Chapter Two:

A/N: Hey people who are taking the time to read this! I'm super, duper sorry that I haven't updated in basically forever, and I first and foremost want to apologize for that! Now that that is out of the way, I can also apologize for how bad this chapter probably is going to be (I write the author's note before I write the story)! I have had this huge writer's block that has devoured my writing and life! Well, maybe not my life, but you guys get the point! Also I have been immensely busy, and couldn't find the time I needed to wrap my head around everything this story requires! The thing is, I really wanted to do this story because it hasn't had an update in a couple of months, and also, my awesome friend, FirePhoenix15 (check out her account!) talked to me about story covers and she made this awesome one for Shattered Glass! Seriously, I owe you big Chicky! Alright, one more thing, I got a new laptop for Christmas, so if I suddenly vanish, just know that I have just been exploring the new and wonderful capabilities of this beauty! Aka, I have no idea how it works! Back to business, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and yep!

Disclaimer: If only I owned this (which I don't by the way)…

I woke up in a dark, damp, dank, and deadly place. I actually have no idea if it is deadly; I just wanted to make it sound cool! Anyway, I'm tied up to a chair, in the middle of a cement walled room. With a giant wooden door. So that rules out underground, because a wooden door underground would've rotted away, and the whole room doesn't seem that new. As I tried to wiggle out of the thick rope trapping me to the cold steel chair, I searched my memories to determine how I got here, and who could've taken me here/are holding me here. Suddenly, I remembered the bronze knife glinting in the darkness, right before I lost consciousness. I reached farther back in my mind, and faintly realized that I lost my knife right before I fell into the hole in the ground. Crap, I thought, now I have no idea where my weapon, OR where I am. Grand, just grand.
My train of thought was interrupted when the wooden door loudly was pushed open, and out stepped an ugly figure. A very ugly figure my I add, with fuchsia colored eyes that stood out in the darkness of the room. The man (I think) lumbered to the center room, so he (?) ended up standing directly in front of me. Of course, being a son of Hermes, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Thanks dad.

"Gods of Olympus, do you need to, well, clean yourself, everywhere." I said, but hey, it's true, the guy smelled worse than the Hudson, and I didn't think that anything could be worse than that river. The guy didn't even grunt or moan or anything; he just looked at me, and proceeded to unwind the rope from the chair, but not from my body. As the monster-thingy hauled me to my feet, I tried to escape its grip by twisting my arms in the same direction to loosen its hold, then I could wiggle out of my bonds and I could go on my merry way. Except that it has an iron grip, so all I did was dislocate my right shoulder; it's a good thing I'm ambidextrous because my right hand is my dominate hand.

"UGH! What is your problem? I'm trying to escape from your death-grip, and all your doing is just standing there drooling!" I exclaimed, getting extremely pissed off that I wasn't able to escape his grasp; I mean, come on, my dad is the god of thieves that has to count for something, right? Apparently it doesn't, considering five minutes later I was being strapped to a cold metal table, with leather cuffs holding my legs together, and arms to my side. Uh oh, metal tables, and straps are never good. I was proven correct when the monster thing left and a man in a white lab coat strode in with a bronze knife in his hand. Wait, a bronze knife?! Is that my knife? They wouldn't… would they? My fears were confirmed when I saw the inscription on the side of the knife: Luke Castellan; Son of Hermes. Yep, that's defiantly mine.

"Hey! Mr. Lab-Coat guy, why do you have my knife?! And yes I know it's mine because of the inscrip- owwww!" I interrupted my rant with a yell of pain because the guy just DROVE MY OWN KNIFE THROUGH MY OWN LEG! Who does that?! Oh wait, I guess this guy does…. Awesome. I'm just super-psyched now… My train of thought crash and burned when Mr. Evil-Pants started twisting the knife around. I quickly promised myself that I wouldn't start screaming, or beg for this crazy person to stop. I did moan and groan, rather loudly too.

"Ummmmmmppppphhhhh, I-I-I ammmm ju-us-st trrrrrrryyyy -owwww! - ing tttttttttttttoooooooo OWWWWW inder-und-underst-understAND! why you cray-cray people felllllllllllltttttt the-the-ttthhhhhh-thhe neeee-nee-ed to abduuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhct m-m-m-m-meeeeeeeee!?" I finally managed to force out, amid half screams and moans and groans.

"Well, you see," Mr. Stab-Me-With-My-Own-Knife started, "My people and I require a demigod, and someone who nobody would miss… and fortunately for us, you seem to fill both requirements! Isn't that just grand?!"

I couldn't believe it! My own family didn't care for me! But then again, and venom-filled voice interjected, they don't care about OR for anyone really. Yeah, they really don't… hey wait, I thought, what if this guy is just putting thoughts into my head? It's happened before…

"I don't believe you, my friends would miss me!"

"Well I guess they don't miss you enough to come and watch you die before their own very eyes!" he said ignoring my strangled scream as he tore my knife, MINE, out of my leg, and stabbed it down towards my eye. Everything seemed to slow down as I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn't for some reason.

The last thing I thought about before everything went black was one word. A name.

Annabeth…