A/N: I think you guys will really like this chapter. (*coughPercabethcough*) Give me any CC.
THE PAST: Chapter 6 - Hades & Plastic Guitars
"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is; That's what you get for waking up in Vegas"
—Waking Up In Vegas; Katy Perry
~ Falling through a figurative rainstorm isn't the best thing you can do on a Saturday afternoon. After all, Annabeth could be curled up in her cabin, on chapter twenty-eight of her new architect book right now. But no, she's falling through a rainstorm. (Figuratively, of course.) Which brings us back to the topic on hand. All she knows, Reyna—sparkly, beautiful, attention captivating (at least in Percy's opinion) Reyna—pointed at her and poof! Her soul felt like it was being ripped from her body and she was falling, wet particles clinging to her skin like rain. Ears pounding, head rushing, blood pumping. She's falling, head over heels. (And it has nothing to do with love.) She can barely collect herself before she turns one more time and tumbles into a hard, flat surface. It's so... hot. Dark. ~
~o~
Green eyes and sweat dripping down her brow. Those are the first things Annabeth's aware of. She sits up with a groan, elbow skinned and throbbing. Green Eyes is still looking at her, she can feel his stare. (Don't ask her how.) Blinking the moisture out of her eyes, she turns to address him with another hefty sigh.
Her mouth opens to lecture him on the rudeness of staring and how it's right up there with finger pointing, but then promptly falls shut. Um.
Annabeth's brain's doing overtime, still catching up. Percy stands there, gaze expectant and impatient, muscles tensed—Whoa. Muscles? She squints. Yep. He's taller, and she obviously doesn't have the ego-booster of being able to see the top of his head anymore. He grins lightly, and she's struck by how... amazing he looks. Which is weird. Totally weird.
"Oh gods." she says appreciatively, before snapping her mouth closed, pressing it into a firm line. Since when did she become impulsive? This doesn't make any sense. Until she remembers. Reyna.
So she's fifteen now. Oh-kay. If she's fifteen, Percy is too. And that will explain this whole thing. He has freaking abs. The world has gone to Hades.
Grover moans at her side and she turns; checking his pulse simply for the sake of having something to do. Percy's eyes bore into the side of her head. She shakes Goat-Boy awake and takes note of his goatee, the horns poking up, no longer hidden by his curly hair. She slaps his Rasta cap back on his head before he's fully conscious.
"So," she starts. "Any idea where we are?"
Green eyes narrow down, seeing right through her. "Um. Somewhere hot?" his voice raises at the end, questioningly. Annabeth sighs, because obviously, she's back to doing all the work. She stands, her knees making a painful cracking noise. How long have they been lying there anyway?
Grover stands behind her, bothering her by the fact that she is now the shortest person in their group. She walks from under the shade of the alley into the bright, unmerciful sun. Squinting, she can easily guess where they are. Casinos, mini-pyramids, fake palm trees and two—no three—replicas of the Eiffel Tower. A place with no architectural feats whatsoever. A place where there's more glitter and overly-priced mementos than people.
"Vegas," she says, turning once to make sure they're following her. "Come on. We need..." the heat and exhaust from the cars make the air in front of her shimmer and wave. "Water."
~o~
Two hours and fifty liters of sweat later, they still haven't found a place that will give free water to a bunch of dirty teenagers.
"It's the hat!" Grover says while they trudge through yet another empty alleyway. "It's just so pure genius—I mean look at this thing," he points to the battered hat on his head, colored in extravagant red, yellow, and green; grinning wildly. Annabeth's sure it's the heat getting to him, if nothing else. "My hat is such a pure work of art it's offending all of those lousy casino owners. Because, duh, of course they'd want one! But it's limited edition! So I really have to apologize, guys. It's all my fault we're not getting any water." he finishes, not looking the least bit apologetic.
Annabeth huffs, her hair plastered to the side of her face. And she considers, just for a few seconds, chopping it all off with her dagger. Maybe ripping up Grover's hat while she's at it, too. Just to be helpful.
They turn the corner of the amazingly-long alley, and hit a dead end. A complete dead end. She feels like crying. Grover's the first down, slumping against the annoying brick wall that had to bethere, blocking her way. He's still muttering about hats. She follows, because she's nothing if not practical. They're completely lost.
It's too quiet, though. Something's off.
"Where's Percy?" she whispers to Grover, stomach sinking. "Oh gods, we freaking lost him!" She's mulling over when she had last seen him when he rounds the corner, face naturally unconcerned. She should have known. Right then, she decides she's too exhausted to yell at him.
"I found water!" he declares, hands shoved in his pockets, t-shirt drenched with sweat. Annabeth's eyebrows shoot up. "There's a casino you guys walked right past—the bellman there's insanely nice," he continues, eyes alight with excitement. "He said we could come in for free, but I had to get you guys first. Come on, hurry up!"
Percy pulls both Annabeth and Grover to their feet, practically buzzing with barely contained excitement. Annabeth almost gets swept up in the joy of fresh cold water and nice people, but hesitates. There's something... almost drugged about Percy's demeanor, the unnatural glint in his eyes. She crosses and uncrosses her arms, stuck.
Percy shifts from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder every other second. They stand there in the sunlight for two more minutes until he obviously can't wait any longer. He grabs Annabeth's hand - stop daydreaming- and yanks her along.
"Percy, are you high?" she asks quizzically. He just looks at her. Grover's now leading the way, unable to resist Percy's manic excitement. And when they reach the front doors, Annabeth understands why.
It's beautiful; from the carvings on the door frame to the elaborate molds along the walkway. It's beautiful, and frankly, kind of hard to miss.
"I can't believe I didn't see this. Are you sure we passed this way?" she questions, head tilted to the side. Percy's bouncing. He's like... like an annoying puppy or something. "Because—" she pauses. Did she really just smell that? A heavenly perfume wafts from the doorway, reaching her nose and pulling her towards it. What was she doing here again? "Come on guys, let's go in." she says. Her voice sounds dreamy, trance-like; which should probably be alarming. But it's the best smell she's ever smelled and she just has to see where it's coming from.
Percy and Grover look relieved. They step inside. Big mistake.
The lobby is extravagant. There are more games than she can count, and she can count for a pretty long time. Kids and teenagers run from station to station, smiling those face-splitting smiles that can only come from pure happiness. The whole room is decorated neon, strobe lights flashing. It should be disorienting, but it's not—which makes it even more fascinating.
"Welcome, to the Lotus Inn and Casino!" a voice screams in her ear, all fake-cheesy-show-host style. A man with slicked back hair and an expensive suit waltzes up to them. "I do hope you enjoy your stay." he shoves cash cards into their hands and strolls off. Grover's face looks blank.
"What just happened?" Percy asks.
Grover grins boyishly. "I don't know!" he answers, like it's the best thing in the world; to be clueless.
Annabeth looks around. It's paradise, but something feels wrong. It's that weird feeling she's been getting since this whole thing began. And each time, she's listened to it.
"Guys, we're not staying here for long, okay? We just need some... some water," It feels like a cloud is passing over her eyes. What did they need to do again? And what was her name? "Uh," They were looking for something. Weren't they? "Rooms! Yeah, rooms. Let's just go... to our... rooms."
"Yeah..." Percy answers dreamily. "Rooms."
~o~
And so begins, as Annabeth likes to put it, their descent into hell. (Or Hades. Whatever you fucking-want-to-call-it.)
~o~
The next few days are a whirlwind of fun, fun, fun. There's always something nagging at the back of her mind, but she ignores it. She hasn't laughed this much in ages. It doesn't seem like hell (Hades) but it is. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself when she's caught having too much fun. Laughing all day long can't be healthy. Side effects, right?
She learns a lot of things. Like Percy hates pickles but loves blue food. Any blue food. (Well, except for blue pickles. He says they're just gross.) Plus, she's pretty good at video games and is killer at the water-slide races, even though Percy tries to cheat every other time. Grover's taking a liking to Guitar Hero, or at least a rip off of it. He's beaten all the high scores ever completed in the hotel. Plus, it's really funny seeing him jump up and down with the fake guitar, curls bouncing.
Life is fun if you live it the right way, she thinks. And damn, this is definitely the right way.
But she can't sleep. She can't sleep no matter how hard she tries, no matter how much she exhausts herself throughout the day. She can't sleep, and that's how she learns so much about Percy.
Turns out, he can't sleep either.
"Let's play a game," he says at quarter after twelve. She cocks an eyebrow, but he continues anyway. He's not giving this one up. "It's called 'Truths'. You take turns answering questions—any questions at all—completely truthfully. You lie, you're immediately disqualified. Whoever cracks first loses." They sit on a balcony overlooking the city; and his eyes shine, reflecting off the moon above them. "You game?" he grins a devilish, fifteen-year-old grin (she's still getting used to that) and she laughs.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asks, crossing her legs next to him Indian-style on the green-and-white striped pool chair. "But," she holds up a finger. "I go first."
Percy shoves her lightly in protest, but doesn't say anything. Annabeth starts because Percy's still grinning. "What," she pauses, picking at the hem of her shorts, "Is your favorite color?"
He just stares at her for a few seconds, then doubles over laughing. "That," he chokes, red-faced and still snickering, "Was the stupidest question I have ever heard." Annabeth crosses her arms indignantly, waiting.
"You going to answer the question, or is too hard for that seaweed brain of a head to process?"
Percy stops laughing.
"Wha—what?" he asks, eyes round. "What did you just say?" Annabeth stirs her ginger ale.
"Um. I asked if my question was too hard for you to process? Because if it is, Percy, it's fine, really. Just, uh, say so." she replies, half joking. His eyes are still round.
"No! No, before that." Frankly, Annabeth doesn't feel like playing these games, but answers anyway.
"Seaweed brain?"
Her mind races. Seaweed brain. Where have I heard that? I—
"Yeah. Isn't that, um, some old movie from the 80s? I used to watch it with my mom all the time." his eyes look cloudy again. She decides to ignore it.
"Uh-huh. Sure. So are you going to answer the question?" This seems to jolt him out of whatever trance he was in. He answers proudly that it's blue.
"I thought you would've guessed that, you being a know-it-all daughter of Athena." he taunts, eyes gleaming. She won't take the bait.
"Isn't it your turn, smarty pants?"
"Yes, yes it is." Silence.
"Are you going to. Ask. The. Question?"
"Yup."
"..."
"I'm thinking!"
"Well there's a shock!"
"Shut up! I can't think over your ranting!"
"Well I can't think over your stupidity!"
"That doesn't even make any sense...?"
"..."
"..."
"You're right."
"..."
"..."
"Got it!"
Annabeth exhales slowly, counting to ten. "Well then, Percy. What is it?" she asks slowly. Why does he have such a unique talent of pissing her off?
"I forgot."
She throws up her hands. "That's it, I'm out of here," Annabeth gets up, all ready for a smooth exit, when she knocks over that damn ginger ale. "Ugh! Shit."
She mops up the sticky soda with her jacket. "Okay. Now I'm out of here!" Percy tugs on her arm just as she turns to go, and their combined momentum sends her tumbling onto the pool chair.
"Mmph," Percy protests. "You're crushing me!"
"Well you're the one who pulled me on freaking top of you!" she exclaims. "What did you expect?" She pulls her head back, eyes level with his... lips. They looks smooth, round, pink-ish, soft...
"Annabeth?" She startles. He's staring down at her. "Do I have something in my teeth?"
She doesn't answer though, because she's staring at those lips again. And the bridge of his nose, four tiny freckles splattered across it. His eyelashes, again too long... and his eyes... Staring right at her. Gods.
"Uh, you know when you're fifteen? Is that usually when hormones kick in?" she blurts. His eyebrows raise, disappearing under the flop of hair across his forehead.
"I... don't know...?"
She feels like jumping off the balcony.
"Gods, sorry. I didn't mean it like that... I just... I... Um," He's staring at her with such intensity it's scaring her. "Now am I the one with something in my teeth?" she jokes feebly. He ignores her, still staring. Then his head is moving a little closer and - oh gods. (Again.)
Annabeth's always hated those cheesy romance novels, the ones that describe first kisses—or any kisses at all—as ooey-gooey marshmallow-y. Those lame books she always laughs at, the ones where the main character thinks kisses are fireworks, thousands of brilliant colors exploding as two lips touch. (Not that she's ever read one, nonsense.) She's always hated them, but never known why. It was just a fact of life, as much of a given as her hair was yellow and her mom was a goddess. Just there. Like this.
Percy's lips touch hers for oh, maybe five seconds, but it's long enough for her to realize all of those stupid books were true. She's seeing thousands of colors explode. (It's pretty cool, actually.)
He pulls away first, waiting for her reaction. She just sits there, cheeks red.
"Gods Annabeth, I'm so sorry... I don't know what I was thinking and..." He trails off, running his fingers through his hair, managing to make it stick up even more.
"No," she says, watching as his eyes drop and his uncertain smile disappear. "Don't apologize."
His smile's contagious, and she guesses hers is too.
Grover finds them the next morning, curled up on the pool chair, fast asleep.
~o~
She's visited by a goddess the next morning.
Out of all of Greek's royal, immortal family, Hera just keeps popping up. (Not that she's complaining, it's almost as cool as meeting the Queen of England.)
Her mouth is pressed tight, and something like ever-so-slightly contained anger burns in her eyes. Maybe the Queen of England is a better option.
"So, I heard of your... shenanigans last night." Annabeth's face turns red before she realizes it doesn't have to. How's it Hera's any business?
"How's it any of your business?" She knows she won't be zapped into ashes because (the gods hate to admit), she's needed. Annabeth can tell by the way Hera's fingers twitch that she realizes it too.
"It's entirely my business, little girl. Do you realize how much this is going to change things?" she rages, pacing. Annabeth's eyes narrow.
"What do you mean, 'change things'?" she asks, hands fluttering around her collarbone. "Change things how? You aren't changing things, right?" she realizes she's panicking five seconds too late. Her hands swing to a stop by her sides. Hera regards her with cool indifference. It annoys her, because that's what she does.
Hera glances at the imaginary watch on her slender wrist. "Oh, look at the time!" she says sarcastically. "I have to go, so I'm cutting this whole little detour short. Ready to forget?" The Queen of the Gods perfectly plucked left eyebrow arches.
"Forget?" Annabeth sputters. Horror rises in her chest—no. She wouldn't do that. Hera taps her size seven stilettos on the tile floor. She would. "Hera, please, no—you don't know how... you can't..." she struggles for words.
Hera smiles a tiny little smile. A tiny little evil smile. And the words resonate in Annabeth's head once again. Of course she would forget them.
Annabeth and Percy will be separated and that's that!
Her life's a joke.
Hera snaps. She feels woozy, dizzy and uncoordinated.
Don't forget. Percy kissed you. He kissed you.
A thick cloud hovers over her head, and she ducks, knowing she's just prolonging the improbable.
Percy kissed you. He kissed you.
It settles on her shoulders and in her eyes like a dust cloud. She tries to brush it away but it sticks.
Kissed you. He kissed you.
Her vision's all blurry and she has the worst headache. Where is she?
You. He kissed you.
Then the pain sets in. It burns every inch of her body, her forgetting. More dusty-cloud-thing.
He kissed you.
She's floating - literally, she thinks. Not entirely sure right now, though. She chokes on the particles of the cloud.
Kissed you.
Then it kind of explodes; a great giant ball of, well, fluff. Ish. It burns as she tries to remember something - anything.
You.
It's dark. Again.
~o~
When the cloud lifts, Annabeth's in a huge room—and there are so many books. She thinks she might be dreaming so she pinches her arm just to be sure. What's going on? She doesn't remember anything.
"Um... Annabeth? Hello? You're kind of staring off into space." Percy's smiling face comes to focus inches away from hers. What the heck? She's so disoriented it's funny.
"I... Where am I?" Annabeth's hair is disheveled and she's not wearing her Camp Half-Blood t-shirt anymore. Where is the gods damn thing? "How did I get here?" She looks around. They're obviously in a library; a fancy one at that. Books line every single wall, stacked high to the ceiling. But that's really all she knows.
"The Lotus Hotel. We've been here for three days. Are you sure you're okay?" Okay, hold on.
"What the fuck?" is all she manages. Percy takes several (surprisingly wise) steps back, holding up his hands in surrender. "Three days... three days... We have to get. Out."
Annabeth jumps to her feet, but Percy gently blocks her with his arm.
"Why?" The question's so simple she's at a loss for words. One whispered question and she's rendered speechless by a boy with green eyes still clutching her arm.
"Do you really not remember anything about the hotel?" he asks, eyes so innocent it kills her.
"Yes," she replies. She remembers their quest... searching for water for two whole hours. Then Percy rounding the corner. All of a sudden she's here. "What... what's today's date? Oh gods, Percy move. We have to leave. Now." He lowers his arm, just barely. It's in front of her hips, still blocking her. Why is he so strong?
"Wait. You said..." he hesitates, struggling. "You said you never wanted to leave. I thought..." he trails off, eyes distant. Annabeth places two hands on her hips.
"What?" she practically hisses. Judging by the way he flinches back, she's gone too far. But she's so confused. The world is insane. She has no idea where her mind has been for the past three days. She wants answers, but it doesn't seem like he has any. "You know what? I don't have time for this," she continues, hating how mean she sounds. But you try having a seventy-two hour gap in your brain. "Tell Grover to pack. We're leaving."
The hurt in his eyes is fiercely... there. Not hidden. Anyone could look at him and know he's in pain, which bothers her even more. It's called filtering your expressions. She shoves past him, pushing the doors open. She leaves at a run.
Grover, Grover, got to find Grover, she chants to her footsteps. She starts to feeling dizzy again, but she can't lose focus. Annabeth pulls the neck of her shirt up to cover her nose. She can't smell those Lotus flowers.
Grover's at a music-themed station with a crowd cheering around him. Guitar in hand—singing awfully, mind you—he's on a ten minute streak. Kids clap and hoot, dancing in a circle around him. She shoves through, putting her elbows to good use.
"Grover!" she screams over the music. "Grover, we have to leave!" he's completely emotionless to the real world, eyes glazed over. And then she knows what to do. Bending down, Annabeth follows the trail of the cord plugged into the machine, yanking it out. The screen goes blank, and twenty teenagers start booing. Grover's eyes clear.
"What the nuts, Annabeth? I was just about to beat my highest score! I was on a role!" he shouts. She's never heard him raise his voice before, only on enchilada night at Camp Half-Blood. ("Could you please save that salsa for me?")
Reaching out, she shakes his shoulders, hard. "Grover, listen to me. You're under some kind of trance. Whatever you do, don't breath through your nose. We have to leave, okay?" his eyes widen with realization.
"Lotus Inn and Casino... Lotus flowers!" he bleats. He drops his plastic guitar like it's on fire, holding his nose. "Let's go get Percy!"
They meet him at the back exit, standing solemnly, shoes untied, three backpacks slung across his shoulder. He hands them to Annabeth silently. It's the most he's ever gone without talking in her presence, she's pretty sure. She should be rejoicing, but the victory's not there. The light in his eyes is gone. She'll ask about that later.
Escaping is actually pretty easy. Standing in a deserted parking lot when it's a hundred and ten degrees outside and Grover's rediscovered his reed pipes, though, is not. Descent. Into. Hell. (Hades.)
Yay.
~o~
Annabeth's never felt so stupid. They spent a week—a whole gods damn week—in the Lotus Casino. Inn. Whatever. Even worse, no one's willing to give them a ride. She consoles herself by concluding that hitch hiking isn't the best idea, considering it's the twenty-first century. All sorts of awful things can happen to you by sticking out a thumb. Annabeth's heard the stories. So that's out. Grover protests for a little while, until she tells him one of them. That shuts him up. Percy just rolls his eyes.
And then, his freaking orb starts glowing. They're on the side of the East-52 freeway, in plain, vulnerable sight. She panics, and then... There. There's a ditch maybe twenty yards away, sloping downwards, out of view of the cars on the road. She grabs his arm and runs.
Six yards away it starts flickering. Five and he's doubled over in pain. Four and Annabeth has the genius idea of telling him to take it off. Three. Two. One, they jump and roll. Then it splits open.
The annoying thing is, when Reyna streams out, Percy smiles at her. He's all dusty and gross and has just ran forty feet all thanks to her; and he smiles. Smiles. She doesn't have the same hospitality.
"What do you fucking want now? Didn't we just talk to you?" She glares at the iridescent form.
Reyna smiles lightly at her. "Technically, I talked to you three years ago." Annabeth frowns.
"Long time no intrusion."
"Well, I guess I just missed you," is Reyna's sarcastic reply.
"Oh, gee, thanks. But no thanks," Annabeth just notices Percy and Grover have been watching them argue like a tennis match, heads swiveling back and forth. "What, are you turning us into forty-year-olds now?" she closes her eyes in mock fear, laying a dramatic hand over her forehead. "Please, just get it over with."
"Lay off, Annabeth. Jeez. What did she do to you?" Percy says to her. Annabeth's shocked by this sudden betrayal.
"I am shocked by this sudden betrayal." Oh, the melodrama. She should really consider a career in acting. Or she's woozy from lack of sleep.
"No, I'm just here to do your ungrateful little ass a favor. Another one, need I remind you," Reyna says, smirking. Annabeth starts protesting, but she speaks over her. "I'm going to allow you free transportation to Los Angeles," She pauses, as if waiting for an applause. When she doesn't get one, she continues dryly, "Oh, don't rush to thank me."
Percy makes an oddly empathetic face. "Reyna... what's the matter? You seem like something's bothering you." Reyna's sarcastic expression wavers. Annabeth hates the way he's looking at her.
"I... I—we just thought you guys would be finished by now. Long finished." she says, words tumbling over each other. She covers her mouth, like she's said too much.
"We?" Is Percy's answer, eyebrows drawn together.
"I can't really say anymore. Shouldn't have said anything in the first place," Reyna waves her hand in front of her face. "Anyways. Let's get a move on, people."
And from the air, a portal appears.
"Who are you, Reyna the Magic Women? Houdini's twin sister?" Annabeth snipes. Reyna ignores her.
"Step right up." she says, motioning towards the portal.
Percy's suddenly wary. "After you." he says, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. He always does that when he's thinking.
Reyna looks hurt for maybe two milliseconds, then complies.
"See, nothing to worry abou—" she says, voice echoing. Grover peers down the portal, face green.
"Well." Percy says, looking grim. "Let's, uh, save my mom. And get the Master Bolt. Can't forget that," Then he jumps. "It's fine! Perfectly fi -"
Annabeth looks down, and walks straight in.
~o~
Los Angeles is dirty, to say the least. She's kind of let down—the L.A. in the movies is gorgeous, palm trees waving and celebrities walking with designer bags along Beverly Hills.
They had tumbled out of the portal onto an abandoned lot, overgrown with grassy weeds. Annabeth gets a mouthful of dandelions and various flower-impostors. She groans as she spits them out. Nature tastes horrible.
"Deja vu, much?" Percy jokes from next to her, his grin making a half-moon on his face. She can't look him in the eye, and it's weirding her out.
Reyna, of course, lands gracefully from the portal, brushing off her toga delicately. Annabeth wishes she would just change back into her dirty jeans, try to fit in a little. Make an attempt, at least.
"So," Reyna starts, eyeing a suspicious-looking hobo pushing a shopping cart across the street. "We need to get to the Underworld."
"What do you mean, we?" Annabeth questions, pulling a leaf (and a couple sticks) from her hair.
"I can accompany you to the entrance, but no further," she answers. "No direct interference from the alternate-future." The edges of her mouth tip down while she says this, like the concept is too terrible to even understand. Because really, an alternate-future?
"I really wish you'd tell us more about this future thing," Annabeth says, rummaging through her backpack. They only have three pieces of ambrosia left between them. "It's hard to complete crap quests when you know nothing about said crappy quest. I need details."
Plus, she wants to know if Thalia survived this alternate version.
Reyna holds up her hands helplessly. "I honestly wish I could tell you, guys. But it would ruin everything."
Sure you do, Annabeth thinks.
Percy stands up, looking weary. "That'd be great Reyna, really. Thanks for your help."
"It's my job." she replies, her toga materializing into a t-shirt and another pair of abused jeans.
Annabeth sighs in relief. Wouldn't want to scare any wandering crazies.
"The entrance to the Underworld," Grover says as they walk down the street. "That sounds... ominous, don't you think?" His teeth chatter.
Reyna smiles like he's an old friend. "Actually, no. It isn't scary at all—unless you're afraid of poorly recorded demos and 40s music," she answers, head tilted to the side as she walks. "The entrance to the Underworld is about five blocks away—DOA Recording Studios."
~o~
DOA Recording Studios is ominous, in a way. The brass double doors and sweeping windows give off an air of expensive merchandise and few customers, so Annabeth's surprised when she sees the lobby packed.
"This is just great," she hisses in Percy's ear. "How are we supposed to enter the Underworld with all of these mortals hanging around?" She hates how the panic is evident in her voice. Percy strains his head towards the lobby, taking in the crowd. His face is pale.
"I don't think those are mortals." he whispers back. His hand is shaking slightly as he points to one of them. Annabeth barely contains her gasp.
There's a man, maybe middle aged, sitting on one of the chairs in the lobby. He looks normal, until you look at his face. Or at the thing that once was his face. It's a black and red mess, impossible to make out any features except his mouth. Gunshot wound, probably. He smiles gruesomely. She feels sick.
"The dead. Ghosts." Percy whispers in her ear. She shudders as a little girl walks by with a severed rope around her neck.
"I—I can't." she shudders. Percy's warm hand envelops hers, and she feels horrible about whatever she did to hurt him.
"I know," he answers, voice uncharacteristically soothing. "I can't stop thinking... about my mom." His expression is poignantly pained. She squeezes his hand without thinking. He looks at her sadly. What did she do to him? What doesn't she remember?
Reyna and Grover catch up, and Annabeth watches as Grover's face turns white. I know the feeling, buddy, she thinks. Been there, done that.
Reyna, to her credit, looks a little queasy as she guides them up to the front desk. A thin man wearing an expensive suit peers down at them over wire-rimmed spectacles. They're like a one-way mirror—Annabeth can't see anything in them except her own face, wide eyes staring back at her.
"Why hello," he says meticulously, his accent sounding strange and foreign. "You aren't dead at all. In fact, you're quit alive, I'd like to say."
"Thank you...?" Percy replies before Annabeth elbows him in the gut. She steps forward.
"Um, yeah. Hi..." she looks down, squinting to make out his name tag, which is pinned neatly on the lapel of his suit. "...Charon," she finishes as he nods his approval. She twists her hands nervously under the cover of her windbreaker. "See, we need to ask a little favor. We have to get into the Underworld. Now."
The man—Charon—stares at her. It goes on for so long she wonders if he even heard her, if he's fallen asleep under those mysterious glasses. Then he tips them downwards, as if to get a better look at her. She's met with two empty sockets, his bronze skin contrasting eerily with the dark holes. Chills run up her spine.
"Well, little girl. That's a huge, and I'm afraid, impossible request." he flicks his glasses back up, clearly dismissing them. Anger bubbles inside of her.
"Now you wait," she exclaims. "My friends and I have traveled across the country—"
"Um, my portals did help you!" Reyna cuts in, finger raised. Percy shoots her a look. She looks at him and shrugs.
"—and risked our butts to get here! We have sacrificed so much, and you will not—will not—ruin that for us. Now let us down there."
Charon is deadly quiet.
"Please?" she adds, somewhat feebly. Hey, it won't help if Charon vaporizes her.
"You insolent little brat," he spits at her. "I will not stand for your babbling. You have no right to talk like to your immortal elders that way. If you want to go to the Underworld so bad, why don't I just send you there, the easy way?" he threatens, voice rasping like a snake. He reaches towards a huge black button, the word 'Imminent Death' scrawled across it in block print.
"It's like one of those Easy buttons they sell at Staples." Grover remarks.
Charon's just about to press the Easy button that will end her life, when the elevator doors to their right ding open. Gruesome spirits part in panic.
A beautiful women, despite her pale skin and limp hair, steps towards them. She wears a dress woven with interchangeable flowers, which flicker and glow in the dim room. In her hand is a single pomegranate.
"Persephone," Reyna whispers urgently. "I have to go guys, and quick. I'm not supposed to be helping you. Good luck!" With that, she flashes away as Percy's pendant glows.
The goddess approaches, looking regal and calm. She whispers something in Charon's ear. His eyebrows shoot up.
"Ah, yes. Yes, I see." he says to Persephone begrudgingly. She winks at them and disappears in a cloud of flowers.
Charon laces his fingers together on top of his desk. "It seems like you three are, ah, needed down there after all," he says to them, lip curled with disdain. "I can't refuse the boss's orders, so... Follow me." Charon raises with a swish, walking towards the elevator. He stands there, pressing buttons. The clock above the elevator stops. He motions for them to come, as his Italian suit melts into a long, black robe.
Percy's eyes shine with energy and anticipation, while Grover turns three shades paler. She turns towards them.
"Guys, we're in."
A/N: You know what would make me smile uncontrollably and probably squeal a little? A review from you, lovely. For more darkness, Percabeth, and Reyna-Percy sexual tension, visit my one-shot, 'Heroes'. Yup.
Ciao,
~Selena
