Last Child of the Sea

Not Dead Yet? Where the Hades am I?

Months ago...

Jason gasped.

His eyes snapped open. Everywhere was white.

He blinked. He realised he didn't have his glasses. And short-sighted as he was, that would put him at a disadvantage in a fight. Still, he could see without them, he wasn't blind.

Jason shifted and sat upright. He looked around. Was he dead?

No, he wasn't dead. Thar much was clear. He hadn't been to the Underworld, but he did know that it wasn't sterilised white and they didn't have a thick glass wall to one side on the way to Hades' place.

"Relax, you're not dead," a voice called out to him. Jason whirled, hand instinctively reaching for his weapon, when he realised he no longer had Hera's gladius.

"The glass wall isn't for permanently caging you." The voice continued. It sounded vaguely familiar, for some strange reason, but at the same time he couldn't place how or why, much less who it belonged to.

"It's a precautionary measure for non-staff checkups," the unnamed speaker- Jason knew it was male- continued. "When we rescue kids, most of the time they're either totally unconscious or in shock. "Sometimes they lash out, attacking people, often caused by illusions, or they carry pathogens or powerful curses. It took us a while to make sure you didn't have anything, but no one took any chances."

Jason now realised he was in a bed; a hospital bed with pale grey-grey green cover, the only splash of colour around there. His hands flew to his back between his shoulder-blades.

Nothing. As if Caligula had never thrown a gladius between his shoulder-blades. As if Jason had never been shot with arrows in each limb from Caligula's pandai. As if it had all been some bad dream.

That made him instantly wary.

"Who are you?"

In response someone moved at the corner of the room. Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. He cursed himself for not noticing someone there.

"Call me Alex," the speaker was a tall young man. He was incredibly, even outstandingly handsome in a regal, striking way. He had a perfectly angular, well-defined and strongly chiselled face and features; his hair glinted like molten or beaten gold and his eyes were a dazzling shade of blue, so startling they could strike you dead. But this guy was no male-model, Jason could tell that much. Whatever or whoever he was, this Alex radiated cold, deadly, powerful strength, purpose and energy. He was built like a fighter; lean, yet strong and muscular. The way he stood, the way he held himself with more assurance, confidence and purpose (though no such arrogance- Jason still remembered Caligula) than even the most experienced soldiers in the legion or a US Navy Marine or general, spoke a lot to Jason. He stiffened, wondering if this guy was a threat, but nothing in his instincts told him he was.

But what grated him more than anything, as if he should know something which Jason was sure he didn't- was the strong sense of familiarity about him. And that struck Jason deep within his very core. As if his soul or every part of his DNA were screaming at him as if he should know this person.

Except that he didn't.

The speaker 'Alex', eyed Jason with an unreadable expression. Despite his instincts, Jason found his voice.

"Where am I?"

"Someplace where no deity from the numerous cosmologies- or pantheons, you can call them- can ever find you." Alex said calmly. He walked over to a table. "Including the Triumvirate."

The Triumvirate!

Jason shot out of bed. "I have to go back!" Instead he staggered as soon as he got up, and would have hit the floor if it weren't for Alex's hand shooting out and steadying him. It felt really strong and warm, despite that it wasn't big. He pulled Jason back to his feet.