I don't have a lot to say, just busy working on this fanfic.
Disclaimer: I don't own the right to Percy Jackson and the Olympians, only my OC, sadly enough. I'd be very rich tho.
Chapter 8: The Exodus Part II
Annabeth and Percy maneuvered through the gridlocked traffic, their progress hampered by the motionless cars lining the streets. The absence of engine noises added to the eerie atmosphere, as if Morpheus himself had lulled the vehicles to sleep. They weaved through the congested streets until their eyes caught sight of an unconscious courier, slumped against a brick wall, his red Vespa parked nearby.
Percy approached the courier, a tinge of remorse coloring his words. "Sorry, dude," he muttered, knowing he needed the scooter more than its owner did. With the weight of impending destruction bearing down on him, the thought of the scooter's fate paled in comparison.
With Annabeth clinging to Percy's waist, they ventured down Broadway, their engine cutting through the unsettling calm. The ringing of cell phones sporadically broke the silence, creating an odd symphony of electronic chirps echoing through the deserted city.
Their journey was slow, marred by the occasional sleeping pedestrian sprawled in front of a car. Concerned for their safety, Percy and Annabeth took the time to move them out of harm's way. They encountered a series of curious incidents along the way—a pretzel vendor's cart catching fire, a baby carriage rolling unattended, revealing only a slumbering poodle. With each obstacle overcome, they persisted, their determination unwavering.
Passing Madison Square Park, Annabeth suddenly called for Percy to pull over. Curiosity piqued, he halted in the middle of East 23rd Street, allowing Annabeth to dash towards a bronze statue on a red marble pedestal. He joined her, casting a new gaze upon a figure he had previously overlooked.
Seated in a chair with crossed legs, the statue depicted a man in an antiquated suit, reminiscent of Abraham Lincoln's era. Stacked books surrounded his chair, and he held a quill and a metal sheet of parchment. Percy struggled to recall the significance of the name etched on the pedestal.
"Seward," Annabeth corrected, her attention drawn to the base of the statue. "He was a minor demigod, son of Hebe. But that's not important. It's the statue itself that matters."
As Annabeth examined the base, Percy's mind raced with possibilities. "An automaton?" he ventured, recalling their previous encounters with the unpredictable creations of Daedalus.
A smile played on Annabeth's lips. "Turns out, most of the statues in the city are automatons. Daedalus planted them here as a contingency plan—a potential army, whether to attack or defend Olympus."
Caught between intrigue and concern, Percy questioned Annabeth's intentions. "Are you seriously considering activating it?"
Annabeth's confidence shone through. "I have Daedalus's notes. I believe I can do it." With a press of her finger against the statue's boot, Seward came to life, poised with quill and paper.
Percy couldn't help but mutter, "What's he going to do? Take a memo?"
Undeterred, Annabeth focused on the statue. "Hello, Governor Seward. Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Defend Manhattan. Begin Activation."
Seward sprang from his pedestal, his landing cracking the sidewalk beneath him. He clanked off toward the east, following a predetermined path that would likely awaken other statues.
Curiosity gnawed at Percy's mind. "Do they know we're not the enemy?"
Annabeth's reassurance came swiftly. "I believe they do."
As the implications sank in, a ball of green light burst in the evening sky, signaling Greek fire in the distance. Urgency gripped Percy, knowing they had to hurry. Together, they sprinted back to the Vespa, aware that time was running out.
Parked outside Battery Park, Percy and Annabeth prepared for their next move. Percy turned to Annabeth, instructing her to wait in the car.
"Wait here," he told her, his voice filled with determination.
"Percy, you shouldn't go alone," Annabeth protested, concern etched on her face.
"Well, unless you can breathe underwater..." Percy trailed off, knowing that his unique abilities gave him an advantage.
Annabeth sighed, exasperated. "You're so annoying sometimes."
"Like when I'm right?" Percy teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Trust me, I'll be fine. I've got the curse of Achilles now. I'm all invincible and stuff."
Annabeth still appeared unconvinced. "Just be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you. I mean, because we need you for the battle."
Grinning confidently, Percy assured her, "Back in a flash."
With that, he clambered down the shoreline and waded into the water. He knew better than to swim in New York Harbor, with its polluted waters that could have disastrous consequences for mortals. Ignoring the potential dangers, he dived into the murky depths, searching for the meeting point of the Hudson and East Rivers.
Underwater, Percy raised his voice, calling out to the river gods with a mix of curiosity and taunting. He aimed to get their attention, even if it meant provoking their anger. The currents churned, and the waters responded, revealing two giant forms before him.
The god of the East River took on the appearance of a wolfish telkhine, while the spirit of the Hudson River appeared more humanoid, dressed in rags and seaweed. Their faces contorted with annoyance and anger as they engaged in a heated exchange.
Percy interjected, attempting to divert their attention to the bigger threat at hand. He warned them of Kronos's imminent invasion, urging the river gods to use their powers to stop the enemy forces. Initially skeptical, the river gods' demeanor changed when Percy revealed the sand dollar his father had given him.
The river gods recognized the power of Poseidon within Percy and were enticed by the prospect of reclaiming their purity. Percy struck a deal, offering each of them a half of the sand dollar in exchange for keeping Kronos's forces away from Manhattan. Reluctantly, they accepted the offer, their eyes filled with a mix of longing and gratitude;
As Percy made his way back to the surface, the river gods fulfilled their part of the bargain, sinking the invading forces. They bid him farewell, hinting at the futility of the Curse of Achilles. Unbeknownst to them, Percy carried a burden far greater than they could imagine.
"Curse of Achilles," Hudson scoffed. "They always think that'll save them, don't they?"
"If only he knew," East added, their laughter echoing in the water before dissipating.
With the task accomplished, Percy resurfaced, his mind focused on the battle ahead. The river gods had been temporarily appeased, but he knew that the real challenge lay in defending Olympus and ensuring the survival of both demigods and gods alike.
Back on the shore, Annabeth's hands trembled as she clutched her cell phone, her conversation cut short upon catching sight of Percy. The gravity of their situation etched deep lines of worry on her face.
"It worked," Percy announced, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and determination. "The rivers are safe."
A flicker of hope sparked in Annabeth's eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by a somber realization. "Good," she replied, her tone heavy with concern. "Because we've got other problems." Her voice quivered slightly, betraying the weight of the news she was about to deliver. "Michael Yew just called. Another army is marching over the Williamsburg Bridge. The Apollo cabin needs help."
Percy's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing to process the implications. The name that escaped Annabeth's lips chilled him to the core. "And Percy, the monster leading the enemy . . . it's the Minotaur."
Fortunately, Blackjack was on duty. I did my best taxicab whistle, and within a few minutes two dark shapes circled out of the sky. They looked like hawks at first, but as they descended I could make out the long galloping legs of pegasi.
Yo, boss. Blackjack landed at a trot, his friend Porkpie right behind , I thought those wind gods were gonna knock us to Pennsylvania until we said we were with you! "Thanks for coming," I told him. "Hey, why do pegasi gallop as they fly, anyway?"
Blackjack whinnied. Why do humans swing their arms as they walk? I dunno, boss. It just feels right. Where to? "We need to get to the Williamsburg Bridge," I said. Blackjack lowered his neck. You're darn right, boss. We flew over it on the way here, and it don't look good. Hopon!
On the way to the bridge, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. The Minotaur was one of the first monsters I'd everdefeated. Four years ago he'd nearly killed my mother on Half-Blood Hill. I still had nightmares about that.
I'd been hoping he would stay dead for a few centuries, but I should've known my luck wouldn't hold. We saw the battle before we were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.
We came in for a low pass, and I saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, buildingfiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's way.
But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx ofdracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched behind them.
Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to know.
"There!" Annabeth called from the back of her pegasus. Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was Old Beefhead himself. The last time I'd seen the Minotaur, he'd been wearing nothing but his tighty whities. I don't know why.
Maybe he'd been shaken out of bed to chase me. This time, he was prepared for battle. From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear—a kiltlike apron of leather and metal flaps, bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull—hair and hide and muscle leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns.
He seemed larger than the last time I'd seen him—ten feet tall at least. A double-bladed axe was strapped to his back, but he was too impatient to use it. As soon as he saw me circling overhead (or sniffed me, more likely, since his eyesight was bad), he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.
"Blackjack, dive!"I yelled. What? The pegasus asked. No way could he . . . Holy horse feed! We were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward us, flipping fender over fender like a two-ton boomerang. Annabeth and Porkpie swerved madly to the left, while Blackjack tucked in his wings and plunged. The limo sailed over my head, missing by maybe two inches. It cleared the suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.
Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car. "Drop us behind the lines with the Apollo cabin," I told Blackjack. "Stay in earshot but get out of danger!" I ain't gonna argue, boss! Blackjack swooped down behind an overturned school bus, where a couple of campers were hiding.
Annabeth and I leaped off as soon as our pegasi's hooves touched the pave-ment. Then Blackjack and Porkpie soared into the night sky.
Michael Yew ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen. He had a bandaged cut on his arm. His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.
"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?" "For now, we're it," I said. "Then we're dead," he said. "You still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked. "Nah," Michael said."Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing."
"Least you tried," I said. Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!" He drew an arrow and launched it toward the enemy. The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew.
When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's largest speak-ers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot.
"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said. "A gift from your dad?"I asked. "God of music?" Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."
Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion. "We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."
"No," I said. "Bring your campers forward to this posi-tion and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."
Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?" I drew my sword. "Percy," Annabeth said, "let me come with you."
"Too dangerous," I said. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the mon-sters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."
Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot." I kept my eyes on Annabeth. She nodded reluctantly."All right. Get moving." Before I could lose my courage, I said, "Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?"
I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us. "Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see." I figured it was the best offer I would get, so I stepped out from behind the school bus. I walked up the bridge in plain sight, straight toward the enemy.
When the Minotaur locked eyes with Percy, his gaze burned with unbridled hatred. He let out a thunderous bellow, a guttural sound that combined a yell, a moo, and an obnoxious belch.
"Hey, Beef Boy!" Percy shouted back, unfazed by the beast's intimidating presence. "Didn't I kill you already?"
In a fit of rage, the Minotaur pounded his fist into the hood of a nearby Lexus, causing it to crumple like a flimsy piece of aluminum foil. A group of dracaenae hurled flaming javelins at Percy, but with swift reflexes, he deflected them away. A hellhound lunged towards him, but Percy chose not to strike.
Reminding himself that this was not Mrs. O'Leary, his loyal canine companion, but an untamed monster, Percy knew that hesitation could be deadly for him and his friends.
The hellhound pounced again, and this time, Percy swung his blade, Riptide, in a deadly arc. The hellhound disintegrated into a swirling cloud of dust and fur. Despite his victory, more monsters lurked, including snakes, giants, and telkhines. However, the Minotaur roared at them, asserting his dominance, and they reluctantly backed off.
"One on one?" Percy called out with a hint of challenge in his voice. "Just like old times?"
The Minotaur's nostrils flared, his wet and reddened nose needing constant attention. Percy couldn't help but think that the Minotaur should carry a pack of Aloe Vera Kleenex in his armor pocket. Nevertheless, the Minotaur unstrapped his imposing axe and swung it around, a gruesome yet captivating sight.
The axe was a brutal work of art, beautiful in its menacing nature. Each of its twin blades resembled the Greek letter omega — an O — the final letter of the Greek alphabet, symbolizing an end. And indeed, the axe was often the last thing his victims would see. The shaft matched the Minotaur's height, crafted from bronze and wrapped in leather. Strung around the base of each blade were numerous bead necklaces, the trophies of defeated demigods, taken from Camp Half-Blood.
Percy's anger surged, his eyes seemingly glowing with a fierce intensity, mirroring the Minotaur's own fiery gaze. He raised his sword high, preparing to face off against his formidable opponent. The monster army roared with anticipation for the Minotaur's victory, but their cheers fell silent as Percy deftly dodged the first swing and sliced the Minotaur's axe clean in half, separating it between the hand-holds.
"Moo?" the Minotaur grunted, his anger evident in his eyes.
"HAAA!" Percy spun swiftly, delivering a powerful kick to the Minotaur's snout. The beast staggered backward, struggling to regain its footing. Determined to press on, it lowered its head, preparing to charge.
But before the Minotaur could make a move, Percy's sword flashed with deadly precision. One swift strike sliced off the creature's horns, followed by another that severed the other horn. The Minotaur reached out, attempting to grab Percy, but the demigod rolled away, swiftly picking up half of the monster's broken axe.
A stunned silence fell over the other monsters, forming a circle around Percy and the disoriented Minotaur. Roaring in a mix of rage and confusion, the Minotaur charged once more, its fury blinding its already limited intelligence. Meanwhile, Percy dashed towards the edge of the bridge, skillfully breaking through a line of dracaenae.
Believing Percy was trying to escape, the Minotaur smelled victory. Its minions cheered, confident in their imminent triumph. Yet, at the precipice of the bridge, Percy abruptly turned, bracing the axe against the railing, prepared to face the Minotaur's charge head-on. The Minotaur, heedless of the impending danger, barreled forward without hesitation.
With a resounding crunch, the Minotaur collided with the axe handle, his breastplate meeting its demise. Surprise flickered in the Minotaur's eyes as he realized his fatal mistake. "Thanks for playing," Percy quipped, his tone laced with a mix of satisfaction and sarcasm.
Lifting the defeated monster by its legs, Percy effortlessly tossed the Minotaur over the side of the bridge. In a swift descent, the creature disintegrated into dust, its essence returning to the depths of Tartarus from whence it came. Turning to face the remaining army of monsters, Percy found himself overwhelmingly outnumbered, with a mere one hundred and ninety-nine foes against him.
A smirk played across Percy's face as he assessed the odds stacked against him. Undeterred by the vast difference in numbers, he made a decision. Charging forward with unwavering determination, he confronted the daunting army, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.