Magic Murder Cube Marine

Hades was getting used to sleeping on the couch. His nightly arguments with Persephone had begun to blur together. The god of death could barely remember what had started the fight, or even how it ended.

The stiffness in his neck did nothing to improve Hades’ mood as he stood in front of the scrying pool. His spies had told him that the main body of refugees were a day’s walk from Brexis.

Ordinarily Hades would have taken the win and called it good. Zeus had lost a city and a significant amount of his followers. Best yet, the dragon had done the dirty work for him.

Things were going pretty alright for Hades. At least, until he made the mistake of scrying on his wife. It wasn't any big deal to him, he did it all the time. But what he saw made him grip the sides of the marble scrying pool until it cracked.

His wife, his darling Persephone, was making love to another man. They grunted and panted, she clawed his back and called out in ecstasy. And as they changed positions, Hades spotted a familiar face.

“Fuck you Francis!” the god of death screamed, putting enough hatred into the words that the scrying pool began to boil. “I’ll kill you for this!”

***

Meanwhile, the real Francis was getting the intricacies of Brexis' tax laws explained to him by a revenant in a black robe. But it was going slowly, because the Marine kept asking questions.

“So, let me get this straight,” Francis said, scratching his head, “The city has been a fucking graveyard for two centuries, and you boys are still down here doing tax audits?”

The revenant reached a skeletal finger out towards him. “Yes…” It gasped, “What is owed… must be paid… the forms… filed… you are the god… of this place… you must… ensure the collections… are made…”

Francis ignored the bony digit pointing at his chest. He had spotted something on the back wall of the room. It was a combination tiki bar and shrine, with a jewel encrusted Soul Jar hiding among the bottles of booze.

“Who might that be?” Francis asked.

The revenant didn't have eyes to roll. But it managed to get the point across. “That's Locke… he's… difficult to work with….”

“Well, I like his style.” The Marine walked over to the Tiki bar and grabbed a blue Hawaiian shirt off a clothes hanger. He rubbed the silk between his fingers. “This is some premium material.”

“Yes…” The revenant turned up its non-existent nose at the gaudy fabric. “And all of it… wasted…”

Francis pulled off his black Robes of Casual Evil and slipped the shirt on. It was a little tight around the chest, so he decided to leave it unbuttoned. “How do I look, babe?”

Willow bit her lower lip, she loved a well built man in a silk shirt. “Fuckable. Very fuckable.”

“God damn!” Francis grinned, he had just found a new favorite shirt to go with his pink shorts.

He patted the front pocket of the shirt. Inside was a silver cigar tube and a pair of sunglasses. “System, what can you tell me about this stuff?”