Phew! I've received everything from death threats to super nice requests to update this, and now it's finally here! I apologize for the delay, everyone. We're moving again. ): Anyway, enjoy! I have the theme song picked out and everything, and a new fic in the making. Watch out for it as soon as I finish this one: it's gonna be called "More Than Heroes" and it will-- HOPEFULLY-- be just as funny. Haha.

xoxo Rhia

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Knowing Nico, he probably went inside," Annabeth groaned as we got out of the cab. I paid and thanked the driver, genuinely grateful that he didn't try to maul/murder/mummify or kidnap us. After, I took in our surroundings. Navigating LA wasn't anywhere near easier the second time. I could sense we were on the right track, though, because the place we and Nico had agreed to meet at just gives off this kind of aura; it's amazing.

"Aw, come on, Annabeth, he probably didn't--" Grover began, but stopped short, seeming to have second thoughts about Annabeth's statement. "Never mind. You're probably right."

"Well, wouldn't you go in if you were left right at its front door?" I asked, leading the way to the rendezvous point. Something in my tummy did an uneasy flip, but I just dismissed it as the readers' feelings rubbing off on me. I know you all can tell that I'm purposely prolonging the mystery of where we're going.

Annabeth scowled. "Yeah, but that's not the point. We're never gonna find him! I mean, Disney World sprawls mi--"

"Oh, great job, Annabeth!"

"Annabeth, you just told them!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Annabeth squeaked. She really did look sorry that she spoiled where we were going, leading to a kind of anticlimactic mystery subplot. Or, you know, whatever. Sorry, guys.

From then, we continued on in silence, save for Annabeth's quiet, sorry sobbing. For the next fifty meters, I debated whether or not to comfort her, not really for her sake, but for mine. Her incessant crying was creeping me out a little.

"Don't cry, sweetie, it wasn't that big of a slip; they would have found out anyway!" Grover said finally, the same time Annabeth said, "Percy, stop crying, you little wimp; they would've found out anyway!"

The three of us turned to each other then, confused. Who in Olympus' name was crying like that? I put my finger to my lips, signaling ninja mode. Annabeth and Grover obliged, and together we crept forward like the elite species of human that we were imitating. Little by little, the crying began to grow louder; first they were sobs.... then I could say they were weeping.... and suddenly we had come to a stop right in front of the alley way where a guy in an East High Wildcats basketball uniform was sitting on the pavement, wailing like a fiend.

Sitting next to him, rubbing his back while he cried, was none other than Nico. I felt sorry for the kid; he looked like he was at such a loss of what to do for the crying man that he might explode. The three of us rushed into the alley to join him and comfort the poor, unfortunate soul.

That was when we realized that the aforementioned poor, unfortunate soul was Corbin Bleu.

"Oh, MAH LORD!" cried Grover, screeching to a halt smack dab in the middle of the area. Annabeth and I tumbled into him, ending up as a crumpled heap of half-blood and satyr in the dirt.

"Hey, guys," said Nico pretty soberly. "I found him."

"But what... How..." Annabeth stammered. "What's wrong with him?"

Corbin raised his head a minute to turn to Annabeth and scream, "I'm right HERE, you know!"

"Oh, no, it's okay, man," Nico hushed, patting the Wildcat's shaking shoulders with renewed gusto. As Corbin reburied his head in his hands to continue bawling, Nico gave Annabeth a fierce look that pretty much said, Where were you when they were giving out tact, woman?

Ashamed, Annabeth sat down beside Corbin and rubbed his back too, cooing soft words born of the maternal instinct somewhere deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep

(700 "DEEPS" LATER)

Deep down insider of her. Grover and I positioned ourselves awkwardly around him as well, resisting the uber incredible strong urge to just get the freaking hell out of there. When he'd calmed down a little, Nico asked him if he could explain to us what had happened to him.

"Well, my album tanked," Corbin began, still sniffling and hiccuping like crazy. Feeling at least a little sorry for him, I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Uh, thanks," he said, but looked at it strangely. Geez, I'm sorry if it's weird to take home the unused tissues from KFC when you're done.

He continued talking. "So yeah, it tanked. I lost some money. A little while after, I became one of the least liked characters in High School Musical, which really stung because I'm also told that people use Jump In! Movie posters as toilet paper sometimes. I mean, table napkins would've been okay, but toilet paper? Really?"

A sob escaped from him. Just listening to this poor guy made my heart break; some people are just born losers. Right then and there, I thanked that gods that I was at least the kid who might destroy Olympus and all humanity, and not Corbin Bleu. I was still thanking them when I realized that Corbin had started talking again.

"... came here to look for work. They gave me a job in their little HSM parade thingie. It's not half bad, but I lost everything. I mean, just three days ago it was that some guys came to my house and told me to move out because I wasn't classy enough for New York. It blew."

"No kidding," said Grover under his breath. Annabeth elbowed him hard in the ribs, and he fell over backwards in pain. Corbin watched him forlornly as he moaned.

"Um, Corbin," I chanced. His head turned to me, eyes still puffy and watery. "You have something that kind of belongs to us--"

"The record. I know." Sighing, he shook his head. "I was just telling Nico that I left it my apartment in New York. Someone else owns it now."

I'm sorry, did you just say, NEW YORK? "I'm sorry, did you just say New York?"

Corbin wiped his nose, blissfully oblivious to the astonished looks on all our faces. "Yeah, why?"

It was then that the drops of epic, disproportionately huge failure rained down upon us all.

Meanwhile, in the Underworld

"Nakamura, you FOOL!"

Ethan looked up from his Facebook page, unperturbed. "I told you that I don't have my license yet, Luke."

Luke turned on him, looking a little like Norman Osborn right after they gassed him with the Green Globulin formula. His features were contorted into a fierce snarl that probably could have caused his face muscles to either tear or atrophy. In aggravation, he picked up the DiPSTIC and would have hurled it across the room had Ethan not ran, jumped and caught it as it spiraled through the air.

After executing a small bow, Ethan replaced the DiPSTIC on the glass coffee table where it once rested. Smoke was practically shooting out of Luke's ears by now. He'd sort of been that way ever since a real police man had broken up his fight with the Jonas Brothers.

"No. You. Didn't," he growled, taking menacing steps toward Ethan. Still indifferent, Ethan yawned and pulled something out of his pocket.

Luke stopped cold and took the folded up piece of paper from him. "What the Hades is this?"

"The waiver I made you sign."

"The... what?" Then it finally dawned on him. "YOU FIEND!"

FLASHBACK! (Luke's POV)

I shrugged my coat on, checking my reflection in the mirror by the door. Perfectly coiffed hair, extremely white smile, stylishly unshaven-- man, I looked so good that I bet even walking dreamboats like Robert Downey, Jr. would come to me for advice.

Not that I think RDJ is a dreamboat, I mean. The empousae just think so. What, you think I'm gay now? You don't believe me? You think I'm lying? Well, if that's the case, I'mma show you motherfu--

"Luke, where are you going?"

Oh, Nakamura. Psh, sometimes I forget that guy is here. He's kind of... sneaky, you know what I mean? I looked over to find him still seated at the computer, just like he had been all day for the past three days. He claims he's checking the Demigodly iPad Supersonic Tracker Intelligence Console, which I so aptly named, but I'm pretty sure that the tracking device could be accessed from the iPad itself.

And, you know, I'm pretty damn sure that the software didn't look exactly like someone's Facebook homepage.

I reined all my hatred and myriad of other emotions in. Managing a sort of cool half-smirk-half-snarl, I said, "Weekly poker jaunt."

It was true, of course-- I may have renounced the gods and stuff, but I still get a kick out of taking other peoples' money, like a real son of Hermes. Rumor had it that Gambit would be there that night, and I just freakin' loved a challenge.
Nakamura was standing in front of me now, waving his hand in front of my face. I growled at him and he stopped.

"We're you doing an inner monologue again?" he asked me, instantly pissing me off. I hate it when he's right. Can you believe how this asshat manages to present the dumbest theories and conclusions and ends up to be always right?

"Luuuuuuukkeeeeee." He was in my face again, trying to get my attention. This time, he was waving a piece of paper at me.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, okay," he said, satisfied that he got my attention. He handed me a pen. "First of all, only nutcases like Rorschach do inner monologues. Second--"

I slapped him on the upside of the head. "Hey-- do not insult Rorschach like that man. The guy's a freaking genius."

Narrowing his eyes at me, he said, "Dude. He was on the same superhero team as Dr. Manhattan, who walked around totally starkers the whole time. Can you spell 'fail'?"

"Um... F..A... Wait, Tony Stark was in the Watchmen?"

For some reason I did not understand, Nakamura just hung his head. Sighing, he handed me his little piece of paper. "I just wanted your autograph, Luke."

And like the fool I was, I gave it to him.

Present time

"You fiend, you fiend, you fiend, you--!"

Ethan was on his knees now, eyes locked on the DiPSTIC's screen. He was waving his arms around in a desperate attempt to get Luke to shut up. Seeing that this wasn't working, he finally stopped tracking the little red dots' movements for a second to yell, "Luke, Blair DIED!"

Luke fell silent instantly and rushed to the coffee table. His eyes scanned the DiPSTIC before narrowing when he realized that they were following demigods, and not the latest season of Gossip Girl. Silly Nakamura, he thought while trying to make sense of the map, They wouldn't kill Blair. Well, maybe, considering what they did to Chuck...

"Do you see that, man?" asked Ethan, running up some coordinates in a smaller window next to the map. "It looks like they're headed right back to Manhattan, right now."

Nodding, Luke got up. "Assemble our people, Nakamura. If we're fast, we'll be able to intercept them on their way back to Camp Half Blood."

Thus, Ethan got up and left, resisting the urge to remind the other that he didn't have any other people.