Episode 3: The Hero's Journey

Oooohkay, uh... Here's today's character, via https://randommer.io/random-cartoon-characters:

Welp, I've seen that movie. Not in 20 years at least, but I've seen it. I know the legend anyway— demigod son of Zeus who does a lot of hero shit. I can make this work.

The scenario, from https://writingexercises.co.uk/index.php:

Okay, here goes. Note, I'm not using the disney character, 'cause I like my money in my own pockets rather than those of some nameless entertainment lawyer. Anyway, I like what I came up with, and I hope you do, too:

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He was at a crossroads, and whatever path he chose, someone's life would be ruined as a result. He stood among the field of screaming beasts, his heart torn as it hadn't been since boyhood. Proceed, and he would complete his final task, restore his honor, and his wife, the mother of his sons, would be returned. All at the cost of the reputation and livelihood of a boy who had barely reached manhood. He wasn't sure what the word "hero" truly meant, but he didn't think this was included in the definition.

He stared across the hardpacked field as monstrosities flowed around him. Ahead, the dwelling place of the young man. Behind, a lonely life wracked with guilt for the fate of Megara, but the knowledge that the stranger would be safe, and that his discovery would save this world from uncountable torment.

Beside him, the gaunt man with the snake tattooed on his leg spoke. "Heracles, Son of Zeus, I ask you a final time," the man said. "Will you stay your hand?"

The man had been Heracles's guide in this strange, hellish landscape. He had seen the hero safely across the river, through the many circles, had procured Heracles a meal wrapped in flatbread, had sheltered him from the judgment of the realm's denizens. Now he made his request, and Heracles knew that it came from his heart. The man had sympathy for the boy, perhaps even love for him, and Heracles couldn't bear to know that he would disappoint this man.

He opened his mouth to give his reply, but before he could, one of the strange steel behemoths slowed, bleating its Locrian cry, its captive leaning toward Heracles from the cushioned seat and shouting, "get out of the street, asshole."

"Come," said Theseus. "We can make this decision just as well from the sidewalk."

They passed through the final circle, the one named Thomas Northwest, plunging their way through the monstrous things that Theseus had told him were chariots, but which had no horses and moved on their own like bulls. Together, they mounted the low platform where humans were meant to walk, where the realm's buildings, familiar stoneworks yet to a scale and of an appearance that was completely alien to Heracles, stood.

"There," Theseus pointed. Heracles followed his gaze to the gray and tan front of the dwelling, marked by its transparent entrance with the strange glyphs the locals used for language. "Hotel Zena," Theseus translated.

"And Cerberus is inside?"

"Mason McKenzie is inside."

"With Cerberus?"

Theseus sighed. "With the patent for a drug that significantly prolongs human life. A drug that he calls 'Cerberus', yes."

"Theseus," Heracles began, then caught the pleading look in his companion's eye. He forced himself to meet Theseus's gaze, to make his decision with the full emotional weight of betrayal on his conscience.

Theseus's eyes widened. "Don't," he said, then winced, doubling over, one hand clasping Heracles's shoulder for balance. Heracles caught his companion under the arm, easing him down to the paved stone ground. They knelt together, brothers in travel, now departing each other's company for the last time.

"I am sorry, my friend," said Heracles, as he slid free the knife from between Theseus's ribs. "I must save Megara. Thank you for showing me this far."

Theseus nodded, holding Heracles's gaze. "Room... 208," he choked out. Then his eyes took on an air of confusion. He coughed, twice. Then he was still.

Heracles dug in his purse for the strange coins Theseus had given him back in the realm of Virginia, at the start of their journey. He produced two of the large silver ones, called "quarter" by his dead friend. With care, he closed Theseus's eyes, placing a coin over each.

Then he stood, crossing to the large stone planter to the left of the dwelling's door. He wiped his knife on the ferns found there (false ferns, he discovered, like everything else in this underworld hellscape), then sheathed his blade again and entered Hotel Zena, intent on finding room 208 and stealing the work of a young man who had discovered how to block the gates of hell.

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Oooooooooooooh

I was originally thinking of setting it in New York, because a cabbie screaming to get out of the street would be perfect. When I got to the line describing Heracles's journey though, I really wanted to reference circles of hell, and as far as I know, NYC is just one big grid. DC, on the other hand, is a spider's web of circles and cross streets, its geography impossible to remember if you haven't grown up there. So I went on google maps, found a hotel on a circle, and that gave us our setting— Thomas Circle NW, in front of 1155 14th St NW, Washington, DC, 20005. I do hope the proprietors of Hotel Zena don't mind.

Until next time!