Calling On A Goddess

[Marcus Drago]

What Marcus was about to do was born of his most craziest ideas to ever think of. He was going to try to call upon a Goddess. 

A while ago after researching his newly developed disease, Marcus found it odd that after his 100 years of life, he suddenly developed a disorder based on every trauma he ever had. The nightmares kept him up, and every dream was of something Marcus would normally suppress, or not think of since it was just another thing a part of his life. 

After doing a little more researching within the web, Marcus came across a cult who worshipped something known as a dream God. It lasted for over centuries, but it had gotten smaller to the point of being in only one part of a neighborhood. After the gods' sudden disappearance, people just stopped believing in it. 

Interested in this dream subject, Marcus looked through the cult's website, which was mostly filled with nonsense about how the god will return and they will build a temple in his name. Marcus thought nothing of what most of them said, realizing that it was just a website for crazy people. He then checked to see if his laptop was infected with a virus, which was when the next link suddenly popped up on the site. The words to the link was as followed: "Curses Of The Dream God."

Quickly, Marcus clicked the link, and discovered that the first curse gave symptoms that he now have. In that instant, Marcus was afraid. He feared the possible thought that he had just pissed off a god. A god! Out of many people he enjoyed pissing off, gods and goddesses were not one of them. In fact, Marcus tried to avoid everything that had to do with gods after his experience in the KD. 

He tried not to think about the possibilities of having a god on his ass. He tried desperately, until he had a dream unlike the others. He was in a field of red with dead bodies laying before him. This dream was one of his worst, he knew, so he tried his best to get out of it. Normally, when Marcus realized he was dreaming he would wake up. Only, this time was different.

All the dead bodies looked at him from the ground, some of their necks breaking just so they could view him. Over and over again they said to him, "From this moment on, you are a cursed man. A creature doomed to suffer at the hands of those it has wrenched from this world. Lifting this curse is but a simple matter, however. Prove to me that you are capable of much, much more than trivial acts of violence." They all deafened his ears with their chanting until he finally woke up.

That was months ago. 

Marcus tried to live as usual, but his life only became more miserable due to this curse. Having enough of this, Marcus agreed to play this god's game, and talked to the Daemons of Rome about the good gods, or gods that would probably favor him easily. That was when Marcus came across the goddess of balance.

He stood in the forest now, Placing two same sized and same weight stones on the ground. He placed a cup on each stone. For one cup he left empty, and for the other he filled with red wine. Marcus thought of using real blood, but decided not to when he remembered that he was proving another god that he was a good daemon. 

Then, Marcus placed a nicely decorated balance scale in-between the stones. On the scale he placed three blocks, same sized and same weight. The scale came to a perfect balanced stop, then he stared at his altar, feeling a little pride. Even if this didn't work, he enjoyed that he at least did something constructive for once in his life.

Kneeling to the ground and raising his hands in the air, Marcus screamed, "Oh all mighty balanced... Uh... Varos! I am merely a humble, handsome, mortal! I call upon you, if it pleases you, to ask of a favor! Please, come to me, and grace me with your beauty, power, and wisdom!" Marcus then stood up and did a very silly dance, chanting something unknown in the language of Greek. He hoped what he was doing was right, for the daemon that gave him the information on Varos told him to do so, and now he was thinking that he was just being made a fool of. 

[Varos Talantos]

After Marcus finished his dance, nothing would happen. Absolutely nothing. It would seem as if the poor Daemon had failed. Who knew how he would react to this, but time went on. Eventually, eight whole days passed, alongside eight hours, eight minutes, and eight seconds. It was during this moment, in perfect synchronization with the click of a clock, that a knock would come to Marcus’ door. Wherever he was. Perhaps he was in a restaurant, and she was just standing there. Perhaps he was at home, and the redheaded beauty was the best part of his day.

Now, believe it or not, Varos could be cheeky. She’d been wondering if she should mess around with the poor summoner for a bit beforehand. Varos had, of course, heard his summons, but had decided she enjoyed waiting a bit. Their reactions were always so much more amusing this way, and the Goddess hadn’t had a good laugh in the last decade or so. Perhaps this daemon would oblige.

As the door opened, a woman would be standing outside, in her UPS uniform. She’d look him up and down with her cold grey eyes and readjust her clipboard in her hands. She would then proceed to scan the room, with no shame, all the while smacking away at her gum. “Marcus Drago? Got a delivery here.”

She tooka few steps towards him, shoved the small box into his hands, before flipping the clipboard over to face him. “I need you to sign here please.”

If Marcus did comply, he would find a small plastic bird in the box. It was a children’s toy, one where, despite its shape, you could balance the beak on any surface, the whole body hanging off, and it wouldn’t fall. It wasn’t even one of the nice, painted ones. It looked as if the factory had forgot to finish making it, simply a plain white, with beady little eyes.

The woman would whip out a pen from her pocket, not even bothering to smile. It was obvious that she’d done it a thousand times and was very bored of her job. Probably had to deal with idiots who just stared at her all damned day. With impatience, she would tap the pen on the paper, showing him where to sign, before roughly handing it over as well.

“Sign right there Mr. *Smack* Drago.” She told him, still chewing the gum.

[Marcus Drago]

After nothing happened, Marcus was a little depressed. He left the altar where it was and went home. After delivering a very angry message to the daemon, Marcus spent the rest oh his days and nights in a hotel. He decided that he would take care of himself first, and plan out many other ways to get rid of this horrible curse. 

On the eighth day after Marcus called upon Varos, there was a knock on his door. At the time, Marcus was asleep. The knock certainly startled him from his sleep, but it was the nightmares that made him jump up and face the door with his handgun. Marcus hid the weapon quickly and etched to the door. His senses were not going off, so that meant he wasn't going to die; which also meant that it was safe to see who wanted him.

Marcus opened the door, and to his surprise and pleasure, a beautiful woman in a UPS outfit stared at him. She looked at his room first, but all she would notice would be a room filled with clothing. Shirts and pants everywhere, along with some take out boxes slathering around the floor. Marcus thought that he saw something move within the shadows of the clothing, but thought nothing of it, figuring that what ever rodent that crawled into his home wouldn't do enough damage to ruin his already ruined life.

She chewed her gum, and stared at Marcus with grey eyes. In my world, grey eyes are completely normal, he said to himself. The woman asked for his name, then told him he had a package. "You must be mistaken," Marcus told her. "No one likes me enough to give me a package."

Even still, the woman shoved a box into Marcus' hands then gave him a clipboard to sign. Her attitude made Marcus guess that she wasn't very happy to do her job, and that made him smile. Anyone who found the bad in everything alway seemed to make him feel a little bit better.

He took the clipboard and signed it, trying his hardest to not butcher his name with his handwriting. "You know, you should go into the entertainment industry. You look good enough for it. You'll just need to do something about... The eyes," Marcus would tell her as he would finish signing. 

Looking at the delivery order, Marcus would stare at it blankly, then back at the woman and ask, "What the hell is a balancing bird? And who sent this?"

 

[Varos Talantos]

Varos gave a disgusted sigh. What a room. Clothes were everywhere, food boxes were attracting ants and bigger vermin. It certainly was no place to welcome a Goddess, or even a two dollar hooker. It was chaotic, no sense of balance. Just like the one behind the mess, the inside of Marcus’ head was a mess.

“Well, who knows, maybe the *Smack* charity fund took notice of your *Smack* needs.” She replied sarcastically to the Daemon’s surprise. Something about her made him smile though, and she frowned in response, her eyebrows crinkling as they got closer together. Varos tapped her foot an even amount of times while she waited for the Daemon. She pitied actual UPS workers, if they always had to deal with people as slow as him. And this damned uniform was just plain ugly. She even blew two bubbles while waiting, before popping them and chewing again.

That’s when he decided to open his damned mouth again. The entertainment industry? As in an actress or a stripper? Or perhaps a combination of both: like pornography. But, even worse, he’d insulted her eyes. Varos chose her form, and had always thought fondly of her cool eyes, a perfect contrast to her bright hair.

“Excuse me?” Varos’ voice grated, clearly annoyed. “You think I can just change my fucking eyes like bippety-boppety-boop?”

She grabbed her clipboard and her pen, holding it to her chest as if it could function as some sort of shield. “I don’t know. I just deliver packages. Maybe try balancing it? Fucking asshole.”

With her last words, she spat out her gum, so that the stinky bright pink mess clung to the carpet in his room. It was already a mess anyways. She turned on her heel and began marching away, leaving only the plastic bird that seemed to stare at Marcus with its unblinking eyes.

[Marcus Drago]

The UPS worker was less than happy to deliver to Marcus, the man who was actually pretty pleased to have someone like her stand at his footsteps. That gum, however, Marcus did not like. If she smacked it any harder, she would need to host a funeral for it. There were still good things about her, like her look. Definitely her look. it reminded him of a nearly perfect human, one that wasn't too bad, yet too socially perfect. She had just the right amount of figure to almost seem balanced.

“Excuse me?” The UPS worker fired back with a nearly annoyed look. First she was disgusted at the sight of his room, and now she was annoyed. All he would need now is to see her angry and Marcus would know all the bad sides of this well balanced female. “You think I can just change my fucking eyes like bippety-boppety-boop?” Her anger was quickly coming.

"Bippety-boppety-boop?" Marcus questioned with a raised brow. All the while he was thinking, was I just cursed or cursed at?

Finally fed up with him, the worker took her clipboard and placed it to her chest. “I don’t know. I just deliver packages. Maybe try balancing it? Fucking asshole.” That was all that she said before she left Marcus in a hurry.

"That's not very good customer service!" Marcus hollered at her before he closed the door.

Walking back in the hotel, Marcus could see that bird stare at him from where he sat it. He didn't know why he thought this, but the bird's eyes looked awfully like the woman's who just left. It wasn't the color, but the shape that caught his attention. He passed it off as his mind eternally remembering the rude woman and how she called him an asshole, but now Marcus was strangely attracted to the toy bird.

Who sent it? Why would they give it to him? Was this a job request, or was this a message? There was no notes, just the bird whose shell had not even been fully painted. What the heck was going to happen to Marcus now?

Thoughts flooded his mind, but at the word 'balancing' when he thought of 'balancing bird,' Marcus began remembering the goddess Varos, and how she did not come to his call. 

"It's probably meaningless," Marcus decided, then he picked it up and looked it over again. "How the heck am I to balance you?" Marcus placed the bird's chest on his finger, but had it fall to the ground as soon as he released it to balance. He then picked it up again and looked at its label. There was a finger, and a much better looking Balancing Bird balancing on the finger with its beak. So, was that how it was done?

Marcus tried the way the label showed, and got the damn thing to balance, to his surprise. He felt happy knowing how to balance it now, but a little confused as to why physics and gravity were not working. 

"Well. You're not Varos Talantos herself, but you'll do great for a balancing teacher."

[Varos Talantos]

“Cinderella, Fairy Godmother?” She explained, slowing her words as if he were a bit slow in the mental department. Varos was surprised; sure, she was a Goddess with a lot of knowledge from watching the world, but how could this guy have never seen Cinderella?

She then proceeded to finish up the order and leave, while he yelled at her. She flipped him off as she sauntered down the hallway, and she heard the door slam behind her. She turned down the hallway, and collapsed in a fit of giggles. The immortal Goddess, who had been around since the dawn of Earth, was acting like a three year old. She’d spent time as an angry and serious UPS worker, and was now balancing herself out as a joyful child, to feel like herself again. A lot of people would think she was just crazy, and maybe she was, but it was hard to encompass everything equally.

After she finished her laughing fit, her body would vanish, as if she’d never existed.

Meanwhile, Marcus was also acting like a child, maybe with the mental capacity the UPS worker had assumed, as he tried to figure out how to play with his new toy and talked to it, before even reading the label.

“You know, nothing is meaningless.” The words would appear in Marcus’ mind, as if he’d heard someone speak, but had forgotten their voice. “Everything has purpose. Even a little plastic bird.”

[Marcus Drago]

“You know, nothing is meaningless,” a voice said inside Marcus's head. It echoed a little bit and caused him to have a major headache. He had to adjust to the knew voice, which was incredibly loud to him. 

"Ouch," Marcus said while the voice continued.

“Everything has purpose. Even a little plastic bird.”


Marcus looked at the bird, his face plastered with confusion. "Balancing bird?" He asked, "Is that you?" He wondered. It wouldn't be a surprise to him if a plastic bird was communicating, especially when he lived in a supernatural world like this. Although, if the thing began to haunt him then he would surely see it destroyed. "And what purpose does this little plastic bird have for me?"

Marcus held the bird up to his eyes to view all of it again. It looked half done, not even worth a toy collectors time. How could a thing so ugly possibly help him in any way?

That's when Marcus remembered, "I'm talking to a toy bird!"

He placed the toy down and rubbed his head in exhaustion. He was becoming crazy, and soon he would start doing crazy things like helping random people for no price. "I need some sleep. If only this pesky curse was gone! Damn you whatever god that did this to me. If I ever see you... I'll- I'll probably kill you!"

Marcus sighed. He was hearing people, he was talking to a bird, and he was crazily talking to himself. This whole cursed thing was getting out of hand. If only he could find some way to forcefully keep himself asleep. Drugs didn't work for him, and knocking himself out didn't work for him, so he was left with no solution to this problem but to change his way of thinking. However, how could a one-hundred year old dog learn a new trick? He was born to kill and have no remorse for doing it. He wasn't born to protect or save people. He didn't even know where to start if he DID want to protect or save someone.

"A killer can never become a protector..." He told himself. A man can never save what he was meant to kill. A hunter can't save a deer, and a murderer can't save a human being. It is like a law, a law that is almost impossible to break. I'm no hero, he thought. I'm a daemon, and daemon are bad people. Marcus fell on his bed, exhausted and begging for sleep.

[Varos Talantos]

Being a Goddess was an unexplainable thing. Being a concept was even more difficult. Being something that embodied everything, and nothing, was downright impossible. And a paradox. But somehow, Varos managed it. Currently, she existed in the room, as an invisible woman watching the Daemon, but she also existed in his head, in his very soul and in the sun, stars, and moon. In everything really. And it all existed within her.

Although, she did tone it down a little when Marcus registered pain. It was different for every being, and sometimes she was a bit too overwhelming. She had had to craft a humanoid form due to the fact her true self just killed off whoever saw it. So, the next words in Marcus’ head would be even stranger, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“The bird’s purpose has nothing to do with you. However its purpose may mirror yours. The bird exists only to balance.”

Marcus then proceeded to scoff at his actions, telling himself off for chatting with the little white toy. Varos felt some sympathy for the Daemon; a curse was a terrible thing, used only in extreme cases for Varos. However, the curse served a purpose, and Somnus was unwittingly helping her. And now Marcus was cursing him, the bags beneath his eyes seeming even more pronounced with the foul disposition his words held towards the Deity of Dreams.

“His name is Somnus, and you will never know what he truly looks like, unless you wish to meet Death.” The thoughts told him, oddly knowledgeable.

“A killer can never become a protector..." His words echoed the almost empty room. But it was his thoughts that were the most important.

A man can never save what he was meant to kill. A hunter can't save a deer, and a murderer can't save a human being. It is like a law, a law that is almost impossible to break. I'm no hero, I'm a daemon, and daemon are bad people.

“Now that’s where you are really quite wrong, Grandson.” This time, the words were spoken aloud, not within the confines of Marcus’ mind. Varos revealed herself, appearing as if from nowhere. She kept the same face she had had as the UPS worker, but this time was clothed in her white chiton, a broken looking sword at her hip. Large, leathery wings grew from the Goddess’ back, like that so many Daemons bore. They were black as night, looking subtle on the inside, rough on the outer edges. The Goddess had picked up Marcus’ bird toy; and so, she stood in full glory, giggling a little and spinning the bird on the tip of her finger.

[Marcus Drago]

"Now that’s where you are really quite wrong, Grandson.” 

A woman appeared before him, stepping out of a shining light of magnificence. She was the same woman Marcus had just met, yet more graceful in her posture and appearance. She had on her body a white dress that reminded him of what a roman woman would wear. on her hips was a sword that looked like it had been through hell, Marcus was sad to see the weapon in such a bad condition, though, knew that it would still be able to chop his head off if placed in the right hands.

At first, he wasn't all too happy to see this figure in front of him, not after what had just happened. However, when Marcus mulled over the word she used to call to him, he began to form a different opinion of this woman. 

"Grandson...?" Marcus asked with a little bit of ignorance in his tone. He surely tried to believe that this woman could be his grandmother, but the Drago family women were never this enchanting. The UPS workers looks were more likely to give a blind man sight and make an immobile man walk. If any of the Drago woman could do that, then Marcus wouldn't have killed them long ago.

"I reeeeeeeally think you have the wrong Drago. There is no way I could have come from your family genes." Marcus pointed to her. "I mean... Look at you compared to me. That just makes no sense!"

The daemon rubbed his head and sighed. His wings danced a little, shaking off some of the dust, though not near the woman in his home. This surely wasn't the best time to have company, especially one who called him grandson. What did she think of him as she stood upon piles and piles of trash? What does everyone think of him when they see his evil mug? He cared little about the topic of his appearance so much that he had forgotten the possible amount of answers.

"Anyways, grandmother, what do you mean I am wrong? If it is about the killing thing, then I have yet to be proven otherwise," Marcus said stubbornly. He refused to believe that people could change. Everyone was as they were born to be, anything else would make them not who they are. A killer kills, a lier lies, and a protector protects. Marcus stood as the killer, and barely protected anything. 

[Varos Talantos]

Varos smiled at Marcus’ confusion. It wasn’t mocking, but soft, kind, and inviting. Something a mother would give their child when they see them struggling to understand math for the first time. A ‘no, one plus one does not make three, its two you cutie’ sort of smile.

“Oh, no, I have the exactly right Drago. Marcus Drago, daemon extraordinaire, the killer who calls himself ‘Ghost’.” Varos told him. She folded up her wings all nice and neatly, before sitting down on the bed next to the stunned Marcus. “However, thank you for the compli- oh I almost forgot!”

The Goddess blinked a few times, and her cool grey eyes changed to a lovely cyan blue. It contrasted her bright hair, and she hoped that her Grandson liked them. She wanted him to feel at ease. Or, as eased as one could feel with a Goddess sitting in bed with them. “I hope that’s better.”

“Obviously the Daemons of Rome didn’t tell you everything. Perhaps the knowledge has been forgotten.” The Goddess trailed off, before switching to his question.

“A killer isn’t always a villain. A killer can protect. A cop just shot a robber- the robber won’t make it, but the woman he was holding hostage will be fine after counselling. It’s not the cop’s first time killing someone, nor will it be his last. The robber was going to be a killer, but to protect his own family. His daughter is sick. She won’t make it without the spare cash her daddy was bringing in for medication; his wife wasn’t sure how he was getting it, but didn’t question it. Even with the money, the daughter would not have made it. Nobody is just one thing. A killer is a killer, but can be a cop, a father, a protector. If something was just one thing, they would be living a truly terrible life. If someone is the wrong thing, it is the same. But although the robber who would have been a killer died, and his daughter shall too, his life wasn’t terrible. He had love, he acted out of love, and he died with her blue eyes on his mind. She’ll die thinking of how she will get to see her daddy again.”

“So think Marcus. What are you really? Are you truly just a killer? You’ve saved innocents before. You’ve helped strangers, even if you did take advantage with your eyes, you did not touch.”

“But when I said you were wrong, it is due to your thoughts, insulting your own race. Daemons are not bad people.” Varos explained, finishing her long-winded speech. Her cyan eyes never left Marcus’ face as she spoke.

[Marcus Drago]

For the first time in a long time, Marcus was at a loss of words. No witty or annoying comeback came from his lips, and he knew that any argument he raised would be turned back immediately. Marcus' grandmother was completely right. It made him wonder, could he have always been the good guy? Did killing people for the sake of killing come easier for him? Marcus thought about the times he saved people; when he first met Bethany; the time he was pushed into another dimension; and even the time when a town was infected with zombies. Through out those times, it was always him jumping into action to save someone he didn't know. His grandmother reminded him of those times, long forgotten and replaced by times when he had done wrong.

"I am the enemy," he said out loud to particularly no one. "I do not do good... I was not born to do good..." Marcus placed his head in his hands, and he fought back stinging tears. He didn't know why his body wanted to subject him to such an embarrassment, but he fought against it. 

Marcus turned to his grandmother who was sitting next to him with nothing but warmth and gentleness playing her face. Maybe if he had experienced this type of gentleness when he was younger, he wouldn't have been as cursed as he was now. 

The daemon sighed then stood up. He collected his katana, which was near his bed, and looked at his current apparel through a mirror. He had on only a white T-shirt, his wings showing through two ripped slots in the back, and black jeans. It was presentable enough for a man with Marcus' looks, and his smell was nothing to worry about. Marcus was ready to head outside, he knew for a fact.

Swiftly Marcus turned to his grandmother with an unyielding resolve. "Alright, grandmother," he said to her. "Take me to a place, or someone, that needs protecting. It is time that I balance myself. Accept both the good and the evil."

[Varos Talantos]

“You think Fate chooses everything that happens to you? Fate gives you a general purpose, it doesn’t define who you are as a person.” Varos explained. She was used to this, visiting people full of self-pity and hatred. Some thought it was the Universe’s fault, some thought there was no Fate. It didn’t matter what they said, Varos would go with it if she was interested in them.

However, it was his next words that took her by surprise. No, not the demand to go somewhere, but the total acceptance. Varos smiled, she knew she’d decided to interact with him for a reason. It was hard to take a Goddess by surprise. But she’d grown used to the motions, and there were usually so many questions: How did you find me? How did you know what I was thinking? How did you get here? What did you mean when you mentioned the Daemons of Rome? Those had been what Varos expected. But Marcus wanted to skip all that and skip straight to the action. Perhaps he didn’t care, perhaps he never thought of it.

“Oh do not use such doubt in your tone Marcus. We are related. Just add a few ‘Greats’ to that Grandmother. But Nana will do just fine thank you.” Varos liked ‘Nana’, it was four letters, unlike ‘Grandmother’, which was eleven.

Nana Varos stood from the bed, placing her hand on Marcus’ arm. Suddenly the room would be gone, replaced by a run-down building, with a line out front. “Welcome Marcus, to a homeless shelter in this city. Inside, there are volunteers serving dinner to these people. I know you were expecting something a little more exciting, and I did briefly consider Syria or a land known as Nysa, but I figured that was exactly what you normally do. This is different. I’ve given us a moment of invisibility so you can hide those wings, but I would like you to volunteer for a while. I will be waiting out here in a few hours.”

[Marcus Drago]

It appeared that Marcus said something very interesting to his grandmother; for she smiled when he spoke. He didn't think much of it, though, he wondered what was it about his words that made her happy.

“Oh do not use such doubt in your tone Marcus," his grandmother said. "We are related. Just add a few ‘Greats’ to that Grandmother. But Nana will do just fine thank you.”

"Alright," Marcus replied. "I shall name you Nana." Marcus smiled along with his Nana. Her smiles were very infectious, and he couldn't fight against them. 

His Nana stood and walked towards Marcus. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder, then the room suddenly disappeared. The bed, the mess, the bird; it was all gone and replaced with grass and buildings. Marcus was outside, but still in Greece, he could tell. The day had become night fast, and Marcus stared at an old white looking building with words on it. Those words read: "Η άνοδος Ελπίδα (Rising Hope)."

“Welcome Marcus, to a homeless shelter in this city," his Nana said, and automatically, Marcus frowned. He knew exactly what she was going to say, 'volunteer at a homeless shelter.' The problem with this task was that Marcus did not enjoy caring for, or even talking to needy people. If he ever did talk to some of those people, their conversation would not be the very greatest. "Inside, there are volunteers serving dinner to these people. I know you were expecting something a little more exciting, and I did briefly consider Syria or a land known as Nysa, but I figured that was exactly what you normally do. This is different."

Even still, his Nana had a great point in bringing him here. He wanted to balance himself and prove that there was more to him than just a killing monster, even though he liked being a killing monster. In order for him to be balanced, Marcus would need to do pure things that he'd never done before. He couldn't even remember the first time he walked into a homeless shelter. In a sense, he needed to cleanse himself in white clean waters after spending so much time in a dark dusty corner. 

"I’ve given us a moment of invisibility," Marcus' Nana continued. "so you can hide those wings, but I would like you to volunteer for a while. I will be waiting out here in a few hours.”

Marcus looked towards his wings, that were still large and dark upon his back. In one second, they flapped above is head, in the next, it was gone. Marcus was incredibly surprised. Without the wings he felt lighter, and less insecure about how he looked around his Nana. Although, not having his wings felt even more wrong to him. 

Marcus sighed. "You owe me my wings when I return. And I want them bigger and more beautiful than ever!" Marcus said, jokingly. He didn't like this new job of his, but he would deal with it until the end. What was the worst that could happen?

The daemon gave his Nana the katana which he held, then he walked to the building and opened its doors. He was very surprised to see that there were no odd smells in this shelter. It was not dirty either, but well kept and homey. When Marcus stepped in, the first thing he saw was a desk with a rather big boned woman behind it. She was leaning on the brown table, and nibbling on the top of a pin. Her eyes looked like they were staring at nothing. Maybe she was entertaining her mind to break her boredom?

"Hello...?" Marcus said to the woman, who looked scared of his voice for a moment. 

Sorry, she said to him in Greek when she finally looked alert. 

Don't worry, Marcus said to her in the same language. I get that type of reaction a lot. The large woman stood up promptly to look through some papers. She wore a green shirt with the shelters name on it. Marcus saw that many of the volunteers were wearing the same thing. Maybe this was something Marcus would need to wear as well? I have come to volunteer, Marcus said, realizing that he had just said something he once said that he would never say. That was a heavy surprise.

The woman happily gave him a form to sign, telling him about how not many people volunteered like he was about to, but just tossed money their way and claimed it as doing a good thing. Sometimes it is much better to interact with the homeless, let them know that they truly have someone who cares for them, she finished explaining. 

Marcus tried to place himself into the homeless shoes, but couldn't. He had power, and power brought him money. Why would he ever be homeless when he could phase through someones room and choke them to death for money? Although, there was a point when Marcus lived in the streets, though, a very fleeting moment. It was very hard for Marcus to show empathy.

Marcutio Doukus? The woman repeated Marcus' fake name. He never wanted anyone to know his real name, so he always had fakes as backups. The woman looked at him as though it was an obviously fake appellation, however, even if she did know, she did not call him on it. 

That's right! Marcus smiled, and the woman smiled back at him. 

Follow me, She told him, and he did just that. She led him through a hall filled with many rooms that resembled bedrooms, to a giant area the was deemed the cafeteria. A lot of people filled the cafeteria seats, chatting among themselves about some of the most meaningless things Marcus could hear. Some mentioned the menu of the day, others talked about TV-series, while some spoke softly of drama. So these were their conversations? Nothing too grand like who they were going to kill next, but small things like what they were going to eat next. Marcus wouldn't mind having a conversation about that with someone every once in a while.

The woman then led him to a back room that had to be the kitchen. Everything in there was either white, silver, or deep fried. The food some of the volunteers were cooking smelled great, and probably tasted better than the Daemons of Rome's cooking. She then introduced Marcus to the chef of the shelter. He was a very buff Italian named Raffaelleo. This guy was all smiles outside the kitchen, but inside he was very serious. For a while, he had Marcus cleaning dishes. Towards the end, however, Marcus was to pass out food to the homeless. The role strained his back a little, but he managed to find some good things about his work. It was when the homeless received their food, then smiled at him and thanked him. This really didn't effect him until an elderly woman struggled to hold her tray. Yet still, she gave him a feeble smile, and forced herself to thank him for all that he was doing. It was an odd feeling that Marcus was given, odd and alien, yet very good.

When dinnertime at the shelter was over, Marcus hung around with the volunteers, who were eating the leftovers that the homeless did not take. It was some delicious food that Raffeolleo made, and Marcus was finding himself slowly addicted to the tastes. While Marcus was eating, a group of kids suddenly came into the room, passing out handmade cards to the volunteers. One particular 3 year old girl with twin pigtails slowly walked up to Marcus. She was holding onto her card for dear life, and her face was clearly turning red the more Marcus looked at her.

A slim teenaged girl had to come and gently tug the girl to Marcus. The little girl was so small that she needed to wobble just to get to him. With a pacifier in her mouth, the girl handed Marcus a bright pink card that carried a pink ribbon. On the front cover were wild differently colored crayola words that Marcus could barely read. inside was a drawing, one of volunteers dressed in green (like Marcus was after Raffeolleo gave him a shirt to wear) doing exactly what Marcus had done; and on the top of the inside were more differently colored crayola words that spelled out 'thank you' in Greek.

Marcus looked at the card, then the girl. He then sighed and gently rubbed the girls temple. Don't just thank me by a card, little one, Marcus said in greek. Thank me by living. The girl smiled. She liked it when Marcus played with her hair, so he did that one more time, and talked with her until it was time for her to leave.

When the hour was nearly over, Marcus came back to where he last left Varos, calling out to her. "Nana," he said. "How did I do?" Marcus waited, expecting a answer.  

[Varos Talantos]

“You shall not ‘name’ me Marcus, I’m not a pet. I have merely informed you of what you will call me, it is not a choice, I will accept nothing else but silence.” Nana Varos told the daemon, who had begun smiling her. She then proceeded to bring him to the Rising Hope shelter, and, as mentioned before, explained what he was to do.

Varos removed the invisibility from Marcus, while also changing his form as to make him more human and removing his wings. He also proceeded to joke around a bit, and Varos had a light smile on her face. “Why of course I will give you your wings back, but just remember to never sass me, or they may turn out pink and heart-shaped.”

She waved her grandson off, and suddenly, the red-haired woman who looked much too young to be anyone’s ‘Nana’ vanished. She had other matters to attend to, and caused a flash flood in Utah, where seven people proceeded to die as a result. Sometimes the universe was strange, and needed what seemed like terrible things to continue functioning. However, as promised, when Marcus exited the shelter later that night, Varos stood exactly where she had been before.


"Nana, how did I do?" Marcus asked. Perhaps he was seeking justification, or praise. Perhaps he was nervous about his performance, or perhaps he was bragging.

“I did not watch. What you do is entirely your choice, and I will not always be here to guide you. If you think you did well, you may have. If you think you did awful, you may have. I do not know, but you are your own judge.” She explained, leaving out the part that she just killed seven hikers. No need for details. She then proceeded to change Marcus’ form, restoring his wings. “And there, as promised, you have your wings. Now Marcus, come, sit with me.”

The grass below their feet began to grow, weaving itself into two chairs. Varos sat herself down in one, motioning for Marcus to use the other. She crossed her ankles, but about every four minutes, she would switch which way they were crossed.

“Although you did not ask questions, I have come to give you answer. As I said, I am your Nana, but you called for me under one of my names- Varos. You seek help against your curse, but that is not why I am here. A much worse Fate has been planned for you, and I am here to try and save you from it.”

[Marcus Drago]

“I did not watch," she answered, and Marcus nearly jumped from the ground with surprise. A god that did not see all? That was a first for Marcus. All the gods Marcus ever heard of were those that always had an eye on everything. If a god did not see, how could it judge? "What you do is entirely your choice, and I will not always be here to guide you. If you think you did well, you may have. If you think you did awful, you may have. I do not know, but you are your own judge.”

Marcus thought of a rude comment, but kept his mouth shut. This woman seemed to have power beyond his handling. If he said the wrong thing then she could make him croak like a frog while he tried to bark like a dog. 

While he held back his tongue, Marcus wings began to grow back in a fast pace, making him a representative of his beautiful race once again. He was very fond of his wings, and although they were a hell of a nuisance when he tried to put on clothing, he still loved them. Hence was why he felt a little more peaceful when they sprouted out of him.

“And there, as promised, you have your wings," Nana pointed out.

"I thank you," Marcus bowed respectfully. Hearing his wings flap to the wind once again was blissful. The feathers were beginning to keep him warm, and Marcus had a nerving feeling to spread them and fly. However, not with his Nana around. The woman had another, more important matter to discuss with the daemon.

"Now Marcus, come, sit with me,” she said. Suddenly, the grass below Marcus' feet began to grow and mold into two chairs. 

Nice power, Marcus thought as he took a seat in his grass chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the daemon could see himself falling asleep in one of these. Although, with every sleep came a nightmare, and then he would be stuck in a loop of waking screams and falling nightmares. This curse that Marcus had was very torturing, yet, somehow, he could live through it. 

Marcus' katana laid near his feet. He picked it up, then took the pink ribbon off of the card that he was given. Tightly, he tied the pink ribbon to the katana's handle, which happened to be the color of black. He once named the blade 'Shadow.' However, now he would need to come up with a new name to match this deeply dark weapon with a colorful accessory.

“Although you did not ask questions, I have come to give you answers," Nana said to Marcus. She began to make the daemon wondered if he was suppose to ask questions. It would surely be what a normal person would do. If a woman with unlimited power visit a persons home, that person would love to know that beings meaning for being there. Unfortunately, Marcus wasn't a normal person. In fact, so man strange things have happened to him in his life, some very life threatening, that he has learned to go with the flow, and discover secrets out for himself. Even still, Marcus did develop a few curious questions for his Nana in that moment.

"As I said, I am your Nana, but you called for me under one of my names- Varos," his Nana continued, and Marcus furrowed his brows. "You seek help against your curse, but that is not why I am here. A much worse Fate has been planned for you, and I am here to try and save you from it.”

Marcus stayed quiet. He literally had nothing to say. He would imagine that he would have a lot to say, after all, Marcus had a fierce mouth on him. He could think of a crude joke that would only make him laugh within a second, but not in this moment. A goddess just said that something dark was going to happen to him, and it took her to save him. Out of all the warnings Marcus heard over the years, this one destroyed them all.