The Stupidest Mistake They Ever Made

Crossover

Legend & Percy Jackson and The Olympians

A/N

I wrote this when I read the book Legend by Marie Lu and I just had to write this one-shot it would not leave my mind. I hope you guys like it. And I put this here cus well there is no section for the book Legend….yet. What's in italics is from the book and what's in italics/bold is what is in the book in italics what's normal Is what I added. (I hope that makes sense?) Oh and some stuff from PJO like a little.

June POV

When I was young, Metias was sometimes called away to deal with minor rebellions, and afterward he'd tell me about them. The story was always the same: a dozen or so poor folk (Usually teens, sometimes older) causing trouble in one of the sectors, angry about the plague quarantines or taxes. Several dust bombs later, they were all arrested and taken to court.

But I've never seen a riot like this one, with hundreds of people risking their live. Nothing even close to this.

"What's wrong with these people?" I ask Thomas. "They've lost their minds." We're standing on the raised platform outside Batalla Hall with his entire patrol facing the crowd in front of us, while of Commander Jameson's patrol is pushing people back with shields and batons.

Earlier, I'd peeked in on Day as the doctor operated on his leg. I wonder if he's awake and seeing this chaos on the hall monitors. I hope not. No need for him to see what he's started. The thought of him-and his accusations against the Republic, that the republic creates the plagues, kills kids who fail the Trial-fills me with rage. I pull my gun out of it's holster. Might as well have it ready. "Ever seen something like this?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

Thomas shakes his head. "Only once. A long time ago." Some of his dark hair falls across his face. It's not combed back as nicely as usual- he must've been out in the crowds earlier. One hand lingers on the gun strapped to his belt, while the other rests on a rifle slung around his shoulder. He doesn't look at me. He hasn't looked at me straight since he tried kissing me last night in the hall. "A bunch of fools," he replies. "If they don't back down soon, the commander will make them regret it."

I glance up to see several commanders standing on one of Batalla Hall's balconies. It's too dark now to be sure, but I don't think Commander Jameson is with them. I know she's giving orders through her mouthpiece, though, because Thomas listens intently with one hand pressed against his ear. But whatever she's saying is only for Thomas, and I have no idea what she's telling him. The crowd below us continues to push. I can tell from their clothes-torn shirts and trousers, mismatched shoes filled with holes- that almost all of them are from the poor sectors near the lake. Secretly, I will them to disperse. Get out of here before things get worse.

\ Thomas leans over to me and nods towards the center of the crowd. "See that pitiful bunch?"

I'd already noticed what he's pointing out, but still I follow his gaze politely. A group of protesters have streaked their hair scarlet, imitating the blood stained lock Day had when he stood out here for his sentencing. "A poor choice for a hero," Thomas goes on. "Day will be dead in less than a week."

I nod once but say nothing.

A few screams echo from the crowd. One patrol has made its way around to the back of the square, and now they have the crowd boxed in, pushing people in toward the square's center. I frown. This isn't protocol for handling an unruly mob. In school, we were taught that dust bombs or tear gas is more than enough to do the job. Bu t there's no sign of that-none of the soldiers wear gas masks. And now yet another patrol has started chasing away the stragglers gathered outside the square, where the streets are too chaotic and narrow to protest properly.

"What's Commander Jameson telling you?" I ask Thomas.

Thomas's dark hair falls across his eyes and covers his expression. "She says to stay put and wait for her command."

We don't do anything for a good half hour. I keep one hand in my pocket, absently rubbing Day's pendant. Somehow, the crowd reminds me of Skiz. There's probably even some of the same people.

That's when I see soldiers running along the tops of the square's buildings. Some hurry along ledges, while others are gathered in a straight line across the roofs. Odd. Soldiers usually have black tassels and a single row of silver buttons on their jackets. Their arm insignias are navy blue or red or silver or gold. But these soldiers have no buttons on their jackets. Instead, a white stripe runs diagonally across their chests and their armbands are gray. It takes me another second to realize who they are.

"Thomas." I tap him and point up to the roofs. "Executioners."

No surprise on his face, no emotion on his eyes. He clears his throat. "So they are."

"What are they doing?" My voice rises. I glance to the protesters in the square, then back up to the roofs. None of the soldiers have dust bombs or tear gas, Instead, each one has a gun slung around his shoulder. "They're not dispersing them, Thomas. They're trapping them in."

"Thomas gives me a stern look. "Hold steady, June. Pay attention to the crowd."

As my eyes stay turned up toward the roofs, I notice Commander Jameson step out onto the top of Batalla Hall flanked by soldiers. She speaks into her mouthpiece.

Several seconds pass. A terrible feeling builds up in my chest-I know where this is going.

Tomas suddenly murmurs something into his mike. A response to a command. I glance at him. He catches my gaze for a second, and then he looks toward the rest of the patrol standing on the platform with us. "Fire at will!." he shouts.

"Thomas!" I want to say more, but at that instant, shots ring out from both the roofs and the platform. I lunge forward. I don't know what I plan to do-wave my arms in front of the soldiers?-but Thomas grabs my shoulder before I can step forward..

"Stay back, June!"

"Tell your men to stand down," I shout, scrambling out of his grasp. "Tell them-"

That's when Thomas throws me to the ground so hard that I feel the wound in my side break open.

"Damm it, June," he says. "Stay back!"

The grounds surprisingly cold. I crouch there, for once at a loss, unable to move. I don't really understand what just happened. The skin around my wound burns. Bullets rain down on the square. People in the crowd collapse like levees in a flood. Thomas, stop. Please stop. I want to get up and scream in his face to hurt him somehow. Metias would kill you for this, Thomas, if he were alive. But instead I cover my ears. The gunshots are deafening.

The gunfire lasts only a minute, if that-but it seems like forever. Thomas finally shouts an order to cease fire, and those in the crowd who haven't been shot fall to their knees and throw their hands up over their heads. Soldiers rush to them, cuffing their arms behind their backs, forcing them together into clusters. I push myself up onto my knees. My ears still ring from the gunfire….I scan the scene of blood and bodies and prisoners. There are 97,98 dead. No, at least 120. Hundreds more are in custody. I can't even concentrate enough to count them.

Thomas glances at me before stepping off the platform-his face is grave, even guilty, but I know with a sinking feeling that he feels guilty only for throwing me to the ground. Not for this massacre he's leaving behind. He heads back toward Batalla Hall with several soldiers. I turn my face away so I don't have to watch him.

But before he enters the building the ground suddenly shakes. Alarms go off and Commander Jameson's voice rings out telling the soldiers not to panic.

Just as the soldiers start to drag the prisoners inside a shining white light illuminates the square and temporarily blinds me and the other soldiers.

As the light fades and my sight begins to return I see a small group of adults standing behind the dead crowd. And for some weird reason I feared them. I could literally feel power radiating off of them and that in it's self made me fear them and not including the deadly glares that they were sending our way.

I gulped in fright.

There were 14 adults altogether and they were standing together in what looked like a U. There were eight men and six women. In the middle there was what looked like a couple-a man in a dark pin-striped suit, a neatly trimmed black beard, and his eyes looked like they were sparking with energy. Next to him there was a beautiful woman with silver hair braided over one shoulder and a dress that shimmered colors like peacock feathers.

On the mans right there was a man in beach shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and sandals. He had a weathered, suntanned face with a dark beard and deep green eyes.

Next to him, a huge lump of a man with a leg in a steel brace, a misshapen head, and a wild brown beard, and was that fire flickering through his whiskers?

Another man was wearing nylon running shorts and a New York City Marathon T-shirt. He was slim and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sly smile.

Then next to him there was a tall and good looking young adult with sandy hair. He wore jeans and loafers and a sleeveless T-shirt.

A small, but porky man was next to him. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels-cherubs-he wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt and in his eyes I saw purplish flames.

Then there was a big man with a crew cut, a black leather biker's jacket, black jeans, a red muscle shirt, and combat boots and a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He had the cruelest, most brutal face I'd ever seen with a bunch of scars on his cheeks from being in many, many fights, He had wraparound shades on his head so that I could see his eyes or where his eyes should have been. Instead, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions.

And the last male was dressed in black silk robes, and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He had intense eyes mesmerizing filled with evil charisma. When the wind moved his robes, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls trying to get out.

On the ladies side a dark-haired woman in green robes stood next to the silver haired woman.

Next to her sat a beautiful gray-eyed woman in an elegant white dress.

Then next to her was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was wearing a red satin dress and her hair was curled in a cascade of ringlets. Her face was the most beautiful I'd ever seen: perfect makeup, dazzling eyes, a smile that would've lit up the dark side of the moon. Her hair and eye color kept changing from crystal clear blue eyes, to beautiful brown, to intense green, and a bunch of other colors.

Then another woman wearing a silver silk dress who had auburn hair gathered back in a ponytail and strange eyes, silvery yellow like the moon was next to her.

And last, but not least there was another woman with mousy brown hair and a simple brown dress. She wore a scarf over her head. Her eyes were filled with flames, but not like the other man whose eyes struck fear, these were almost warm and cozy and I would have felt at peace if her face didn't show anger.

And if the power radiating off of them and their glares weren't enough to frighten the soldier then this should because what they did next to human could do.

The One in the pin-striped suite was the one that talked first. "YOU MORTALS HAVE KILLED YOUR OWN KIND FOR SELFISH REASONS OF YOUR PITIFUL REPUBLIC!" His voice boomed.

All the soldier, even I cowered in fear.

Then the one with the silver dress spoke "YOU HAVE KILLED WOMEN, MOTHERS, AND YOUNG MAIDENS!"

"YOU HAVE KILLED CHILDREN AND TORN APART FAMILIES FOR YOUR SELFISH REASONS!" Spoke the gray-eyed woman.

"AND FOR THIS YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED!" spoke the man in the pin-striped suite

"All in favor?" he spoke a little lower

13 hand went up. The only person who didn't raise their hand was the biker man. The other adults glared at him. He flinched, but he still didn't raise his hand.

The man in the pin-striped suite sighed "WE HAVE A MAJORITY," he decreed in a much better mood (sort of he still looked mad) "THESE 'SOLDIERS' ARE NOW TO BE DECLARED DEAD! FOR THE UNFORGIVABLE DEEDS THEY HAVE DONE" he said glaring at us.

My jaw dropped 'There going to kill us?'

I watched as all 14 of them stretched out their arms.

"Nonsense!" yelled Commander Jameson "We have done nothing wrong! You can't kill us! You have no right!"

"On the contrary," Said the grey-eyed woman "We do have the right to kill you and don't talk to us about rights you had no right to do the evil deeds that you have done." And just as she finished those words they all began to chant in some unknown language.

Commander Jameson spoke into her mike.

"Fire!" yelled Thomas from behind me.

Suddenly bullets were raining down on the 14 figures. But as I watched the bullets never made it they just fell to the ground. I heard the soldiers cry out and I saw their guns fall apart in their hands.

The man with the tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt pointed at the prisoners and their hand cuffs fell off. They quickly got up and ran away in a panic.

Commander Jameson screamed in rage and reached for her gun. She pointed it at the man that released the prisoners. She locked eyes with him as she was about to shoot him. She never got to shoot him, because right at that moment when she locked eyes with him. She yelled madly as she had just seen something so terrible it made her go mad. She quickly ran to the edge of the roof.

"No!" yelled Thomas in anguish, just as she threw her self off the roof.

I quickly looked away so wouldn't have to see her broken body. Just as I turned away I heard a sickening crunch and I knew that she was now dead. I turned to look at the 14 figures and I suddenly knew that they were capable of immense things.

"Agh!" Thomas yelled "You'll pay for that" he took out his gun and pointed it at the man Jameson was about to kill. But he never got the chance either.

He dropped his gun and suddenly he grabbed at his abdomen in pain. "Agh!" he yelled in pain as he fell to his knees.

"No one draws a weapon against my family," spoke the woman with the simple brown dress-interrupting the chant for only a few brief seconds- "and lives" she said in anger.

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" Thomas yelled in pain and suddenly he erupted into flames.

I stood-or crouched-their as I saw him combust into flames. I felt sorry for him, but not too sorry. He was still a cold-blooded killer.

The soldiers screamed and started to run towards Batalla Hall. They never made it. Just as they were about to enter the hall the fourteen figures finished chanting. And a piercing white light suddenly exploded from where they had their arms outstretched.

I was once again blinded. I almost passed out from the surge of power that was created. I heard the soldiers scream in agony and then their screams were cut short. I saw the light dim and there was nothing left of the soldiers and Jameson's and the dead protesters bodies were gone.

I looked up as the group of adults approached me.

"Who are you?" I whispered in awe

"We," declared the man in the pin-striped suite "Are the Greek Gods, The Gods of Olympus!"

My mouth dropped in shock 'impossible' I thought as I looked at each of them in turn and as I looked at each one I sensed their power and I knew that it was true they are god's. But still the logical side of me couldn't believe it. So as I passed out and fell into darkness I whispered one last word "Impossible" The last thing I saw were the women looking at me pityingly.

A/N

OMG! This took me forever like a day and half! Well at least I'm done I hope you guys liked it! Oh and thank Rick Riordan for the descriptions of the Gods I took them from the books and I twisted a few of them like 1 or 2, but you can still thank him. And Marie Lu for my inspiration for this story. REVIEW!

Sincerely,

ExpertArcher