Hello my fine people!

Because of your awesomeness and your reviews, I have decided to update twice in one day!

I would like to dedicate this chapter to anyone who reviewed, but especially to Emiliano733, who reviewed the story first. Thank you for the review! It brightened my day! And don't worry: you'll find out. (I also loved the review a guest wrote about totally wanting to read the rest. That made me fangirl. Like, a lot.)

Oh, I forgot to mention that I own Percy Jackson. Fire is wet, water is hot, and the sun will rise at midnight. Aliens are coming. Bigfoot is real. Justin Bieber is a kind soul that I want to bow down to. Octavian is hotter than Percy Jackson. Perachel rules, Percabeth drools. Hera is the kindest goddess ever to grace the Earth. Pera and Pertamis are the future.

Anyway, this part will include torture, so be warned.

And there will be parallels to the first chapter.

I. Love. My. Parallels.

Percy was shocked. This had to be some kind of joke, right? There was no possible way anyone could mistake him for Octavian.

"But I-"

"SILENCE!" the middle voice boomed. "Your situation is bad enough. Do not try our patience!"

Percy was too afraid to say anything else.

They started listing off every bad thing Octavian had ever done. Needless to say, it was a pretty long list. It gave Percy some thinking time.

Why do they think I'm Octavian? Didn't he die a long time ago? What's going to happen to me? Where's Annabeth?

Annabeth . . .

He realized that the room was silent. He forced himself to speak through his shock.

"Sir, you don't understand. I'm not-"

"THAT'S IT!" they all boomed.

"That was the last straw!" the one on the left spat.

"We were in a good mood, and we were going to go easy on you. Two millennia in the Fields of Punishment, at best! You should have been grateful!" the right voice shrieked.

"Yes, the middle voice agreed. "But your display of disrespect has just earned you an eternity of punishment! Guards, take this scum away!"

(Here come the parallels :))

Percy felt worse than terrible. This was all too horrible to be true. He felt like this was all a dream, and that he would wake up at any moment and be back in Tartarus or somewhere way better than where he was. But he knew this wasn't a dream. Demigod dreams could never be this awful.

Percy was vaguely aware of two guards pulling him into a line of others being sent on their way to the afterlife for villains, being paraded the torturers that threw curses at them. He hardly registered being in his young body again, or that he even had a body. It was probably just so that he could endure more pain.

All he felt was horror. Horror that he would never see Annabeth again.

When he finally got to the front of the line, which took forever but still wasn't long enough, a ghoulish figure that stood behind a desk sneered.

"Welcome, Octavian," he said. His voice was cold and unforgiving. "Your eternal torturer is . . ." He stopped to look at a clipboard. "Interesting. You will have your own private torturer."

Out of a nearby gateway stepped the freakiest looking man Percy could imagine.

He had tan skin with lots of biceps, triceps, and lots of other 'ceps (LT anyone?). Even his buzz-cut hair was scary, you know, since it was like eight feet off the ground. His face held rigid features, and they were pulled into a wicked grin. His eyes were black pits that seemed to suck all of the joy out of you.

He radiated power and authority, and his aura very strongly said: Do not mess with me. And by the way he was looking at Percy, he thought he had just messed with him big time.

If this guy had been in a tough guy contest with Ares, Percy would have judged him as the winner. And that was saying something.

"Octavian," he growled. "My name is Gabe. You will call me 'sir Gabe', or simply 'sir'." It had to be Gabe, Percy thought. "Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Percy gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent!" he cried, clearly pleased. "Now you must come with me! There is a special . . . initiation we must attend to."

The way he said it filled Percy with dread.

The entire courtyard was filled with the screams of everyone inside of it. As soon as Percy walked in, he knew he was toast.

All around the courtyard were metal posts that reached up to Percy's stomach. On the top of each one sat a pair of metal handcuffs. On the wall by the gate were . . . .

"Now, let's get started!" Gabe said cheerfully. He picked one of the items from the wall before steering Percy towards one of the unoccupied posts. Gabe started to work with the handcuffs.

"Get down on your knees," he demanded.

Percy's legs felt like jello, and they certainly didn't want to do what Gabe was asking of him. It was like Percy's body knew what was coming. Percy definitely knew, and he didn't like it. Nope. Nadda. Zilch. Not one bit. He didn't want to kneel, but what choice did he have?

Gabe grew impatient and pushed Percy down himself. "For that, you get five more lashes." He took Percy's hands and cuffed them to the pole, but not before taking off Percy's shirt.

Percy was terrified. More terrified than he had ever been. More terrified than when he had fought the Minotaur for the first time. More terrified than when he had faced Kronos. More terrified than when he had seen his bill for college.

He was completely and utterly vulnerable. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He saw Gabe uncurl the long piece of leather out of his hand, and saw it trail behind him on the ground, like a snake. And that snake was about to bite.

He heard the snap of the whip, and, for a moment, felt nothing.

But only for a moment.

Percy was determined not to cry out. Fire flared through his body, shaking him to the core. It was almost as bad as when he had held up the sky.

"One down," he heard the now more distant voice of Gabe say. "24 to go!"

Percy's eyes nearly popped out of his head. 24?! How was he supposed to survive 24 more lashes?! (Of course, if he had been thinking clearly, he would have realized that he was, in fact, already dead.)

The second crack of the whip brought even more pain. Percy screamed. The pain was so overwhelming, it was as bad as holding up the sky.

By the third strike, the pain was indescribable.

Percy didn't understand how he had gotten through the whole 'initiation' at all. With each strike, more unbearable pain was forced upon him. Percy realized that the only keeping him from death was . . . well, death.

After 22 more excruciating lashes, the horrifying experience was finally over. Percy was gasping in pain, since his voice was practically gone after screaming so much.

"Drink up," Gabe told him, shoving a cup to his lips. Percy was parched, so he gladly took a big swig of the liquid. He quickly spit it out.

It was fire. He'd thought he would never have to drink it again after escaping Tartarus (but he was apparently very wrong).

Gabe grunted in disapproval before lashing Percy once more. Percy silently cried out in pain.

"You're going to drink this and you're going to like it!" he screamed. This time, Percy drank the fire, in fear of further pain.

Immediately (after the violent convulsions, of course, because the universe had to add to his suffering) his pain started to subside. He could feel his voice returning, as well as the wounds on his back start to disappear. He was relieved.

That is, relieved until he heard the cruel laugh of his torturer.

"Now that your all healed up, are you ready for round two?" Gabe said. He laughed and whipped him even harder than he had before.

Percy was determined not to scream. He clamped his jaw shut in attempt to keep it all in.

So all of his pain went in silence.

Percy internally sobbed. It was all so unfair. His life had been nothing but tragedy. Just when he thought he would get a break, just when he thought the Fates were done were playing with him, he had been mistaken for Octavian and sent to an eternity of torture (granted, some of that was because of his own mouth, but still).

Even the gods weren't so cruel.

When he was going through Tartarus, his worst mortal experience, it wasn't nearly as bad. At least in Tartarus there was a plan of escape, some hope of getting back to his friends and his family. At least there had been no Gabe sent to torment him.

Here? Not so much. There was no hope in escape - not even in death. He would be subject to extreme torture for, well, forever.

And in Tartarus he had had Annabeth.

Annabeth . . . gods, he missed her. She was probably in Elysium, having the time of her life. She had probably forgotten about Percy. That's how good it probably was.

Was he jealous?

Nah. Annabeth was happy, and that was all that mattered to him. It didn't matter where he was, as long as Annabeth was alright.

With that in mind, he gladly took the rest of his torture. Granted, he only lasted about ten lashes without crying out, but it was better than nothing.

This time, though, he refused to drink the fire of the Phlegethon. He would not be healed just so that he could experience more pain.

And that choice costed him dearly.

Did you like it? 1,665 words. Not bad, I guess.

Again, thank you to anyone that reviewed. I love you guys.

Reviews are appreciated!

Thanks for reading!