I'm a pretty useless human being, now that I think about it.
I mean, it seems so, sometimes. Sometimes, it feels like I can't do anything right.
Sometimes, I feel like everyone would be better off without me.
Mom wouldn't be gone if she hadn't had me(if she hadn't met that idiot god, but I can't blame him for everything. He made her so happy; she'd smile whenever I brought him up—but it was a sad, sad smile, so I can blame him for some things).
'Reese and Jesse wouldn't be risking their lives on some quest right now. I know they're so excited, but the truth of all this is that this journey we're on is really dangerous—we're going to the land of the dead. And we might not all come back—none of us might.
Chapter Thirteen
"Team meeting," Riker decided once he'd finished with the Iris message.
It was just after sunrise and the racket the birds were making was giving them all a migraine. He'd just given a summarized report of what had happened to Chiron back at camp—a safety measure they'd all agreed on before they'd started out on the quest. Anything major worth reporting they'd pass on to Chiron.
The only reason they hadn't sent a report after the fury attack was because that had been slightly expected, and they'd been surrounded by mortals—then they'd been putting distance between themselves and the busier parts of New Jersey. So he'd compiled the attack within his report of the gorgon Medusa's demise.
Chiron had thanked him for the news and said he'd notify the keepers of the Priority Monster List—a list the demigods kept on the Camp New Bulletin of all the monsters that were bad news to run into. It was comprised of several big kahuna's, including Medusa and the Minotaur.
The centaur had also expressed relief to hear that they were all okay. Riker felt bad for worrying, since he knew the ancient being saw them all as his own children(even if Riker himself hadn't been home long), but knew he couldn't really do anything about it.
"What next?" Jesse questioned once they'd gathered in a circle. He and Clarisse had been packing up their small camp while Riker had been busy with his report, and their bags were now slung over their shoulders. Clarisse handed Riker his as the redhead continued, "I mean, you mad a good point to Chiron—what did the Furies even want?"
Clarisse jabbed him in the ribs with a scowl. "Wrinkly hags, dumbass. Don't say their names out here—you wanna call them right to us? Those grannies reform faster than your average cyclops, they're probably back out and looking for us again, by now."
"Settle the fuck down, you jackasses," Riker warned, fondly, while Jesse rubbed his side with a glare. "But 'Reese has got a point, Jes. We don't want them causin' us trouble so soon after they almost totaled that bus of mortals just to get at us."
"If you hadn't had half a plan in mind when we got on..." Clarisse shook her head, and Jesse winced.
"Bus prob'ly be fucking scraped," he huffed, adjusting the strap of his back. "Still, what did the hags want in the first place? Lord Hades' must've sent them, but for what reason?"
"In that case, we should probably give him a temporary nickname too. Mandos, anyone?" The blond and the raven both turned to grin at a suddenly angrily blushing redhead, who took a swipe at Riker.
"Shut up, asshole." The country boy muttered darkly, swinging his messenger bag into Riker's face—or he would have, if the teen hadn't ducked.
"They were looking for something," Clarisse brought them back on track with a stern look. "But we don't know what. Any ideas?"
"Make a new file," Riker told her. She nodded and slipped her iPhone into her hand. It automatically updated itself into the most recent version, ad they'd all been startled to find iPhone 6s in their pockets. Riker thanked Hermes that the phones were virtually unbreakable, or they'd all spend a lot of necessary time treating the device's like glass.
While Clarisse tapped away, opening a new file on Evernote, Riker continued to speak. "Title it "Unsolved Problems( . Summary: a list of problems that have cropped up during the mission(uncompleted). Partnered file; Solved Problems( ). Add this to that list, then open another file and title it as the Unsolved list. Leave that empty for now—no," he paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Add in our encounter with Medusa. On both lists, and put a 'solved' in parenthesis beside it on the unsolved list."
Jesse was on his own phone while they did this, bringing up a map of their current location and mapping out their change in course. Clarisse nodded along as Riker spoke, fingers tapping wildly away at her on-screen key-board.
"They were demanding to know where 'it' was." The redhead put in. "They were asking about an object, and I get a feelin' it wasn't the godsdamned Master Bolt."
"There's something else going on here," Clarisse agreed. Then she turned to Riker. "That it?"
"On the Solved list," Riker added, "put a brief summary of how the problem was solved. On the unsolved list, put down when and where we ran into the problem. This is so we can cover all our bases when we go over the mission after we finish it, back at HQ."
"This way, we can learn all we can from any mistakes we might make," Jesse murmured, rubbing fingerprints from his phone with his sleeve. Riker nodded to him.
"That's right. In case of any future missions that need careful consideration... Any idea of where we're going, Second?"
The redhead grinned. "We need to head west," He said, showing the map on his phone. "We're actually pretty near Weehawken Stadium right now, believe it or not. If we headed a bit to the north, we'd run into the Police Department—and fuck that idea to hell, so I mapped out a road around that... We'd go along the South Marginal Highway until we get to Pleasant Ave."
Clarisse and Riker looked at his screen from over his shoulders.
"Then we could buy tickets for the 95 south-bound Greyhound," the blonde girl nodded, "and get off at 88th, which would take us west—see, it goes all the way to Ohio."
"Further," Riker reasoned. "But that make a huge fucking dent in our budget. We'd need meals too, the snacks in our bags won't hold out the entire way."
"We knew that when we packed," Jesse sighed, saving the route he'd set onto his phone and closing the app. He shouldered his bag and eyed his companions. "Well, posse? Let's get our asses on the road."
Ω Δ Σ
Riker leaned against the window of the Greyhound as it pulled out of the station. Clarisse was on lookout while her teammates rested—she'd wake Jesse up in two hours for his shift. It had started raining again, the small droplets of water hitting against the pane of glass like they were trying to smash through and stab him, and Riker shuddered at the reminder of that night...
They'd changed clothes before they made their way out of the wooded part of New Jersey, since they'd have been on the news. Anyone could have recognized them in the outfits their were wearing. He was wearing white skinny jeans and a dark gray V-neck under his leather jacket, with tan, worn hiking boots. Jesse and Clarisse were in similar outfits, except Jesse's shirt was orange, he was wearing tan workshop pants and he had a black skull-cap pulled over his noticeable hair. He'd decided against the leather jacket, and had a black sweatshirt on, with the words "Seattle Seahawks" across his chest.
Clarisse was wearing black jeans, a navy, long-sleeved, turtle-neck and a pair of Vans skater shoes in muted colors. She'd borrowed a dark purple hoodie that zipped up in the front from Riker. She currently had the hood up, and was tapping away at her phone while keeping a close eye on their surroundings.
It was slightly uncomfortable, since the Greyhound seats were really only made for two adult-sized people, and not three teenagers, but Jesse had squeezed in the middle, and Riker had slung his legs over the redheads lap so they'd all fit. None of them wanted to be separated, even by the isle.
When Clarisse woke Jesse up for his turn, she'd trade places with him. Once it was Riker's turn, he'd slide over and Jesse would once again be in the middle.
Riker smothered a yawn and reached down to pull a Gatorade out of Jesse's messenger bag, uncapping it and taking a drink. Clarisse glanced over at him from her phone.
"You should get some sleep, Rike," she told him.
He pursed his lips. "Yeah, I know. I'm working on it."
She sighed, concealing a yawn of her own, and carefully reached over Jesse to grab his hand. Riker raised his eyebrows and she seemed to bite her tongue. "I know you're worried about your mom, Riker. But you told us a little—not all of it, I know that, but some. And it makes me glad that you trust us." She assured, when he winced.
"I wish I could you guys tell you all of it," he admitted. "But, you might try to stop me."
She frowned. "Just... promise me you won't try anything risky—like, life-threatening risky. Okay?" She squeezed his hand, and let go of it, turning back to her phone with a satisfied half-smile when he nodded.
Riker released a deep sigh, wriggling back into the seat until he'd warned his area of the seat with friction and was slightly more comfortable. He let the back of his head rest against the chilly window, then shuddered and pulled up his collar, sliding down until it covered more than just the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and, with some difficulty, drifted off.
He really hoped that he wouldn't end up breaking that promise.
Ω Δ Σ
Riker toed the rather jagged and uneven rock that lay at the edge of the chasm forward, and watched silently as it toppled off it's resting place and spiraled down into the darkness below.
Looking down made him a little dizzy, so he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could still, very vaguely, feel the slight vibration of the Greyhound beneath him, if he focused with all his consciousness, so this had to be a demigod dream—otherwise he'd be freaking out right now, wondering how the fucking hell he'd gone to sleep on a bus and woken at the edge of a abyss in the middle of a cave...
A cave that was rather far underground, now that he considered it. And the pit before him, it was so wide and so completely pitch black that there was absolutely no way it wasn't bottomless. And the feeling he had, like something in the pit was clawing it's way up the side, trying to grab hold of him.
The little hero, a deep, hissing voice suddenly mused, from inside the pit, the sound echoing within the vast cavern and making Riker nearly jump out of his skin. Cold, and heavy. Freezing. Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do.
"Um," Riker coughed. "Sorry, pal. But if I'm too fucking young for something you want to do, maybe you should, uh, wait 'till I'm, I don't know, legal?"
The voice seemed to pause, considering him with something that felt, to Riker, like slight disbelief, or incredulousness. ...What?
Riker blinked. "If I'm underage for something, can't you be patient? I mean, jeez dude, I know I'm attractive, but... That's slightly pedophile? Wait," Riker stopped, suddenly suspicious, while the voice spluttered. "Are you one of the gods? Cuz then I suppose it doesn't really matter to you. You're all pedophiles, but I'd have thought you fuckers would at least wait till the mortal's of age before trying any shit."
No! For Chaos' sake, no! Riker suddenly felt the entire abyss shudder, as if every nightmare and monster in it was trying to get that image out of it's mind. Honestly, child. Why on Chaos' green earth would you think that?
"It's that voice of yours, man," Riker drawled, shuddering himself. "It's fucking creepy. Total pedo material."
Th-that's not even— The voice seethed for a moment, sulking down there it's its dark hole of blackness and evil. Riker hummed and plopped on the ground, sitting Indian style as he waited for the voice to compose itself. I brought you here for—for a completely different reason. I don't—I mean—what's wrong with you, you're twelve!
"That was my question," Riker complained. "Except, directed at you. Cuz, I am twelve, thank you very much. Who the hell are you, anyway."
Well, I'm— The voice paused, then continued, sounded irritated. No, I wasn't going to tell you, not yet.
"Well, scratch that, too late for it now, you already started introducing yourself!"
No! I sent you this dream so I could make you an offer! I want to barter with you, boy.
"But what do I fucking cal you?" Riker huffed, annoyed. "I can't just have this deep, dark voice in my dreams without knowing it's name."
D-Don't call me an it, I am male, dammit!
"Fine—fine, his name." Riker rolled his eyes. "Happy?"
I'm never happy, the voice—he—sniffed haughtily. So, no.
"Chaos, tough crowd," Riker sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Whatever. I guess I'll just have to give you a nickname, then," he grinned suddenly, with a vicious edge.
The presence of the voice shrank back ever so slightly, as if suddenly uneasy. What are you—
"Let's see, deep, alto voice in my head. Lives in an abyss in a cavern that deep underground—most likely the Underworld, now that I think about it—so wait, that means this must be Tartarus. Well, then... feels a bit ancient. Evil-ish..." Riker paused, looking down into the abyss and squinting his eyes. "Wait a second..."
The one the voice belonged to seemed to stare back up at him, blinking.
"Grandpa?!"
Silence. And then—
W-what?! The guy spluttered—though the voice certainly didn't sound old, but it had that ancient feel to it—must've been the accent. The presence was suddenly closer than ever, rearing itself his face. I am not—I'm not—how dare you call me that you—you imbecile! I am the great Lord—
The voice broke off, suddenly. And Riker grinned, silently laughing. The guy had obviously never been called grandpa before. How... sad.
Nice one, Kronos admitted, backing off a bit. You're smarter than I gave you credit for, half-blood.
"That word is slightly offensive," Riker said, shrugging. "But I'll let it slide just this once. For future reference, though, I prefer 'Great and Powerful Offspring of a Jackass.' Just so you know."
I'll keep it in mind, his grandfather—wait, holy shit—promised, before that sinister edge creeped back into his voice. Anyway, about my offer...
"Oh, right," Riker sat up. "Well, what was it? You said something about bartering? Come at me, bro—well, Gramps."
'Grandpa' was better than that, Kronos complained, and the air above the pit shimmered with a sudden light as a figure appeared out of nowhere. Anyway. They've mislead you. You barter with me, and I'll give you what you really want.
Riker choked, all senses of humor gone. "Mom."
And that was who the figure was. She shimmered with a golden hue, still frozen in the position she'd been in when the Minotaur had vanished her. Riker's mind took off, calculating all kinds of scenarios. She wasn't actually dead—time lock?—frozen in place—not moving—is she aware—not dead, she is not dead—look at her—right there—I could reach out and touch her—no, stop that—thinking thinking, c'mon—barter? A chance too—no, it's a no go—too risky—how can I—THINK, Riker—fucking asshole of a grandpa—
Help me rise, kid. Kronos whispered to him. Bring me the bolt, and you can have her back.
"You know, she's basically your daughter in law," Riker glared. "Oh wait, no she's not, because my Seaweed Brain of a biological dad never actually married her—ungrateful, unfaithful jackass. All the gods are."
Kronos seemed to be pleased with the way things were going. He let the image of Sally Jackson fade, and seemed to pull closer and closer. Up and out... Help me rise, Jackson. You'll have you mother, and I'll have my freedom.
"How about 'no'?" Riker drawled, kicking the presence away. "The gods are jackasses, but you're Daddy jackass. Sure, they cut you up and castrated you—or whatever really happened then—but you ate them; ew. So no, I'm not helping you rise. You'll probably kill me in the end anyway, and not uphold our deal. 'Sides, I've got a entire group of people counting on me to end this fucking childish fight between Uncle Thunderwear and Father-dearest."
Kronos practical vibrated with anger. Idiot—can't you see they're lying to you? I, on the other hand—
"Taught them how to be jackasses in the first place. The child follows the parent's example." Riker snapped. "So, okay. They might be lying. Hell if I know. But—you might be lying too."
Damnable grandson, let me—
Riker gave the entire dream one great, mental shove, and—
—OUT!
He woke up with a growl.
Ω Δ Σ
Riker's eyes snapped open, and he shifted in his spot, looking over at his friends. Clarisse was leaning against his shoulder, blond hair curtaining her face and soft breaths coming from her nose. Jesse was leaning back against the seat, one foot out in the isle and eyes up near the Greyhound doors. They must have switched shifts while he was asleep. Weird, he was usually a light sleeper—must have been the demigod dream.
Riker glanced at his phone, held snug in one hand. His palm had two red lines etched into the skin from gripping the device while he'd slept.
7:57
Almost eight in the evening. The Greyhound would reach their stop in two and a half hours, and Riker's watch was in exactly three-no, two, now—minutes. He reached his free arm over Clarisse to poke Jesse in the temple. The redhead looked over at him, blearily. Riker bit his lip. Jesse's right eye looked incredibly irritated, like he had something in it and hadn't been able to dig it out.
"Jesse, tell me the truth," Riker warned, slipping over and gently laying Clarisse's head on his jacket-pillow as he switched places with her. "Is your eye alright? I'd say you were having an allergic reaction to some shit, but it's only the right one."
Jesse rolled his shoulder, closing both eyes as the joints popped. He sighed. "I—my eye is fine, Riker."
"The truth, Second."
Jesse frowned, shoving Riker's hand away and crossing his arms. "What if I don't want to tell you, hm?"
Riker paused, sitting back. He looked over at Jesse, who was staring at his lap and fidgeting with his jacket zipper, which was at the hem since he'd unzipped it after they'd boarded the Greyhound. "Jesse, whatever it is, it looks like it's hurting you're eye. As your friend, anything that causes you harm concern me, got it?"
The redhead took a deep breath, then blew it into the scarf he'd liberated from Clarisse's bag. Once they got past Ohio it would be warmer, but for now it was still New York/New Jersey chilly. Jesse repeated this a few times to warm up the inside of the scarf and then pressed his face further into it.
"Jesse."
"Hm?"
"You really don't?"
Jesse lifted his head, frowning slightly. "What?"
"Don't wanna tell me?"
Jesse was quiet, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles. "... I don't know."
Riker tilted his head. "Just so you know, asshole, I'm your friend, and so is 'Reese. Whatever it is, we won't much care."
Jesse stared.
"Okay?"
He nodded, switching places with Riker since it was the Jackson's turn for lookout. Jesse snuggled down, leaning slightly against Clarisse with his legs pulled up to his chest and face buried in his scarf; but Riker caught the small, almost-there smile on his lips, before he hid it and fell asleep.
Ω Δ Σ
"We'll be taking a train, next." Riker informed his two teammates as they settled into the hotel room. Usually, since they were twelve, they wouldn't have been able to book a room since they were... well, they were twelve.
Except baby Jesse, who was almost twelve. Just two more months.
But that wasn't the point.
They'd entered the station bathrooms and had dressed up as their agent personas again, and suddenly a whole lot of attention was focused on them. A few people snapped photos of them, until Riker had held up a hand to ward one camera off, and then people were more sneaky about it and candids were all the rage.
Anyway, when they'd gotten to the hotel, Riker sent a quick almost-prayer to the Mist—you gorgeous, beautiful entity, I adore you, please make this work—and flashed a card in the face of the woman at the front desk. It was completely black and set into a black, FBI-esque wallet, but if all went well it should do the trick... They just hoped to Chaos that the Mist still loved Riker.
"A room for three, single night."
The woman stared at him, open mouthed, before nodded quickly. "Erhm... O-Of course, Agent Jackson. Just one minute..."
They waited, and Riker slipped the fee across the counter before they all turned and made their way to the elevator.
The hotel was relatively fancy, but nothing expensive. Jesse reached his hand into a bowl they passed on the way and tossed a mini-Milky-way bar to each of his cohorts as the lift's doors closed.
Clarisse adjusted her sunglasses before pealing back the wrapper and taking a bite. Riker sent his redheaded friend a grin and took the chocolate for what it was—an sort of apology for being difficult earlier on the bus.
He waved a hand at Jesse and shook his head. It wasn't needed, he understood.
"Faster than buses the whole way," Clarisse agreed, flopping back onto one of the two beds and tossing her shades on the nightstand. Jesse and Riker tossed their own bags onto the other bed and sat down. Riker pulled his phone out and Jesse entered the data from his planner into his own to update their shared calender/to-do list app.
"Much," Riker agreed, closing the apps that he didn't need to save memory, and plugged his charger into the outlet above they boys' own nightstand. "Also, we need to update the files. Add one for the dark titan."
"Kronos?" Jesse frowned, looking up. Riker stole across the room and bagged some ice from the ice bucket, then chucked it over to Jesse, who gratefully pressed it to his reddened eye. "Why do we need a file on him?"
"Dear old Grandpa paid my dreams a visit on the ride over."
They started, head whipping up to look at him.
"What?" Jesse yelped, dropping the improvised ice-pack in his lap. Clarisse gripped her manila folder with white knuckles, staring over at him.
"Why the fuck even?"
"Wants me to help him rise." Riker shrugged. "I said no of course, but..."
"But?" Clarisse blinked, watching him warily.
Riker sat down heavily. "He showed me my mom."
They stiffened.
"Th-the fuck?!"
"That bastard, how dare he—"
"Settle the fuck down," Riker soothed them. "I know, he's a dick. It was basically written on his Greek myth profile, c'mon." A nasty grin grew on Clarisse's face as she dove into her folders, grabbing her pen. She kept an ear on his words. "We should have expected it, and, to be honest, if I was in his place I'd use the twelve year old's 'dead-but-not-dead-maybe' mom against him too, if it meant getting out of that place." Riker shuddered.
"Tartarus?" Jesse guessed, and he nodded.
"Totally some other shit going on here," Clarisse mused as she scribbled away in her neat, typewriter handwriting.
Jesse groaned, pressing the ice back to his eyes and falling back onto the bed. "Wrinkly hags, trip to the underworld, falsely-accused-of-a-crime friends, and now a titan lord?! What next, fucking Santa?!"
"Don't you fucking dare jinx us, you bastard." Riker growled, and Clarisse sneered.
Jesse held up a hand in surrender, laughing. He closed his eyes, looking for all the world that he wanted to take a nap. "We should order some food."
"Room service," Clarisse purred., sapping her folder closed with a content smile. Riker grinned and grabbed the phone.
"Wait." Clarisse sighed, standing up. "We should eat in the dining area. More choices, and there's a huge fire place to throw in some offerings."
"Feeling homesick?" Jesse snickered, but there was some understanding in his eyes.
Clarisse glared at him, but it wasn't as acidic as she could usually make it. "No, it's just we might as well get into some good graces. Pick a few on the way down?"
"Ares, obviously," Riker said, matter-of-factly as he pulled his jacket on, and Clarisse grabbed her shades.
Jesse tossed his ice-pack into the trash as they made their was to the door and pulled a black skullcap over his red hair in the hopes that people might overlook them. His sunglasses hid his red-eye. "Probably Barnacle Beard, as well. I know none of us like him, but you are his kid, and I heard he's a real softie."
Riker frowned, locking the door behind them and slipping the key card into his pocket. "Fine. Also, Keeper of the Hearth and Home, Mother Goddess, and Lord Mandos."
"We need a shorter name for her," Clarisse muttered, referring to Hestia.
"'Just the Keeper?" Jesse offered, and the other two agreed.
They made their way down to the dining area, and silently groaned at the sight. It was rather packed... and the talking quieted down as they exited the elevator and walked over.
Riker's eyes surveyed the are, before he nodded at a table off to the side that was relatively secluded from the rest, and set up pretty near to the fire.
They walked over and sat down. Clarisse sighed and set the folder in the middle of the table.
"Read over the new info while I get my food. Just so we're all on the same page."
They nodded as she stood up and made her way over to the buffet line. A few adults seemed to move out of her way, but for the most part she only moved ahead to the middle of the line before a man put his foot down and glared at her.
The two boys sitting at the table leaned forward in their chairs(which were against the way, facing the rest of the room) and tilted their heads, reaching into their jackets for their weapons just in case the man turned out to be a monster.
Apparently not, since the man paled and backed down when Clarisse reached into her jacket as well, to grip her spear. He still didn't give up his place in line, however, but Clarisse wasn't expecting that, so she leaned back to wait. The boys relaxed into their chairs and turned back to the file, Jesse keeping a lookout while Riker read.
Riker left to get his own food while Jesse read over the file, and then came back to pull a small medicine kit out of his own bag while Jesse went to serve himself up. Clarisse raised an eyebrow, but Riker leaned forward to whisper, "To give a clue to that idiot. Sometimes up with Jesse's eye and I'm going to find out what it is."
She paused, then nodded seriously, going as far as too flip open the kit and pull out a test tube that would normally be used to contain blood samples. Riker tossed her a smirk, then sat back as Jesse approached th table.
He sat down and stared at the kit, before turning to them and raising an eyebrow. "Riker reached up to tap his right eye, and Jesse blinked, gulping. He leaned forward.
"What?" He whispered. "I thought I told you I didn't want to talk about it?"
Riker shrugged and grabbed the tweezers from the kit, snapping them a few times. He considered them a second, before shrugging slightly and stirring his food with them, picking over a few bits absentmindedly. "I know. We both know. But that doesn't mean we're gonna let you out of telling us anyway," he breathed back.
Clarisse glared at him. "We're worried about you, and it's taking our focus away from the mission. We can't worry about you and stay in character at the same time, Second." She hissed quietly.
Jesse bowed his head over his food, grabbing the test tube from her hand and pouring some of his drink in it. He shook it in his hand a few times before holding it up to the light to watch the bubbles swirl around inside.
He sighed.
"In the room, at least. Or on the train. Not here."
"Sooner is best." Clarisse warned, before poking at her steak with a needle.
Eventually, they all decided to sacrifice their entire portions of meatballs for the fire offering. They spooned them into a napkin, and Clarisse stood, gathering the food in her hands. She walked over to the fireplace, ignoring all the hotel patrons who were watching her, and tossed her cargo into the fire. As she turned to walk away, she closed her eyes and sent a quick prayer to Ares and Hestia. Riker would do Poseidon and Hera while Jesse had volunteered to send a few words to Hades and Persephone—who would most likely be down in the Underworld as well, since it was in the colder seasons.
Clarisse sat back down, and the three teammates dug in discussing the folder in quite murmurs between bites. They ignored the murmuring guests that surrounded them, for the time being.
When they left to go to their room after placing their plates in the bin, they pretended not to notice how every other guest in the dining area had avoided eating the meatballs.
Ω Δ Σ
Well, fuck. I'm so sorry for taking so long :/
Anyway.. Here you go. I don't really have anything to say
Except some shameless self-advertising: I've drawn a lot of fanart for this fic, and if you wanna check it out, go see my deviantART page. Same username as on here, and most of the links are on my profile. Another cool fact: I drew the cover for this story myself, and I've also drawn a cover for the other four PoJ books I'll soon be rewriting in Riker format, after I finish this one ;)
Thanks for reading! Please review!
~Skye