DEIMOS AND PROFESSOR P
Deimos really loathed being in the presences of the Professor. Every passing second spent alongside the professor felt like an eternity to him. The man had an aversion for minor gods, he always thought his time was only worth the major gods, only because of the atrocity Zeus inflicted on him. The Professor was one of the major Titans; he was a fortunate one too at that. After Hercules released him from Zeus' curse, he fled from Mountain Olympus to Earth. The titan then assumed the form of man, sought out work and faded from the concerning mind of the gods. He never forgot, he never forgave, he waited patiently for his opportune moment to have his revenge, and now this was it.
Deimos bled out badly, his unfortunate encounter with Hades and Thanatos almost caused him his life. Phobos on the other hand was sent on a journey to Tartarus. The god of terror felt a crater had been blasted in him. The loss of his brother seemed so unfair and unjust in his eyes. They were resurrected a week ago, given a simple mission and they both failed. The newly found resolve in Deimos' heart was hardened like titanium, revenge was a dish best served cold and Hades would never see it coming.
Deimos sat in the afternoon sun, he watched the Professor sip his coffee whilst busily reading his book. Forty-five minutes had already swung by drastically, and Deimos was still silent. He knew better than to interrupt the Professor during his break. The coffee shop seemed to be suspiciously vacant every time the Professor was on break. Deimos didn't know the occupation of the Professor, only his breaks and he dared not ask.
Deimos was sweating profusely, his face was colourless, not that it changed his looks in anyway. His blood oozed out slowly into his armour, the pain was so intense he could feel the god of death's eyes prying on him, calling to him. Deimos only wished Professor P, as he was famously known would render his help much sooner, instead of focusing so much on his black book.
The door to the coffee shop opened, an old man in grey suit and well-polished brown leather shoes walked in.
Deimos noticed the striking resemblance to the Professor, the only difference between both men was the presence of hair. The Professor was bald, with a dashing reflective forehead. The old man possessed grey hair, neatly combed back and damp like Steven Seagal. The man walked straight to Deimos, and handed him a packet of grapes. They were blood red in colour, fluid like mercury and appealed to Deimos very much.
"Eat" Professor P ordered.
He did not maintain any eye contact with Deimos yet the fact that he uttered a word during his break compelled Deimos to munch down the grapes. At first it tasted sweet, coursing down his tongue a sudden bitter taste like bile began evading his mouth, he was in pain as the now digesting fluid was being absorbed. He dared not scream in front of the Professor, the man in suit just watched him writhe in silence. Deimos' pain equalled that of a thousand screws being drilled into his body. His only motivation not to scream was the pain the professor would inflict on him if he broke the silence. All minor gods revered and feared the professor, they knew of his tales, his pain, his torturer, and Deimos did not want to be a victim of the Professor. After what seemed to be an eternity in the pits of Tartarus the pain finally subsided.
Deimos felt renewed, reborn as he put it in his mind. The wound Hades struck on him disappeared, his skin felt different in fact everything about his physical form was different. He bit his newly formed lips for certainty, he almost chuckled, his hand was still attached to the hilt of his sword yet mysteriously he managed to detach it and stare right at it 'Five fingers' he thought, his skin looked like that of a normal human being, his eyes were deep blue like the ocean, he had short hair although shaggy. He was a transformed god; his power of terror was evolved.
The Professor kindly cleared his throat, closed his book and set it on the table. He folded his arm on the table with precision, leaned in closely at Deimos.
Deimos held his breath.
"Have you heard the story of Ixion" The Professor asked warmly.
Deimos nodded frightfully, the story of Ixion was a well-known tale. Zeus blasted Ixion with his powerful lightning bolt and bound him to a burning wheel that would spin forever. Unfortunately for Ixion, he fell in love with Hera. Zeus decided to test his loyalty by creating a duplicate of Hera. Ixion upon seeing an opportune moment slept with the goddess and impregnated her leading to the birth of the monster Centaurus.
"And the words he was forced to say" Professor P demanded,
Deimos remembered the words vividly "Repay your benefactor frequently with gentle favors in return" His voice trembled, and in that instance he knew another failure would not be tolerated.
"Do not fail me again"
The Professor remained impassive as he stood to his feet like a rising tower, his shadow loomed over Deimos casting the very terror he was known for. He picked up his book, placed it next to his chest. He walked away accompanied by the old man. Deimos let out sigh.