FINALLY! A NEW CHAPTER! I swear, fighting monsters has got to be easier than balancing exams and writing time!
Semi-Important Info: The guy in this chapter is actually a real part of Greek history. Look him up, it's a cool story. Also, in case it'll help to visualize, I pictured the dean from community as Salmoneus.
Reviews = Faster updates. :) Thanks for reading, hope you like it!
To say he was surprised was a bit of an understatement. With what he had experienced thus far of Tartarus, Percy had assumed that it was basically everything horrible he'd imagined, and more. Monsters, dark spirits, physical and mental torture.
Given the aforementioned monsters, dark spirits, and physical and mental torture, it had seemed to go without saying that Tartarus didn't leave you with a lot of time to play dressup.
He should have learned, by now, to have no expectations.
"Where are we?" came Annabeth's voice at his side. She'd drawn her dagger warily, and was looking as puzzled as Percy had ever seen her. Percy's hand drifted to his pocket, but he didn't draw his sword yet.
"I have," said Percy, eyes wide as he gaped at their surroundings, "absolutely no idea."
After following the light, he'd blinked a couple times, not believing what he saw. They appeared to have wandered into a giant closet. Like one of the walk-ins the Aphrodite cabin would always talk about- only about a thousand times bigger. In boxes, on shelves or hangers, and littering every inch of the floor were... clothes. Clothes of every kind, every occaision. Looking around incredulously, Percy saw togas, Victorian ball gowns, disco-era jumpsuits, and a few extremely charred Camp Half Blood t-shirts. He looked at his own torn and dirty shirt protectively, before glancing towards Annabeth.
"Got any idea what this, Wise Girl?"
She didn't crack a smile, instead looking around cautiously, dagger held weakly in front of her. "No. I don't like it." Then she looked at Percy, and her voice faltered. "What do we do?"
Percy held her gaze. He could tell from her tone that Annabeth was trying to act the same way she normally did, powerful and in control. Had it been anyone else, Percy might have bought it, but he knew her too well. The slight shake in her voice hadn't gone unnoticed, nor the fact that she was still leaning slightly on him. He knew, however, that pointing that out would have been exactly the opposite of what she wanted.
With one last wayward glance into the stacks of clothing, he did his best to put a confident smile on his face. "Well," he said, "the way I see it, we're starving, exhausted, and hurt. Whatever's back there-" he gestured further into the closet "can only get better than this. Right?"
Annabeth looked at him steadily, seeming to weigh her options. It was the closest to herself that Percy had seen her since this whole thing started. He waited for some word from her that would tell him what to do, what to think- anything. Her jaw set.
"Don't jinx it. It can always get worse."
With that, she turned, and slowly, shakingly, started making her way through the sea of clothing. Percy pushed down the ridiculous feeling of disappointment, and hurried to catch up. Knowing that he was the stronger of the two at hand to hand (for now, at least), he moved in front of her, taking the lead as they lost themselves further in the ocean of abandoned clothes.
As they struggled on in the dim light, faint stirrings of noise reached them. They grew louder and louder, and Percy realized that it was the sound of someone singing. It was a high, nasally male voice; and, he realized dimly, it was singing 'My Heart Will Go On', from the movie Titanic.
Percy had never been able to relate to the movie, what with the whole son-of-the-sea-god thing, but this guy's voice made even him cringe. Fighting down an irrational surge of sympathy for Celine Dion, Percy looking at Annabeth, making sure she was ready. She checked on her splinted leg, then nodded, bracing herself for whatever lie beyond the last clothes rack. Percy looked at her a second longer, then, brandishing Riptide, flung the clothes to the side.
"Oh goody! New playmates!"
Facing them was- well, Percy didn't know who, exactly. The tall, skinny bald man in front of them didn't look like any god or monster he'd ever seen. Not to mention his outfit... Bell bottoms, a men's dress shirt, and muddy combat boots. He saw Percy looking at his outfit, and mistook the horror for interest.
"Oh, you like it? I was going for a Gloria Gaynor meets Breakfast Club teenage angst kind of thing, but I think I got kind of derailed in the formal section." All this he said without pausing for breath, then he finished abruptly, gaze snapping back towards Percy, who took a half-step in front of Annabeth. The closer the guy got, the more Percy could see that he looked, well, crazy. His cheeks were gaunt and something inside his eyes seemed to have snapped a long time ago.
"Who are you?" asked the man, drawing uncomfortably close to Percy so that they were almost nose to nose.
"Um," said Percy, drawing back awkwardly, "Demigods. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase."
"Oh," said the man, drawing back suddenly, smile back on his face. "I've heard that name before." He turned, and started rifling through the boxes around him, talking over his shoulder as he went. "I don't get too many visitors down here y'know. People don't really understand how creative I am. That's okay, because you're here now!"
Behind his back, Percy and Annabeth had a rapid, silent conversation.
Do you know him?
No, Chiron never talked about a crazy cross-dresser.
Percy looked away, stumped, and Annabeth raised her voice so the guy could hear her. "Uh... sir?"
"Yes dear?" Somehow the guy had pulled on a basketball jersey, and a large rainbow mohawk wig.
"We were wondering..." said Annabeth, in a carefully balanced tone, "Who are you?"
The man stopped rifling through the boxes, and froze. It was entirely silent, then, his back still to them, he spoke. "Who am I?" He let out a slow laugh that sent shivers up Percy's spine. It sounded like the Joker, from the Batman movies. "It's complicated."
As the guy slowly went back to searching through the boxes, Percy shook his head rapidly, forcing himself to focus. Maybe this guy was dangerous, maybe he wasn't, but as long as his identity was hidden, they had to assume the worst.
Percy scanned the room, searching for some clue to the man's identity. His eyes roamed over countless costumes from every time and country imaginable; and he noticed shelves lined with fine foods and drinks. Percy's eyes finally landed on... Was that the Master Bolt?
No, he realized. It couldn't be. Lying hapazardly on the ground was an incredibly accurate, barely flawed replica of Zeus' favoured weapon.
"You know Zeus?" Percy blurted, turning to the guy. The slim man looked over his shoulder at Percy.
"You could say that." A weird smile was on his face as he continued. "He's actually the reason I'm down here."
"How?"
"Well, you may not know this, but I have a deep love of costuming. Masquerades. Unfortunately, the people in my kingdom- I was a king, you know -were so not glamorous! Nothing short of boring, actually. So can you blame me for trying to jazz things up a little!"
Annabeth shook her head ferverently. "Not at all, um, your majesty." She shrugged towards Percy. "So how exactly did you try to 'jazz things up'?"
"Aha!" Seeming to completely ignore Annabeth, the man straightening up, holding a little piece of paper truimphantly in the air. "Found it!" He looked up, and met Percy's eyes. Following his gaze to the fake Master Bolt, he smiled. "In my time, there weren't many people to emulate. So I went for someone a little more... flashy."
Knowledge dawned in Annabeth's eyes, and the man grinned even wider. "Yes. I pretended to be Zeus. Had everyone convinced, too- but evidently, the king of the gods was just a bit offended. Sentenced me to Tartarus, and everything! I still have my costumes of course, and more are added every day, but let me ask you, dear-" The rainbow wig slid off his head, and his eyes widened. "What fun is life if you must be only yourself?"
"You're Salmoneus. You were ins-"
"Don't!" The king cut her off, and Percy felt the tension rise. "I am more than just some ancient king, girl! They don't believe me, but merely look around for proof- I am... anything, and everything I want."
Annabeth took a step back, repulsed, and Percy realized the guy was a lot more unstable than they'd given him credit for. Slowly, Salmoneus looked down at the paper in his hand. Then he looked up at them.
"People don't believe me. You don't either, obviously. I suppose it's only right that I do as my patron says." His voice was almost sing song, as Percy drew his sword at the mention of Gaea.
"We're leaving."
"Oh, hon," Salmoneus said, "You have a lot of choices in your life. That's not one of them." He snapped his fingers, and the clothes around them sprung to life. In the space of a couple seconds, a bejewelled ballgown and a kimono had grabbed Annabeth, hoisting her into the air. Percy tried to get to her, but invisible arms pushed him back. He sheilded his eyes, calling for Annabeth.
When the blur of fabric finally cleared, hovering in front of Percy was a struggling Annabeth, restrained by floating outfits, and with a gag stuffed in her mouth. Directly beside her was a floating Camp Half Blood t-shirt, hovering eerily in midair.
With a sinking feeling, Percy remembered that conversation at the river, what felt like a lifetime ago. "I'll tell you this, Percy Jackson. The one who will cause you the most trouble is the one closest to you- the one who hates me most."
"My, my, my." came the voice of Salmoneus from somewhere within the stacks. "Looks like we have a choice to make, don't we?"
Percy hadn't known exactly what Hera had meant by 'trouble'.
He figured this was probably his answer.
