CHAPTER ELEVEN: It was by some dude called Stan Lee?

"Sorry, kid," the man said, "There is no 600th floor here. Don't they teach you that at school?"

"Um …" Percy didn't know how to answer that one.

It had been a week since his sentence of a Harry Potter reading marathon had been delivered, and it was time for Percy to report to Olympus. Which was all well and good with Percy – he was almost done with the fifth book already – only the bald guy who was normally at the lobby was nowhere to be seen. And now this other guard, a much older man, was staring at him, as if concerned about the poor education received by deprived members of the Generation Y.

"How old are you?" the guard asked, "Fifteen? Sixteen? You oughta know that by now, kid. Why, back in my day, in my elementary school in outer NYC, we were told right at the start that the Empire State Building has 102 storeys, and that's it. What do they teach at schools these days?"

"I need to get to Olympus," Percy said urgently, "I have an appointment with Zeus."

Now the man looked less concerned about Percy's education than he was about his mental health. "Zeus?" he asked, "Olympus? What are you talking about? Kids these days, rambling on with their acronyms and jargon and whatnots."

As the guard kept grumbling, Percy began to panic. What if the guard was a mortal? What if he couldn't see through the mist? Where was the other guy, the one who always read books? What if Percy could never get to Olympus? Percy flinched at the thought of what Zeus would do to him.

Percy apologised to the guard and took a seat at one of the chairs around the lobby. If Zeus was going to incinerate him, he might as well be sitting down. Percy leaned back in the comfortable chair, and placed his arms on the rests. It was made of soft leather, and Percy felt like he could lie in the seat forever. It seemed perfectly suited to the arch of his back, and it accommodated any position his rump was in. What Percy would do to have a chair like this of his own.

Percy leaned back and reached into his satchel, bringing out a thick book. Perhaps if Zeus caught him reading, he wouldn't be so angry. Percy flipped the pages till he found the blue Post-it note he had stuck in as a makeshift bookmark. Dumbledore's Army were just about to break into the Ministry of Magic. Percy blinked. That was it! In the book, Umbridge had taken all but Dumbledore's office from him. Was Percy not in the same situation right now? The bald security guard had been replaced by a new one, who was taking away Percy's rights to Olympus. And what did Harry do when his rights were taken away from him?

Percy nearly jumped out of his seat. He needed an army. An army in the name of the old security guard, who used to read good books and let demigods into Olympus. The brave, bold, bald soldier who had run away from his post when he was supposed to guard Olympus during the war.

Percy stuffed the book back into the satchel, headed out of the building and caught the first cab that came to him. He even offered to pay extra when the driver refused to drive all the way to Long Island. It felt like ages before he reached the camp, and running to the Big House felt like a marathon. (Although the only reason for that was that Percy ran really slow. It wasn't actually that far a distance.)

"Back already?" Chiron was waiting up the front. "And you're alive?"

Percy stopped and put his hands on his knees, gasping for air. "I never went," he puffed.

Chiron's wheelchair fell to the ground in a clatter, and in his centaur form he towered over Percy. "What?!"

"I didn't go," Percy repeated, "They didn't let me."

"They didn't let you?"

"That guy. The bald security guard. He's gone!"

"Couldn't you have asked someone else?"

"He didn't let me!"

"Oh dear."

"I want him back. The old bald guy. I can't stand for this anymore."

Chiron scratched his beard. "Are you being a little melodramatic?"

Percy brooded as he pace the front porch. "The man was our connection to the gods, to Olympus. He was our Bïfrost!"

"Percy I think you're being – wait, how do you know about Bïfrost?"

Percy stopped. "Uh, I think I read it in a comic book."

"Comic book?"

"It was called Thor. It was by some dude called Stan Lee?"

Chiron sighed with relief. "Carry on."

"So we have to bring him back. At all costs! Because without him, we are hopeless! We are vulnerable! We are decrepit! We are f–"

"Percy!"

"–Forlorn?"

"Good." Chiron rubbed the side of his nose. "I suppose you do have a point. We can't get to Olympus without him."

"So that settles it!" Percy rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I'll start recruiting for the Bald Guy's army."

"Yes, well – army?"

"It shall be glorious. We will prevail!"

"Percy, what have you been reading?!"

Percy gave Chiron a weird look. "Uh," he said, "Harry Potter?"

"Ah. Ah yes, of course." Chiron was still puzzled as to how Percy's vocabulary had increased so greatly after only four books, but he let it pass. "Carry on."

Percy had reached the courtyard before Chiron realised what he said. He went to Cabin Six, eager to tell Annabeth what he had planned, and he stopped. Annabeth wasn't talking to him anymore. And because she had ended their relationship, he couldn't even go up and talk to her. It would be too awkward.

"Percy?"

"MERLIN'S BALLS!" Percy yelped, and he leaped four feet away from where he stood. He was so busy staring up at the Athena cabin and thinking about Annabeth that he didn't realise that Nyssa had walked up to him. Nyssa's expression morphed quickly from concerned to scared witless.

"P-Percy?"

Percy blinked and shook his head. "Sorry. What is it?"

"Um," Nyssa hesitated, "I w-was just wondering i-if you were okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Percy ran his hands through his hair, "I'm good."

"Great." Nyssa tried to give Percy a nice, bright smile, but to Percy, she looked more like she had gas. "I'll j-just be on m-m-my way, then–"

"Actually . . ."

If Percy was going to start recruiting for the Bald Guy's army, he had to start now. That meant enlisting every person he passed by. He didn't notice Nyssa curse under her breath as she turned to face him. It was time to act.

Percy put an arm around Nyssa and gave her a cheesy smile. "How would you like to be a part of a revolutionary new era?"

"Someone shut the door," Percy said.

There were six people in their army: Percy, Nyssa, Grover, the Stoll brothers and a petite little girl of about thirteen from the Apollo cabin, named Kayla. It wasn't quite the crew Percy had in mind when he started this thing (and to be quite honest, Percy wasn't really sure what he did have in mind when he started this thing), but they were better than nothing. They stood in a long, dark, empty corridor with many doors lining the sides.

"So . . ." Grover whistled, "What now, Percy?"

"I have no idea," Percy shrugged.

"What?!"

"What? Okay, maybe I didn't quite think this through."

"Maybe?!"

"Look, bubs." Kayla stepped between them, taking two arrows out of her quiver and placing them, head end, on each of their chests. Her voice was so high she could've passed for a ten year old, except that it was so breathy that she seemed much more sinister. "I didn't sign up to hear you fellows bicker, so let's blow this freak show, alright?"

"A-alright," Grover whimpered.

Kayla remained silent for a moment, before breathing "good". She placed the arrows back in her quiver and sleeked away, swivelling around to meet Percy's eye. "We're all yours, bub."

Percy blushed furiously. Did he just get shown up by a thirteen year old girl? And an Apollo kid, of all people. He could hear the sun god laughing at him from above.

"Right," Percy blinked, as he rummaged through his satchel and pulled out his book. "Well, in this part of the book, Dumbledore's army just look at every door and –"

"Waited till they could find the right one," Nyssa nodded, "Yeah, but how do we know if we've found the right one?"

"Um . . . I don't know, I guess we'll just know, right?"

"Well," Travis shrugged, "You can't argue with logic like that."

The group murmured their agreement, and went up to the door closest to them. Nyssa turned the knob and pushed, the gang getting their various weapons ready. (Percy clutched Riptide, the Stoll brothers were armed with Greek fire, Kayla readied her bow and Grover had his panpipes and a stale enchilada.) But the door opened easily, and no threat faced them. Instead, they were met with an odd sight.

"Are those . . .?" Percy began.

"Floating brains," Nyssa scowled, "Ew."

"Awesome!" Connor said.

"Yeah, bro!" Travis agreed, exchanging a high-five with his brother.

"Bubs," Kayla sighed, "Ya'll are some sad, sad human beings."

"Let's get out of here," Grover nudged Percy, "This is really creepy."

Out they went, back to the corridor. Percy couldn't get the image of the brains out of his head, and he almost felt like puking.

"Next door," he managed to say, and walked down to the next room and pushed it open, his sword at the ready.

This one was much darker, so much that they could barely see.

"Anyone got a light?" Percy whispered; but just as he had opened his mouth, a flame flickered into existence. It was Kayla, holding a cigarette lighter.

"Um," Percy blinked, "Okay." He looked around the room. "I don't see anything."

"But I can smell it," Grover quivered. He had found a piece of wood and had begun chewing on it.

"What can you smell?" Percy asked. But just then, he felt a shadow looming up behind him.

"BRAAAAAAAAIIIIIINNNNSSSS!"

"Z-Z-Zombie!" Grover yelped.

Percy rolled to the floor and slashed the air with Riptide. He watched the flame from the lighter dwindle and vanish. Something small and bright passed by his ear. He looked towards it and found an arrow lit with Greek fire, burning the carpet. The sound of panpipes filled the air; Grover must have lost his enchilada.

"BRAAAAIINNSS TO EEAAATTT!" The moan came from directly behind Percy. He swung around and stabbed at the corpse. Percy leaped onto the zombie's head as it fell to the ground, sticking his sword up the monster's nose.

"Zombies . . . are not . . . what demigods . . . are supposed to . . . deal with!" he yelled between each thrust.

"I GOT DYNAMITE!" Percy heard Travis (or Connor) scream.

Wait . . . dynamite?

Percy leaped off the zombie. "Guys," he could hear Nyssa say, "That is not a good id–"

BOOM!

The force of the explosion threw their troop back into the corridor, blowing debris and zombie guts into the air.

"I did not sign up for this," Nyssa muttered.

"Well," Grover said, brushing himself off, "At least we only have one door left."

And so they did; the last door of the corridor remained intact, glowing with an odd, flickering light.

"Why didn't we just open that door before?" Connor asked, "I mean, it's all glowy and weird. That had to be the one."

Percy chose to ignore Connor's rational argument and crept step by step towards the light. He put his ear against the wood and knocked gently. But he could hear nothing inside.

"Shh," Percy hushed, putting his finger to his lips, and ever so slowly, he turned the knob. Then he turned it a second time. About ten more turns, more forceful, came in quick succession, but the door would not budge.

"It's locked," Percy scratched his head.

"I can see that, bub," Kayla said, pulling out a peculiar arrow with a box-shaped device on the end instead of an arrowhead. She jammed it into the wood. "We should run."

No sooner had they reached the other end of the aisle did the arrow explode, throwing more door debris all around them.

"Or we could've done that," Percy mumbled.

The room was a small security booth, set up with televisions showing live footage from every area of the Empire State. A figure sat on a high-backed chair in front, his features unclear in the shadows. He was petting some sort of furry creature which was sitting on the arm of his seat.

"I've been expecting you," a voice boomed. The figure stopped petting the creature and snapped his fingers. A tube light flickered on, temporarily blinding the demigods. Eventually, Percy opened his eyes to find the bald security guard he was looking for, ruffling the fur of a fluffy white cat.

"I have always wanted to say that," the guard said, getting up. "Pretty cool, huh? Guess you passed the test, kid."

"Test?" Percy asked, and looked around. "Wait, what kid?"

"You, kid," the guard nodded at Percy. "Ah, Zeus asked me to set up this whole test for you to make sure you're reading the books properly. He expects you to be reading Order of the Phoenix now. That's what you're at?"

Percy nodded. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Well, kid, it's all good. Don't you worry your head too much about it. All's well that ends well, right?"

Once again, Percy could only nod dumbly.

"Pretty cool set up, though, right? Took me ages to get those brains to float. And since you blew up the place, I gotta give those zombies a pay raise." He sighed. "There goes my book-store money. Anyway, guys, this is my cat, Benedict Cumberbatch. Isn't he a superstar? Yes you are!" He nuzzled the uninterested feline. "Yes, you are a superstar, aren't you? You know you – naaawwwwwwwwwwwwww ughuuuu poochie woochie . . ."

Nyssa coughed.

The bald security guard jumped. "Ah, yes, sorry you had to see that. Say, kid," he nodded towards Percy, "Once you're done with that series, you reckon you could read a bit more?"

"As in . . . other books? Yeah, sure."

"Awesome, 'cause I got a whole list prepared just for you." He rummaged through his pocket and handed Percy a folded piece of paper. "I had anticipated you might want this."

Percy accepted the piece of paper. He thanked the security guard and hurried his friends out of the room.

"So . . ." Grover said, "That whole army thing was a complete waste of time, then?"

"Pretty much," Percy agreed.

Thunder boomed.

"Okay, okay! Not a waste of time."