600 Strike // The Final Man To Die AU (by @bigidiotenergytm )
Content Contains: Talk of Trauma, Traumatic Injury, Foreshadowing, EPIC: The Musical, Descriptions of Violence, Odysseus, Poseidon, Bloodbath (Literal), Torture, Scene Recreation, 600 Strike.
Word Count: 721
"You're going to call off that storm." The voice wavered with rage that teemed beneath the cold and expressionless facade.
"Or what? You can't kill me!" Exasperated, but cocky, Poseidon's voice seemed to snarl with mockery.
"Exactly…" and as Odysseus lifted the trident, the god's eyes widened with realization.
"Wait. Wait!"
The god groaned in agony as the trident pierced flesh, the ichor of a god warm around the metal of the divine weapon that commanded the seas to one's will. As the tide crashed against the rock they rested upon, and Poseidon's body began to heal around it, the trident was ripped from his body, the lungs of the divine wheezing as his body desperately tried to heal again, blood gushing into the air as it followed the metal like a magnet.
"How does it feel to be helpless?"
As he tried to defend his body, the trident pierced through his hand, pushing into his shoulder.
"How does it feel to know pain?"
The metal pulled from his body, and before he could think, Poseidon had turned, desperately trying to crawl into the recedes of the ocean.
"I watched my friends die in horror," the god's screams came in time with the man's words as he felt the trident pierce his lower spine, incapacitating the god.
"Crying as they were all slain! I heard their final moments," his shoulder blades screamed with burning pain as the weapon, now warm with ichor, scraped against his bones as it went in.
"Calling their captain in vain!" He wheezed as it pulled from his body, ichor drooling down his body as he tried to lift himself, gold dripping onto the rock.
"Look what you turned me into!" Piercing through his spine again, Poseidon's vision grew bleary as his hair was yanked back, forced to look at Odysseus with pain in his eyes.
"Look what we've become!"
"Enough," the god wheezed, more desperately than he'd ever thought himself.
"All of the pain that I've been through!"
"Stop!" His voice was raw with pain, the golden blood of a god splattered on every corner of the stone.
"Haven't I suffered enough?"
"Stop!" His cries filled the air before he felt the trident pierce his throat, a gurgle bubbling in his mouth as ichor pooled and drooled from his jowls.
"You didn't stop when I begged you! Told me to close my heart! You," their voices laced as the trident ripped from him, giving him just enough room to breathe.
"Said the world the world was dark!"
"Monster!" The word tore itself from the depths of Poseidon's mind, spitting up ichor in his desperation to survive.
Turned over onto his back to face the beast, the god's eyes widened as he saw the trident rise higher above Odysseus' head than any mortal man could muster.
"Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our—"
"Alright!" He croaked, flinching as the trident came down, opening his eyes again to see it only a moment from his face.
"Please…" his voice wheezed, barely above a whisper.
As the trident fell to the stone beside the god, Poseidon still couldn't help but jump and flinch as his body desperately pooled with ichor to heal his wounds.
The sky began to clear, revealing the damage. Water, still churning as it tried to settle, Odysseus drenched in ichor like a bath of Midas as the golden blood of the divine seeped into years' worth of scars.
Coughing as his mind reeled, Poseidon's words rang in the ensuing silence.
"After everything you've done… how will you sleep at night?" Raspy with pain, the sinking feeling of Odysseus' truth had yet to settle upon either of them.
"Next to my wife."
As the man made his way to the shores of Ithaca, Poseidon crawled to the water, cascading into the depths with his trident as he caught his breath, ichor pumping out of his lungs desperately as he sank to the depths of the Mariana trench to regain his strength.
A sinking feeling filled his heart, bottoming out in his stomach like a sickness as the salt of the sea stung and scraped against the wounds.
He'd lost so much ichor, and that man— that monster had bathed in it as if it were riches. Nobody had survived making a god bleed like that.
