I wish I had some excuses, but I don't. It's been over a year since I last updated this, and since then my writing style has totally changed and evolved. The plan is to pick up the story where I left off, but it's been so long a lot of things have changed in my head about both the characters and the plotline. I really love all feedback, negative and positive, so I'll be forever grateful if you leave your feedback in the comments section.

Sadly, I don't own these characters, but the plot is mine.

This contains, as usual, lots of gore and blood so if that's triggering for you, please don't read. It also contains some minor swearing and my pathetic attempt at a fight sequence.

The concrete was tinged red from the blood that had soaked it over the years. He realised this lying on the plank of wood he called his bed and staring up. He had managed to get blood on the ceiling. Now that was impressive.

Suddenly a voice filled the air so loud that the walls shook. It seemed to be made of a thousand whispers and screams and shouts rolled into one cacophony of pure noise.

"Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon."
"People call me Percy." His voice was drowned out but he felt the need to say something. "Only school teachers call me Perseus, my friends call me Percy. And considering we've known each other for such a long long time, I reckon that you qualify as that now."

"SILENCE!" He shut up. "For one hundred years you have suffered every heinous torture a man can endure. For a century Annabeth had never once come looking for you, has never once shed a tear for you. She has found someone else, someone who can be so much more than someone as stupid as you. Now you have learnt the truth, that love only ends in pain." It cackled, the very ground underneath his feet shaking. "I have decided to offer you a deal. You may leave here, live a life of luxury and never feel pain again. You may eat whatever you choose, go wherever you choose, you may never have to set foot in this cell again. All I ask in return is for someone else to take their turn. Annabeth Chase had lived a perfect life in luxury while you rotted in a cell, now it is time to switch places. I will give you a short while to decided, after that if you choose no you will never leave this place."

"I don't need any time." He didn't bother raising his voice. "I decided the second you started speaking." There was a silence, and then his voice cut through the putrid air. "Annabeth Chase may not love me anymore. She may have found someone else to spend her existence with. But that doesn't mean that I don't love her. Every single day it is her face, her voice, her everything, that gets me though the pain. It is the thought of her. I love her. I love Annabeth Chase, and I could never be happy knowing that she is going though this. So no deal, you sick bastard."

Percy ran. All he could hear was his feet pounding on the ground and his heart beating in his chest. The screaming of his muscles barely noticeable as the looming trees flew past beside him. The knife in his hand was just the right weight, though he might have preferred a sword. But it had been so long since he had last held a weapon, and it almost felt like he had some control in his own fate. Suddenly a dark silhouette loomed before him, and he slid underneath it just as it brought its sword down where his head had just been. He darted to the right, then to the left, his eyes searching for an opening. There it was! He used its colossal arm to swing himself up, leaving a large gash in its shoulder. It just switched the word to the other hand. Great, an ambidextrous monster. Just what he needed. Another opening later and even more black blood was dripping to the floor. The knife between his teeth, he shimmied up a nearby tree. When the monster had swung one giant clawed hand towards him he leapt off it, burying the knife up to the hilt in its throat.

Taking great gasps of air, he tugged the knife out of its tough flesh. His eyes were already searching for the next monster when he felt it. It was a tiny tug in his chest, barely noticeable. But he held onto it like a lifeline. It reminded him of a time long ago, when that familiar little tug had meant home, safety, had meant that Grover was somewhere near by and wasn't hurt. That little tug had pulled him back from more battles than he could count, and it reminded him of songs played badly on reed pipes and hours spent talking about everything and nothing next to his best friend. That little tug meant Grover.

Then it was gone, and somehow he knew that the fates wouldn't give him another chance. Glancing down at the knife in his hand, he whispered something into the stale air. "See you on the other side, G man." Then he plunged the knife into his side, a scream being wrenched from his lips as he collapsed on the cold hard ground.