It's Simple: I OWN You {Panic}

[Hades]

"Hey, they just don't make dorm rooms like they used to," Hades said, looking around the room. Bits of furniture were scorched to nearly nothing, blasted away as if they weren't quite there. The bed looked like someone had decided to set fire to the pillow if only to see what happened. Not that any of this affected the god of death himself: he was standing there in the middle of the room, looking confused.

He snapped his fingers, and the one piece of furniture still in one piece in the room, a chair, slid over to him. He sat in it easily, popping a leg up to fold. His fingers templed together, and he stared at the door. This wasn't a matter of a spider just waiting for a fly to stumble into his web, oh no. That wasn't a fair analogy at all.

Because in that analogy, the fly would have a choice. It wouldn't feel a pulsing need, an unshakeable desire, an uncanny pull yanking, pulling, demanding it head to the room in particular, one that had likely been the fly's home.

And the moment Panic walked in, he'd find his boss smiling at him. "Miss me?"

[Panic]

Panic felt a change the moment Hades arrived. Like something deep in the pit where his soul was supposed to be began to twist and pull at him. This was a sensation that he had felt so often for so many years that he hadn't noticed it was missing until it returned. He had been walking around the grounds as a wolf in a pack, blending in and trying to stay out of trouble, when it hit him. He froze, causing alarm from several of his canine companions. Many of them twitched their ears and sniffed the air. They looked at him in confusion when none of them sensed any danger, but Panic hadn't moved. He felt paralyzed with fear. How could Hades be here? After all that time he was here before Hades had not followed him. Perhaps he was mistaken, maybe it was some other power reaching in and ripping at his insides. Yet, Panic had found himself among other gods and great wizards. None of them made him feel this way, because none of them had created him. None of them had to power to make him feel this way. None of them had put this cuff on his wrist in order to quell any emotions they thought useless and impractical for a minion to have. It was Hades. There was no real doubt. The last person on this earth or off it that Panic wanted to see and, yet, he found his feet moving toward the dorms.

He was walking, then running. He didn't look back to check, but none of wolves followed his lead. For that he would have had to have been the alpha. Being an alpha was not Panic's lot in life. He was a follower, a soldier, a slave. Every instinct he had told him to obey the pull, to return to his master, despite his head screaming for the opposite. If he tried, if he truly tried, he may have had a chance of at least making him wait, but Panic was in no state to resist. Not to mention, he had a deadly need to confirm it really was Hades, even if there was really no other explanation. Lets call it the tiniest and last glimmer of hope he had left.

Somewhere between his starting point and his destination, Panic had morphed back into a human. He was pale and sickly looking. His clothes worn and dirty. He'd been spending a lot of time as animals lately, he had no use for new clothes, but there was no point in hiding from Hades. He knew all his forms. He knew everything about him. He created him. He had created him to be a soulless torture machine and he was a disappointment the moment his feet touched the ground. He was supposed to instill panic, not be panicked. He was supposed to do a lot of things, mostly he failed. He'd been doing oddly better when he'd returned from Tintagel, but then the portal had brought him back again. Surely Hades was angry. He had good reason to be. Panic had one soul purpose and he'd vanished. That didn't mean he feared the punishment any less.

Gasping, Panic skidded into the dorms and straight down a long hallway. He knew where he was going, he could feel it. It was his old room. A bed in a place that didn't echo with the wailing souls and clanging, unimaginable torture devices. He rounded on the dorm room, expecting to have to push a door open, but it had been charred into nothingness. The effort he had been planning on using on the door caused him to stumble and hit the floor hard. He looked ahead of him from his place on the ground, shoot billowing around him. His nose was inches from his master's seat. A seat that had once belonged to him. Everything was burned. He was angry. Of course he was. Panic curled his legs underneath him, wincing in pain from the fall, and braved a glance toward the man in the chair. That tiny bit of hope urging him to be certain this was, indeed, Hades and not an impostor of some kind. Anything would have been better than the real thing.

"Miss me?"

Panic whimpered and put his head back down. He was certain this was Hades and, like Pandora's box, the last thing left to be given up was hope.

[Hades]

"What's the matter, Panic?" asked Hades, eyes going wide. He rose from his seat, a look of concern on his face. "I mean, don't tell me you're sad to see your old boss!? I came all this way just to check up on you," Hades reached down, catching Panic's chin on the crook of his finger. He tilted it back, directing that hopeless gaze up at him. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you're missing? You're a key part of my plan, Panic!" Hades reached up, moving as if to brush away Panic's tears, assuming he had any. The god then began running his hands along Panic's likely trembling form. "Just look at you, dressed like you're some kind of street urchin. Is that anyway to represent our brand, I ask you?"

Hades snapped his fingers, and Panic would find himself wearing a suit that matched his master's almost perfectly. It was made of excellent fabric, expensive fabric. Hades flicked an imaginary bit of lint off, giving Panic a bright smile.

"There you go! Now you look sharp! A real representative of our team," Hades gave Panic a little shake. "So I gotta ask, Panic, bud, pal, amigo," he patted the guy again. "How are things going? Find your old friends here waiting for you? I bet you did. I bet they're all here!" Hades walked past Panic, looking around. "in fact, I bet everyone and everything you know and love is just right around here. So tell me, Panic," he looked over his shoulder, eyes going dark. "How's it feel to pretend to be loved?"

[Panic]

Panic kept his head as low as possible, his body shivering with waves of terror and despair. Even if he hadn't had a whole lot of history with the god of the underworld, Panic felt he radiated darkness like a thick cloud of misery. The feeling of giving into eternal sleep often washed over him during their little chats. Of course, Panic never really had that option. That made it all the more painful. Panic had grown almost as disdainful of his existence as he assumed Hades had for all these years, but he was made to endure for the sake of his master's plan. Despite its overwhelming control on most mortals, the fear of death was not one of Panic's top billed nightmares simply because he could not die. There are worse things than death. In some cases death may be the best option. Yet, the touch of Hades' finger on his chin sent a chilling reminder that Hades had created Panic, and he likely could destroy him too. There may not be another power in all of the universe that could do the same. Still, as he spoke and wiped a tear from his face, Panic knew death wasn't in the cards today. Hades had another form of destruction in mind.

Panic would have thought him not worth his time previously. He had been quite useless for a lot of year, other than being the perfect beating bag. Hades had not given up, it seemed. When he returned he tried to fix him and it had been working. Hades just might make a useful monster out of him yet. How was what kept the silent tears streaming down his face. Panic knew he didn't have a four part lesson plan with constructive criticism to get Panic back on track. Panic had connections here. He had things that Hades would certainly consider made him weak. That was unacceptable.

Panic shuttered and tried to remember how to breathe as new and improved fabric laced around him to replace the old suit he'd arrived in. Passing out wasn't going to improve his situation any. Not to mention, if Hades felt like talking, Panic needed to listen. Partly this was because he wanted to know what he or anyone else was in for, but also because he was a fully programmed minion and could hardly resist.

Every time he touched him it was like a new collection of boulders weighed down on his back. Luckily he was already on the ground so there wasn't much buckling his body could do. He didn't move away or try to avoid it. What was the point? There was no escape. Panic hardly moved except when forced to until Hades mentioned what he'd been dreading since the moment he felt the pull. Friends. Della, he thought, trying to push the idea of her being tortured from his head. He sat up a little instinctively, but kept his arms wrapped tightly around his body and his eyes down. Did he know about Della or was he just randomly assuming Panic had tried to make friends. That seemed unlikely. Panic knew he thought very little of him. He listened carefully, but still did not speak. Love. What did either of them know about love? Panic had seen his master quite taken with the goddess of the harvest, but their was meddling involved and, even then, Panic could never assume Hades knew how to love. Not that Panic was an expert, but he was in love whether he wanted to be or not. As for Della...

As if reading his thoughts, Hades turned darker and cast a seething remark his way. Panic twitched his head in the direction of his voice, but did not look up. to his surprise he thought it still feels nicer than being in hell, but he let the bold idea pass as quickly as it came. Panic didn't want to speak. Panic wasn't sure he could speak, but Hades had asked him a question. He was supposed to answer.

"I-I-It-t-t" He stammered, the shaking making it worse. He opened his mouth again, but found no sound so he simply whimpered again and shook his head. Even if Della had been lying all those times she'd told him she loved him. Even if she took that ring as part of some massive plot to devastate him, it would have been a beautiful lie worth falling for. The ring. Panic was wearing his. The dark metal band he had fashioned to be the pair to hers when he was certain he'd never see her again. He'd kept it hidden, very hidden, back home. Now he was wearing it. Panic curled the fingers of his left hand into a fist and tried to stuff it under his other folded arm. Even if Hades saw it, would he assume it was representative of something special, or wishful thinking? Panic prayed Hades was too busy monologuing to notice.

[Hades]

For the most part, Hades was too busy monologuing to notice. "Oh, I'm sorry, maybe that's a bit harsh? I suppose it is technically possible for someone to fall in love with you. You are just the creation of distilled Panic, made by a god of death to be a representative of his plans, a cog in a machine. People fall in love with things all the time: pets, dramas, television shows, characters they've written," Hades bobbed his head. "Sure, sure, you could totally be loved. Bit harsh of me there."

He turned, spreading his arms wide, beaming a smile. "So, hey, Panic, buddy, pal, compadre," he stepped closer, putting his hands back on Panic's shoulder. "Why don't you tell me all about them? The people who fell in love with you," he patted Panic's shoulders, before moving to lightly tap the side of Panic's face. 'C'mon, I know you wanna share. Confess to your daddy, your padre, your papa," he pinched Panic's face. "Who loves my little Panic, eh? Who's all twitter-pated over thoughts of you? Who scribbles 'I heart Panic' in their journal? 'cuz there's gotta be," his eyes flashed dark, "something keeping you here, right?"

The fingers tightened their grip, digging into Panic's flesh for a moment. Hades seemed to realize this, pulling back, smiling and smoothing the fabric, giving Panic a condescending, strangely paternal smile, the sort of smile an abusive father may give their target, i mean child.

[Panic]

Panics breathing slowed to the pace of someone asleep as Hades continued his speech. There was no use in crying and hyperventilating anymore. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the strange comfort of despair. Panicking required some desperate semblance of hope that he might get out of this, that he might not endure terrible pain, that he might be able to change the storm of destruction that lay in his future. Panic knew none of this was true. Even if he could change it, it wasn’t his place to do so. He was no god, just the sorry creation of of one. It was not his place to make any decisions for himself or others. He was meant to serve. Even that fire that had sparked inside him ever since he’d met Della, grew dim in his master’s presence. But, it was still there. It was there where it had never been before he’d come to Tintagel. Part of it made him a worse minion. This is Why Hades sought to control it. Within his power, however, Hades could use this new found flame to push Panic in the direction he was planning on in the first place: a soulless hell-bent machine.

Panic listened closely, but was careful to keep his eyes down. Hades often called them friends. Of course Hades called a lot of people friends that he was not really friends with. He liked to talk, he liked to manipulate, but Panic didn’t need his false flattery. He reminded him that he could be loved, but no amount of reassurances could ever convince Panic of that. Panic knew this simply meant he was building up to another rage. Panic didn’t want to cause any more problems, he didn’t want to give Hades any more reason to be mad. He stayed quiet and waited for the questions. He tried not to flinch too hard every time Hades moved his hand to pat him on his shoulder or his face. Any touch could turn from a gentle tap to a vicious attack at any second, but if he moved, if he resisted, it might be worse.

He wanted to know who loved Panic. Why? Was he really so important that it was worth seeking out the things that made this place decent for Panic? Was it just that he was bored with torturing someone else, or had he really affected his plans so terribly? Panic wouldn’t have assumed he was important enough to make a difference if he was there or not. Yet, Hades and put in effort trying to keep him. He’d put that band on his wrist. He was here now asking who loved him. Did he assume it was another god who was trying to spite him? It didn’t make sense to Panic, why would he really care?

He let out a pitiful cry of pain when Hades hand began to tear into his skin, and turned his head to the side, away from Hades dark gaze. Then the pain passed and Panic’s eyes opened in shock. Why would he stop hurting him? Surely he wanted to bat him around for a few centuries until he grew bored and moved on to a new sorted plot. He wanted something from him. Or...had he missed him? Panic turned his head shakily toward Hades, braving another guilty glance up at him. For a moment he looked almost kind, a gentle smile on his lips. Was he angry he left because Persephone wasn’t back yet and he had very little in the way of company in the Underworld? Could it be Panic meant just a bit more to him than he ever could have believed. The idea was insane, but Panic’s riddled mind coveted the possibility.

”I…” Panic breathed, his eyes shifting slowly between colors, trying to decide on the right defense. They landed on a brown, Della’s eyes. Even if it was just that Hades was jealous of her affection, he couldn’t tell him who she was. He loved her more than he feared Hades. His head dropped back down.

”N-no one loves mmme” he offered quietly. ”I-I d-didn’t come b-b-back on pur-purpose.”

[Hades]

The claim had Hades letting out a harsh laugh. "You didn't come back on purpose?" he repeated. "You're going with that?" he let out another disbelieving laugh, holding up a finger, nearly pointing but not quite pointing at Panic. "You didn't come back on purpose. You expect me to believe that you didn't come back to the exact same spot you ran off to last time, just as all our plans were coming together on purpose? Wow, just," Hades shook his head, waggling the finger before suddenly appearing right in front of Panic, inches from him. "How stupid do you think I am?"

He snarled, smoke starting to curl from his shoulders. "Centuries, Panic. That's how long I've been around. That's almost how long I've been putting together these little pieces. Getting everything in order. Setting up the play board. Making allies, getting it all just right. Right for us. Remember us, Panic?" He hissed, looming over Panic now, definitely taller. "You were part of those p-p-plans, Panic. A crucial part. We were going to become the new rulers. Me and Persephone as king and queen of the gods, put the people who do the work on top. Put those other lecherous, hedonistic, self-righteous so called gods on the bottom for a while. And you were going to be right there with us."

Hades was beside Panic now, almost leaning over his shoulder. He gestured upward, smoke forming an image. 'Right there, Panic. Part of my plan. Add a little panic into the midst, throw off minor deities, help me with my little hero problem. But oh," Hades covered his mouth with his fingers, "you came here. But not on -p-p-purpose," he hissed the last word into Panic's ear. "You sure you WANNA STICK WITH THAT?"

[Panic]

Panic had done something wrong. It was hard to think straight with so many mixed emotions where tangling up his brain and his heart. There was a moment where he considered Hades might have more than just contempt for him and he slipped into hoping he could not tell him what he wanted to hear. Panic fell into this trap very often and it almost always ended poorly. Yet he never learned because there was a flaw in his creation. There was some light, some empathy, some desire to be loved despite knowing he never could be. Not even by his creator.

Panic’s heart picked up pace the moment Hades laughed and he knew he had said the wrong thing. He scrambled to his feet, his body instinctively trying to prepare himself to run. Running was not an option, but he couldn’t control all of his fear born impulses at once. His ears were ringing, but Hades words cut through to them anyhow. He gasped and put his hands in front of his face as Hades appeared in front of him. What was going to happen? Was he to be burned or maimed or just screamed at? What would his punishment be this time? His lungs felt like they were about to explode as his breathing became ragged again. "I don’t I don’t!” Panic insisted feebly. He did not think he was stupid, that was why he feared him so much.

Panic could smell the smoke curling off of Hades like the memory of a thousand times he’d been scorched before. Our, us, we Panic heard the words, but couldn’t comprehend them. They weren’t in this together, Panic was part of the plan, but he’d receive none of the glory. Why should he? Even if he somehow managed to do something right, it would have likely been an accident. Yet Hades said he was a crucial part of his plans. Crucial. It was almost kind of him to say. Panic, thought so. Here he was thinking he meant nothing to Hades, but he was awfully upset that he had gone missing. He should have tried harder to come back home.

Panic closed his eyes for a moment, wincing at Hades’ mockery of his stutter, but opened them again when Hades shifted once more. He wanted to keep them shut, but needed to know which direction danger would be coming from. An image in smoke appeared in front of him. Painting a picture of a scene he would never succeed in helping his master achieve. He could try, though, couldn’t he? He could try harder.

Hades yelled and Panic squeaked helplessly. He turned toward Hades and began to back up toward the crumbling wall behind him. His arms outstretched in front of him, pleading. ”NO- p-please- I’m sorry- I’m sorry!”

[Hades]

More protests, finally ending in a plea. Hades watched his minion back away. The god's eyes smoldered, smoke still curling about his shoulders. That was the Panic he knew, a sniveling, stuttering, pathetic excuse for a being. Arms thrown out as if they'd somehow shield the wretch from Hades' wrath. Why had he ever made this thing part of his scheme?

"You're definitely sorry," Hades said, eyes narrowing. "But words aren't enough, are they Panic? Because if they were, you'd be off skipping through daises, relieved, but we both know that you're cowering. Because that's all you're made to do, isn't it, Panic? But hey, you've learned a few tricks, right? Put on that human skin, run around like a real boy and everything. Bet you fell in love or something like it. Because we both know that love always works out, doesn't it?"

Hades walked over to a mostly scorched dresser. He ran his hands over it, and there was soon just a pile of ash there, ash and smoke curling from Hades hand. "So stop being sorry and tell me the truth, Panic. Who are you protecting? Who are you hiding? Because you can tell me, or I can find out. I mean, not like I didn't, oh, make you. Forget that part? Bet you didn't. 'cuz you don't forget your maker, do you?" Hades' smiled again, eyes flaring. "now. GIVE ME HER NAME" Actual hell fire shot out of Hades' shoulders this time, that barely checked anger erupting in a quite visible way.

[Panic]

Panic kept backing up til he felt charred wallpaper flaking beneath his fingers. As Hades moved around the room he slide over into the corner in a full blown frenzy. His eyes switched rapidly mimicking those of everyone he'd ever met, even flashing to Hades own dark pupils a few times. His body scrambled to defend itself, but he was so terrified, even full on shifting seemed to be stuck in limbo. Every now and again he'd feel a pull on his bones like his body wanted to morph, but his brain wouldn't allow it. If he shifted and tried to hide, Hades would be angrier. If he shifted now everything would some how escalate to even worse than this. This was pretty darn horrific, so Panic was keen to keep it from going any further.

However, not shifting didn't seem to be enough to quell Hades rage. He mentioned love again, only this time there was no mockery of it in his voice. This time he said it like it was a hot knife tearing through him. He said it like it made him feel when he thought of the way Della looked when he'd tried to attack her. How could Hades know he was in love? Had he seen the ring? He could have talked to anyone, but Panic felt certain he had just arrived. Or, perhaps, he only thought that because Hades had only just called him. Who would have told him then? Any of the onlookers when he'd first been pulled back? He'd acted so strangely, could they even be certain he was in love? What did it matter? Hades seemed to know, like he always did. He always seemed to know Panic's greatest fears and deepest secrets. If he found out, Panic used to think. 'If' is good. Yet, Hades always did find out and there was always Hell to pay.

Still panic said nothing, but scrambled closer to a corner he couldn't possibly get any closer too. The dresser was reduced to dust. It was his turn next if he kept his mouth shut. He continued and Panic tried not to look at him as his venomous words fell on his ears and made him wince. His face and hands were covered is ash from the wall, his light hair turning dark with the charred remains of his room. He whimpered and tears cut paths down his dirty cheeks. He shook his head before Hades was finished, but dared not fight any further. He was right. He was just going to find out anyway. Whether Panic told him or not he would find her and it would be his fault for loving her. Still, he was resolved. Don't say it, was the only thing he let echo in his racing mind. Don't say it, don't say it. That's all he had to do, just keep his mouth shut and die, at least then Hades would have no reason to hunt her down. Hopefully. His heart pounded harder and harder as Hades grew hotter and then there was a burst of flame and-

"DELLA" He shouted in a strangled cry. The name passed through his lips without permission and he felt stunned and imminently remorseful. He stopped shaking, his eyes growing wide. "Don't h-h-h" he tried, but he couldn't get the words out. Don't hurt her!, he thought feverishly. "Please" He pleaded. "Sh-she's-" he tried. She's done nothing to deserve your wrath but take care of me.

[Hades]

There it was. Hades paused, holding perfectly still. Bits of flame flickered around his shoulders, the smoky tendrils curling toward the ceiling. The name had been shouted, burst, wrenched from his servant. Hades straightened as Panic kept stuttering. He brushed ash real and imagined off his suit. Panic kept right on stuttering, and Hades was almost impressed.

"Nothing?" he repeated, arching a brow. "Except somehow earned your love, and made you think that you're stuck here. Somehow this Della loves you, eh? Got your own magical romance thing going on here. Panic," he spread his arms, smiling, "you know I'm a big fan of love. You know what? I'm gonna have a little chat with Della sometime. Just her and me. Sit down, heart to heart, smooze, gossip, maybe, hey, we talk about our favorite little demonling."

Hades nodded again, before looking around. 'oh, and Panic? Feel I should remind you of one teensy, tiny, little detail that seems to have slipped your mind at some point," he blinked, not his eyes, but his entire body seemed to simply exist one place, then another, and that second was right in front of Panic, looming over him. For a second, Hades pushed his full power, struggling against Trenale's natural magic, potentially causing enough of a ripple to be felt by sensitives. His next words hissed out Sibilant: "I OWN you," and he placed a burning hand to Panic's shoulder.

[Panic]

Panic could do nothing but shake his head at various times during Hades speech. He didn't say that she loved him, only that he loved her. Sure she'd said it and he may have believed it at one time, but it had been ten years. For most immortals this would be nothing, but it had been a very long ten years for Panic. He had spent centuries with Hades before Avalon, before Tintagel. He had spent years and years serving without question. It was hard and terrifying work, but Panic knew nothing else. Then he got taken away to school and suddenly there was life outside of Hades. Suddenly all of Hades plans didn't seem all that amazing. Suddenly there were people that cared about who he was more than what he could do for them. Thus that little flame inside him was born and, no matter how hard Hades tried, he couldn't quite put it back out again. Here, however, he may have a better shot. Particularly if he went after Della.

What would he say to her? Would he try and convince her to not love him? That was fine, Panic had been trying to do that himself. However, Panic's mind raced with horrific visions of what Hades might do to her. He knew every torture the god was capable of and he was certain Della couldn't survive about 90% of them. He had her name. That was all he needed. He could find her anytime he liked now. How could he have done this? He knew he was worthless, but he had never felt so utterly guilty in his whole long life. Letting down Hades was one thing, but letting down Della was like setting the tumbling into darkness. What had he done, what had he done...

He kept shaking his head to no effect until Hades began to flicker and move. Panic sprawled his hands out against the wall and turned his head to the side just in time for Hades to appear over him. He screamed in pain as his hand came down on his shoulder. It burned through the fabric in seconds and went on to bubble and blister his skin. The fire branded his flesh, reminding him of who he belonged to as much as the words shouted into his face.

Finally his body had had enough, it couldn't do anything but try to survive by any means possible. He shifted into the form of a mink, hoping the mere drop in side was enough to get Hades hand off him. There was a batch of fur missing on his back where angry red skin showed. He curled up into a ball and tried to disappear. He didn't want to be here anymore. He did want to be anywhere. He wanted everything to end.

[Hades]

The flesh bubbled for a moment, and for a moment, Hades relished it. His eyes flashed, seeing his own pain in the red bursts, feeling his anger lashing out, scorching the creature before him. Oh, how easy it was to pour all his frustration, all his anger, out into this pathetic little wretch. listen to the scream, smell the flesh.

Then a drop. Hades let it happen, stepping back, actually moving at a normal speed. He saw the curled up form beneath him, and he all but sneered. "Remember that next time you're thinking about standing up to me," he said, nodding toward the flesh. "You don't get a say in who you are, Panic. Or in what you do. Capiche? You were mine from the start. But hey, let me make you a little deal, hmm?"

Hades knelt, looking at the quivering mess on the floor. "I'll let you keep your little Della around. IN fact, I'm going to even offer her a chance to make a deal with us. You'll like that, right? Have someone who you love around for a while. Maybe you guys can even have a nice happily ever after. Build a white picket fence. Get a few little half-breed rugrats chewing at their toes. Some real cozy stuff. But that? That only happens if you stick with my plan, if she sticks with the plan. Because if either of you think of going against the plan, if you stop me from getting what I deserve." Hades rose, turning.

"Well, hey, souls are remarkably durable, right?"

[Panic]

Soft little squeaks issued from Panic’s new body without permission as he trembled viciously. He shook so much that his bones rattled and ached. His burned skin continued to bubble and burn even now that the fire had stopped. Blisters formed as his skin tried to fathom how it might heal from the heinous attack. Panic rubbed his paws on his face, trying to keep his eyes covered at all times, but the shaking kept making them slip down his nose. This sad exercise continued until Hades mentioned a deal.

A deal? Panic hadn’t been hoping for any sort of deal. This was a punishment, not a negotiation. Panic didn’t often receive the privilege of making a deal with Hades. What purpose did Hades have in making a deal with him anyhow? Panic listened to him without the incentive of some sort of deal. Still Panic perked up a little, his paws slowly revealing his beady little eyes.

Panic listened intently to the rules of the game. He had heard Hades make so many deals it was easy to see the catches and deeper meanings, but Panic wasn’t in a state to comprehend them. He painted a picture where he and Della could be together. In comparison to the fact that he was sure just moments ago that he was going to kill her, this was like Saturnalia. Questions revolving around why Hades would be doing this banged around Panic’s skull, but the dream was so very sweet, he shoved them in a corner. Della. For a long as she lived. Sure, they’d be in the underworld, but they’d be safer there than the outside world anyhow. Despite the fact that Hades was there, it was almost tolerable when Persephone was around and Della would bring a new light to the place. The underworld was not just a place to keep people in, but to keep people out as well. If Hades promised to keep them safe, they would be. Even the twice born Dionysus made it to adulthood thanks to the protection of Hades.

Panic felt a cold shiver down his spine when Hades made his final threat. He had been reasoning to himself like he had a choice in the matter anyhow. Della’s life depended on them following Hades orders. There was no negotiation. This was simply another way of giving another order that Panic had to follow. And follow, he would. With great effort, his head rose toward his master. His nose twitched and wiggled in the air nervously. Slowly, he bowed his head in acknowledgment, in agreement with Hades words.

[Hades]

The deal hung in the air for just a moment. Almost long enough for Hades to lift his arm up, to start counting down. He held off on the motion for just a moment: Panic had seen this often enough to know that there was an expiration date on something like this. The demon would also know that despite his bluster, Hades did have a bit of a soft spot for doomed romances. Hence why so many of the people who actually escaped the Underworld did so through the powers of love.

A nod. "Then we got a deal,' Hades said, flashing a smile. "And I gotta conversation to attend to. Don't worry, I"ll see myself out."

He actually strode out of the door, slamming it shut behind him as he went, leaving Panic to sit alone in the devastation.