Misty What’s love got to do with it? If you’re Cupid, everything. If you’re me, not a thing in the sea. I don’t believe in love. Poseidon is smoking some bad seaweed if he expects me to take the one job I’m obviously not qualified for. Rumor has it, Cupid is a chubby baby with a bad attitude. That’s all I need. A pissed off porcine toddler with love arrows gunning for my tail because I took his job. On top of that, the idiot I’m kind of seeing who shall remain nameless—mostly because I don’t know his name… don’t judge—left red and silver magic all over my skin and hair last time we… umm…went on a date. And guess what? It doesn’t wash off. Poseidon saw me sparkling away and now I’m freakin’ Cupid. Getting to the bottom of this abyss means finding what’s his name and thrashing his fine, smexy behind with my fin. Why does this send shivers of delight all the way to the tip of my tail you might ask? I have no clue and no time to figure it out. Don’t judge. I’m about to give love a bad name. Cupid Love is a fool’s game. Or at least I thought so for the past millennium. Getting fired by a slightly inebriated God of the Sea isn’t so bad as long as you can find your way past the slurring of his words. Finding out Poseidon’s replacing me with the Mermaid I’ve been seeing for the past fifty years is an arrow straight to the heart. And not the good kind. No big deal, right? I’ll just go to her and explain the job is mine. End of story. Of course, it could get a bit awkward since we never actually exchanged names. I’m Cupid and will always be Cupid. Sure, I may have slacked off a little and caused a tear in the abyss that may have possibly let some Demons through to this plane. I mean, who doesn’t let that happen every now and again? But the word around Mt. Olympus is that said Demons are coming for Cupid. And if she’s Cupid and I’m not, then they’re coming for my Mermaid. Unacceptable. It might be a battlefield—but in the name of love, I’ll fight for this crazy little thing.