Percy

- 2018 (cont.)

There's no rest for the wicked, so I didn't even get the grace of five seconds to catch my breath before we were pelting it down the street in pursuit of a very real and very large flying pig. To begin with, we kept pace quite well, but between glancing up at it and the obstacles that we had to contend with in the form of miles of traffic jams (as well as the fact that flying is simply faster than running), it got away from us. I cursed loudly, then ducked into the nearest tallish building and began running up the stairs.

About fifty flights later, my legs turned completely to jelly and just sort of disappeared from beneath me. I landed very heavily on both of my knees and took that as a signal from my body to take a bit of a breather. Two minutes later, I pried myself from the floor of the dingy corridor and began running again.

After two more short (and unintentional) breaks, I made it to the roof of the building, and scanned the skies for any sign of Bacon Boy, who was dive-bombing a park a couple of blocks away.

Even as I watched, the pig was struck from below by an enormous explosion, and vanished.

I hadn't realised that the Hephaestus cabin had been developing RPGs in their spare time, but hey, dead pig's a dead pig, however it was killed.

I groaned and began traipsing very slowly down the stairs, phoning the guys who were waiting on the street below (yes, I stole someone's phone. No, I don't feel bad about it). They kept me updated, but everything seemed to be pretty slow now that the pig had been obliterated (I relayed the story to them).

The mood changed very suddenly, ramping up from zero to one hundred in the space of a few seconds. While we had been simply battling a few loose ends and stragglers, now there was a drakon (whatever that was) wreaking havoc, and, having been fighting non-stop for almost a whole day, I was considering falling into the river and lying there for a few hours for a nap without being bothered.

But I knew that the already-fading ragtag group would fall apart at the seams if the only one of them who was supposedly invulnerable (and what a joke that was) couldn't continue. I would simply have to keep fighting until the war was won or I keeled over; whichever came first.

So I sheathed my sword, tightened the straps of my rifle case, and tried to not let my bone-deep exhaustion show as I vaulted the banister and parkoured (badly - I was out of practice) down the stairs to the lobby, shoving the doors open and running towards the skirmish, the loudest sound being the thundering of my combat boots and the breath sawing in my chest (anybody else who was coming to help would just have to try to keep up: I wasn't waiting).

I skidded around the corner and almost froze in horror, seeing the enormous snake-like beast coiled in the street, leaving devastation in its wake. It plunged towards an unfortunate demigod who was caught in the crossfire, and I forced myself to keep watching, even though I was too far away and knew what was going to happen, and that every life lost for us was a far more devastating blow than for them.

So I was shocked to say the least when a black-clad figure shot skywards from almost beneath the drakon's jaws, and the move was so bold, so characteristically foolish, but with the circus' dramatic flair, that I almost let myself believe that the pale-haired kid on the end of the string was my partner in crime himself.

But it couldn't be, because this was a different world, a different life, and I couldn't go back to SHIELD now even if I had wanted to.

I just needed to convince myself that it was true, or I would spend the rest of my life seeing openings and people that weren't there at all.

Anyway. The rest of my life was looking increasingly short, because, without even thinking about it, I had picked up a lump of shattered tarmac and hurled it with all my might at the ugly thing's great scaled head, and yelled like some sort of lunatic at it. My makeshift projectile bounced harmlessly off a huge crest just below its eye, but I had certainly now got its attention.

All parts of my brain seemed to shut down as I made eye contact (except for some sort of lizard instinct that was incredibly helpful in telling me 'oh SHIT'), as every fibre of my being registered that this animal was decidedly above me in the food chain.

It spun around and hissed in my direction, spitting venom towards me.

"Shit! Does anyone know how to kill this thing?"

One of the Aphrodite campers beside me nodded. "Yep, it can only be killed by a child of Ares."

I gritted my teeth. "Great, and where are said children of Ares?"

"At camp."

"So, we're fucked?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." I took two steps towards it, then leapt with all of my strength to the side as it turned way too quickly for something of its side, sizzling venom spraying in my direction.

I landed on a pile of debris (bits of car, bits of road, bits of lots of things that I didn't want to think about) and rolled, flinching as poison burned through my clothes between the cracks in my armour.

Then I heard a raucous yelling. What the fuck was that? I twisted my neck just in time to see Chiron leading a stampede of centaurs around the corner. "Did someone need back-up?"

We needed a lot more than 'back-up', unless 'back-up' consisted of twenty Ares campers and an assault helicopter, but I'd take what we could get.

The centaurs did rather a good job of attempting to tie the damn thing in knots, but they couldn't kill it either (and I was slightly concerned about their complete lack of self-preservation). We needed a child of Ares, but we didn't have one because they were stupid prima donnas who were on strike.

Then I heard the battle cry: "For Ares!"

I promptly ate my words and decided that I loved the Ares campers; they were great. Always there when we needed them to be.

And there I saw them, the entire cabin being led on by Clarisse in her familiar bright red armour, eyes blazing from beneath her helmet.

I jumped out of the way again as the now very pissed-off drakon made a swipe in my direction. Pulverised tarmac clinked off my armour, and I nearly fell flat on my back (but I didn't, as you'll be pleased to hear).

The wave of Ares kids swept towards the drakon, unheeding of the danger the creature presented. They hurled spears and drove chariots, knowing that it could now be killed. Arrows rained down from the top of a nearby building, and I comforted myself with the fact that the kid I'd thought was Clint was okay enough to still be shooting.

The chariots encircled the drakon, spears breaking against the monster's skin. The Ares campers on foot hacked at the chinks in its armour, dodging the poisonous spray from its mouth, like they'd been training their entire lives for this moment.

But as I watched, things started to take a turn for the worst. One Ares camper was snapped up in one gulp, whilst another was smacked out of her chariot by the drakon's tail, and it sprayed poison on a third, who hastily retreated as his armour started to melt.

I jumped onto the monster's back trying to distract it enough for Clarisse to give it a killing blow through one of its eyes.

"You can do it!" I yelled. "It's destined to be killed by a child of Ares."

From there I could only see her eyes through the helmet, but I knew something was wrong. Her blue eyes shone with fear. Clarisse never showed any weakness.

And she didn't have blue eyes.

"Wait!" I screamed desperate to stop whoever was impersonating Clarisse.

"Ares!" she shouted for a final time as she levelled her lance and charged at the drakon, but the monster tracked her movements too quickly and spat directly into her face.

"Shit! Shit!" I scrambled upright and ran desperately towards her, but I'd seen fatal blows before, and I knew that it was already too late, even as the threat seemed to fade into insignificance and the world slowed to a standstill, letting the tragedy play out at half speed.

Clarisse's armour fell to the ground, once a protection and now a prison, dragging the imposter with it, and on the edge of my vision I saw a flying chariot land on the corner of the street, a girl running towards us.

"No! No!"

It was Clarisse. She stumbled over to the body of our fallen comrade. "Why would you do that?" Clarisse was in tears?

Chris Rodriguez sprinted over from the chariot, lacing a somewhat comforting hand on Clarisse's shoulder.

The drakon roared again, tugging everyone's attention away from the body on the floor.

Clarisse wiped her face and grimaced. "You want death?" she screamed. I'll show you death!"

She snatched a fallen spear from the ground and ran towards the animal. Her rage and raw, untamed grief was so palpable that I was almost surprised that the ground wasn't cracking beneath her feet. She leapt at it, even as the creature snarled and coiled, ready for a killing blow that it would never land as she thrust the electric spear into its eye so far that it almost completely disappeared.

Clarisse landed and rolled as the drakon writhed behind her in the throes of death, before vanishing into a puff of golden dust. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if they were tricking me, because I thought that I could see the faintest of red glows fading from around her, the air crackling with electric power.

But even as her rage had appeared, it vanished again like smoke on the wind, and she fell to her knees next to the dying girl on the street, and removed the remains of her helmet with a reverence and care I didn't know she possessed.

I rushed over to find out who had sacrificed themselves for our cause, and there I was, looking down into the dying face of Silena Beauregard, tears tracking silently down her ravaged face.

She reached up a little towards Clarisse, whose hand shot out to take her hand, only to pause when Silena opened her palm to reveal a charm bracelet with a tiny scythe charm on it - Kronos' symbol.

Silena, seemingly the hero of the hour, was the traitor that Camp had been searching for for months.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "He told me that it would mean Beckendorf didn't die in vain, that all demigods could-"

"It's okay," Clarisse murmured with uncharacteristic gentleness. "It doesn't matter. Why, Silena? You knew that you couldn't kill it."

Silena gave a tiny, sad smile. "They follow you. Ares had to be here or everyone would have died, so you had to be here. It didn't matter if it wasn't really you."

Anger and anguish flashed across Clarisse's face. "And none of you realised that she looked absolutely nothing like me?" she shouted in the general direction of the Ares campers, who sort of shuffled sheepishly and gained interest in the cracked pavement.

Silena coughed one more time. "Sorry."

Clarisse cradled her gently. "You're not gonna die. You're not gonna die."

Silena slumped in her arms, and for the first time since the beginning of history, Clarisse La Rue allowed herself to sob.

The rest of us stood in the swirling silence, on edge, ready to defend against a non-existent threat, as the world cracked and burned around us, the ghostly city our stage, us merely tragic players.

Annabeth leaned forward to close Silena's eyes. "We have to fight. We have to honour her."

Clarisse wiped a stream of snot from her nose. "She was a hero, understand? A hero."

o0O0o

I would love to say that I drove Kronos' army away from the Empire State Building all by myself, but in reality Clarisse did all the work, her grief and anger turning her into a veritable whirlwind as she dealt death left, right and centre. The same ethereal scarlet glow seemed to swirl around her, but I didn't mention it until someone else brought it up, reverently whispering about the blessing of Ares.

"I've never seen it before. I'd even doubted whether it was truly real."

Clarisse drove up and down Fifth Avenue, daring the dracanae surrounding her to launch their javelins at her.

The weapons came in their volleys, and all bounced off; Clarisse was as invincible as Achilles at the moment, and nothing was going to stop her from protecting the entrance to the Empire State Building as we tended to our wounded in the lobby, as, even with the help of the Ares cabin, we were forced back by the endless hordes.

Zoe stood by the door that led out to the street. "The hunters and I will stand guard. You go and finish this."

The doorman had disappeared from his desk in the lobby, clearly having decided that it was safer to keep the entrance unmanned than to stay down there and risk death. His book was face down on the desk, and his chair was empty. However, the rest of the lobby was packed full of satyrs and demigods, all desperately seeking out Apollo campers with ambrosia and nectar.

I locked eyes with Travis and Conner Stoll and met them by the elevator, along with Annabeth, who was still a little pale but on her feet, and Grover, who was shuffling nervously and fiddling with his panpipes, but had a determined set to his jaw.

Connor's hands drummed against his legs. "Is it true about Silena?"

Annabeth nodded. "She died a hero."

Travis shifted, hands behind his back like a naughty schoolboy being scolded by the headmaster. "I also heard-"

"That's it," I insisted, twirling Riptide idly between my fingers. "End of story."

"Right." Travis fell silent for a second. "The Titans are going to have some issues getting up the elevator. They'll have to go a few at a time."

"That's our biggest advantage." I nodded. "Is there anyway of disabling the elevator?"

Connor winced. "The doorman's vanished, which means that the defences are crumbling; anyone can just go straight up."

The tactical part of my brain whirred, but despite all my attempts at lateral thinking (I failed the class), it only came up with one possible outcome.

"I think we might need some reinforcements."

Connor wrinkled his nose. "There are no reinforcements."

I nodded, suspicions confirmed. "There's no way we can defend it here. We're going to have to fight them up there." I pointed vaguely with my magic pen at the elevator doors. "Wait, where's Nico?"

Annabeth furrowed her brow. "He's in the Underworld with his father; Hades has already lost one child; he doesn't want to lose another. Besides, Hades could survive this is he just rolls over for Kronos: he only wants the gods who are actually allowed on Olympus."

I didn't really want to know what that meant on a day that might be my last.

I caught sight of the Hellhound outside - Mrs O'Leary. "Hellhounds can freely travel to the Underworld, right?"

"Yes?"

"Mrs O'Leary!" I called, waiting for the huge dog to bound over to me. "I know you're tired, but I have one big favour to ask you."

I whispered in her ear as the other four looked on at me in confusion. She shadow-travelled away, and I brushed my hands on my knees.

"Right. Time to head to Olympus."

We kitted up; Annabeth grabbed an extra knife, and I hoarded a handful more of those handy Celestial Bronze bullets, not that a rifle would be useful at close quarters at all (except as a blunt-force object).

"Ready?" I asked.

"Ready."

We trooped into the elevator with a sense of finality. This was it: if we failed, then Olympus would fall and Kronos would kill all the gods and then probably all of us, which wouldn't be ideal.

I turned around, back to the wall of the elevator, and even as I pressed the button for the 600th floor, a commotion bubbled outside. I slammed my hand on the 'open doors' button without even thinking about it, poised to spring out and join the scrap if necessary.

It wasn't necessary, because I knew the person skidding around the corner into the lobby, bow across his back, eyes wild. I knew the standard-issue workout clothes that he was wearing, and I knew which size he took in the standard Kevlar gear.

But knowing him didn't change the fact that Clint Barton was 100% mortal, and that the last scraps of power swirling around the Empire State meant that he couldn't force his way past the desk, try as he might, held back by an invisible barrier.

And I wanted to run to him. I wanted to so bad. I wanted to jump out of the elevator right there and then, and find him a first aid kit for the shallow head wound that was still dribbling blood down the side of his face, and give him a hug and apologise above all else for abandoning him when we could have, should have worked my powers out together. But the entire fate of the world was at stake, and this wasn't his fight.

So it was with a heavy heart that I released the button, and let the elevator doors slide closed, even as I could see him throwing demigods off him and pressing against the barrier, again and again, and shouting "Percy!" as the top of his lungs.

Just as the door slid shut, we made eye contact and I winced, trying to convey as much emotion as I could into that millisecond.

Fuck.

I let my head slam backwards against the wall, and put a hand to my head in shame and frustration as horrible, tinny music played through the speakers, as we rose above New York towards the end of the world.

Happy Brexit Day.