A Message From Mann Co. Books:
Dear readers, we apologize for the long delay in this chapter's release. Our ownership dispute with Saxton Hale has prevented us from publishing additional ones. A recent resolve has allowed us to momentarily continue letting you take pleasure in our products. Enjoy the last part of this thrilling saga.
[THIS BATTLE IS NOT OVER YET, YOU THIEVING BASTARDS!]
"That is a completely horrible plan." Annabeth decided.
"I know!" Saxton confirmed, walking at a brisk pace.
"There is a very low chance you actually manage to get out of there…" Grover murmured.
"Tell me about it!" Saxton quickly checked his reflection in a nearby window. A minor stubble was growing on his cheeks. Troublesome, it would ruin his perfect mustache if left unchecked.
"You could probably die horribly inside there." Percy ruled.
"What's the point of life if not for spitting in Death's face?" Saxton adjusted his hat, fastened his belt buckle and made sure his shoe laces are tied. No one should look better than yourself at your own funeral.
They finally arrived at the entrance of DOA Recording Studios. Saxton rubbed his hands in anticipation and looked at the trio's faces to reassure them. "No worries. I cut my way out of primate hell. You can be damn sure I just as well can punch my way out of the evolved primate hell."
Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Fine. It's your choice." She pointed at the Studio's glass. "But you stick to our plan first. No violence at all until we finish our steps. Can you do that?"
"Hmph." You could see the disappointment in Saxton's fingers. "As much as it causes me a great deal of displeasure, I'll toe the line."
"Thank you." She turned to her two companions. "So… we remember the plan?"
Saxton let them have their short confidence-boosting group talk. He was busy peeking through the window, analyzing the beings inside. The ghostly people shouldn't be a problem, they looked as dead as a customer who wasn't 100% satisfied with Mann Co.'s product line. The security guard at the desk, now he looked like a tough guy. Too bad Saxton couldn't just hop inside and beat him up on the spot.
"Okay, we're ready. Hale, let's go." Percy got his attention and opened the doors. They looked around the lobby, then headed towards the reception desk. Saxton patted Percy's back and let him do the talking. He studied his speech similar to a detective in a murder scene (which was very apt considering the existence of the Mann Co. Investigative Division): Percy misspelled the guard's name. An honest mistake for a dyslexic juvenile, but a bad first impression. At least he obediently corrected himself and added a "sir" to his sentence. Being reminded he's supposed to be dead confused him, turned to Annabeth for help. She did her part. Now comes the cover story.
"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed, and then turned his suspicious eyes to Saxton. "And how are you related to-"
"Why, I'm the proud father who drowned 'em!" Saxton put his hands on his hips. "Poetic, isn't it? Got 'em born, got 'em dead!"
"Really." Charon raised his eyebrow, slightly taken aback by his upbeat response. Even the group gave Saxton disturbed looks.
"Oh yeah, pushed their lil' heads right in the water 'til they stopped kicking their lil' legs." Saxton pushed his hands downwards to demonstrate. "Then carked it myself. Clean and simple, to keep those caskets open."
Grover's face wore a tinge of green. Annabeth's expression was full of disgust. Percy coughed in discomfort. But Charon just shrugged after taking a few seconds to process the cheery Australian's words. "Fine. Well, I imagine none of you exactly have coins to pay me. Perhaps you, the adult, has a credit card to split the payment across them?"
"Ah, no, there's a reason why I taught these… My children proper financial responsibility." Saxton patted Percy's back to distract him from his disturbance.
"Oh, oh, right, we do have coins." Percy shook his head and put four drachmas on the desk.
"Well, now…" Charon seemingly forgot from their strange behavior upon seeing the shiny discs. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in…" His hands hovered above the coins. A grin started to creep onto Saxton's lips at the sight of another successful deal.
But then Charon looked at Percy, and Saxton spotted the all-too-familiar look of a client who just read the fine print. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?" Saxton bit his lip. He knew that misspelling would haunt them. Bad first impressions are fatal with the wrong kind of buyer.
"No. I'm dead." Percy said.
Charon leaned forward and sniffed them. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're godlings." He then turned to Saxton and sniffed at his direction too. "And you…" His suspicious face turned angry. "You're worse. You're a mortal human." His voice was dripping with hatred.
Saxton shrugged innocently. "Ya got me. I'd never harm a hair on a child's head."
Percy distracted Charon before Saxton could upset him any more than he already is. "We have to get to the Underworld."
That didn't help. Charon started making a deep growling sound. The ghosts around the room looked visibly disturbed. Saxton grinned, opening and closing his fingers in anticipation.
"Leave while you can." Charon said. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you." He reached for the coins, but Percy snatched them from the table, much to Saxton's satisfaction.
"No service, no tip." Percy insisted. His voice was quivering a little too much, but it was a good response. Naturally, it made Charon angrier. His growl became deeper, the spirits in the lobby now getting panicked. Saxton clutched his fist. Maybe he's going to get a good fight with this guy after all.
"It's a shame, too." Percy sighed. "We had more to offer." He held up the entire bag they looted from Crusty's stash. Saxton's eyes were wide open as he looked at Percy taking a handful of drachmas and made them spill through his fingers.
Charon softened his growl. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh… Just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?" The classic shine of greed in Charon's eyes warmed Saxton's heart. He listened in awe as Percy spoke like a master trader, slowly calming Charon down. Candidly talking about his poor work life. Convincing him of a better quality of living with each coin he pulled out of the sack, and finally finishing it off with something every worker wants to hear.
"I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades." Percy suggested, stacking the last few coins on the tower he made.
Charon sighed. "The boat's almost full anyway. I might as well add you three and be off." He looked up to stare at Saxton with contempt. "But you're staying here, mortal. They paid enough to get a free passage, you'll…" He went silent as Saxton pulled out his own small bag of drachmas, courtesy of Chiron's personal gift when he left the camp. "…need a lot more than that to convince me."
"Well, mate, let's start with this as an appetizer, eh?" Saxton simpered warmly, immediately pouring the bag's contents to the table, tactically keeping it visibly separate from Percy's, yet still close enough to associate them with his'. "Those kids paid their fair share to get inside your little club. And I'm going to give you an offer you can't refuse."
Charon crossed his hands, his expression now changing to a more patient, if annoyed one. "Speak."
Saxton held his fingers together. "Look, we're here because we want to make a deal." He gestured at the coins. "We're here because long term relationships matter to us." He gestured at Charon, who looked mildly surprised at the statement.
"They do?" He asked.
"Oh, of course." Saxton leaned inward. "We're here because we want to have a great long-term relationship." He pointed at himself, then at Charon. "We'd love for our partners, in this case you and me, to prosper from doing business with us."
"I'm not sure I understand…" Charon straightened his sunglasses.
"Look, do you know the F-Word?" Saxton put his hand on the table, as if talking to a bartender. "Some even call it the F-Bomb." The kids cringed at the thought of another swear coming. "Fair. The concept of it is fundamental to all of us intelligent beings, and especially to a wage-labor guardian like you." Saxton spoke lightly, yet honestly, like Charon was his good friend that he was giving advice to. "Which is why it's my intention to treat you fairly. If at any point in time I was unfair to you, let me know. We'll go back and address it and fix it."
"Just get to the point." Charon grunted.
Saxton felt good. The first stage was complete, he cooled down Charon's anger completely. Now comes the heart-to-heart part.
"Point is, I know how you feel mate. See, I'm a boss of a company, and I know all kinds of employee complaints. Your types, though, they're the most justified." Saxton raised his hat, showing his friendly eyes. "You're the kind of hard-working man that truly deserves a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. In your world where interns can be inhumed and replaced, you provide an essential service to society. "
Charon looked proud of himself, yet still looked wary. "You're right. That I do. But how do you matter in this?"
"See, because the problem is that you're not treated like you should be. You work your arse off, trimming off human surplus, doing a civil service to everyone… and for what? Bloody peanuts, I bet. I don't even need to see your wardrobe to know that your suit collection is remarkably lower than it should be."
Charon nodded. "Okay. Yeah, you're right. What can I do about it?"
"This is exactly the part where I come in." Saxton patted his chest. "I already told you I'm a boss. I know all about employees coming to me and asking for whatever benefits they want. I know every argument, every request, every suggestion. And most importantly, I knew the ones that actually worked on me. You let me in the Underworld, I won't just ask Hades to raise your wage. I'll guarantee it. And I'll look into improving your work conditions as a whole, too." Saxton's Australian accent and demeanor was practically gone now, replaced with an all-business attitude.
Charon was basically captivated at this point. "You have a sharp tongue, mortal. I find you oddly convincing. You can get on the boat with the rest of them, but don't forget about what you said if you actually reach Hades alive, and stay alive long enough to bargain for your life with him."
Saxton made an OK sign. "No worries. A Saxton Promise's the best you're gonna get in this world."
Charon muttered. "Well, if you die anyway, it will at least be worth the entertainment value. Get in the elevator with the rest of the godlings, before I change my mind."
Saxton bobbed his head in respect and followed suit. As he got in the elevator, a hundred ideas raced through his mind. He leaned his back against the elevator, squashing a few unfortunate ghosts. He was about to commit to some intense urban-type warfare. His tactics would be simple, yet as effective as they always were:
1. Beat the crap out of the Underworld's skeleton army.
2. Beat the crap out of the Underworld's guard dog.
3. Beat the crap out of the Underworld's godly ruler.
"Haha, yes. That's a good plan!" Saxton said out loud.
Everyone on the elevator-now-boat ceased their conversation and turned their heads to him. "Who are you talking to?" Percy asked, raising his eyebrow.
"I'll raise a better question me boy, why are we suddenly on a tinny?" Saxton countered Percy, pointing his finger at him.
"A tinny?"
Annabeth giggled slightly. "I think he's referring to the boat we're in. And he'd know the answer to that if he wasn't so focused in his own thoughts."
Grover smiled. "Yeah, you're uh… leaning on nothing right now."
Saxton glimpsed behind him. Where there used to be an elevator wall was now a dark, oily river. How much did he miss? "Bugger."
"We are here." Charon announced, turning to Percy. "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here." Saxton tactically jumped off the boat, scanning his surroundings. "And you, mortal, I'm expecting my bigger paycheck. Or an amusing death."
"First things on my checklist, mate." Saxton saluted him off.
The trio disembarked the boat. "Hale, are you going to wait for us or…" Percy ate Saxton's dust before he could complete his sentence. "...Go right ahead." The boy scoffed, and the three followed casually after the speedy Australasian.
Saxton soon reached a safe vantage point, and good thing it was, because Hell's security were no slackers. Rows upon rows of ghoulish guards escorting and transferring ghosts to their final judgement, all through a modern-tech security system. Saxton rubbed his knuckles, ready for a fight, before turning his head to the footsteps of his fellow group behind him.
"Alright, Hale. What's your plan?" Annabeth asked, looking over at the sight.
"Simple, lass. I go in there. I beat them to a fate worse than minimum wage with none less than my bare hands. And you just sneak your lil' birdie legs right by 'em." Saxton raised his thumb, expecting an approving applause.
Instead, Annabeth grimaced. "That is a completely horrible plan."
"Sheila, ya already said it. But you're right." Saxton suddenly put his hand to his ear, listening to a spine-chilling howl ripping through the air. "I got a dog's bone to pick instead!"
Annabeth's face faltered. She only managed to yell, "Wait! Don't!", before Saxton dashed away again in the direction of the sound. The group all looked at each other, shocked.
Grover started to mumble. "We… we… forgot to make him promise not to fight Cerb-"
"No!" Annabeth reached in her bag. "We can still stop him. My plan can work!" She took out a red rubber ball and ran after Saxton, her friends frantically joining her.
Meanwhile, Saxton already got face to face with the world's greatest hellhound. A triple-headed rottweiler with double the size of an African elephant, it would present one of, if not the best trophies Saxton would hunt to date. He couldn't help but make a child-like grin. "Ohhh, I'm gonna make mutt chops out of ya..."
Cerberus growled and bared its fangs. Saxton raised his fists and cracked his knuckles. The battle of the ages was about to start… only to be prematurely end by Chekov's red ball bouncing on the ground in front of them.
"Hwoo?" The hellhound tilted its heads in curiosity.
"What the…" Saxton looked back just in time to see Annabeth sprinting ahead of him and snatching the ball from the ground.
"HEYYY! SEE THE BALL? YOU WANT THE BALL, CERBERUS?" Annabeth shouted, as enthusiastically as a girl who just finished a sprint could. "SIT!"
Saxton blinked. "Chase, what the hell-" She shot him a glare so fierce it shut him up instantly, just as Olivia Mann did when she took on the Mann Co. Challenge. That fateful day taught Saxton to be cautious of intelligent young ladies.
Annabeth immediately turned back to Cerberus and repeated the command. "Sit!" To the group's amazement, Cerberus abided. "Good boy!" She said, smiling.
Saxton leaned down to Percy's and Grover's level, holding their shoulders, and started whispering. "Alright lads, while she pulls up a distraction, here's how ya fight big fellas like these: Think about us like mozzies and that mongrel like a rocket launcher. It only takes one good shot for to hit us, but it has to hit us first. All about the speed here, right? So-"
"Go now. EZ DEATH line – it's faster." Annabeth interrupted. She already threw the ball while Saxton was scheming, and got Cerberus to stand on all fours, allowing for a passage to the aforementioned location.
"But…" Percy said.
"Now!"
Saxton decided it's best to get it over quickly, and strode as fast as he could under Cerberus' legs, begrudgingly forcing himself not to get an easy punch on the dog's belly. He reached the other side and waited for his companions to arrive, carefully watching over all them, just in case Cerberus decided to become a bad boy. Much to his displeasure, Annabeth completed the diversion and the group was soon together. "That mutt's lucky he's not euthanized." He stated.
[This part is really bloody emotional, with Annabeth crying over that stupid dog which was LUCKY NOT TO HAVE ITS THREE HEADS MOUNTED ON MY OFFICE WALLS but you're not reading this story to hear about little girls whining about dogs, are you dear readers? YOU'RE HERE TO READ ABOUT ME, KICKING ASS, LIKE I ALWAYS DO, AND LEGALLY SHOULD IN ALL MY LICENSED COPIES, so keep reading for the actually (and only) exciting part of this story!]
"Let's go." Annabeth said, with sadness in her voice.
"Plenty more dogs in the sea, Chase." Saxton tried to comfort her. "And I'm not talking about the sailors!" He added as they passed through the security gate. Even if she wanted to answer him, the alarms that went off and the red lights that blared made her forget about that remark. "Blimey! Those bastards nabbed us! You kids run; I'll take care of Hell's toy cops!" Saxton yelled to his group, and as always, before anyone had a second to argue, he ran towards the group of security ghouls, fully intent on fighting every last one of them.
When fighting, Saxton Hale always preferred his enemy to be of quality over quantity. But he couldn't deny the occasional guilty pleasure of mowing down scores of weak creatures. His experience of destroying robots alongside Margaret proved that.
"C'mon then, let's 'ave it!" While running, he twisted his body into a wheel shape and rolled on the ground until he hit the mass of the rushing security ghouls like a ball.
ZOMBIE BOWLING!
Much to his pleasure, they were very much corporeal, and their bodies went flying into the air. He jumped on his feet and started punching away at the crowd of angry demons around him with reckless abandon. Here, he didn't need no tactics, no strategy, no martial arts. He used every part of his body to fight the ghouls, slicing them with his arms, crushing them with his legs, smashing them with his torso, headbutting them with his… well, head. He became a whirlwind of violence, sucking in the hordes of undead guardians that were sent to kill him and pounding them into dust. But he knew even him wouldn't last forever.
SEVERAL MINUTES OF ZOMBIE SLAYING LATER…
Saxton grabbed one ghoul by the leg and started swinging him around, swiping away a bunch of attackers back into the crowd they came from. After creating an ancient alien crop circle, he had had a few seconds to finally see what he was dealing with. The dozens of ghouls that he fought in the beginning became hundreds. They were all armed with various weapons, both modern and ancient. They all wanted him dead. He looked around. At this point, he led them far away enough from the trio that they shouldn't worry now. At any other day, Saxton would stay in this place and fight these monsters forever, until they ran out or he died of exhaustion. But this wasn't any other day. Saxton came here with a purpose. And it wasn't to waste away killing rotten sacks of bones for the rest of this day. He had to come up with a better plan.
CUNNING BRUTALITY
Saxton started fighting the ghouls again, but this time he didn't let their bodies go to waste. Each one he killed, he threw into a specific spot on the ground. Within a minute, there was a pile of them stacked on each other, forming a small hill: A vantage point. He climbed on their corpses to the top and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a never-ending wheat field, filled with ghostly humans and an increasingly larger army of ghouls. To his left, a rocky path that led of a cracked wasteland filled with barbed wire, lava, and landmines. A lovely place to have a party in, but this wasn't the right time. To his right, a valley leading to a gated community surrounded by walls. Judging by the place's glow and beautiful buildings, it could serve a great vacation spot, if he wasn't currently working. Ahead of him, much further than both areas, the shadow of a castle. Hades' palace. Was it a good idea to bust down his door, with his own army chasing him? His thoughts were cut short by the mass of ghouls climbing on top of his morbid hill, swinging their swords and spears in an attempt to hit him. He spotted some of the ghouls who were armed with firearms take aim – he wasn't a bullet dodger, and with this many gunpowder-powered weapons pointing at him, they were very unlikely to miss. Saxton made a decision and jumped forward, landing on the ground, and gracefully tactically retreating.
NOT RUNNING AWAY!
The mob shouted in rage and followed him, hot on his heels. He ran faster than them, dodging the many melee weapons and arrows that were thrown at him and occasionally looking behind him to evade the aim of those toting guns. Out of the corner of his right eye, he spotted the sign of a slope appearing on the terrain. He wasn't sure why, but something about it called out for him. He changed his plan and ran towards it instead, the downward incline helping him get extra speed. After some time, he realized he was running in a tunnel. But something felt strange here – it was devoid of dead trees or grass, unusually cold, and the place has a foul stench to it. Was this a dead end? Saxton squinted his eyes to see better, only to widen them when he realized where he ran off into. The tunnel widened into a cavern, and in the middle of it was a huge hole, way too big for him to jump over. "Think, Saxton, think!" he said to himself, still running. Was this where he'll make his final stand? No. He wasn't going to die in the Underworld's arsehole. But what was the other option?
Saxton suddenly remembered how his father, Bilious Hale, would mine rocks with his very own fists. One of Saxton's greatest regrets in life was that he never became as strong as his father. He trained himself for years, but never managed to come even close to what his dad did. But he never stopped trying, and towards the end of his days in his world, he started learning how to do it in relatively small amounts. Could he do this here? He had no idea if Hell's stones are the same as his world's, or even this one's... It was worth a shot.
Saxton reached the end of the pit and looked behind him. A vast army of darkness was charging him, their rage making them ready to throw themselves into the hole with him if they have to. "Gimme a hug!" He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. A second before the sharp ends of their weapons touched him, he threw his body back and fell down the hole.
A massive clump of undead warriors followed him, hundreds of ghouls screeching as they dropped into the empty abyss of death. But none of them would find him down there waiting for him. Instead, he turned his body as soon as he could. Now facing the wall of the chasm, he grabbed it and held onto it with all four of his limbs. His sturdy boots and tough nails kept him locked on the rock's surface like he was a cat. He looked behind him and watched his pursuers falling into their demise. It only took a short while for the bodies to stop appearing, and eventually the cavern went silent, apart for the sound of the whisper-like wind.
Wait, it wasn't wind. Saxton tilted his head to listen. It was in fact a whisper, a deep, mysterious voice coming from bellow him, speaking in some ancient language. Saxton wasn't going to stick around for a chat with whoever that was, and even if he wanted to, his nails and boots started breaking apart. He looked up and took a deep breath. Time to prove himself to his late father.
EXTREMELY MANLY FREE SOLO!
He began excreting a great deal of force on the rock he was holding. "GrrrrrrAHHH!" He roared as his fingers slightly buried into the surface, creating an actual cranny to hold on to. He repeated this with his other hand. Then another one. And another one. Slowly, but surely, he was carving himself an in-built ladder to climb up with, groaning throughout all the way. The voice became louder, signaling him there wasn't enough time to keep going like this. Looking up and determining the edge was close enough now, he held two nooks and flipped his body upwards, sending him close enough to grab the top to grab the ledge, his upper body now seeing Terra Firma. But then, a cold blast of wind suddenly pulled him downwards. "NO YOU DON'T!" Saxton screamed, burying his hand in the ground. With all his strength and shear willpower, he kept climbing and reached the solid, flat ground. There he kept crawling on the ground, resisting the pit's suctioning. His palm was a bloody mess by now, so instead, he used his fists. Punching the ground like a pickaxe and digging them into the ground, just enough for him to keep moving out of the tunnel. As he got further away from the hole, the sucking force became weaker, and he could finally stand up and run out of the exit back to the Fields of Asphodel. The wind died, letting him know he's out of harm's way, and a wail of fury told him his opponent was very unhappy he got away. "Get stuffed, wanker!" Saxton shouted back. He held his knees and panted, sweat covering his entire body. After getting his breath back, he looked at his hands. It was an ugly sight, with all the skin torn off, the flesh exposed, the bones broken beyond recognition and the blood dripping on the ground. It was a miracle he made it out before his hands were grounded into mincemeat. He could only hope they'll heal back to normal. But for the near future, they're not going to be functional for anything important anytime soon. All the fighting opened his prior wounds too, and there were bruises and cuts all over his body from the half-naked rock climbing he just did. He sighed. His father probably could have done all of this without injury. But this was a good start. If he will live to fight another day, this world will surely turn him into Bilious' pride.
He looked up at the palace in front of him. One of his earlier foes, the Furies, were watching him from above. If he will live.
He walked forward.
Saxton stepped through the palace's gates. The place was naturally beautiful, with some inviting tourist destinations like a garden full of suspiciously good smelling fruits. But he wasn't here for sightseeing. At least, not when there were armed skeleton soldiers standing guard at every corner, staring at him with their hollow eye sockets. He inferred that they were here to accompany him, rather than fight him. Still, he had to resist the temptation not to turn them all to bone meal. His forearms may have had their veins exposed, but it didn't stop him from wanting to use them on someone. He reached the secondary gate and it opened wide for him. Saxton inhaled and walked inside. He shook off his serious expression, put on his classic smile, and tipped his hat. "G'day!" he said cheerily to the Lord of Death.
The latter wasn't amused. "Mortal. You dare come to me after all that you have done. You defeated my Furies. You bribed my ferryman. You were ready to fight my dog. You slayed many of my ghouls, while evading a fall to Tartarus, of which you climbed out of." He spoke. Saxton could hear immense, imminent anger in Hades' voice. Something clearly happened recently to make him upset. "You come to me in a time where the Son of Poseidon has escaped my grasp, and my armies stand ready to wage war on the surface world." The god crossed his fingers together. "Give me one good reason not to vaporize you where you stand."
Saxton spread his hands. "Well, you haven't done it yet, did ya?"
Hades' eyes began to glow. "My patience is extremely thin, mortal. You're only alive right now because I wish to be amused by how you intend to 'punch your way' out of here."
"Hah, alright-alright, keep ya shirt on. You might be down under, but you ain't from Down Under! That punch thing was just an Aussie expression, my good lord! It simply means to get a sweet outcome out of a bargain with someone. In my Australia, at least." That term was, of course, non-existent, but that is just the many advantages of being a foreigner: Everybody believes what you say about your culture. Saxton wagered he could say his world's Australians are fish people who live in the ocean and the god would still believe him. "I'm here to offer ya a deal!"
"You wish to negotiate with me?!" The god's voice bellowed across the hall.
"In a manner of speaking. I know what you're thinking: Negotiation is about being the biggest bastard in the room, that it's who's the loudest, who's the most aggressive, who takes the most at the other person's expense. Folks think 'I win' equals 'you lose', and therefore I 'beat you'. That is far from it! Great negotiation is the basis for a great collaboration. It's about a few blokes faced with different aspects of the same problem. My enemy is not the person across the table; in this case, you. My enemy are the circumstances. Someone like you is a counterpart that's struggling with some aspect of the same problem that I am! I work with you and solve that problem together, and we're both better off." Saxton exhaled.
"What can someone like you possibly offer me, then?" Hades asked. Saxton's explanation seemed to calm a tiny portion of his anger.
"Well, I can always offer you these guns…" Saxton chuckled, flexing his muscles. "…But you have no shortage of them down here." He gestured towards the skeletons. "No, what I can really offer you… is experience."
"Experience?" Hades said, his contempt so intense that it was almost radiating off of him.
"Mate, I mean, my lord…" Even with his life on the balance, old habits die hard. "You're about to go into one of the biggest wars in history. I know war. Right? I fund wars. I know how they look, how they operate, how they work. And the worst thing about war is logistics." Saxton turned and pointed outside. "You're going to kill a big number of humans out there. They're going to need a place to go." He pointed up, then swirled his finger down. "Right here. You're going to need help housing all of them. And I just might know a trick or hundred about dealing with lots of dead bodies."
Hades put his hand on his chin. "Even though you are otherworldly, I can indeed sense it. You have killed many creatures back in your world. It will be nothing next to the billions that will die in the following hours. How could you, a measly human, help me manage it?"
Saxton's smile warmed. "I assure ya, I spent a good bloody time with kill-happy dictators. Tends to happen when you're trafficking every item under the sun. I know every one of their dirty lil' methods to get rid of a large number of corpses. For your bloodbath, it just takes a bit of scaling up to estimate what we're gonna need. I'm not fit to give any visitors here a tour guide, but I did get a good look on this place while I was, eh, killing your diggers. Speaking of, sorry about them." Saxton bowed in apology.
"Yes, thank you for reminding me one of the reasons I should smite you."
Saxton cleared his throat. "But that reason is a problem of yours now, is it not? You're lacking a few quality security ghouls to process all these bodies coming through soon. You're gonna need to run this ship a whole lot tighter. And allow me to make a wild guess and say you don't like your hands filled, right? War is necessary, but all the bodies it brings are a lotta hassle. Ya gotta need to draw up plans for how you're going to manage all your soldiers, your employees, your infrastructure, your land, bloody everything!" He pointed at himself. "And that's where I come in. I'm a Chief Executive Officer of the most prosperous damn company in my world. I'm a dinkum micromanager, ey? My liege, I promise, you let me help plan how to handle this situation of yours right now, and I'll deliver the goods."
It was hard to read Hades' face, but it almost looked thoughtful. "I see… and what would you ask in return?"
"Well, if ya think I did a good job, I would like to go back up, where the sun does shine." Saxton shrugged. "But obviously, your mileage may vary."
"You would want to be sent back to Earth? Which I will be destroying?"
"That's a bit of a bleak outlook, don't ya think? The world will fall on hard times, yes, but it can be healed." He grinned. "And if it won't, there will still be things for me to fight."
Hades looked at him, contemplating the offer. Saxton crossed his arms and waited for an answer patiently. Even if that answer is the ground opening up and crushing him, nobody can say he didn't try. After a few excruciatingly long minutes, the god gave his verdict.
"Very well, mortal. You have certainly piqued my interest about what your capabilities may entail. I will allow to live in exchange for helping me, and if I determine that you were of use to my needs, I may grant you your wish." Hades got up from his throne. "But hear this. The moment I find you worthless, as I predict will occur, you will be dealt with instantaneously."
"A fair deal if ever heard one, my good sir!" Saxton gave a bleeding thumbs up.
"For a human such as you, it is. Now, my time is short, and the task is great. Prove your usefulness."
"With pleasure."
[Dear reader, I'll make the right choice for you this time and skip ahead. This part of the story goes on for another four pages, and if you were one of my investors, you would really be interested! But you're the casual observer, and you're not here to read about my deviously genius mind explaining to the god of death how to properly handle the genocide he's about to commit (in the most boring, exhausting, watching-paint-dry way possible)! If you skipped the pages I recommended to skip in Bidwell's Big Plan, you know well enough to have these skipped for you!]
The entire planning phase took maybe a one or two hours, at most. However, Saxton was giving his A-Game during them. Most of the work he did so far was acting as pure muscle, with the occasional use of his intellect. Right now, he was using 100% of his brain. Every minute was spent precisely explaining to Hades the most efficient solution to process, store, and handle all the souls that will be passing through his kingdom soon. The god's disgust towards him turned into mild interest as Saxton showed his devilish ingenuity beyond reasonable doubt. Indeed, if any sane person were to listen, he'd recommend the Australian be sent to an insane asylum for eternity. Saxton know his time was short, so he couldn't miss a beat in his words. Not a single wrong suggestion, not one unhelpful advice. He spoke like he was pitching the world's greatest idea to the United Nations, while they were aiming their nuclear weapons at him. There wasn't shade of insincerity, fear, or doubt in his voice, while he talked of the best ways one could commit omnicide and not worry about the mess it'll create. He was squeezing every single bit of charisma out of his juicy mind.
But sadly, all good things have to come to an end. Hades' personal minions, the Furies, came back from wherever they went to, and they were carrying a strange ancient helmet Saxton never seen before. "Ah, my Helm of Darkness, finally." Hades said with satisfaction, taking it from the main Fury's hands. "You were instructed to find Percy Jackson again and retrieve it. Tell me, how did that occur?"
"My lord. It appears that the Half-Blood was not the one at fault for the theft, in the end. It was actually Ares. We do not know yet if he was the one who stole it originally, or had a servant who did it for him, but it is certain the boy was not at fault. In addition, he has asked you to call off the war." The Fury answered.
"Intriguing. I will ask you for the full story later. Now that my possession has been returned to me, I can halt this war." Hades said, inspecting his helmet. "And I suppose I can think about releasing the boy's mother, as well." His eyes darted to Saxton, who was waiting patiently. "But you, mortal…"
"As narky as I am about a war being prevented, this doesn't mean my work here has to be done, your highness." Saxton said suggestively.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, for starters, you have this plan we worked on together, for whenever the day will come…" Saxton had to think fast. He thought he did a good job, but if Hades decided it was unsatisfactory, it would all go down the drain. "But until then, for when business keep on going like usual, you're gonna need a more generalized arrangement!"
"Explain yourself."
"Have you looked at the state of this place? I don't mean to insult ya, but you're clearly struggling to keep it in shape. Looks like a bloody dog's breakfast! Can I speak candidly? Boss to boss? You're in too much stress. You can't keep on going like this. Give me however long amount of time you want to give you suggestions, adjustments, et cetera, and I'll help you get this hellhole in proper order." He coughed. "I'm not saying that you're bad at running this place, or demanding that you reshape it in my dashing image, of course. Just offering a helping hand. Figuratively, not the ones that are currently bleeding."
Hades looked at Saxton curiously. "You are a very strange human being. Mere moments ago, I was considering turning you into dust, as you haven't done nearly enough to earn my mercy. Now…" He put his hand on his hip, and his expression looked truly thoughtful now. If Saxton Hale was a coward, he'd be sweating in fear, but the only liquids dripping down from his body were his own blood. "You said 'however long amount of time'?"
"Yes, indeed, you can keep me in eternity for all I care, but you got my Australian-only assurance that I'll spit out everything I need to in less than that."
"Certainly, the thought of keeping you in my company forever disgusts me. Nevertheless, after hearing what you said in your first plan…" You could tell was still disgruntled, but even he had to admit the truth. "I believe you proved yourself fit to continue advising me. Speak, then."
[I swear, these parts are worse than litigation! You know, once I get my legal hands on this story, these sections will be replaced with pure EXPLOSITION®. There will be a massive battle between me and that old crook while I explain to him why extra lanes do not necessarily make for faster traffic and he asks me why. But until then, I will not allow my loyal readers to subject themselves to such boredom! So I skipped it again!]
"…And that's all there is to it!" Saxton concluded, his vocal cords overworked more than they ever had any right to be. He stopped counting the hours a long time ago. He stopped counting how much blood was dripping out of his many untreated injuries. Perhaps he was close to a full liter. The floor was littered with various pages, diagrams, schematics and all manners of technical documents that Hades produced for him to help explaining his points throughout his speech (the situation was so dire, he didn't even sign any of them). He was starting to wonder if Hades killed him a long time ago and this was his punishment – turning into one his directors at a board meeting, eternally explaining something to his boss who'd rather murder things instead.
But instead, Hades nodded. "You seem to know many things, mortal. You are, undoubtedly, one of the most revolting humans that I have ever had to listen to. Truthfully, I would rather execute you anyway and keep what you said in mind…" Hades took a few seconds to think about that option. "…But I unfortunately cannot deny that all you said resonated with me. Dare I say, you might even have sounded rather convincing. Only a silver-tongue such as yours could seriously suggest something like raising Charon's pay, and make me think it could be a good idea." Hades sighed. "It is with great disappointment that I must admit you were useful. The Underworld may very well be operated more expeditiously with the advices you provided."
"Don't forget more profitably, too!"
"Do not remind me of your insatiable greed any more than I already heard of." Hades grunted. He looked at Saxton with a puzzling expression, perhaps disappointed he has not killed him yet. "There is no two ways about it, then. You have fulfilled your purpose. Since I am a fair god, I will honor my part of the deal." Hades gestured with his hand. "Begone now, Saxton Hale. Pray you do not cross through my kingdom again." Saxton respectfully bowed.
"It was my pleasure working with you. Call me again if you need more tips!"
Saxton could almost spot a sneer crawling into Hades' lips before he was teleported away. He could feel his physical body turned into nothing and his being flying upwards through the ground. It was too late to think about that now, but he realized he never asked for a specific location from Hades. For all that god could care, he will reincorporate in the bottom of the ocean, or inside an active volcano.
Luckily, Saxton landed in a slightly worse location. He felt his body manifest again, and to his relief he heard the heartwarming noise pollution of the big city. He opened his eyes, and he was staring at rows of parked cars, with dozens of bystanders staring at him in awe, a concrete jungle towering behind them. "'Ello!" He waved to them. Most of his blood clotted, so his hand looked like it was covered by a grisly red glove now.
"NYPD! FREEZE!" A shout heard behind him, and he turned around. G17s, AR15s, MP5s, M590A1s and various other alphabetical letters attached to numbers that he usually sold were now pointed at him by a plethora of very serious police officers. Saxton sniggered. Teleporting him in front of a police station was a very funny joke.
"Keep your panties on, I won't run." Saxton raised his hands and got on his knees. He was already familiar with this procedure. Bidwell can't always produce a fitting alibi in time, so sometimes it would be a better option to get caught and put in jail until the correct strings would be pulled. The fact that there wasn't any Bidwell in this universe didn't bother his optimistic attitude.
After a few hours in the station's holding cell, he was brought out for an interrogation. Since all their handcuffs were too small, they had to bind his limbs in ropes they had laying around. "G'day, Jack!" He said to the interrogator. As expected, a federal criminal such as him got a federal agent to interrogate him.
"My name isn't Jack." The suited man said, flashing his FBI badge which Saxton didn't bother to read.
"I know."
The interrogator frowned and cleared his throat. "Well, uh, mister… can you tell me your name? We heard many different versions of what it may be."
"Sorry, mate, but I'm not telling anything without my lawyer."
"Who's your lawyer?"
"I'm not telling that either."
The interrogator sighed. "Sir, you are not considered a fugitive right now. We found the children you were kidnapped with."
Saxton exhaled in genuine relief. "Oh, thank God those kiddos are safe!"
"Yes, we released them a while ago. You however, is still a person of interest in this whole investigation. We have many conflicting reports of your actions. Seems no one can accurately say what they really saw you doing." The interrogator looked over Saxton's body. "Can I first ask why don't you want real medical attention for your injuries? They are serious, and could get infected."
Saxton lightly shook his head. "The only thing that'll get infected is my reputation if I don't clear it up with you right now."
The interrogator raised an eyebrow. "Your… reputation? We have no idea who you are. For a lack of a better word, you simply do not exist. Even the government of Australia does not have records of your citizenship."
"Details, details! Do you want to hear my side of the story or not?"
"Sure, go ahead."
Saxton's Dilemma now changed into a Prisoner's Dilemma. He had no idea what Percy and co. said to the police. He barely understood how the Mist works on other people. But there is one thing he knew perfectly: Cover stories. He started explaining to the interrogator how he was an innocent bystander that tried to save the three kids and got kidnapped alongside them by the mysterious man. All the many cases of property damage that occurred were simply intense and violent altercations between the kidnapper and Saxton, who managed to escape his grasp and heroically attempt to save the kids. He would casually ask the interrogator questions, inquiring details about the trio's version of the story. When the latter was reluctant to say, or Saxton felt he was lying, he would keep prodding in from another direction. This wasn't Saxton's first rodeo with the law, and it certainly won't be the last. In his world, he was such a known suspect, the police required far more work to convince. Often, cases would have gotten to courts, and matters would be settled with lawyers. Here was a place to open a brand-new page. The police knew nothing about who he was, and as such he could do all the tricks the books. In this room, there was no "inconsistencies" in his story. They were easily explainable mistakes, memory problems, human errors. He made sure to give little to no details about his personal identity, only focusing on the story. His gaslighting slowly took effect on the interrogator. When he finished his dramatic tale, the officer looked even more confused than before.
"This is… a very interesting version of the events." The interrogator said, scratching his head. "I'll need to crosscheck it with the other versions we have. All the available witnesses to your actions can't give us a straight answer. Some think they saw you committing felonies, some think they agree you were a victim who tried to help. Those boys and girl said you're completely clean of guilt but… I need to see what to make of this." He stared at the documents strewn across the table. "We will have to keep holding you in custody, I'm afraid. There will be further interrogations in the future for you. Until we can fully understand what's going on, you're still considered a-" a knock on the door interrupted him. "Excuse me."
"Take your time, mate. I understand, I have a problem remembering all the details right. Ugh, these wounds are so painful, I just can't think straight!" Saxton gave him a smug look as he left the room.
A few minutes passed. Saxton used this time to think of his story again. What parts could he correct? What should he omit? How much more should he add? All these questions became unnecessary when the interrogator entered the room again and said, "OK, everything you said seems to be in order. You're free to go."
"I am?" Saxton asked. This was never that easy. "I mean, of course I am innocent! I didn't haul my ass across the country, forced by that madman, only to be called the villain in this story!" He complained triumphantly.
"Your charges were dropped, sir. We will expunge your criminal record to clear you of any wrongdoing. The media will want to interview-"
A familiar voice chimed in. "There is no need to, agent. The bureau's statement is sufficient for our tastes. My client will want to return to his home now, undisturbed."
Saxton's smile widened. "If it isn't my best four-legged lawyer!"
Chiron smiled back. "Still making jokes about my wheelchair, are you?"
"Always!" Saxton shook his hand, ignoring his exposed nerves protesting in pain.
"Come now, there is much for us to discuss on the way back." Chiron moved his wheelchair and Saxton followed him outside the station to the waiting car, lowering his hat to hide his face from the curious press cameras. He entered the vehicle and greeted his all-seeing driver. "How the hell are ya?" Argus nodded friendlily in response and started driving.
"Well, Mr. Hale…" Chiron began speaking.
"'Mr. Hale' is what my employees call me. Someone who just saved my hide from approximately 12 months of trials, litigations and court hearings can use my first name."
"All right then. Saxton, you would probably like to know how were you released so fast."
"Took the words right out of my mouth, mate. Those must've been some fat stacks you gave those jackboots!"
"None at all. You remember how the Mist works, do you?"
"Just enough to use it as an alibi."
"Yes, well, the Mist is very complex in the way it works. For someone who understands it, it can be a powerful tool to get oneself out of trouble. It can be used to manipulate people."
Saxton's face soured. "You mean you mind controlled everyone in that cop shop to think I'm guilt-free?"
"I assume you're upset because of your disdain to magic?"
"Obviously! I thought I managed to easily wrap these pigs around my little finger, and here you tell me it was all smoke and mirrors?"
"That 'smoke and mirrors' convinced those officers better than any excuse you could give them, I assure you." Chiron argued. "By controlling the Mist, I made them understand that your version of the story was perfectly consistent with Percy's, Grover's and Annabeth's. Once the Federal Bureau of Investigations releases our interpretation of the events to the mass media, I am certain that your very serious crimes will become nothing more than rumors."
"Hmph. Takes 20 years to build a reputation and 5 minutes to ruin it."
"You have been on this Earth for a few months at most. The public will eventually forget about you, just like they will forget about Percy and his deeds."
"About that…"
Chiron sighed. "What is it?"
"I had to hitch a ride with some taxi drivers, and didn't have any cash to pay them. Promised them I would pay extra, especially if they kept their mouths shut. If there's one crime in the world I can't be caught doing, it's fare evasion!"
"I see. Do you know how to contact-"
"Yep!" Saxton pulled out the two business cards he took from the cab drivers and handed them to Chiron. He did everything in his power to keep them secure throughout his journey, even if it meant storing them in some… unsavory locations. "I'd write them down if I were you." He added.
"Good, I'd prefer not to know what's the reason for their odor." Chiron scribbled the numbers on a note. "We will first investigate if they adhered to not reporting you to the police, and then make the necessary transactions. This will become a part of your debt, however."
"You can count on me."
"Excellent, now, to the important part of the discussion…" Chiron took a deep breath. "Do you know anything about what happened since you were left in the Underworld?"
"Not a clue."
Chiron proceeded to tell him all the events that unfolded while Hale was in Hell. After he finished, Saxton sat silent for a minute, resting his hands in front of his stomach. "So Percy fought Ares… and won."
"Correct."
"Crikey!" Saxton slapped his thigh. "That makes me bloody jelly in that boy! Now I'm just sad I didn't get see that. Or kick his ass myself."
"What is done is done."
"I know… damn!"
Chiron chuckled at the mix of altruistic pride and personal disappointment he heard in Saxton's voice. "We're here." He said, looking out of the window at the sight of Half-Blood Hill.
"I'll have to ask him about that. And his trip to Olympus, too. And his time seeing his mum again. Say, ya think he'll let me strangle that deadbeat dad of his?"
Chiron murmured distastefully. "Already eager to return to a life of violent crime?"
"Let's call it frontier justice."
"I rather not. Discuss anything you wish to know with him, anyway." Chiron felt safe to get out of his wheelchair and transform to his centaur form. "Is there anything else you want to know about what transpired since you left?"
"I've been spoon-fed enough exposition for today, thanks."
"I'll take that as a 'no', then. Which leads me to ask about you." Chiron's face darkened. "I'll be earnest, Mr. Hale… we all thought you were dead. Percy told me that you told them your plan was to 'punch your way' out of the Underworld. Forgive me for the disbelief, but that is simply not possible, not with everything in there wanting to kill you. So please tell me the full story of how you cheated death."
"Yes, I said what I said to Jackson because I didn't want to scare him with a bunch of big words." Saxton laid his back on the car. "The full story, eh? Well, let's start with saying I 'cheated death' is a touch vulgar… How about you call it making a deal with the devil?"
Saxton went on to tell everything that happened once he got separated from the gang. From his fight with the army of security ghouls, to his ploy of causing them all to fall to Tartarus, to his feat of climbing out of Tartarus by literally punching himself a ladder into the rocks and culminating in his long, long, long negotiations with Hades. "…Which means that if that much time have passed, I haven't slept in a few good days, which would be a reasonable cause for the layman to collapse on the ground and faint right now…" Saxton raised his head in pride and crossed his arms. "…But not for this Aussie!"
Chiron's calm expression was now filled with admiration. "Everything you're telling me is highly impressive. I almost can't believe it, but the fact you're still alive speaks for itself. Few mortal humans have visited the Underworld and came back alive throughout all of history."
"I told that boy that I'd go through hell and back for him, and that was fair dinkum through and through!"
"Indubitably." Chiron agreed. "You have been with us for a relatively short amount of time, Saxton Hale. I admit, I hesitated strongly about letting you join us. It was a tough decision recommending you to Mr. D. But you have proved beyond any reasonable doubt that you are worthy of our respect."
"Aw, save the wheedling, bud. It was a piece of piss."
Chiron glared at him in a scolding manner. "You still need to work on your profanity and manners. As I understand it, your mouth has been far from clean throughout this adventure."
"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink!"
Chiron closed his eyes, remembering how unbearable it is to argue with Saxton. "I think you need a rest. I have no idea how are you still standing awake after all you've been through, but you must be exhausted."
"Pal, whatever dictionary you own, you better find that word and literally tear it out, 'cause it offends me you think I recognize it!"
Chiron didn't even say anything this time. He just stared Saxton down. "Fine, I wouldn't say no to nap and some Band-Aids." Saxton admitted. "But it doesn't mean I can't keep fighting!"
"I'm sure it doesn't. Come, let us walk to the infirmary. Your body is damaged beyond recognition. On the way there, I will want to ask about how efficient is your exposure to this 'Australium' is at mending wounds, because many of them seem severe."
"No problem, mate! I'll tell ya all about it."
Within an hour or so, Saxton's body was treated by the camps best doctors. He had all matters of medicine applied to his body – from bandages to ointments to pills, every speck on his physique was taken care of. After careful deliberations, they even agreed to give him miniscule amounts of nectar and ambrosia.
"OH! YES!" Saxton got up and thumped his chest. "I LOVE THAT BURNING FEELING!"
Chiron shook his head. "I still firmly oppose giving you these, but I recognize your situation is dire. Now, you must get some rest. I will announce to the rest of the campers that you are safe and sound, and once you completely recover, then you will be allowed to go back outside." He gave Saxton a stern look. "Am I clear?"
"As day."
For once, Saxton Hale listened to an advice someone gave him. As soon as he arrived at his quarters, he crashed into his bed, destroying it, and fell asleep instantly. And what a glorious rest it was! It lasted for an entire week, and throughout it he slept for over a dozen hours at a time, intermittingly waking up to eat a healthy, balanced meal of the day and do some light exercises. As everyone knows, he couldn't keep himself spoiled forever. At the seventh and final day, Saxton checked out his injuries one last time. Deeming them "good enough", he kicked open the door, breaking the hinges, and marched outside while whistling. He walked over to the Big House's porch and waved to Chiron. "Strewth, is it already beer o'clock?"
Chiron lowered the book he was reading. "You're intelligent enough to remember our alcohol policy."
"'Course I am, it's the dreariest bloody thing about this place." Saxton sat next to him. "Right! I'm feeling up to snuff. Enough rottin' away in that room. What have ya got for me?"
"Got for you?"
"Y'know, something new. Monsters to mutilate? Heroes to help? Adventures to accomplish?"
Chiron chuckled. "Nothing for now, Saxton. I appreciate your audacious spirit, but for now, the problems we had were solved." Chiron raised the book. "If you do want do something worthwhile, go greet all the campers. They were very happy to hear you were still alive. Your companions were particularly elated. When you're done…" He flipped a page. "We will have a celebration for you in the evening. And after that…" He raised his head to look at Saxton directly. "You can go back to being one of our chief counselors, with all your usual duties. Unless, of course, you'd rather live a normal life in the mortal world. It would be a smart idea, in my opinion."
Saxton laughed at the suggestion. "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna run right out and buy a condo, get a mortgage, 401(k). Then fold that over into an IRA and a CD…"
"At least the Underworld didn't damage your cynicism."
"Nothing will! But thanks for the good jokes." Saxton raised a thumb up and jumped off the railing.
"I'm starting to regret allowing him into the Camp." Dionysus said, entering the porch.
"Why? He has done exceptionally well in this journey." Chiron replied.
"He drew copious amounts of attention to himself, and by extension, his group. He was a liability."
"Regardless, he kept them all safe and survived. Though he did require effort to save him in the end, that wasn't his direct fault."
"Hrmph." Mr. D's face soured like wine. "You know what's the worst thing about him?"
"What?"
"That spell he casted on himself long ago, to protect himself from the Rule of Three… it actually worked. I hoped it would last for only this quest, but I still feel the same powerful magical energy emanating from him. Whatever that spell was, it was effective, which means he's going to ask to join more quest in the future."
"Given his track record, I have no concerns about that."
"Is that a gamble?"
"Depends. Would you like to wager it over a game of Pinochle?"
Saxton was afraid he'd have to meet and greet every camper personally. Luckily, as soon as news of his recovery spread, a crowd quickly began to form around him. Many faces which once looked at him in suspicion or contempt, would now be gleaming with smiles and cheers. The whole thing completely astounded him. These kids thought he was an old hermit mere months ago. Now they treated him like a movie star. But before he could sit down and send them into a question-answering thrill ride, he had three very important people to greet first. "YOU!" He pointed into the crowd. They parted to reveal Percy Jackson with a wide smile on his face. Saxton stomped over to face him, fists balled, and looked down at him with a gruff face for a few seconds.
"Is everything alright, Hale?" Percy asked, starting to get nervous at Saxton's silence.
"First! I had enough of this formal nonsense. You and I are on a first name basis from now, Jackson." Saxton raised his finger.
"Oookay?"
"Good. Second!" Saxton opened his palm and raised held it up high. "Gimme a high five!"
"What?"
"Damn it son, I invented the bloody thing, I charged people money to learn how to do it, and right now I am offering you one completely free! The last thing you'll do in your miserable life is leaving me hanging!"
"Okay, okay!" Percy raised his hand and high-fived Saxton.
"That's my boy!" Saxton's face brightened again. "Now, who's ready to find Grover and Annabeth?"
"Right behind you."
Saxton turned around to see Annabeth removing her hat. "Aw, you finally pulled a sneaky one on me! Knew I should have practiced more against blokes with invis-watches back home."
"Maybe you should have. I heard you outsmarted the Lord of Death himself." She crossed her hands.
"Yes, and?"
"Mayyybe you could admit what I said is true? 'Even strength has to bow down to wisdom sometimes'?"
Saxton frowned. "That wasn't wisdom! It was my great personal charm."
"Whatever you say to convince yourself. What matters is that it got you out of the Underworld."
"Meh, I could have fought my way out too." He waved his hand derisively. "I got more important things to worry about now! Like Grover!" He reached his hand and plucked him out of a mass of campers.
"Ow! Watch the nape!" The satyr protested.
"There's my favorite goat-boy!" Saxton gave him a platonic side hug.
"You're crushing me…" Grover groaned.
"Sorry! Keep forgetting you lot are made of Play-Doh." Saxton let go. "Well now! If you joeys wanna hear what I've been through, you better calm your farm."
Saxton sat down and started telling everyone what he'd been through since he left the trio fend for themselves. Some may say he was embellishing the story; others may argue he was simply promoting his Explosition® method of storytelling. Either way, it kept the campers captivated, especially when he removed his gauzes to show them his battle scars. By the time he finished and got to answering questions, it was already evening.
"Alright, lads 'n lasses, that was enough for one day. Don't think youse going to keep those smiles up next time you see me – Because I'm back to being your coach!" Everyone moaned in frustration.
"That's what I like to hear! Now let's get to the part where we burn my death certificate!"
When the burial shroud was brought before him, he almost shed a single manly tear. It was colored in beautiful golden silk to represent Austarlium, and adorned with the symbol to make every Australian proud: A man boxing a kangaroo. "She's a beaut.", he whispered. It was surprising that they even remembered what he told them about it. He took a torch and tossed it alongside other campers. He watched it burn away, then clapped his hands. "Splendid! Let's rage!" The ensuing party made him have more fun than any wine-tasting event with pampered suit-wearers he had to attend.
The months passed peacefully. Saxton felt conflicted about this. On one hand, he had nothing to fight. His superiors wanted him to stay in camp, both so his body would fully heal and that so the public will forget about his various misdeeds. Occasionally, he would venture out to the Camp Half-Blood Forest, finding himself a monster to hunt, but compared to what he fought in his journey, they were always weaklings, nothing as exciting as the beasts he slayed. He felt bored, and his only way to unload his pent-up aggression was training. Himself, of course, no one else could even come close to keeping up with his exercises. But it still wasn't the same thing.
But on the other hand, it was a whole new life experience. Just like he wanted. This was just part of the deal. His relationships with all the camp members kept warming up. He adjusted his teachings to be less demanding – after all, none of them were a Hale family member. He couldn't expect those kiddos to match the standards of an Australian child. Slowly, he adjusted himself to act more like a gym coach rather than a drill instructor, which made them start to actually like him.
Fourth of July came, and he went with the rest of the Camp to watch their own Greek-themed fireworks. While he was pondering to himself how profitable these could be, he heard Percy's voice in the distance.
"…hope they make good enchiladas!"
Saxton jogged to their direction and spotted Grover about to leave through the trees. "WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, BOY!" He shouted, loud enough for Grover to stop dead in his tracks.
Grover had a surprised look on his face, then remembered he did a terrible mistake not saying goodbye to the Australian. "Oh, Saxton! I got a quest to-"
"Blah, blah, you're not going anywhere!" Saxton pulled a combat knife out of his pocket and threw it upwards in the satyr's direction.
"Ah!" Grover recoiled back, but the knife was thrown accurately enough to land at least 5 meters away from him.
"Not without protection, you are! Grab that shiv, and use it well!"
Grover grinned. He wasn't the type to carry this item, but like many others, he already knew you can't say "No" to Saxton Hale. "Uh, thanks!" He yelled back, took the knife and went off to his journey.
"I sure hope that kid survives. God knows the world isn't kind to hippies like him." Saxton muttered.
"We can hear you." Annabeth said.
"So?" Saxton sat down and looked at the sky with wistful eyes.
"You miss your old world, do you?" Percy guessed.
"I can't deny it, lad." Saxton sighed. "I lost lots of stuff coming here." Saxton silenced for a few seconds. He had much more to talk about. His significant other, his company, his wealth, his employees… but a real Australian never reveals his weaknesses, only strengths. "I'm sure that Texan genius who works for me will fix that machine eventually." Before they could keep talking, Saxton got up and left for a night walk, deep in thoughts.
Due to its shifting nature, time kept passing on. Saxton's boredom grew every day, in addition to his longings to home. Back in the field, he could distract himself from thinking about that. What mattered was protecting the group and surviving. Now, he couldn't even entertain himself in training the campers. It was the end of the summer, and they were all getting ready to leave for their normal lives. And what would he do? He wasn't imprisoned in this camp. He could go out to the real world, start small, climb the ranks of some company, get rich. But all that sounded so pedestrian, and the thought of becoming an American salaryman disgusted him. He was not someone who sits in a cubicle, pushing pencils and typing away at tiny keyboards all day. What else? He could do physical labor. Operate heavy machinery or be a construction worker, using only his limbs. Sounded interesting, but also so mundane. Maybe he could get into the life of crime, get his hands dirty, his prize money laundered… Though that would open up a whole different can of worms for his future. Perhaps he could simply go out there and search for real monsters to fight. The kind which poses an actual challenge. That could have been a good idea. But it doesn't put food on the table, since none of those creatures turned into a satisfying mess of flesh and blood when they died, they simply evaporated to dust. Decisions, decisions!
Saxton groaned. This civilian life was just too frustrating. He went outside his office and decided it's time to go to his personal punching rock in the forest. What is a punching rock, you may ask? In the last few months, Saxton Hale couldn't stop thinking about his father, Bilious, and his windmilling fists. Saxton could break rocks, sure, but nowhere near the sizes that his dad would annihilate. Saxton Hale could shatter through a thick concrete wall. Bilious Hale would literally dig a tunnel while he was punching the coal out of rocks. There was no competition. But his father told him to never give up. "Lad! All you need is to keep fightin'. Keep working ya body, and you'll become just like me!" He could still remember his deep, heavy voice. And Saxton never stopped training. Not there, not here. So when he found a massive boulder in one of his trips to the forest, he was delighted to use it as a punching bag.
He arrived there and felt his usual targeting spot. The exterior was incredibly thick, and so far he only made serious cracks in it, but it was satisfying enough. He could hit it harder and start breaking off small pieces if he wanted to, but fist-fighting wasn't just about dealing the most damage to your opponent. Improper form hurts your wrists, makes your knuckles bleed, breaks joints. If he wanted to truly become like his dad, he would have to learn to avoid degloving his hand in situations like the climb out of Tartarus. He took a deep breath, rubbed his palms, and prepared his arm to strike…
"…Don't speak of Thalia!"
Saxton could just barely hear a shout in the distance. It aroused his suspicion – the forest would usually be empty of other campers, especially now. What reason does someone have to shout here in this sunny day? He started walking towards where he heard the voice. As he got closer, he could hear pained moans. They sounded eerily similar to…
Saxton began running. He quickly got to where he heard the groans coming from and found Percy, stumbling back towards the Camp. The boy turned around upon hearing Saxton's footsteps, and with a pale face, he started murmuring.
"Help…"
Saxton didn't give him time to say "me". He bolted forward, snatching Percy with both hands sprinting as fast as he could. "No worries, son, I got ya, stay with me!" He grunted, completely focused on bringing Percy to safety. He glanced at the child's palm, and immediately recognized the sign of a severe scorpion sting. He decided to speed up the trip. "This'll only take a moment." He said to Percy, hopping on a tall mound and promptly tossing him up high in the air, above the trees. Saxton kept running, jumping a nearby tree and then up into the air too, reaching his arms to catch Percy before he fell down and then raising him beyond his hat, so when Saxton landed on the ground, his knees took most of the force. "Bah! I need to do some legwork." He grumbled and continued moving, finally leaving the forest. He arrived at the Camp with many shocked eyes staring him.
"HE'S AS CROOK AS ROOKWOOD, GET A SURGEON!" He yelled at them. Soon enough, he was surrounded by teens who took Percy from his hands and carried him to the Big House. Chiron hurriedly cantered over to Saxton.
"Hale, what happened?" He asked with concern.
"Found him heaving in the forest, dying in front of my very eyes." Saxton stared at the group entering the House. "Saw the sting. Scorpion's, not like any I've ever seen before, and I know all sorts of those arachnids, 'specially the deadly ones."
"Perhaps it was a monstrous type. I must attend to him right now."
Saxton followed Chiron and patiently waited with Argus as Chiron treated Percy. As the hours passed by and Percy's health began to stabilize, he started thinking about the voice he heard. It wasn't Percy, but belonged to someone familiar… it sounded like one of the most skilled campers he got to train.
"Bloody Oath, I know who did it!" He suddenly got up from his chair.
"Who?" Annabeth asked, who was in the same room watching Percy.
"It was that handsome lad with a scar on his mug… Duke!"
"You mean Luke?" Annabeth said in surprise and disbelief.
"Ooh, when I'm done with him, he's gonna look like puke!" Saxton punched his hands together. "I'll go bag and drag him!"
"Even if it was Luke, it's too late…" Chiron started speaking, but Saxton was already out of the door, running back to the forest. "...to find him."
"He… he's wrong, right? Luke can't have done this to him…" Annabeth worriedly said to Chiron.
"I don't know, my dear. I hope he is wrong. We will just have to wait for Percy to wake up and tell us."
After a few hours of rigorous searching, Saxton was back empty-handed. He got up to the Big House's porch and found Percy sitting in a chair, awake. The latter made a weak smile upon seeing him. "Hey, Saxton… didn't catch Luke, huh?" He spoke.
"I'm sorry, son. I left no stone unturned, but it's like the damn Earth swallowed him whole." Saxton gnarled, his disappointed face turning relieved at Percy's condition.
"Yeah, that's about what happened… You didn't need to do it, but thank you for trying."
"Anytime. Glad we don't have to put you six feet under, my boy."
Percy nodded. "You just missed Annabeth. She left for her family right now."
"Shame I couldn't send my regards." He sat down next to Percy. The camp seemed basically empty now. "Well kid, what are your plans for the future?"
Percy looked off into the distance. "I think I'll go back to school and study. It's the best choice for now."
Saxton smirked. "Aren't ya smart cookie. Higher education, I like that."
"Thanks. What about you? What are you going to do?"
Now it was Saxton's turn to stare at the setting sun. "I'll be square with you; I don't know. Haven't made my mind yet. My employees certainly don't look like they're coming soon. Do I stay here, or go out there…" he rubbed his chin. "Ya know what? Don't worry about me. I'll find my way. Always do." He got up and offered his hand to shake Percy's healthy one. The latter complied. "Chookas, Percy Jackson." He held his hand firmly.
"Uh… you too, Saxton Hale. I hope we will see each other again." Percy was thankful Saxton was considerate enough not to apply his usual force with the handshake.
"Don't hope - know." Saxton got ready to jump off the railing. He looked at Percy one last time and raised his thumb up. "Hooroo!" And then he was gone, off into the unknown.
[ZZZ]
[Oh, reader! I didn't notice you there. In fact, I don't even know why you're still here! As your astute observation may have noticed, I have been LITERALLY SLEEPING for past 5000 or more words! The fact that you got to the end astounds me! You are a truly powerful boy or girl. You remind me of me, if I gave a crap about this story! Don't worry, children. I WILL get rights to this book, and I will make this story A LOT less grueling. Until then, you must be big and strong like me. So buy yourself a Mann Beer and sit back, relax, and wait for my next thrilling issue!]
[P.S. You may be telling yourself, "Hey, this wasn't a book! It's barely even a short story!" That's right, readers. That is because you were SCAMMED. "What?" Are you deaf? Because I just said, YOU GOT SCAMMED! Sorry kids, I don't make the rules. Read the fine print next time!]
THIS JUST GOT SIGNED BY
SAXTON HALE
Author's Note:
Well, uh, I did it. I apologize for abandoning this fanfiction (again). I hit yet another writer's block and didn't know what to do. Eventually I got enough motivation to sit down last week and finish this story. And I'm using "last week" very loosely, because that ignores all the times I re-read and re-wrote and re-edited tons of parts. I won't lie, first draft looked like a turd. Now… it's still a turd, but a polished one. I hope you enjoy it as my end of the year gift to you. If you do, please let me know in the reviews. Even though I didn't receive any new reviews, the occasional follows and favorites still encouraged me to continue writing it. More importantly, I am now wondering how to continue. Obviously I will go off from Book 2 of PJ, but I haven't decided yet if I should continue in as additional chapters in this story or add it as a new story in the TF2 X PJ crossover fanfiction page. I'm leaning towards new story, but I also so don't want to clog up the place with my pulp fiction. I'll have to think about that more (and you're always welcome to give your opinion, of course). All that is to say, if there is even a demand for a sequel. Your reviews, even if they are criticisms (though please make them constructive) matter to me. But hey, at least I finished this story, so to quote a certain treacherous American general: That's one less loose end.
To answer a couple of questions:
A weirdo: You're right, it was a Stupendium reference. Here's the thing: The Stupendium (aside from being an awesome singer) is amazing at playing a greedy and charismatic corporate boss. He has at least 5 songs just about that. I may reference him more in the future since he's just so good at it, but I obviously won't just steal all his good material.
Fushes: One of the many reasons that may story came to a stop last time was because of the mercs. I was young and seriously overestimating my ability to comfortably write with 9 different characters, not to mention the PJ ones. Again, if there is a future, they may arrive, but I think making this story more personal-focused is easier to write. It's already difficult for me to pin Saxton's character down – it's not like he has tons of material. I find myself constantly reading the comics to help me get his mannerism down, but often I have to fill in the blanks (or even forgetting). I can only hope I am doing him enough justice. I'll never get close to Valve's writing of him, but I will keep on trying.
Gentlemen, Thanksgiving may be over, so we can't pray for Gaben anymore, but Smissmas is soon upon us, so let us ask Old Nick to gift us the 7th TF2 comic.
Thanks, and have fun!