Percy

Nearly two hundred monsters stood in a rough circle around him, sneering, glaring. Percy felt more panic rising in him, more than he'd ever had before. He'd faced death before, but it wasn't like this. He remembered in Mount St. Helen's when he though he was going to die, but sent Annabeth away anyway. He had been okay then. Scared of course, but he had a goal. Stall them long enough for her to get away. He thought he was saving her. Now he had no one, no goal except survival, but he didn't know if he could achieve that.

An empusai stepped up, eyes glinting with evil energy. Percy turned to they were parallel to each other. His hands were hurting on the hilt of his sword. Sweat dripped down his nose, his hair became wet and stringy. It was so unbelievably hot in the room. His shirt was soaked. He watched the empusai walk closer. He stood still.

"No where to run." She purred. A string of laughs followed her statement from the group. They all clearly thought they had won. They were reveling in his fear. She walked right next to him and took one clawed finger and pushed a strand of his hair away from his eyes. He didn't move. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of flinching away. She patted his cheek, her sharp nails piercing the skin. A drop of blood mixed with the sweat and fell down.

"What shall we do with him?" They were going to kill him. Percy couldn't swallow. No, worse than kill him. They were going to torture him until he wished to be killed. His breathing was coming at uneven intervals. The empusai snapped her fingers.

"Get him." Percy prepared his stance. Luke taught him how to stand in a fight an eternity ago. He had practiced fighting with Percy, the first time Percy had won a sword fight. He could see Luke's face swimming before his vision. Scared face, shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes. They had hid so much. But before he knew that, Percy thought Luke was the coolest guy in camp. A hero, someone to aim to be.

Luke's voice was in his head. Telling him what moves to make. A cyclops was running at him, so Percy should do the low swipe with his sword as Luke taught him. An earth giant was coming from the other side, Luke told him to use the disarming strategy. On and on the monsters came, but there were so many. Every time Percy killed one, there were eight right next to him. Percy could only turn so fast, could only swing his sword so many times. There were too many. He was loosing.

A sword sliced open his jeans. Not deep enough to affect his fighting, but enough to momentarily distract him. Someone grabbed his arm. He tried to yank it free, but while doing that, someone took his sword. He punched a cyclops in the face, momentarily feeling guilty for Tyson, but then an empusai grabbed his arm. He tried kicking, but his legs were contained soon too. He was shaking with anger and adrenaline. He had to get free, but he couldn't. They pinned him against the back wall.

The first empusai walked up grinning. She had a knife in her hand. She stood inches from his face. He formed spit in his mouth and shot it at her. She wiped it off her cheek, smile not faltering. Percy's mouth was dry now.

"What should we do?" Her knife was tracing his face, the cool metal barely touching. He tried to convey how much he hated her in one look, but nothing could show that much. He refused to close his eyes. He stared her down.

"Look at all this long hair." She took a tuff from the back of his head and cut it off, skimming his ear. His ear started bleeding rather badly.

"Of course you'd want mine considering yours is so greasy." Percy should have kept his mouth shut. But, the problem was, he never knew how to. He wasn't entirely upset when her eyes flashed with anger though.

"Oh you think your so funny." She tossed the hair at his face. "Let's see how funny you are now." And she drove the knife into his exposed hand.

Oh the pain. Percy screamed out at the top of his lungs. The monsters holding him up dropped him, but he couldn't move. The knife had pinned him to the wall, driven into the concrete as well. The pain laced through his arm, no his whole body. He felt like he was being torn apart, tabbed repeatedly over and over. Was this how Annabeth felt when she took that knife for him. She always had a better tolerance for pain than him.

He was on his knees, but his arm was still sticking straight up, his hand being attached to the wall. The empusai was laughing a loud witch's laugh. She was facing all the monsters now.

"Look at the 'hero of Olympus' fallen. Oh isn't it a wonderful sight? To see him on his knees screaming in pain!" She was practically jumping with excitement. "Wow! I expected it to take more effort, but he went down quickly didn't he? First step, take out Percy Jackson, second step, win the war. We're almost there everyone! We've almost made it!"

Something stuck in Percy's brain. Win the war. They couldn't win the war. He refused to let that happen. Half blinded with pain, he looked up at his hand. It was a gruesome sight. Blood pooled out of his hand, running down his arm, staining his shirt. His fingers hung limp over the knife, he couldn't move them. He reached up with his free hand and braced himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. Then he pulled it out.

He stifled a scream, he didn't want to draw attention to himself, but it was worse. The pain was so much worse than it was before. His hand fell to the ground. None of the monsters noticed. They were captivated by the empusai's speech. He switched the knife to the other hand, and shakily stood up. His head was spinning and he felt nauseated, but he refused to sit back down. He creeped up behind her and stabbed her straight through the back.

She gasped, more out of shock than anything and fell, a pile of sand. The other's gasped and then started on him. He tried to return to his old fighting position. He raised his arm, hand unable to grip the handle of Riptide, but he raised it none the less, and attacked.

He swung his sword more and more, running between them, almost slipping on the piles of sand that littered the ground. He remembered when he had gotten out of the River Styx. He had felt unstoppable, impossibly fast and strong. A weapon of death. He felt that way now. Adrenaline took over making failure not an option. Without their leader, they seemed unorganized and panicked. Percy killed them all.

The last one was cut through like butter with a hot knife and fell dead. Percy collapsed. Shock, pain, and exhaustion all playing into it. He closed his eyes for a second and the pain consumed him. He looked at his hand again, limp on the floor. What now? He couldn't get up. He could barely move. He couldn't leave this place and walk all the way back to Dameson's hut. He couldn't even open his eyes.

A small sound brought his adrenaline back into full affect. He whipped around standing up, something he previously thought impossible. It was almost funny how much more people can do with adrenaline. He saw standing in the doorway was Claire.

She was white in the face, holding something small in her hand. She stared at all the sand surrounding Percy. Her wide fearful eyes found his.

"You killed them." She sounded unlike herself. Not that Percy really had a great grip on who Claire was. Percy studied her face. She looked torn. She didn't want any of this to happen. She was forced. Percy was sure of it.

"Claire, it's not too late to come with me. It's okay." He tried. She blinked and looked more like a seven year old girl than she ever had. She turned the thing in her hand over.

"Yes it is." She was crying.

"No please Claire." Percy tried taking a step forward, but it hurt.

"Gaea said I have to." She was sobbing.

"Have to- what?" Percy was lost.

"I'm so sorry Percy. I never wanted any of this to happen. But I have to. I'm sorry." Suddenly it hit Percy. It all came crashing down. What that thing was in her hand. Why she looked so scared. Everything she said.

"No, Claire! Wait!" He yelled and tried to run towards her, but it was too late. She clicked the button in her hand.

"I'm sorry!" She sobbed over the noise. Explosions were heard all over, and then the floor blew up. Claire exploded into dust immediately and Percy got thrown up into the air. The entire building was crumbling, so when Percy fell back down, he didn't land on the floor. He fell three stories and landed in a mess of fire and rumble.

He couldn't breath. The smoke already was chocking him. He tried to open his eyes but they burned and all he saw was a mess of gray. His whole body wretched with a cough. Everything was horrible. He groaned weakly. He didn't even have the strength to make much noise. He was feeling weaker and weaker. He was dying. He was sure of it. He suddenly started crying. It was horrible because he couldn't breath. He just laid there, dying while tears leaked from his eyes. This was the last he'd see of the world.

Through the smoke, he saw Hermes's shrine. The fire had caught in the alter. If only it had happened sooner, he could have sent a message. His head was spinning, the edges of his mind going dark. He wanted to be at the alter, something that represented the gods, when it... when it happened. He gasped pure smoke and tried to drag one arm in front of him. Like a knife going through him, he weakly yelled out in pain. His mind was fading more rapidly now, but he kept going. Kept crawling towards the shrine, towards death.

Sobbing through pain and fear, he was almost there. He could barely think anymore, body on autopilot. He felt like he was broken into a million pieces. He was next to the alter when he finally gave up. Let everything go limp and just laid there. Face down on the shards of stone and glass, he felt it cutting into his cheek, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered. He was slipping away.

One last shot of panic went through him. Could he no longer move? He wanted so badly to be able to get up and try to run out of the room, but he couldn't. All he could move was one arm. He lifted it. It would be the last movement he'd make. But he was too weak to hold it for long. It flopped down into the alter, into the fire. Percy could feel it burning, but who cared anymore.

All Percy wished was to talk to someone again. He wished it was Grover. To apologize for practically killing him because he wasn't strong enough, fast enough, smart enough. Another tear slipped off his face, and then Percy started to feel odd. His body started disappearing, floating away. His sight went away, his pain, his emotions, he was rising and drifting away from himself. He was no longer one piece. And then everything came back in a painful light and Percy knew no more.