CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE

The Third Labor, Part 2

With his ethereal shield and magical hammer at the ready, and with a rallying cry of, “I can do this!” lifting his spirits, Sam launched a flurry of blows against the Nemean Lion to force Apex back into his human form.

“You know what time it is?” He swung Onus with all his might, again and again, staggering the Nemean Lion with each blow. “It’s magic hammer time!”

When the Nemean Lion attempted to counter with its claws, Sam blocked each would-be-critical hit with Bulwark’s ethereal shield.

“It’s also magic shield time!”

Sam flung his shield at the Nemean Lion’s paw before it could complete its swing down on him, causing the great beast to once again lose its balance. Meanwhile, the shield bounced back into Sam’s hand like a boomerang.

“And more magic shield!”

A second, and then the third, well-timed shield throw finally cut through the enchantment of the Nemean Lion’s Fur and once again revealed the villain underneath it. However, the monster’s form was quick to reshape. It was as if the spirit of the great beast refused to let go of the mortal it possessed. It blindingly lashed out at Sam in anger, but the hero was waiting for just this moment. Sam quickly dropped his shield so he could reshape Bulwark into a glowing teal-tinged wall that not only repelled the Nemean Lion’s attack but also blocked Sam momentarily from its sight.

“Claw can’t beat my wall, psycho,” Sam taunted from behind his conjured creation. “It’s like you’ve never played boulder, parchment, dagger before.”

The Nemean Lion let out another indignant roar and then renewed its assault on the glowing wall with frenzied fervor. But when the great beast finally shattered [Bulwark (Δ)]’s defenses, Sam wasn’t cowering behind it. He’d pulled a bait-and-switch and was already up in the air before the Nemean Lion noticed that he’d gone.

With the help of Bulwark’s new mechanics, Sam conjured a floating teal-tinged wall in the air above him. He then used this wall as a springboard to launch himself like an arrow down on the Nemean Lion’s head.

***

Meanwhile, more people had gathered to watch Sam’s fight to the point that Jackboot had all but given up on telling people to run away. He chose instead to protect them from any dangerous projectiles that appeared as a result of the battle beyond the railing that separated both halves of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Come on, mate,” Jackboot whispered. “You’ve got this.”

“Hey, Mr. Jackboot, is this new hero your buddy?” asked the African American man sporting the Warrior’s jersey.

“Yes he is, citizen,” Jackboot answered proudly.

“Let him know he needs better lines… My fifteen-year-old niece could write better material than the satyr-shit he’s spilling,” the man in the Warriors jersey said.

The slanted-eyed man standing next to the woman in the baseball cap laughed. “Dude needs a better tailor too.”

“Yes, actually… he’s a work friend.” Jackboot felt bad for Sam’s West Coast debut because first impressions did last, but even he agreed that Sam needed an image change. Mr. Moonday needs to do better on Sam’s next suit for his sake. Heroics in this day and age is more than just doing what’s right.

“Why aren’t you helping him?” asked the woman in the baseball cap.

“Well, I would, but,” Jackboot glanced over his shoulder to the growing number of spectators, “I can’t exactly leave you people unprotected… Unless you lot would finally agree to evacuate?”

“Are you kidding?” the man in the Warrior’s jersey raised an eyebrow at Jackboot. “This fight’s just getting good. No way in—”

That’s when Sam’s back smacked against the railing that was just in front of the gathered crowd.

“Holy—”

The Nemean Lion had just let out a mighty roar, and the sight of the great beast lumbering toward their side of the bridge forced most of the spectators to scamper away in fright.

***

Sam had been so focused on delivering that final blow that he didn’t even notice the Nemean Lion’s tail whipping toward him. More importantly, he didn’t think the tail could hit him so hard. But that tuft of hair at the end of the tail felt as heavy as an iron mace. It smashed against Sam’s gut and sent him over the railing and crashing into the side of a car that acted as a barrier between their fight and the civilians gathered on the city-bound side of the bridge.

“Run…” Even as pain flared up and down his spine, Sam’s first thought was the safety of the civilians behind him. “Have to… keep fighting.”

Triple-A warned him not to move as his HP had dropped to dangerous levels, but Sam couldn’t stay still. Not when there were people who needed help. He staggered forward while his mind reeled from the pain. He might have fallen face-first on the ground though if it wasn’t for the two pairs of hands that appeared to hold him up by his shoulders.

A woman in a baseball cap braced her body against Sam’s left side while a dark-skinned man in a basketball jersey held Sam’s right side up.

“You okay, dude?” asked a third man, a slanted-eyed civilian who carried Onus in his hands.

“I…” Sam stared dumbfoundedly back at him.

He had never seen non-gifted act this way before. As if his bloody countenance or the horror stalking toward them wasn’t enough to make these civilians run away.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear, kid… Chiron’s Lesson Number Eight sprang to the forefront of Sam’s mind. …it’s the will to keep standing despite the quaking in your boots.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered.

“You’re risking your butt for us. The least we can do is help you get back up,” said the man in the Warrior’s jersey.

“I…”

Sam wasn’t sure how to react to this act of kindness that he’d never experienced before. So very few people were willing to risk themselves for others, after all. Even among heroes. It seemed Jackboot could be counted among those few. While the civilians helped Sam regain his composure, Jackboot leaped over them. With a thumbs-up at Sam, and a call of, “I’ll hold it off until you’re ready to get back into the fight!” the hero with the proportional abilities of a hare slammed his boot against the Nemean Lion’s shoulder to steal its aggro away from Sam.

“Thank you,” Sam repeated. “But I’m okay now.”

No, it wasn’t just bravado on Sam’s part. Regeneration had healed him enough that he was ready for round three. Besides, he’d been so inspired by these civilians that he was raring to go and show them just what kind of hero he was. Sam didn’t know it, but they were equally inspired by him so they continued to stand beside him while he readied himself for his next move.

“You’ll need this.” The Asian man handed Sam back his hammer. “You know, with how hard you hit with it, I thought this thing would be a lot heavier.”

Sam chuckled. “Depends on who’s carrying it, I think.”

Actually, in Sam’s hand, the hammer seemed to grow even heavier. It was proof that his current burden had only increased.

“Herculean, I’ve heard that name before.” The African American in the basketball jersey nodded his head at Sam. “The Herald says you’re a vigilante. Is that true?”

Sam shrugged. “Do you believe everything you read?”

The man shook his head. “I’m the type who’s gotta see it to believe it… and you’re definitely a hero.”

“Might want to learn some martial arts to avoid getting hit though,” the Asian man chimed in.

They each offered Sam their fists which Sam bumped while grinning sheepishly. Deep down, he was elated to see that people were seeing his actions for what they were. Although he didn’t doubt that the Herald—his grandmother’s own newspaper—would find some way to spin this against Sam’s favor once the fight was over. Assuming Sam survived the battle on the bridge, of course.

“Please don’t lose,” begged the woman in the baseball cap. “We need you.”

Her words sounded almost like a prayer to Sam’s ears. The plea of the ungifted to a hero who had no reputation to deserve the hope she just placed on his shoulders.

Be someone who can give them hope. Hope’s words flitted across Sam’s mind when he grinned over his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”