"Easy there," the man said, smiling as he wagged a finger at Marco. "You really are quite special. How about this, I'll ask you a question."
He swirled the wine in his clay goblet.
"How much do you know about gods?"
Gods.
Honestly? Marco didn't know shit about gods. But he knew plenty about lunatics.
By now, he was increasingly certain this guy was either mentally unstable or shitfaced. From experience, the most important thing when dealing with people like this was to keep them talking and calm, then suddenly move in and subdue them before they could react.
After all, this was Florida. No matter how harmless someone looked, you never knew what kind of crazy stunt they might pull. The armless guy with the sharpened toenails had taught him that lesson.
"Gods, huh? Yeah, I know a little. There's the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Saint Peter at the gates. Michael the Archangel. The Virgin Mary. Saint Francis—"
"Wait, wait." The man raised a hand to stop him, looking vaguely annoyed. "That's not what I mean. I'm asking how much you know about the Greek gods."
"Greek...?" Marco thought about it for a moment. "I know Athena, Poseidon, Hades, Apollo, Artemis..." He paused, trying to remember his high school mythology class. "Uh... Kratos?"
"...Kratos?" The man looked genuinely confused.
"Yeah, you know. Bald guy, really angry, kills gods with chains. I thought that was a whole thing." Marco shrugged. "Or wait, no... that's a video game character. My bad."
"Not those literary fabrications!" The man's smile was starting to crack around the edges. "I mean the god you place your faith in. The one you serve."
He lifted his goblet, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
"For example, when you drink fine wine, don't you thank the god who granted you such nectar?"
Marco looked down at his own beer bottle, then back at the man.
"Uh..." He shook the bottle slightly. "This cost me seven bucks, plus tax. Are you telling me God's running a racket at tourist bars now? Because if so, He's overcharging."
The man stopped smiling. Something dangerous flickered through his eyes, and his expression cooled several degrees. The air around him seemed to thicken.
"The gods granted you tolerance. Yet you fail to cherish it. When you are reduced to a beast rolling in the mud, remember the name, Dionysus. Repent to him day and night."
He pointed a finger directly at Marco's chest.
Marco felt... something. Like a ripple in the air, or the faint pressure change you get in an elevator. It washed over him, through him, and then it was gone.
He waited a beat.
Nothing happened.
"What the fuck was that?" He took a step back, looking down at himself. "Did you just spit on me?"
He wasn't entirely sure that's what had happened, but as long as the guy's brain was scrambled with confusion, he'd be easier to control. And right now, he needed every advantage he could get. This whole situation was setting off every cop instinct he had.
The man, Dionysus, apparently, was staring at him.
Marco didn't give him time to process it. He lunged forward and threw a straight right hook directly at the guy's face.
CRACK.
The punch connected perfectly, catching Dionysus on the bridge of his nose. Marco felt the satisfying impact of knuckles meeting cartilage, and blood immediately started pouring from the man's nostrils in streams.
Dionysus staggered back a step, his free hand flying up to his face. The goblet in his other hand sloshed wine over the rim, spattering his Hawaiian shirt. He touched his nose, then pulled them away to stare at the blood coating them.
For a moment, he just stood there, looking at his own blood like he'd never seen it before.
Then his expression twisted.
"You blasphemous insect. How could you attack a god!"
His voice lost all its earlier charm. He wiped his hand across his face, and Marco watched in growing alarm as the blood vanished. The broken nose straightened, the skin smoothed over, and within seconds there was no sign of injury at all.
"What the fuck," Marco muttered.
"I will turn you into the ugliest, lowliest crawling creature in existence!" Dionysus roared. "You will writhe in eternal filth, begging for my forgiveness!"
The air around him began to shimmer. That same pressure Marco had felt before returned, but this time it was stronger. Much stronger. The temperature seemed to drop and rise at the same time, and the smell of wine intensified until it was almost nauseating, like fruit left to rot in the sun.
He felt the invisible force hit him again. This time it was more than a ripple. It was like getting dunked underwater, pressure closing in from all sides, except the water was made of something thick. Static electricity crawled across his skin, making the hair on his arms stand up.
Then, just like before, it passed through him and dissipated.
He waited a couple seconds, checking his hands, arms, and face. Everything was still where it was supposed to be. No sudden transformation into an animal or whatever this lunatic was trying to do.
"That's it?"
Sure, he didn't believe in all this turning-people-into-animals bullshit. But that punch should have broken a normal person's nose. Hell, it had broken his nose, Marco had felt it. And then the injury had just healed. This guy wasn't normal. Whether he was a god or just some kind of superhuman with weird powers, he couldn't say. But he definitely had something going on.
"No!" Dionysus let out a shriek that was almost a sob. "This is impossible!"
His eyes had gone completely white, glowing with an inhuman light. The goblet slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground, wine spreading across the pavement.
"Even demigod heroes cannot resist my wrath! What are you?!"
The shimmer around him intensified. The crowd of revelers nearby started moving erratically, their dancing becoming spasmodic and violent. Someone screamed. The music from the street performers warped into discordant noise.
Marco's expression finally grew serious. Whatever this was, it was escalating fast, and the civilians around them were getting caught in the crossfire.
"Shit," he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for his phone. "I know you Florida people can really go wild, but I didn't think you could pull something this big..."
His fingers found the speed-dial he'd programmed months ago. The one labeled EMERGENCY ONLY.
So what if this guy claimed to be a god? He would call in the Man of Steel. The guy who could bench-press a planet and still show up for lunch with a smile. If gods were real and needed killing, Superman could handle it.
His thumb was hovering over the call button when Dionysus threw his arms wide.
"Mortal! You have utterly enraged me!"
The pressure in the air became crushing. Marco felt his knees buckle slightly under the weight of it. The civilians closest to them collapsed entirely, some passing out, others curling up on the ground with their hands over their ears. The music cut off abruptly. Even the waves seemed to quiet.
Destructive energy gathered around Dionysus.
"I will tear your soul apart and erase your very existence from this world!"
Marco's thumb pressed down on the call button.
Whoosh.
A streak of golden light shot across the square faster than Marco could track. It moved like it was alive, arcing through the air in a perfect half-circle before snapping tight around Dionysus' raised wrist.
It was a lasso.
The moment it touched Dionysus, the crushing pressure vanished like someone had flipped a switch. He let out a choked gasp, his eyes fading from pure white back to their normal color, though they were still filled with fury.
"Who?!" he snarled, spinning around.
Marco followed the lasso back to its source.
The crowd parted like a curtain being drawn back, and a woman strode through. She was tall with a presence that made everyone else in the square feel somehow smaller. She wore armor that looked like it had been forged in ancient Greece: a bronze breastplate with an eagle emblem, a dark blue skirt reinforced with leather and star patterns, and bracers on her forearms.
Her hair was black and long, pulled back from a face that could've been carved from marble. But it was her eyes that really caught Marco's attention. They were clear and fearless, like she'd seen every terrible thing the world had to offer and decided she could handle it.
She held the other end of the golden lasso in one hand.
"Diana..." Dionysus' voice had lost most of its fury. He shook his head slowly. "Of course it's you."
The woman, Diana, came to a stop a few meters away. She glanced first at Dionysus, then turned her attention to Marco. Her gaze swept over him. He saw surprise flicker through her expression, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
Then she looked back at Dionysus.
"Brother," she said quietly. "You must not display divine power in the mortal world."