A/N (I recommend reading this): I'm going to MAKE THIS CLEAR. Just like I mention on my bio page about every other fanfiction I done: I DON'T OWN THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN SERIES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Rioran. Also I suggest you guys start paying attention to the Author notes and my warnings that I left on EVERY chapter of EVERY story.
Sorry if this chapter is too much like the book.
Due to the limited number of characters posted, I'm forced to post only the names of the characters telling their tales in this story. When I get to the House of Hades and Blood of Olympus, I'll list off the first four characters listed in the order they tell their tales. I'll post the pairings if the two of the four characters listed are a pair. Other than that, the Pairings stay the same for this story.
Jason x Piper
Percy x Annabeth
Frank x Hazel
If you haven't figured it out, each of the members of the Prophecy of Seven practically has a position. Keep in mind in the original series Juno started this when she told Percy he was the glue that holds the group together, so I thought to give the rest a title. But no matter what title they have they still depend on each other. Titles will be added for some as the series continue
Jason: Leader of the Group
Piper: Peacekeeper
Leo: Mechanic and Seventh Wheel (by Nemesis)
Percy: Glue that holds everyone together
Hazel: Youngest (Literally and figuratively as the title refers to the fact that even though she has proven herself as one of the seven, Hazel still has much to learn compared to the rest about what she is capable to do that can help the group. Keep in mind Hazel has not master shadow travel or Mist Manipulation yet).
Frank: Muscles
Annabeth: Battle Strategist and Consultant
Warning: Certain ancient Greeknames matches words use of foul language but no foul language was intentionally used. Also I dropped the '& the Olympians' in 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians' as well as replaced the '&' with ':' in the short stories of that part of the series. So if you haven't read them yet read 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Early Adventures' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Sea of Monsters' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Titan's Curse' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Magical Labyrinth' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Stolen Chariot' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Sword of Hades', 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Bronze Dragon' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Last Olympian' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Staff of Hermes' 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero' 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Quest for Buford' and 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune' before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned. Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.
Leo's POV Part IX
I wish I wasn't so good.
Really, sometimes it was just embarrassing. If I hadn't had such an eye for mechanical stuff, we might never found the secret chute, gotten lost in the underground, and attacked by metal dudes. But I just couldn't help myself.
Part of it was Hazel's fault. I understand why she was made quest leader in our recon quest—a perfect chance for her to step as a daughter of one of the Big Three by finding leads to her missing brother. But for a girl with super underground senses, she wasn't doing a good here in Rome. She kept leading us around the city, getting dizzy, and doubling back.
"Sorry," she said. "It's just… there's so much underground here, so many layers, it's overwhelming. Like standing in the middle of an orchestra trying to concentrate on a single instrument. I'm going deaf."
As a result, we got a tour of Rome. Frank seemed happy to plod along with a big sheepdog (hmm, I wonder if he could turn into one of those, or even better: a horse that I could ride). But I started to get impatient. My feet were sore, the day was sunny and hot, and the streets were choked with tourists.
The forum was okay, but it was mostly ruins overgrown with bushes and trees. It took a lot of imagination to see it as the bustling center of Ancient Rome—or in my case, seen a similar model in New Rome back in California.
We passed big churches, freestanding arches, clothing stores, fast-food restaurants, and believe it or not Pizza vending machines (I didn't even know there was such a thing). One of the statue of some Ancient Roman dude seemed to be pointing to a nearby McDonalds, which according to Hazel and Frank could just be a coincidence.
On the wider streets, the traffic was absolutely nuts. They spent most of their time weaving through small alleys, coming across fountains and little cafés where I was not allowed to rest. And here I thought people in Houston drove crazy.
"I never thought I'd get to see Rome," Hazel said. "When I was alive, I mean the first time, Mussolini was in charge. We were at war."
"Mussolini?" I frowned. "Wasn't he like BFFs with Hitler?"
Hazel stared at me like was an alien.
"It's an acronym for Best Friends Forever," Frank grunted.
"Oh… Yeah, I would guess," Hazel replied. "I do know they were fighting for the same side. Anyways, if it wasn't for—you know—I would love to visit some of the sites. Like the Trevi Fountain."
"There's a fountain on every block," I grumbled.
"Or the Spanish Steps," Hazel said.
"Why would you come to Italy to see Spanish steps?" I asked. "That's like going to China for Mexican food, isn't it?"
"You're hopeless," Hazel complained.
"So I've been told."
She turned to Frank and grabbed his hand, as if I had ceased to exist. "Come on. I think we should go this way."
Frank gave me a confused smile—like he couldn't decide whether to gloat or to thanks me for being a doofus—but he cheerfully let Hazel drag him along.
After walking forever, Hazel stopped in front of what looked to me like a church. The main section was a big dome roof, while the entrance had a triangular roof. It had the typical Roman columns, and an inscription across the top: M. AGRIPPA something or other.
"Latin for Get a grip?" I speculated.
"This is our best bet." Hazel sounded more certain than she had all day. "There should be a secret passage somewhere inside."
Tour groups milled around the steps. Guides help up colored placards with different numbers and lectures in dozens of languages like they were playing some kind of international bingo.
I decided to listen to the Spanish tour guide for a few seconds—to show Frank and Hazel that I wasn't a complete doofus. Then after listening for a bit, I reported, "This is the Pantheon. It was originally build by Marcus Agrippa as a temple to the gods. After it burned down, Emperor Hadrian rebuilt it, and it's been standing for two thousand years. It's one of the best-preserved Roman buildings in the world."
Frank and Hazel stared at me."
"How did you know that?" Hazel asked.
"I'm naturally brilliant."
"Centaur's poop," Frank said. "He eavesdropped on a tour group."
I grinned. "Maybe. Come on. Let's go find that secret passage. I hope this place as air conditioning."
…
Well, there was no AC, but there weren't any lines inside or any admission fee either, so it was easy for three underage demigods to muscle our way past the tour groups and walked on in.
The interior was pretty impressive, considering it had been constructed two thousand years ago. The marble floor was patterned with squares and circles like a Roman tic-tac-toe game. The main space was one huge chamber with a circular rotunda, sort of like the capital building in the States. Lining the walls were different shrines and statues and tombs and stuff. But the real eye-catcher was the dome overhead. All the light in the building came from one circular opening right at the top. A beam of sunlight slanted into the rotunda and glowed on the floor, like Zeus—or I guess Jupiter since we are in the Roman Gods and personas territory—was up there with a magnifying glass, trying to fry puny humans.
I was no architect like Annabeth and her siblings from Cabin Six or anything about the sites of Ancient Rome without eavesdropping on a tour, but I could appreciate the engineering. The Romans had made the dome out of big stone panels, but they'd hollowed out each panel in a square-within-square pattern. It looked cool. I figured it also made the dome lighter and easier to support.
I didn't mention that to my friends. I doubted they would care, but if Annabeth were here, I won't be surprise if she would spend the whole day talking about it. Thinking about that made me wondered how she was doing on her Mark of Athena expedition. I never thought I'd feel this way, but I was worried about that scary blond girl. From what I understand, not many demigods that go on solo quest complete it and in this case survive.
Hazel stopped in the middle of the room and turned in a circle. "This is amazing. IN the old days, the children of Vulcan would come here in secret to consecrate demigod weapons. This is where Imperial gold was enchanted.
I wondered how that worked. I imagine a bunch of demigods in dark robes trying to quietly rolled a scorpion ballista through the front doors.
I didn't need to ask what god Vulcan was. Thanks to Jason, I know Vulcan was Hephaestus' Roman form. I met my dad once, and I wondered what Vulcan looked like compared to Hephaestus. I get he might be war like, but I wondered if the Romans thought of Vulcan as more or less disabled and beaten up than my dad is.
Meanwhile Hazel was focus on something else. "There's an entrance—a tunnel that will lead us toward Nico. I can sense it close by. I'm not sure where."
Frank grunted. "This building is two thousand years old, it makes sense there could be some kind of secret passage left over from the Roman days."
That's when I made my mistake of simply being too good.
I scanned the temple's interior. If I were designing a secret passage, where would I put it?
I could sometimes figure out how a machine worked by putting my hand on it. I'd learned to fly a helicopter that way. I'd helped Beckendorf put the wings on Festus that way when he was a dragon (before he crashed and burned0. Once I'd even reprogrammed the electronic billboards in Time Square to read: ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO… accidentally, of course. According to my big bro Beckendorf, it was a natural power of Hephaestus that we can use when needed.
Now I tried to sense the workings of this ancient building. I turned toward a red marble altar-looking thing with a statue of the Virgin Mary on the top.
"Over there," I said.
I marched confidently to the shrine. It was shaped sort of like a fireplace, with an arched recess at the bottom. The mantel was inscribed with a name, like a tomb.
"The passage is around here," I said. "This guy's final resting place is in the way. Raphael somebody?"
"Famous painter, I think," Hazel said.
I shrugged. I had a cousin named Raphael, and I didn't think much of the name. I wondered if I could produce a stick a dynamite from my tool belt and do a little discreet demolition. Even if I could, I doubt the caretakers of this place would approve it. Besides, I doubt the Roman demigods back in the states would not like me destroying one of the Original Rome's sacred places, and after having evil possessing spirits making me destroy New Rome, I don't want to give them a real reason to hate me when this war is over.
"Hold on…" I looked around to make sure we weren't being watched.
Most of the tour groups were gawking at the dome, but one trio made me uneasy. About fifty feet away, some overweight middle-aged dudes with American accents were conversing loudly, complaining to each other about the heat. They looked like manatees stuffed into beach clothes—sandals, walking shorts, touristy T-shirts and floppy hats. Their legs were big and pasty and covered with spider veins. The guys acted extremely bored, and I wondered why they were hanging around.
Most importantly, I wondered why they were making me nervous.
Forget them, I told myself.
I slipped around the side of the tomb. I ran my hand down the back of the Roman column, all the way to the base. Right at the bottom, a series of lines that had been etched into the marble—Roman numerals.
"Heh," I said. "Not very elegant but effective."
"What is?" Frank asked.
"The combination for a lock." I felt around the back of the column some more and discovered a square hole about the size of an electrical socket. "The lock face itself has been ripped out—probably vandalized sometime in the last few centuries. But I should be able to control the mechanism inside, if I can…"
I placed my hand on the marble floor. I could sense old bronze gears under the surface of the stone. Regular bronze would have corroded and become unusable long ago, but these were Celestial bronze—the handiwork of a demigod. With a little willpower, I urged them to move, using the Roman numerals to guide me. The cylinders turned—click, click, click. Then click, click.
On the floor next to the wall, one section of the marble tile slid under another, revealing a dark square opening barely large enough for even Hazel and myself to wiggle through.
"Romans must've been small." I looked at Hazel, "Can you shadow travel us down there?"
Hazel shook her head. "I don't even know if I can shadow travel. I never tried."
"Well, if the three of us need to go down there, Frank will need to change into a thinner animal," I replied.
"We should go get the others first," Frank said, "That's what Piper told us to do."
"They're halfway across the city," I reminded him. "Besides, uh, I'm not sure I can close this hatch again. The gears are pretty old."
"Great," Frank turned to Hazel. "What do you think we should do then?"
Hazel frowned like she was uncertain. She knelt and put her hand over the opening as if checking the temperature. "There's nothing alive… at least not for several hundred feet. The tunnel slants down, then level out and goes south, more or less. I don't sense any traps…"
"How can you tell all that?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Same way you can pick locks on marble columns, I guess. I'm glad you're not into robbing banks."
"Oh… Bank vaults," I said. "Never thought about that."
"Forget I said anything." Hazel checked the time. "It's not three o'clock yet. We can at least do a little exploring, try to pinpoint Nico's location before we contact the others. You two stay here until I call for you. I want to check things out, make sure the tunnel is structurally sound. I'll be able to tell more once I'm underground."
Frank scowled. "We can't let you go by yourself. You could get hurt."
"Frank, I can take care of myself," she said. "Underground is my specialty. It's safest for all of us if I go first."
"Unless Frank wants to turn into a mole," I suggested. "Or a prairie dog. Those things are awesome."
"Shut up," Frank mumbled.'
"Or a badger."
Frank jabbed a finger at my face. "Valdez, I swear—"
"Both of you, be quiet," Hazel scolded. "I'll be back soon. Give me ten minutes. If you don't hear from me by the… Never mind. I'll be fine. Just try not to kill each other while I'm down there."
I guess the hole was bigger than I thought because Hazel was able to drop down—that or she somehow made it bigger.
Frank and I blocked her from view as best as we could. We stood shoulder to shoulder, trying to look casual, like it was completely natural for two teenage guys to hang around Raphael's tomb.
Tour group came and went. Most ignored Frank and me. A few people glanced at us apprehensively and kept walking. Maybe the tourist thought we would ask them for tips. For some reason, I could unnerve people when I grinned.
The three Americans were still hanging out in the middle of the room. One of them wore a T-shirt that said ROMA, as if he'd forget what city he was in if he didn't wear it. Every once in a while, he would glance over at Frank and me like he found our presence distasteful.
Something about that dude bothered me. I wished Hazel would hurry up.
"She talked to me earlier," Frank said abruptly. "Hazel told me you figured out about my lifeline.
I stirred. I almost forgotten Frank was standing next to me.
"Your lifeline… oh, the Menelaus curse. Right." I resisted the urge to set my hand ablaze and yell: Bwah ha ha! The idea was sort of funny, but even I wasn't that cruel.
"Look, man," I said. "It's cool. I'd never do anything to put you in danger, and I won't blame you if you back away from me every time I catch on fire."
Frank fiddled with his centurion badge.
"You said your mom died in war, right?" I asked. "Do you have any other family members?"
"I did—I mean I technically still do considering Percy is my thousand times great uncle," Frank said.
"Seriously?" I asked. I knew Frank had some kind of connection to Poseidon since Percy brought up Frank having the blood of Poseidon. But I didn't think they were so distantly related.
Frank nodded. "Then there's Percy's adopted Half-Brother Tyson—and of course Mars and his children—" from the way Frank said that I guess he didn't consider the children of the war god as his half-siblings, "—but other than that, the only relative I had was my grandmother, but from what I understand, she should have died when Thantos was freed."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"She was sick, and pretty old," Frank said.
"So it's possible she died of old age."
Frank nodded. "What about you? You said your mom died in a fire?"
"Well, there's not much to say myself," I said. "After my mom died, my aunt Rosa turned the rest of my family against me—blaming me for my mom's death. After that I bounced around foster families—running away from five of them myself. Then the court sentence me to Wilderness School where I met Piper and Jason—"
"After Juno took him from Camp Jupiter," Frank said.
"Yep," I replied. "Then during a field trip we were attacked by storm spirits and picked up by Annabeth and one of Piper's half-sisters and took us to camp half-blood where Hephaestus claimed me and I met my half-siblings. After that, you know the story—Jason Piper and I went on a quest to prove ourselves as three of the Prophecy of Seven by freeing Hera."
Frank nodded as if he remembered that last part.
"So in a way, we're both just a couple of orphaned kids," Frank said.
There was still no sign of Hazel. The American tourist were still milling around the Pantheon. They seemed to be circling closer like they were to sneak up on Raphael. In fact, they seem to be coming our way more exact and were glaring at me.
"Uh, Frank," I asked. "Has it been ten minutes yet?"
Frank followed my gaze. The American faces were angry and confused, like they were sleepwalking through a very annoying nightmare.
"Leo Valdez," called the guy in the ROMA shirt. His voice had changed. It was hollow and metallic. He spoke English as if it was a second language. "We meet again."
All three tourist blinked, and their eyes turned solid gold.
Frank yelped. "Eidolons!"
The Americans clenched their beefy fists. Normally, I wouldn't have worried about getting murdered by overweight guys in floppy hats, but I suspected the eidolons were dangerous even in those bodies, especially since the spirits wouldn't care whether their hosts survived or not.
"They can't fit down the hole," I said.
"Right," Frank said. "Underground is sounding really good."
He turned into a snake and slithered over the edge. I jumped in after him while the spirits began to wail above, "Valdez! Kill Valdez!"
A/N: For those who might of thought Roma was a miss spell: Roma is the Italian word/name Rome. Basically not all countries and cities are pronounce and/or spelled the same in every language. So chances were that tourist got it from a souvenir shop in Rome with the city being spelled ROMA