OH MY GODS! I haven't updated in ages, have I? I'M SO SORRY, GUYS! I've been drowning in due assignments . . . *shudder* but after some proof-reading and editing, HERE IT IS!

Once again I'm sorry it took so long, but hopefully this makes it up to you.

I might warn you there's a lot of malicious violence in this, okay? Good. And, uh . . . beware the shocks. HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS BEFORE THEY BLOW OFF!

That just sounded wrong. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A FRIEND GIVES ME SUGAR. I. GO. HYPER.

Just beware of the shocks. Brace yourself for everything. Good.

Review Replies:

awesomesawse: Oh my gods that's so close! I NEED TO START PROPERLY FANGIRLING! Have you heard the news? THE RELEASE DATE OF THE HOUSE OF HADES IS OUT! It's the 8th of October this year, people. Oh. My. Gods. Ask away! I get too excited with questions. *grin*

sunnyday45: YES! WE MUST! Right, no, you didn't miss anything. IT'S ALL EXPLAINED HERE!

toe walker: yeah, Nevermore was just SHIT! Pardon my french. Okay, it had to be said. And since I'm nearing the end of the school term all the swearing's coming out. So please excuse that.

cuzican: sorry, just no. A) because I'm not a cross-fandom shipper and b) because just no. I am a strong upholder of Percabeth and Ten. I really just don't do this sort of thing. I SHIP THE CANNON, PEOPLE!

But I can still see why you asked that.

Disclaimer: I JUST DON'T OWN NOTHIN' AT ALL, NOT EVEN ANNABETH'S TELEKENETICS, BECAUSE THAT WAS CAT'S IDEA!

"All my life, I was told to be free;

"Free as the sky, free as the moon,

"Free as the birds that fly at Midsummer's noon,

"But in the end, that is why I am forever bound and yet freer than free,

"Because, you see, my humanity has fled me." No I don't own that either. I have no idea who does.

Chapter 21: Humanity has Fled Me

I stumble on the slick ground, wondering if Annabeth is back at Odysseus yet. We split up after we defeated the monsters, so we could deal with them ourselves. Then we walk back alone and meet up at Odysseus.

It starts raining, and I pull my jacket tighter around myself. I hunch my shoulders and walk through the rain, trying my best to ignore the burning cold feeling it gives me. The lights of Odysseus shine through the blurry landscape, and I walk towards them. I see my breath blooming out in front of me in a white cloud. How can it be so hot and yet so cold?

How can you be so innocent and yet so guilty? A voice asks in my head. It is my voice, no one else's. I clench my jaw and keep walking. How can you shoot innocents and yet still think you are the one that deserves pity that you cast aside?

My heel slips from under me and I slam onto my back, winding me. The mud is cold against my spine. I mutter curses and get back to my feet. When I stand, I can see someone silhouetted against the blurry sky. It was distinctly female, and when the light caught her shape I recognised her.

It was the same girl I had seen at the Dauntless compound. With the purple robes and medals. Her black hair caught the light and her dark eyes looked at me. I see you, she said. Her mouth moved, but the only sound I could hear other than the pattering of the rain was in my head.

"I know," I say. "You're the girl from before."

Who are you, girl? You are not from my time. You do not belong here.

I scowl. "But you're the one here. You're the one standing in front of Odysseus."

Now the girl scowled, her dark eyebrows meeting in a strong glare. No, you are standing on the hill of the Greeks' camps. You are the one that does not belong here.

"But . . . I'm seeing you here. Are we seeing each other in our times?"

Most likely so.

"I'm. . . I'm Tris. Legion of Jupiter."

Legion of Jupiter? The girl is skilled at disguising her expressions. How old are you?

"Sixteen," I snap at her. "And in this future—" I would say more but lightning lances across the sky and thunder cracks. I don't know why, but something in me says that it is a good idea not to say any more. "What is your name? Who are you?"

Tris, Legion of Jupiter, you shall not find that out from me.

Lightning flashes again, and when my vision clears she's gone.

For a moment I can't move. Three seconds, I tell myself. Three seconds of shock and then I will move on.

One. I take a deep breathe, feeling my chest expand.

Two. I fling my wet hair from my face, shake my jacket to get the water off.

Three. I move on.

The ground if more muddy here, and my feet sink into the ground. I have only ever seen mud at Amity, back when I was little and there was a puddle where the sprinklers had leaked. My mother had pulled me away, saying it wasn't good behaviour: that it was selfish. Of course she would.

What sickens me is the fact that thinking about my mother gives me no pain. The pain that she is no longer here is what has always pained me. It doesn't.

I glare at the muddy ground and trudge to the concrete walls of Odysseus. I feel my way along until I feel the crack in the cement. Working my fingers down I find the small ledge, and a small pull opens up to a small hole. I crawl into it, and the small light source closes, and I am plunged into darkness.

I am forced to crawl up, until I reach the ventilation system. I look up through the first vent, seeing a training room lined with targets. A group of people stand at the other end of the room, firing arrows. Barely any land a centimetre from the bullseye.

I crawl further, until I find an empty training room. I push the grate up and climb through, pulling myself up with just my arms. I swing my legs up and then slide the grate back over the hole.

"Been somewhere, have we?" someone asks.

As Screech had told him, the nightclub was where he found the guy. Not that it was that hard to find. Screech had said small. Maybe it was just Tobias that didn't know what small was.

But "small" Screech had meant 30 storeys or neon purple lights on a building, with some heavy rock music wafting out of it. People were littered around the entrance, along with some beefy bouncers. Clyde swallowed and walked towards them.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap . . . Tobias was muttering. You can't be serious about this.

Clyde ignored him.

As Clyde walked towards the entrance, a bouncer stopped him. He loomed over Tobias, lifting his shades to see him better. Tobias stared at his small, pale blue eyes. The bouncer shrugged. He put a hand on Tobias's shoulder and shoved him towards the entrance. Three more bouncers watched him intently as he walked in.

The doorman pulled open the door.

Tobias was blinded by the sudden noise and lights and smells of it all. Clyde stepped forward, even though it was taking time to adjust. There was a main stage three levels up suspended in the air, and underneath was the bar. Around the centre stage were stands. On the ground level there were a few smaller stages with people milling around them. Someone pushed past Tobias, holding a hand over their mouth. They were probably about to vomit.

No name. That's all Tobias could think. There had to be a thousand people in here. Clyde didn't want the people here to know that he had been the one to kill the man. Tobias was vetoing against it. He wanted to get out. Why did Clyde make trouble for himself?

Clyde walked into the lift first, going with the assumption that, if this guy went down on Tuesdays to announce the winner of some sort of competition, then he'd have to be an owner or worker in some way. With a face that ugly, he had to be an owner.

Clyde went straight to the top level. If Tobias had control of his body, he would have been pacing, muttering about how stupid Clyde was.

And then he remembered. He remembered who Clyde loved.

Why? He asked quietly. Clyde ignored him, but Tobias could feel the guy's tension. Clyde clenched his fists, tightening so hard that his fingernails made his skin bleed.

The lift stopped at the 30th floor, and Clyde stepped out. Tobias could feel the tremble in his step, but he was surprised at how well Clyde was hiding it. Shoulders set back and head up high. He didn't appear scared.

He stopped at the door labelled "Mark Oak". Under it was the sign "owner and proprietor."

Clyde pulled back a fist and knocked on the door. To his surprise, it was answered by a woman.

She had mousey-brown hair with a duckbill nose. Her two front teeth were yellowed, and her eyes were slightly blood-shod, like she was sleep-deprived. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Can I help you?"

"Uh . . . I'm looking for Mark—"

"Oaks, yeah, I figured. Mark isn't here at the moment. If he's not dead then he's on his way. Thank you and goodbye."

She started to close the door, but Clyde jammed his toes in. "How long will he be?"

The woman didn't look at all frightened. Her eyes remained bored. "I don't know. Depends how many women he bought."

"You can't buy women."

"Yes you can." The woman went and sat behind a desk. "Well, you can rent them for a night, anyway."

"That's just . . ."

"Gross? Unjust? Exactly something a Watcher would say."

"I never said I was a—"

"No, you didn't. But you have their mark."

"What mark?" Instinctively Clyde checked his arms, so did Tobias. Was it possible he had a sort of tattoo or something?

"The mark on your jacket pocket. After being in Odysseus a program gets sort of, sent into the fabric of your clothing, colouring some of the threads or whatever bronze, until you can see their mark. It's quite ingenious, actually. In the event of an emergency it disappears, using your heartbeat and such as a guide."

Clyde snatched his right jacket pocket and searched for the mark. Sure enough, there was a small circle with a W inside it, with a small K in one of the W's bends.

"But . . . how did you know to look for that? Who are you?"

"I wouldn't ask that question again, if I were you, boy," the woman snarled, any sense of friendliness gone. Her eyes weren't blood shod anymore, they were clear and black. "Not to mention Watcher boy."

"I'm sorry. It's just . . . no one ever mentioned this mark before."

The woman turned back to the screen of her computer. "Many people don't, because Watchers are cheating bastards, schieming, scandalous—"

"So, you hate me?"

"Technically it's against the law for me to hate science, even if it is Gaos science." She looked back at him. "Don't play dumb, I know you're an Eidolon, and I know that there is a fault in you, because I can still see the host. He's still there, in your eyes."

Tobias couldn't contain the fear he felt. Clyde clamped his mouth shut. If Gaos found out, then it would be the end of the road. "Oh come on. I do not work for Gaos. Well, not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

The woman sorted. "I spent time as Watcher, I know their systems and crap like that. So I know about their mark. The Wester mark is easier to spot. Tattoo on the inside of the arm."

Percy used to have one of those, Tobias though, coming out of is shock.

That's a complicated story.

So you know why? I thought he was Greek.

He is. And he's Roman. And he's really complicated. You learn this stuff in Gaos. He used to be the 'Most Wanted', I guess. Then he and that girl died and that was the end of it, really. Well, those who were in Tartarus know more than I do, but they were pretty bad even after death.

"Oi, can you two shut up," the woman snapped. "I'm trying to work."

"Well," Clyde said. "You weren't invited to listen."

"You weren't invited to listen," the woman repeated in a mock voice. "Then, Agent T01, or Clyde, as you prefer, and Tobias, some people are too loud to ignore."

The woman flashed a grin.

Annabeth didn't bother with the hidden entrance. She trudged right through the front door, soaking wet and covered in mud and feeling miserable. Guards aimed guns and bows at her, raised swards to her throat but she kept walking, oblivious.

"Annabeth Chase, you are so dead," Thalia said. She crossed her arms.

Annabeth kept walking.

"Annabeth, where are you going? Can't you hear me?"

"Not in a million years, Thalia," she snapped, not looking around.

She stopped when something blocked her path. She recognised the thing as Nico, and behind him was Tris, looking more annoyed than scared. Annabeth wouldn't meet their eyes, but rather stared straight ahead. "Can I help you?"

"Where were you?"

"In Tartarus. Next question."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Nico said sharply. "Where were you?"

"I never ask where you are, so don't ask me."

"You know what? You're right. I should demand it." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. "Where the hell were you?"

Annabeth yanked his hand away. "That's better, then. Anyway, you can't make me tell you."

"Fine then. Earlier we got a message from Gaos." Maybe that should have shocked Annabeth, but it didn't. Deep down she had been hoping for them to respond. "They said that they found their guards tortured and dead. One of them managed to cough out 'Watchers. Legion of Jupiter. Chase.'" Nico let that sink in.

It didn't.

"That's what we wanted," Annabeth snarled. "They deserved what they got!"

"Annabeth, this is a war. Hundreds of people die every day! What makes the fact that two people also died?"

"Because they didn't deserve to!" she screamed. "They didn't deserve to die!"

"No one deserves to die, Annabeth," Nico's voice was dangerously quiet. Suddenly he seemed like a very dark person. Annabeth knew she should listen. She knew that she was merely killing for the sake of killing, in some sick idea of revenge, but she didn't care.

She didn't care.

"Yeah, and no one says that. No one makes them pay."

"This is war, Annabeth. People die. Everyone dies eventually. All that you seem to care about is the time they died."

"I care about who died. Firstly he's kicked out of his own body; then he has to kill himself to get rid of it!"

"Percy did what had to be done!"

"No he DIDN'T!"

"What would you rather have happened? Percy decided to make sure he stayed alive and kept the Wraith here so that he could get destroyed again, maybe completely this time, and that the Wraith would wreak havoc again? So that we all ended up dead?"

Annabeth clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. She could feel the ground rattling under her feet, most likely where Nico was trying not to summon skeletons. Annabeth clenched her jaw and glared at the ground. She would not lose it. Not here.

She pushed past Nico into the hall. But he grabbed her arm, his strong grip squeezing it so hard she nearly cried out. That was it. She whirled around. Jabbing her hand forward and watched him slam against the ground. She hadn't touched him.

That's what she'd wanted.

Nico stared at her. "What did you do?" maybe he wasn't trying to sound mean, but his voice was almost growling. Annabeth was shaking. "Don't push your luck, di Angelo."

She turned on heel and sped off.

Annabeth walks away.

I don't. I don't get the chance to.

Nico watches Annabeth storm off, her fists shaking in rage. But he doesn't let me go. No, he gets Thalia to take me to his 'office'.

It's a small plain room. Concrete walls with two symbols painted on the back of the door, one that looks like some sort of human figure with their hands thrown up, and one of a sort of helmet.

"Sit," he says sharply. I can fell Thalia's eyes on me. Not angry with me, more concerned. "Don't be too hard on her Nico. She's not used to this."

"Don't interfere, Thalia."

"Don't interfere? You just shut up, Death Boy. Maybe everyone else is afraid of you, but I can tell you right now that your only cousin left is most certainly not."

She doesn't shout, but her voice seems to crack with electricity, almost shocking him. Thalia slams the door after herself.

For a while Nico just stares at where she left, then he puts his head in his hands. "I will give you," he says, sounding consumed with fatigue. "One minute to explain."

"Explain what?" maybe I'm like Thalia. I find a way to get angry with Nico easily. Or maybe more like Lynn. Lynn . . .

"Everything." Nico looks up, and his dark eyes search my face. They're the eyes of someone far older than how old Nico looks. He rubs the stubble on his chin. "Starting now."

"What am I meant to say? Annabeth hates her life now that the most important thing in it is gone? I help her because I'm feeling the same thing? Thalia hates you right now because you're treating her like a child when she's older than you? Or maybe you want the other side of things. The fact that I want my revenge because I know what Tobias is feeling right now is worse than death."

Nico sighs. He rubs his eyes. "So you know about the Eidolons, then."

I hadn't wanted to, but even as a prisoner in Gaos I had picked things up. "Yeah, I know. And I know that even thought I had fought so hard to get out of my city, that my family had died trying to get the information that there was a place out here out in the public, I hate it. I hate the fact that it went so wrong. Tobias is dead or a mindless thing being driven by some monster that is nothing more than a mist, I have watched my best friends die and now my newest friend break apart and fix herself up so that she teeters on the edge of shattering. You may understand many things, Nico. Maybe you have had sisters or brothers or friends that have died, but you don't understand this."

Nico puts his face back in his hands. His shaggy hair falls over his fingers, obscuring his face. "People always assume that, don't they?" Nico shook his head, still covering his face. "People always think that I, of all people, would remain the same way. Guess what? I'm older than 100. You can change in that time. You want to know how I knew Amelia Angels?"

Suddenly it all becomes clear. I can't stop my mouth from falling open.

"Yeah," he says. "Just like everyone else that was part of the Seven, we all grew up."

Too loud to ignore.

Clyde shouldered his way through the crowd that was forming around the stage. He had wanted to do this in private, but maybe it had to be said that this guy had enemies.

Have you actually wondered why Screech sends us after these guys? Tobias pestered him. Why are we doing his dirty work? What makes him so special?

Clyde ignored him, as per usual.

He ended up being shoved against the railing by some girls. Maybe they were older than they looked, but they didn't look older than eighteen. Wasn't there something that said you had to be 21 and over to enter nightclubs?

Don't be ridiculous. This is Wester country. You do anything you want just you have to get the punishments.

Okay, then what's the punishment for killing this guy in public?

Most likely whipping until dead.

Pleasant, was all Tobias could say. Deep down, it wasn't the pain or death that scared him. It was the fact that Tris was probably still alive and he would never get to see her again.

Something told him that was most likely what Clyde was feeling. Except he wanted to talk to her, to tell her that even though there were two guys in there they were still almost exactly the same.

For some reason, Tobias couldn't find a way to hate him for that. Tris was too good for him, he realised. Who was he to go around saying he didn't fit in? Who the hell did that? But Clyde . . . Clyde could fit in anywhere. He knew everything about this place. He had all of Tobias's knowledge of his city and his own knowledge of the world. He would fit in, just like Tris.

He was better than Tobias.

Dude, shut up, you're making my aim go crap.

Tobias didn't reply. Clyde was the better guy. Maybe he should just . . .

Don't you dare disappear on me now, Tobias Eaton or I swear to God I will hunt you down and kill you.

How can you kill me if I'm dead? Moreover, how would you find me?

I have my ways. Now stay right where you are. Or so help me I'll have to kill your body as well. I hope I don't end up in a girl. Urgh.

If Tobias could smile, he would have. Clyde pulled out the small handgun from his pocket, pressing it tight to his side.

The guy walked out on stage. Neither Tobias nor Clyde could see his face, but he looked chunky and his hair was right. So it had to be this guy, right?

"Hello, people!" the man called out. He had the same sort of deep, tired voice Tobias expected. "I am Mark Oaks, and I am here to announce the competition winners!"

Let's go for dramatic, Clyde decided, lifting the heel of the gun to his chest, pointing the barrel at the guy. Tobias didn't doubt that he would hit the guy.

"And this week, the winner is . . ."

The drumroll started, and it became so loud Clyde could barely hear anything.

His finger curled around the trigger and pulled it back.

The bang was the last noise. As the drumroll was about to cease, and the first sound came from Mark Oak's mouth the bang sounded. He fell forwards, plummeting off the stage and slamming into the ground far, far below, after sliding between the nets.

Thud. Clyde peered over the edge, tucking the gun in his pocket.

His stomach sunk.

He could see the man's face. It wasn't pudgy at all. It was completely different to the guy Screech had sent him to kill. But wasn't that man meant to be here to announce the contest winner?

Tobias revolted inside his head.

They had killed an innocent guy.

As if manifesting from the shadows and stunned silence, someone grabbed his arm and led him out of the club. Clyde didn't protest. He was dragged out and the guy threw him on the street.

It was the same guy that had warned him in the bar. He looked at Clyde with steady, dark eyes shrouded in shadow.

"Like I said; bad idea."

And then it all went blank.

Annabeth was hanging on the windowsill of her room. They hadn't bothered to lock her in, they just closed the door. That was it. Her fingers were going numb from clutching onto the concrete ridge, with only those ten little joints to hold up the weight of her body.

She sucked in the cold, heavy, blood-threaded air, feeling her ribcage expand against the cold concrete wall. The wind blew her hair into her face, which irritated her. She couldn't afford to have her hair in the way. With only her fingertips to pull her up, she climbed back against the wall and pulled herself back into her room.

This room hadn't been painted. There were bare, grey concrete walls and a cot of a bed. There was a stool for a dresser and a fragment of blunt glass for a mirror. Annabeth didn't care. She pulled her small knife from her back pocket and tied back her hair. She gripped the tail of her curly hair in hand. Maybe she didn't want to do this; her hair had stuck with her even through Tartarus.

The world of the living is the only hell you will ever know.

Annabeth took a deep breath, looking at the long curly blonde hair clutched in her fist. If this was the life she was choosing, then she wasn't Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, Architect of Olympus anymore. Annabeth snorted. She couldn't believe that wanting to design Olympus has once been her dream job. What was her dream job now? Mindlessly killing things?

She clenched her jaw and cut the hair. She felt the weight in her hand lift, and when she looked down there it was, the hair she has grown up with, all over the ground. But this wasn't the end. Sure, her hair was shorter, but not short enough. She remembered when Tris had told her about her friend Lynn, who had shaved off her hair. Maybe that was too short. But it had to be short.

It was about time she saw some of Odysseus's facilities.

Nico lets me out after that. There isn't really that much to do, but when I am bombarded by Uriah, I know that I have to pick up my act. Maybe I should try and preserve a wisp of my old self.

"Tris!" he calls, almost hesitantly. I watch him weave through the crowd of legions and soldiers, puffing as he catches up with me. "God, you people are . . . I don't know what you are, but you're definitely them."

"Yep, we're all serial killers over here. What do you want?"

Uriah bites his lip. "Well, since I just got out of 'jail', I was wondering if you could show me around."

"There's not that much to see, other than the training rooms."

"Then I want to see them." I shrug. I had wanted to see them when I first came here, back when Tobias was still alive . . . "Where do you want to start? There's swimming pools."

"I can't swim."

"You'll learn."

"No, really, I can't—"

"You'll learn," I snap. "You only have to nearly drown once or twice and then you're good."

"Actually, let's go for something else."

"Guns."

"I thought you couldn't—"

"Things change. Let's go over there. You have to be able to fire a gun goddamned well if you want to survive out here."

"Yeah," Uriah rubs the back of his neck. "I realized."

"Did you run into Gaos soldiers or something?" I key in the code to the training rooms, not looking up.

"What? No. Who are they, anyway? No, I ran into these guys with marks on them—like tattoos, just . . . marks."

"Westers," I confirm. "I haven't run into them yet, but loads of people want me dead now anyway." I pull the door open. "After you."

Uriah walks into the dark room, then jumps as the lights come on. I push past him and open the door to the supply cupboards. "Since when did you become so acquainted with this place?" Uriah asks, peeking over my shoulder as I sort through guns. "Since they taught me that there's no such thing as fair."

I pull out a few guns, and sling a rifle over my shoulder. I take a few packets of bullets with me. "Are you practicing with . . . what are those?"

"They say mortal steel," I tell him. "Which is the normal stuff. Lead lined for shrapnel."

"And you're practicing with these?"

"Why not? I end up using them enough anyway."

Uriah raises an eyebrow at me as I click a bullet into place. "You're allowed to get your own stuff. You don't have to watch me."

Uriah turns into the supply cupboard, and I start to fire the gun. I move along the targets, seeing a bullet hole open in the bullseye of each one.

When I turn back to Uriah, he's holding a black bow. "What the hell? I've only ever seen these I history books."

"I wasn't aware Dauntless children studied."

"Ha. Ha," Uriah snapped. "But really, why?"

"Because bows and arrows are effective."

Uriah pulls back the string. I have only ever seen Thalia use a bow, and that look she gets was one of pure concentration, like she loved shooting arrows and using bows and because of that she would not dare spoil the aim by smiling. Uriah's face looks like that now. Then he lets go of the string and watches it snap back to its original position.

"You look like you could be a good archer."

I whip around to the sound, and see Thalia sitting on the concrete ledge behind us. She tosses Uriah a silver arrow. "Shoot it, bro."

Uriah looks at the silvery stick in his hand, then back at Thalia. Her face is deadly serious. Uriah swallows and pulls the string back again, holding the arrow. He stands like that for a while, and then releases the arrow.

For a moment it seems I am seeing it in slow motion. I see the arrow get pushed forward by the string, I see it fly from the bow, and then I see it lodge in the target. It isn't in the bullseye, which makes me slightly disappointed in some way.

Thalia nods. "There's an archery lesson after lunch. You should come."

Uriah grins. It makes memories of Dauntless initiation come to mind, with Lynn, who stomped on my toe, Marlene who had a muffin fired off her head, Tobias who—

I swallowed them down. Instead other memories came to mind; my mother falling with blood dying her clothes red, my father falling also. Jeanine getting stabbed in the stomach, her lifeless body on the stretcher . . . I should not find these thoughts more comfortable than thinking of when they were alive. But I do.

I do.

Tobias couldn't remember what he and Clyde did. He was used to killing people; he was used to planting bullets in their heads without a second thought. But he had never stood there and watched them fall, never watched their listless eyes stare back at him. The woman used to be in his fear landscape for a reason; that he was afraid of regret.

And he regrated taking the life of Mark Oaks, who had been an innocent man that he had killed. He had watched him fall from the stage and seen the blood spread around him like some sick flower, ready to open and bloom around him and then swallow him up.

Tobias had been many things. But he had never been a thief.

Clyde. Of all the people Tobias thought would have trouble coping, he never thought Clyde would. Eidolon's weren't meant to be sympathetic.

But Tobias regretted it. He regretted ending Mark's life; he regretted not being able to stop Clyde. He hadn't even tried. What kind of a person killed a man in cold blood? What kind of a man did that for no money at all? What kind of a person would . . . he just couldn't cope.

They ended up in an alley, draped across the fore escape. Tobias's throat was burning, so he guessed Clyde had thrown up. That was a fail, he moaned.

You're telling me.

No, I'm stating the fact to try and make myself feel better.

Well that worked out, didn't it? Tobias snapped, feeling Clyde rub his throat. Tobias still didn't want to believe the horrible truth: that he had killed and ran. That he had killed an innocent man that had most likely done nothing wrong, a man that had stared back at him as he died.

Clyde swallowed. Stop thinking of that.

Stop listening to what I'm thinking

Learn to keep to yourself.

Get stuffed.

Get f—

An invisible force threw him off the fire escape. Tobias fell ten metres before slamming into the ground. He would have screamed if he had the strength. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he just couldn't.

A shadow loomed over him. "I'm not doing you a favour, so don't thank me."

And then it was all gone.

I walk into the cafeteria and look around for Annabeth. I haven't seen her since she stormed off from Nico. Something in me is almost warning me, warning me to brace myself. Why that is I don't know. I just don't know.

I scan the heads at the tables, looking for anyone familiar. While I may not want to eat, I probably should. I walk into line and grab a tray. Someone in front of me steps on my toe, and I kick them back. They turn around, anger twisting their face. "What was that for, you little kid?"

"That's for stepping on my foot," I snap back.

"Oh? I'm sorry, maybe I should have—"

"Shut up," someone snaps so coldly that I jump. It comes from a girl with their hair buzzed short, with piercings covering her right ear, so it looks almost like there is a chain on her ear. I try to see her face, but I can't. She wears a black hoodie over a grey t-shirt, with torn black jeans. Something about her is familiar.

And then I recognize the voice.

I push in front of the man who stepped on my toe and get tap her on the back. She spins around, hand ready to grab my throat—

Then she stops, and lowers it. "Tris," she says, dully. Like she can't put any feeling into the word. I stare at her. "What did you do to yourself?"

"My hair annoyed me," she answers, like it was obvious. "And they had a sale on—ten piercings and a haircut for half price."

"What?"

"I saw my hair. It was what I had always been. And then I realized that I wasn't that anymore. So off it went."

"And the piercings were a sale."

"Yes. I didn't even realize when they did it."

"Did they have tattoos for sale?"

"No idea," Annabeth replies. "I don't want a tattoo anyway. They're too permanent. Nothing in my life is permanent. So no inking for me."

"Tattoos hurt more," I say, trying to lift her attitude.

"I wasn't doing it for the pain, Tris." Annabeth gets her food from the counter and walks off. I follow her, my tray now heavy with food; food I know I won't eat now.

"Then what were you doing it for?" I inquire, setting my tray down on the table. Annabeth holds a lettuce leaf between her fingers and takes a bite off the end. "I saw my hair blowing in my face. It annoyed me. I cut it off. I've already lost so many things. What's a bit more? Besides, that was what Annabeth Chase; daughter of Athena had looked like. I can tell you right now that I'm not her anymore. Can't believe I used to think architecture was my life."

"Did you want to be an architect?"

Annabeth's eyes become dreamy for a moment. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I wanted to help design Olympus. I wanted to make something permanent; something that I knew would stay there." Her eyes become sharp and she glares at the table. "But not anymore."

Maybe I should ask her about it. Is that what a good friend does? But I don't think that me and Annabeth are 'friends', exactly. Tobias was killed; Percy killed himself. They're both dead. Both od our old lives are far behind us. Except we have loose ends that constantly taunt us, tell us that once upon a time we weren't killing-obsessed girls that wish only to kill and torture the people that caused our pain until they are begging for death.

No, we had not always been like that.

As if on cue, Uriah comes and sits down on your table. He has a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. "Hey," he says. Annabeth glares at the table, obviously trying hard not to get angry at Uriah for interrupting the silence. "Hi, Uriah," I say. Uriah starts shovelling food into his mouth. "Hmm, hhhuuushhh," he says with his mouth full. For a moment a smile tugs at my mouth, but then I realise that one vital thing is missing and that smile goes up in smoke.

"So, what classes are you guys in?" Uriah asks after he swallows. Annabeth doesn't look at him. Shoves a lettuce leaf in her mouth. "I'm not in any classes at the moment. Probation."

"Oh," Uriah sounds disappointed. "Probably because you'd whip their—"

"Who's the teacher for archery?" Annabeth asks suddenly. The piercings on her ear jingle soundlessly. Uriah looks startled. "Thalia is."

Annabeth scowls. "Of course. Why didn't I know that? I should have known that."

"It might be because you're a—" I clamp my hand over Uriah's mouth before he can finish. Annabeth stares daggers at him. "Go on. Maybe if you finish that I'll introduce you to the wall."

Uriah swallows, his eyes painfully wide. I remove my hand and he stays there, almost frozen. Then I realize he is.

"Annabeth," I say softly. "You might want to release his nervous system."

Annabeth frowns and Uriah suddenly lurches forward, gulping in air. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I didn't—"

"Shut up. If there's one thing I hate more than insults, it's apologies."

Uriah clamps his mouth shut. Then he returns to eating. Annabeth stands up. "I'm going to hack into the system and see what video it was that Gaos sent us." She glances across at Uriah with venom I never thought Annabeth would have, then she walks off. I press my palms to my face. This isn't right.

"Hey, you okay?"

"No," I snap. "Do I look okay? Urgh. I just . . . nothing works!"

I'm surprised at the height my voice can reach, but apparently the rest of Odysseus are used to outbursts. I let my head fall to the table. I squeeze my eyes shut. "I can't do this. I have lost everything that I care about, and now I just . . . how and I meant to pick up the pieces when there is nothing left to pick up?"

Uriah puts a hand on my shoulder. "You start again."

I groaned against the table. "You and I both know that's a hell of a lot harder than it sounds."

"Wasn't it Four that said 'great things are done from struggling through the pain'?"

"No."

"Ah. Well, that makes me look like a complete idiot. Well someone said that, okay?"

"Okay then. Someone said that 'great things are done by struggling through the pain.'"

"Did they? Who was it?"

I bang my head on the table, but I can't stop a small smile.

"You see? I'm epic at this crap."

"Not really," I say, still smiling.

The playfulness in Uriah's tone disappears in an instant. "Then you'd better find someone that is."

Tobias woke up tied to a post. In front of him was a ghostly pale face. With black hair that floated around it as if suspended in water. "Interesting," she said, almost in a whisper but loud enough it could have been a shouting, but even then it sounded musical, like it was echoing around a chamber. "Two souls in one body. And yet they have the same goal."

Clyde swallowed. Tobias stared at her face. Her eyes were black—almost like the Wraith's, but these were dark and deep and held a dark curiosity, rather than the Wraith's malice. "You are alive. The Eidolon did not kill you. Why not? Surely this futile love cannot—"

"Don't say a word against Tris," Clyde snapped. The woman straightened. "Why not? Would it cause you pain, Eidolon?"

"You have no idea," Clyde spat. The woman's eyes hardened so they looked like stones. "You know nothing of pain. You are but a child, bare and unguarded against its wrath."

From the shadows another figure emerged—the boy that had warned Tobias and Clyde, then dragged them from the club. In the ghostly light Tobias could see that his eyes were dark and heavy, weighed down by something. Something dark.

There was more than pain in this boy.

"Ah, there you are," the woman turned. Tobias noticed how graceful she was. "I was thinking of firing you."

The boy said nothing, but stared back at her with dark eyes. The woman turned back to Tobias. From within the sleeve of her shirt she drew a think knife. "It is impossible for an Eidolon to leave their hose unwillingly"—at this the boy snorted. The woman scowled—"but it is certainly possible to make them spill their secrets, especially those unaccustomed to pain."

Clyde looked helplessly at the boy, searching for some sort of help, but the boy stared back with as much evil as pain in his eyes. He wouldn't lift a finger to help him. The woman advanced slowly. "Time to open up, Little Golden Cloud."

No, Clyde said. That's impossible.

Annabeth sat hunched in front of the screen, typing rapidly as the text on the screen began to decode. Annabeth wasn't entirely sure what Gaos would say, but she just wanted to know. Since she had cut her hair off she had come to the conclusion that there was no good or bad; just events.

The screen froze and a green bar of loading came up. Annabeth drummed her fingers against the table. Then the text changed like a wave, and it was readable.

Watchers,

You have committed a most unwelcome crime. Stealing back your prisoners we can accept, it was something you wished on doing. But this new crime we cannot tolerate.

Three remaining Gaos stealth agents were discovered not far from your border. They were on a raid—that is something to be expected at this time—but they were found half-dead, killed with no honour or respect. They were not killed—they were tortured unto death. We are not as uncivilized as we may have seen, in the early days this war started. We know honour. We know that death is unavoidable, but it is a crime to be killed the way these agents were.

One, barely alive, managed to make out the words "Legion of Jupiter . . . Chase . . ." we understand that this refers to the new Legion you have acquired, a Miss Beatrice Prior—or perhaps, Beatrice Grace. And the other, the demigod pulled from the old time, Annabeth Chase. Give us them, and this can be avoided.

But as long as you hold them within the walls of your base, know that whatever tensions that have eased are lowered no longer.

The war has started again. And it will be far, far worse this time, Keeper di Angelo.

Yeah, I can predict that you guys hate me. Cat kinda slightly hates me for what I did to Annabeth, BUT I HAVE MY REASONS, okay? Good. This will all be explained when we get to the proper stuff.

Foutris stuff should be coming in a bit . . . I just gotta get the Gaos stuff done . . . and then we have some complicated bits. But I like the fluff. NOT THE MAKE-OUTS. URGH. The fluff is nice. Other stuff no. And when I say fluff I mean the occasional sweet line in the middle of some huge attack scene. Not romance. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

****EXTRA AWESOME AND COOL QUESTION***

Have you ever ridden a horse? If so, what did you think? Or do you own horses? If you do, then YOU LUCKY -

So yeah. I ride horses in competitions, but just school-horses. I did jumping on a horse called Tom and came 2nd. This was jumping Equitation, though. And then in the jump-off in Showjumping I had a mental blank and lost about 5 seconds, which then shoved me back down to 5th. That was this Monday. I MISSED OUT ON SCHOOL. HELL YEAH.

But my favorite horse is definitely Lucy, but SHE HAD AN EYE REMOVED BECAUSE THE OWNER LET A TUMOR GROW IN HER EYE. I hate that owner now. Lucy's a gentle giant. 16.5 hand Thoroughbred mare. Just she does get a bit excited. I can't ride her yet, though. She has to be broken in again. Pooey. Oh well, I should be able to ride her for next term's club. YAAAAAAYYY!

That's my ranting done. :D

Until the next chapter,

Please R&R,

-Owl