum, two rivals sit at a pearl gaming table center of the battlefield. Above the burning embers, the board is set. Lugh's yellow and gold pieces face Apollo's white and silver. The fate of the multiverse has come down to this game to determine who is worthy of the title, god of the sun.

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     Fidchell is most associated with chess but differs in many ways. For example, in this game there is a single king piece which the players must share. The goal is to capture or escort the king to your side of the board. The rules of Fidchell are as follows.

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1. The rules of Fidchell are as follows.

2. The defending player starts the game with more pawn pieces. The attacker begins with more attacking pieces (knight, rook, and bishop.) Both players start with one queen and the king belongs to no one. Defending player always goes first.

3. The goal of the game is to escort the king from the throne room (center of the board) to a Providence at one of the four corners of the board. In order to do so, you must create a row of pieces that act as a guide to the respective corner. Which results in a victory.

4. The only way to capture the king is to surround it with four attacking pieces or pawns. 

5. Loss occurs once a player possesses less than the required 7 pieces to escort the king. Or when the king has been captured by your opponent. 

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     A sand timer crafted out of a willow branch is flipped and the game begins. As defender, Lugh starts. He moves a pawn two spaces forward. Then he maneuvers a second pawn two spaces forward as well. Pawns act differently in this game, they can move two spaces forward on every turn. They also have the perk of giving the player the choice to move two pawns in the same turn. The timer is on Apollo, who responds with an identical move. Two pawns forward.

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     Lugh moves his first pawn forward one space then yet another pawn two spaces. The sand timer is flipped to Apollo. He takes a moment to analyze the board. There are more spaces and pieces to examine in this game. Different formations and strategies to consider. He decides to bring his knight into play. Lugh snaps the sand timer and immediately moves two additional pawns two spaces forward. The timer back on Apollo. It appears Lugh is building a defensive wall of pawns, all heading for the throne room…

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     The broken fragment of the wondrous bubbler stored enough wishing magic to provide Roger with the coordinates of the Jihnn's location. He prowls a winding maze of hallways, endless sealed rooms, and ancient puzzles. Every trap, tomb, and riddle prove to be a cakewalk for Roger. There is no time to appreciate the intricacies of these challenges nor consider who designed them. He effortlessly steps away from the final trap room, into a grand hallway of marble and granite, when an Egyptian puzzle piece manifests directly in front of him. A congratulatory prize for solving the series of puzzles or an invitation to something greater? 

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      Upon closer inspection, there is indeed another riddle inscribed on the side of the puzzle piece. Written in hieroglyphics that translates to, "What is at the beginning of every rapture? Can be found inside each scarab, and at the end of Pandora?" Hmmm. An interesting quandary but the prison is around the corner. Roger secures the golden puzzle piece in his metallic suit. No more distractions. It's time to finish this.

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     The prison smells of salt and fairy dust. Jihnn is shackled to the wall, bound by magic. It's skull mask points down at the ground, the gem at its center has faded to gray. To Roger's surprise, it doesn't take much to break the magical bond that trapped the Jihnn. His enchanted spear slices the shackles clean in two. Jihnn tumbles to the ground, it musters the energy to speak…

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"~θ Now is not the time for jokes you sick, twisted, machine. θ ~" Jihnn says to the hovering ROACH unit.

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"What did Zeus do to you?" Roger asks. "Basic magic shouldn't be able to hold someone as powerful as you."

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"~ θ Zeus is not solely responsible. It required too much of my magic, my life force, to construct the universe inside of my bubbler. When I'm away from it, I am weak. I can feel myself drifting farther from my world with each passing second. My bubbler, too damaged. My universe becoming more perverted. θ ~"

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"What if we bring you back to Apollo? He'll wish all of this away."

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"~θ I am not strong enough to grant his wish without my bubbler. θ~"

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     After a moment of contemplation, Apollo's knight nears an opposing pawn at the edge of the board. Lugh is thoroughly prepared. He moves an adjacent pawn diagonally, pinning the knight between the board's edge and attacking pawn. Apollo has forgotten an unwritten rule, players may use the edge of the board to pin a piece as a method of capture.

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"You're playing like a novice." Lugh taunts.

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     Lugh moves a second pawn closer to the board's center, pinning one of Apollo's pawns. In just one turn, Lugh captured two of Apollo's pieces all while adding to his defensive wall. Apollo ponders the board state as the sand in the timer spills. He decides to move a rook beside the throne room. Which leaves Lugh's pawn for the taking on the next turn in the hopes to whittle down the opposition's numbers. Lugh moves the intended pawn two spaces forward, aligning it diagonally with the back of the board. A logical setup to escort the king, however, it's too obvious of a move for someone playing this arrogantly. It has to be a trap. Apollo won't take the bait. Not yet. 

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     Apollo rubs his chin, deciding to move his rook away from all of this action. Lugh has no choice but to question this random maneuver. Apollo cannot escort the king this way nor can he move the rook anywhere meaningful from there. Swiftly and decisively, the Celtic god moves another pawn into an escorting position. Four out of seven pawns are lined diagonally from the throne room toward. 

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     The foundations of a skilled player are on full display by both contestants. Piece after piece. Attackers and pawns clash! Neither are able to outwit the other, resorting to wildcard plays that have led to this unconventional board state. An adept onslaught. Apollo has sacrificed a rook, knight, and bishop to break up Lugh's defensive wall, leaving him more open to captures. They both seem more focused on surprising each other with out of the box plays rather than escorting or capturing the king. Apollo meanders his knight near Lugh's queen. The queen is immediately moved into Apollo's corner providence. Which triggers a house rule that allows Lugh to return one piece to the board. Of course, he chooses a basic pawn.

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     Entering the deep waters of this game, their strategies become more intricate. Apollo has three attackers in escorting position, a knight set to capture a pawn on his next turn, and his queen diagonal from his opponents corner providence. Victory is in reach, however, Lugh is well aware that if he doesn't do something, this game will end in four moves.

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     As quick as a hiccup, Lugh moves his knight into attacking position, prepared to capture Apollo's bishop next turn. Apollo is aware of the danger but he instead moves a pawn into his diagonal escorting line. Lugh hesitantly captures Apollo's bishop as he studies the board state. Perhaps there is time to earn a technical victory by eliminating enough of Apollo's pieces before he can escort the king to victory. Three more moves until the endgame. 

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     Apollo puts another pawn into his escorting line and flips the timer. Two moves until endgame. Outside of Apollo's escorting row, he's down to three pawns and one rook to defend him. As the timer sand slips away, Lugh sacrifices his queen to disrupt Apollo's escorting line. The queen is placed in the middle of Apollo's pieces. Which triggers a unique response, Lugh may have captured one of Apollo's pawns, but his queen is captured in the process-  Only to realize the game is already over. 

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     Apollo has reached Fidchell. The rook on the side of the board. If Lugh is to move any of his remaining pieces, they would be captured in between that damned rook and an escorting line piece. Apollo has been setting the board every turn since positioning the rook. There is nowhere for Lugh to run. After the loss of his queen, if Lugh were to attack, he would be left with less than the seven pieces required to escort the king. If he does nothing, Apollo will escort the king to his Providence in two turns. Sometimes on the road the glory, you sacrifice too many pawns. Reluctantly, Lugh tips over his seven remaining pieces. 

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Apollo smiles,

"The god of mother fucking chess."

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"So this is it then."

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Apollo extends his hand.

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"Good game." 

​

….

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"Good game- Apollo, god of the sun." 

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"So then, where's the Jihnn?"

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Lugh gulps. He can barely hold his eyes open, slouching in his seat, his shimmer has faded. 

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"He's being contained at the southeast chamber. Knock yourself out." he grumbles. "Nothing matters anymore."

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     Apollo receives a message from Roger which says he's on his way back with the Jihnn!  Finally, a second to chill. Apollo retrieves a thick blunt from his poncho pocket and asks a controversial question, "Want to hit this?"

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"I haven't experienced anything new in, I don't know how long. I've certainly never tried anything forbidden. Seems a fitting send off before the noose. The embodiment of my failure. A visual representation of my dreams going up in smoke. Perhaps it will damage my intelligence to the point I no longer desire being god of the sun."

​

   Apollo uses the sun's flame to ignite the blunt, the scene fades to a smoky haze. When the smoke settles, Lugh lays sprawled and unconscious in his chair. A few puffs of the Jihnn's weed was way too much for this first timer. With a smile, Apollo kicks back and strums a fiery lyre in the key of E.

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"Wait no, key of G." 

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     Dr. Bann mutters obscenities to himself as he tunes his banjo behind the stage curtain. After his star attraction disappeared, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Ready to perform in the final act of the night, it's up to him to send the student body and the board home happy.  He nervously harmonizes along with his out of tune banjo.

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"Showtime."

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A disgusting belch disrupts the principal's zen-like preparation. 

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"Steven! Where have you been?"

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Stevens' glazed eyes are slow to meet the Principal's panicked expression. 

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"Are there any cream puffs left?"

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"Does this mean you're ready, son?" Dr. Bann replies. "How'd your material come along? Any last minute butterflies? Have any bud?"

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"Wha?"

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"Nothing! Go break a leg!"

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     The desperate principal shoves the belligerent student through the curtain then returns to his seat. He's about to bear witness to the biggest event this school has ever seen. Hair disheveled, Steven slumps his way up to the microphone.

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"Hello. My name is Steven, and I was blackmailed into being here tonight."

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     Meager chuckles scatter across the otherwise silent crowd. Under the bright lights, Steven's charisma shines for everyone to see. Extruding undeniable charm with his onstage presence. He continues with a few safe, well spoken, soft ball one liners to warm up the crowd. Principal Bann couldn't feel anymore pleased by what he's witnessing. Scarce giggles fill the room as Steven ramps into the grade-A material. 

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"In my time at this school, I've learned a lot of formulas. Circles, pies, quadratics. Everything under the sun. But in my mind, our curriculum is missing the most important one. The formula for dating."