A reviewer expressed some concern that this fic might be suddenly put on hold. I think I can safely say that this won't happen, considering just about any time I have a spare moment, I'm writing or planning something. And the constant support I'm getting (thanks, thanks, thanks!) inspires new ideas. Already a few things have worked their way in that were not originally planned, and so much the better.
Disclaimer: I don't own Class of the Titans. If I did, the gods would take a slightly more active role against Chronus, where appropriate. Hermes and Hera have already left the janitor's closet, so why not others? And for a bunch of immortals that fought three wars, including one against Chronus, they sure seem to have fallen a long way. Darn fast food.
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Trapped
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Neil crawled slowly into wakefulness, a shrill ringing sound tugging him away from his dreams. A vague sort of unsettled feeling hovered in the pit of his stomach and he frowned at the scattered, fading images of sailing ships and sympathetic eyes that clouded his mind. He shifted, eyes too heavy to open, the weight of sleep not yet releasing its hold on him. Drifting in and out of focused concentration, he listened numbly as a hushed voice, his voice, answered the ring.
"So it's started?" the voice asked quietly. "Yes, I've got him occupied." Neil imagined himself drifting on a quaint little raft, soaking up the sun on a lazy voyage to some distant, unknown land. His mind bobbing, he nearly missed the mention of his name. "Neil will break," the voice promised. "And then your prophecy will, too."
Before Neil's hazy mind could begin to fathom the meaning behind the words – break? Was the person talking about his mirror? Where had he put it, anyway? – exhaustion tugged him down into an inky black void once more. He was only distantly aware of fingers sliding pleasantly through his hair, across his cheek, and the soft, smooth voice asking him whether he could always count on his friends, or if maybe one day they would stop caring, stop rescuing him. As he plunged into inviting blackness, Neil began to wonder himself.
--
Herry only hesitated an instant before lowering his shoulder and plowing through the closest bunch of Neils like a freight train. They laughed as they fell to the sides, hands reaching out to clutch at the ankles of Jay and Archie, who were running close behind. One managed to graze the warrior's braced heel, causing him to yelp in pain and stumble toward an outstretched pair of arms marked by black and white bands. Atlanta was barely able to grab the back of his sweatshirt and tug him, tumbling, into her embrace instead.
"Thanks," he said, wincing as he put weight on his foot. "I'm fine now, I think."
She rolled her eyes at his need to be macho, even when surrounded by smiling, grabbing faces. "Here, lean on me." She pulled his arm around her shoulders and took some weight, hurrying along after Jay and Herry, who had paused to let them catch up. In all the excitement, she missed the faint wash of pink that settled over Archie's cheeks.
Theresa brought up the rear, using her weapon of choice to stall any pursuit and keep those that had already fallen, down. "Keep moving," she called, ducking an errant grab and swiping at that Neil's legs with a swift kick. "Find a place we can defend."
"Oh, I don't think I'll make it that easy for you." Chronus' laugh boomed over all the confusion. "Boys, why don't you show them some of your tricks?"
A shout from Herry stopped everything short. Theresa bumped into Jay and turned, watching with wide eyes as what at first glance appeared to be grey snakes coiled around Herry's arms and waist, pinning him in place. He struggled, flexing his incredible strength, but was unable to break free. His bonds merely stretched with him and increased, bogging him down.
"I don't believe it," Atlanta gasped, pointing with her free hand. "They're arms. You can see the hands, down by his knees." Sure enough, as the other heroes looked, they spotted grey fingers, clasping the coils tightly.
"But how?" Jay asked, raising his xiphos. He charged, cutting away at the slithering arms as carefully as he could. The Neils smirked around him, grabbing at him with every stroke. As a severed grey chunk flew past, something suddenly clicked. "They're made of clay," he said, but quickly broke off on anything more he might have said as a severed hand grabbed his ankle.
The others weren't fairing much better, barely able to keep themselves clear of grey, snaking fingers as they stood, back to back. Theresa's nunchucks flashed almost as quickly as Archie's whip, while Atlanta was forced to bat away advances with her bare hands. Around them, a small pile of missing pieces and broken chunks was collecting, evidence of their skill.
"Guys," Jay shouted, trying to wrench himself away from several Neils. His sword lay abandoned a few meters away, useless. Herry was no more than a head beside him, looking on helplessly. "A little help."
Archie gritted his teeth, snapping his whip again and again. "We're a little busy," he said tersely. He winced and sucked a sharp breath of air in through his teeth as he shifted his balance and ended up putting weight on his injured heel. "Be with you when we can."
"I don't think this is working, Jay," Herry said, surprisingly calm in spite of his situation. "There are too many, and they play dirty." He heaved, once more trying to break free, but only tangling himself further. "Really dirty."
The leader grunted, using his polearm to break free. He glanced apologetically at Herry. "We'll come back for you," he said, looking his friend in the eye. Then, he turned and fought off the Neil currently trying capture Atlanta in a smothering hug. "We have to run."
"Gotcha. I'll meet you guys a couple halls over," Atlanta said, handing Archie over to Jay for support. She sped off, easily avoiding the clumsy attempts at capture thrown her way.
Jay turned to follow her, polearm thrust out in front of him to ward of any attacks, but met with resistance from Archie. "Come on," he said, glancing back. "We need to move quickly.
"I can't." Archie stared down at his feet, covered in clay. He struggled, wincing slightly, but was unable to move them.
Theresa, behind him, was fairing much the same. "Me too," she said, pulling and getting nowhere. "We're stuck,"
--
Odie quickly ducked back into the art room, slamming the door shut immediately and turning the crude deadbolt lock until his fingers went white. Okay he thought, I'm certainly not going out that way. His mind was still catching up with the events of the previous few hours. First, he'd watched himself march out the door. Then, a small battalion of Neil copies had sprung to life. Now… now they were apparently at war.
Pam was leaning against the sink counter, watching him. She was still waiting on payment for her services and her patience was beginning to wear a bit thin. "Hey," she called to Odie, "catch." A familiar device left her hands and flew through the air.
Odie caught it, his eyes lighting up with a small, hidden smile. He nodded his thanks and started fiddling with the PMR. With his mouth still gagged, he couldn't contact anyone for help. But, that didn't mean he was totally helpless himself. The small tazer inside crackled to life. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
"That might immobilize them, but not much else," Pam said to him from across the room. "Most of the statues have had time to dry, so they're pretty resilient. Even to water."
Odie stared at her, the gears turning almost audibly in his head. Most of them are, but not all. He turned his eyes to the ceiling, searching for the small silver sprinkler heads that had to be there. A muffled shout of success made it past his gag as he spotted one. Odie quickly dragged a chair over and then set about looking for something to set it off with.
Pam pointed at the teacher's desk huddled along the wall under a wide window. "Ms. Erato usually keeps matches for lighting candles in her desk," she said tonelessly. As Odie crossed the room and searched through the drawers, Pam walked to the chair and climbed on. She motioned for the matches when Odie had them in hand. "I'm taller than you," was her only explanation.
The modern Odysseus watched as she stretched up, holding the burning flame as close as possible to the sprinkler head. It wavered for a moment, caught in an invisible draft, then straightened and nearly touched the silver metal. A second later, it started raining.
They stared at each other, getting soaked by the spray. Pam slowly slid until she was sitting in the chair, pushing wet hair out of her eyes. "Well," she said at last. "That was kind of fun. But I think I may have overdone it." She looked down at the water pooling at her feet, then up at Odie, fixing him with a hard stare. "That's all I'll do, understand?" Her eyes dropped again. "My conscience is clear now," she mumbled.
--
Chronus glanced up at the ceiling in surprise as the sprinklers suddenly came to life. He had to turn his face away, coughing slightly. "A little water won't save you," he shouted down the hall to the struggling teens, believing they had something to do with it. Around him, his army of Neils were quickly losing color. Some were even beginning to sag, features running together in a slick, glistening mess. "What's this?" he asked, sloshing carefully forward. "They're melting?"
"So much for being fifty, huh Boss?" The closest Neil grinned a watery smile, his eyes near his chin. "I guess you need more patience." He started to laugh, and the action bent him double, his torso sliding off to splat on the floor next to his feet. "Oops," he slurred through what was left of his mouth. "My bad."
"Enough," the Titan snapped, waving a hand sharply. The water abruptly stopped pouring down on them. He quickly took stock of his army. It was down by half of the latest copies. Chronus scowled.
Movement down the hall caught his attention. "Pull," Jay was shouting, tugging Archie, trying to pull him out from his sticky prison. "Come on, almost there." Theresa had her hands on the warrior's shoulders, pushing.
With a loud, squelching pop, Archie was set free, stumbling and sliding across a wet floor now slick with slip. In what almost seemed like slow motion, his feet vanished out from under him and he hit the floor with a wet thud, grunting in pain. He glanced up and spotted Chronus moving toward them, his now monochrome army slowly regrouping behind him.
"Jay," he said, struggling to sit up. "Get out of here. We'll meet up with you later." With slippery fingers, Archie started digging out Theresa's feet. "Meet up with Atlanta, find Odie."
The leader, about to help, froze. He matched stares with Chronus for a fleeting second, then turned his head to take stock of what was going on around them. "Okay," he said, backing away. "I'll see you soon." Jay turned and skirted Herry, sloshing carefully down the hall and out of sight. "I'll save you," he vowed to himself. "Don't worry."