No one gave me copyrights for christmas, so I still don't own anything I use or reference in this chapter.
Calypso's POV
Calypso and a small group of survivors hid in the last janitor's closet with a door in one piece.
Leo turned to her, "listen, if I don't make it–"
"No!" She shouted, voice full of desperation and eyes full of tears, "no don't talk like that! You are going to make it! We all are!" She bit back a sob and looked at the round to stop them seeing her cry.
He cupped her chin pulled her face up. "If I don't make it," he rested his forehead against hers. Their short, terrified breaths mixing in the few inches between their lips. He inhaled shakily, "if I'm not back in ten minutes, I want you to take the group into the air vents and find a way out."
Hot tears ran down well-worn tracks on her cheeks. "Leo..." Her finger feathered across his cheek.
"And... If anything happens to me... Calypso..." He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I love you."
More tears blurred her vision. He smiled sadly and wiped one away with his calloused thumb, "don't cry. Save those tears for when we make it. All of us."
He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her fiercely. She wove her fingers deep in his curly hair and kissed back just as fiercely. She poured all the terror and and desperation of the last few, nightmarish hours into one passionate kiss.
They broke apart at the frenzied pounding on the door of their hiding place. One of the younger campers squeaked in fear. Was her name Lacy or Lucy?
Leo gave a hushed order for them to shut up and hide. "Who is it?" He called out cautiously.
"Nico, for gods sakes let me in! There's a hoard right behind me!"
"What's the password?"
"Bah-humbug!"
Leo opened the door slightly and let in the extremely disheveled son of Hades.
"How bad is it?" She asked him gently.
"Bad," he trembled as he reported on the take-over of the fifth and sixth floors, Chiron's capture, Mr D's disappearance, and the hoard headed for the green slopes, "and they got Khufu!" His voice broke and a single tear slid down his cheek.
Several survivor's clamped their hands over their mouths to silence gasps of horror. Leo started pacing nervously; he ran his hands through his already crazy hair.
"This is bad. This is very bad. Khufu knows where we're hiding, and he knows our plans." He muttered, partially to himself.
"Khufu will never talk! He'll never betray us!" Nico protested loudly, beginning to rise.
Calypso placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting and gently restraining him. "Nico," she began softly, "we both know they have ways of making people talk. Khufu'll try to give us as much time as possible, but we can't let his sacrifice go in vain; we need to move. Now."
He smiled bitterly, "I guess that answers my next question. Why bother saving one measly baboon when there's so many real people here?"
She tried to ignore Nico's scathing comment. He knows it's not like that, we all do. Leo's trying his best to keep as many people as possible safe. She told herself, almost believing it.
They heard rapidly approaching footsteps accompanied by the harsh clanking of jingle bells.
Leo rounded on Nico, "idiot! You led them right to us! Calypso, take everyone into the vent! I'll distract them!"
She grabbed his hand, her eyes seethed his silent fury. "I'm coming with you. Nico will take them out."
"Are you always this stubborn, sunshine?"
"That's why you love me."
"Together then?"
"Always." She steeled herself to their certain doom.
"Nico, can I count on you to get them to safety?"
Nico nodded slightly, he started helping people into the vent.
Leo threw open the door, "hey! Santa isn't real! Christmas is the worst holiday! Eggnog is disgusting!" He shouted at the approaching mob, which responded with a cry of fury.
He and Calypso ran hand-in-hand away from the insane carolers. She hadn't realized how ominous 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town' sounded until now, while being chased by deranged holidayers who were chanting it like a demonic summoning ritual.
They ran through halls that were barely recognizable due to the bows and holly and christmas color streamers.
She looked into a room as they passed and saw that it was filled with multicolor yarn, incomplete sweaters, and campers with crazed, gray eyes who were singing about... drums... she would never understand mortals and their bizarre holidays.
When they entered the kitchen, Leo pulled her into one of the cupboards and placed a silencing finger on his lip. Their pursuers ran in and paused in confusion. When Calypso saw their leader, she blinked back tears. Percy Jackson began to search the room; his eyes glazed over when he found an open cookbook on the counter.
"Cookies," he explained to his followers.
"Cookies," they agreed.
The chase forgotten, Percy split them into groups, for 'sugar cookies', 'gingerbread', 'chocolate chip', 'oatmeal raisin', et cetera.
"Did you know this would happen?" Calypso whispered to her boyfriend, who was grinning in that stupidly endearing way she both loved and hated.
"Did I know that people cursed with christmas spirit can't resist making something more festive? Maybe... But did you know there's a secret passage to the seventh floor in the potato cellar?"
"That's why we're hiding behind large bags of yams?"
"Yes, and who the heck puts spuds in their christmas cookies anyway?"
"What about latkes?"
"Wrong holiday, honey."
"It's not my fault you humans have so many similar holidays in the same month"
He gave her the 'you're so cute when you don't know the basics of life on earth' smile that made her want to either slap him or kiss him.
"You mentioned a secret passage to somewhere you forgot to tell me about?"
"Oh, yeah... that," he rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly.
Calypso found it infuriating that she couldn't hold a grudge against him when he made that face. Talk about an oxymoron!
Will's POV
The throbbing headache woke him up. He told his eyes to open, they complied with extreme reluctance. Why the Hades am I tied to chair with wrapping paper and hideous sweaters? Oh, right, the christmas cheerers caught me...
On the other end of the room, he could see Travis Stoll tied to a chair in much the same way he was. Someone who looked exactly like Annabeth, minus the reindeer themed sweater, and smiled cheerily at Travis, a snowman mug in hand.
"Travis," she sounded exactly like Annabeth too, only with a jolly disposition that would've made Saint Nick look depressed in comparison. "I made you some snowman soup! Drink up! You'll feel so much better!" Each word was accentuated with vigorous head bobbing.
Travis twisted in his binds to get a better look at the mug, "that's hot chocolate." He explained in a dead serious tone.
"Snowman Soup!" Not-Annabeth replied forcefully.
"What's the difference?"
"This is Snowman Soup, but hot chocolate is not."
"Oh," his voice was heavy with sarcasm, "now that you put it that way, it makes perfect sense."
"I know!" She shouted happily, grinning wider than the Grinch.
"Why should I drink this–"
"Snowman Soup!"
"Why should I drink this Snowman Soup?"
As she was busy explaining just how his drinking it would make christmas all the more perfect, not-Annabeth didn't notice Travis squirm desperately in his bindings, trying to get free before she finished monologuing.
"Do you understand now?" She finally said.
"Uh, no, could you run though it one more time?"
"Silly me!" She shouted, slapping herself on the forehead, "if you just drink the Snowman Soup, everything'll make sense! And christmas will be perfect again!"
"What if I don't want to drink the Snowman Soup?"
In a heartbeat, her tone switched from overly-cheery to menacing. "Vee haff vays of making you drink, Mister Stoll."
"I'm not going to justify that line with a response."
"I'm sorry it had to come to this. Bring in the radio!" Annabeth shouted the second part to the door behind her.
Clarisse La Rue ran in carrying a large radio covered bows and ribbons.
"Hi, Will! Hi, Annabeth! Hi, Travis!" She shouted, practically jumping up and down in excitement. "Isn't it beautiful today! The snow is wonderful! It's all sparkly and everything! I love sparkles! I love everything! I love christmas! Isn't christmas wonderful? It makes everything sparkly!" She cackled merrily ((A/N: if you don't know what a merry cackle sounds like, try it; it's extremely disturbing)), pulled large amounts of christmas-colored glitter from her pockets, and threw it in the air before skipping from the room singing an extremely off-key 'Joy to the World'.
When Clarisse's 'singing', which would be better categorized as 'screeching like a banshee in scalding water', could no longer be heard, Annabeth turned to Travis, "this is your last chance, Snowman Soup or a torture too cruel for the Fields of Punishment?"
Travis scoffed, "you'll never make me drink your..." dramatic pause, "hot chocolate!"
Annabeth gasped, a melodramatic hand over her gaping mouth , "how dare you tarnish the name of Snowman Soup! You'll pay for that, Stoll!" She pressed the On button of the radio with a vindictive flourish.
It truly was a fate worse than death: Justin Bieber singing about mistletoe.
Travis screamed in anguish, while Annabeth plugged her ears. Will wished for one of those convenient bricks that always knock Jason out; anything but this torment.
"Please! Make it stop! I'll do anything! Just make it stop!" Travis sobbed.
Annabeth turned it off with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. She offered Travis the mug, which he then reluctantly drank from.
His head slumped forward almost instantly. Later, Will could've sworn he heard the son of Hermes muttering about magical fruitcake while was unconscious.
Minutes passed before Travis suddenly jerked forward. "Perfect! Must make it perfect! More eggnog! More carols! More tinsel! More cookies! More christmas specials! Perfection! It must be absolute perfection!" He screamed, straining against his bindings with a renewed fervor.
Annabeth's eyes widened in glee, "exactly," she murmured as she cut him loose.
There was a knock on the door, "is this a good time?" Asked a voice Will recognized as Katie Gardner.
"Sure, come in." Annabeth responded while Travis paced back and forth reciting various eggnog recipes.
The door opened, and kids dressed as elves with terrible fashion sense dragged in a limp body. Even though he was bound hand-and0foot by 'Merry Christmas' banners, Will immediately recognized the gloomy, punk-style clothes and far too attractive black hair.
Gods of Olympus... Nico...
Yay! This update is as close to on-time as I'll probably ever get! What's that you say? It's six days late? Just be glad I finished this chapter before 2015!
Didn't proofread as much as I should have... If you see any typos and stuff please tell me!
And yeah, this chapter is dedicated to those people who get so obsessed with making christmas perfect, they end up ruining it by making everyone around them miserable. It's also dedicated to Bruce Willis: yippee ki-yay, monkey fighters!
I don't know when this story mutated into a strange mix of Die Hard and Love Actually, but it's a thing that happened at some point... so I'm just run go with it!
How was you guys' christmases by the way? I got to sleep in, have cake, and I got a sword, so mine was pretty good!
There's probably only gonna be one or two more chapters left...but who knows? I might keep going if someone gives me a really good idea!
Hint
Hint
One review = one bag of Snowman Soup! ...or the antidote...that's good too...
—XOXO your friendly neighborhood kumquat