A/N: Okay I'm just going to continue this BECAUSE I CAN and I really like writing gore-don't judge me. (The song that comes in here is called Riptide by Vance Joy if you want to listen to it beforehand you can find it here:(youtube URL) /watch?v=uJ_1HMAGb4k it's a really good song trust me)

Percy sauntered back to the dimly lit desk, wiping the red stained blade with a cloth. "Don't think you'll get off easy with Annabeth. I may like to hear you scream but she hates people like you more than anyone else."

Annabeth walked up to the man with blood pouring out of his chest, a wolfish grin playing upon her lips and a hammer in her hand. "He's right, you know. Some people would call us sick- crazy, even. But you- you churn my stomach so much I feel like I might puke." She chuckled. "You know, when a psychopath says you make her sick to her stomach, that's probably a hint that you're doing something terribly wrong with your life." Annabeth grabbed a device from a tray beside her that looked like an inside-out, spiked dog collar made out of metal and strapped it around his neck with relish. "Make a single twist of your neck," she whispered, "and those spikes will dig into your skin and pierce your throat in tiny little dots." She stepped back from him with a smug smile on her face and funk music playing softly in the background. "Enough talk. Time for some fun."

Annabeth backed up and Percy changed the song on the iPod. A light melody sprang out, a strangely happy tune for a strangely dark scene. Annabeth grabbed a rusty nail from her tray and hummed the tune, her head swaying a bit to the music.

I was scared of dentists and the dark

She started pushing the nail into one of the cuts Percy had made, thick fluid running down his chest.

I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations

She kept pressing until the 6-inch nail was halfway into the bloody man's body, his screams ringing through the basement and spikes digging into the back of his neck as he arched his head back.

"Oh honey, if you thought that was bad..." Annabeth just laughed darkly, her grin turning malicious as she grabbed another nail.

Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side

She pressed five more nails into the various cuts around his torso. Her hands were caked with blood and flyaways from her ponytail were dipped in the red liquid before she looked at him, with blood dripping down his neck and around his chest, metal in places metal had no business being. The corner of her mouth twitched up before she picked up a power saw from the palette of devices she had.

"Don't worry, Mr. Hornsby. I made sure not to rupture any vital organs. We don"t want you dead just yet," she said, her voice lilting. "Perhaps this will distract you from the pain." She put a bit on the power drill and pushed down on the button. The bit started to whir, almost obscuring the music.

There's this movie that I think you'll like

Annabeth put the spinning bit up to his chest and pushed. The drill caught on his skin and it twisted, creating creases in a spiral pattern and dragging in the edge of an earlier cut. The skin stretched and peeled towards the tool, and once again screams of terror racked through the room. They were cries and sobs of pure anguish, salty tears and warm blood mixing together in a sick concoction created by the mastermind that was now exchanging her drill for an item that seemed, in her hands, even more terrible-gloves.

You see, this entire time Annabeth had Hornsby's blood dripping between her fingers, running down her arms, splashing onto her shirt. Gloves could only mean one thing, that what she was about to do was even more painful than forcing dull, rusty nails into his body or peeling off skin with a power drill. His eyes wided and all the while, Vance Joy still sang-

I love you, when you're singing that song and
I got a lump in my throat
'Cause you're going to sing the words wrong