Divinity

Chapter Three

CASTOR SLAMMED THE DOOR of the shack closed as hard as he could (and by door, he means piece of wood very precariously nailed into the walls so that it swings a bit). Since it wasn't a real door, and it didn't actually close, he got no satisfaction.

Pollux was being absolutely insufferable. Pollux usually was, but now more than ever. After eating the munchkins – they were really good – and drinking the coffee that Pollux had bought him, he'd been in a relatively good mood. Of course, Pollux knew how to ruin it. Castor was adamant that last night's experience proved that living in a shack was a really bad idea, but Pollux insisted that it was fine, and the only reason that they were attacked was because Castor had left. Castor had then brought up the whole, but Clifford the big (but not red) dog said that they were under specific orders to attack us card, to which Pollux had responded, “It's a dog. How does it know anything?”

“Why in hades did I agree to living in a shack anyway?” Castor muttered. “This is ridiculous. How is a fucking shack safer than an apartment?”

What Pollux really needed was proof that where they were living was too dangerous, which it was. Of course, that wasn't the only reason Castor hated it. It lacked all modern-day necessities, such as running water, air conditioning, coke, and most importantly, cable tv. It was mind- numbingly boring out here once the building was done. It was also just a stupid idea.

If only he could attract monsters...

As if on cue, Castor heard Pollux yell, “Monster pack at twelve o' clock!” He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his sword, and ran out of their shack, only to see a herd of Cyclopes headed their way. They made quite a bit of noise, considering they were trampling trees as they got closer.

“Well come on! What are you waiting for?” Castor yelled over the din, grabbing his brother's arm. “Do your fancy god teleport thing!”

Pollux gulped. “Ah well. You see, there's a bit of a problem with that.”

Castor stared at him, wondering if it would be acceptable to hit him. “What is it this time, Pollux? Is it too modern for you? Do you need to gallop away on fucking horseback like a true ancient greek? There's no way we can fight off ten cyclopes at once, Pollux.”

“No, seriously. I can only do what you call 'the teleport thing' twice every few hours, Castor, and I last used it to bring you Dunkin' Donuts.”

Castor threw his hands up in the air. “Should've known there'd be a catch to that. So when does 'a few hours' end, exactly?”

Pollux looked at the sun. “Oh, maybe ten minutes?”

“They just couldn't have come ten minutes later,” Castor muttered under his breath. The cyclopes were drawing nearer and nearer. He drew his sword, and prepared himself for hell.

Only to have Pollux shove him backwards. “You're not fighting, Castor,” he said, walking in front of him.

“Why the hell not?” Castor asked indignantly. “Am I not godly enough for you?”

“You're wounded,” Pollux said calmly, pointing at the bandage still wrapped around Castor's head. “You'll just get yourself injured again,”

“I will not!” Castor protested, pushing Pollux aside. Of all times for him to get noble, why now?

“Yes, you will!” Pollux said, shoving him backwards again, this time utilizing the superhuman strength he was blessed with. Castor stumbled backward a good twenty feet, before finally regaining his footing. He glared at the back of Pollux, who was now engaged in battle with the cyclopes. He was doing admittedly well, but Castor knew his brother, and his brother could not defeat that many Cyclopes by himself. Cyclopes were tall, strong, and really really angry most of the time. It made them absolutely ruthless in battle.