The thing flew at them, all pulsing muscle and gnashing teeth and –Peter couldn't help but notice- disgusting drool, combined together in a whirling mass of dark fur. It looked like a rabid Rottweiler on steroids. Peter backed up quick, pulling a pen out of his scruffy jeans, too confused to wonder why. He knew he should be completely scared out of his mind, but he wasn't. In fact, he was filled with a completely out of context feeling. Longing. It pulled at his gut, familiar and strange all at once.
The girl went into battle-mode almost immediately. Suddenly, the cell phone in her hand was no longer a cell phone, instead a gleaming golden sword, long and thin and deadly. She flew at the demon-dog-from-hell (He didn't know how close he was) with a battle cry as menacing as the dog's viscous growl, and all Peter could do was watch like some star-struck idiot. He suddenly felt a strong surge of déjà vu, along with an overwhelming urge to uncap his pen. He squashed it down. What am I gonna do? Give it a crudely drawn mustache?
"Look out!" The girl's voice called urgently. He looked up to see the dog flying at him, the girl latched comically to its tail, thrashing like a fish out of water. He backed up quick and stumbled over onto the bench. The girl gave a startled cry as the claws came in contact with his unprotected chest. He felt the fabric of his green t-shirt rip, but nothing else. No stabbing pain, no biting claws, no warm blood seeping from the wound. Nothing.
He didn't have time to marvel at the miracle. The demon dog seemed irritated by the fact that his prey was still alive and well, and lunged again, his teeth snapping. Peter practically flung himself to the concrete, wincing at the hard snap his head made as it hit the asphalt. His vision went sputtered out for a split second, and stars dancing across his line of sight. The world swirled around him, and the rest of the world sounded tinny and far away.
Percy Jackson.
The name echoed in his ears. Was that his name?
Use the pen.
The stars cleared from his sight and he pulled himself up, the world giving one last psychedelic whirl. A painful lump throbbed on the side of his head. He stared at the pen gripped in his hand and, swallowing his feelings of utter idiocy, uncapped it.
And from the pen, burst a gleaming bronze sword.
Okay, I so did not see that coming.
It felt so intensely right in his hands, the grip molded perfectly for his fingers. He was Percy Jackson, this was his sword, and he was made to use it. He smiled unconsciously, and, his newly acquired lethal weapon in hand, flew at the monster. .
The auburn-haired girl, who was bleeding form multiple wound at this point, did a double take as he sailed by, utterly baffled. In a matter of seconds, all that was left of the monster was a pile of glittery dust, and a dark-haired boy in ripped up clothing. The girl closed her gaping mouth and touched a mark on her sword. It shrunk back into a cell phone. She ran to the boy, who was still staring at the pile of dust in a state of shock. She grabbed his shoulder and roughly spun him to face her.
"How did you—and where did you—what-," she took a breath to steady herself, cutting herself short, before looking his straight in the eye. "Who are you, why are you here and where did you get that?" she demanded, her grip painfully tight.
Percy blinked. He was vaguely—okay, maybe a little more then vaguely…just don't tell her that!—in intimidated by this girl. There was something about her tall stature, hard expression and cold grey eyes than made him uneasy. Oh and the freaky cell phone/ kick-ass sword.
"Uh…Percy Jackson…I think, I have no idea, and…a pen?" she saw the look on her face. He rubbed his neck nervously. "I'm just as confused by all this as you are…" her expression didn't change. There was an awkward patch of silence. Suddenly, a howl spilt the air. The girl muttered a curse in a language he didn't understand.
"The rest of the pack is coming….We better scram," Her hand clamped around his arm in an iron grip. "You're coming with me," she ground out, her expression dangerous and hard to read. She then began running, dragging Percy behind. When they reached the Square, she dialed a number on her cell phone/sword and brought it to her ear.
"Hello? Bobby? Yeah, it's Reyna. I…" she glanced at Percy warily, before continuing, "I acquiritur novus militiae. Quid? Immo unum. Venite ad quadratum. Vos currum quaesita, corrige? Bonum. Momentairly videtis. Oh, quod planto certus nos Lupa Gwen narrat eum. (1)" She hung up. She sat down on a nearby bench, her hands twtiching and jittering in her lap.
Percy turned to the girl, his arms folded. "Now, I've got some questions for you."
*.*.*.*.*.*
"Who are you?"
Cue annoyed sigh. "Reyna Greene. But that's Praetor Greene to you, runt."
"Where are you taking me?"
"That's classified."
"Classified? Why the hell is it classified?"
"It's on a need to know basis, and you rookie," She said it like he was gum stuck to the bottom of her sneakers. "don't need to know."
"I'm pretty sure I need to know."
Silence.
"So what was that thing anyway?" She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms like, I can't believe I'm associating with this person.
"That was a Hellhound, from the Underworld. Got any more stupid questions, runt?"
…
"What's the Underworld?"
"Mea numina densa es! (2)" she shouted throwing her arms up. "What do you think it is! It's the Underworld! Now shut up and sit down before I run you through with my sword." She turned around, looking at him over her shoulder. "You should learn to hold your tongue. Lupa would tear you limb from limb for such insolence."
"Sounds like a nice guy…" Percy muttered, in spite of himself. Luckily, Reyna just rolled her eyes and kept walking.
"Just close your mouth, okay? I'm doing you a favor. You're going to have to grow up if you're going to survive."
Percy opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as a huge shadow loomed over the pair. They both looked, up and Percy almost had a heart attack.
It was a chariot, for a second, it looked familiar, painted sea green with a blue wave design, trimmed with silver(3), but when he blinked, it was a simple gold chariot with the letters SPQR printed in bold purple letters on the side. It was pulled by a pair of Palominos. Winged Palominos.
Oddly enough, he wasn't as freaked out as he thought he would be. It was almost as if he saw crazy winged horses everyday.
Hey, maybe I do. Wouldn't surprise me.
"I-is that-?"
"Hey, Rey," A dark hair boy grinned, gripping the reins in his hands. "You rang?"
"Bobby, I told you not to call me that." Reyna muttered impatiently, her arms folded.
"Why? Oh, that's right, because—"
"Bobby! That's enough. We've got a whole pack of Hellhounds on our tail. We don't have time for this."
Bobby looked unfazed. "Alright, fine." He peered down at Percy, one thick eyebrow arched. "This the new meat?" he broke into a smile, and Percy noticed a small gap between his two front teeth. "Well, he's conscious and unscathed. That's a good sign. Lupa might not eat this one!"
"Bobby, just park the damn chariot."
Percy blinked, before looking at Reyna as if she'd just grown a second head. "Eat me? That's it; I want to go home now."
Reyna ignored him, sauntering over to the chariot. Percy had no choice but to follow.
As he stepped onto the chariot, one of the winged horses glanced at him, and Percy could have sworn the horse smiled.
Welcome, My Lord. It is an honor.
Percy nearly jumped out of the chariot. The horse laughed (as much as a horse could laugh) and took off as Bobby pulled the reins, its golden wings spreading. Percy sat back, clutching his heart. A feeling of overwhelming longing washed over his heart, for the second time today. What the hell was happening to him?
Reyna seemed to be wondering the same thing. She fixed him with a worried look. Her hard expression softened a fraction. For a moment, Percy thought she was going to comfort him. Instead, she said:
"If you're going to puke, at least do it over the side. I just painted this chariot." He gulped, rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous.
"One more stupid question," He paused. "D-do horses normally…uh…talk …to you, by any chance?"
That sounded insane, even to him.
Reyna eyed him warily. "No, they do not. Not even our world is that weird." She eyed him, and seemed to be toying with the idea of calling the straight-jacket patrol. "Perhaps you've been in the sun a tad too long. How long have you been out there?"
"Uh…good question…"
"Pfft, he's probably just crazy," Bobby laughed, grinning that crazy gap-toothed grin. "Yup, you'll fit right in. Let's just hope you've got thick skin, kid. Be a shame if Lupa-"
"Bobby, for the last time shut up." She smacked his arm, and the chariot swerved violently. Percy suspected Bobby had done so on purpose.
"I wouldn't smack your chauffeur." He paused. "Unless, of course, you want to crash." The chariot swerved violently again, before dipping and veering right back up again.
"Bobby, stop it! So help me gods, if you do not stop being such and imbecile I will stick you in a meat-flavored sack and throw you to Lupa's wolves!" Bobby just snickered and shoved some ear buds in his ears ("Bobby David Robbins! You get those earphones out this minute! You're driving a chariot!") Something about her last comment struck him as familiar. How many meat-flavored sacks have I encountered? Man, my life must be pretty damn screwed up.
My Lord! Danger! Up ahead.
W-what?
Percy's head snapped up. A great, writhing mass of murky grey clouds blocked their path far ahead. Lightning forked across, illuminating silhouettes of ghostly horses and humans alike.
"Re—Praetor Greene…" He tugged weakly on the sleeve of her red sweater, his eyes trained ahead. The air was stiff and static-y, smelling of ozone. He might not know much, but he knew that wasn't a good sign.
When has it ever been a good sign, My Lord? Percy shook the horse's voice out of his head.
Reyna looked up from her cell phone-ish device. "Wha—Oh! My gods!" She dropped her device with a dull thud.
"Bobby, stop the chariot." He voice was deadly calm. Bobby, still jamming out on his iPod, didn't seem to hear. "Bobby." She repeated, a little louder, a hysterical edge sharpening her tone. Still nothing. "Bobby! Stop the gods damn chariot RIGHT NOW or we all DIE!"
He jumped, yanking the ear buds out of his ears.
"What do you—holy hell?" He yanked the reins back, and the horses reared back, neighing in fear and panic.
"Down!" Reyna screamed. Her sword was in her hands now, gleaming in the wicked light of the storm. Percy took his own out of his pocket, holding it with shaking hands.
Bobby swerved to avoid a billowing, stormy figure, before pulling he chariot sharply downward, causing Percy's stomach to drop painfully. More spirits zipped by the chariot, crackling with raw electrical energy. He raised his sword, trying to stab the thing, but his blade passed cleanly through it, as if it were made of water. Like a mortal.
"Venti!" Reyna hissed. "You can't kill them unless—"
There was a great crack and a burning smell, cutting off whatever she was going to say. Percy peered over the side of the chariot. Where the wheel had been a moment ago, was now a smoking clump of blackened wood.
"The wheel's out!" Percy hollered over the screaming wind. The chariot tipped violently, and Percy clung to the side to keep from spilling over.
Boom! The chariot shuddered and began to lose altitude on its own.
"Another!" he screamed plastering himself to the side of the chariot. Reyna was clinging to the other side, screaming a strange language into the cell.
"We're going down, Rey!" Bobby screamed, straining at the rains. Rain poured and thunder boomed. They spiraled towards the unforgiving ground, a flurry of feathers, burning wood, and vengeful storm spirits.
Todaaaaaaa! Holy crap that was FIVE AND A HALF PAGES! YAAAAAAAAAY!
(1) Roughly translated to: I've got the new solider. What? Yeah, that one. Come to the square. You have the chariot, right? Good. See you soon. Oh, and make sure Gwen tells Lupa we've got him.
(2) My gods, you're dense!
(3) Not sure what the chariot looked like in SoM. Didn't specify. So I made it up
R&R!
3 TUC
