Ahh, the first sort of pause in the update schedule has come. Sorry things have slowed down, but the graduation season has descended and has made my job just a little more hectic. But, loyal readers, thanks once again for the support. It keeps me vigilant.
This chapter is dedicated to Lost Experiment, as a thanks for the art, the inspiration, and especially for a certain idea that makes its appearance here. I hope this met your expectations.
Disclaimer: I don't own Class of the Titans. If I did, other Titans would have made some sort of appearance, either in person or through reference. After all, there was another generation before Chronus, a war fought between Titans and Olympians, and two Titans defected to Olympus. Something should come of all of this.
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A Twist or Two
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"Okay, I think we're set." Jay climbed onto the swivel chair, sitting on his knees with the back in front of him. He held his polearm out in front of him. They had lashed several chalkboard brushes to the far end to give it more mass. "Ready?" He glanced over his shoulder at Atlanta, who took up her position as driver.
"As I'll ever be. Just remember to tell me when to turn. I can't exactly see through you." She wheeled their makeshift charger out from behind the desk and aimed it at the door. "Do we know where we're going?" she asked, jogging over to open the door. Atlanta poked her head out carefully.
Jay had to shrug. "Not exactly. But if we just keep going, we should run into someone eventually." Not exactly the greatest logic but it was all they had at the moment. He hunched down in the seat as Atlanta threw open the door and sprinted into her position. "How many?"
"You'll see," was all she said before pushing hard, dipping into her speed as soon as they rounded the corner out into the hall.
Jay could hear the buzzing splash of her feet moving through the pooling sprinkler water even as he clutched at the chair with one hand to keep his balance. His makeshift lance wavered slightly and he pulled it straight. This was done just in time to meet the first Neil who seemed to loom out of the dark hall from nowhere. The smiling face met the pole directly, the erasers pulling off about half of the clay in one sweep, sending most of it back to splatter on Jay's yellow sweater.
The body, on the other hand, hit the chair with a wet smack. Behind Jay, Atlanta grunted, suddenly pushing twice the weight, some of which still dragged on the ground. As near-sightless hands groped at him, trying to score on Jay's eyes or nose, a second Neil was there, impaled on the lance and rendering it useless.
Statue Neil smiled. "Hey Jay," he said, completely at ease that the leader was battling an almost headless body. "You look busy. You should really learn to multitask, you know?" He grabbed Jay's shoulders, trying to wrench him from the seat. "Besides, around the corner, a lot more of us are waiting. You won't get through and you'll only ruin your clothes further."
"Stop!" the descendent of Jason shouted, releasing his weapon even as he spoke. Atlanta dug in her heels, sliding on the slick floor and sending the chariot into a swerve. Both Neils had long since dropped off, tumbling free or being crushed beneath the spinning wheels and breaking feet. They managed to skid to a stop a few feet from the end of the hallway.
"What's wrong?" Atlanta panted, peering around the chair. "I don't see anything."
Jay turned until he could sit properly in the seat, waving a hand, signaling her to keep her voice down. "There are more around the corner," he whispered, "and I don't think we can get through like this." He stood and retrieved his polearm from a flattened lump of clay. The familiar pattern of Neil's shirt was barely recognizable. A little further down the hall the body, now completely headless and with stumps for legs, crawled in small circles.
Atlanta crept to the edge of the hallway and carefully peered around the corner. "I don't think they're going to be much of a problem," she said, quickly turning away. Her face was slightly flushed, a small, befuddled smile slowly making its appearance. "You've got to see this."
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"I'm sure Jay and Atlanta are doing what they can to find us," Theresa reassured the others, and herself. "We just need to sit tight, maybe think of something, and hope everything works out." Her cheerful smile faltered at the look of skepticism on Herry's face, and the quiet pain floating just behind Archie's eyes.
The warrior caught her stare and quickly turned his head away. "We appreciate your attempt at a pep talk, Theresa, really. But so far, this hasn't been like our other battles. It's more planned somehow."
"Well, is there some way to free Herry's arms? He could probably break the rest of us out." She scanned the room, startling when Pam appeared suddenly at her side and snatched up one long, red hair from her scalp. "Hey," she said with a touch of a whine. "That's mine."
Odie waved his hands suddenly. As Archie and Theresa stared at him, he tried to point at something in the main part of the room, the other hand fluttering in some strange attempt to mime what he was seeing. Archie frowned, trying to understand his friend.
A quiet, "Whoa," from Herry finally caused them to look for themselves. Almost all at once, the heroes either blushed or had their eyes nearly pop out of their heads.
Off behind Pam, who seemed oblivious to everything except the sculpture of Herry she was working on, the Neils were engaged in something that could very accurately be described as a distraction. What had started with idle conversation between them, mostly to pass the time while they waited for new directions from Chronus, had quickly become something a lot more involved.
"Are they…?" Theresa asked, her face a beautiful shade of pink.
"They are," Archie confirmed. Odie nodded enthusiastically beside Herry, who merely stared, unabashed.
Splayed out on the long art tables, the Neils were engaged in a happy round of making out. Two pairs had locked lips, one pushed down on a table while the other bent over him, practically smothering his partner with long, hard kisses. A fifth sat next to one of the kissers, hands fisted in his hair, patiently waiting for a turn that soon came. As they watched, the kissing quickly escalated into fondling and soft, sighing moans.
Archie was the first to tear his eyes away. "This is not what I would have expected," he said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Though it would explain why we can talk so freely. A smudge of movement caught his eye and he risked a glance to see what was to happen next.
Odie was rummaging through a drawer, his feet suddenly free. He pulled out a hammer and a chisel. Herry was the first hero to be approached, Odie working carefully away at the restraints on his left arm. As soon as a few had cracked and fallen off, Herry took care of the rest. He took the tools and set to work at his feet, but not before Odie yanked out a few brown hairs, and took them to Pam.
The artist jerked her head up in surprise at the offering. "Why are you giving me this?" she asked. In response, he jerked his thumb at his mouth, still covered by a stone gag. "Oh." A small blush heated her cheeks. "Sure." She folded the hairs into the clay, much to the confusion of the others, and fetched a small, slender chisel from another drawer. "Hold still."
He was sure to be very stiff as the tool tapped against his lips, making a thin crack that soon spider webbed and set small stone chips raining to the floor. Odie took a grateful breath. "Thank you," he said and turned back to his friends. He moved to check on Archie.
"What's up with her?" the warrior asked as Odie pounded with a second chisel at his wrists. "Is she working for Chronus, or is she with us?"
Odie shrugged. "The thing is, I'm not really sure. But I made a promise." The clay chipped away, he gently brushed his fingers over Archie's heel, retracting them swiftly at the hiss of pain. "Your brace looks banged up. Can you walk?"
"I don't think so." It pained him to admit his weakness, but it was a lot better than trying to stand and falling over gracelessly.
A faint bellow of rage sent shivers down Odie's spine as he searched for something to use as a crutch. "Sounds like Chronus has run into some problems. I wonder if the rest of his Neils are, uh, busy?" He resisted the sudden urge to turn and look at what was happening on the tables behind him. "Obviously the statues aren't perfect."
"I heard that," Pam said mildly. "They're as good as the material they're made out of." She fished around under her workbench and pulled out a hairbrush that had one errant blonde hair sticking out of it. It was tossed to Archie, who wrinkled his nose. "Give that back to Neil for me. I don't think we'll meet."
Theresa rubbed feeling back into her ankles. "We should get moving, in case Chronus decides to check on us." A rather loud groan caused her to blush an even brighter pink. "And quickly, before the door is blocked."
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Jay stared, unblinking, at the scene before him. Pressed up against lockers, walls, and simply spread out on the floor, the Neils were engaged it what could only be described as an orgy. He had to laugh, just a little, at the image of them kissing and groping each other, still wet and slick from the earlier sprinkler attack.
"Well," he said with a grin, pulling himself back onto his chariot, "it couldn't get much more fitting than this."
Atlanta gave him a funny look as she wheeled him forward, through the shifting throng. If she squinted, she thought she could almost see the faint suggestion of steam floating in the air around them. "Whatever you say," was her only response as she flicked her eyes away, staring intently at the yellow sweater in front of her.
"Think about it. Neil loves himself, and now there are several of him." He cast his gaze from side to side, smile still firmly in place. "I wonder if it suggests anything about the real Neil. Do you think, if given the chance, he'd do this?"
"I really don't know, Jay." Atlanta picked up her pace, not really minding anymore if she ran over a stray foot or wandering hand. "I don't think I want to know, either."
He shrugged. "Turn left up here. We'll try looking by the gym."
They swung around the corner and came face to face with a seething Chronus, several busy Neils in various provocative positions around him. The Titan's fist was clenched and he looked about ready to smite something. When he caught sight of Jay and Atlanta, a relieved smile crossed his face.
"You don't know how happy I am to see you two." A scythe appeared before him and he snatched it. "I was beginning to think of simply destroying the entire school, but you've made my job that much easier."
Jay's amusement only seemed to increase as he clenched the pole tightly in both hands. "You really seem to have trouble picking reliable minions, huh Chronus? I guess that's why you haven't beaten us yet, and probably never will." He stepped down from the chair and took up a ready stance, knowing that even in such a surreal situation, the god was not one to be trifled with.
Chronus chuckled. "I think you're underestimating me, Jay. You really shouldn't if you value your life." He swung suddenly, the hero just barely getting his weapon up in time to block the blow. "Who's to say I don't know exactly what I'm doing?"
Atlanta watched warily, looking for an opening and keeping an eye out for any tricks. She knew it was some sort of tradition, the main hero facing off with the main villain, but that didn't mean she couldn't help. A quiet sloshing sound caught her attention, however, and she turned around, one hand still holding the swivel chair. For a moment, Atlanta wished she hadn't.
From the hall they'd just passed through appeared a line of barely humanoid figures, shuffling slowly forward. With keen eyes, she could pick out hints of what they'd once been; a stylish trainer here, an arm band or part of a shirt there. Several still had faces, though the features had run together in ways that would make Picasso pull out a canvas in a fit of inspiration.
The more Neil-like ones, stumbling just behind the front few, seemed off somehow. It took a moment for Atlanta to place why; they had extra arms, legs, even half-gone hands sticking out from their sides and hips. One even had half a face, Odie's, stuck to his shoulder. She suppressed a shiver and glanced around for a weapon, finding nothing but the chair to work with. Atlanta pulled it in front of her like a shield.
As they moved toward her, the most misshapen figures in the front bent and pulled limbs, occasionally faces, from the kissing Neils pressed up against the walls. The assaulted merely showed annoyance before wandering off to find another partner, if they could. Those who couldn't gave themselves up for parts.
"Jay," Atlanta called, reaching a hand behind her to tug at the leader's sleeve. "We have a problem."
Chronus laughed, swinging his scythe as Jay turned to look. The polearm clattered to the floor a few meters away. "I'd say you have several problems," he said. "The question is, which one will get you first?"