Another of the Psychotic Calm series, my original creation. Just a little demonstration of what happens when my darlings go on missions on their own. This can fit into practically any part of the time-line after the Roman Guard incident, but for convenience’s sake, I’m just going to place it as anytime after the first Triad Wars.

Synopsis: Phobos contemplates about something interesting in the middle of a mission with Deimos.

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Thanatos once complained that they stole his title, and many others could not agree more. Phobos himself was more or less indifferent to the reference, though his partner was rather amused by it. But he had to admit, when either of them had their scythes out and making messy mass murder, they do represent the term ‘Death Gods’ rather well.

Watching Deimos weaved through the enemy with lethal grace and an even deadlier smile, spraying blood and pieces of flesh all over the place, was like watching a very twisted sort of dance. One where the accompanying music consisted mainly varying cries of pain. But watching it was how he came to understand why Deimos was said to be one of the best field assassins that Hades ever had, and the one that generally took care of the lethal forces’ operations.

Unlike those who simply savoured the thrill of killing or the fear of their victims, Deimos understood death on a level more profound than that, even for one who had dealt with it for more than half of his life. Perhaps it had to do with his mind-reading ability, allowing him to ‘hear’ the last things that went on in a dying person’s mind. Or maybe the reason stemmed from his own experiences. But no matter what reasons there are, death and Deimos had learnt to co-exist amiably.

Hearing Deimos’s wild laughter as he beheaded the last of the bodyguards, Phobos let a chilling smile curve his lips. For him, he and death respects each other and knows when to let the other do its job. Being the one who oversees the operations of the non-lethal forces, he had learnt many times over that death sometimes come unexpected and there was nothing they could do about it. But sometimes, when it got too frustrating, he would gladly grab the chance to dance the waltz of death alongside his partner.

“Phobos, the idiots in there are wetting their pants.” Deimos tilted his head, his silvery-blue eyes and wide curve of his mouth telling his amusement and contempt to the world as he stood before the single closed door at the end of the corridor.”Shall we make it worse? Hmm?”

“Remember that we need their written consent, and it has to be legible. Eres-sama complained about how the previous one looked like chicken scratching.”

“Righto.” Deimos surveyed the scene, the critical look in his eyes. “I can’t drag any of these in then. What a shame, I was very careful to make them gruesome.”

Phobos made his way through the path of bodies and body parts with the ease of one accustomed to such a situation, and before he passed Deimos and pushed the only obstacle to their intended targets away from them, the icy smile that had graced his face widened into something similar to that on Deimos’s face. “Well, you can always leave the door open.”

“Good idea.”