Chapter 8 - Die Another Day
Rex was, unfortunately, hyper aware of his situation and every sensation. He could feel the jagged feathers tear his skin further when pulled from his muscles, then cool liquid would seep into the tissue. He heard a crisp voice cut through the painful haze and throbbing bass hum, "He's going into shock. Kayla, give him some heat." The air and his skin warmed considerably, when white steaks began to swim across his vision. He couldn't see, he realized. He couldn't feel the surgery either. Was this Death? It'd taken its sweet time, he thought.
He was in a vast, white expanse with a spot of black hurtling towards him on the horizon. Rex felt his sword in his grip and braced himself. The black spot was revealed to be man, wrapped in a tattered black cloak and hood. Black, feathered wings stretched behind him. His skin and eyes were dark and he carried a sense of dread, but to Rex it felt like liberation. He halted in front of Rex.
"Requiem Haze?"
"I am."
"I ain't got a lot of time to talk, son, 'cause it's not YOUR time, catch my drift?"
Rex furrowed his eyebrows behind his aviator sunglasses. "Who are you?"
"I'm Thanatos, or I'm trying to get Thane to catch on, ya know? You'd probably want to call me dad or something, I guess."
Rex gritted his teeth. "You're... my father?" Rex swung his sword, wide and sloppy, at the god. Thane fell to the ground to avoid it.
"Whoa! Where'd you get that sword?"
"A hysminae," Rex pushed through clenched teeth, "What, is she actually my mother?" He struck downwards on his last word, and Thane rolled out of the way.
"Son, don't make me use force."
Rex took two more swipes, "Take your best shot, you son of a bitch!"
The white realm wavered. "You're waking up. I want to say see you later, but that's sort of sentencing you to another near-death experience. I can't apologize for what's happened to you, Requiem. Death incarnate is a busy job, ya know."
Rex charged with a vengeance now, only for the world to dispel. He jolted upright on the table in the infirmary. Jonah, Will, Kayla, and Liam were laughing and grinning. "Ha-hah! Camp Half-Blood one, Death zero!" The lean one said. The bright one was beaming.
"Suck it, Thanatos," he bragged. Will and Jonah fist bumped over his confused body and went to breakfast to celebrate with Liam and Kayla, leaving the issue to Chiron. Since he was in the attic with May, the questing demigods entered the infirmary, empty except for Rex' heavy breathing.
Rose sat down on the table at his side, facing him. "What's your name? Who are you?"
He slowed his breathing with conscious act of will. "I- I'm Requiem Haze… I'm Rex."
Lou interrupted, trying to keep the quest on her heart. "Are you the Deathspawn?"
He looked at her through his dark sunglasses. His gaze chilled her spine but sent a rush through her, like when she fought in the Titan War. Unbridled adrenaline coursed through her and she could feel her pulse in every inch of skin. "I am. I am the son of Thanatos." The silence returned to the room and Rex' inquisitive nature welled again. "How does Death have kids?"
Aaron smirked. "Veeeeeery carefully."
Lou elbowed him without looking, keeping her eyes on Rex. Rose's sympathetic instinct was kicking in. "Rex, I know you're new to the demigod thing," Rose said, "But we have a really important quest that you have to be in."
"Quests?" He seemed genuinely interested. "Is that why the god sent me here?"
Aaron's mouth hung on a hinge at that. "You were sent by a GOD?"
"His name was Plutus. He gave me a lot of money and the address to the camp."
Rose registered the name in her academic mind. "Plutus, the god of wealth, particularly the riches under the earth. Where'd you get the sword?"
"A hysminae named Clara." No expression flickered in his face with this statement. A testament to the oddity of being a demigod, Aurum mused. She was entertained by the thought until she laid her gaze on the aforementioned weapon, protruding from the bag at the tableside.
It was as if cold lightning had been wrapped in indestructible, abysmal steel. Aurum could sense the impression of power, its history, like when she had seen Percy. It had reaped death spanning uncountable centuries and realms. 'Soulreaper…' it whispered in malevolence and darkness. Aurum was shuddering when she felt Rex. The demigod was enigmatic, with the thrill of freedom wrapped in depression and cynicism. His spirit was haunted and tortured, expressed solely in his unbridled hatred. She couldn't tear her eyes away, and was startled when she found he had met her gaze with his own. Silence had fallen as they examined each other.
Rex saw the shadows cast by legacy. The deaths that had clung to her skin and followed the girl daily. She was a kind and understanding spirit, a contradiction to everything that she should be.
Mutual understanding, fear, and respect emanated in their intuitive connection. Chiron then made his entrance on squeaking wheels, May on silent feet behind him. He rolled between the aisle of demigods and to Rex. "Who might you be?"
Rex knew the type and dismissed him. The snarky old man who went on about his generation. That's what this was, right? Magic camp for warriors, for soldiers. He found his voice and hated unwittingly seeped in.
"My name is Rex Haze, and I'm the son of Death."
Chiron just smiled, a thrilling smile. "Good. I need to speak with you."
Percy crawled through the scalding sands of Tartarus, on hands and knees. He could make out what looked like a cavern roof in the sky, but the inky blackness still hung ominously over the horizon. Percy brushed away any morbid thoughts. He was the savior of Olympus, a Titanslayer. He wouldn't meet his end in this desert, no, he resolved. The plateau was within reach, just a quarter mile now. He would reach this plateau, some nice monster would give him directions to the nearest exit, he'd hop over an Underworld river and go his merry way, go home to his Wise Girl.
Oh, Annabeth, he took a moment to pause and reflect on her. Her honey colored, curly hair and sweet scent… now replaced by the rotting stench of Tartarus. Her stormy grey eyes, distracted by a thousand thoughts until he caught her gaze. People tended to talk about Percy's eyes, but he knew Annabeth's were beyond comprehension. The eyes were the window to the soul, he'd heard. He assumed this meant Annabeth's soul was perfect, beautiful, complementary to his own.
His Wise Girl. As the sands burned his palms and bare knees, as the incomprehensible, tangible evil of Tartarus bore down on his heart, all he could think about was not survival. It was Annabeth. When he got back, not if, when he got back, he would wrap her in his arms and never let go. He'd take her to the bottom of the lake, where they'd shared their first real kiss... Mount Saint Helens would be much less romantic, he thought.
A wild crackling erupted behind him, echoing through the stillness of the desert. It grew louder, inhuman cries of agony began to accompany it. He turned around to see a blazing fire, dozens of meters high, racing across the desert. The scalding sands were transformed into glistening glass by the unnatural heat. Percy kicked into overdrive, scrambling to his feet and scattering sand all around. He sprinted to the plateau, the wildfire rolled at his heels. He was sprinting again, shoving through exhaustion. Air and arid smoke scorched his lungs and flames licked at his back. He reached the plateau, wincing as the heat scratched at his Achilles heel.
He lept up and began to climb, the heat singing hairs on his legs. Within a few seconds he was above the fire, hanging on the craggy cliff. For a moment, he wasn't fleeing certain death. He was running to Annabeth. At that thought, he hauled himself up, his arms and legs burning with exertion, his heart painfully beating at his sternum. Annabeth was waiting. Annabeth… was… waiting.
His Nikes were melting together, sticking to the rock as he climbed. The fire surrounded the plateau now and Percy hung over a sea of flames. Not his kind of sea, he thought. He hauled himself up to the plateau as evil laughter boomed from the roaring blaze. Hot winds buffeted Percy on the plateau. There are monsters in Tartarus so terrifying, no Greek could imagine them. He soon realized that his isolation was not as solitary as he thought.
Three nude empousai were huddled on the ground, unshrouded by Mist. They stirred at the misplaced scent and slowly, groggily stood. Two stretched like cats awaking from a long slumber, while the third, who appeared to be their leader, glared daggers with her fiery eyes. Percy swore when recognition flickered in his mind. "Hiya, Kelli. Long time, no see!" His own voice felt foreign here.
She hissed, and rushed him with unnatural speed. Percy shifted into a fighting stance, fists clenched. She sprung, not seeking to drain his life. She sought brutal vengeance. Percy was too slow and she tackled him to the ground, slicing at his face and chest with bloodstained claws. Her snarling fangs hung over his face, flinging saliva into his face. Kelli's claws sparked off of Percy's tanned skin, now reddened by the heat. Percy grabbed a speeding wrist and crushed it in his grip. She howled in pain and he gripped her shoulders and shoved her off of the plateau, where she dissolved into flames. He grinned at the relative ease of her defeat, a testament to his growth, until he recalled how empousai work.
The other two did not forsake tradition, instead attempting to seduce him. They tried to flaunt their bodies and beguile him with sweet words, but Percy had a flawless defense. His Wise Girl, waiting. Annabeth was waiting. He rushed the two empousai. One was too surprised to avoid, and was caught by Percy's shoulder. She was reeling, while the other raked claws across his back. He briefly panicked at her proximity to his only vulnerable spot. He slung his upper body forward, kicking backwards with a leg and impacting square in the empousa's chest. She skidded across the stone while Percy once again went after the first empousa. He punched her twice, then kicked her off the plateau. She didn't dissolve, just fell with an animalistic cry of pain. The second empousa had made a comeback, grabbing Percy around the neck and draining his life.
Air rushed out of his lungs and pain in his muscles began to fade away. His eyesight dimmed and the crackle of the fire quieted. Percy couldn't resist, he was miserable here. What could be worth trekking through this hell? What was worth Tartarus, worth fates more horrible than death?
At least in death, he would be granted Elysium. Perhaps even the Isles of the Blessed, depending on his past lives, but here, in Tartarus?
There was no hope. There was no sympathy. There was no life. There was only despair. There was only ignorance and apathy. There was only debauchery and death. In all that darkness and illness, how would Percy find the light to escape? Escape to... Escape... The throb of his heart ebbed away. Escape to what? He pulled what was left of him together. My name is Perseus Jackson. My birthday is August 18th, I'm from Upper East Side Manhattan. I'm the son of Poseidon... who was Poseidon? I'm... I'm in love with Annabeth Chase. And Annabeth Chase was waiting.
His hands slid up the empousa's arms, that were constricting his neck and to the sides of her head. Percy pushed through the ache and twisted with all that was left in him. The empousa's neck gave way with a crack, and her arms snaked off of Percy. Kelli, reformed, clawed her way back onto the plateau. The lifeless ragdoll of her sister lay on the ground, the victorious and bloodthirsty son of Poseidon standing over her. "What the hell are you doing here, Perseus?" The name dripped from her lips with disgust. "Lose your way?"
He looked at her through hair drenched with sweat, his sea green eyes sparkling with mischief and malintent. "I expected Tartarus to be worse. I mean, it's lethal and... a little indecent, but not what it's made out to be. I don't get why the gods are scared to come down here."
"Oh, it'll get much worse. I imagine you were cast down here after the Titans shredded your camp to pieces?"
"Oh, no, Kelli. It was your responsibility to look after Luke, keep him on your side. So it's pretty much your fault that the Titans lost."
Kelli snarled, "What do you mean?"
Percy smirked, relishing in toying with the monster instead of the other way around. "Luke killed himself. I bathed in the Styx. I killed Titans, and defeated armies with ease. I guess you haven't heard, but soon... All the monsters of Tartarus will fear Perseus Jackson, the Titanslayer and savior of Olympus."
He had no clue what came over him. He didn't brag about his feats, they didn't matter. He was just doing what had to be done… but the look on Kelli's face was priceless. Fear was never an emotion he'd seen in a monster. She charged him, but he countered her swift speed with his own, Achilles supplemented. He grabbed her throat while she clawed wildly at his impenetrable skin. He landed two quick hits, his fist impacting like a machinated battering ram, while he spun her around, and then slammed her to the ground. The stone cracked and Percy straddled her, landing punch after punch. He grinned maliciously as blood spurted beneath his knuckles. A spout fired up, streaking his face and teeth. A thrill surged through his chest at the taste of blood not his own. The clouds in Percy's eyes drifted away, and his mind clicked. He jumped backwards and scrambled away from the bloody heap.
He tried to reconcile himself. His name is Percy Jackson, and his Wise Girl is waiting. He lost himself in the Pit, allowed himself to be lost, and this was only the beginning. He stood, his shirt shredded across his chest and back, hair stuck to his forehead and ears and sweat dripped off his nose. Blood still striped his face. Percy stepped over to the edge, winds whipping at his body. He gripped his Camp Half-Blood necklace, the familiarity of home restoring him. Inky blackness hung at the horizon, taunting Percy. He may not have Annabeth to guide him, but he knew that the light was always at the end of a dark tunnel that liked to kill things.
Percy whispered to the desert, his voice coarse, "Bring it on."
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