Halt strode into the Empire State Building's lobby with an expression that made the crowds of tourists inside step backwards. Whispers in every language from French to Arabic whistled through the air as he passed. He ignored them entirely. He shoved past a child too young to understand she needed to move, letting her resulting wails go unheeded. He had eyes for only one person: the maroon-uniformed, white-faced receptionist.

He didn't need to hold out a hand. He didn't even need to speak a word. The receptionist placed the key to the 600th floor on the desk with trembling fingers and averted eyes. Halt took it in one movement without breaking stride and stepped straight into one of the waiting elevators.

As the doors shut and the elevator began its ascent, Halt closed his eyes. The chill in his demeanor softened in pain.

It had been twenty-six days since he'd last seen Will. Twenty-six days of hunting down every stray band of monsters Apollo had sent him after. He'd killed Temujai by the dozen; empousai by the half-dozen; and even a dragon when the situation called for it. There had been some days he'd shadow-traveled back to Olympus with his cloak covered so thickly in dust he could no longer make out its mottling. On those days, like every other, he would go to Crowley and ask.

It was always the same question.

It was always the same answer.

After the first mission he had gone with expectation, even anticipation. It was an expectation that dimmed every time. Eleven missions later, it had dimmed to nonexistence. Now there was nothing left except the chill inside him that had so terrified the mortals he'd just walked past.

Halt had never been the type to rage. If you had asked him, he would've said it was not the Ranger way. So he didn't rage. But that didn't mean he didn't get angry; no, it just meant he was silent when he did.

Every time he went to Crowley, the Ranger Commandant told him the same thing. "Just a few more days," he'd say. "Just until we've cleared up New York, then you can leave." But weeks had replaced days. Halt would not let months replace that. Will would be long dead by then. Could even be dead now.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out. His eyes wandered over the imposing gate to Olympus, then to the mortals hundreds of feet below. He allowed himself a moment's hesitation - one last chance to decide if this were truly the course of action he would take.

Familiar regret mixed with the anger inside him, dampening it. What he had come to do would not be pleasant for anyone, least of all himself. It would destroy him, his honor, his life.

Yet if he turned back now, he would be rejecting the very thing that made him human. The lifeline that had kept him from disintegrating into the Styx when he had taken on Achilles' Curse. His heart.

Halt set his gaze forward and began to walk.

Olympus was warm and balmy, as on every other day. Minor gods and goddesses mingled in the open-air marketplaces and gardens, buying wares and chatting. Few of them spared a glance to Halt. The few who did turned away, their voices instantly hushing.

No one attempted to bar his entrance to the Hall of Olympus, but Halt paused anyway. This time, as he looked up at the lightning flickering across the celestial bronze, it was not out of hesitation. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. The next moment, he walked inside.

Celestial bronze braziers lit up the grand hallway, the Greek fire inside them casting shadows that made Halt look as tall as a god. He considered them for a moment with a sense of irony. He was less than a third the size of a god, yet in the brazier's shadow he seemed their equal. He shook his head and strode towards the throne room door.

"I'm afraid I'll have to stop you there."

Halt went motionless. "Crowley."

His tone was dead quiet, flat, and entirely without emotion. Yet as he turned around, he still saw pain in his friend's eyes.

"I know what you're about to do. I'm here to stop you."

"For my sake, or Apollo's?"

The words hung for a moment suspended in the air. The bitterness in Halt's tone made them all the uglier.

Crowley looked at him sadly. "Halt, why are you doing this? You've never been one to put your wants before your oath to Apollo."

A shadow flickered over Halt's face. "People change."

"Never you. Never this much." Crowley shook his head slowly, lips tight. "Is that boy worth your life?"

Halt didn't reply.

Crowley sighed. He had nothing against Will, was even rather fond of him, but they were fighting a war. There was no time to hunt for a single Ranger's apprentice. He had tried a half-dozen times to convince Halt of it and had failed. Yet, he found himself opening his mouth to give it one last try.

"They aren't even going to kill him! If they'd wanted him dead, they wouldn't have captured him."

"They didn't want him dead at the time," Halt retorted. "I imagine once they've gotten what they want from him, they'll see no point in keeping him alive."

"You don't know that," Crowley said, volume rising, "and even if you did it's not your problem."

"It's not my problem?"

Crowley felt the temperature drop and gritted his teeth. "For the gods' sakes, he's a Ranger, Halt!"

"An apprentice," Halt corrected, "and my responsibility."

"A Ranger. He bears the laurel wreath just as we do. He took the oath just as we did. And it's not like he's out there alone! There's a whole quest's worth of Half-Blood demigods tracking him down."

"No," Halt said steadily, ignoring the last part, "he didn't take it. You don't take the Stygian oath until you're a full-fledged Ranger."

There was a few seconds' silence. Crowley closed his eyes. He had come there hoping he would be able to stop Halt, but now he realized he was already too late. There was now nothing left to do but watch his closest friend suffer.

"Your mind is made, then."

Halt didn't respond.

In the same quiet tone he'd used before, Crowley continued. "I'm not strong enough to stop you. When it comes down to it, you've always been the better fighter. But please, Halt, think about what you're about to do."

Halt matched his tone. "I already have."

"Have you?" Crowley looked at him pleadingly. "No matter how much others might think it, you aren't a god. You can't survive this."

Halt turned away. "Will can't survive the Temujai."

He opened the door to the throne room and stepped inside. Crowley only stood and watched him go. Pain lanced through his heart as the door shut with an echoing bang.

Inside the throne room, Halt met the gazes of all five gods currently in there: Zeus, Ares, Aphrodite, Hestia, and Apollo. Not a terrible mix of gods; not a great one, either.

Zeus respected him after his actions won them the Second Titan War, but nothing could change the fact that he was born to Zeus's rival by breaking the Big Three Pact. Ares also respected him since Halt had nearly beaten him in a duel. Of course, that respect came with a hearty dose of dislike, as Ares was proud and none too happy about nearly being beaten by a mortal.

Aphrodite was generally apathetic to his existence. When he had first met her, she'd given him a single appraising glance and turned away with a bored expression. She'd complained about his "boringly requited love interest" and how it was "so dull I'm falling asleep." Ever since then she'd ignored him.

The one positive relationship he had in this room was with Hestia. She felt a special kinship with demigods who were lost and forgotten. Sons of Hades were often both, and Halt had been no exception - especially when his very existence was a crime. She had aided him many times throughout his life; he returned the favor by tending to her hearth-fires whenever he could.

His gaze locked with hers. She was in her preferred form, her deceptively childlike frame barely coming up to his shoulder. He would never understand how she could be so comfortable in a room where those around her were five times her height.

She gave him a long, sad look. I am sorry for what you will suffer, he heard her say inside his mind. If it were in my power, I would take this from you. But some things are beyond even the gods.

He just nodded. There was no need for an apology. He had decided to do this of his own free will. He would take the consequences without flinching.

He walked forward to Apollo's throne and bowed.

"Halt O'Carrick," Zeus said from Halt's right. "Give us a reason not to smite you where you stand for coming here uninvited."

Halt ignored him. Zeus was last on the list of gods he needed to worry about. Far higher up was the god at whose feet he stood now.

"My lord," he started, then paused. Apollo was the only god he had ever called his lord. It occurred to him that, given what he was about to do, the title was no longer fitting. "Lord Apollo, I have come to ask of you a boon."

Apollo's presence seemed dimmer than usual; the ever-present glow about him had faded almost entirely. He was perched on his golden throne like a bird about to take flight, his expression eerily grave. As the god of prophecy, he no doubt had an idea of what was about to happen.

"What would you ask of me, Halt?"

A muscle twitched in Halt's jaw at the single name, no title or surname attached. He had been a loyal servant to Apollo for decades. They had been close enough to be on familiar terms such as those. But for today, Halt wanted no reminder of that.

Halt straightened from his bow and took stock of the situation. Zeus still looked angry. Ares looked mildly interested, Aphrodite as bored as she always did around Halt, and Hestia had turned away.

"I believe you know already," he said quietly. "I want to find my apprentice. Your son."

Apollo seemed almost to blanch at the last sentence. His feelings towards Will had always been a mystery to Halt. He had chosen to give Will unprecedented powers and accepted him into his Corps. But, from what Halt had gathered from Will, the god had also abandoned the child to a life that was less than ideal.

It wasn't uncommon for the gods to leave their children behind. Zeus, Athena, and Aphrodite especially were known to care little for the sufferings of their offspring. But Apollo was one of the few - along with Hermes, Hades, and Dionysus - who genuinely seemed to care. He would occasionally drop by to make sure his kids were okay, getting them out of harmful situations if necessary. He had never failed to claim a child before age twelve.

Until Will. Will had not been claimed until he was fifteen. And from what Halt had managed to learn via careful questioning, he had been alone when Ferris had found him. What that was supposed to mean, Halt didn't know. But he didn't like what it implied.

"Halt, I've already given my orders," Apollo said. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood; if I were not, I could punish you for insubordination for daring to even ask such a thing. And that's already overlooking your trespass into the gods' throne room. You have no god's permission to be in here, and it seems you have no reason, either. Leave, before our tempers grow unpleasant."

He flicked his hand. The same warm energy Halt had often felt from Will now flooded the air. But whereas Will's had never felt dangerous or unpleasant, Apollo's was stifling and gave off a distinct hint of warning.

Halt did not move. "Lord Apollo, you are a compassionate god. You have always protected your children; why is Will different? Yes, he has...made mistakes. But he doesn't deserve to suffer for them. Especially when he has labored month after month to fix them."

He swallowed down the bitter taste of irony which his words had given him. Just a few months ago he would've rejected those words himself. Now he no longer had it in him. The slow-burning grudge he had held tightly for so long had burned into nothing. Now there was only fear - fear that Will would die before Halt found him.

"There are eighty-nine other Rangers who can do what I have been doing. There are none who have my responsibility over Will or even the skills to find him as quickly as I can. Lord Apollo, I beg that you allow me to do this."

It was not often that Halt begged, and all of them knew it. Yet as Halt looked at Apollo, he knew his words had failed to get through. And although he had expected that from the beginning, a deep feeling of regret lodged itself into his stomach. Now he truly had but one more option.

"You test my patience." Apollo was growing angrier. "Will is a concern neither of yours nor mine. Leave, Halt."

Halt lifted his chin. "I refuse."

The gods all gaped as one. Aphrodite shifted to the edge of her throne, all traces of boredom gone; Ares looked as though he couldn't decide if he wanted to pummel him or congratulate him. Zeus was glaring at him. Hestia was nowhere to be seen.

A flicker of pain flickered across Apollo's face. Then anger replaced it.

"You come here, uninvited, to the gods' sacred hall, a crime of itself. I would've been willing to forgive that! I could've even forgiven your plea, being that it comes of human weakness and it's merciful to acknowledge you mortals' weaknesses. But there is no forgiveness for such clear disobedience."

Apollo stood, towering over Halt. "Because I am merciful, I'll give you one last chance. Leave and never ask for that again."

Halt took a breath. "And if I refuse?"

Apollo sighed. The anger on his expression dimmed. There was a great depth of understanding in his eyes that made Halt realize he already knew what was going to happen. And behind that, an even greater depth of sorrow.

It was a great pain indeed that caused a god to pity.

"Then you can regard your oath to me as broken."

xXx

xXx

xXx

"What will it be? Submit, or die?"

A whirlwind of thoughts swept through Will's head. As he stared at the Tem'uj standing before him, his thoughts whirred so swiftly that his surroundings seem to shift out of focus. His vision and thoughts narrowed to two things: the Tem'uj and the ultimatum he had given.

Submit or die.

Will had never considered that he would die. He was a prisoner, after all - if they'd wanted him dead, they wouldn't have taken him captive. But if the Tem'uj was to be believed, his lord was running out of patience. And Gaia wanted him dead more than he wanted Will alive.

Was the Tem'uj to be believed? Will scanned the figure but found nothing. There was no way to find the truth in his insanity. He could be lying, he could be not; there was simply no way to tell. But if Will were gambling with his life...

"Well? The Earth Mother grows impatient, No-Name. Her power is growing. If you don't make up your mind soon, I will choose for you."

To submit would be the ultimate betrayal to everything Will valued: the Ranger Corps, the people he cared about, humanity itself.

To refuse meant his death. Was that not a betrayal as well? He still remembered Halt's last words as the Temujai had dragged Will away. "Will! Stay alive! Don't give up! I'll find you wherever they take you!"

If he died, if he gave up, was that not its own betrayal? A betrayal of the only man who had ever-

He closed his eyes. He forced himself to finish the sentence: the only man who had ever been a father to him. How could he betray that?

But no matter what he chose, he would do just that. If he submitted, if he joined forces with the Temujai, he would betray Halt with his mind. If he refused, he would betray Halt with his life.

The Tem'uj broke through his reverie with a fist that sent Will stumbling backwards.

"We don't have all day," he snarled. "Submit or die!"

"No, I-I can't."

"Can't?" the Tem'uj said. He grabbed Will by the throat, claws digging into his flesh. "If you won't choose, No-Name, I will."

"I- can I-" the Tem'uj's claws dug harder into Will's throat, winding him. "W-Wait! Give me- just give me time!"

"We have given you time, child." The monster slammed Will into a wall. His head hit the mildewed stone with a thud. Will grunted in pain, blinking the darkness out of his vision. "Time's up now. Choose."

Will struggled, gagging and trying to speak, but in vain. As the seconds ticked by, the lack of air combined with Will's racing heart began to wear on him. He felt his legs begin to go numb and realized this was his last chance to escape.

He reached deep inside him, gave a desperate prayer to any god who'd listen, and yanked.

A flicker of light, barely more than a spark, sank into the hand locked around Will's neck. The Tem'uj screeched in surprise and drew his hand back, letting Will go. He dropped to the ground with a groan and struggled to standing. Just that small burst of light had nearly drained him dry. What had they done to him?

Will lunged, tackling the Tem'uj to the ground and punching him in the head where his scar was. The monster let out an inhuman shriek. He clawed at Will, forcing him to shift to the right to avoid him. As Will did so, the Tem'uj threw himself onto Will, toppling him to the ground so he was on top instead.

"Give up," he hissed. "You won't defeat me. And even if you did, there are legions after me."

Will stared up at the unforgiving face of his captor. His labored breathing was ragged and loud in the tense stillness of the cell.

"I'll give you one more opportunity. If you won't submit...I'll kill you where you stand."

There was only one thing that Will knew with absolute certainty. He set his jaw and lifted his chin. "I will never betray them."

"Very well."

The Tem'uj raised one arm, claws gleaming dimly in the light.

Will thrashed violently, kicking and screaming with all his might. When the Tem'uj's other arm came in front of him, he bit down on it as hard as he could. It was like biting stone.

The Tem'uj shrieked, hitting him in the head so hard he passed out for a moment. He came to seconds later, but it was already too late. The Tem'uj had an iron grip on him, and this time Will knew there was no escape.

Had...had it really come to this? That had been his last chance to escape. He had no more. He'd failed.

Blood trickled down his face, accompanying the throbbing in his skull. His entire body was covered in scratches and bruises both from his recent struggle and from the abuse he'd been subjected to over the past weeks. Whatever flicker of power he'd had was gone, leaving him limp and numb to the bone. He was too weak to struggle. He had exhausted every path of escape. He was out of time, and there was no one coming for him.

The Tem'uj's arm raised again.

Will sent one last prayer to Apollo.

Then there was nothing left to do but die.

But just as the Tem'uj's arm reared back to strike, Will heard a sudden commotion outside the door. Raised, guttural voices shouted in a cacophony that stopped right in front of the door. It wrenched open and another Tem'uj stuck his head in. He looked disheveled, as though he'd just been in a scuffle.

"We're under attack. Everyone to arms."

Will's Tem'uj snarled. His grip around Will's neck tightened, causing Will to choke. "I'm busy!"

"To Tartarus with your business," the other Tem'uj snapped. "Our facility is about to be compromised. Get out here or I'm reporting what's left of you after I'm finished beating you to dust."

Will's Tem'uj growled but released Will. He went to the door but stopped as he reached it and turned back. "Don't worry, No-Name. The next time you see me, you'll be a dead man."

Then he was gone.

xXx

xXx

xXx

A/N: Because I can't escape from the memes: when Apollo's yelling at Halt, there's one line I subconsciously modeled after a meme and didn't realize it. After I wrote the "you come here, uninvited, to the god's throne room" bit I kept wondering where I'd heard that before. Now I remember.

YoU cOMe iNtO mY HoUsE
dISrESpEct MY MINTS

In other news, is it getting angsty enough for y'all? No? Good, because it only gets worse from here. :)