Hullo
DISCLAIMER: All rights belong to Rick Riordan, except the bits I came up with
Takes place after the Blood of Olympus
EPISODE 2: Puppet In the Wind
*Third-Person POV*
Inside a dark cave, sat a figure on a chair, humanoid in feature.
It was an ugly figure, hunched over, front of a fire, with dry cracked skin that stank of disease and the most horrid smell of rotten flesh.
It was singing, very softly; Its voice was an astounding contrast, Smooth and lyrical, a note of plea on its light tongue, that darkened the fire's heat. The voice was only heard by those who knew how to listen.
"… What will we do with a drunken whaler... What will we do with a drunken whaler...What will we do wi-"
"Mɥɐʇ ʍᴉll ʍǝ po ʍᴉʇɥ ɐ pɹnuʞǝu ʍɥɐlǝɹ..." replied the same voice, several octaves deeper.
"SHUT UP GODDAMM IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"SH∩┴ ∩Ԁ פOpp∀WW I┴¡ ˥Ǝ∀ΛƎ WƎ ∀˥ONƎ¡" said the deep voice.
"..."
"I am forever a puppet now, Aren't I? To be raped of my freedom A prisoner inside my own dammed head, if only the Mᴉup had not come. If only... If only. Is any of this real anyway? What is reality? Really? It is only the twisted game of those who lie beyond, beyond the void. Curse him. Curse the sʞnll and all the Mᴉup that he brings. This Mᴉup tears my very soul from my flesh, it is the parasite that feeds upon emotion, and substance, sucking into it the entire world of BOUNDARY!? WHY? WHY GODDAMM IT? Is reality mental– mind; or is it physical– matter and energy? If mind, is there a deeper consciousness underlying appearances that unites us all and is the source of our conscious thoughts? If matter, can we understand how the play of material objects and forces can give rise to conscious life? WHERE BEGINS Hǝll AND WHERE BEGINS HƎ∀ΛƎN. ANSEWR ME!"
"I ɐɯ ɟoɹǝʌǝɹ ɐ dnddǝʇ uoʍ' ʇo qǝ ɹɐdǝp oɟ ɯʎ ɟɹǝǝpoɯ¿ ∀ɹǝu,ʇ I¿ ∀ dɹᴉsouǝɹ ᴉuusᴉpǝ ɯʎ oʍu pɐɯɯǝp ɥǝɐp' ᴉɟɟ oulʎ ʇɥǝ WIND ɥɐp uoʇ ɔoɯǝ˙ Iɟ oulʎ˙˙˙ Iɟ oulʎ˙ Is ɐuʎ oɟ ʇɥᴉs ɹǝɐl ɐuʎʍɐʎ¿ Mɥɐʇ ᴉs ɹǝɐlᴉʇʎ¿ ɹǝɐllʎ¿ Iʇ ᴉs oulʎ ʇɥǝ ʇʍᴉsʇǝp ƃɐɯǝ oɟ ʇɥosǝ ʍɥo lᴉǝ qǝʎoup' qǝʎoup ʇɥǝ ʌoᴉp˙ Ɔnɹsǝ ɥᴉɯ˙ Ɔnɹsǝ ʇɥǝ SKULL ɐup ɐll ʇɥǝ WIND ʇɥɐʇ ɥǝ qɹᴉuƃs˙ ┴ɥᴉs Wind ʇǝɐɹs ɯʎ ʌǝɹʎ sonl ɟɹoɯ ɯʎ ɟlǝsɥ' ᴉʇʇ ᴉs ʇɥǝ dɐɹɐsᴉʇǝ ʇɥɐʇ ɟǝǝps ndou ǝɯoʇᴉou' ɐup snqsʇɐuɔǝ' snɔʞᴉuƃ ᴉuuʇo ᴉʇʇ ʇɥǝ ǝuʇᴉɹǝ ʍoɹlp oɟ qO∩Np∀ɹ⅄¡¿ MH⅄¿ MH⅄ פOpp∀WW I┴¿ Is ɹǝɐlᴉʇʎ ɯǝuʇɐl– ɯᴉup; oɹ ᴉs ᴉʇʇ dɥʎsᴉɔɐl– ɯɐʇʇǝɹ ɐup ǝuǝɹƃʎ¿ Iɟ ɯᴉup' ᴉs ʇɥǝɹǝ ɐ pǝǝdǝɹ ɔousɔᴉonsuǝss nupǝɹlʎᴉuƃ ɐddǝɐɹɐuɔǝs ʇɥɐʇ nuᴉʇǝs ns ɐll ɐup ᴉs ʇɥǝ sonɹɔǝ oɟ onɹ ɔousɔᴉons ʇɥonƃɥʇs¿ MHƎɹƎ qƎפINS ∀Np HELL MHƎɹƎ qƎפINS HEAVEN˙ ∀NSƎMɹ WƎ¡"
"..."
"…What will we do with a drunken whaler... What will we do with a drunken whaler... What will we do with a drunken whaler early in the morning... Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver, shoot him in the head with a-"
"Loaded pistol" finished the new voice
*Bang*
The puppet slumped dead in his chair, hole in the back of his head. The hand slowly lowered the barrel of his smoking gun.
"Puppets" said the voice disdainfully, "Always mad by the time I find them."
The hand slid down to pick up the bullet casing and then retracted back into the darkness. The second figure remained immobile for a matter of seconds, before turning, and leaving, swish of the cloak as it twirled beside him. Soundless footsteps pondered down the rocky terrain of the cave.
Nearby City residents called the police, saying they heard strange , distorted sounds coming from the mouth of a small cave. When police arrived at the scene, there was but nothing. The cave that the locals had claimed was there for years has simply vanished.
Police Officer Gerald Mentzo could have sworn he felt a wind enter his ears and say something... something about a whaler?
Whatever it was it was getting louder, and Mentzo was starting to get seriously panicked. Every thing began to fade away and his joints were slowly locking together, hunching him over.
"Oh god, oh god oh god OH GOD NO!" he trilled.
He screamed. And then everything was quiet.
And then it all screamed at the same time, multiplied into a hellish ear-wrenching sound.
No no no nonononononNONONONONNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Noooooooo!" Annabeth woke screaming in fear, as Percy burst through the door, followed by a stream of demigods and the signature clip-clop of Chrions hooves.
"Are you okay? What happened?" questioned Percy.
Annabeth shivered "I had a nightmare, and no, it wasn't about Tartarus." Percy furrowed his eyebrows "Then what was it?" Responded Percy
"I-I don't know, there was this man, thing, I don't know, that looked like a zombie. He was talking to himself and he talked back, but in a different voice. H-He.. Couldn't move. I-I th-think that he was stuck inside his own head. Well... That's what he said anyway."
"Then what?" Inquired Percy, "Did he attack you or something?"
"No, he, um, got shot. By this guy. He died instantly, and the dude with the gun, he said that the... other man was a... a p-puppet?"
"A puppet? I'd never heard of such a thing in Greek or Roman mythology. Maybe he meant figuratively?" Puzzled Malcolm
"It doesn't matter right now" commanded Chiron, "We'll worry about it in the morning. Off to bed, the lot of you!"
"Chiron, I'm staying with her tonight" said Percy sternly. To my surprise, Chiron replied with
"Of course, my boy, look after her" and left the cabin.
After Chiron left, Percy spoke and said
"Let's go to sleep Annie" He lay down next to me and I fell next to him.
With my head on his chest, I almost fell asleep. Just before I blanked I heard "...Whaler early in the morning"
Side note: Thanks for reading my second chapter. Please rate and review, and kindly restrain yourself to constructive criticism. (If you can). Let's play a little game. Find all the MGS references, and you get a cookie, of the virtual kind. How delightful!
