Hello folks.
This is quite the long chapter! I'm sorry about that. Yes, we do have the Avengers, and Tony Stark is here in this chapter. The beginning is right before the Chitauri Invasion and Tony takes off to save the world. The rest of it... Well, luckily, Percy's parents and his little sister are in Montauk for the weekend, even if they had to go without him (all due to Percy's insistence of course).
Disclaimer: You see it, I don't own it- only the OCs hiding around somewhere... If you can find them.
And It Just Keeps getting Better and Better- or Worse.
A few days back...
Everybody wants to rule the world,
Laia thought wryly to herself, humming with the music. You couldn't deny that.
Well, not her. She'd hate to rule the world. It would be a nightmare.
Laia- or technically Aglaia (but don't call her anything either than those two)- hated to be amongst this crowd.
It was among the most superficial crowds she had ever been amongst in her life. And considering she had rubbed elbows with numerous socialites in Athens and other parts of the mainland as well as Crete, that was saying something
Γαμώστε τους. Γαμώστε τους όλους, she thought. F*** them. F*** them all.
She spun a whirl, ignoring the scowl of Eupraxia, her mother's assistant.
Aglaia would've spun more just to annoy Eupraxia, but she decided that if she was going to be forced to socialise, she was going to slay everyone involved.
A smirk lit up her outstanding face, and Laia moved closer to a group of men. They swallowed as she approached. Granted, Laia would have never picked the outfit she wore right now. It was a figure-flattering, A-line, sleeveless peach gown that really accentuated her, ahem, upper half. But if Eupraxia wanted her to attract attention, then by all means she would.
A deceptively pleasant smile growing every second, the men gawked as usual. "Good evening, gentlemen," Aglaia said, knowing they couldn't hear the trace of mockery in her voice. They stammered their greetings.
Aglaia ensured her smile didn't appear too predatory. "How has this evening been dealing you?" She asked sweetly. "I wonder what the president of this country has to say about our country's crisis."
Someone cleared his throat. "I am sure that the president will clarify the situation to the world stage."
The smile slipped from Laia's face. "Not fast enough. Crete and all of Greece has been waiting for decades. No help has come. Nothing has happened."
"And all of that will change." The idiot was trying to cosy up to her.
"Mm-hm." Laia was sure her sarcasm was evident but this moron either didn't know about it, or he chose to ignore it. In fact, he was choosing to ignore the fact that she didn't want him anywhere near her.
"And your president will ensure the changes?" She wondered if she was laying the sarcasm on too thick. She- and her family- could be in big trouble if she did.
Aglaia cast a glance at Eupraxia, almost missing the man's reply. "Our president has many great values. It's time that our government shows the world that countries should take charge of their own sovereignty."
Aglaia looked long and hard at him. "Are you really going to criticise the government of a foreign royal's country directly to her face?"
The man went red-faced and spluttered. "It's in poor taste," Laia said with false sympathy. "I would hate for you to meet the Bulgarian delegation at the UN tomorrow. You know that in Bulgaria if you shake your head, it means yes, and if you nod, it means no?" She smirked. "I believe you are meeting with Mr. Volkoff, I would be very careful. He doesn't take too kindly to criticism. He and I have met a few times before." And her tone insinuates she would be able to tell him if she wished.
Of course, he spluttered. But Aglaia didn't see the menacing pair of dark eyes hidden in the shadows fixed on her.
She would go missing that night.
Aglaia didn't like these people. She ordered a cocktail and made sure they had no idea how young she really was. She would never normally drink without her parents' permission (her father would allow her a sip or two just to sample, her mother would never even consider it), and out of respect for her parents and hosts she normally wouldn't, but she loathed the crowd. The party's population seemed to consist of sexist misogynists, uncompromising and unempathetic politicians, the corrupt, the sycophants who would do or say anything to cosy up to the powerful.
She needed to survive. Plus, she really hated Eupraxia for forcing her to attend this party. She hated the lot of them. Already countless creeps tried to make a move of her unaware that she was underage, or maybe they just didn't care. In fact, she was certain that a few had tried to slip their hands inside her dress, so she hoped no one minded if she elbowed or stomped on their feet 'accidentally,' of course.
In fact, she was certain there was someone behind her right now.
Aglaia spun around right after she had taken a sip of her cocktail drink.
"And you are?" She shot coolly.
"Stavros," the man answered with a charming smile.
Oh no. She knew this guy. He had the tall, lean yet muscular build; flawless Mediterranean tan; brilliantly white teeth amidst a chiselled face and wavy dark hair.
Laia tried to breathe deeply. "I told you, I'm not interested."
Stavros' smile grew strained. "Laia-"
"You don't get to call me that," she said coldly. Normally, she wouldn't mind if people called her Laia along with Aglaia- it was usually any other nickname, even in affection that grilled her- but Stavros' privileges with her were especially low.
Aglaia's eyes were cold as she looked at this man- this horrible, pampered heir who thought he could own the world and loved every minute of it. The man who was so good-looking and charming he got away with everything to the ones that did matter, and the man who shattered many hearts, humiliated and degraded women and didn't even care if he did anything wrong, if he even cared to find out. The man who had destroyed one friend's life, by playing with her.
"What the f*** do you want?" She snapped. She switched to Greek. "Έχετε αρκετές πόρνες στην αγκαλιά σας. Αν σας αρέσει να αγαπάτε αυτά τα κορίτσια, τότε παρακαλώ, μην βάζετε τα χέρια σας σε μένα."
Don't ask. It was just too intentionally rude.
Stavros didn't budge. His eyes bore into her. "You know I've really loved only you this whole time."
Laia almost snorted into her cocktail.
"You really shouldn't be doing that," he pointed out.
"You really shouldn't be anywhere near me or tell me what to do," Aglaia countered sweetly. She put down her drink. "And you'd be a hypocrite if you told me not to drink. How many drinks did you insist on Sera having when you hooked up with her when you were still with Amaja?"
Stavros grew pained. "It was a mistake and I was all wrong," he insisted. "I shouldn't have used Sera or Amaja to try and get your attention."
"Oh, is that what you were doing?" Aglaia snapped. Her hand tightened dangerously around the cocktail glass. "I'm sure they appreciated it. Which w**** or naïve fool did you saddle up with this time? What was the last girl's name? Daisy?" She smirked. "The American one, right? The heiress who wrote a book about stealing friends' boyfriends? As if any of them were worth s**t." She scoffed. "She'll end up old and alone, locked up in a room of her house or gunned down on the street, and no one will give a damn because no one likes her- or maybe too much drugs and alcohol will take an effect on her health and no one will care to visit her. That's just the same kind of fate as you'll get, Stavros. Where you'll end up decrepit and bleeding on the curb of the street, or in hospital dying from a consequence of a great night- alcohol overdose, STD, drugs, or a brawl where someone singled you out- or maybe you were in the way. And let me tell you Stavros, no one really gives a s*** if anything like that happens to you- why? Because same reason as Daisy- no one really likes you. They only pretend to like you because you've got money, a nice jet, a great yacht, a private island, a mansion with gold toilet seats," she trailed off sarcastically. "And looks that won't last when you reach fifty. I've seen enough photos of you. Those are the people that surround you. The ones that can actually care for you, mostly won't go near you. No girl wants to take you home and introduce you as the newest part of her family, because no one wants their family to see you. No girl would ever consider you seriously, because you aren't worth it- unless they're stupid. So go, aim for the stupid ones, Stavros. Because the smart ones, the decent ones will never even go near you, much less want you. And I love and respect my family too much to ever show you to them."
Aglaia smirked at Stavros' stunned face.
"So go home, Stavros. At most, you're the one-night wonder that no one wants to talk about- like the other girls you meet when you're moving onto your latest woman." She said sardonically. "And pick up some other s*** with no brain or ounce of self-respect and make sure you tip her well- she'll need it for the medical bills. Who knows what the last one gave you." Aglaia fell silent when she realised she had an audience.
"What, does anyone else want to have a go?" She asked sarcastically.
She finished her drink. Nearby, she saw Eupraxia scowling, but she ignored the lady. Laia couldn't care less about the consequences right now.
Besides, if anyone wanted to pick on her, she would happily beat them back- with more than just words. She was capable of beating them up.
"Wow, that was impressive your highness, well done." A clapping sound resounded from behind her.
Tony Stark, Iron Man, billionaire, weapons specialist manufacturer and philanthropist stood smiling behind her.
"Seriously, though," he was saying. "I would pay you a million dollars and convert them to Euros just to see you make that kind of speech to the next scumbag who thinks he's a ladies' man. Heck, I'd build a time machine and pay you to go back in time to give that speech to me when I was a kid." He gestured to the bartender.
The bartender whipped up a pair of apple martinis in no time. Tony handed one to her and they toasted, glasses clinking. "So, what brings you to our humble shores- note the irony, please," he added. "Asides from snarking at every politician and ladies' man in this side of the Atlantic."
"You'll be surprised." Laia took a sip. "For one thing, I was all but dragged here, for another, there's a genuine crisis on my side of the world that you can't fix with guns."
"I can fix that," Tony shrugged easily. "Guns, turbolasers, snarky come-backs, apple martinis, you name it." He nodded, almost sagely. "'Course you'll have to go on the list. There's a lot of people that need my help."
"Really?" Aglaia drawled. "Well, there's a lot of people that have been waiting in lists for years. Nothing ever happened."
Tony cleared his throat and set down his martini.
"Well, you haven't tried my list, so that might not be so bad," he suggested.
"Iron Man?" Aglaia raised an eyebrow. "I'm betting that after what happened, people will be clamouring for your services- but I bet the price keeps getting higher. A billionaire weapons' specialist in flying armour…" She pursed her lips and frowned.
"Super-powered, flying armour," Tony put in helpfully. "That always helps to describe it. And it's not iron- just has a good ring to it"
"Riiiigghht." Laia drew the word out. "In any case, we wouldn't be anywhere on top of your list, Mr. Stark."
"But you'll still be on the list," he reminded her. "In which case, you will totally be surprised by how fast we tick 'em off."
Nearby, someone fixed his eyes on Aglaia. Red eyes glowing.
Aglaia sipped her martini. "I'll take your word for it," she said dryly.
"Seriously, though," Tony remarked. "You can just give us a call," he suggested helpfully.
"I'll keep that in mind."
After exchanging a few more words- mostly snarky banter and a battle of wits- they parted ways. The pair of eyes that had fixed themselves menacingly upon Aglaia glowed. It wasn't about to let her leave.
Aglaia made it out of the party without her bodyguards or- thank all that was holy- Eupraxia. She was still fuming about Amaja's treatment at Stavros' hands. And Stavros- and other guys- actually had the gall to cosy up to her? Aglaia didn't know how many people knew about what happened to her years before, but she wished it to be kept a strictly guarded secret.
Stavros must've found out, she thought. And tried to take advantage of it, claiming they were together. But not even a bonk on the head would ever make Laia go out with him!
Yes, maybe the words she said to him were hurtful. But he needed a good hard dose of reality if he thought going out with as many people as possible
So as Laia made her way out the penthouse and onto the street, she admitted to herself that she would never do anything of the sort had her parents been there. She adored them too much. Sure, call her pathetic, but it was Eupraxia she had a problem with, it was Stavros who dared cosy up to her without real remorse for what he did to Amaja and the others.
It was just then she heard something.
She turned. "You," she almost growled. "What do you want? What are you doing here anyway?"
The blond-haired man- another disgusting admirer whose name she had forgotten- smirked. "Simply come to collect you, princess."
Aglaia's eyes narrowed. She had met this man at the party. "I've told you, I'm not interested. No one in their right mind would be interested."
He flushed. "It seems to me," he hissed. "That you, princess, deserve to be taught a lesson."
"Don't call me that," Laia hissed. "It's either Aglaia or Laia, nothing else. And you don't get to call me Laia."
"Well then, Aglaia," his smirk returned. "There's someone who wants to meet you."
Aglaia felt her hand go backwards, searching for the hidden knife, just waiting for him to get up close.
He moved closer. "And I'm sure they'll be very interested to meet you- you have, what do you call it? An unmistakable aura of something different… Breathtaking," he breathed. "Powerful."
Creep, Laia muttered inwardly. "Well, tell them, whoever they are, that I'm not interested." She sniped back.
"It's too late for that," he hissed. That's when she noticed his eyes were red and slit-pupiled. His teeth were fangs and he had a forked tongue.
Laia barely had time to register her astonishment before he dove forwards, snarling.
She thrust up the knife. He jumped back in surprise, before lunging after her. Laia reacted on instinct, instinct that she might've forgotten, and spun behind him, before kicking him square on the back. He landed with a heavy thud on the grass.
They were in Central Park, and it looked deserted so unfortunately, Aglaia was on her own.
"Leave," she said dangerously, brandishing the knife as a warning. "Me. Alone."
He hissed and flew towards her. Aglaia did the only thing she could without even thinking about it; she grabbed his forearms kicked him in the groin, and when he doubled over in pain, used her strength to hold him tight and bash his head repeatedly on the concrete. He flailed and screeched in pain. Then some barking ensued. Laia looked up.
The distraction cost her dearly. No amount of self-defence earned from Pankration classes (yes, that's a martial art), and other martial arts could've saved her, or so it seemed. He grabbed her by her legs, bashed her down on the concrete as well and fastened his hands around her throat.
Laia gasped as he begun to choke her. She used her strength to push him away, but he fought back. There was no way to get out of this.
Or so it seemed. Because from behind him, she saw a group of figures bursting out from the shadows, a young man in black, hacking at a group of monstrous-looking hounds with- was that a sword, black as a nightmare?
Fortunately for her, her foe was distracted too. She kicked him again, when he swivelled around, kicking him until he was off her. The boy seemed to notice. He wasn't alone, she realised. A group of individuals, what looked like a family with kids, a couple of elderly people and a teen were fighting the hounds.
The guy saw her and charged forwards. Her attacker hissed, deciding he was the greater threat and they sized each other up.
"Nico di Angelo," he cackled. "Son of Hades. What a prize. My masters will be grateful."
"Well," the guy replied, holding up his sword. Laia noticed how their enemy nearly shrunk away from it. For some reason, it also gave her a sense of dread. "I sure am." He swung a strike.
In no time at all, their enemy produced a wicked-looking blade, hacked down, but splattered with droplets of blood. He met the guy- Nico's- sword in mid-swing and the two clashed.
"Get with the others!" Nico shouted. "If you want to live-" his line of conversation was cut off by a series of brutal hacks his opponent gave to him.
Aglaia bit her lip and she noticed they were fighting the monster-dogs.
"They're surrounded by monster-dogs," she reminded him.
He cursed- was that in Attic Greek? "Of course," he said sheepishly, and Laia was surprised to see a tinge of a blush on his pale cheeks. "Right in that case, stay by me-" but before he could finish, Aglaia picked up a rock and hurled it at their foe. He stumbled, nearly losing his balance, but not before Laia launched herself at him, bashing him repeatedly on the ground again.
She kicked him in the groin and began bashing him senselessly, clumsily.
"Get to the others!" She shouted. Nico blinked, seemingly in shock, then nodded, running to the others. He slashed at several of the hounds, causing them to wail as they crumbled, their essences sucked into the blade of his sword. Laia shivered inwardly, but something told her not to stop. She just kept bashing the guy in.
"Here." Nico said. He had finished the fight, she saw and stabbed him on the head. The monster wailed as it was sucked in. "Nico di Angelo," he introduced himself, helping her to her feet. "You're in grave danger."
Although Nico had killed off most of the monsters, Laia saw that someone- the father of the group had died. The elderly couple held onto the children as the mother wailed. The teen was injured.
Nico winced. "We have to get them back to camp." He said, looking at Aglaia. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head.
"Thanks for saving my life," she said, astonished. Nico grunted. "Thanks for saving mine." He whistled.
Before Aglaia could stare in astonishment, a giant, bounding figure appeared. It was a dog- one of those monster dogs that she had just seen. She tensed, ready to be attacked, but Nico shook his head. "It's alright, she's friendly. Erm-" he frowned. "Sorry, what's your name?"
"Aglaia."
"Aglaia, meet Mrs. O'Leary, the world's only friendly hellhound." Nico smiled grimly. He helped her climb. "Hop on board. The fastest way is shadow-travel," he said as he helped the survivors- and the body- "hold on tight to her collar. And I hope you don't mind if the next person behind you- me or someone else- holds onto you- tight. I should also warn you it's not pleasant for first-timers."
Deducing that there were probably more of those monster things, and too in shock to be incredulous about all this, Laia did as she was told. And then they took off, melting into the shadows.
"Holy Poseidon," Percy cursed out loud.
The campers all collapsed on their fronts, covered in soot, burns, partially or completely scorched or melted armour, and burns. The metal equipment made a series of dull clunks as they fell forwards.
Medics ran forwards and caught them. Thankfully there were a few available on hand as most of the injured were already asleep and healing. The dead had been burned. Every shroud and nearly every drachma everyone had available were used. The rest were grimly stored away for later uses.
Everyone who were still able to stand or sit up and use even a tiny part of their limbs were doing something. Percy had never seen camp so full. Apart from the ones knocked out and in desperate need of rest, everyone was doing something. They would sleep very little this night.
The spare Ares/Mars and Enyo/Bellona, Athena and some others were testing their newly mended weapons while the rest were assigned to be on guard. Some were waiting in ambush in case the monsters broke through, others like Clarisse were already on border patrol.
Everyone who could be spared took turns at border patrol. They were divided into long-range and melee, in groups of three rotating every four hours with another group. The fastest kids were also stationed, in case they needed to fetch reinforcements or camp leaders.
The Hephaestus Cabin's forge, the makeshift forges and apparently Bunker Nine were heating up- literally. The sound of hammering meant that tools were being repaired, armour mended and best of all, new weapons were on the way. Leo had arrived, bringing a whole butt-load of Celestial Bronze for the Greeks and Imperial Gold for the Romans. The children and legacy of Hephaestus/Vulcan were working as much as they could and getting more and more creative.
Pollux, the Bacchus kids, the nymphs, satyrs and the Demeter/Ceres kids- any demigod or legacy that had something to do with agriculture were growing food- through the night. Leo had made a fake portable sun that fed energy to the plants. The Apollo kids had divided up with the kids and legacies of other gods that could heal; some of them were organising healing supplies and stashing them for a quick getaway, others were designing long-range weapons with the Hephaestus/Vulcan kids. Percy had given the orders the camps were looking to him as a leader. The younger Athena kids were weaving bandages, cotton swabs and balls, extra clothes- anything for the evacuation. The problem was planning a quick evac and when and where to go.
And honestly, Percy just knew it was going to get better (Of course that was sarcasm).
They'd had a meeting, and everyone was alarmed and dismayed. Lou Ellen confessed that even with the Fleece, the camp's boundaries were going to fail. They'd be overrun. Not even the nymphs and satyrs would be safe. So, they would be transplanting the wood nymphs and Percy was trying to find a way to safely transport the naiads.
The nymphs had refused adamantly at first. There was no way in Tartarus, they said, that anyone, monster or hero, would make them leave their home. But the forest was being destroyed and the monsters were drawing closer. They were scared, and everyone knew they didn't have much time left. Most transplants couldn't make such journeys, but the Demeter, Athena and Hephaestus kids thought of a plan. If Leo could build a portable sun, he sure as Hephaestus could build an entire ship to carry nature itself. They were spending a great deal of time planning and designing. The Athena Cabin sent over some of Daedalus' remaining blueprints and designs. They were all going to need it.
"Percy Jackson," that was Lexie. Percy turned. "The nymphs have no choice but to agree. They're meeting with the ones designing the ship, like your friend Leo, to try things out. We're going to need a fleet of ships, though, like the Argo II, only bigger, much bigger. We don't have the time or resources." She took a deep breath and moved closer. "So, we have to do something."
"Like what?" Percy asked. "We're already doing everything we can."
Lexie leaned forwards. "There are more demigods and legacies in the outside world, those that survived. We can contact them."
Percy was sorely tempted. But he couldn't see how anyone could get past the camp's boundaries without making the risks even greater.
"How do we even contact them?" He asked. "How do we even-" he paused.
"You think Chiron knows where they are?" He asked.
"Possibly. Most likely some are already dead," Lexie replied, her words sending a chill down Percy's spine. "Outside of camp, they live without camp protection, and that only lasts for as long as you're a teenager."
Percy swallowed. "And the ones that survive."
"Contact them via Iris Messages," Lexie supplied helpfully. "And these." She tossed Percy something.
It was an iPhone. More than that, it was an iPhone made of Celestial Bronze. Percy stared. "How'd you make these?"
"Asked a friend," Lexie smirked grimly. "Smart one too, like your friend Leo. She figured out a way to make batteries and phones with similar apps like a mortal Smartphone. Since these are Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold, monsters avoid them like the plague. They aren't drawn to the signals at all, makes them sick. I gave your girlfriend one." She said, swinging a backpack onto her shoulders. "I can rescue anyone in a near vicinity. I wasn't always aware of my heritage. When I was a kid, running away from the gangs in East End, London, I made some friends. Some of them betrayed me. Others are the reason I'm still alive. We figured we weren't all that normal." Her beautiful, large brown eyes glinted.
Percy felt the same chill running down his spine. There was more to those words than she let on. "No, I don't think so," he said. "We're not normal."
"Exactly. Problem is, I lived in the UK. Started working for FedEx trying to scrap enough to move somewhere the mafia and the gangs can't find me. I had help though, and eventually a few campers found me when I was trying to run away at the States. No one would've found me if I stayed in the UK." She said that like a reproach.
Percy winced. "Sorry." Maybe he should speak to Chiron later, and gods about which of their kids live in different countries.
If the gods would talk back. Ever since before the war with the Giants, the gods had mostly been silent, stuck on Mount Olympus with no means of communication except for a few here and now, and that final battle with Gaea- unless you counted Apollo being kicked out of Olympus. Anger rose inside of him. Zeus had made that law and where was he when he forced one son to fix the problems of all the gods on his own after blaming him (not that Apollo wasn't responsible- but all the gods were), and then when Jason tried to help, and got killed? Jason's blood was on his father's own hands. And Percy would never forgive him for that. Ever.
Blood boiling, Percy forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Pain ran through him. It was his fault. His friend died because Percy hadn't been there. He had taken a few days off. He insisted on going on a break because he wanted a normal life. He refused to go with Apollo, forcing the former god, Jason, Grover and Piper to confront an even bigger threat than anyone could handle all by themselves.
Percy swallowed painfully again. Your fault, your fault, your fault, a malicious voice gleefully sang inside him.
Blaming himself for someone's death was nothing new to Percy. He'd been there when Bianca di Angelo died, after he made a promise to Nico that he'd protect his sister. He was there when Zoë Nightshade died. Both of them had sacrificed their lives so the team could get to safety. He remembered when Lee Fletcher, Pollux and Michael Yew had died, also sacrificing themselves in the first battle of the Titan War. Afterwards, Percy had gone on a mission with Charles Beckendorf but Kronos had been tipped off of their whereabouts. Beckendorf had been caught and blew the ship up, sacrificing himself so Percy could go back to camp and warn the others. Silena Beauregard, Ethan Nakamura and Luke Castellan had also died in sacrifice, even though they didn't believe the Olympians' law was right.
Every time someone died, Percy had been there, he had fought by their side, and always tried to help at least. He could save them, he saved many lives, but sometimes, when someone died, there was nothing anyone could do.
But when Jason died, he knew there was something he could've done.
This time the guilt, shame and grief hit harder than ever because before then, Percy had tried to do something- and there was nothing more he could do. Now there had been something- something he could've done. He could've gone with Apollo and Meg the whole way through. He could've put his dating life, his university and time with his family on hold so he could save the world. Instead Apollo had to deal with a threat so big they were the reason the Titan and Giant Wars ever began in the first place. A threat the gods didn't bother to figure out themselves. Percy had refused to go with Apollo, promising only to defend camp on the weekend- which he did- like it was a baseball match instead of a battle. And then he went home, hung out with Magnus for lunch (who had his own problems to solve), and apart from helping the Annabeth's cousin out, went back home. And then the news came that Jason had died, and this time, everything inside of him was screaming that it was Percy's fault- he could've done something.
And yet he didn't. Jason did.
Percy didn't realise he was gripping Riptide until Lexie placed a gentle hand on his arm. Startled, he looked back at her. Her brown eyes were filled with sympathy and concern, like she knew what he'd been thinking.
"Get some rest," she suggested. "If there's anyone to call, I might be able to call my old friends. I think they were demigods," she said hesitantly. "I can talk to Chiron as well- we can find some new- or old- contacts that may be able to help. There's always a way in. I'm quick, I'm fast. I can do whatever it takes."
Percy nodded mutely. He had nothing to say. His insides were still screaming at him that it had been his fault- or at least, partially his fault- that Jason was dead. He didn't even have the strength to argue with Lexie. He just walked off.
Jason was having a rough day.
He'd been knocked out by Alex with a pole during the first day, handed over to some 'trainers' to toughen him up, and kept in a pool of freezing water.
He gasped as soon as he woke up.
"Relax," that was Drypêtis' voice. She was sitting by the edge of the pool fiddling with a pile of screws and nuts. The sight strongly reminded him of Leo.
"This is part of the medical process. You've been beaten up pretty badly- for someone like you." She turned a screw. "This isn't full-on, but it's more than we get when we're out on missions. Way more. This is Bacta."
Jason struggled to blink. "What?"
"Bacta," Drypêtis repeated dryly. She placed her items on her lap on an oilcloth. "It helps the body regrow tissue, like nerves, skin, muscles." She folded the cloth. "Our healers invented the substance. I gave the name; like the one Luke Skywalker used."
Jason tried to sit up. "Lie back down," Drypêtis advised, pushing him back down gently. "It'll speed up the healing process."
Jason frowned. "What, you don't have Nectar and Ambrosia?" He managed, barely keeping his teeth from chattering.
Drypêtis snorted. "Like that would be a grand idea. Too much Ambrosia and Nectar will kill you- and miniscule amounts may sustain you but never heal you fully. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, we're cut off from the gods. We don't trust them, we don't want them finding us, so we've learned to live without."
Jason lay back down. The water- Bacta- was freezing at first, but now Jason realised it wasn't as cold as he thought it was. His body must have been getting used to it. He also noticed that it was less like water and slightly thicker, more gelatinous, almost like Jell-O, but thinner. He shifted, trying to get himself comfortable.
"Why don't you trust the gods?" Jason asked. As soon as he said it, he winced. It was a very stupid question.
Drypêtis scoffed at his question. "Why should we trust the gods? They're the ones that got us in trouble in the first place. We barely survived. Some didn't," she muttered darkly. "And all thanks to them and whatever fight they've picked with whatever enemy. We get caught in the middle. And now, we have to stay hidden to survive." She looked darkly at Jason. "Like you know don't know better than to trust them. They're the reason you died in the first place. If Alex hadn't decided to trick them and insisted on bringing you, you wouldn't be here."
Jason struggled to comprehend this. Alex, the guy who just beat him up and taunted him, saved his life. He actually insisted on keeping him safe.
"Why?" He asked.
Drypêtis scoffed again. "He feels a sense of duty, no doubt. Towards you. Everyone else wouldn't have bothered. You're a liability, Jason, a dangerous liability that could easily get us compromised and tip us off to the gods."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it," she took out another oil cloth. "If and when your father finds out about us, he will insist on blasting us on the spot because he suspects we kept ourselves hidden because we were a threat, or worse. The others would support him. You saved Olympus Jason, you're a champion of the gods. But the gods were directly or indirectly responsible for landing us in a great deal of trouble, and when we survived and escaped, we kept ourselves hidden from them. We don't trust the gods, and in all fairness, do you?"
In all fairness, he didn't. But he couldn't deny that mankind needed the gods. They thrived on Western Civilisation for thousands of years. If it all came crashing down in an instant, like when they nearly lost the Titan and Giant Wars, then it would be the end of humanity as they knew it. Jason didn't have a choice. He fought for the gods.
He fought for Rome. He fought for order, and civilisation. He really was a Roman.
Drypêtis smirked. She turned a screwdriver. "Alex confuses you."
"He did."
"Good." She answered, looking at him sternly. "You need to figure him out on yourself. I can't help you in this one. If I do, then you're really screwed. Hero of Olympus or not, you'll never survive." She turned her head. There was a bronze brazier at the corner of the room. Jason realised that they were in a room full of rectangular pools of Bacta, like the one he was in now, so cold that crystals of ice formed on top. "You almost didn't."
The reminder of how stupid he had been to get himself killed and that he now owed Alex was enough to make Jason wince.
"Just answer me this," he pleaded. "Is he my enemy? Are you?"
Drypêtis simply looked at the fire. It was a warm rosy colour, the only warm thing in a relatively cold room. Jason wondered that the fire didn't fade or increase the temperature.
"He doesn't want to be," she said quietly. "Alex doesn't give a damn about the gods. None of us do. We have no love or trust for them. They can rise, they can fall, or they can rule for a thousand more years. We don't care- I promise you, we can't care less whether the gods rise, remain or fall. We leave them be. We're not enemies… Yet. Not unless they force us to fight them and their minions directly for our survival. But demigods… We don't know. We rescue the ones that have been taken- the ones that could be saved anyway. The ones that have been forgotten, or the ones no one knows exists. Like me. We keep them safe. We don't want to be your enemy Jason. But we don't trust you."
"Well, maybe, you should." Jason suggested. He propped himself up.
Drypêtis didn't answer. She kept gazing at the fire. Above the flames, Jason noticed there was a banner with a symbol of a bearded man in heavy robes wearing a crown holding a circle in his left hand and gesturing with his right, as if teaching some invisible audience in the fabric. The bottom half of the man was encased in a pair of giant wings; outstretched.
"The Faravahar," Drypêtis said softly. "Symbol of my faith. There is one God whom I trust. One God who has never failed me." She stood and walked over to the brazier and knelt before the brazier, so she was face to face with the flames. Her hands were held up and she started chanting or singing a hymn in an ancient language: Persian, Jason thought. He also noticed that she was wearing white, an odd choice for a mechanic, Jason thought. Leo always seemed to get his clothes dirty, covered in oil, grease stains and sawdust, even when he was not in the workshop. Drypêtis continued praying. From time to time, she would take one hand and pass it over her face, like wiping it clean, and then the other hand would do the same. Her head had a white headscarf thrown over it.
When she finished, she looked back at Jason. "Some of us believe," she said softly. "An odd decision, for those that do not trust the gods, and see them as a danger. But my faith has kept me going. I prayed for you just now, Jason." She said calmly, looking at him with her coffee brown eyes, so serene and gentle, different from Khione's. "You and Alex. I pray that you both find peace and grow to realise that you should not mistrust one another. You may not want to admit it, but you need each other."
Jason managed a smile. "Thanks." He paused. "Sorry, but, what religion do you practice?"
It seemed so odd, that a demigod would have a religion. He was pretty sure she was a daughter of Vulcan or Hephaestus, or at least Athena. Demigods knew that gods exist. They didn't sacrifice chickens, bulls or- gods forbid- humans to the gods, they didn't kowtow to them or follow them blindly (or at least, Jason didn't, and neither did the demigods he knew), even though the Greek demigods did scrap part of their meal every day before they sat down to eat, and occasionally prayed for help. But they didn't worship the Greek gods like the mortals did in ancient times.
"Zoroastrianism," Drypêtis replied. "My prayers go to Ahura Mazda- the Wise Lord, Lord of the Eternal Flame. This fire I took when I last entered the Great Fire Temple in Iran. I took a stick," she admitted sheepishly. "But the Fire Temple had been stormed once, during the revolution. In case the worst should happen, I decided to save some so that the Sacred Fire remains. It has not been extinguished in over two thousand years. The priests keep tending it."
Jason thought it was a pretty long time for priests to take turns for their whole lives, stoking a fire. "Here, I build machines and mechanisms in order to keep that fire burning, though my cousin and I also consider it a great honour to keep the fire going."
"I've never heard of your religion," he admitted sheepishly. He hadn't been out of the legion a lot since he was two. And since then he had mostly been on the run, working on quests and battles to save the world from Gaea and the Triumvirate. In Camp Jupiter and Edgraton Day and Boarding School, Jason didn't learn much about religions. He knew about Christianity and Islam and Judaism, but he really didn't know much about them.
"Of course, you wouldn't." Drypêtis gave a sigh. "Once, during the Persian Empire, there were millions of followers around Mesopotamia and beyond. Now there are only a few thousand in the world. It's the world's oldest monotheistic religion, founded by the prophet Zarathrustra or Zoroaster, when he gazed into the flames and saw a vision of Ahura Mazda, the Creator, fighting against Angra Mainyu, in an epic battle between good and evil."
"Angra Mainyu is the bad guy?" Jason managed to sit up a little.
"The Great Evil, the personification and embodiment of all evil." Her mouth twisted wryly. "It's where Christians and Muslims get the idea of a great evil to counter a greater good. The Zoroastrian motto is Good Thoughts, Good Words and Good Deeds. You start with your thoughts, then you discuss this with a wise mentor or a friend. The you carry out the deed. And all shall be returned to you- somewhat like karma." She shrugged and turned away from the fire. "My family believed it for thousands of years- even when the Arabs came and forced most of the Persians to take a new religion: Islam. Ever since the fall of the Sassanid Dynasty by Arab invaders, Zoroastrians have suffered discrimination, persecution and the status of outcasts in every society. And yet we have endured." The fire burned in her eyes. "Ahura Mazda gave us strength. I endured the poverty, the grief and the torture. I will endure the wrath of the bloodthirsty, trigger-happy paranoid gods even if it means death. I have faith." She looked at Jason. "And I have friends and comrades. What do you have?"
Right now, nothing. Jason hated to admit it, but his friends didn't even know he was alive right now. Piper was gone, hopefully far away in Oklahoma where no one and nothing could hurt her, and Thalia too. He hated to think how Leo would find out that he died, just after he'd gotten back. If there was a prize for stupid deaths, Jason was sure he would've won a medal.
"Think about that," Drypêtis urged. "You can mistrust us, and let your paranoia control you, like the gods. In which case we'd all end up fighting each other, even if we saved your life. Or not."
She stood, lifting the brazier with one hand and the banner like they weighed the same as baby dolls and left, leaving Jason with his thoughts.
Alex was impressed that Lou Ellen managed to slip away for a few moments. But he was concerned on whether she had enough energy for this ritual.
"You sure about this?"
She scoffed. "Of course."
Alex restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Get ready." She told him, before turning and leaving the room.
Alex stripped off his shirt. He no longer cared if he felt cold or not- he stopped caring about trivial things like that a long time ago.
His back was littered with horrific scars; from jagged whips studded with metal spikes, to knife and machete wounds so deep you'd wonder how they managed to heal, to markings where white-hot irons had been pressed to his skin. It ran over to the front of his torso. Basically, Alex was a nightmare. His resilience to torture was what made his foes even more determined. They'd even flayed a part of him, but that was healed.
Anyone would've gone insane, Alex reflected, even if they weren't killed. But he was healed- they healed him.
He had remained sane- or so he assumed. Alex felt an ironic smirk twist his lips. He wasn't so sure.
Bare to the waist, Alex left the changing room.
The ante-chamber wasn't that large, but it was large enough to conduct this ritual. A stone table, like an altar stood in the middle. Markings, not made of chalk, decorated the perimeter, filled with symbols and markings from various cosmologies and realms belonging to different divinities or dimensions.
Not too much, but definitely not too little; they needed all they could get.
A tall figure appeared, draped in heavy parchment-coloured robes like a monk, but with intricate runes etched all over them. He had a pallid, gaunt face and a shaven head beneath the cowl. The man- if you could call it that- had his lips stitched shut with black thread, as well as his eyelids. So he appeared both blind and mute, yet Alex knew better.
Are you sure and ready to proceed? He asked him. His sewn lips may not move, but his gravelly voice echoed throughout Alex's mind.
Alex nodded calmly. "I am certain. It must be done."
Do you remember that this is merely a temporary solution? The Silent Brother asked. The older you become, the more power it takes to keep this curse at bay.
Alex looked grave. "I know. And yet it must be done. I will not be the cause of more deaths."
Someday, this will not be enough, the Silent Brother warned. Be warned, Alex. You must still find another solution.
Alex looked grim and nodded to the Silent Brother as Brother Ezekiel- that was his name- moved forwards and he went after. He flexed his shoulders as he did so, knowing that this would not be pleasant, but Alex was damn well used to this. He didn't care and sure as hell wasn't scared about the process, only that it got the job done.
Brother Ezekiel took his place in a niche, carved into a wall. The markings on the floor were not glowing yet but Alex knew they were a combination of Egyptian hieroglyphs and demotic, Norse runes, Angelic runes, faerie glyphs, Ancient Greek (and Roman) symbols and more, all etched on the stone floor. A pentagram was engraved all around the floor surrounding the table. The only light came from candles high in the wall niches.
All in all, it was the creepy setting of a powerful ritual. It even looked satanic. Several people were there, apart from Brother Ezekiel.
Alex lay down on the cold table. He relished the feel of the cold stone upon his skin, knowing that, despite the cold, he was going to feel very hot afterwards. He smiled ironically.
Drypêtis moved forwards. Huge, thick chains of Orichalcum made in a careful alloy with other magical substances (so it would not lose its potency), were threaded through hidden slots beneath the table. She looped the chains around Alex's arms, torso and legs, ensuring they were tight enough. Drypêtis patted his shoulder when she was done, moving a safe distance away.
Someone else came up to him. A beautiful young woman, as beautiful as the unparalleled beauty Aglaia, under a heavy black cape and hood. "Here we go again," Alex said.
She gave a smirk that did not reach her eyes. She was in her other aspect now, the cold one. Alex could feel the ice radiating from her very being, the personification of Winter, seeping into him. It didn't matter to him, things like this never affected him, whereas if she showed up like this in front of many people, they would somehow sense the negative energy and scoot away, just as they were drawn to the positive energy she had in her other aspect.
"I assume Brother Ezekiel has filled you in on the details?" She inquired.
"Yes," he rolled his eyes. "He did."
Her smirk widened. Her eyes were the night itself. "Then you know the drill. Just relax, let your mind go blank like you're about to fall asleep. Just remember, when you are in the most pain, your father is the one responsible for this. Just imagine kicking his behind to pay him back for all the times you've had to do this. Or better, yet, somewhere where it really hurts." She gave him one last smile, as warm as she could be when in this persona, before moving to her place.
Alex closed his eyes and allowed all tension to flow out of his body.
We shall begin, Brother Ezekiel's powerful intonement echoed in everyone's minds. A bowl was passed along with a knife. Each person, flicked their palms, and blood dripped down into the brass bowl.
Deep red, darker red, the blood dripped in varying shades. When she flicked her hand, the blood began as red, but eventually turned gold. Ichor.
After which she healed her hand by magically waving her other one over it. The skin left no scar. The wintery immortal made her way towards the chained Alex, with the bowl of blood in her hands.
She began to paint, marking his torso, arms and face with symbols in blood. Once that was done, she returned calmly back to her place. There was no time for friendly banter or good humour now. This was serious.
A slight hint of a sound echoed within the confines of Alex's mind, like a rustling wind, accompanied by an energy that was definitely not imagined. The energy current grew more powerful, more forceful, forcing its way through every inch of him. Every muscle fibre, every bone fragment, every vein and artery, every blood cell, resonated with the power that they were channelling through him. It became stronger and more forceful, increasingly so until it became painful. Still Alex made no reaction. He'd survived through worse. He wouldn't react to this, not yet.
But the energy stormed its way through him with all the power of various pantheons, divinities, semi-divine beings and magic from all beliefs and worlds. It stormed with the power and force of a Tsunami, strong enough to rip and smash through concrete that there seemed to be no way any flesh and bone would be able to withstand that. Vaguely, he heard chanting in Old Norse, and while he knew that was among the many powerful magic that would be used in him today, Alex couldn't register anything but the forceful pain, accompanied by heat so intense that it was enough to incinerate a human and kill them instantaneously without them knowing it. But Alex wasn't completely human. The chanting grew louder, much louder in volume and those involved already knew this could take several hours at most and three at least.
Alex remembered the time when he was told his grandparents were dead. From then on, he was on his own, him and his little sister trying, against all hope, to survive in the worst possible world. His mother and her various boyfriends often sought him as an outlet for their own frustrations and sadistic tendencies, or else for their sadistic sense of fun and amusement. Alex could hear their laughter, feel them drag him by his ankles, his little sister screaming, begging and even pleading for them to stop, which only earned her more laughter from the adults. He could feel the sting of the electric cable which one of them had whipped from the socket before they started whipping him. He could feel the water filling and clogging up his lungs, making his vision blur and lose consciousness as he came very close to drowning. Ironically, he hadn't been allowed near a bath or a shower until then, and the children's toilet was a bucket…
He remembered the burning iron she used on the palm of his hand. The hand was close to being infected, but his sweet little sister cleaned it out with rainwater…
They were going to die. He remembered. He just knew it.
There were no way two kids could make it out alive. He could hear the laughter of the schoolchildren as they taunted him, called him tramp, made fun of their smells, their rags their stick-thin figures and lack of food, throwing stones and rubbish at them. The teachers as they punished him for not being able to read properly, snapping and calling him worthless and stupid because they refused to recognise that they had dyslexia. He remembered his mother coming in, dragging him home, beating him with iron rods, pouring the cannister of salt down his throat because he had stolen a potato- none of the kids had eaten properly for what felt like months…
And then he remembered them… The torture, not just simple beating and brandings with iron or starvation. He remembered the flaying, the experiments-
His whole life was moulded from nothing but pain.
Alex didn't know how long he was there, or when he woke, but his eyes did focus, not long after. That was the worst bit, the memories.
And he gasped, feeling relief as air whistled through his lungs.
Alex was now lying in a bed, which he hated because it was embarrassing to be seen in a state of weakness- not to mention highly dangerous because he didn't let his defences down for anyone- except during this. Even worse, the bedspread had yellow flowers patterned all over it, like a garden threw up on him.
Grimacing he kicked it away.
"Stay." She was there, smiling gently. "You'll need it." She replaced the blanket.
Alex could feel the positive energy radiating from her seeping into his bones, feeding him life-giving strength, flooding through his weakened veins, arteries, muscle fibres, cells and more, even before his vision focused and he saw her again.
She was in her other aspect, the Spring and Summer one. Her magic, she had explained, was more powerful for that particular ritual when she was in her Winter Form.
"We had to add something extra," she explained. "Not just our blood, but something else we magically distilled inside of you. Powerful magic, items ground up to ward off curses, even an amulet that destroys the Evil Eye, among other more herbal ingredients.
Alex grimaced. "And all of you used blood to mix them all together, before putting it inside me?" He scoffed. "I've had worse."
"Clearly," she said softly. She was just as beautiful in her Summer form, but her eyes were a deep blue-violet, as clear and luminous as her cousin's.
"Here." She handed him some nutrient potions. "Drink. You need to recover your strength, so rest after this."
Alex hated feeling like an invalid. But he drank and went to sleep as advised.
Not so far away Jason Grace woke up wondering what the Tartarus it was, he had just seen.
"Percy!" Connor Stoll came running breathlessly. "We need you at the Big House."
Percy frowned, his insides knotting as he moved towards the Big House. What else could go so terribly wrong?
Chiron looked up. "Good, you're here." He was in wheelchair form. A whole group of people, campers from this camp, legionnaires, grown veteran demigods and legacies trained in both camps, satyrs, nymphs… You name them. The Big House had never been so crowded. Most people were standing.
Percy's eyes were drawn to the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, sitting on a chair, looking composed but tense as if she was overwhelmed by what had happened. Nico was standing right next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort.
Something struck Percy and resounded on the inside as he looked at this girl. As if something tied both of them on the inside, together, as if he had known her all his life, but didn't. No, there wasn't anything romantic about this feeling, but he felt like he knew her from somewhere.
As if she were a large chunk out of his life, and he had just found a missing puzzle piece he didn't even know was missing, out of his whole world.
Percy told himself to snap out of it, even if the girl's eyes, breathtakingly beautiful and so bright and clear they shamed emeralds, stared back at him as if she felt the same way. No, again, it wasn't romantic. But it was something.
"Ah, Percy." Chiron looked relieved. "There is something we must show you- all of you."
A rainbow-maker stood in the centre of the table. Chiron put a drachma in the slot and Annabeth filled it with water. "O, Iris goddess of the Rainbow," Chiron intoned solemnly. "Please show us the New York invasion."
"This happened a few days ago," Nico said grimly to Percy.
The rainbow that appeared projected a clear, visual and audio image of… Something.
"Wait- is that New York?" Percy blurted. He recognised Stark Tower in the distance.
Annabeth squinted. "What's that light?"
A bright, vivid, blue light was beaming upwards radiating from the skyscraper to the skies.
"We don't know- only it may be the start of the Mist disintegrating," Chiron confessed, exchanging dark looks with Lou Ellen Blackstone, the head councillor for the Hecate Cabin- and their most powerful magic-user.
"What's that?" Connor Stoll pointed.
What looked like the figure of a red-gold flying robot zoomed in, like on jetpacks.
"What is that?" Miranda Gardiner exclaimed.
"That's Iron Man," the new girl- answered. Percy was mildly astonished by her musical voice. "Otherwise known as Tony Stark. He saved- never mind. He was a weapons specialist and a billionaire- never mind that too."
Everyone was stunned, probably from the girl, probably from what she just said, Percy didn't know. Travis Stoll stared. "A billionaire with a flying robo-suit?"
"Dude!" Connor exclaimed excitedly. "We should totally try that! The monsters-" he fell silent by the looks on everybody's faces.
"That's his tower," Annabeth nodded as the Iron Man- whatever- flew off.
"What is he, some kind of superhero?" Mark, son of Ares, scoffed.
"Apparently." Percy stared but to everyone's shock and horror, a funnel-cloud seemed to be created where the clouds went.
"The Mist was really thick, there," Lou Ellen informed them. "Whatever it is, it's drawing Mist- see?" She pointed. Percy squinted.
"I thought that was just cloud," he admitted.
Lou Ellen shook her head. "Not cloud," she explained. "The Mist was really thick, this time the mortals were beginning to see it. That thing- that light source- was sucking it towards it."
Percy stared at her. "What for?" Lou Ellen looked grim.
"To create some kind of portal." She nodded as part of the sky where the pillar of light touched it darkened, like a splash of ink, spreading across the sky, before hollowing, growing dense.
"What the-" Katie Gardner breathed in shock. Percy felt his jaw drop as everyone was too horrified and shocked at what came next.
The image zoomed in. The hollow darkness, which was spreading across the sky- had tiny, flickering points of light within it. Slowly, at first, they began to move. And then they began to move.
What looked like metallic, horseless chariots emerged, pulling out of the hole- the portal- and taking off at full speed to the helpless city below. They were ridden by skeletal creatures the likes of which Percy had never seen before.
"Aliens?" He blurted.
"It appears so," Chiron said gravely.
"Oh, c'mon!" Travis exclaimed. "Aliens?!"
"And more." Chiron nodded to the rainbow, indicating them to keep watching.
Just then Iron Man came zooming up, firing at the aliens entering New York airspace.
"Wow, he is a superhero," somebody muttered. But everyone was mostly too in shock, too unspeakably horrified at the scene. It was one thing when you saw aliens invading in movies. It was another when it was actually happening.
Iron Man kept shooting at the aliens, firing tiny missiles at them. Explosions marred the clear blue skies. The aliens fell down to earth, as Iron Man kept battling them.
Down on the ground, people were climbing out of cars, taxis, trucks, buses and other vehicles, staring wide-eyed and in disbelief and awe at what they were seeing. It was only a matter of seconds before they started panicking.
And that was it. Iron Man couldn't get all of them on his own, or so it appeared, because they had come closer to the ground, firing at any unlucky pedestrian, while the rest screamed and ran for cover, clutching their children. Explosions shook the buildings and the ground, placing pits and craters at the concrete, while fires burned. Debris, and other items flew everywhere as panicked New Yorkers ran desperately to get out of the way.
"What-" Percy choked. "What're they doing? What are they doing to my city?!" He said angrily.
"Percy, your parents and sister are in Montauk, they've informed me," Chiron assured him. "As for the rest of yours- well, one stroke of luck is that they appear to be mostly fine."
The relief spread through the room- though it was short-lived.
"What's that on the building?!" Someone asked loudly, drawing their attention to Stark Tower.
The image zoomed in. Two figures, both wearing outlandish capes and one with a helmet with- was that horns?! Battling one another. A slimmer man in an armour of bronze and gold with a green cape- he was the one with horns on his helmet. The second guy was in metallic armour and a crimson cape, he was holding a hammer.
The first man held a sceptre, its end flashing with blue light as well, as he swung it at the second man. They watched as he shot a bolt of light at the second man which was deflected by his gigantic hammer.
"Who're they?" Someone blurted.
"Thor," Chiron said gravely. "And Loki, the sons of Odin."
Except for the explosions on the Rainbow image, you could hear a pin drop- only there was nothing. Everyone turned to stare at Chiron.
Percy stole a glance at Annabeth. Her face was white. He knew what she was thinking: Magnus.
"Odin- king of the Norse gods," The new girl stirred as if remembering something. "Thor is the god of Thunder and Strength. That makes them both equivalents to Zeus- and Athena if you count Odin. Loki is the god of Mischief, and some say, Evil." She blinked in horrified awe. "They're real."
"This is insane!" Clarisse blurted out. "Norse gods? Hello? The Romans I can get 'cause they're basically the same gods, but Norse? Vikings?!"
Nearly everyone echoed similar sentiments. Annabeth said nothing, her face starkly white.
"And yet it is so," Chiron said grimly. "They are battling above New York."
"Wait-" Clarisse held out her hand. "They're the ones that brought the aliens? Norse gods?!"
Everyone gave cries and exclamations of anger.
"Not all of them." Chiron pointed out. "Look." Everyone watched as the giant A in Stark Tower was blown off, blasting down to the concrete below.
The mortals below were running and screaming. Police cars screamed their sirens- but it wasn't like the police could do anything. What could they do against aliens and Norse gods- as weird a combo as that sounded?
The only one there was Iron Man, and he was seen zooming through the sky being chased by a couple of the aliens- no wait, that was a whole gang of them. They fired at him, missing as he did a smooth and incredible dive, blasting some buildings as they swooped towards him.
And then there was something else: some kind of jet. "A super-jet?" Connor Stoll asked, but nobody answered. It started firing at the aliens. But the guy with the sceptre- Loki- blasted at the jet taking it down. Just then, Thor tackled Loki and punched him on the face.
"So one of them is defending New York?" Annabeth asked hopefully.
"It may seem so," Chiron murmured thoughtfully, as the jet's wing started burning and billowing a trail of smoke before plummeting. It crashed into the concrete, breaking bits off and showering them everywhere, before skidding and crashing onto a building. Luckily, most of the pedestrians had run away.
A ramp opened and lowered onto the ground. Out came three figures. One guy was in brilliant blue, the other two: a man and a woman- were in black leather.
"Who are they?" Someone demanded.
"Superheroes," the new girl said dryly. "Or so they'd say."
The man in blue carried some kind of shield- an odd weapon for a mortal. The other guy carried a bow and arrow- even more strange for a mortal.
"Well, they definitely aren't average," Kayla Knowles muttered.
It was chaos on the streets. Cars, stands, café tables and umbrellas were splintered, overturned, smashed and broken. Huge chunks of concrete littered everywhere, fires burned and explosions kept happening while the few remaining mortals screamed and tried to find somewhere to hide- or got killed.
The three new 'superheroes' ran towards the bank, halting in front. They looked up at the portal, which was so big, it could've fit two Air Force Ones through.
Everyone gasped. What was taken to be another chariot, turned out to be something else.
"A monster," somebody gasped. Only this time, it seemed like a nightmare along with the aliens. It floated without wings, so large it could swallow dozens of planes and be hungry for more. Its body looked like the vertebra of a giant fish or eel, with spikes and fins. Its maw was massive and toothed with countless razors. It floated out of the sky and headed below.
Everyone was too terrified to speak. Terrified for what would happen to the city below. This was an invasion. This was a monster they had no idea of how to kill.
It floated, smashing into a fountain before the Grand Central Terminal, completely ignoring the three newcomers to float by.
Like a meteor, Iron Man shot by flying towards the monster. He followed it closely.
And just like that everyone watched.
At that very moment, Alex, Mizuki, Drypêtis, Eleana, and everyone else was watching.
"This will mean chaos," she warned just before leaving.
"So, who are they again?" Alex asked dryly.
"They call themselves the Avengers." Eleana replied.
"How inspiring," Alex drawled as he watched the man in blue- with a shield- issue out orders- or instructions- towards the rest of his gang- except for Iron Man who was still following the giant monster, watching it smash into buildings that hovered too close for its enormous body.
Just then it flattened itself onto the ground heading towards the group. A guy with ruffled hair and a button-on shirt, greyed with dust, walked calmly towards it.
"Is he insane?" Eleana questioned, eyebrows raised. "Or does he have some kind of hidden power?"
The man turned back to look at the man in blue, saying something before turning to face the gargantuan monster- only not as himself. He grew in width, breadth and length, his eyes becoming narrower, his face grimacing into a scowl which turned into a growl, his hair wild, his skin turning green before he burst out of his shirt, tearing it to shreds and peeling off.
"Special power," Mizuki stated, looking at Eleana.
The monster-man- whoever or whatever he was- smashed his fist into the gargantuan monster's snout, bringing it to a halt, even if he was pushed back a few paces. It didn't stop the tail, though. The tail of the creature went vertically upwards, unable to push forwards, while the other members of the superhero team backed away.
Sparks flickered between the spines of the creature's tail. Iron Man flew up and pointed his fist at it, firing something.
The creature was killed.
Awe and astonishment flickered throughout the room, Alex could just sense them. The aliens- having perched themselves like apes, clinging to the buildings, lifted their facial helms and screamed their outrage, while the green monster-man bellowed down below.
"Bruce Banner," he mused. "Otherwise known as the Hulk." He nodded at Iron Man. "That's obviously Tony Stark. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, master assassins and spies, Thor the Norse god-" he said the last four words like they were a filthy insult, "And Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America." He smiled grimly. "He survived the ice."
Everyone stared. "Impossible. That man was-" one of them began.
"Don't be stupid," Alex remarked without taking his eyes off the screen. "We're not supposed to exist or be alive either."
"What is he, immortal?" The guy scoffed.
"No," Alex said smoothly. "Just frozen in ice and sustained by the Super-Soldier serum that transformed him." He watched as the group of people- the Avengers- ganged up, Clint Barton nocking and arrow and pointing it, Thor getting ready to hammer something, Iron Man hovering back to the group and Natasha Romanoff reloading on bullets.
Alex's eyes narrowed. "So it's begun."
He watched expressionlessly as Captain America issued orders, and the Hulk, formerly Bruce Banner, jumped up onto the buildings smashing aliens wherever he went. He went jumping from building to building, the aliens' firepower only serving to annoy him, smashing them to bits.
Then the beam of light from Stark Tower all but exploded, gaining in power and electricity.
Alex's eyes narrowed further. "I would've thought that they would've defended their own territory at least."
Eleana shrugged and popped a chocolate into her mouth. "Apparently not."
He said nothing while he watched. More aliens poured in. The victory the Hulk had over their opponents appeared to be temporary.
Whatever it was that was lighting Stark Tower like some energy beacon, the damned Norse god was trying counter it, it seemed, climbing onto a nearby building across the street, raising his hammer to summon as much lightning until he turned the tip of the skyscraper into a beacon of lightning.
Looked like he had more guts than his own father, Alex thought disgusted. It didn't improve Thor much in his eyes, but at least he gained a measure of respect Alex didn't feel for any of the god's peers or counterparts. Lightning flashed, turning to fire and explosions of blue-silver light, incinerating the alien chariots as the creature shrieked in pain and outrage.
Iron Man appeared to still be tailed by those aliens, Alex thought, nonchalantly. The others were shooting at them- Hawkeye shot arrows without even looking, but not missing his intended targets. A chariot crashed to the ground.
"What do you think, Mizuki?" Alex asked. "Can they beat the odds?" Mizuki shrugged. "Humanity has seen worse odds, before," she said breezily. "And as ridiculous as this may seem, they are holding their own."
Alex nodded, eyes still on the screen. Just then, Iron Man zoomed out of a building, followed by an alien chariot which crashed and exploded onto the nearest building.
Eleana made a face. "That city needs a lot of cleaning up once this is finished."
"If they win," Mizuki corrected.
"They'll win," Alex said, seemingly without interest. "The invaders have seriously miscalculated the odds."
"Even with more of those-" Eleana waved a hand. "Things?"
Alex nodded. "Size doesn't always matter in a fight." He looked at the portal. "But that is what is causing the Mist to break down. Assume Emergency Protocol, Operation Theta."
Operation Theta meant withdrawing their people from everywhere so they would retreat safely underground. Eleana and Mizuki nodded, as did the rest of the group, and they filed out.
Drypêtis placed a finger on the button that signalled the start of Operation Theta- which every one of their personnel were always on alert for. This was it. They couldn't afford to risk themselves anymore, not even to save everyone. They had to cut themselves off from the outside world.
Just then, she bumped into Jason. Of all people… Drypêtis nearly cursed when she saw him.
"Drypêtis, what's happening?" Jason asked, coming closer.
"Operation Theta," she answered curtly. "We're withdrawing everyone underground and abandoning the mortal world."
Jason blinked, seemingly surprised. "Okay- why?" He looked confused.
"You'll find out later," she dismissed him as she got onto business.
Lexie looked at Lou Ellen. Both of them had received the signal.
Operation Theta. They needed no words. Unfortunately, they had already been stationed at camp. They couldn't just disappear, not when Lou Ellen was so crucial to maintaining the boundaries and Lexie was needed as a runner to help escort the survivors back to camp.
In the meantime, everyone was arguing. Chiron held out his hands. "Quieten down please!" He shouted to be heard.
Everyone fell silent.
"They attacked our turf?!" Clarisse sounded outraged. Malcolm grunted.
"And they lowered the Mist." He said, looking at Clarisse. "This was when things started to go wrong, wasn't it?"
Chiron nodded. "Yes, the Mist has begun to fail."
"Why, Chiron?" Annabeth demanded. "Why didn't the gods defend their own turf?"
"Several reasons," Chiron sighed. "One of which- they are still in lockdown."
"A damned stupid thing to do," someone growled. Thunder boomed, but everyone was too angry to care.
"The other-" Chiron shot him a warning look. "Was so as to not make things worse." Everyone gave him puzzled looks.
"As you may have deduced from this footage, Norse gods do exist in this universe," Chiron explained. "Among others."
Everyone gave a gasp at that, staring at Chiron with utmost incredulity. Chiron explained:
"I cannot disclose when the gods first made contact with their counterparts of other cultures," he began. "But I do know that despite numerous tensions and conflicts- all of which I am explicitly forbidden from elaborating- the majority of the pantheons of present, made a treaty."
"What treaty?" Lou Ellen asked.
"To stay out of each other's' territories- at least, not to show their immortal forms to the mortals present," Chiron stated. "So as to not confuse and befuddle mortals, and cause further damage, especially when the Mist appeared," Chiron explained.
"The Mist came into existence around the time of the Trojan War," he continued. "At least for us. It blinded the mortals to the power and brutality of the supernatural worlds, but it was not at its greatest strength. Over time, history became legend, and legend became myth. The Mist shrouded everything in secrets, not just in Greece and Rome, but in every realm of every divinity."
Everyone exchanged astounded glances. "Wait-" Holly Victor held up her hands. "You mean the Mist exists in their world too?"
Chiron nodded. "Of course. In the Norse cosmology, well, from what little I've been able to deduce, is that the Mist is generated by the fires of Muspelheim when they meet the Ice and Fog of Niflheim- two of the Nine Worlds of the Norse cosmology, the worlds of fire and ice."
Everyone absorbed this, still not fully believing- or comprehending- on how something this big, this major- could've been missed.
The Mist to them was an everyday thing. It shielded them from mortals, it created some pretty weird explanations as to why things happened, it proved a nuisance when questing demigods were branded as criminals, delinquents and terrorists, while also being useful when it was manipulated to change mortals' perspectives for their own safety.
They had no idea that gods from other pantheons existed, and that the Mist joined them all together.
"Wait," that was Annabeth. She, unlike the others, did know, unbeknownst to them. "If the Mist is breaking down in our world- what's happening in theirs?"
"I do not know for certain," Chiron confessed. "But I can guess. It is likely to be affected, just as it is in our world. If mortals see aliens, gods- from the Norse pantheon- and monsters from the Greco-Roman one- their eyes will be open. Seeing these group of individuals- including two gods- have forced them to accept the undeniable truth: that they live in a world of gods and monsters. Even if whatever phenomenon caused the Mist to create a portal, were removed- and it was- there is still the undeniable fact which cannot be forgotten and perceived in any way. Mortals live in mainly in the blissful ignorance of their mundane lives. Some believe; but not everyone is confronted with such truth in this matter before- always they have had the benefit of the doubt. Never would they have imagined that the supernatural would enter their lives in such a way."
"So this… Mist is disintegrating everywhere," the new girl realised. Everyone's eyes were drawn towards her- again. "And mortals know… Does this mean that-"
"We might be targeted?" Lou Ellen suggested helpfully. "After all, such an introduction-"she nodded to the Rainbow Maker. "Would hardly endear them to the supernatural." Her sharp green eyes snapped to Chiron. "Chiron if anyone suspects-"
Percy's fist clenched. "If they haven't already."
"Where'd they get the jet from?" Lexie wondered. "Some superhero-spy agency? Two of them, including the red-haired woman- they don't seem as flashy as I'd imagine superheroes to be. Probably spies or assassins."
This created a hushed whisper throughout their ranks.
"Everybody settle down," Chiron ordered. "We mustn't lose our wits, not when they're needed the most." He looked at Lexie. "You're right. But we mustn't panic over this. Not yet. For now, the mortals see monsters attacking children and their families. Suspicion has yet to fall."
"They may notice that many of them have more than one parent," Percy pointed.
"But for how long, we do not know," Chiron said. "Therefore, we must prepare." He looked at the unusually silent Leo. "How are preparations?"
Leo shrugged. He was fiddling with bits and pieces of scrap metal as usual. His eyes were rimmed red. "Oh, you know. Going good, but we could use more materials, like metal and water from the Styx-"
"I could get that for you," Nico suggested.
"And Lemnos Fire from the Forges of Hephaestus."
Nico frowned. "Much harder."
"Essence of Venti, and so forth," he shrugged, folding away his oilcloth. "That's what the Argo II ran on."
"What about Festus, and the prototypes of flying chariots?" Annabeth asked.
"Not enough," Leo shook his head. "We've got plenty of flying chariots, now, but can you imagine hauling everybody- injured, nymphs, centaurs and all- onto those chariots and Festus?" He shook his head again. "Not gonna happen."
Chiron sighed. "We must try. All our lives depend on it- and the fate of the Western World."
Everyone was grim. This was a seriously tough one.
A crazy psycho goddess and some giants, a few terrible Titans and monsters- but the mortal world? Nobody had any answers on how to deal with that without the Mist.
And not when one camp had already been destroyed and their remaining safe places seriously threatened.
To sum up: we meet a mysterious girl who shouts down Cassanovas and banters with Tony Stark- before needing rescue from Nico di Angelo. And no, she's not a Mary Sue, I've deliberately tried my damndest just keep reading. Jason recovers and contemplates learning to trust, Percy is dealing with the horrible, terrible guilt and grief that's been plaguing him since Jason died- and not very well. Alex has spies everywhere. The Heroes of Olympus are still trying to deal with what happened with Jason and everyone else since. Lexie has a suggestion, they all find out about the Avengers and the Chitauri Invasion, Alex goes through some freaky ritual which raises more questions...