Destiny's Darkside

Destiny's Darkside

The closet door clicked shut, plunging the world back into the "blackened pit".

Chiron let out a dusty sigh, his plastic wheels settling into the shag carpet remnant on the floor. "I was a teacher," he grumbled, his voice echoing slightly in his blue plastic casing. "I taught the Gods. I taught Achilles to fight, Jason to lead... and now? I teach lint who is boss."

"Oh, cry me a river, pony-boy," a gritty voice rasped from the shelf above. A canister of scouring powder shuffled forward. "You think you have it bad? I was Ajax. The Great! I was the bulwark of the Achaeans! I held off entire armies single-handedly."

"And now?" Chiron asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Now?" Ajax spat a puff of blue dust. "Now I fight 'tough grease and grime.' I used to be stronger than Hector. Now my slogan is just 'Stronger than dirt.' It’s humiliating. Do you know what it feels like to be rubbed against a bathtub ring until you dissolve? I used to wield a shield seven layers thick! Now I am the abrasive."

"Don't speak my name, Achaean," a smooth, noble voice drifted down from the very top shelf.

Ajax rattled his canister angrily. "I'll speak it if I want, Hector. At least I didn't let the Greeks inside my walls."

A small, square foil packet—Hector, Prince of Troy—slid to the edge of the shelf, leaning against a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "That was one time," Hector muttered. "And it was a trick. A wooden horse. You think I don't regret that?"

"You failed to protect your city," Ajax jeered. "And look at you now. You're tiny. You're flimsy. You're sitting next to the cotton balls."

"I am still a defender!" Hector insisted, though his foil wrapper crinkled with exhaustion. "My name still stands for protection! Trusted protection! Do you know the pressure I am under? One slip up, one break in the line, and it is chaos. Total chaos for at least eighteen years."

"I suck up dog hair," Chiron argued, trying to regain control of the pity party. "It chokes me."

"I get scrubbed into toilet bowls," Ajax countered. "It dissolves me."

Hector looked down at the vacuum, then at the bleach, and shook his little foil head. He looked toward the door, where the sounds of a Friday night party were just starting to filter through.

"You guys complain about getting dragged around or scrubbing a few tiles? You have no idea the things I've seen. The places I've been..."

He shuddered, bracing himself.

"Hold my beer."

—

Thanks for reading

This was another entry for Friday Flash Fiction on Tumblr. 

The prompt was "When It's Dark

Writing this one, I couldn’t help but think of the three heroes complaining as if it were three guys at a bar:

A Centaur (vacuum), a Greek Hero (Ajax cleanser), and a Trojan (If you know, you know) Prince walk into a bar...

The bartender looks at them and asks, "Rough day?"

Chiron says, "It sucked." 

Ajax says, "I'm wiped." 

And Hector sighs, "Don't ask…” He turns to his buddies and asks. “Could you spot me a beer, I’m broke?”

So yeah, I just had to make the comic too! :)

TTFN

Frank