Ocean Song liked his new hat.
It was not often that one came across a hat deserving to sit upon the head of a mighty cultivator like himself.
His robes billowed heroically with the pope hat on his head as he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Fellow Daoist, quick, get over here for the picture." He called out.
The angel that had accompanied him to Heaven was now standing unmoving next to him as Ocean Song held up his phone to take a picture of them both.
"Wonderful, a good addition to my collection that I will show my fellow sect members when I return home." He nodded to himself.
He looked back at the iconic square that shows up in various media when the Vatican is mentioned.
He adjusted his hat, very pleased with himself.
Ocean Song prided himself on his ability as an expert negotiator. How else was he able to get Heaven to capitulate to his demands!?
Truly, he was given much face as a proper cultivator.
Sure, he also got a 'Visitor's Pass' that essentially let him go anywhere he wanted in their territory. Something that would be a high honor for many any creature on the planet and something coveted, as very few exist.
And sure, it may be exceedingly rare, to the point where there may not be another on the planet. And yes, it shows that he does apparently have some amount of favor or goodwill from the more 'feared' faction in the world.
But all of that didn't matter.
Why?
Because he had a pope hat.
"Mommy, why is that man wearing a purple suit and the Pope's hat?" A young girl pointed at the posing Ocean Song.
"Don't point, sweetheart; it's rude." Her mom said in a hushed tone. "Some people are just weird, sweetheart. Make sure to stay away from him."
The woman quickly pulled her daughter out of sight.
In fact, most people were steering clear of him.
Ocean Song didn't take her words to heart.
Clearly, the little girl had eyes but couldn't see Mt. Tai.
"Come along, fellow Daoist. There are more sites to take in!" Ocean Song dragged the literal angel with him across the city.
The angel never once uttered a word of complaint or reacted at all to it. It was given the duty to be his 'bodyguard' for the duration of his stay, and it was performing that duty as instructed.
He just decided to take a tour of the Vatican.
With absolutely no ulterior motives whatsoever.
They quickly made their way across the large square and down the block to their next location.
Ocean Song, being such a high-profile cultivator, was, of course, given face and let through any sort of 'lines' or waiting.
That is, he used the Mist to obscure himself as he ignored everyone else waiting.
"Look, fellow Daoist! What a marvelous painting!" Ocean Song snapped a picture of the Sistine Chapel's most famous painting.
The angel looked at it expressionlessly.
"Look, Fellow Daoist, a face painter!" Ocean Song dragged the Angel outside again as he saw the artist.
Ocean Song stood stoically as he watched the artist paint the angel's face into a cat.
He gave the artist a big tip because he felt that the artist did a good job, if a bit abstract.
"Look, Fellow Daoist, McDonalds! The holiest of all McDonalds!"
They had lunch.
Unfortunately, Ocean Song found that they don't give the toys out to adults in the kids' meals.
And most unfortunate as well, his Karen technique seemingly was defeated by the experienced staff of this holy establishment.
"Look, Fellow Daoist! It's a keep out sign!" Ocean Song pulled the Angel to the far side of the palace that the Pope lived in.
The Angel stared blankly at the keep out sign on the metal gate that Ocean Song scaled, ignoring it completely.
The Angel's cat-painted expression didn't change at all as it slowly floated up over the metal bars and followed along.
Ocean Song adjusted his pope hat. "Fellow Daoist, play it cool."
Ocean Song clasped his hands behind his back as he strolled across the parking lot next to the palace.
A few of the Vatican's finest guards passed by without so much as giving them a look.
Truly, he was a master of stealth.
The Magical Mist also helped.
Ocean Song spotted his target not far away.
However, as he approached, his eyes widened because a certain elderly man walked out of the palace, escorted by an entourage.
The elderly man froze in place, and his entourage noticed his confusion.
The elderly man met Ocean Song's eyes, then his eyes trailed up to the hat on his head.
"Is that my hat?"
"We've been had! Leg it, fellow Daoist!" Ocean Song quickly ran towards the target of focus.
A white truck with a glass person-sized case on the back.
Otherwise known as the Popemobile.
"The keys are in the ignition; take the wheel, Fellow Daoist!" Ocean Song shouted as he climbed into the back.
[Line Break]
High upon the Heavens, Saint Peter went about his normal work.
The momentary distraction of a Cyclops coming to lodge a complaint was already far out of his mind as he handled his work.
"Let's see, John Turnip?" Peter looked up from his clipboard.
"Y-yes? Yes, I'm in Heaven! You're Saint Peter! I can't wait to meet Jesus!" The naked man stood in front of him.
"Yes, yes, it's very exciting. Let's just get your paperwork in order. Ah, there's a slight problem, hmm. It looks like you died while actively participating in tax evasion."
"...Tax Evasion?"
"Quite." Peter's lips thinned. "It's essentially theft, which is a sin. You're unfortunately going to be routed to a three-year stint in Purgatory while you purge your sins that were left unpaid in life. Pun not intended."
"I—"
He fell through the ground, and Peter barely spared it a glance.
"Next." Peter called out, but no one came.
Instead, he blinked and looked up as if someone was talking to him.
"Lord Metatron?" Peter asked.
There was no 'sound,' yet Peter's brow furrowed as if listening to something that only he could hear.
"I apologize, but I don't have much insight into the…Cyclops that I met earlier. Perhaps I could request you to elaborate so that I may be of more assistance?" He asked.
The 'room' around him shook slightly, but it didn't disorient the old Saint.
Though, it continued for a few moments before Peter grimaced. "Lord Metatron…" he called out.
Finally, there was an awkward throat clearing.
'I apologize. I often forget how to interact with humans after so long.'
The words reached Peter, and they were much less substantial. It wasn't as if they were being sent through the world and divinely inserted into his mind.
He was the most 'human' Angel, mostly because he was originally a human in some context. However, even he would 'forget' what it means to be human and need to correct himself, to lower himself down to their level to properly communicate.
The Voice of God was not actually speaking.
But it was the equivalent of him going from his normal conversational tone to barely a whisper so that Peter wouldn't be disoriented by the 'voice.'
'We express curiosity.'
"Curiosity?" Peter furrowed his brow still. Despite being a human who had existed in heaven for centuries and 'worked' here, his 'humanity' was important enough that it was retained compared to his compatriots.
His mannerisms, his speech, and his actions and words were preserved to continue to be human while being the face of heaven as the gates.
It was a mark of pride for Peter, and it was an understanding for everyone else to accommodate him.
'Favored by Death.'
"Ominous." Peter responded, though he could 'feel' Metatron's amusement as it was perceived by him.
There was another screeching that filled the area, and Peter winced slightly. He didn't say a word about 'speaking lightly' this time because what was conveyed wasn't something that could be spoken in human words even as he parsed it in his human mind.
"Unknown and outside?" Peter frowned because that wasn't quite right. He scratched his head but couldn't make heads or tails of it. "Is there something wrong with him?"
'Let it be what will be. Watch what can be.'
"That's entirely unhelpful." Peter grumbled.
Ironically, Peter wasn't being 'rude' despite how it came off. It was far from the first time that the Voice of God had interacted with Peter, and he preferred the bluntness of human speech.
"If you're looking for me to say if I noticed anything strange, then I can make a list." Saint Peter deadpanned. "I can start with him being happy to take the Pope's headpiece as compensation. I still don't know why that was allowed." Peter shook his head.
'Worldly items are of no importance.'
"It's the principal," Peter signed. "Besides, if it's of no importance, then why did he ask for it in the first place?"
'It is a nice hat.'
Peter had the strangest feeling that the Voice of God was making a joke.
Peter let out a sigh. "At least he can't cause trouble with it. It is just a hat after all."
As if to prove him wrong, the void in front of him shifted, as if he had a front-row seat to see what was happening down below.
"Fellow Daoist, right! Right, Fellow Daoist!" Ocean Song shouted in panic as the Popemobile did a sharp right turn to avoid a police blockade.
There were several police cars after them.
The Popemobile was not made to be moving at the speeds it was moving at, and every turn nearly had it flipping over on its side as Ocean Song led them on a chase through the city.
"....Why is Ambriel driving the stolen Popemobile through the Vatican while being chased by the local police with him in the back?" Saint Peter went straight to the point.
The 'view' in front of him changes.
It was now Ocean Song quickly getting into the Popemobile in a panic. "Fellow Daoist, take the wheel!"
Ambriel stood there outside the car, looking at it blankly.
"Fellow Daoist, quickly! Before the guards come!"
Off in the distance, the Pope and his entourage had a moment of confusion and bewilderment before they acted.
"Fellow Daoist, I understand your plight. But allow me to convince you. The Popemobile belongs to the pope. The Pope's hat belongs to the Pope. Only the pope is allowed to wear the pope hat. I am wearing the pope hat, and it's mine. Therefore, I am the owner of the Popemobile, and as the owner, I say, Please start the car and drive away; they're coming!"
Saint Peter opened his mouth wide as he watched Ambriel climb into the driver's seat, start the car, and drive away before the guards could get them.
They even rammed through a gate to escape.
"She believed that?" Peter asked.
'Her orders are to accompany him where he wants to go.'
"....."
"Bow before your new Pope!" Ocean Song shouted as they drove through the streets.
Saint Peter face-palmed.
The images seemed to orient themselves as he was watching what happened in the wrong sequence of events based on the first.
"Stop shooting at your pope!"
The police had taken to trying to shoot out the tires of the Popemobile.
Saint Peter opened his mouth for a moment before speaking. "The hat doesn't give him any actual authority, does it?"
'No.'
"Good." He nodded to himself, merely checking. "She's surprisingly good at driving. I wouldn't have guessed."
He would not have guessed that Ambriel knew how to drive so well. It seemed like such a mundane thing to know how to do for an Angel.
The 'view' in front of him collapsed and returned to normal.
"I apologize that I could not be of more help." Saint Peter said respectfully. "Is there something special or unique about him that we should be concerned about? It's not every day that a mortal catches the eye of one of you."
'Everyone is special and unique.'
Despite no words being spoken, they carried a tone of affection with them.
"I suppose they are." Peter said softly as he felt the presence of the Voice of God recede, indicating that he had 'left.' "But I find it unlikely that anyone is as unique as that idiot."
[Line Break]
Ares let out a long sigh as he dried his hair off.
Being a mortal was difficult sometimes.
It took well over an hour in the shower before he could get the smell of horse poop off him. And he didn't even have hot water!
He was almost entirely sure that it was Barnacle Beard who cursed his shower to not give hot water!
Still, he was at least allowed moments of rest.
With everything going on with Hercules and the gods, he was sort of glad that he didn't have to deal with it. He was still furious at the one responsible for his current punishment. Especially since he didn't actually steal the tree, but no one would believe him.
His family was running around trying to put out fires that his half-brother was starting, presumably, just for shits and giggles.
At the very least, it put a smile on his face seeing all of them panic and have to play cleanup while Hercules did what he did best.
Being Hercules.
Maybe it would do them good to remember how things used to be in the old days. When real heroes didn't drive across the country because an oracle gave them a prophecy. When real heroes were forged through blood and steel.
Everything was too hand-holdy for his tastes these days.
Hercules didn't get an oracle. He didn't grab a bunch of other demigods and use all their fancy gadgets and modern conveniences to downplay a significant portion of what made a quest a quest.
No, he charged right into the Gardens and beat the ever-loving shit out of the hundred-headed dragon and uprooted the tree—again—and walked away.
And then, what did he do?
He used one of the bigger branches to carve a new club, eat an apple, and flip everyone the bird.
That was how heroes should act, in Ares' eyes.
Obviously, he wouldn't let any of the brats disrespect them if they tried that shit. But he would at least remember them and acknowledge their sheer balls.
War favors the bold after all.
No, everything today was so…tedious.
Like they were just going through the motions compared to the old days. Trying to relive the same stories over and over and over again.
How many times were they supposed to get excited when one of their brats kills the Minotaur? How many times were they supposed to celebrate when one of their brats found the golden fleece?
That hadn't happened in over a hundred years, so by Ares' reckoning, it was due soon.
Ares grabbed a beer from the fridge, cracking it open as he sat down in his favorite chair and turned on the T.V.
Everything was going to shit up top, but since he was being 'punished,' it had nothing to do with him.
He shook his head as he took a drink, changing the channels until something caught his interest.
"Breaking News! We bring you live to a high-speed chase happening right this minute! As you can see, the Vatican Police are currently chasing after two individuals who have stolen the Pope's motor carriage." Ares spit out his drink because two faces appeared on the screen.
One of whom was the person responsible for his punishment in the first place.
"What the fuck!?" Was all he could say.
[Line Break]
A/N
The Pope hat isn't complete without his own Popemobile! And he technically owns it, or something along those lines.
If you want to read 1 chapter ahead or support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / astoryforone
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