Amaterasu

As soon as the timer reached it's end and the Games began, Amaterasu sent out her three doubles. 

"You, kill people," Amaterasu ordered the clone dressed as a samurai.  "You," she turned to a clone dressed as a ninja, "make sure people don't kill me." 

The two bowed silently to her and then set out to do what they were told. Samurai Amaterasu pulled out a katana made entirely from gleaming sunlight and immediately severed Balder's head. 

"What about me, Amaterasu?" the remaining double was dressed in a simple yet elegant flowered kimono. She watched her maker with wide, admiring eyes. 

"Keep my self-esteem up, duh," Amaterasu sighed. 

The complimentary double stood up straighter before gasping and exclaiming loudly, "Wow, Amaterasu! That lip color accentuates the natural curve of your lips beautifully!" 

Amaterasu smiled haughtily. "Continue." 

"You're hair is enough to make any goddess jealous!" 

Amaterasu walked calmly through the bloodshed, passing the bodies of Loki and Ko'lhamana without a second glance. 

She barely broke a sweat, as everytime someone charged at her one of her combat doubles took them out first. 

"Wow, Amaterasu, is there no match for your greatness?" Complimentary questioned cheerfully.

"There is not," Amaterasu responded. "I'm just so amazing." 

Her doubles quickly dispatched Athena. 

"Okay," Amaterasu announced, clapping to call her doubles' attention. "I'm bored with killing. We're now going to find a safe place to hide, and then Defense and Attack will give me a pedicure while Complimentary massages my shoulders and tells me how great I look in this dress-- got it?" 

"Yes Amaterasu!" the cloned chanted. 

Amaterasu raised her arms. "Carry me now," she commanded with a gentle yawn. 

Two of the Amaterasu's immediately lifted their leader and carried her into the forest. 

"I wonder if Camazots is watching-- oh, of course he is. He's probably worried sick, the poor dear." She blew a kiss toward the sky. "Get a haircut while I'm gone, darling! And maybe leave the lipstick to me, besides, black is so last year!" 

Somewhere outside the arena, Camazots sighed heavily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jade

The world spins. I clench my hand around my frappucino, and reach out for the telephone pole next to me. I am about to faint, on an abandoned street in the middle of the night, with nobody around. Fuck. It’s like I’m asking to get raped. I stagger towards the pole and clench my hand around it. I knew Starbucks at midnight was a bad idea. But it wasn’t as bad as taking that shortcut back. And now I will probably die because of that. As I watch the world go gray, fifty shades of it to be precise, I feel my drink spill out onto my jeans. And those were new! I go down, my head hitting the ground hard. Then the world shifts from gray to black.

When I wake up again, my first thought is not a normal one. It’s not “Where the hell am I?” like most normal people. And it’s not “How do I get out of here?” either. It’s “What happened to my Starbucks?” I may not be a stereotypical white girl, but I do love me some good coffee. And the weirdest part is that I’m wearing a completely different outfit. This means that somebody has touched me in… I shudder just thinking about it. But I push that thought out of my mind and sit up.

The area I am in is a forest. It is full of trees and other foliage, and appears to be mostly dark. The branches of some of the plants near me intertwine way above my head. I recognize some of them from when I have gone to other places to shoot videos, and I am pretty sure that all of them are from North America. So I’m in some North American forest. Okay. But why?

Just as I think this, I notice the note on the ground. It is a single sheet of weathered paper, with loopy handwriting on it. I pick it up and begin to read.

“Dear Jade,” it says. “Welcome to Ragnarok. You have accepted our invitation and are now entered in the Game.” Wait, what? I assume this note is from Camazotz. But when he talked about a test for ultimate power, I thought that it would be like an actual test, instead of whatever the fuck this is. I keep reading. “This is the Forest Primeval. It is one of three arenas that we will be using for the testing. As you progress through the tasks, your location will change. Sometimes, you will be in a setting known as the Great Metropolis, and others the Ruins of Civilization. In each one, you will fight for survival. Because if you are eliminated here, that will mean your death. The stakes are high. But that is the price of power. A few people must die so that the rest can survive. If you lose, your sacrifice was honorable. But if you win, kudos to you. This is Ragnarok. There will be one survivor. And you must fight to make sure that it is you.” I take this all in. A fight to the death? That was not at all what I thought I signed up for. But what the hell? I can win this. I know I can. I look back to the paper to see if there is anything left, and there isn’t much. Only a dramatic signature at the bottom that reads, “The Fates.” 

Just as I read this, I hear a heart-wrenching scream coming from the forest near me. Shit. I run towards it, instead of away like I probably should. The tree branches whip into my face, leaving tiny cuts all over. But I ignore the pain, and keep running towards where the scream came from. 

When I finally reach the spot, I see a body. The body of Eros Valencia. What the fuck is he doing here? Why would Eros sign up for this? I mean, yes, I know. He’s a literal sex god. But he’s kind of ditzy, and he doesn’t really have any powers. Blinding charisma? Doesn’t do much against battle magic. But I see no blood on him. Only a pair of headphones in his ears.

I walk over to him to make sure he is dead, and yes. He is not breathing. But what could have done that to him? There is nothing around except the headphones and an iPod, from which music is playing at full blast. It’s so loud it’s giving me a headache. But I walk over to examine it, and all the pieces fall together. 

It’s Beyoncé. That’s what’s playing. That must be what killed him. I remember reading something about a Beyoncé-related religion, where they believe that she is a goddess, and her music can do anything. So maybe they were right. Beyoncé can kill. Or at least her music, which some may consider a godly weapon. Deadly to gods, but it doesn’t do anything to humans. Death by Beyoncé. Completely feasible. 

But why is a Beyoncé song in here if Beyoncé herself isn’t? I mean, not that she could have won. And if she thought she could… Bitch, please. I could take Beyoncé any day of the week. She isn’t even that badass. I am totally badass, on the other hand. I’m surprised that anyone else even signed up if they heard I did. But whatever. Power makes people do crazy things, like going up against me. 

I leave the iPod with Eros’s body, hoping that somebody else might fall into the trap he did. And then I set out to find something I can use to survive. 

It takes me about ten minutes until I reach another clearing. This one seems to be at the crest of a hill, and from the top of it I can see a lot of the rest of the forest. I am admiring the view, which might explain the fact that I trip over another dead body. 

This time, it is Chaos, but her body is so insubstantial that I can barely see the outline of her figure. Her hair shines in the moonlight, and the soft silver light seems to erase some of her wrinkles. She looks younger in death than I have ever seen her. She seems to be at peace, except for the fact that there is a slit in her neck from which gold ichor is seeping from. Chaos was a friend, even though I have not seen her in years. So her death deeply saddens me, even though I know that it would have had to happen if I were to gain the massive amounts of power promised to me. Even so, I regret her loss. But I can at least make it so she is at peace. I close her eyes, and mop up the ichor with some leaves I found. I lay her in a comfortable position, and leave her body. Goodbye, Chaos. The world will miss you dearly. 

It is then that I notice a small trail of blood leading into the forest. It must be Chaos’s killer. This means that I can get revenge for my fallen friend. And I am completely prepared to.

I follow the tracks right until they lead into a tree, where they go no farther. I look up and am shocked by who I see. Sterculius, with a trident in his hand, ready to pounce. “Oh shit.” I let it slip out without thinking. 

“Oh, yeah. You would make that joke, wouldn’t you? Been there, heard that. You’re not original. I know you’re still mad at me, but you didn’t have to stoop so low.” He seems insulted by my accidental pun, and I don’t blame him.

“Oh, be quiet. I could have made so many more jokes. Like, ‘Hey, Sterculius, are you drunk? You seem pretty shitfaced.’ There are endless jokes. You just got lucky that was the first one I could think of.” I smile at him, all the while thinking about how I would kill him.

“Well, then. The one about being shitfaced is a new one. Pretty good, Jade. I’d forgot how funny you could be.”

And I’d forgotten how bitchy you could be, I think. But I don’t say it out loud, in case he gets mad.  “So, did you kill Chaos back there? I always hated her. Pretty nice work.” I’m trying to get him to admit to her killing, since I don’t really want to kill Sterculius. It may be hard to admit, but I still have feelings for him.

It was years ago. Centuries, actually. And it was a quick fling, at the very start of the Roman Empire. But I fell in love. And when gods fall in love, they fall hard. Granted, he didn’t feel the same way, he was just another horny teenage god looking for someone to screw. But I was in love. And still am to this day. I can still remember every word of the last conversation we had. I try and drown out the pain with drinking and drugs, but it is still there. Killing him would leave me scarred forever, but it might also free me from his memory. Love never fades, but at least I wouldn’t have to watch him do the same thing to others. 

My trip down memory lane is interrupted by his sweet voice. “Yeah, I killed her. Chaos and I, we were together. But just before this, she broke up with me. And the next time she sees me, she tries to kill me. Just goes to show, huh? Although I am kind of glad to be rid of her, I heard she used to be quite the slut.” And that is it. He’s crossed the line. Whatever feelings I have had for him, they are down the drain. I leap for him, and the battle is on. 

He doesn’t expect me to do this, so I catch him off guard. He falls out of the tree and onto the ground, where we start to wrestle. “Just like old times, huh? You grabbing at me, trying to rip my clothes off. You miss me don’t you?” My answer is a deep scratch across the face with my sharp nails. I make another grab at the trident, and this time I get it. I wrench it out of his grip, and plunge it into his stomach. Poseidon may not be here, but his weapon is. And his weapon will be the downfall of the crappiest god I’ve ever met. I push the trident in farther and farther, until it sticks out his other side. I watch the life fade from his eyes. My last words to him are short and sweet.

“I thought I loved you.”

He dies at my feet, and I don’t care. I am done. Done with his playing people. And now the world is rid of a menace. He called Chaos a slut? He’s more of a whore than her. Or at least he was. Now he can’t betray anyone ever again. 

There is another scream, this time back by the hill. I am more wary, and keep my trident at the ready. The scream sounds female, and some of the goddesses in here can be very cunning. As I walk back up the top of the hill, I can see where the scream is coming from. Bastet. 

She has fallen in a river that was near the hill, and it seems that she cannot get out. Why is she having so much trouble with this? Then I remember. Water is her weakness. And she is drowning. 

She screams for my help the second she notices me. But I do not help her. She would only get in the way of my rise to power, and I need this. I know I can make the world better. Her, on the other hand? She would probably just turn it into a big ball of yarn and chase it around the solar system. So I decide to let her drown.  But after a few minutes, she hasn’t. She is still crying out in pain, but somehow staying afloat. And she isn’t getting out of that river, either. So I decide to put her out of her misery. I get close to the edge, and hold the trident out like she should grab it. But when she goes for it, I stab her through the heart. 

Her body sinks, since the lungs have been punctured. In death, she looks even more ferocious than in life. But she can’t attack me now. She is dead. I have killed her. I have killed two gods today. I am a murderer on a completely different level now. But it will be worth it. The world will be a better place, all thanks to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ko'lhamana

So the first thing that happens is I get shot. It’s a clean shot, straight through, nothing major, but it stings like a mother.

The Valkyrie decides to swing the gun like a club and clock me with it. I fall backwards to avoid it, and she springs on me. We struggle over the gun until finally I manage to smack her in the face. It sets her back a split second, and I roll us over, exchanging positions with her. The gun gets knocked away, and I seize her head in my hands, twist it sharply, and then she’s down for the count.

I’m panting, winded from the struggle. But I’m alive. “Fabulous.” I get to my feet and hiss in pain. Oh, but I’m shot. I lean down and rip off a bit of her shirt to bind my side with. I need water to wash it.

I pick up the gun, which has the name “Deerslayer” carved into the wooden grip and start my trek through the trees.

There’s a noise from above—a creaking branch. I take aim and fire, and a body falls from the sky. Not bad for someone who hasn’t held a firearm since a wonderfully gay production of ‘Annie Get Your Gun’ several years back.

I begin to remember myself as I creep downhill, barely stirring the fallen leaves, not snapping a single twig. This is my land, the earth that I am made of. My people are this forest, its roots. I have an advantage here, I can feel it. I belong here. If this is the whole arena, I’m decidedly not worried about it.

There’s a body pinned to a tree with a claymore sticking out of her chest. I don’t investigate, but just pass on by to the water. It’s difficult to bend, so I set the gun on a rock and wade out into the water to cleanse the wound.

I’m tackled from behind and I go under. There’s a fit of splashing and then I’m wrestling for a spear. I swipe the man’s feet out from under him and run him through. The current carries him off. 

“Be at peace,” I murmur, raising a hand in a farewell gesture. He deserves my respect; he only wanted to live, like me, and even here on my home turf, I may meet the same fate—and if I should, I know I’ll see him in the Afterlife and I don’t want it to be awkward. I hate awkward parties.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yemeya

Day 1.  The moments leading up to the forest seemed to fade the second her feet hit the ground.  There was a certain ancient silence embedded in every tree that gave her the sensation that she'd always been there, that everything else was merely her imagination trying to escape the eerily peaceful forest.  She shook this sensation away immediately.  It's just a stupid forest, it's the time travel getting to you.  Come on, Yemeya you have to hold yourself together… Nyx gracefully emerged from behind a tree, followed by the childish summersault of Persephone.  Yemeya would have much preferred to work alone, yet at the same time, she couldn't help but feel comfort in just knowing that they were there.  The three goddesses stared at each other for a moment, trying to determine whether their pact of friendship was still standing now that the games had actually become a reality.  “Well…here we are.”  Persephone chirped, brushing the leaves from her dress, “this doesn't seem so bad.”

“Just wait.”  Nyx said with a cautious scan of the forest.  “Just wait.”

“I have no problem with waiting,” Yemeya broke the unsettling silence, “but let's do it somewhere else.  We're vulnerable here.”

Nyx nodded, and the two pale figures began carefully making their way through the woods, followed soon by Persephone, not quite as carefully.

The whole aspect of the forest changed when she found the lake.  She had been reunited her power, her life source, nothing could stand in her way now.  She felt the cool, clean water surge through every fiber of her being, healing her, making her whole again.  She felt the confidence she had known when she was worshipped by thousands, and the notion crept into her mind that she might be able to win this thing after all.  

“Look out!” Persephone's warning followed the descent of a poorly thrown spear, apparently meant for Yemeya's head.  Without thinking, she plucked it from the soft ground and returned it to its owner, with considerably better accuracy.  The perpetrator fell before Yemeya fully comprehended what had happened.

“Where did that come from?” Nyx asked.

“From a long time ago.”  Yemeya approached the victim, only to find that Persephone had beaten her to it.  She was weeping.

“Aphrodite.”  She said absent-mindedly.  “She was just scared.  Just like we are.”  Her voice changed.  “Serves her right, stupid klutz.”

Yemeya clenched her jaw tightly, this is wrong.  Just then, she felt the leaves beneath her wind themselves around her ankles.  Her instinct for survival overcame her once more.  She ran back towards the lake, vines and ferns snagging and tearing at her skin with what seemed to be life of their own.  She dove into the lake, feeling the power swell through her being once more.  She balanced effortlessly on the glass-like surface of the water, waiting for her new foe to attack once more, but this time in her domain.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure dash silently in the trees above her.  As if it were an extension of her body, she sent a geyser of water into the treetops, knocking the strange figure to the forest floor.  She approached him, a train of water following her.  A scrawny mess of a man, coughing up water, kneeled at her feet.  “Finish him!”  Nyx shouted from where she had been watching.  

Yemeya gathered water in the palm of her hand, prepared to kill him, but hesitated.  “You could join us.”

“Then what?”  The impish man coughed up the last of the water.

“What?”

“Let's say we win…then what?  Only one god gets out of here alive.  Only one.”  His words made the situation seem suddenly more real.  She stood, in shock, for a moment.  She didn't want to have to kill anyone, at least, not everyone, but she didn't want to be killed either.  The man got to his feet, appearing still to be weak, but suddenly sent branches, as sharp as knives, flying towards Yemeya's face.  She ducked just in time, almost simultaneously hurling what was left of her water at him.  It hit him, but she knew it could never kill him.  Suddenly remembering Nyx and Persephone, she headed back towards the lake.  

“Fire.”  Nyx said urgently.  “We need fire.”

“No!”  She knows fire will kill me too, right?  Of course she does, she's not stupid.  Maybe…no, she wouldn't do that.  Then again…two birds with one stone…  

“Yemeya.  That's the Erlking, fire is the only thing that will kill him.  You have to trust me, we'll be long gone by the time it spreads.”

Trust her?!  I barely know her!  The Erlking was recruiting every tree, every branch, to do his deadly bidding.  Oh, what choice do I have?  “Okay.”  The instant the word left her mouth, the entire forest went black.  The only things visible were the small sparks made by Persehone (her more appealing side had taken over now).  Yemeya stood, fighting the urge to run as far away as she could.  Soon, the forest floor was a carpet of flames, and the screams of the Erlking echoed through the pitch blakness.  “Nyx?”  The flames began to surround her.  “Nyx!”  She was almost about to give into her instinct to run, when daylight returned to the forest.

“All right,” Nyx called, “follow me.”  The three goddesses ran through the forest, chased by the hungry flames.  “Looks like we chased some out some cockroaches.”  Nyx called, gesturing towards several, equally frightened figures running from the flames.  One of the figures fell to the ground.  Skadi, goddess of…winter, or something.  Her slender, pale figure was soon engulfed by the angry inferno, and her shrill, blood-wrenching scream joined the crackling of the dying forest.  Yemeya knew that if Skadi's powers had failed, it was just a matter of time before hers were too.

“We need to get to water!”  She felt her voice grow frail and hoarse.  “I need…” the trees began to circle around her, surrounding her.  The forest floor shook beneath her.  She fell.  She could see the blurry interpretations of Nyx and Persephone, their mouths were moving, but she heard nothing.  She could feel the dry heat approaching her from behind, threatening to swallow her along with half the forest.  She was about to give into the darkness that called to her when a third, larger figure appeared.  She was lifted into the air.  Her whole body throbbed.  She felt the water within her boil and evaporate from the intense heat.  It's just as good a time to die as any other.  She was suddenly surrounded by water.  Someone had saved her life.

It was dark when she awoke.  The sounds of the forest had transformed into their ghostlike counterparts.  Persephone was sleeping, but Nyx was more alive than ever, not surprisingly.  Once the day's happenings had articulated themselves in her head, she sat up, a little too quickly.  Ugh!  My head!  

“Oh, you're up.”  Nyx said in a cheerful tone that didn't quite suit her.  “How do you feel?”

“Who was he?”

“What's that?  You feel great?  Oh good!  I feel fine too, thanks for asking.”

I hate talking.  “Who was he?!”

Nyx began to explain, but was interrupted by an overwhelmingly dark, rich masculine voice, “Eros Valencia.”  Yemeya could see how his voice could be found intriguing by some, but all she could think was you sound like how I feel after eating way too much chocolate.  “It took guts starting that fire back there, especially for a water goddess” His voice dropped almost three octaves.  “I like that.” 

“First of all,” Yemeya struggled to her feet, “it's moon goddess.  Second of all,” wait, what was my second of all?  “Look, we never asked for your help.”

“No, you were kind-of a little too unconscious and close to death to ask for anything, so I just assumed you'd be grateful.  I beg your pardon, oh great and powerful moon goddess.”  He bowed sarcastically. 

“Oh.  We're grateful.”  Nyx refereed the conversation.  “Yemeya, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yemeya!  So that's who's life I had the pleasure of saving.”  I think I might throw up.  Nyx gave him a forced smile and dragged Yemeya to the privacy of a nearby bush.

“When do we kill him?”  Yemeya sneered in his general direction.

“What?!”  Nyx whisper/shouted.  “He did save your life, you know, and I think he'd make a good ally.”

“Oh.  Great, why don't we just recruit all of the gods?  Then we can have an 18-way tie.  Game over!”  

“14-way, actually.”  Nyx was suddenly reverent.

“What?”

“They announced the dead at sunset, while you were sleeping.  Skadi and…Chaos were killed in the fire.  I don't know about the other two.”

Yemeya was suddenly ashamed of herself.  This was real.  Gods were dying.  “Do you really think he can be trusted?”

“Don't let his personality fool you.  He was just as scared as we were in that fire, but he stopped and helped us carry you just the same.”

“Okay.  But, I'm not letting my guard down until he gives me a damn good reason.”

“Don't worry, he will.”  She said with an almost mischievous smile.  Am I missing something here?

When they emerged from the foliage, Yemeya noticed that the sun was beginning to rise. Smoke still hung in the distant horizon, serving as a unnerving reminder of the previous day's events.  The forest was beginning to come to life again…along with its deadly visitors. Day 2.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Val

The arena is dark. I knew it was coming. But I never thought it would be so soon. It happened almost as soon as I replied. I am both elated and terrified. I am in Ragnarok. 

I feel for my pocket, and find that the notebook and pen that were in there are still. Good. I’m going to need to take notes. Which is exactly what I do when I pull it out.

‘Ragnarok, day one,’ I write. ‘Whisked away to a forest, seems to be in North America. Dense foliage, during the night. Time seems to be different here.’ I close my journal and tuck it back away. I will have more time to write later, but now I need to experience as much as I can. And stay, alive, of course. 

The forest is deep, and it takes me a while to make any sort of noticeable progress. But as I go on, the trees seem to change. They become farther apart, and there are fewer bushes. I feel like I am coming up on a clearing, based on these observations, and I am soon proven to be correct… Somewhat.

When I thought of the clearing, I was thinking of something peaceful. And this scene is not at all peaceful. Clearings aren’t supposed to be full of blood, are they? 

The trees are splattered with gold like a Jackson Pollock painting. Bodies are strewn everywhere. There are three dead people here. And I’ve barely been here. This will make a great book. 

The ichor on the trees is much shinier than I thought it would be, and the bodies look more disturbing the closer I get. One, which I think is Ko’lhamana, is posed awkwardly, his limbs thrown everywhere. If he was alive, his arms and legs would definitely be broken. And his head is unnaturally tilted. There is a wine bottle next to him covered in his blood. Dionysus must have killed him. Death by alcohol. But where is he? He couldn’t have done all of his, could he? 

And I don’t have to look far. His body lays near the other, and there are three circular holes ion his chest. Which means that Posideon’s trident is here. And somebody has killed with it.

The last body is older. The blood has dried, and it looks more peaceful. The only spot where there actually is ichor is the corner of his eye. Eros Valencia is dead. 

I don’t know how he died, but it seems that something horrible must have happened. There is a look of horror on his face, and I don’t know what would do that to him. All I see is an iPod, which couldn’t do much. Whatever killed him must have tremendous power. Power that I can only hope doesn’t find me. 

I stop to jot down some notes about the scene. This is something I would definitely want to put in my book if I survive. I detail exactly what the scene looks like, and how it appears the people met their ends. I can already feel that this will be a bestseller. 

I am almost done with my notes when I hear a voice behind my ear. “What you got there, darlin?” He has a subtle twang in his voice, which is husky as well. I recognize it, even though he might not remember me. Apollo Zera. 

I turn around slowly. “Well, Apollo. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, Val. You don’t seem the violent type to me.”

“Well, I’m here for research. I’m writing a book and this could be an interesting premise. How about you? You don’t seem the type to risk your skin for anything.” 

“Oh, you know. The whole ultimate power thing really lured me in. I can’t resist a good world domination attempt. And besides, I need to spread my poetry throughout the world. I could become a celebrity.” 

“Oh, you write poetry? Well, go on. Let’s hear some.” I do this to distract him, since I have spotted a scythe hanging from a tree right behind him. As I read the word engraved on the hilt, I realize what it is. The scythe of Cronus. I attempt to make a move past him, pretending to reach for my pen.

“I once was a young lad fair- What are you doing?” 

“Oh, just grabbing my pen. Keep going. It’s great so far.” 

“Alright. Here I go.” He clears his throat. “I once was a young lad fair, with quite fantastic hair, at which people did stare, when I went anywhere. It was very-“ He sees that I have grabbed the scythe, and stops immediately. “What are you doing?” I raise the scythe to behead him “No, you can’t! I must spread my poetry throughout the world! Everybody must hear it! Don’t do this to me!”

“Nobody wants to hear about your fucking hair.” And with that, I chop his head off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermaphroditus

EATEN BY FENRIS-WOLF