Two things—1) Last chapter stunk. Like, to the high heavens, smelled like rat manure. I apologize. Again.

2) Thanks for reviewing. Again.

Upon the completion of the painfully long, and unorganized, ceremony, I was shoved deep into doing absolutely nothing. The other gods were suddenly in full-swing, taking their time in completing seemingly tedious tasks. And I left to stand in the center of the throne room, lost, feeling so out-of-place and empty.

Training was the basics; the teleporting, short bursts of pure energy, handling a chariot—it was a simple enough task, as I had done many times before with Blackjack and friends. I was expected to take down a certain number of monsters from the Underworld in minimal time and I felt like I was once again back at camp, training with everyone else.

Some of the challenges were almost an insult, such as the Kampê had been to Annabeth's intellect. I felt like I was hardly being pushed, only expected to hold the same amount of responsibility as a mortal. My powers were unimportant, inconsequential. I ignored the bitter feeling and enjoyed my time of hardly motivating myself to do better.

Hades had taken a certain appeal to me as I was in control of torture, pure suffering, and had taken the task of specialized training into his own hands.

"You have to know when to pity," he would muse and wring his hands, hardly acknowledging my presence. I tried listening to what he offered, and though at first I ignored him, I began to see the sense in what he was saying. I couldn't pity everyone, everything, just because they had a pleading look. Some people were still needed; others were more of ways to take up the empty atmosphere. And I had to acknowledge that.

I had often questioned him; why I was given these powers, rather than the position I had been offered prior to the war. When I would just be the lowly second lieutenant and my life would be joyously spent with my father—I would have preferred living with Triton and Amphitrite than doing Hades' dirty work.

He had explained, impatiently, that the golden apple's each contained a 'twinge of… err, magic in which you receive from them'. It was like the poisoned apple; you'd get the poisoning almost instantly. He had made the comparison of eating chocolate and expecting the results of carrots. "Absolutely ridiculous when you think of it."

And I had to agree—was it not a valid reason? It seemed moderately absurd, yet I put up no argument.

He taught me how to, if necessary, guide a soul—I grimaced at the choice of words—to the record studio, where Charon would take control of them and do what he saw fit.

We continued training like this for the span of a few months before sending me out with whomever I chose. I had considered Ania, but upon remembering the vision from Hestia, quickly chose one whom appeared more, how to put it? Clumsy.

Lupè looked over at me as we trekked through the smog-covered woods, grinning as if a dog had just been revealed to the outside world. "Wow," she mouthed, still staring at me. "I've never had a real master…"

"I'm not," I quickly interjected, "your master. I'm more of the guy you do favors for."

"Do you return the favors?"

I barely managed in time to pause and think about that as we stepped over tree roots and dirt-clumps, Lupè squeezing in the opportunity to trip and have me grab her arms and stable her. "I might."

"I'm alright," she breathed, nervous about where she stepped, and only growing more self-conscious of her footwork; more as her lack of proper footwork. We continued are walk through the Washington state forest, not positive as to where we were going. "Can you see anything, my lord?"

"Please," I stopped my walking and closed my eyes in annoyance. I despised titles. "Please don't call me that."

"Sorry, my…" she looked back at me, "sir?"

"That either," I warned, resuming my walk through the thick fog that blanketed the ground. She slowly began to follow me, staring down at the ground intently; based on the number of times I looked back at her.

Through the clouds of morning mist, a structure began to reveal itself, a looming, run-down house, white paint chipping off. Lupè's lip curling in minor disgust, possibly fear. "This is where the man's dying?"

"I was told he had been bitten by a poisonous snake or something," I shrugged, approaching the house and peering through the window. The entire first floor visible through the window was completely vacant, but there was a faint whooping cough, maybe a crying woman. "C'mon."

I pushed off of the ground, lifting up to the second-story window about nine feet up, and grabbing onto the window pane. Lupè grudgingly followed, managing to remain suspended just a short while longer. I found myself hanging from the pane and cursed under my breath.

"I didn't think this far," I mumbled, glancing over at her. She hung at equal height and found her lower lip jutting out involuntarily. She soon smiled at me and pulled herself up to the window. Much to my surprise, she hardly stumbled as she stepped through the window as a ghost would. She heaved the window open and I pulled myself up. "I didn't know you could do that."

She looked at me, brows furrowed and turned towards a narrow hall. "You never asked."

She took off carelessly down the hallway, searching every room, especially ones that hid behind the white-washed doors, until she came to the one we were seeking, a man lying in bed and a woman at his side. He was deathly pale, as with most house-calls, and purple bags hung under his eyes. On the lower end of his neck, two small puncture wounds were colored a sickly shade of green. My stomach churned as Lupè rushed to his side.

"Poor thing," she sighed. "Probably in a lot of pain. I like it."

I barely gave her a once-over, having become used to the fact that the three sisters often enjoyed pain; like a fuel. I looked upon the man with new eyes, not like the ones I had used on the Andromeda, warning the younger demigod about the explosion that would occur; I looked at him like just another waste of air, as Hades had taught me.

I quietly held out my hand, using all of my energy to focus on his soul, the breath escaping him for a moment, and his eyes fluttering closed. The woman looked at him, horrified, and began whispering his name, shaking him, pounding on his chest. I could only watch for so long before the guilt began to swell inside me.

"Come on," I told Lupè, turning to leave.

I grabbed her arm quickly and pictured Charon's office, teleporting us to the small studio. I once again felt like my body was tearing away from itself, with little to no pain, and arrived at my destination, my companion gripping my hand tightly. I shook her off and stepped into the waiting room. I held out my arm and the soul awkwardly slipped out of my sleeve, standing to full height and glancing around him.

He turned in a complete circle, taking in the chairs, and the transparent people just like him, the smell of death and plague and decay. He appeared to notice me, one of the three solid figures in the room, and gave a questioning gaze. "Am I…"

I nodded.

Before I could watch him break down with shock, I nodded to the clumsy blond beside me and we vanished in a cloud of black sand.

Eh. Again, not my best. Just not feeling it too much.