A/N: I do not own the Percy Jackson series Kane Chronicles or The Stand Cut or Uncut version. I have however posted 'The Tales of...' series. This story takes place after The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Crown of Ptolemy but before the events of Trials of Apollo. Before reading this I suggest to read if you haven't yet:

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
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Mark of Athena
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The House of Hades
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Blood of Olympus
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Son of Sobek
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Staff of Serapis
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Crown of Ptolemy

Also I'm going to let this out. On rough decisions based on what I know from The Stand, any mystical creatures Monsters, and automatons that are usually associated which characters from The Tales of and/or Percy Jackson won't be in this story

Also there's no character list for the stand, but if I had too pick two from the book it be Stu Redman and Fran Goldsmith as a pairing, and if I was allowed to add a fifth character to show, it would be of course Mother Abigail.

For the list of pairings which would be spoiler alert for those showing up later:

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase
Leo Valdez/Calypso
Jason Grace/Piper McLean
Frank Zhang/Hazel Levesque
Stu Redman/Fran Goldsmith
Larry Underwood (no relations to Grover obviously)/Lucy Swan

Other Important Characters

Mother Abigail
Nick Andros
Tom Collins
Glen
Ralph
Trashcan Man
Susan Stern
a few more demigods as extra characters to help out.

Antagonist but still important
Randal Flagg
Harold Lauder
Nadine Cross
Lloyd

And of course the two main forces that are mention but more of Lead Supporting Roles without actually making a character appearance: God and Devil

Also if you see '-' after a letter and there's a space before the next word, that me censoring a curse word.

Now, since at this point the Heroes of Olympus were introduced and paired up with key characters of the "Stand" when Captain Trips hit (at least those that aren't among the antagonist), I decided to include chapters more focus on chapters with the main characters of the "Stand" without the demigods. The reason being is that I would have to anyways with Lloyd and Flagg since they an important antagonist character. So if those chapters are too much like the original, apologize in advance.

Lastly (for now), I am aware of the 2020-2021 version of the mini-series of the Stand and I did try to watch the first part, but frankly I couldn't even finish watching the first part and didn't dare to watch the rest of it nor do I planned to. I don't like it. I don't like many of the changes they made since the 90s adaptation. But there are a few changes in the 2020-2021 adaptations that actually involved info from the books the Stand. May I remind you this crossover involved the UNCUT VERSION of the books, so if you see parts that seem to come from 2020-2021 adaptation, it's because those parts/info actually came from the book itself

Is Larry Underwood a Good Man?

Larry woke up with a hangover that was not too bad, a mouth that tasted as if a baby dragon had used it for a potty chair, and a feeling that he was somewhere he should not be.

The bed was a single, but there were two pillows on it. He could smell frying bacon. He sat up, looked out the window at another gray New York day, and his first thought was that they had done something horrible to Berkeley overnight: turned it dirty and sooty, had aged it. Then last night began coming back and he realized he was looking at Fordham, not Berkeley. He was in a second-floor flat on Tremont Avenue, close to the Concourse, and his mother was going to wonder where he had been last night. Had he called her, given her any kind of excuse, no matter how thin?

He swung his legs out of bed and found a crumpled pack of Winstons with one crazy cigarette left in it. He lit it with a green plastic Bic lighter. It tasted like dead h-. Out in the kitchen the sound of frying bacon went on, like radio static.

The girl's name was Maria and she had said she was a … what? Oral hygienist, was that it? Larry did not know how much she knew about hygiene, but he remembered other things involving oral. Crosby, Stills, and Nash on the little stereo in the living room, singing about how much water had gone underneath the bridge, time we had wasted on the way. If his memory was correct, Maria sure had not wasted much time. She had been a little overwhelmed to discover he was that Larry Underwood. At one point, he think they even went out for an open record store so they could buy a copy of "Baby, Can You Dig Your Man?"

He groaned very softly and tried to retrace yesterday from its innocuous beginnings to frantic gobbling finale.

The Yankees were not in town, he remembered that. He was hoping they were when he came to town. His mother had been gone to work when he woke up, but she had left a Yankees schedule on the kitchen table along with a note: "Larry. As you can see, the Yankees will not be back until July 1. They are playing a double header the 4th of July. If you are not doing anything that day, why not take your mom to the ballpark. I will buy the beer and hotdogs. There are eggs and sausage in the fridge or sweet rolls in the breadbox if you like them better. Take care of yourself kiddo." There was a typical Alice Underwood PS: "Most of the kids you hung around with are gone now and good riddance to that bunch of hoods, but I think Buddy Marx is working at that print shop on Stricker Avenue."

Just thinking of that note was enough to make him wince. No "Dear" before his name. No "Love" before her signature. She did not believe in phony stuff. The real stuff was in the refrigerator. Sometime while he had been sleeping off his drive across America, she had gone out and stocked up on everything in the world that he liked. Her memory was so perfect it was frightening. A Daisy canned ham. Two pounds of real butter—how could she afford that on her salary? Two six-packs of Coke. Deli sausages. A roast of beef already marinating in Alice's secret sauce, the contents of which she refused to divulge even to her son, and a gallon of Baskin-Robbins Peach Delight ice cream in the freezer. Along with a Sara Lee cheesecake. The kind with strawberries on top.

There were of course some vegetarian friendly food that Larry guessed were for Piper in case she and Jason came over too. Larry did not complained about the two. He liked them the moment he met them. He could tell they were not the type of people that would use his mother's kindness to their advantage. Mainly because his mother could sniff that kind of people out the moment, she sees them (he should know, he befriended people like that even before he moved to LA.) Besides if his mother like them enough to let them come by occasionally and cook them some food, Larry was not in any position to argue against it.

On impulse, he had gone into the bathroom, not just to take care of business, but to check the medicine cabinet. A brand new Pepsodent toothbrush was hanging in the old holder, where all his childhood toothbrushes had hung, one after another. There was a package of disposable razors in the cabinet, a can of Barbasol shave cream, even a bottle of Old Spice cologne. Not fancy, she would have said—Larry could hear her—but smelly enough, for the money.

He had stood looking at these things, then had taken the new tube of toothpaste out and held it in his hand. No "Dear," no "Love, Mom." Just a new toothbrush, new tube of toothpaste, new bottle of cologne. Sometimes, he thought, real love is silent as well as blind. He began brushing his teeth, wondering if there might not be a new song in that someplace.

The oral hygienist came in, wearing a pink nylon half-slip and nothing else. "Hi, Larry," she said. She was short, pretty in a vague Sandra Dee sort of way, and her breasts pointed at him perkily without a sign of a sag. What was the old joke? That is right, Loot—she had a pair of 38s and a real gun. Ha-ha, very funny. He had come three thousand miles to spend the night being eaten alive by Sandra Dee.

"Hi," he said, and got up. He was naked but his clothes were at the foot of his bed. He began to put them on.

"I've got a robe you can wear if you want to. We're having kippers and bacon."

Kippers and bacon? His stomach began to shrivel and fold in on itself.

"No, honey, I've got to run. Someone I've got to see."

"Oh hey, you can't just run out on me like that—"

"Really, it's important."

"Well, I'm important, too!" She was becoming strident. It hurt Larry's head. For no reason, he thought of Fred Flintstone bellowing WIIILMAAA!" at the top of his cartoon lungs.

"Your Bronx is showing, luv," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She planted her hands on her hips, the greasy spatula sticking out of one closed fist like a steel flower. He stepped into his pants and button them. "So, I am from the Bronx, does that make me black? What have you got against the Bronx? What are you, racist?"

"Nothing and I don't think so," he said, and walked over to her in his bare feet. "Listen, the somebody I have to meet is my mother. I just got into town two days ago and I didn't call her last night or anything… did I?" he added hopefully.

"You didn't call anybody," she said sullenly. "I just bet it's your mother."

He walked back to the bed and stuck his feet in his loafers. "It is. Really. She works in the Chemical Bank Building. She is a housekeeper. Well, these days I guess she's a floor supervisor."

"I bet you aren't the Larry Underwood that has that record, either."

"You believe what you want. I have to run."

"You cheap prick!" she flashed at him. "What am I supposed to do with all the stuff I cooked?"

"Throw it out the window?" he suggested.

She uttered a high squawk of anger and hurled the spatula at him. On any other day of his life, he thought it would miss. Only this day was the exception as the spatula flip flop, up and over, smash, right into Larry's forehead. It did not hurt much. Then he saw two drops of blood fall on the throw-rug as he bent over to pick the spatula up.

He advanced two steps with the spatula in his hand. "I ought to paddle you with this!" he shouted at her.

"Sure," she said, cringing back and starting to cry. "Why not? Big star. F- and run. I thought you were a nice guy. You ain't no nice guy." Several tears ran down her cheeks, dropped from her jaw, and plopped onto her upper chest.

"I have to go," he said after watching just where the tear was going. His white cloth jacket was on the foot of the bed. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.

"You ain't no nice guy!" she cried at him as he went into the living room. "I only went with you because I thought you were a nice guy!"

As he passed the living room, he found copies of 'Baby Can You Dig Your Man?' mocking him as though saying he does not have to say sorry.

She stood in the bedroom doorway, still crying, pathetic in her half-slip. He could see a nick on one of her shins where she had cut herself shaving.

"Listen, give me a call," she said. "I ain't mad."

He should have said, "Sure," and that would have been the end of it. Instead, he heard his mouth utter a crazy laugh and then, "Your kippers are burning."

She screamed at him and started across the room, only to trip over a throw pillow on the floor and go sprawling. One of her arms knocked over a half empty bottle of milk and rocked the empty bottle of Scotch standing next to it. Larry hoped they were not mixing those last night.

He got out quickly and pounded down the stairs. As he went down the last six steps to the front door, he heard her in the upstairs hall, yelling down: "You ain't no nice guy! You ain't no—"

He slammed the door behind him, and misty, humid warmth washed over him, carrying the aroma of spring trees and automobile exhaust. It was perfume after the smell of frying grease and stale cigarette smoke. He still had the crazy cigarette, now burn down to the filter, and he threw it into the gutter and took a deep breath of fresh air. Wonderful to be out of that place. Return with us not to those wonderful days of normalcy as we—

Above and behind him a window went up with a rattling bang and he knew what was coming next.

"I hope you rot!" she screamed down at him. The Complete Bronx Fishwife. "I hope you fall in front of some subway train! You ain't no singer! You are s- in bed! You louse! Pound this up your a-! Take this to ya mother, you l-!"

The milk bottle came zipping down from her second-floor bedroom window. Larry ducked. It went off in the gutter like a bomb, spraying the street with glass fragments. The Scotch bottle came next, twirling end over end, to crash at his feet. Her aim was terrifying. He did not even think it was possible for someone like her to have good aim. He broke into a run, holding one arm over his head. This madness was never going to end.

From behind him came a final long braying cry, triumphant with juicy Bronx intonation of curse words. Then he was around the corner and on the expressway overpass, leaning over, laughing with a shaky intensity that was hysteria, watching the cars pass bellow.

"Couldn't you have handle that better?" he said, unaware he was speaking aloud. "Oh man, you coulda done better than that. That was a bad scene. C- on that, man." He realized he was speaking aloud, and another burst of laughter escaped him. He suddenly felt a dizzy, spinning nausea in his stomach and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. A memory circuit in the Department of Masochism clicked open and he heard Wayne Stukey saying. There is something in you that is like biting on tinfoil.

He was not the only one. He talked a bit to Piper and Jason yesterday and found Piper had been kicked out of several schools before meeting Jason. She had a history of getting in trouble with schools and the laws. She just had that thing too. Jason not so much, but Larry got the feeling that was because he got an early start in learning discipline, otherwise he might be the same. Maybe if Piper had been older and not dating Jason, Larry might have asked her out. But Larry knew better than to date someone underage.

Larry doubt even Piper would treat someone like he treated that girl—an old w- on the morning after the frat house gangbang. Just something about Piper seemed against it.

You ain't no nice guy.

I am. I am.

But when the people at the big party protested his decision to cut them off, he had threatened to call the police and he had meant it. Hadn't he? Yes. Yes, he had. Most of them were strangers, true, he could care if they c- on a landmine, but four or five of the protestors had gone back to the old days. And Wayne Stukey, that b-, standing in the doorway with his arms folded like a hanging judge on the big day.

Sal Doria going out, saying: If this is what it does to guys like you, Larry. I wish you were still playing sessions.

He opened his eyes and turned away from the overpass, looking for a cab. Oh sure. The outrage friend bit. If Sal was such a big friend, what was he doing there sucking him off in the first place? I was stupid and nobody likes to see a stupid guy wise up. That is the real story.

You ain't no nice guy.

"I am a nice guy," he said sulkily. "And whose business is it, anyway?"

A cab was coming, and Larry flagged it. It hesitated a moment before pulling up to the curb, and Larry remembered the blood on his forehead. He opened the back door and climbed in before the guy could change his mind.

"Manhattan. The Chemical Bank Building on Park," he said.

The cab pulled into traffic. "You got a cut on your forehead guy," the cabbie said.

"A girl threw a spatula at me," Larry said absently.

The cabbie offered him a strange false smile of commiseration and drove on, leaving Larry to settle back and try to imagine how he was going to explain his night out to his mother.

Little did he know, his mother's two often visitors were just asking themselves if he truly was a good guy themselves.

A/N: I came to realize Randall Flagg has appeared in 'The Eyes of the Dragon" and "Dark Tower" series as the main antagonist. I might include dream visions for the demigods involving "The Eyes of the Dragon" involving Flagg when I get the book (fortunately the "Stand" is a long book so I have plenty of time to start and finish 'The Eyes of the Dragon" before reaching the point when the confrontation with Flagg happens). But from what I can tell with Dark Tower series, Dark Tower possibly took place after the Stand as it's at some point in the series Flagg finally meet his demise. So I won't include Dream Visions involving the Dark Tower series. Besides, that's eight books and one movie to buy and I don't have the money right now to get all eight books (even ebooks), the movie (as the movie is the sequel to the eighth book from what I understand) and 'The Eyes of the Dragon' in one purchase.