#andreas.

Rawlins was going to kill him. It was the most prevalent thought in his head as he hurried down the street, still pulling on the hoodie that would hopefully disguise the fact that he hadn't really slept. Well, that and the several cigarettes that he'd smoked. Though, neither would be anything new for Kayce, despite how much had changed in the last month. Or longer. But he had decided to make a better effort at getting to the shop each day, and hopefully on time. Which was not in his favor that morning, as he slipped past individuals on the street. That is, until a particular individual triggered some memory or thought or simple recognition. His hurrying steps came to a halt as he turned towards the other, "You --- do we know each other?" There was something familiar about the other, but Kayce couldn't quite pinpoint it. Not exactly, not yet.

The last time they had spoke, Nikolai had inquired about learning how to fight. A concept that hadn't blossomed in his first life, nor followed him through the many others. From what he could recall. While he had once learned how to wield a sword, had followed others on adventures, fighting had never been a pleasant taste upon his tongue. He had always been better suited in an advisement position than anything else. Or rather, would have, before his mind had shattered and splintered. Even being amid the fighting set him at an unease, but he knew that he had needed to attend. If only so that he could cheer on Davheira from the stands. Which is where he had been, before the sight of Aren caught his attention. Aren, Andreas, Perseus; one day a singular name would win out above the rest. "Are you rooting for anyone in particular?"

Aren. Andreas. Perseus. The names seemed to continue, each seemingly holding a different space within Niko's life. The one who had granted him this gift, the one that had fathered him, and now the one that had continued on his line. If it had not been for his younger brother, perhaps father and son would have not been reunited. Perhaps Niko wouldn't have been given this chance again, though he was unsure whether they had met in another life. Memories had been returned to him, sporadic and fleeting, but he hadn't seen Perseus in them. Or rather, perhaps he had simply not known who he was. "The memories are coming back, though I'm surprised they weren't jumbled again with this time shift," he grinned, as if it had all been such fun. Niko had been turned into some kind of mushroom zombie, before he'd been cured and then killed. It hadn't been his first death, and it certainly wouldn't be his last, however. "I may still need your help. You know, before we find ourselves in another war."

Memories had begun to slowly trickle in from what may have been his most previous life, or perhaps even one before that. Niko couldn't be certain how many lives he had lived, but he did have an idea of how old his soul was. Konstantin had mentioned that he had been Heleus in his first life. The son of Perseus, brother of Electryon and so many others. He had been a prince, yet it hardly seemed as such. For he felt as if he were the furthest thing from it. Felt as if he were nothing more than a kid from New York, the brother to Asher. And apparently, some distant relative of Andreas, who also held another relation to him. Who also happened to be the very person he sought out within the Pyramid, amidst the preparations that were taking place. "I've been meaning to ask," he started, a soft smile slipped into his features, "do you have a preference on what I call you?" Father seemed a little odd, nephew could have been another, but Niko wasn't certain how distant that was. Perseus seemed a bit dated, as well.

he had not meant to get separated. 

in the chaos of battle, his fellow soldiers had broken rank.  his shield had been damaged in the skirmish, and his spear, his lifeline, was held so tight in his hand he feared it might snap.  protect the polis at all costs, his commander had screamed as the monsters, the foul demons of the dark had attacked.  things of myth and legend, they were supposed to be.  not the enemy at the gates.

they had swarmed, and andreas had fled further into the city to avoid being swallowed up.  spear in hand, he killed beast after beast, but more followed in their place. everywhere he turned, another one lunged at him, trying to sink its claws into his flesh.

a scream erupted from behind him, and as andreas turned he saw a beast slamming its doglike body into a door, clawing at the wood until it began to splinter.  andreas lunged, stabbing his spear through its heart, and the creature crumpled.  he took a moment to catch his breath, and approached the building.  the door creaked open, and a tiny face poked out from behind.

“you can’t stay here.”  andreas said gruffly, but the poor young girl shook her head.  

“we can’t leave our papa.”  she whispered, and swung the door open.  behind her were two more small children, one boy and one girl, and they crouched next to their father who was clearly very sick.  andreas grit his teeth.  

“its not safe.”  he continued, warily eyeing the street for any sign of the hellhounds.  “i can escort you, we need to move inward.”

“we can’t move him!”  the tiny girl insisted, eyes wide with tears.  “he’s--”

she was cut off by a horrible growl, and andreas turned in alarm.  three hounds approached, and he stepped in front of the door with a glare.  “close the door, now.”

the little girl did as he bid, slamming it shut behind him.  the first hound lunged, and he batted it away with his spear.  the second roared, racing towards him at full speed.  he stabbed it through the throat, barely tugging his spear free in time for the third who pounced.  it hit andreas full in the chest, and he stumbled backwards, into the door which splintered beneath the weight of them.  he crashed to the floor between the family, screams echoing in his ears.  with his left hand, he pulled his knife free and drove it into the skull of the beast -- but not before its maw dug into the flesh of his shoulder.

andreas howled, and shoved the now-dead creature off of him.  he stumbled to his feet, and stabbed his spear at the first creature.  he had brought friends, another two hounds growling and barking at him in the street.  blood poured from the wound on his shoulder, one that ached horribly.  his vision was blurry, but the children were still behind him.  he would not let the hounds reach them.

andreas swung, batting them away with his spear.  one creature made an effort to lunge, and cut the blade in its ribs.  another lunged, managing to slash him across the calf.  andreas fell to his knee, but stabbed the beast through the chest and it fell.

“watch out!”  the little girl shrieked, and andreas barely had time to deflect another hound’s attack with his spear.  his vision continued to swim, but he felt an overwhelming rage fill his chest.

“stay away!”  andreas bellowed, stabbing another beast through the chest.   it wasn’t fated to last, the final beast bypassing his spear entirely.  claws raked his chest, too deep.  andreas cried out in pain, stumbling backwards.  as his back hit the ground, he felt the hounds weight on top of him, the pain unbearable, the burden suffocating.  the edges of his vision went black, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.

he did not know how he did it.  his spear was not in his hand, his dagger back at his hip.  but his hands wrapped around the hilt of something -- a broom, broken and splintered.  with it, he stabbed the creature, again and again until the strength in his arm gave out.

the creature went still.  andreas dropped the broom, breath coming in tiny, sharp gasps.  outside the street was quiet, empty.  he closed his eyes.

“no... no, sir, please wake up.”  the girl cried, her voice distant and far away.  she shoved the creature from his chest, struggling as she went until her siblings joined in.  the three of them sniffled and wept, shaking him.  andreas felt pain, but relief too.  “wake up!”

in the distance, he heard the sound of voices.  “over there!”

a smile crossed andreas’ face.