Hello peoples! Hope you had a great Thanksgiving! This chapter is probably the longest, so I can actually say why it took so long. Also, I haven't done a disclaimer in a while, so:

I DO NOT OWN PJO/HOO, OR ANY OTHER COPYRIGHTED WORKS YOU ASSOCIATE THIS FANFICTION WITH. I ONLY OWN MY OCs, WHO ARE INTRODUCED IN THIS CHAPTER.

Here you guys go!

Piper's POV

It's so cold. Why is it so cold? I can't see anything, and I can't move. Everything hurts, but I can't cry out. It's only darkness. Cold darkness. It feels like hours pass in the ceaseless emptiness, until finally the world is flooded with light.

I'm in a room. A cold, white room. Completely empty, except for a simple white bed with white sheets. Three walls are pure, shockingly white, and the last one is a single mirror spanning the whole wall, floor to ceiling. I stare at my reflection, or who my reflection shows. I'm wearing my tattered clothes that I remember putting on this morning. My head feels like it's been whacked with a sledgehammer.

All of a sudden, piano music starts to play. Gentle and calming music, like the kind someone would play at a fancy party. Then, the room changes. The mirror ripples, parting as if it's a pair of curtains being pushed apart. A young woman steps in, a scrawny kid with black hair that reminds me of string. She looks at me with an expression of disgust, walks across the room to hand me a box, and then starts to leave.

The box contains new clothes, a book, and a weird colorful tablet wrapped in plastic. I call out after him.

"Wait! Where am I?"

She stares at me for a minute, before speaking.

"Change into the clothes. Before you go to bed, place your old ones in the box and leave it by the mirror. The tablet should help with the pain."

She continues to leave, but that's not happening until I get some answers. I sprint over to the mirror, and kick it with all the strength I can muster. It shatters into pieces, and I grab one, ignoring the sting of when it cuts my hand. The girl is frozen in fear.

I wrap my free arm around her, putting her in a headlock with the jagged glass pressing to her throat. She makes a choked cry for help.

"Look, you're going to tell me everything I tell me to know, right now. Do exactly what I say, or I'll kill you. Where am I? What is this place?"

She makes another choked cry, so I press the glass harder, making tiny beads of blood appear.

"Y-you're in our h-holding building until s-she decides w-what t-to do with you."

"Who is she?"

She shakes her head. "She'll kill me if I tell you."

"And I'll cut you open now if you don't."

"She is our leader. No one except the really high-ups know who she really is."

"How do I get out of this place? Am I still on the island?"

"Yes. But there's no way out, unless…"

"Unless what?"

"No. I can't say."

"Fine then." I press the glass to her neck, blood running down her neck.

The girl pushes me back and gets loose as she lets out a shrill scream. But it's not in pain. She calls out a name, her voice laced with terror.

"Ash! Help me!"

Before I can grab her again, a boy runs in. He looks first at the shard of glass, then me, then the girl and the blood from the wound, which wasn't deep enough to kill her. She leans against the wall, panting. He's holding a syringe, and he's on me before I can even speak. The needle pokes into my arm, and the glass drops to the floor as I do. Tranquilizer. I collapse into the boy's arms and succumb to sleep.

When I wake up again, I'm in another room. This time, it's like a jail cell. There are metal bars and the walls are gray, covered with grime. I'm on a slightly padded table, dressed in the same clothes as earlier. A neon green band on my arm reads McLean, 23. Prisoner ID: Number 35498. A man, probably in his late forties, looks through the bars at me. He smiles, looking friendly enough, but I don't miss the gun at his belt.

I try to sit up, but a band around my waist prevents me from going too high. The man comes over to the bars, a friendly but cautious expression on his face.

"Miss McLean, please stay calm. I know you have questions, but first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Patrick Thornwood, but you may call me Pat. I'd also like you to formally meet my niece, Claire."

The girl from earlier, the one from the white room, walks forward, an expression of reproachful fear on her face. I can see now how young she looks, barely even 16. Her eyes are a unique purple, and her long black hair nearly reaches her waist. She's got a petite build, probably 5'3 at most, and even in her baggy shirt, I can tell she's thin. A child.

Pat speaks up. "Claire, say hello."

Claire looks at me, then says with a tinge of anger in her voice, "Piper, you had passed quarantine. You could've been put into standard quarters. All you had to do was what I told you, and-"

Pat cuts her off. "Claire, run along. That's enough."

She shoots me a final look, before quickly walking away.

Pat sighs. "Teenagers."

"You said you'd answer my questions. Where am I? Why am I here? Who are you people?"

"Hey there. I can only answer two of those. You're here because She wants you to be. And we're the natives. This is our island, you are intruders."

"But where are we?"

"On the island."

"Where on the island?"

"I can't tell you. But you have to stay in the cell until She grants your release."

"Who is She?"

"I can't tell you that, either."

"Why should I believe anything you say?"

"It's not like you have anything else to believe."

Pat smirks. He's won.

"I'll pick you up tonight for dinner. You can sit with my unit. But then you gotta come back here, okay?"

I don't say anything, but he takes that as an answer. Pat leaves, whistling.

After an hour or two pass, he comes back to open the cell. As soon as the door opens, the boy from earlier, Ash, I think, walks in and cuffs me. He's the opposite of gentle, and I don't miss the taser and gun at his belt. He pushes me forward roughly, and I shuffle forward.

"Never touch Claire again. You hear me?"

I can only nod as we walk to a glass door, revealing a jungle outside. The large print on the door reads Unit 304. Pat uses a key to open the door, and we step onto a stone walkway inside the lush tropical paradise. A big pool is on the left of us, and a golf course on the right.

"Everything's completely simulated. It's a jungle this month, a desert next, and I think a beach in a little while," Pat says, casually trying to make conversation.

We come to a group of picnic tables, and a large buffet adjacent to it. The food looks amazing, succulent smells curling in clouds of steam off of the meal. The line is people of all ages, chattering and laughing.

Claire has saved us a spot at one of the tables, already having got her food. She sends me a glare, but her eyes betray her. She looks nervous, not angry. I consider returning the glare, but then I remember the fear she showed when I first threatened her life. I try to send a smile, but she looks away.

Ash pushes me into a seat, setting down a plate for me, but I can't eat until someone takes off my goes back to the buffet to get food for himself, and Pat follows suit. The tension between Claire and I is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Finally I try to break the ice by saying a little "Hello."

Claire stares at me for a minute, then responds. "How's your hand?"

I look down at the hand I had used to hold the glass. The cut has been miraculously stitched up, and it no longer hurts. "Better."

She stabs her food with a fork, but doesn't eat. "Ash's mad. He says that you should eat in your cell. But uncle Pat said you could eat with us."

"What do you think about that?" I ask it before I can even think about what I just said.

She looks at me in shock. "I-i don't know."

We are silent until Ash and Pat come back to the table. Ash sits next to Claire, and you can really see the differences between them. Ash is tall, at least 5'11, and Claire is small. Ash's blonde hair and green eyes nearly glow in the setting sun, but Claire's features are full of shadow. She's wearing a tank top with a baggy brown jacket, and I can see the stitched-up gash from earlier. Ash has one arm around her shoulders, and the two look like a match made in heaven.

I can feel a pang of sadness as thoughts of Jason fill my head. But my daydreaming is interrupted by Pat unlocking my cuffs.

"Eat. Tomorrow you won't be able to eat with us, so the portions will be controlled."

I stare at the food suspiciously. It could be poisoned. As if she read my mind, Claire speaks up.

"There's nothing wrong with it. What use would we have to kill you?"

I slowly raise the fork to my mouth, the smell of perfectly cooked chicken filling my nostrils. The food is amazing, and it takes me a few minutes to clear my plate. I haven't had food like this since before the plane took off.

After the meal, my cuffs are put back on. We walk back to my cell, and when we say our goodnights, Pat explains after-dinner activities. Claire and Ash go to the Rec Center, a place where the juniors play games until 10:00, and then they go to either the standard quarters, or in Ash and Claire's case, they go to their houses. Houses, here?

After a quiet "goodnight" from Claire, and a wave from Ash, my cuffs are taken off and I am allowed to use a blanket to cover me as I sleep on the hard table.

As I drift off into the realm of dreams, I have one final thought.

"What a place."

Would you guys want me to do a Christmas special? Or should I just keep doing normal chapters? Don't forget to like and subscribe- oops, wrong thing. Remember, reviews take a minute, but can make someone's whole day. Love you guys!