Authors Note- So this is my first time publishing anything, I'm not really even sure if this story is going to go anywhere further but I'd really like to know what people have to think about my writing style and the idea in general so please R&R Thanks and I hope you enjoy
Disclaimer- I own absolutely nothing Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan while anything from Warhammer 40,000 belongs to Games Workshop.
Annabeth woke up knowing that it would be a shitty day. It wasn't anything in particular that gave her the feeling. It was simply that every day, and she meant every day, before had been shitty and there was no reason that this one should be different. Two years. Two entire years of shitty days. Two years since she had woken up in her bed to find Percy not there. Two years since her boyfriend and three of her best friends had vanished.
It was exactly one year since they'd burned the shrouds. There had been four of them, and every single demigod, Roman and Greek, had been present for the ceremony. Jason's had been half purple and half orange, with a gold lightning bolt, Leo's was red with a hammer and anvil, Frank's had been purple with a sheathed sword. Percy's had been sea green with a trident emblazoned across it.
Given everything that had happened since, it seemed petty to still be broken up by the death of just one person, but even though in the year since those shrouds burned over two billion human beings had died, she still felt an unending ache in her heart at the memory.
The day after the shrouds burned; that was the day the world changed.
That next day Annabeth and everyone she knew were thrust into a new war. Every human being on Earth was thrust into the war. It was that day that humanity learned that it was not the only intelligent species in the universe. In fact they weren't even the only humans in the universe. Or to be accurate the only humans in the multiverse.
Shaking off memories of the past she sat up on her cot. She rubbed her face with her hands, attempting to clear some of the grit from her sleep deprived eyes. She glanced around the bunker she shared with some of her other officers, letting her eyes adapt to the dim, flickering light. She swung her legs of the bed and stood up, reaching her arms up in a stretch. She glanced over at the small, barely visible clock on the wall. 4:30 a.m. it said. She'd slept barely 4 hours.
She bent over and grabbed her Battle Dress Uniform. She hauled the battered and grimy BDU's on, wincing as they rubbed over her myriad of scratches, burns and other barely patched up wounds. Her combat harness, with its load of spare ammunition, grenades, and canteens went on over the uniform. She picked up her Kevlar helmet, pulled it on over her blonde hair, and buckled the chin strap. Lastly she pulled on her thick woolen socks and heavy Army issue combat boots.
She collected her weapons, her FN Scar assault rifle, the Imperial issue Laspistol and her drakon bone sword all had their place on her rig. At last, when she was fully equipped she turned around to look at the one personal item tacked to the wall above her cot. It was a photo. It was old and slightly faded. It showed a young man with black hair and sea green eyes, he was laughing at something while he sat on the rear gate of a moving van piled with boxes. Annabeth felt the ghost of a smile on her lips and heard the echo of his laugh in her ears. She reached a hand out and touched the picture. Then she straightened her shoulders and walked out of the bunker. Out into another day of fire, another day of death.
As she climbed out of the officer's dugout and into the communication trench she could hear the dull crash of distant artillery fire. It sounded as if it was coming from the North, somewhere in the direction of Yonkers and New York's main defensive line. The entrenchments she and her troopers held had been constructed by both American Army Corps of Engineers and Imperial Combat Engineers to cover the rear door of the main defenses on Long Island. They consisted of a series of trenches and bunkers cutting through the rubble and remnants of buildings. She followed the trench to the Battalion Command Post, acknowledging the few troops that passed her with nods.
She was essentially running on autopilot, her brain simply guiding her through the trenches by instinct rather than any conscious thought. Instead her mind thought back over everything that had happened in the last year.
The smoke from the pyres still hung in the air. Most of the demigods, gods, and other guests had drifted away. Only a handful remained, the oldest, the friends who had lived, laughed and loved with the four fallen heroes the longest; one by one they said their goodbyes and drifted away. At last there were only ten left, Annabeth, Piper, Hazel, Calypso, Rachel, Thalia, Sally, Paul, Chiron, and Poseidon. Piper leaned on Hazel sobbing softly, silent tears coursed down Hazel's face. Annabeth's tears had dried hours ago. She had reached a point beyond tears, beyond simple sadness, there was a pit in her stomach where Percy used to be and she had no idea what to do next.
She turned to Rachel. "What happens now?"
"I- I don't know," said Rachel, her voice catching in her throat "I-" She stopped suddenly and began to shake as green smoke poured from her mouth:
When fire and flame rain from the skies
It is in the hands of the fallen that the world lies.
The guardians of life stand steadfast
and the heroes of olympus fight to the last.
Wisdom's child and a Phantom shall unite
To end the darkness and bring the light.
Annabeth and the others stared at Rachel, only Poseidon reacted quickly, catching Rachel as she collapsed in her typical post prophecy state. What shocked Annabeth even more than Rachel's prophecy was the expression on Poseidon's face. He looked terrified.
She was so lost in thought that she crashed into someone exiting the CP as she walked in. "Sorry," she said, shaking her head as she stood up.
"You know Chase you should be more careful," said a familiar voice.
Annabeth looked up and found herself staring into the dark eyes of Nico di Angelo.
"I'll try Nico," she said with a grin, "of course around here careful is a relative term."
Nico let out a grim chuckle at her bad attempt at humor and leaned against the trench wall, shifting the massive sniper's rifle on his back. "Too true that," he said, scratching at the rough growth of stubble on his face, "of course there's the careful you can control and the stuff you can't."
Annabeth smiled her own gallows humor smile, "Like how I can control how carefully I walk around the trenches but not the odds of some damn missile wiping away my foxhole?"
"Exactly!" said Nico, "Anyway I should probably get back to my boys,"
"Good luck Nico, take care of yourself," said Annabeth giving the younger man's shoulder a squeeze.
"You to, Captain Chase," he said, bracing himself to attention in a gesture of respect only slightly marred by the slightly mocking grin on his face.
"Get out of here, Lieutenant Di Angelo," she said with a disapproving glare though her heart wasn't in it. Nico gave an unrepentant grin and turned away to head back to his company's position on the line.
Annabeth stared at his retreating back for a second or two and then took a deep breath. She and Nico had reached an understanding a long time ago. Neither one would bring up Percy with the other and whenever the other was around they would act as if they were both completely ok. So while to some their back and forth sniping might almost be confused for flirting, to them, and to those who knew them, it was an obvious defense mechanism.
She turned, squared her shoulders and stepped through the open door into the command bunker. The low ceilinged room was crowded with people, chairs, radio equipment, and weapons. Annabeth slipped through the crowd to get next to the large map table in the center of the room.
"Morning Captain," said a corporal as he adjusted a marking on one of the maps, "Have a cup of coffee?"
Annabeth muttered a greeting and gratefully accepted a drink that had only had a passing relationship with a coffee bean but at least was hot, but she was focused intently on the maps to care about the normal terrible coffee. Friendly positions were marked in blue on the maps and those of the enemy were marked in red. The smaller map that showed the positions of her own units hadn't changed since the last time she'd checked but the larger one, which showed the entire New York defensive perimeter looked distinctly different. An ugly red splotch bulged into a the thin line of blue that marked the main defensive line at Yonkers, and if the map was accurate it looked as if at least the first two lines of defensive works there had been taken.
"Doesn't look to good does it Cap?" said a voice from behind her.
"No, no it doesn't," said Annabeth shooting the speaker a worried look.
"Don't worry ma'am," said the speaker as he stepped up next to her, brushing some of his vibrant red hair from his face. "The main line will hold, and I think the counterattack will have taken most of it back by now." He gestured to the distant crash of artillery to demonstrate his point.
Annabeth just shrugged, deciding to take his word on it. If there was one thing she had learned it was that she could trust the judgment of the tall redhead standing next to her. Second Lieutenant Jonathan O'Neill- commander Second Platoon, Alpha Company, 2091st Imperial Engineering Battalion, 2091st Imperial Infantry Regiment- was perhaps the only reason she, and her troops, were still alive. His platoon, along with Lieutenant Raizo Takahashi's platoon of Imperial Regulars, were by far the most experienced, best armed, and best trained troops under her command. Not to mention O'Neill's knowledge of engineering and explosives rivaled the entire Hephaestus Cabin put together.
"So," she asked, "anything major happen last night?"
The Lieutenant shook his head, "No, not really, a bit of light skirmishing and a few flare ups. We got some more mines and concertina wire laid in, mostly just replaced what we lost in the last attack."
Annabeth nodded her head, "Where's Thalia?"
"Captain Grace is catching some rack time, I figured you'd be up soon and Raizo and I could handle anything that came up in the interim."
"Good," said Annabeth, "she needed the rest. Speaking of which when was the last time you got some sleep Jonathan? You aren't looking so good." That was possibly the understatement of the century, the Lieutenant looked like he hadn't slept in days. Which probably meant he hadn't slept in weeks. How he failed to show the strain would forever be a mystery to the daughter of Athena
"I'm alright," he said shaking off her concern, "I've got my stim-tabs, and besides with all my uh-" he paused with a grin, "enhancements I can go rather a long time without sleep. Not to mention I've definitely had worse."
Annabeth wasn't fully convinced but she had to figure that the Lieutenant knew what he was talking about. It was hard to remember sometimes that this young man, who looked like he could be her kid brother, was actually a genetically enhanced super soldier from another planet, in fact another universe entirely, who had been fighting and killing for at least 300 years.
Maybe it was just because of the day, but as she turned her gaze back to the map she found herself flashing back again to the day Rachel gave her prophecy.
Annabeth finally was able to break free of her stupor and rushed to Rachel's side, gently lifting her friend out of the sea god's arms. She was concerned for her friend, but that look of absolute fear on Poseidon's face scared her even more.
"Lord Poseidon?" she asked gently, speaking the way one would with a spooked pegasus, "What is it? Do you know what Rachel's prophecy was about?"
The Olympian however ignored her, and began muttering to himself, "Guardians of life? No it can't be… but that would mean… no it just can't…" Suddenly, the god straightened up.
"I'm sorry, but I must go." he stated, Annabeth could tell he was trying to sound more confident than he really felt. "I must tell my fellow Olympian's of this development and then there are others we must consult. Do not tell anyone of this prophecy, I will return and tell you more when there is more to tell." Then with a flash he was gone, leaving only the faint smell of salt water and the feeling of an ocean breeze.
"Chiron?" Annabeth asked quietly.
"I don't know child, I truly don't." said the centaur, a worried look on his face. "I have an idea but I hope it is wrong." He paused and once again all the demigods were struck by how truly old Chiron was. "The only thing I know for certain is that the prophecy will center on you my girl." With that he trotted off, a sad look on his face. The others had had no idea what to say, they were simply far too drained to even consider discussing a new prophecy for the future, so they had followed Sally's suggestion and simply gone their separate ways, carrying out the plans they had made for the funeral day as if nothing else had happened.
The next day Chiron sent a message out to all the heads of cabins, along with the officers of the Twelfth Legion, to gather at the Big House. When they'd all arrived they'd found Chiron waiting for them on the front porch, accompanied by Mr. D, Poseidon, Artemis, and a man none of them had ever seen before. The man was tall, easily over six feet, he would probably have been handsome Annabeth thought if it not for the horrible scars across his face. The man wore a jet black military uniform that neither Annabeth nor any of the other demigods recognized, what she did recognize about the uniform was that the man's chest was a rainbow of medals.
"Chiron, what's going on? Who is this?" Annabeth asked, speaking for all the assembled demigods.
"Annabeth this," Chiron paused as if unsure what to say, "this-" he stopped again. Annabeth was starting to be concerned, she'd never seen Chiron as lost for words as he was in that moment. Luckily for Chiron the military officer stepped in.
"I'm Major General Alexander Tresca."
"And the prophecy Rachel issued is about him." said Poseidon.
A chorus of murmurs broke out among the assembled campers which quickly died down when Annabeth spoke again, surprise in her voice, "Which part of the prophecy?"
"The guardians of life part," said Artemis. "Of course it's not just about him. It's about all the others like him."
"Hey Cap' you doin' alright?" said Lieutenant O'Neill, snapping Annabeth from her memory.
"Yeah… yeah I'm fine, just a little tired I guess," Annabeth replied stumbling over her words slightly.
"If you say so, Cap'," said the Lieutenant, not looking convinced.
"Well," said Annabeth, standing suddenly and shaking her head, "I'm going to head out and check the lines, see how everyone's doing."
"Roger that Cap, I can hold down the fort here at the CP for now."
Annabeth turned to the burly corporal in the corner, who was shrugging on a bulky radio as if the fifty pound weight was nothing. "So Butch," she said a slight smile on her face, "you ready to live dangerously again?"
The muscular son of Iris laughed and shook his head, "You are so getting me killed one of these days Annabeth."
A few weeks ago Lieutenant O'Neill would have been offended by a non-commissioned officer addressing an officer by her first name but he'd learned that military courtesy tended to take a back burner with these half-bloods. So now he just quirked an eyebrow and grinned at Annabeth.
"Come on Butch," said Annabeth with a matching grin
"To hear is to obey ma'am," said the Sergeant with a tone of a long suffering teacher speaking to a favored pupil.
The tone was light but there was as a subtle rebuke of some of Annabeth's recent behavior; ever since Percy had vanished she had begun to act more and more like him, more care free, less serious, like she thought that if she acted like Percy then he really wouldn't be dead. That was good to an extent, it meant she hadn't let grief break her, that she was still fighting, but there was a dark side; she had started to take risks, taking chances with her own life that she never would have if Percy was around. The other demigods were starting to get worried. It wasn't just that if Annabeth got herself killed it would reduce their chances of ever surviving this hell even further, but she was a friend, and for the children of Olympus there had been far too many friends lost over the last year.