(This was an idea I had a few days ago and decided it was about time to implement. Onwards!)
If you've ever wondered where hell is, just go looking around in the City of Angels. Go look for 'Crusty's Waterbed Palace'. Look across the street at a seemingly wide spot between a thrift store and a grocery shop.
If you strain your eyes hard enough against the veil that mist creates and can see a store dubbed 'DOA Recording Studios', well congratulations you know have seen the main entrance to literal hell. Well more like Underworld as technically the mortal's version of heaven, The Isles of the Blessed and Elysium exist there. The walls of the studio are steel gray and the chairs are adorned with black leather.
There is of course another entrance in Central Park, a seemingly normal pile of rocks, but if you tried to move them you'd be pleasantly surprised to see you can't. This is the Door of Orpheus, the greatest ever mortal musician. There's just one thing, if you enter the underworld via the New York entrance you wouldn't have had the pleasure of meeting the Styx ferryman.
A very interesting, onyx-eyed, and dreary chap who amazingly has a witty sense of no humour. Well would you after the horrors he's had to face in the face of those dreaded beings called demigods. Gods, he couldn't stand them.
Anyone from that 12 year-old impertinent little bratty son of Poseidon to his own twisted version of royalty, that peppy daughter of Pluto who's all sunshine and happiness, even though she's a child of death.
It's almost as if she considers herself a daughter of the god of wealth and riches, which granted Pluto is, but she doesn't have to be happy all the time. It messes with his piss-poor attitude and pessimistic personality.
Gods, the terrible occurrences that must have occurred and have occurred to cause the ferryman to become like this. Speaking of gods, he hated all of them. Especially that roman one Laetitia, goddess of joy, happiness, and celebrations. He only respected the oldest of the big three, and the ferryman sometimes despised even him.
His reason to hate his boss, is paychecks that don't exactly pay the electric bill. Hades doesn't have the, as he says, "Time for this, nor do I have the money. I need to work on expanding The Fields of Asphodel, the traffic is absolutely horrendous, even with the help of Daedalus!"
'Really? That your excuse god of riches? I'm sure you could find some time to write a check, and as I said twice now, you're the god of friggin' wealth! Even Zeus would be more fair in payment, as he is the god of justice.' This is literally what he thought everyday. Now most would find that boring after a while, but he had all the time in the world supervising confused mortals.
'You know, I might just appreciate demigods a little, they bring some life into this place. Unfortunately they only do that when they're alive.' Pun not intended, Charon, thats C-H-A-R-O-N, not to be confused with C-H-I-R-O-N thought about that. And while he was reminded of all the good times, a barely noticeable smirk appeared on his ghastly pale face.
It was then, one of the rare moments that he was at peace did the fates decide to leave Percy Jackson alone for a couple of seconds and decided to make the Styx ferryman their kinky little bast- wait rated K+? What about the depressing shi- ah stuff I wrote about? Fine, fine, yeesh, I'll change it! Blah, blah, blah, kinky little bitch, is that better? Good! Gods, people these days and their PG ratings for everything, nobody believes me when I say it's the reason Hephaestus Tv is down the drain.
Sorry, I got off topic there for a second. So anyway, yeah ummm, where were we? Oh, thanks! The three weavers of fate decided to find some humour in causing poor misunderstood Charon to remember a few horrible encounters with demigods.
April 19th 2001 B.C.
There wasn't much to talk about. The biggest gossip these days was Heracles killing his own family and embarking on 12 labours to clear his name. He had finished the first 11, but according to the dead, his main source of gossip, the ferryman wasn't allowed to be told what the 12th labour was for some reason. All he knew was this was the hardest of all.
While he was contemplating this the caves entrance, blocked by a boulder, was breached by a buff chap. He looked at Charon and said "I need a ride through the Styx to Hades." Charon had never met Heracles so he didn't know the man in front of him was the legendary hero. So Charon did what he was known for; reply snarkily.
"Tell you what,I'll kill you, impertinent little brat, and then I'll see if I could streamline your application process-not" he smirked cockily while the man in front of him grew a healthy shade of red. Thinking it was because of embarrassment Charon's smirk grew, yet unfortunately for the immortal deity it was because of unadulterated rage.
Charon lost his facade of bravery when the person in front of him pulled out a club longer than him, and nearly peed his pants when Heracles glared at him and proceeded to pull a hair pin out of his sandy blonde hair and say, "You have offended me greatly puny little whelp ! Get me across the Styx now" his voice dropped an octave. Gaining some confidence Charon said in his British accent, "Not bloody likely!" Let's just say 20 seconds later a half dead immortal deity allowed Heracles entrance into the underworld.
November 17th 1916
It was 2 years into WWI, halfway through. It was an extravagant affair that was suspected to last 4 months, instead it's been going on for two years, 3 months, 21 days, and counting. Over 800 days of death after death. 3.8 million dead, the number growing every day. Ares was having a field day. Hades… quite the opposite.
The United States, where the gods resided was untouched by war and would stay that way until next year. It was ironic that for once the gods weren't involved in the mortal's choices, and the fact that the Americans called it the European War was testament to that statement. The mortals were fawning over an exiled son of Hecate, one exiled for the same reason as Alabaster C. Torrington, a traitor.
His mother veiled him from the Olympians so they couldn't destroy him, but it was pretty obvious that he was no longer allowed on Camp Half Blood premises, or any other place with godly significance. His name was Erik Weisz, also known by his stage name, Harry Houdini. With such attractions as 'The Milk Can Escape' and 'The Chinese Water Torture Cell' his fame was pretty self-exclamatory.
His magic was rumoured to be powerful enough to escape Tartarus while in a straight jacket. No wonder the Egyptians had tried to recruit him into the House of Life. Although his mother was the goddess of necromancy and a good friend of Hades Houdini wasn't welcome in the Underworld due to his, ah, restrictions. So you can understand why Charon is pretty adamant on getting the magician out of DOA recording studios.
"Get out."
"Bu-"
"Out."
"Just let me-"
"Get Out," Harry was testing the last thread of Charon's already thin patience,
The magician was sick of this banter, "No."
Charon looked at him incredulously, "No?!"
"You heard me." The son of magic was not to be denied.
"N-O!"
"Oh come one I just want to fulfill what the people want me to, escape the abyss of nothingness."
"You heard me," Charon childishly copied Houdini.
Houdini pulled out a doll that looked creepily similar to the ferryman,"I'm going to voodoo your behind if you don't let me pass," he said in his monotone Austria-Hungary accent.
Charon narrowed his eyes, "Try me."
Let's just say that for the next decade Charon suffered for constipation that couldn't be cured, and Houdini was allowed to jump in to the abyss in secrecy.
June 21st 2005, The Summer Solstice
There has been tension among the big three for awhile now, tension powerful enough to cause WWIII. Zeus suspects Poseidon of stealing his master bolt, Poseidon suspects Hades of stealing the 20-foot long weapon, while Hades suspects Poseidon of stealing his Helm of Darkness. No one knows that Hades' symbol of power has been stolen besides his three furies and Charon, his most loyal subjects. Anyone could see someone was plotting against Poseidon, and more so his son. Many would think that the best course of action for the 12 year old would be to lay low, but gossip travels fast among the dead and it seems he somehow got involved with the mortal police in a national manhunt! He was expecting there company in 3.2.1. The door to the studios opened up and 3 kids strolled in, Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Annabeth Chase, the gossip of the godly world. They looked around for awhile, examining and taking it all in, before walking up to Charon. Charon was able to sense whether anyone was dead or alive, and he knew these three children were very much alive, but he decided to humour them.
Percy looked at him mildly surprised and in bewilderment before he said "Your name is Chiron?"
"What a precious young lad. Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"
"N-no."
"Sir," the ferryman said.
"Sir," Percy added.
"Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."
"Charon."
"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."
"Mr. Charon," the son of Poseidon repeated.
"Well done. I hate being confused with that old horse-man." He said this while fighting the urge to smile. "And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"
The boy looked at the girl helplessly and she answered Charon with, "We want to go to the Underworld."
The ferryman's mouth twitched yet again, " Well that's refreshing."
"It is?" she asked.
"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" Charon looked them over. "How did you die, then?"
The son of the sea nudged the satyr, "Um … drowned … in the bathtub."
"All three of you?" Charon asked. "Big bathtub." Charon was mildly surprised at Grover's horrible lie. He decided not to let them pass because of his excessive nervousness, you can't be nervous when your going to the underworld! Let's just say 20 minutes later a bribed ferryman allowed them to cross the Styx.
June 18th 2008 and August 16th 2009
The biggest threat to Olympus was no secret. Luke Castellan had been a dangerous adversary, yet the Olympians chose not to act until the winter solstice of last year, 6 months ago. Now the son of Hermes, he is much more dangerous as he has merged with the spirit of the king of titans, Kronos.
Charon could only imagine that the encounter between the questers and the monstrosity was quite bone-rattling. He had heroes slowly trickling into his realm as the first battle was over, just barely ending in the favor of the gods. Usually his lord and master was annoyed when huge masses died due to the amount of paperwork that must be filed, but Hades' son had laid Daedalus to rest, a rogue soul that Hades has been tracking for millennia. It is also a bonus that the cursed son of Athena was content on helping the god to expand his kingdom.
There were two memorable heroes that had come today. Lee Fletcher, the respectable and loyal son of Apollo. Most likely Charon's favorite demigod to date, other than his master's children. After all, you don't many respectful demigods these days. The other was quite the opposite. Castor Gemini, the grape-violet eyed son of Dionysus, the hyperactive, yet slightly insane hero. He was a pain in the, as Houdini so eloquently put it, "Be-hind."
"I like grapes."
"Yes, I know."
"Like, I love them."
"I know."
"They're my life, it's not the same with CHB's grapes, like you understand *hiccup* me?"
The ferryman offhandedly thought if all Dionysus' children act drunk for the sole purpose of annoying him.
It was well into the Second Olympian war and things were getting heated. One way or another in two days the war would end. If it ended in the favour of the Olympians, nothing would really change. If it ended in favor of the titans, he'd be soon serving the Underworld's janitor, amnesiac Bob, also known as the Iapetus.
Father of Atlas, titan of mortality, pain, and violent death, he had quite the resigme. Apparently among the dead heroes, the gods had left to fight the father of monsters last week. Percy Jackson, the little scrawny 12 year old Charon met in 2005, had destroyed Williamsburg bridge and managed to stand toe-to-toe with Kronos.
To say Charon was impressed would be an understatement. Unfortunately the demigods were searching for Michael Yew who had apparently went missing when the son of Poseidon destroyed the burning bridge. A certain few had begun to fear the worst, little did they know that they were correct. The son of Apollo was being evaluated by Charon. He unlike his half-brother, inherited his social skills from his father. It took all of what the ferryman had not to throw the young teen into the Syx and get rid of him for good.
August 11th and 17th 2009
Charon could practically feel an explosion in the Atlantic, which was weird as he was on the west coast. It was definitely big as several demigods entered DOA recording studios. It was clear who the enemy demigods were as Thanatos threw them harshly onto the floor. The only one left inside with dignity was a buff African-American. It was quite clear he was the only true hero, and so Charon talked to him, learned he was Charles 'Charlie' Beckendorf, son of Hephaestus, and offered him immediate entrance to the Underworld.
"Thanks, but no thanks."
The ferryman looked at him in amazement, "You sure?"
"Yeah," Beckendorf said honestly.
"But why! Most people beg me to allow them across the river!," he said incredulously.
"There's a girl named Silena who I love and I refuse to go on without her. Be it a day or 30 years I'll wait."
Fortunately or unfortunately he didn't have to wait long, she came a week later and they descended the elevator and stepped into the canoe…
"Silena, Beckendorf."
"Mhmm?"
"Can you please stop kissing? You've been snogging each other since we reached the elevator-are you even listening?," he looked over at them incredulously, before he turned cherry red at the display of affection, something he despised.
"Silena and Beckendorf STOP MAKING OUT!"