Here's something I drafted up about Nico. Basically what kind of happened when Percy wasn't paying attention in the BoTL. :)


"Whoever has provoked men to rage against him has always gained a party in his favor, too."

—Friedrich Nietzsche


Nico di Angelo wasn't used to being interrogated.

And he hardly expected it to take place in a McDonald's. But over the course of the past year, strange things had become…normal to him rather quickly. It might have been that he was a demigod. Plus, being a son of Hades didn't help his situation too much.

Still, that being said, this wasn't the first Nico had been interrogated. The first time he'd been interrogated had been by Annabeth Chase, who'd glared right through him with her eerie gray eyes, demanding he spill all his secrets. He didn't know any secrets.

And the ones he had weren't particularly noteworthy or even worth mentioning. Not if he wanted to be on Annabeth's good side. He didn't think she wanted to know he'd cheated at Mythomagic. She'd been neither a good cop nor a bad one, just a really scary one. She'd even offered up her cell phone, to see if he would call anybody.

Nico doubted there would be any mortal relatives of his willing to talk to him. Not when he was 70 years out of his time.

Nico sighed, dipping one of his many greasy, unhealthy French fries into ketchup. He inspected it thoroughly, almost hungrily eating it up with his eyes. In the end, he eschewed the poor, limp fry, discarding it and wiping his oily fingers on a white paper napkin.

He looked up, outside the glass windows of the popular fast food chain. He was in California, in the middle of nowhere with nowhere on his mind and his destination set to nowhere. He was in an oasis, a rest stop of sort on the highway, where food was offered regularly. Nico had scrounged up enough money to buy himself a Happy Meal, a suddenly depressing prospect considering his current state. That, and a medium fries.

And then, as if they'd appeared by magic, a blond-haired boy walked in with a manticore tailing after him.

Nico tensed, his hand immediately going to the ring on his right pointer finger. Not only a guise for a wicked-sharp blade, but an immediate stress reliever. The boy walked in, saw him and gave a little exhale of recognition.

Weird.

And then he walked over, taking a seat across from Nico. The manticore stood at the end of the booth, blocking any escape route of Nico's.

From up close, this seemingly normal boy was much different. He had sky blue eyes and a scar running down the side of his face. He even had a double-edge sword of steel and bronze strapped to his back. He seemed about college-age.

Now, Nico was no genius like Annabeth but he knew who this demigod was. Whispers at the camp were always late to reach him, but whispers got to Nico still.

"You're him. Luke."

Luke smiled. He sniffed. "It is true. You reek of death, Nico di Angelo."

Nico tried not to show how much his hearing his full name bothered him. It always brought back the memory of Bianca, dead now pretty much by the hands of Percy Jackson, the honest boy who'd lied to him. The rage surged up again, clouding his vision, and Nico took a deep breath, channeling that rage into his so-far civil conversation with Luke. "So I've been told."

"You must be wondering why I'm here." Luke snapped his fingers; Nico didn't know whether he was snapping at the manticore or just because he felt like it, but suddenly the cashiers all disappeared into the back cellar of the McDonald's, some even leaving the stove on in their haste. Customers also quickly vacated the small stuffy place. But…now that it was empty, it didn't seem so small.

"I also wonder to myself what death will feel like if I were to choke on a tuna sandwich. Did you know that?" challenged Nico.

The ridiculous grin on Luke's face had not disappeared yet. It irked Nico; he wanted to smack it off his face. "I've come here with a proposition."

"I've got a girlfriend," disrupted Nico. The manticore snorted.

"No, you don't," Luke replied just as fast. He cleared his throat. "Like I was saying, you know who I am. And we could be interested in people like you. You hate the gods; they've never offered anything to you, and they've never done that to me either. You're angry that your sister is dead. So am I."

Nico curled his lip. "You never knew her. Why would you care?"

Luke stared at him, swallowed, "My best friend died when I was 14 because of the gods. I've only ever met my father once, and he wasn't too helpful. My mother went crazy because of the gods. I may not know your sister, but join me so that you can avenge her and Bianca will not have—"

"DON'T SAY HER NAME!" shouted Nico. "You're not worthy to say her name."

"—died in vain," he finished. "Look. You want to gut her killer in the stomach, don't you? You know how she died, don't you? One of the gods' many inventions. Discarded junk made by Hephaestus tossed on Earth. Just up and away, that's what your sister was. She died of starvation, lack of water, alone in the desert, electrocuted. It was painful," he hissed. "Don't say you don't feel anything."

Nico closed his eyes, pain resurfacing again. He hadn't been there for Bianca when she'd died; he should have been there. After Percy had told him what happened, he'd dreamt about it. He always imagined what it would have been like. Luke was right, but he was evil.

And there were better ways of going about revenge than just picking the losing side.

"I won't say that," said Nico resignedly.

Luke leaned back in his seat, carelessly almost. Nico figured it would be really funny if he accidentally impaled himself on his sword. It would finally put to rest all that talk of great swordsmanship. "Mind if I take one?" he asked, picking up another fry from his big plate of them.

Nico shook his head mutely.

Luke popped the fry in his mouth, chewed around for a while and swallowed audibly. "Ah," he sighed. "We could be great buddies, you and I. You hate Percy Jackson; so do I. Join our cause; we only need one more. It will be you. Kronos will rise, and you'll be the favored one. I guarantee it. By my side, you can personally be the one to kill Jackson. This is too good an opportunity to miss."

Nico looked around the empty, deserted restaurant. He wondered what the mortals would think if they saw this. A 21-year-old-something guy hanging out with a mopey 13-year-old who looked like he'd just lost his teddy bear. Nico laughed bitterly.

Luke misunderstood. "What's so funny?" he demanded, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

Nico shook his head. Still, internally, he kept mulling over something Luke had said. You hate Percy Jackson; so do I. The words rang inside Nico's head. Did he really hate Percy?

No, he told himself. Nico had placed his trust in Percy back when he'd first met him. He'd wondered, how could he lie? He couldn't lie; not with those sea-green honest eyes. Okay, fine. He did hate Percy. He wasn't just ready to become his chum. But to the point of murder?

Nico looked up at Luke, judging him by the angry scowl, the years of pent up rage stored inside him. Luke might be right, but Nico's revenge would be his and his alone.

"I'm sorry, Luke. But I can't."

Luke nodded slowly, understanding but not quite. "Consider yourself lucky. This is the second personal visit I've made this summer to a demigod of course."

"The first being?"

"Annabeth, of course." Nico blinked. When it seemed he wouldn't be getting an answer, Luke cleared his throat. "I'll just leave then," he said. "Until next time, Nico di Angelo. And there will be a next time," he promised. He beckoned the manticore with his fingers to follow him out, and just the way they'd come, disappearing into mist the moment they stepped outside onto the concrete.

They were just a trick of the eye, leaving Nico alone with his thoughts.

Sighing, Nico stood up, his chair angrily scraping against the seldom cleaned floor as it was pushed in. He picked up his fries, and dumped them into Happy Meal bag. He was taking this to-go.

In fact, he was just about to push open the door, when he saw a bright specter of light reflected through the glass double doors. Nico whirled. He…was looking at a ghost.

That was the only word for it. This apparition floated just inches above the ground and had a grayish tint to his clothes which held not a splash of color.

"Who are you?" croaked out Nico, bewildered.

The ghost looked rather indignant. "I travel nearly 6 hours to find a son of Hades whom I've only heard rumors about, and this is the welcome I get?" he scoffed. "Abhorrent. I knew we should have stayed in Great Britain, and not bothered with shifting the Underworld across another ocean," he mumbled.

"Who are you?" repeated Nico again, more confident now that he'd twisted his ring and brandished his Stygian Iron blade.

The ghost inspected the tip of the blade, finding it rather…dissatisfactory. "My, my. Manners these days. Very well. I'm the instrument that will get you your revenge against Percy Jackson."

Nico's ears perked up. "Your name," he insisted, waving the blade closer, despite having no idea how to kill a ghost that was already dead.

The ghost locked eyes with Nico, malicious intent brewing under them like a hot soup. "Minos."

Nico lowered the blade.


Thanks for reading!