Story #78 - Harder They Fall

Harder They Fall

Slamming his hand down on the table Satan stood, deep red skin shimmering in the half-light that one of the other deities had created. They'd called this meeting, asked him to attend if he would be so kind, but he could see an ambush coming a mile away. It wasn't his fault he was less social than they; less interested in fighting over the fleeting emotions of the creatures they'd created, but they always seemed to take his separation as a personal affront.

Baal had been the first to contact him, probably because they knew he'd be inclined to listen to the younger Being. Baal had made a number of costly blunders on his way up the ladder to Godhood, and the larger group considered him non-threatening and mellow – a sort of younger brother they could send to do their errands whenever they wished. Baal seemed fine with the arrangement, and if he had any plans of his own that would take him up and past their ranks, he kept them wisely close to his chest.

Though Baal had been eloquent and amusing as always, Satan had brushed him off. He had a number of interesting projects on the go and deity meetings tended to be stuffy thing, but repeated appearances by members of the council both high and low had convinced him he would be better off simply attending and getting it over with rather than dodging their attempts to track him down for the rest of eternity.

Now, he realized he'd been played.

“This is an outrage, Odin,” he said, and the helmeted god looked down into his lap, clearly uncomfortable. On the whole, the Norse pantheon were an honorable lot and Odin the most of all. This decision would not sit well with him and if Satan was to find any allies, he and his ilk would be the best option.

“I'm sorry, Satan,” the older god said, voice deep and sad, “but I have no choice. I've given my word.”

He hung his head – this was madness. What right did they have to decide his future, his destiny? He wasn't one of the originals, but that didn't mean he was newly raised, either. Fully half of the group was younger than he, and his vote should have counted for something – he should have at least been consulted!

“I can't possibly agree to what you're asking. I won't.” He kept his voice firm. Negotiation was the soul of civility, but there were times when a god needed to take a stand.

“Dearest one,” a female voice slid over the assembled divinities, “I'm afraid you have little choice in the matter.”

“Threats, Hera? Really? Have you stooped so low?”

The goddess swept to the front of the group, starched white robe barely moving as she approached. She was a stiff one, though many of the others considered her a mother figure, one who could pick them up if they fell or made some hideous human-related blunder.

“Consider, dear one, what you would gain by agreeing. We would, of course, leave you alone – which has always been your desire,” she reached out to touch him but he stepped back, “you see? You were ever afraid of being too close.”

“You left me alone before – why change things now?”

“We would also provide you with an – area – in which to conduct your business, free from interference.”

What was this?

“Free? As in, entirely? No meddling from any of you, ever?” She nodded. He had to admit, that did sweeten the pot. There were a number of experiments he was interested in performing, ones that were constantly interrupted by petty bickering and human wars caused by his brothers and sisters. Still, the price of this real estate was too high.

“No deal,” he said, crossing his arms and stepping back, “and I'll be leaving now. I know what you're trying to do here and why, but your approach is all wrong. Either take responsibility yourselves, or create some new patsy to take the fall for you.”

Turning, he found Hera behind him, face dark. The light in the room began to dim and he could feel a shield being lowered into place over them all; if more than ten of them were behind it, there was no way he could escape.

“Mother,” he said quietly, hoping the more personal form of address would break the grip of this fool idea on her, “this has never been done before. Petty disputes and quarrels, yes, but to imprison a god? Think of the path you are treading down, here. Think of the consequences.”

Sighing, she opened her arms to him. “We have, my son, we have. This is our only recourse. Accept it, and all shall be well.”

He stepped forward, head bowed, but at the last second threw a fist to her jaw, spun, and ran past her, throwing his arms out and concentrating all of his will on a single spot in front of him. A shield this large would require overlapping sections, and if he could catch someone just holding their portion instead of actively maintaining it, he might be able to break through.

The shield bent, flexing under his power, but Hera recovered more quickly than he anticipated and leapt onto his back, hands going around his neck. Blackness took him, chased by an overwhelming anger.

***

His realm was large enough, though too hot for his liking. While he'd been able to find a number of efficient assistants from the human souls his former family sent down, his own freedom had been severely curtailed.

“Prince of Darkness”, they named him, “the evil one”. He was a convenient scapegoat for all of their mistakes, a way to distract human kind when their deities were in fact to blame. They had erred, in forcing him down here, in giving him so much freedom but preventing his escape. Humans were excellent at taking direction, especially if it was provided with the proper potential reinforcement.

His experiments finally had scope, and a meaning beyond the theoretical; they wanted humans to shame him, to revile his name and fear his form.

He would give them a reason to.

- D