A/N: This one's gone up a little ahead of schedule, mainly in celebration! Yep, that's right, a historical landmark - 100 reviews! I cannot express how stoked I am, so thank you thank you thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. It really tickles me pink to read such wonderful words from readers, especially the likes of Written Parody, my one hundredth reviewer!

This one is split into seven parts, each one hundred words. It's based on lyrics from the song Must Get Out by Maroon 5, a wonderful source of inspiration. This follows our seven heroes through the day, and I really hope you guys like it. I do.

Once again, thank you for the amazing reviews. One hundred! I can't believe it!

This one's for you, Written Parody.

Must Get Out

This city's made us crazy
And we must get out

Summer mornings in New Olympia were red skies and sea breeze.

As per usual, Jay was not looking out his window at the spectacular morning. Instead, the young Greek descendant was seated at his desk, pouring over an ageing Ancient Greek manuscript.

The document highlighted the battle between his ancestor and the dragon guarding the Golden Fleece. To anyone else, the old script would have been tiresome and difficult to read, but Jay loved the Greek poetry.

The morning continued to flow; the red sun ebbed its way across the sky, and a young Greek descendant barely noticed its presence.

Mid mornings in New Olympia were the smell of breakfast and a glass of orange juice.

Herry was the first to rise that morning. He stumbled into the kitchen with practised precision. He tumbled into a seat near the kitchen bench, and was rewarded to a plate of eggs and bacon, curtesy of Athena.

The goddess smiled at the hungry teen, watching as he eagerly shovelled the food into his mouth. Of all the descendants, Herry was her favourite – though she'd never say.

She poured him a glass of orange juice, and continued to cook for the ever-hungry boy.

Midday in New Olympia was bright yellow sunshine and the comfort of relaxation.

Neil sighed with the utter most contentment as he sipped a glass of lemonade on the Brownstone's roof terrace. Saturdays such as these were one of the few times he could really relax – every other weekend they were chasing down some monster or doing homework. Today, however, Cronus was mercifully nowhere to be seen, and the constant flow of homework had mysteriously ceased.

In other words, the day was just about perfect.

Neil smiled, and continued to soak the wonderful yellow rays of the midday sun.

Early afternoons in New Olympia were green grass and emerald leaves of the park.

Peaceful, tranquil and serene were not often words associated with Atlanta; she even protested the use of 'chilled' to describe her. Atlanta's life was spent between periods of irritation and anger. Occasionally, she wasn't – hence, an afternoon at her favourite spot at the park.

Lying on shaded grass, she could pretend she was away from the city. She could be calm, cool, collected Atlanta, not the feisty, irritable, energetic heroine she had to be away from the comfort of the green tranquillity of the grass.

Late afternoons in New Olympia were blue screens of doom and mouse clicks.

Odie typed furiously across the keyboard, his fingers flying. Fiddling with technology was a serious business, a practise perfected by only the best. To some, technology was just a simpler way to life. To Odie, his gadgets were living, breathing creatures, and when one of them got hurt, he would comfort them like a friend.

Currently, Hermes' laptop was stuck on a blue screen, the computer equivalent of an infection. It was up to him to be the doctor, to fix up his sick patient, his friend.

Evenings in New Olympia were quiet embraces in indigo moonlight.

Theresa sat on her bed, her knees drawn up to her chin. The window was open, and a warm summer breeze drifted through her room. Indigo light spilled through, illuminating the walls in a soft, purple glow.

There was a knock on the door, and a tousle haired Jay strode through. He didn't speak as he crossed the floor, slumping beside her. With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder, then jumping at the sound of his beeping PMR.

The time they had together was never quite enough.

Nights in New Olympia were locked doors and bottles of violet hair dye.

Archie gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, feeling somewhat sheepish. The bottle of hair dye glared viciously at him, mocking him from the windowsill.

His hair was due for another redye, the black roots were starting to show, but he often wondered how the team might react if he went back to his natural colour. Violet made him look tougher; it had a sense of streetwise edginess. Black was boring and vulnerable.

He grabbed the bottle of violet hair dye and headed for the shower.