Two strong men drag a nearly unconscious Percy through the doorway of a creepy old house. They're dressed in all black and wearing hoods, practically blending into the shadows. At the end of the hallway, there's a door that looks as if it would be better suited for a submarine – metal, bolted to the wall, and with a spinning lock in the centre. The men toss him in the room and close the submarine door.
His head hurts like hell and he can still feel blood dripping down the right side of his face. His nose is broken and he's sure to have a black eye in the morning. Just as he's about to close his eyes and sleep off the pain, he becomes very aware of flowing water; it's nearby and – if he's sensing correctly – rushing through a pipe. Moments later, he's sitting in a cold puddle roughly an inch deep.
Percy jerks his head around quickly – (bad idea) – and searches for a source. He's not sure where the water is coming from originally, but it's definitely entering the chamber through a hole in the wall to his left.
He has an idea what the submarine door was for.
It takes approximately four minutes for the water to reach his neck; forty five seconds more and he's swimming. He's aware of the rapidly approaching ceiling – metal, like the door – and of the fact that the water doesn't feel normal – it's heavy and dark and there's no way he's going to be able to breathe in it.
Soon there's just enough room for his head (and only if he tilts it back).
Once the chamber is completely filled with dark water, Percy hurriedly swims over to the submarine door. It's the single way to escape and he has to figure out how to open it before he runs out of air. Unfortunately, it looks like the door can only be opened from the outside.
That could be a problem.
He lasts longer than most, that's for sure. It's a good six and a half minutes before his head starts feeling light and his lungs begin to burn. Of all the ways to die, drowning was definitely not one he had ever envisioned.
The slight burning in his lungs rapidly escalates and then he can't even see through the pain. His entire being is in pure agony.
So he screams.
They're surrounded by battle. Jason observes as the two camps tear at each other with swords, arrows, and metal dogs. Leo and Piper stand on either side of him, simultaneously watching the fighting and his back. Both sides feel betrayed – the Romans are miffed that he joined the Greeks so easily, and the Greeks don't understand why he still feels connected to the Romans. It doesn't help that Octavian became Praetor during his absence and apparently spent every waking moment drilling it into the legion's heads that they hate Greeks – that they must kill Greeks.
A couple of centurions and one kid from Camp Half Blood run at them, wielding weapons and determined faces. Piper and Leo fight them off so well that Jason doesn't even need to lift his gladius.
It's raining as Sally drives towards New Jersey. Paul's parents have invited them home for the weekend, and he's meeting her at Newark Liberty after his flight lands. The road is a wee bit slippery, but she's had her license for nearly twenty years. It's hardly a problem. She switches on the headlights and increases her speed – she hasn't passed another car on the slightly curvy back trail for miles.
It happens in a split second: a small animal – a raccoon maybe? – darts onto the road and in front of her car. Swerving to avoid running over it, she loses control on the slick pavement and the SUV slides a few feet before hitting a fence and tumbling down a hill. She rotates six times, surrounded by shattered glass from the windows and the contents of her purse. At some point, she whacks her head on the steering wheel and slams right back into the headrest.
The car stops, and so does Sally.
Several hours later, most of the combat has ceased. The valley is littered with dead bodies, abandoned weapons, and mourning peers. Jason spots a young girl from the Hecate cabin crying as she tries to bring her older brother back to life. It doesn't work.
Leo is silent, for once, and Piper is perceptive enough to know when not to talk. They each take his hand in theirs and examine the battlefield. There aren't as many orange shirts as there are purple, but the Romans had more warriors to begin with. Jason spots a familiar blonde storming up the hill, rapier in hand. His expression is nothing short of murderous.
He whispers for his best friends to get behind him, but neither let go of his hands. He's grateful.
Octavian reaches their (apparently not-so) hidden perch and stops two feet in front of them. There's a speech, full of wild expressions and exaggerated gestures. It's nothing Jason didn't expect, but he lets the other boy have a moment or two of glory. His silence angers the Praetor further and seemingly faster than lightning, he has his long sword pointed straight at them.
Jason closes his eyes as the tip pierces his stomach and emerges from his spine.
Annabeth makes her way to the top of the mountain. It overlooks the ocean – one of the most beautiful views in all of New York. The wind is strong, whipping her curls in and out of her face constantly. Thunder rumbles overhead; a storm is coming. She reaches the edge of the cliff – there's a ninety-degree drop and one hundred feet between her and the waves.
Turning back around so that she's facing the forest she came from, she spreads her arms, closes her eyes, and flies.
A/N: everyone died at the exact same time and I don't know whether to laugh or cry
Disclaimer: PJO/HoO belongs to RSquared and this piece was inspired by Timshel, property of Mumford and Sons (fabulous song by the way… go have a listen)
Note: sometimes I feel like I would be a wonderful filmmaker – I saw this so clearly in my head