Percy P.O.V.
It was a normal day for the most part. I saw Annabeth, battled a few people for a seat on the subway, almost got hit by pizza delivery guys on bikes, these men in black kidnapped me...
It all started that morning. I was going about my normal demigod business when I got a bad vibe having already exited the Empire State Building, I stopped and searched for what was making my skin itch, but what I found was just normal New York crowds: a few joggers running in place while they waited for the crosswalk light to change; a mom tugging on her kid, who seemed set on scampering into traffic; and two men in cheap, black suits. I found myself staring at them. Not because they were guys in suits, and fairly creepy looking, but because they seemed to be looking straight back at me.
They weren't doing anything suspicious. Actually, they weren't doing anything, just standing with their hands behind their backs. Thick black sunglasses covered their eyes, making it impossible to determine where they were veritably looking. A thin, curly wired headpiece rested in both suits' ears, a similarly short haircut. They were big guys, reaching over six feet, with muscles that could counter any Cyclopes. The muscles in their arms strained against the tight cloth, their shoulders slightly hunched from the excessive mass in their backs.
I shook my head, trying to shake away the feeling that they were following me, and started down the street, opposite of the menacing suits. I slid my headphones in, pulling up my red hoody and half-jogged, half-walked to the nearest subway entrance, my hand unconsciously slipping towards my pocket.
I tried to ignore the men as they stood a few feet from me in the station, even when they took a seat in the train car one down. I had to stand, the seats all taken, and I saw them from the corner of my eyes, not talking to each other, just there.
I couldn't fathom what they wanted, and I was debating confronting the two men at my stop, but I didn't have to. The men disappeared before I could, so I shrugged it off to a coincidence.
Mistake number one.
I ran out of the subway, nearly plowing down an old woman with a cane. I yelled an apology behind me and continued to take the stairs three at a time. My mom had told me to be home early for Paul's birthday and I only had five minutes to get two blocks.
The air was crisp, cold for this early in the season. Clouds hung ominously above head, the street lights already flickering on in the dark. For New York, the streets were relatively deserted. No one was walking, there were no homeless, no passing cars, almost complete silence on the block. I turned in a circle, dumbstruck.
Thinking back, I should have been more...alert. Or at least ready for a black van—–stereotypical kidnapping van I might add—–that screeched up to the sidewalk, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. The van's occupants streamed out in balaclavas and black jackets and rushed me. There were about five of them, another sixth driving the car.
Instinctively, I uncapped riptide and did what came naturally. I swung the sword and the blade sliced through the nearest adversary, leaving them unharmed and intact. They're human, I realized belatedly.
Although I was shocked, I wasn't stupid. I dropped my sword and swung full-fisted at the guy on my left. It connected with the man's nose, the feeling of smashed cartilage grinding against bone resonating up my arm. I kicked and lashed out at each man I could reach, but I was out-numbered. I brought one kick to guy number three's stomach then tried to run. I thought if I could get away, or find people, then I might stand a chance.
But one of them leaped for me, landing on the ground and successfully catching my shoe. I hit the sidewalk with an oomph, and the man on the ground crawled his way on top, holding my arm behind me. Struggle as I might, I couldn't shake him, his knee digging into my back holding me down. His buddies came over, one holding a very big, very nasty needle.
Even though I knew it couldn't get through the Achilles Curse, I fought back. An instinct to live engulfing my knowledge.
I bucked and kicked, straining to throw him off before they tried getting that needle into my body. They pulled my shirt away from my neck, and I watched as the tip neared my blood stream—and I almost laughed when it shattered against my skin.
"The hell?" exclaimed the one holding the now-useless needle.
"Just taze him and let's go. Beta can't keep the streets closed forever," growled the guy on my back.
I heard the distinct sound of electricity coursing through the air, a sound I had become familiar with after all my excursions with Thalia, daughter of Zeus. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain that would course through my body.
Before I lost consciousness, I heard the engine start and the blurred comment of catching another on. Then the world went black.
When I regained consciousness, the first thing I noticed was that I was lying on something hard and uncomfortable. Cracking my eyes open, overwhelmingly bright white light and four pairs of eyes, one pair green and one pair blue, greeted my awakening. The light was enough to set off a migraine and bring forth the surplus pain from the taser. I knew there was no burn or mark, but it hurt like hell. The unnerving eyes bore into me with intensity like I was some interesting specimen under a microscope.
I groaned and rubbed at my temple. There was a pressure I couldn't get rid off in my mind. Morphine would have been welcome at any time. I reopened my eyes and noticed a girl staring intently at me instead of the two people I had seen before.
"You drool in your sleep," she said evenly. Even in this situation, I had to smile.
"I've been told that before."
She pursed her full lips and poked me in the head. I raised an eyebrow and blocked a second poke.
"What are you doing?"
She shrugged and sighed, turning away. Her hair, a soft coppery brown, fell loosely down the middle of her back, decorated and woven with little braids and twisted curls. When she looked back, I saw she had two different colored eyes, with no subtle difference. One was sapphire blue, the other emerald green. Her face was slim, a small, thin nose, and big round eyes. She was small but muscular, like a dancer, dressed in a white tank top and white yoga pants. Her arms sported a strange design in black pen.
"The doctors were complaining they couldn't get a needle through your skin," she explained with a shrug.
"And you thought poking me would?"
Again, she shrugged.
"Where are we?"
"Area 51." She spoke with a slight accent, Boston maybe. It sounded like she was from Massachusetts, but I couldn't be sure.
"Really?" I pushed myself into a sitting position, noting I was lying ontop of a white gurney, my street clothes vibrant against the pale sheets. I glanced around, taking in my surroundings and the bizarre room, which was entirely white. White panels covered the walls surrounding other white beds. I guessed it was some kind of hospital or infirmary. The only non-white thing in the room was a giant mirror that covered half a wall.
"No." She took a breath, "well, maybe. I mean I don't know exactly where we are. I was on Cape Cod. Well, I was when I was taken, I—"
"Who took us?"
She looked at me, a little peeved for interrupting her. "Hands of blue."
"Huh?"
She nodded towards the mirror and said, "big brother's always watching."
"You mean—the government kidnapped me? Why? I know I'm not the golden American but this seems to be a little extreme."
The girl laughed, a light sound. "They know," she explained.
"Well, thanks."
"No. I mean, they know."
"Know what?" I asked slowly. Something about what the kidnapper said in the van was sliding into place; although, I hoped and prayed that I were wrong. The girl opened her mouth to speak but stopped abruptly before a deep male voice spoke gruffly.
"Everything, Mr. Jackson." A wiry man had floated over to my bed without my even knowing. His face, stuck perminantly in an unmoving expression, was insignificant. His hair was cut short, balding at his crown; his eyes, cold and calculating; his body meager and wiry without any sign of having strength; his suit was unimpressive, a black work suit, white shirt, and a thin black tie. "We know about you, your father, that little camp you go to every summer."
Blue latex gloves slammed a fat file down onto the white table next to my bed. I swallowed and tried to look unperturbed. A partner, slight shorter and fatter than the first blue hand, stood silently beside him. The first blue hand turned to the girl, who was still watching me with increasing interest. I flinched momentarily from an increase of pressure in my head that soon subsided into numbness. All the pain had disappeared from my head.
"You should be in class, Ms. Thorn."
The girl's matched eyes slid from me to the agents. She sneered at the guy and stood up haughtily, mimicking their military stance and saluting them with a leer.
"Sir, yes, sir!" She slid on her heels and marched out of the infirmary. The blue hands didn't watch her leave but kept all eyes on me. I shifted awkwardly, hating the attention that was focused on me, and tried to look anywhere but at the imposing agents. So I watched the girl leave, a little curious as to what was behind the door. As she reached the doorway and it opened to reveal more white hallway, she turned and winked.
I'll be seeing you, Jackson.
I started in the bed and looked at the Blue Men. They acted as if nothing had happened. She hadn't moved, so did that mean only I could hear her? I pushed away Thorn's quip for the moment and instead faced the guys and started tapping incessantly on the gurney bars.
"So what do I call you guys?" I asked, drawing out the so.
"I am Agent Jones," said the first blue hand.
"I am Agent Smith," said the other.
"And why am I here?"
Jones stepped forward and grasped my arm, heaving me to my feet. My knees buckled under my weight, but I managed not too fall over. With the weakness in my legs, I had to wonder how long I had been unconscious.
"We know more than the little details. We know about the little war that your—–kind brought to New York."
My breathing came faster and faster as I was lead into the hall. In both directions guards stood to attention. They were all equipped with restraints, clubs, radio ear sets, and guns. They turned their emotionless faces to me as I walked through the hall. I gulped and was shoved into walking to the right. Along the walls, faces of kids appeared in circular windows. Some of the faces I knew. Travis Stoll banged on his and was yelling loudly; although, I could not hear him. Katie Gardner clasped her mouth when she saw me, a few hunters from Thalia's troop lowered their eyes and wouldn't look at me. All of them half-bloods I had seen from one time or another, some of them never having set foot in Camp.
"But—" my voice cracked. I had been trained and been in so many situations, but none were like this one: The government was rounding up half-bloods, locking them in cages like animals.
We reached a room numbered C22. The door was unlocked and I was unceremoniously pushed in. The door was locked behind me. Static crackled above my head and a voice sounded its way through.
"Make yourself comfortable, Perseus Jackson. You will receive your fate in the morning." The voice paused for a moment and I guessed it was coming on to all the rooms. Although, I wouldn't be able to hear a bomb go off outside my door. "Lights out."
The only light flashed off and I was left in total darkness to find my way to my bed.
=-Day Two-=
I woke to flashing bright lights. I lurched sideways off of the cot, scrambling on the floor with confusion as to where I was. Then I remembered, my heart sinking to the realization of being a prisoner. The van. The government. The hands of blue.
Frantically, I searched my pocket for my pen, relief flooding through me as I felt its familiar slick casing. I was a little confused as to why I still had it but figured they probably disarmed me but didn't know about its reappearance act. Curious, I inspected the cupboards that lined the far side of my room. Pairs of white t-shirts and sweatpants filled the drawers. No shoes. I still wore my own clothes, but something told me I wouldn't be by the end of the day.
The rest of the room was fairly plain and barren: the single military cot lay in the corner, the linens and blankets completely bleached; the cupboards sported the wall opposite the door; two half walls cornered off the sink, toilet, and shower head. A wire toothbrush and a bottle of toothpaste rested on the counter, a small bottle of what I guessed was shampoo stood in the shower, a bar of soap still in its packaging.
I whirled around when the door to my room opened, expecting the men in black to return. No one was there. I shrugged mentally and stuck my head out of the room cautiously. All of the rooms were open and their inhabitants were streaming out down the hall. The girl, Ms. Thorn, was making her way out of the room next to me and nodded her head to follow. Not knowing what else to do, I followed. Everyone was identical. Their faces shared the same lost, haggard emotion, the same clothes, the same ill-fate of confinement, the same white clothes I had found in my room.
All of the prisoners were heading to a room that I found mirthlessly like the ones in public schools; white tables were surrounded by white benches and a mirror, much bigger than the one in the infirmary, flashed on one side of the room. Guards were alert in every corner, a line forming at the beginning of a cafeteria shelf. Travis Stoll came behind me and whispered to get food and not to do anything rash. I joined the line and almost started laughing with annoyance. Even the cafeteria trays were white. A detached attendant shoved me a plate with taters, eggs, an apple, and juice.
"What? They run out white food dye?" I grumbled as I walked away.
Travis, Katie Gardner, and Thorn were sitting at a table in the middle, farthest away from the guards. When I sat, Travis grasped my arm in greeting, Katie smiled a sad smile, and Thorn just nodded.
"You too, huh?" I said with little humor.
"Got me outside of school. No one saw. Connor was somewhere else, thank the gods."
"I was at my local greenhouse! I was just locking up when they came up behind me in black masks and a needle!"
"Same here," I agreed. "Though, I got the tazer treatment." I carefully glanced around the cafeteria, "gods, almost half of camp is here! What the hell is going on?"
Katie and Travis shrugged dejectedly.
"They aren't just keeping us here," supplied Thorn. I turned to her, unwittingly rubbing my temple. The pressure had returned; although, my head didn't hurt. She was inspecting me curiously. "They want us for them."
"Do you always speak in riddles?" I asked.
She smiled deviously. "Makes it more fun. Besides," she began to pick at her food, "it distracts from the insipid taste."
"What's your name anyways, Ms. Thorn?"
She tossed her head side to side as if debating telling me. "Lyra," she looked up at me with mismatched eyes, "daughter of Hecate." Hecate? Hecate's the goddess of...
"Why not use magic to escape? If we come together, all of the demigods could easily overpower the guards!" I exclaimed loudly then glanced around to make sure no guards were taking an interest in us.
Travis and Katie sank in their seats and shook their heads.
"Clarisse is here," said Katie, her voice thick with unshed tears. Her eyes were bloodshot.
"She fought the guards, even took out four of them." Travis said almost happily, at least proudly.
"But Jones and Smith came and used this grip on her. She went out like a light," finished Lyra. She shrugged and pinched her nose, shoveling food into her mouth.
"Okay, so brute force from Clarisse doesn't work, but why not magic?"
Lyra frowned at me. "I can't use magic," she said touchily.
"You can't use magic." I said disbelievingly. I had never heard of a child of Hecate not being able to use magic. It was like a son of Poseidon being afraid of the water.
"I have other small talents that make up for lack thereof." She replied haughtily.
I smiled knowingly. Travis and Katie watched our conversation, lost and a little warily, aware of any prying eyes from the guards.
"Like speaking in one's mind?" I inquired.
That earned me a sly smile. "Something like that."
Our discussion ended there. Mr. Jones , or maybe Mr. Smith because they looked practically the same, hovered above me, appearing like he had done before.
"Mr. Jackson, why aren't you wearing your clothes?"
I glared up at them, my fist clenching. "I am wearing my clothes. See, that's a Puma shirt and these—are skate board pants." I pinched each article as I spoke. No emotion betrayed the stone features of Jones .
"You are required to wear the uniforms of the Academy."
I touched my chin, feigning debation. "Mmm, I'm gonna have to decline. I like colors."
If I had not been ready for it, I would have greeted the table with my face. I rolled to the side and out of Jones's arm range. He was faster than I gave him credit for. But i was faster. He snatched air and hit the table with his empty fist. Spectators cried out in alarm and jumped up and out of the way. I raised my fists, ready for a fight.
No! Jackson, now is not the time for fighting!
I risked a glance at Lyra. She gave no indication of speaking to me but stood nonchalantly by the table. I lowered my fist, though they were still clenched.
"Fine," I spit. "I'll go change."
Jones made no nod but allowed me to go back to my room. I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut, not caring it might lock me in. I tore through the cupboard and threw the clothes all over the room. I stripped down and replaced it with the white clothes. I didn't trust leaving it in my pants, which would probably be taken from my prison cell once I left, so I hid riptide in a crack in my cot. I was shaking, whether from anger or fear I didn't know. I brought my hands to my face, running them through my hair and down my face, trying to get control of myself. I inspected my hands, the tremor still running through them and scrambled eggs covering my knuckles.
"Figures," I mumbled as I numbly walked to the sink. No faucet. I tried running my hand underneath and the egg fell off, but no water came out. I tapped the sink but still there was no water. I tried the shower. No water. No water in the toilet. Furiously and dispirited, I yelled and slammed my fist against the wall. The marble cracked but my skin was unscathed.
"You're an idiot."
I spun towards the voice. Lyra was leaning against the bathroom wall with her arms crossed.
"Get out," I growled.
She pushed off the wall and made a ticking sound. "Don't be like that. I saved your ass."
I growled, exasperated. She rolled her eyes.
They would've thrown you into a deep, deep hole. Her voice resonated through my mind, the same pressure touching my mind.
"Stop doing that! If you even tried to use magic, we could get everyone out!" I shouted. I shouted loud enough to crack through Lyra's uncaring facade. She covered it quickly but for a second I saw she was equally scared. I looked down, feeling ashamed of my misplaced anger. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did." She took a deep breath. "I don't—have— magic. Like I said, I have little talents."
Electronic beeps resonated over the speakers. A garbled voice telling lids to move on and go to the appropriate rooms.
"Class time," Lyra informed me.
"Class? You mean to say I was kidnapped and I have to go to school?"
Lyra smiled and seemed to have forgiven me for my outburst. "It's more like—conditioning."
=-Day Three-=
I was starting to be really sick of white. Nothing gave any clues as to where we were being held. As far as I knew, we could in Antarctica. The underground facility in which we were being held went on indefinitely, the halls stretching and weaving like the Labyrinth. There were thirty rooms on my floor alone, every one of them filled with demigods.
Not only were there bedrooms but classrooms and doctor's offices as well. The classrooms were like every other school room: rows of desks and a white board. We had regular lessons there—–like math and English class—– but there was something wrong about it too. The classes seemed—different and more pointed. I couldn't place the feeling so I chalked it off to being locked in a military base.
The doctor's offices were more disturbing. The rooms were filled with the usual paraphernalia used by doctors: a scale, needles, vials, a chair, a seat for the "patient," etc. But there were things that normal doctors shouldn't have when all their patients were kids. Drugs filled glass refrigerators, restraints adorned the patient's chair, which was nailed in place. There were many of the exam rooms so that only a few would be waiting for a short amount of time. We were told to sit in the chairs and wait for our turn, stone faced guards staring into space, their hands resting on their guns.
"Jackson, Perseus," an orderly read from his chart. When he saw me rise, he nodded to the second room and escorted me in. As soon as I sat down, the straps locked around my wrists and ankles. The orderly left in silence.
Five minutes went by and a young woman entered, smiling. Blonde hair tied back in a tight pony tale, blue eyes hidden behind glasses, she was the first person, other than the Blue Hands, that I had seen wearing normal, street clothes; instead, she wore a lavish teal blouse, a long black skirt, and high black heeled shoes.
When she spoke, her voice was light and kind sounding, rather unlike what I'd expect in a place like this. "Patient's name: Perseus Jackson. Male. Age 16. Son of Poseidon, god of water."
"It's actually the sea. And these," I jangled against the restraints, "aren't necessary."
The woman smiled lightly, her teeth shining. "I can assure you they are." She ruffled through a drawer under the sink and removed a needle. Before I could react, she jabbed it into my arm, but the tip shattered. "I was hoping you could explain this?"
"Let's say no."
She frowned and lowered her glasses to see me more clearly. "Mr. Jackson, if you just cooperate with me, this will go much easier for you."
"Mhm. Doctor..."
"Calder," she supplied.
"Dr. Calder, I have no intention of making this easy for you people. You took me against my will and tore me away from my family." I leaned forward, my wrists killing at the awkward angle. "I'm gonna find a way out. And I'm going to make you all pay. I swear on the River Styx." It might have just been me, but I could swear the earth rumbled and Dr. Calder felt it. She lost her superior air and apprehensively glanced at the door.
"We will continue with the invincibility on a later date. Now, it is just an ordinary check up." She took out her stethoscope and listened to my breathing, muttering to herself as she filled in my file. She asked questions about my background, family, and other psyche evaluations questions. The time passed slowly, after many measurements, getting hit with some knobby thing that tested my reflexes. Nearing the end, Dr. Calder removed a weird looking bracelet from her bottomless drawer. She frowned at it, like that wasn't something she wanted to do.
"This," she clipped the bracelet onto my right wrist, "is a monitoring bracelet. It takes readings off of your body and will help us understand your—–condition. And don't try to meddle with it, it won't end well for you," To prove her point, she took her pen and leveraged it between the meeting of the two ends. A strong, sharp shock of electricity coursed through it. I yelped in surprise. "You didn't want to cooperate. This is how we deal with those who are uncooperative."
I stared insanely and thought of painful ways to deal with her until the guards returned and untied me.
Two hours of stupid tests to run and a nasty chalk drink and an insane, psychopathy bracelet and I was released to down time. One day and I was already ready to be free of this place.
Down time was time we were allowed to use our time as we wished. In short, it means be locked in your room until we, your captors, see fit. Apparently, those who are good are allowed to wander the halls or train in the gym during the time. But you had to "earn" that privilege through obedience and good grades. I was no such acceptance. I was left to stare at my blank wall, bang my head against my bed, and count the seconds as best I could.
I missed my mom and Paul. I wondered if they were okay, if they were looking for me, or if the men in suits had visited them, telling them I was dead or to let me go. What about Annabeth? I hadn't seen her, but she could be in the other levels, or even another facility if there was one. The Hands of Blue had talked about camp and the gods, so does that mean that they hadn't stormed my second home? I'd only seen demigods, no nature spirits or monsters, so either they were only rounding up half-bloods, couldn't catch the spirits, or didn't know about their existence.
With each thought my mood got worse, my mind making depressing connections and assumptions, so I tried wandering around my room to get exercise. My mind needed something to do, and thinking was not an option. Instead, I figured out the trick to the shower. It was some kind of sonic cleaner so I had no water to manipulate to my advantage. Angry, I decided to punish them by going on strike. No water, no shower. If they wanted to be able to breathe fresh air, then they needed to give me a real shower and sink.
The wall I had broken earlier was still shattered, which somehow amused me. Great, I'm going insane. Amused by a shattered wall.
I plopped down against the door to my room and threw an invisible ball at the opposite wall. I pictured it in as much detail I could muster, creating something so clear that it was almost real. As I threw the ball, my mind wandered to the broken marble and the presence I felt in my mind. Lyra, I thought. I was curious to see if her mind trick could work both ways, and I didn't have anything better to do than throwing my invisible ball. Each time I repeated her name, Lyra became faster and faster. Lyra-Lyra-Lyra-Lyra...
Do you have anything better to do than to annoy me with your voice?
I hadn't expected it to work, so when her snide response echoed through my mind, I managed to miss my invisible ball so I leapt to the side to catch it before I remembered it wasn't real.
That's sad.
What? You can see that?!
You thought it, I can hear it.
So you can hear all my thoughts?
She made an indecisive sound, which was considerably strange since it was in my mind. I can hear and—com—prehend most of the stuff going on in sombody's mind. Like the motion and thoughts and emotions. I sometimes forget about that whole invasion of privacy thing. Ruins the game Marco Polo though. There was a pause in conversation. Did you want something or are you looking to play tennis with your ghost ball?
We need to escape.
I know. I've been here a week or so and I haven't found a better opportunity than when you arrived.
I thought for a moment before replying. I never really had to plan something like this before, I've only seen movies and watched shows about breaking out of prison. They always had someone on the outside to collaborate with. They had someway to spread the word to their fellow inmates, in my case, the demigods. They timed the guard shifts, their posts, and learned about the head agents—–Jones and Smith, for instance. Where are their offices?
Lyra, as she had warned, seemingly forgot about the privacy in my mind. From what I've seen, they just show up randomly to watch the recruits. And I don't think watching Prison Break will have helped in this situation. For instance, they knew where they were. Meet me during lunch and we'll discuss the specifics and jobs for those willing to risk a breakout. I can contact most of the demigods in our level but not the ones on the other floors or the stalks.
The stalks?
My word for where the "bad'" ones go. A few seconds later, flashes of images hit me. Clarisse was in the cafeteria. Some guards held their batons in front of them, their mouths moving without any sound. Clarisse held her hands by her sides, but her knuckles white from clenching her fists from being clenched for such a long time. The other demigods were against the walls, watching with apprehensive hope. Clarisse snapped mentally and struck the nearest guard, disarming the guards and dispatching them with ease. She had taken out every guard and was trying to rally the other demigods, and it was working. Until Agent Jones came up behind her and struck her hard on the back of her neck with some sort of grip. She collapsed to the ground and was promptly taken through a door with an elevator going down.
I see you've payed close attention?
Shrug. I'm more observant than people give me credit for. I just never had an idea as to how to use it.
I might have one.