Disclaimer: As per usual, I own nothing of Rick Riordan's; the only thing I've got is my own lunacy.
Warnings: Self-edited, mild swearing.
"But once I thought I saw a flying horse. Probably just the mansion's magic barriers causing optical illusions, still, it was weird."
-Carter Kane, The Throne of Fire
"GET DOWN!"
Annabeth Chase dropped to the ground as she scrabbled away from the exploding river, swearing vehemently under her breath. At what, precisely, she wasn't sure, but the daughter of Athena didn't doubt that there was something out there that deserved it. Her first choice would be the reptile larger than her, with teeth that made her knife look like a toothpick. Or Kronos. Kronos was an excellent option.
In all honesty, if she had been told when she'd woken up that her day was going to involve a giant crocodile, she probably would have called in sick and made Malcolm deal with it. As it was, she had not gotten that warning, and was instead stuck trying to keep Camp Half-Blood from being ripped apart two days after the Battle of the Labyrinth.
Well—what was left of camp anyway. Kampê's rampage through camp had left behind damage that they wouldn't be able to repair any time soon; every last inch of camp had paid a steep price in the battle.
And—well. They called it a battle, Annabeth considered bitterly as she watched Michael Yew duck behind the rubble that was all that remained of Hera's cabin, before taking a useless shot at said giant crocodile and running for his life.
Massacre would have been a far more accurate term. A bloody, pointless massacre meticulously engineered to break them in this bloody, pointless war.
Nowhere was safe; a vital lesson in their lives, and yet Annabeth had been stupid enough to forget the rule beaten into her by the loss of Thalia, by Luke's betrayal. All them had been so stupid. Utterly convinced they were safe, foolishly believing that the words camp and safety were identical.
Every last one of them, from Chiron down to five-year-old twins Rosario and Felicia in Cabin Eleven, caught off guard by the presence of an entrance to—and more importantly, therefore an exit from—the legendary Labyrinth of Daedalus.
And, gods, how they had paid the price. Still paying the price, if Michael's screaming is anything to go by, Annabeth thought darkly, fighting against the fresh crimson-stained memories. Michael shouldn't have been forced to take point like this, so soon after Lee's death. She still couldn't quite comprehend how they had lost so many.
"You need to get everyone out of here. Now, please, Chiron—"
"Chris is telling the truth, I saw it myself. Daedalus's Labyrinth, right in the heart of camp—"
"How long do we have, Clarisse?"
"Minutes—nothing. There is no time."
Those already armed for Capture the Flag had barely been organized when Kronos's forces exploded out of the maze; they'd barely stood a chance against them. When Kampê had emerged, her poisoned daggers gleaming. . .
Then they had started to fall in earnest. Annabeth closed her eyes briefly, trying to will the every-present choking grief away; it was a bad idea, to say the least.
(Annabeth yanked her knife out of the hellhound's shoulder with a snarl of satisfaction. She didn't lose a step as it exploded into dust, and had just given a nearby empousa a challenging glare when she heard Bianca choke out her name behind her.
"A-Annabeth. . ."
The daughter of Athena whirled around to see Bianca di Angelo on her knees, her face chalky white as the jailer of Tartarus moved away in search of other prey.)
How many time would she have to lose her friends? How many, before the universe decided to stop?
The fact that there had been no sign of Nico since he had run into the Labyrinth in hot pursuit of his sister's killer had only made Annabeth's grief over one of her best friends falling in battle all the sharper. She doubted her ability to survive losing both children of Hades.
("Chin up, Annie. Always.")
"Shut up, Thalia," Annabeth growled. "You're not even here."
If it was petulant and self-pitying and whiny, Annabeth couldn't care. She'd lost too many friends, she felt too alone, and there were too many giant crocodiles trying to finish the job Kronos started a few days ago in her vicinity for the daughter of Athena to consider things like how she came off talking to a voice in her head.
A large boom and triumphant human yell certainly made her care about certain things, though.
Annabeth looked around the giant rock that had been serving as her temporary shelter, only to see one of the more unlikely things she'd have expected. The giant crocodile in the middle of the giant U formed by the—currently rubble of—cabins was still there, and still very, very angry. Not unexpected, considering the location had been part of the haphazard plan Annabeth, Michael, and Travis had come up with.
No, the surprising part was the black-haired teenager with his arms wrapped around the crocodile's neck, grasping at the mysterious necklace the monster wore even as he was dragged along the ground during his efforts. Strangely, he had what appeared to be a boomerang in his hand, and was wearing what looked suspiciously like pajamas. About twenty feet behind him stood Chiron and Michael. Distantly, Annabeth took note of Travis coming up to stand by her left shoulder as she watched the bizarre scene before her.
"Hey—No! Ju-Just stay still, for Ra's sake, so I can make you go back to your baby self!" he exclaimed, sounding about as annoyed as Annabeth in line at a coffee shop while a crocodile tried to tear him to shreds. "This doesn't have to be—hard!"
Annabeth snorted as his voice jumped up three octaves when the crocodile tried to buck him off, even as she and Travis started to slowly close in. Amazingly, however, he somehow managed to mostly keep his grip, grasping the necklace and hitting it three or four times with said boomerang; she then heard a series of small pops from her left at the same time Crocodile Wrestler's head received what looked like a very impressive concussion from the ground, and yanked Travis out of the way as brown water sprayed over their heads.
She sighed. There goes the last of the plumbing.
"Think he's a demigod?" Travis whispered, watching with fascination from behind the head from Hera's statue.
"Maybe he escaped a mental asylum somewhere?" Annabeth suggested. "Or—"
The possible demigod/asylum escapee crowed in victory while the crocodile tried to bite his arms. "Come on, come on—YES! Take that, you stupid excuse for a relative of Phil!"
"Okay, definitely an asylum escapee or a demigod then," she muttered, pulling out her Yankees cap. Just in case.
Travis snickered. "Who said he can't be both?"
She never came up with an answer, as the crocodile started to glow, because her day wasn't weird enough yet, and she and Travis were forced to avert their eyes. When they opened them again, the giant reptilian menace was gone, with only the demigod/lunatic left, holding a baby crocodile. Both of them were covered with sewage, and Annabeth immediately grimaced in sympathy. All the while, her mind raced, trying make sense of the situation. Hitting a crocodile's necklace with a boomerang should not have done anything.
"Of course, of course I get hit with—is this toilet water? This better not be toilet water, I refuse to lose another bet to Sadie," The person whose sanity Annabeth was starting to wonder about demanded. And who was Sadie?
For a long moment, neither demigod nor centaur responded, staring in shock. Chiron snapped out of it first, his tone perfectly apologetic. "I am afraid it is toilet water. Toilet water and sewage. But, who, I must ask, are you? Or. . .Sadie?"
"Oh, right," he gently dropped the crocodile on the ground, wiped his dirty right hand on his equally dirty pants, and extended it to Chiron. "I'm Percy Jackson. Sadie's my. . .It's complicated. Family's the short answer, I guess."
Annabeth frowned, the name Percy Jackson vaguely ringing a bell in her mind. Travis and Michael had no reaction, but Chiron. . .
"Percy. . .Jackson?" Chiron said slowly, his eyes suddenly gaining an intensity upon the guy that made Travis shift beside Annabeth. "Perseus Jackson?"
Percy Jackson nodded his head, inspecting Chiron warily as he pulled out what looked like a regular stick—until it extended into a staff. "Well, it's Perseus Kane, technically, but the last person to call me that is currently a cat named Muffin, and the other person before them is someone who periodically hosts someone else with very red fashion sense in their head and interesting ideas as to what a good name is, so let's just not go there, okay? Okay."
A/N: Okay, so my hatred for a good portion of what Riordan did with Heroes of Olympus and Magnus Chase, as well as the mere existence of Trials of Apollo is VERY well documented (Seriously, I could write my own book on why I think they suck; but that's me). Strangely enough, though, I've always really liked The Kane Chronicles; I think Riordan did a great job in striking a different tone with the trilogy that still jives with the rest of his mythology universe, his characters are a diverse, flawed, and interesting lot—not to mention they don't read like discount versions of Percy, Annabeth, Nico, and company—and through the story Riordan quietly and effectively tackles a lot of really important topics.
Anyway, the original PJO series is still a masterpiece, but I have yet to find a crossover—those blasted novellas Riordan published included—that really meshed the two worlds to my liking. Again, this one's also on the bucket list at some point. Quick background: In this world, Sally Jackson is killed by in a mugging gone wrong—because I am nothing if not unoriginal—with her toddler beside her. Luckily, one Amos Kane intervenes, and through many hijinks and gods laughing at a magician's pain, Percy is raised within the House of Life—with the Greek world convinced the son of Poseidon is dead.
So, here y'all go, and tell me what you think!