[ WP ] Any story NOT involving Abrahamic mythology . Ideas included in text .

“ It's a spear. ” 
 
 “ I can see that, Smitty. The more important question is what are we going to do with it? ” 
 
 Smitty just shrugged and waved the spear around some more. It hummed with energy every time her spun it. A strange, blue lightning was left in its wake and, whenever he stopped moving it, there was a mighty crack of thunder. Really, it was the kind of thing that we had no business playing with, but here we were anyway. Playing with Lugh's Spear in our modest kitchen. 
 
 The Irishman lay dead at our feet. He'd put up something of a fight, but it had all gone out of him when Smitty had taken the spear from his hands. Brutal, short, and bloody. I think that about sums up the fight once that spear had changed hands. Of all the gods we'd fought in the past there was none we had beaten as easily as this guy. 
 
 “ Put it down, will you? ” 
 
 “ I would. But listen to me Steve... will you listen? ” 
 
 “ I'll listen. ” 
 
 “ Good. I think that this spear might be magical. ” 
 
 I eyed the lightning carefully. “ You think? ” 
 
 “ Well, it's easy to say that when you can see the lightning, but I'm talking about the sheer power of the thing. It feels as though I can do things like this. ” 
 
 He lowered the spear to the ground, crouching down until his stomach was almost touching the floor. And then – he jumped. The spear shot up, carrying him high through the window. For a second he became a lightning bolt, soaring into the blue sky. I glanced down at where Smitty had been standing seconds before. A burnt black patch of soot with two clean, feet-shaped spots. 
 
 It took a full twenty minutes before Smitty came back to earth in a flash of power. By that time I was sitting comfortably in one of our wooden chairs, the one that had n't been burned when Cerberus got loose. There were two cups of tea – one for him and one for me – cooling on the table. Smitty took his and sat opposite me, leaning against the spear. 
 
 “ So it's definitely magical then? ” 
 
 “ Oh boy yea. It flies and everything. ” Smitty took a sip of tea. 
 
 “ That's good. What are we going to do with it? ” 
 
 “ Well, I was thinking, and I know this might sound stupid, but I was thinking long and hard. I think we should return it. ” 
 
 “ But it's a magic spear. I googled it while you were gone. Turns out that “ no battle will ever be sustained against he who carries it. ” I think that means that if you use that spear you'll always win. ” 
 
 “ But, ” Smitty took another sip. He had a habit of pausing dramatically whenever he had bad news, and that had built an almost Pavlonian response in me. That pause caused me to freeze in terror. You see, when we have bad news, we're talking apocalypse-level bad news. You see, we hunt gods, and more often than not, they like getting revenge. So far there's been a fair few ups and downs in our lives. And the days involving Gods? They're usually downs. 
 
 “ But? ” 
 
 “ But there are four of these things. A stone that shouts the name of the High King of Ireland, a spear that wins every battle, and a cauldron that never goes empty. ” 
 
 “ That's three. I know that because I can count. ” 
 
 Smitty nodded. “ The fourth... It's a sword. If you unsheath it then it guides your hand until you kill someone. No avoiding it, you will kill your target. ” 
 
 “ How do you know this...? ” 
 
 “ Well, when I was Lightning, I got talking to the clouds. Turns out that's something lightning can do. ” 
 
 I nodded. Of course that was a thing lightning could do. Why would it be any other way? 
 
 “ And what did the clouds tell you? ” 
 
 “ That the Tuatha dududanandan... The Irish Elves are angry at us for killing Lugh. They're sending someone with the sword to take revenge. We would win the battle but, well... One of us would die. Gon na be straight with you, Steve, I do n't want to die. ” 
 
 “ Neither do I. ” 
 
 We took another sip of tea each. It was the good stuff, the sort of tea that made our student loans cry. Yum. 
 
 “ So what's the plan? ” 
 
 “ I was thinking I would turn into lightning, fly to the Fae Lands and give the Spear back before the man with the - ” 
 
 The door exploded inwards. Standing there, the storm behind him casting a long shadow across the floor, was a slender figure who positively rippled with muscle. I swallowed the tea that was burning my mouth and stood up. 
 
 “ Smitty. ” 
 
 “ Yes Steve? ” 
 
 “ I think he's here. ” 
 
 The Tuatha took a step into our flat, smashing open part of the door with that two handed sword, his eyes blazing with hatred. 
 
 “ You killed Lugh, ” he bellowed. “ I'm here to claim the blood oath. ” 
 
 “ Smitty. Fly to the Fae Lands. Right now. I'll hold him off as long as possible. ” 
 
 “ But you do n't have a weapon. ” 
 
 I reached across the table for the first weapon I could find. My hand closed around the handle, and I lifted it to protect myself. It was bright yellow. A floral pattern. 
 
 “ I do n't need a weapon, ” I muttered, “ I have a teapot. ” 
 
 ** [ Edit: Sorry for the cliffhanger there. Do you want some more? Have some more. ] ** 
 
 Goodness knows what our neighbours thought. Two nice students and one control freak – Sara was away for half term – had been living quietly next door for almost a year. Occasionally there would be a party, or large fire breathing dog, but other than that, nice people. Nice neighbours. 
 
 Steve, they would say, now there's a nice boy. He has potential. Smart. 
 
 And Smitty? He's nice too. Works hard, always pays the bills. Steals our milk occasionally but he always leaves the money for it. Does n't bother us too much because, quite frankly, we do n't drink all that much of it. 
 
 That's probably what they thought before my battle with the Tuatha. 
 
 Afterwards... Well, they probably thought some very different things. 
 
 That Smitty? Turned into lightning, somehow, and burned up all of our washing when he flew off into the sky. Do n't know how he did it but he never thought to pay us back. 
 
 And Steve! What a bastard. He broke through our wall, waving a teapot around and shouting at an elf. Then, to make, matters worse, he through the teapot at us. I think he was aiming for the elf but it does n't matter. It's not intentions that matter, it's actions. And he scalded poor old Mabel with boiling hot tea. 
 
 I did n't see their faces, or hear what they were screaming, at the time. I was too busy stumbling around grabbing at things to defend myself with. Like a lamp. I held it up and tried my best to parry a singing swipe from Nuadu's Sword. Sparks flew as the wires met other-worldly, ethereal sword and blew the fuse. I do n't know enough about science to know what that always happens but let me give you a little bit of advice. If you ever fight a god make sure they do n't touch your electrics. Insurance companies very rarely pay out. 
 
 Smitty had long since left, leaving me alone with - 
 
 “ I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD, STEVE OF ENGLAND. ” 
 
... a Tuatha De-Danann. Mystical Irish fae who just... You know what? It does n't matter. I was scrabbling towards the window, desperately trying to ignore the whirlwind of destruction that was following me. My neighbours were hiding behind a sofa. 
 
 “ You're a poet, are n't you? ” 
 
 Another swing of the sword. A coffee table was cleft in twain. 
 
 “ I mean, historically. Your people are poets... ” 
 
 I was climbing out of the window now, trying not to look down. It was a two storey drop down to hard concrete far below. Burned washing flapped in my face as I edged along the outside of the building. 
 
 The Tuatha was close behind, leaning out of the window, shouting after me, that sword pointed at my head. 
 
 There was no escape. 
 
 – 
 
 Smitty was lightning. He told me as much later, describing in intricate detail how he had taken a turn at the ninth star over Ireland, then dove straight into the ground. 
 
 Apparently the trip to the Fae Lands was breathtaking. Upon arrival a man calling himself True Thomas had greeted him, recited a poem, and led him to the Harem of the Elf Queen. I can imagine it was a truly terrifying experience. 
 
 – 
 
 Do n't ask how I survived the fall. I did some things involving a washing line and a recycling bin that I am not proud of. 
 
 What matters is that, as Smitty was enjoying his otherworld adventures, I was sprinting madly across a carpark, broken teapot in one hand, broken lamp in the other and an egg carton sitting on my head. Nuadu was watching me from the window, brow furrowed as he tried to work out the fastest way to get to me. 
 
 It did n't take him long to work out. Shouting in rage, he jumped through the wall – yes, the wall, he left a Tuatha-shaped hole behind him – and landed not far away on the concrete. I felt the shockwave push me forwards, driving me down to my knees. Crying out in pain, I pushed myself back up to my feet, feeling blood begin trickling down my shins. 
 
 “ STEVE OF ENGLAND - ” 
 
 “ Just call me Steve! ” I shouted, not daring to look back. You see there was a vengeful god-thing back there and... I do n't know why I'm explaining that. If you're reading this far you should know that. Or you've skipped ahead to see if the story gets any better. Now, if you're one of the second types of people, shame on you. 
 
 Shame. 
 
 I turned a corner and found myself on the high street. There was the bar where we fought Chronos. An advert for the Zoo where Smitty killed the World Serpent was on a parked bus. A battered yellow car reminded me of the kind that Thor had once thrown at my head. Such a small town but a hundred memories of Gods all trying to kill me. 
 
 And now, just behind me, was another one.
