Co-Written by VanadiumOxide
Beta'd By PraetorFable
Chapter VII
The Twenty Second of May
Sixteen Days After the Battle of Manhattan
Percy flew over the formation of assembled soldiers below him on Blackjack, while Guido carried Annabeth on his right, and another one of Blackjack's friends carried Nico on his left. It was a massive block of dark clothing. There had been no officially produced uniform, but every soldier was wearing black or dark grey, all still standing in a slightly rough formation. After all, they had only a few days to train them, and formation was the least of their concerns.
There were enough mortal police officers within their ranks now to enable the cyclops to form an actual army that could be deemed self sustaining. Now, twelve-thousand cyclops stood in formation on the field below him, their formation marginally better than their mortal counterparts. The cyclops army could still not be called organized by professional standards, however. Even now, below him, they were resisting butting heads, thoughts in the clouds.
He wished his father could've loaned him the mermen army. Not only would the force be larger, they'd be more professional and adequately trained. Alas, they couldn't operate well on land.
In front of them was the Vanguard. Three hundred and thirty six soldiers stood in a rigidly perfect formation, all adorned in bronze. He had assigned every able demigod combatant they had left to the vanguard, with the exception of himself, Annabeth and Nico. Standing with them was just over 300 exceptionally promising mortals.
Despite the gathering of almost twenty five thousand people a few hundred feet below him, the morning was still, not a single sound breaking the silence. Not a tree cracking in the wind, nor a caw of a crow. Even the nature spirits were managing to stay put.
Speaking of nature spirits, Percy needed to talk to Grover to see what happened with that whole 'nature spirits will help police the island' thing which had certainly fallen through. He knew nature spirits were peaceful by nature, but it certainly miffed Percy to have them simply sitting by.
Refocusing on the formation below him, Percy frowned. The fighting force below him, when paired up against the United States military, would be absolutely annihilated in the first hour. But they had a force multiplier that the US didn't. Two children of the big three. While they had yet to arrive onto the scene, they expected a full twenty thousand legion of undead summoned from Nico. Of course, it would be taxing, but it would be well worth it. Then, Percy would slam their defensive position with the largest tsunami that the eastern seaboard had yet seen, but a controlled tsunami still.
After that, their forces would move across the bridge, the expendable and mostly unarmed undead at the front, the cyclops forces just behind them, the mortal forces following up, and the vanguard to clean up at the end. Essentially, they were trying a modern day blitzkrieg strategy. Thanks to Percy, mortal air and naval power wouldn't be a threat, and with their ground forces isolated and half drowned, thousands upon thousands of cyclops, undead, and mortals spilling into the streets would rush past them, causing chaos. Once they were entirely disorganized, injured, and had no idea what was going on, the vanguard would come to clean up and subjugate, hopefully with next to no casualties.
That was the plan, anyway, but Percy had learned that plans did not often survive first contact with the enemy.
Shaking away his distaste, he did have to admit that they had built a semi-professional army from nothing in a handful of days. It spoke to the talents of Annabeth, and the newly found dedication that the mortals that joined their new regime had.
Nodding at Annabeth, he turned away from the anxious mass of his soldiers below, flying back to the Empire State Building.
Two days later, Percy was standing on one end of the Williamsburg. Annabeth was standing to his right, and Nico to his left. The latter brushed a drop of sweat off his brow, winded at the mass summoning he'd just performed. Twenty thousand undead stood behind them. Percy didn't like the idea of just running over the Williamsburg. It was stupid, and there would be far too many casualties, but they had exhausted every other option during their invasion of Manhattan when they had destroyed every other route onto or off of the island.
They didn't even have enough boats to pull off a naval invasion, and if they did, it'd make them sitting ducks.
The US military had, of course, rigged the bridge with explosives just in case they tried to stage an invasion over the Williamsburg, but Nico had taken care of that days ago. Not that their opponents knew that yet.
Steeling his resolve, Percy called out to the undead army behind him "Itinere, exercitum!"
The foot soldiers began to march, and Percy cringed at the unsynchronized footwork. It didn't matter for now, however. He knew that they would be enough to take Brooklyn. Discipline and organization would come afterwards.
Sighing, Percy looked off into the horizon, wondering how well their Roman cousins were doing. They'd decided to launch their individual invasions simultaneously, nine in the morning EST on May 24th. There was hope that with a new theatre in California, the US forces could be caught off guard. Hopefully, the Romans' invasion would go more smoothly. He expected with how much attention New York has gotten over the last few weeks, most of the US' forces would be on the east coast, away from the Bay Area.
Beyond the timing, he was out of the loop on the end of the details. Percy hadn't micromanaged their end — it was well within their capacity to plan out their own invasion. It would also do no good having Percy make the decisions when he was a continent away. Because of this, they had nigh complete autonomy until they hypothetically met up in the middle of the country.
That was, of course, if everything went to plan in the next several months.
As the charging undead nearly reached Percy's position, he nodded at Annabeth. It was Percy's turn.
Breaking into a sprint for several seconds until he reached a part of the bridge that was over water, he had no hesitation as he dived in.
Percy felt the water surround him in a way he hadn't since the second gigantomachy. In his element, the salt water of the East River, Percy felt like a god. Like he could move mountains. Or in this case, an entire river.
Focusing on the task before him, Percy mimicked lifting the water with his hands, raising his palms up towards the surface. At once, millions and millions of gallons of water lifted from the river bed. Eerily still, the water carried Percy along with it.
Percy closed his eyes as he focused on the feat he was pulling off. It was only a small section of the river he was lifting, and with his new powers it was taxing, but not so draining that he couldn't handle it.
It parted around the Williamsburg bridge, and as the undead and cyclops warriors barely paid it a glance, the mortal soldiers in their army were in awe. They had been told the gods were real, the vast majority even believed it, but this was like nothing they had seen before.
Sure they had seen an ambiguous storm, and a message made from rainbows, but this was on an entirely different level. One by one, the people of Manhattan were made aware of the validity of their new ruler's claims.
On the other side of the river, it wasn't much better.
While basically all of the civilians had been evacuated from the direct shore area, the soldiers which had dug in on the other side in preparation for the invasion they knew was coming, jaws dropped.
Of course, the vast majority of soldiers fighting against them didn't believe in the gods. It was all science and optical illusions. But the millions of gallons of water looking to end them begged to differ.
One by one, individual squads of soldiers threw down their weapons and raised their hands above their heads. Not all of them surrendered, not even quite a majority, but many.
Unfortunately for them, it was too late.
In a crash akin to thunder, louder than a train racing by, millions of gallons were sent hurling onto Brooklyn's shores.
As soon as the water hit land buildings were torn into rubble, barricades, emplacements, and tanks were all crushed, swamped or carried away by the overwhelming force coming down upon them, and any semblance of cohesion was lost.
The soldiers didn't fare much better. Every soldier on the immediate coast was dead in seconds. Those further back held on for dear life. Some of the luckier ones even survived long enough to see the wave reaching the area that hadn't been evacuated, before mechanically receding.
Dropping himself off on the Brooklyn end of the bridge, Percy stood panting for a moment. It was a bit taxing, but nothing he couldn't handle. He could even probably do it a second time, or a third, without being exhausted, but once was enough to break the mortals' entrenchments.
He barely had to wait five seconds before Nico and Annabeth appeared from the shadows below him. They all shared a glance. No words needed to be spoken, they knew what came next.
A few minutes later, the army of the undead came pouring over the Williamsburg, completely ignoring the shots coming in from the enemy army far down the street. They charged headfirst at the army they had been commanded to destroy.
Once they were a hundred yards inland, some of the few dead which had been buried with guns started firing back, though most of them had muskets.
Allowing all twenty or so thousand undead to spill past them, Percy and Nico were feeling rejuvenated. Percy actually cared about the cyclops lives, so he decided that now would be the time for Percy and Nico to personally join the fight.
"Nico, on me! Wise girl, stay here and wait for the vanguard, before directing the cleanup."
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied with a sarcastic smirk. That was his trademark, damn it.
Deciding he'd get her back later, he charged into the fray about a half mile down the road.
It was a few minutes before he found anyone of any threat. It was a soldier with half his leg pinned under a piece of the building which had fallen on top of him. Somehow, the man was still firing, spraying ammunition into the giant mass of undead running full tilt a couple hundred feet from his location.
He was dead before he could notice Percy was on top of him.
Percy moved on, and the cycle was repeated for the next fifteen minutes. He charged ahead, finding anything that was any sort of threat and eliminating it, while Nico watched his back.
"Tower this is Blue Falcon actual, I will request again that I be cleared for take off, over."
"Blue Falcon actual this is tower, that's a negative. Say again, the weather conditions are not clear for operations, over."
First Lieutenant Canik pounded his fist on the side of his jet. From the sparse reports he was getting, their ground pounders were getting absolutely slaughtered out there. Sure, there was a huge risk, but they should be cleared to run risky operations in circumstances like this. Unfortunately, because it was not seen as something that could result in the collapse of the United States, or total war, protocols were to be followed to the letter. Bullshit.
He switched his transmission frequency to his subordinate radio.
"All Blue Falcon elements, this is Blue Falcon actual, we've been cleared for takeoff."
It wasn't five minutes later that they were all in the air, barring Canik himself. They had been prepped for takeoff since there was word of an invasion over the Williamsburg.
Canik taxied onto the runway and started increasing his throttle.
"Blue Falcon actual, this is tower. You are not cleared for takeoff, say again, you are not-" Canik switched his secondary frequency to ground-to-air, cutting the man off. He wouldn't let his squadron sit back while Americans were getting slaughtered and he could do something about it.
It had been fifteen minutes of picking off the occasional threat when they started to get to the area where there were coherent forces which hadn't entirely been drowned. Quick reaction forces were deploying to their location from all over the area, weakening their coastal and tactical point defenses in order to reinforce the front line that was being rapidly obliterated, and it was beginning to show.
Every now and then, Percy or Nico would have to deal with a tank or other armored vehicle that popped up. Mostly however, they were fighting infantry.
Percy felt someone far, far above him, along with several other people. They were moving rapidly, but not directly towards him. They were moving around in circles. Percy almost laughed. They had launched their airforce? Well, he couldn't begrudge them for trying.
Stopping in his position for a moment, — he trusted Nico to deal with any threat he might encounter while standing in the open— he decided to try something new.
He could do this one of two ways. He could create so much friction with the water molecules above that he could generate lightning and send it to wherever he wanted with pinpoint accuracy. Or, he could attempt to use his powers as the son of the storm bringer to attempt to bring down a lightning bolt, purely called forth by his power.
Well, Percy wagered the first option would be pretty easy, so he decided to try the latter first.
It was twenty seconds of awkward concentration later that Percy felt a small twitch in his gut, and a lightning bolt dropped somewhere over Brooklyn. Trying again, he was met with similar results. It was four more tries and about thirty seconds later that he finally landed a hit on one of the flying pieces of metal that was thousands of feet in the sky.
Satisfied that he'd just need to practice with it more, Percy switched his tactic.
Remembering what he was taught in some science class probably in middle school about how lightning was created, he rubbed the molecules of water together as rapidly as he could inside the cloud, satisfied when he saw a gigantic lightning bolt rip through the clouds above him with a deafening clap of thunder.
Lightning was similar to water in that it would choose the path of least resistance, no matter how silly the path seemed. After all, it was just energy moving from an area of high density to low.
Testing his theory, Percy chose a path for his experiment, one he was performing in the middle of a battle, mind you, which was a strange path along the clouds above them. It had several entirely straight parts, and some where it went back and forth. Creating friction along the path he chose, but not enough to make lightning, he then created as much friction as he could at where he wanted the origin point to be.
There was another incredibly bright burst of light, and then a very loud clap of thunder. Lightning covered the sky in the exact pattern Percy had envisioned, and then some. It seemed laying out its path for it made it lose less energy as it continued.
Finally satisfied with his new technique, he set out a path to where he could feel, but not see, each of the jets beginning to turn towards where the battle was happening to make a gun run.
Feeling just a bit dramatic, Percy snapped his fingers, and with the loudest crack of thunder yet, the Blue Falcon squadron went down in flames, every one of their pilots immediately being sent to Hades.
Airman First Class Phillips fired his rifle at the massive horde of undead making their way towards his position. He knew it was only a matter of time before they overran them, just as they had overrun every previous position. There were just too many of them to effectively counter attack. There weren't so many that they would never run out, but they sure as hell wouldn't run out before they made it the few hundred yards to his position.
A hundred feet or so to his left on the sidewalk stood a teenager - more specifically, the teenager who had declared himself the ruler of whatever the hell had happened to Manhattan. It was hard to tell because of how much armor he was wearing, but the face and stature of Perseus Jackson had been etched into every American's memory — especially the soldiers.
The target was tempting, but when his platoon sergeant had attempted to take the opportunity, a wraith had appeared out of shadow before he could so much as fully lift his rifle, and he had been bisected. Bisected.
Phillips had learnt his lesson, thank you very much.
Dodging back around the corner of the building he was hiding behind, he resumed his conversation with their air support. "That's a solid copy Blue Falcon Actual, say again target description is fuck all horde of undead, target in the open on Broadway, friendlies danger close, recommended vector south east to north west, approximate bearing three two zero, over."
The call for close air support was incredibly informal, but it was just about the best he could do right now. All of his less sturdy equipment had been rendered useless when the wave hit (he was still soaking wet) and the target was fairly obvious. He figured the giant horde of undead was something they could see even three miles up.
"Solid copy, standby for ordinance" came the response.
Philips breathed a sigh of relief. He had been one of those that initially wanted to surrender once he saw the river start floating of its own volition, but that was no longer an option. It was fight or die with the horde of undead coming at him.
Earlier, he had to admit that he'd been a bit scared when he heard that one of their jets went down to a bolt of lightning, but a few minutes had passed since then, and nothing had happened. It was difficult weather, after all. Things like that were bound to happen.
Lightning had sporadically peppered the clouds since then, and every time it did Philips flinched, and sent a glance to the teen just standing there a hundred feet away, staring at the sky.
"Havoc 4 Juliett, this is Blue Falcon actual, we're curre-" Philips watched as Perseus shifted his stance, as if satisfied, and snapped his fingers. Immediately after, there was a bright flash from the sky behind him, and a staggering clap of thunder. The air wing he was on the radio with was immediately cut off.
"Blue Falcon actual, this is Havoc 4 Juliett, come in, over!"
Philips tried over and over to reach any Blue Falcon element, but time and time again he failed, only receiving static.
But even as his position was overrun and the undead ripped him to pieces, his helmet cam sent everything he saw and heard back to The Pentagon, where a small group of command staff watched in awe.
The rest of the battle was bloody and difficult.
Twenty some thousand undead had made good enough bullet sponges to get them to their initial objective, the other side of Brooklyn. But after that, cyclops and mortals were dying left and right as their inexperienced leadership overextended themselves during a push toward Queens. Things had got more messy than any of them had appreciated.
The US doctrine was significantly based on having air and naval superiority in basically every conflict they entered, as well it should. They were the most powerful mortal fighting force the world had yet seen. But it didn't help when fighting against the elements themselves.
More than once Nico had had to call forth small batches of undead to fend off the troops in a small area; small batches being in the low thousands of course.
The Olympian army had been slogging through the army occupying south Brooklyn for about two hours when Percy had an idea.
There was no need for them to fight the American soldiers. Percy certainly didn't expect the U.S. army to run out of troops anytime soon, and any further fighting would only serve to kill both his men, and his future soldiers once America inevitably capitulated.
Taking a drachma out of his pocket, Percy created a rainbow in the middle of the air where he was standing. Trusting once again that Nico would deal with any threats to him, he tossed the drachma into the rainbow.
"Oh Iris, goddess of the rainbow, reveal yourself to me."
As the rainbow shimmered and slowly turned into the image of an intrigued Iris, Percy smiled lightly at Fleecy trying to wave to him in the background.
"What can I do for you this time Percy?" she asked.
Percy shrugged, "Same thing honestly. I need to send out a message to the soldiers I'm currently fighting against. Can you do that?"
Iris sent back a devious smile. "Oh, Percy, how you hurt me so. Of course I can. You want to be transmitted now?"
At Percy's nod, the image shimmered again, and Percy found himself looking at a general mirage of thousands of faces, no single one distinguishable.
Concentrating the hardest he had so far today, a deafening crack of thunder ran out across the battlefield. It was preceded by a chain of lightning which arced across the sky in every direction.
Momentarily, fighting stopped. Mythological beings and mortals alike stared into the sky in wonder for several seconds at the phenomenon.
"Soldiers of the United States. You have fought valiantly, but now it is time to lay down your arms. The fighting will cease, and I will allow you to leave Long Island unimpeded by my forces. There is no point to the meaningless death and damnation of those that fall here today, as you will all serve the gods eventually. Those of you that have been convinced of the reality of your situation may stay and take up arms for the empire. Those of you that continue to fight will be eliminated and sent to the fields of punishment for an eternity of damnation."
Percy steeled his expression. "Make no mistake, this will be my last act of mercy to those who take up arms against the will of the gods. Choose wisely."
With a thought, the cloud of mist disappeared from in front of him and the message was disconnected.
He turned to Nico. "Inform the frontline officers, hold their advance for fifteen minutes, and then resume. Also, we'll have a lot of spies in our army after today. I want you to make sure they are all removed before our next invasion."
"At once, Your Majesty." Percy could see only the ghost of a smile on Nico's lips as he bowed slightly. Percy would get both him and Annabeth one of these days.
HR
"Report."
"The battle has turned out far better than expected, sir. U.S. forces were ordered to retreat across the bridge off of Long Island, and just over one hundred have stayed behind to support us. Of course, far more likely wanted to, but would be called traitors and shot. We are on schedule to resume our assault on the rest of Long Island by tomorrow afternoon if we expect well rested and organized soldiers. Command staff will resume planning immediately,"
Percy was getting a report from Darlton, the recently promoted Colonel after the tainted victory of Brooklyn.
"Good. Find quarter for our men, you have my permission to seize civilian housing for the time being. See to it those you displace have a place to stay tonight if you can."
Percy turned away.
He was reminded of how tired he was of all the fighting. Couldn't the gods have given him just a month's break, or something? He had been perpetually fighting a war for the last six years of his life. He was just about done with war.
Percy needed a way to end the upcoming battles with one fell swoop. But how? For the new nation he had built to be self sufficient, it needed time to build. He couldn't ask Annabeth to build him a government that would end up governing the world when she was planning battles every damn day.
Hell, he couldn't develop his own abilities until they had a break. He couldn't think of ideas to improve or develop the empire, much less act on them. Nor could he train up a full, proper, army. With uniforms, and rifles, that actually knew how to fight. He needed a full, sovereign nation to do those things.
And so Percy decided he was done with war soon. Surely those in Washington would have seen what he could do by now. They couldn't call his bluff at this point. It was all over the internet, despite it being mere hours after the battle. The things they did today couldn't be hidden if they wanted it to. So standing right there, Percy determined he would be heading to Washington soon.
First, Long Island would need to be captured. But afterwards, Percy would show up on the President's doorstep, with an army if need be.
Percy turned back to the still attentive Darlton.
"I'll be heading back to Manhattan the day after tomorrow. I expect that Long Island be united under our banner by the time I leave. Dismissed." Percy didn't need to say anything else, and with a crisp salute Darlton was gone.
He found it was easier to slip into the persona of the ruler of a country when he wasn't speaking to anyone he knew. Not that he knew many people anymore. Gods, the funerals were another thing he would have to take care of. He hadn't had time to properly mourn in any capacity, and he guessed neither had any of the other survivors.
The vanguard would be moving back with him to Manhattan, then. Hades, he didn't even know who all had died. He was certain there would be many familiar names. Camp was his home, and hundreds of his family had died days ago, and he hadn't so much as bothered to find out who.
Percy struggled to resist the urge to punch the wall in front of him, as he knew it would break, but he couldn't stop the bursting of the pipes throughout the building he was currently in.
His patience was pushed to its limit when the same daughter of Hermes from a few days ago arrived at his floor, and hurriedly walked up to him.
"Your Majesty. An urgent message from New Rome," she handed him a paper, which had presumably been carried across the country by a giant eagle.
He unfolded it and began reading.
FOR THE EYES OF PERSEUS JACKSON ONLY
Ave Imperator,
I am writing on behalf of Praetor of New Rome Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano. The Consul of New Rome, Jason Grace, is dead.
Percy let his hand holding the paper fall, and stared into the wall in front of him.
Why was the question at the top of his mind. Why did even more of his friends have to die? Why did he have to be born a demigod? Why did he have to be the only demigod to be the subject of two great prophecies? Why did he have to be the subject of ANY prophecies? Why was he seen as the leader, that he had to be born to the blood of Poseidon?
Percy didn't want to lose any more of his friends. Percy didn't want to be responsible for any more loss of life. He didn't want to order anyone else to their death. This time he did punch the wall, and felt satisfaction at the hole he punched through it. And then he punched again, and again, and again, until there wasn't any wall in front of him left to punch. It was easier to deal with anger than grief, after all.
He turned on the girl who had delivered the message. "Out." He spat. She immediately turned on her heel and vacated the room.
Taking more time to collect himself, he began to read the rest of the letter.
Until you designate a replacement for Consul Grace, Praetor Avila Ramirez-Arellano will take charge of all Roman affairs. She requests you to appoint a replacement with haste. As for the outcome of the operation, we can report that the invasion of San Francisco was a sound success. So far, our occupation has not met with trouble. Our contacts have been effectively running the local government since the invasion, and all plans for expansion and consolidation are underway.
Ave Imperator,
Lacey Green, Primus Pilus
Percy clenched the paper in his hand. Through the hole in the wall he had made, he could see the storm outside intensifying, lightning falling with increasing and frightening frequency, and the winds brooming to record-breaking speeds.
He didn't need to turn to know Nico was behind him.
"Percy, you need to calm down," Nico told him coolly.
Percy crumpled the paper and tossed it in the direction of his new window.
The pressure difference sucked it out and he grunted as it joined the debris flying outside.
"I'm fucking sick of it, Nico." Percy smashed his fist into the table, barely holding back his strength so it wouldn't break. "Give me a reason I shouldn't go to Washington right now and start killing until someone ends this war."
"Percy," Nico said, his voice quieter but with the same seriousness. He stepped forward, almost placing a hand on Percy's shoulder before obviously reconsidering. "You need to control yourself and calm down. I know it—"
Percy sent him a sharp look. "You of all people should understand, Nico. What the gods, fate, has done to me. Us. I'm about ready to burn the whole thing down. Most of our friends here are now dead. Now I'm told Jason is too and who knows how many others from New Rome! So tell me, by the fucking gods, why I should fucking calm down?!"
A clap of thunder could be heard in the distance, but Percy ignored it.
Nico matched his glare — the first time he'd done so in a very long time. "Because then you'll be like the gods. You're acting just like it, damn it! You're here, throwing a temper tantrum because things aren't going your way. And because of it, you're throwing your anguish and pain onto others. Innocent people."
Nico gestured outside.
Percy didn't want to but he followed Nico's pointed look.
Outside was a mess. From his position at the top of the building, he could see the effect his 'temper tantrum', as Nico had put it, was having on the city.
He saw destruction. Rain poured from the sky and water surged in from the Atlantic, flooding and destroying buildings near the coast. Those further from the seafront fell victim to sporadic lightning strikes setting fire to their homes. The buildings lucky enough to avoid the waters and lightning were being torn down by the tornado level winds rushing through the city.
Percy was destroying the city, and likely half the eastern seaboard.
Percy took a deep breath.
This wasn't what he was. This wasn't what he wanted to become. He didn't want to be like the Olympians, leveling an entire city because of some bad mood. Nico was right and with effort, he let go of all the stresses that were boiling within him while bottling what he couldn't, away.
He thought about Annabeth and the future he wanted to build with her. He thought about the days after the Titan War, where he, Grover and Nico hung out. He thought about his mom bringing home candy from work when he was little and the time she first taught him how to bake. He thought about all the days where at camp, even with the Great Prophecy looming, there were nights where he and his fellow campers would relax, singing songs and telling stories around the campfire, and starting food fights to the dismay of Chiron and the cleaning harpies.
A little corner of his mind whispered how many less friends he had now. He added those thoughts to the other bottled emotions he wasn't ready to address right now.
The winds outside slowed. And with it, the rushing in his blood.
He collapsed back into his desk chair, letting out a breath with such finality, it felt like he'd been holding it for hours. "Thanks."
Nico shook his head "It's my job. But promise me you'll take a vacation the second you have the chance."
Percy threw his head back and laughed, taking his mind off the anger that was boiling within him. He would have time for feelings later. "I was thinking the same thing, trust me."
And like that the raging storm before Nico had changed to a tranquil lake.
Nico extended a hand. "Let me take you back to Manhattan, just for tonight. You can relax in a real bed, see Annabeth."
Percy stared at the hand hesitantly, his moment of cheer slipping away. Nico's offer was tempting. To see Annabeth, to be able to sleep in his own bed. His thoughts rearing to a halt. When had he started considering his bed to be the one at the Empire State Building?
His thoughts shifted. If he went, would he have the will power to return here? If he went to Annabeth—and took the night off—would he have the strength to return to his post on the war front? It'd be damn tempting to run away; to leave the military to the mortals and this war to the gods.
He accepted Nico's hand anyway.
