Hello there, gods, half-bloods and friends. Welcome to the next chapter of The God Hunter.
Forgot to mention it at the author notes on the previous chapter, but Fratziano from the Guardians Cinematic Universe is a running gag in my stories. It's basically an Superhero story but with Disney characters as superheroes framed after heroes from DC and Marvel.
Wanted to do a story like that but it's far down on my work order.
Anyways hope your going to enjoy and now on to the story.
The RV's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. "Okay, if I don't say it now, I'll regret it forever." Matt said, "Patrolling the Mojave almost makes you wish for a nuclear winter!"
As they drove, Percy told them about his latest dream, but the details got sketchier the more he tried to remember them.
"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested, "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."
"Maybe..." Percy said, though neither sounded quite right.
"That throne room sounds like Hades's." Grover said, "That's the way it's usually described."
"Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream." Percy said shaking his head, "And that voice from the pit... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."
Annabeth's eyes widened, "No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong..."
"Like what?"
"I—I don't know. But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong." she said, "So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."
Matt gave a side glance, he wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but she looked pale.
"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt." Percy said, "Why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"
"To threaten Hades." Grover suggested, "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."
"Good suggestion." Matt said, "It's what I would do if my dad was taken."
"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items." Percy said, "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"
Grover shook his head, clearly mystified.
The RV sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead.
At sunset, the RV came to a stop at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.
"So what's the plan?" Matt said.
The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. As they deliberated, Percy suddenly walked off and went for a dive, ignoring Matt and Annabeth calling after him. After some time he came back, when he reached the beach, his clothes dried instantly. He told Matt, Grover and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls.
Annabeth grimaced, "No gift comes without a price."
"They were free." he said.
"No." she said as she shook her head, "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."
"And on that happy note, let's go." Matt said.
Taking the RV into West Hollywood. Matt asked a few people about the Underworld address slip taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but it seemed nobody had ever heard of DOA Recording Studios.
They drove the RV for miles, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was and it didn't appear in the phone book either. They passed by an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody very familiar to Percy, his my stepdad, Smelly Gabe.
"That is your stepdad?" Matt said surprised, "How he managed to land any woman is a mystery that the most advanced super computer thousands of years from now still won't be able to figure out."
He was talking to Barbara Walters. She was interviewing him in their apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.
A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife... my Camaro... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."
"There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera, "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."
The screen cut to a grainy shot of Matt, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.
"The blonde young man has been confirmed to be the same one who set fire to the Gateway Arch." she said, "But who are the other children in this photo? Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."
"C'mon." Grover said, he hauled Percy away.
It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. L.A. had a total different vibe from New York.
L.A. was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. They walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at them like they were trying to figure if they were worth the trouble of mugging. As they hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."
Like an idiot, Percy stopped.
Before they knew it, they were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled them, six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Rich brats playing at being bad boys. As the all white gang surrounded them, their apparent leader brandished a switchblade from his pocket, "Put your hands up." he said.
"No." Matt said much to their confusion.
"Why not?" the thug said.
"I don't want to." Matt said.
"B-But..." the thug said, "I got a knife."
"I don't care." Matt said.
"Wha... But..." the thug said just as confused as his friends, "Doesn't make any sense!"
"Well, too bad!" Matt told him just as they heard an engine rev up.
Their attention was drawn to the road as a dark green colored 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429 stopped and the door was thrown open and Matt saw a tall woman coming out of the car.
She had dark skin and dark brown, chin-length hair on both sides of her face. Her eyes were of a sky deep blue color. She wears a white sweater with a large turtleneck collar, a black skirt, black pantyhose, and dress shoes. Additionally, she wears a faded green coat and black leather gloves.
"How about you kids run along." she said, cracking her knuckles as she turned her attention tot eh wannabe gangsters.
The leader of the gang, being too stupid, took a a swipe at her but he missed. He tried it several times but every time he struck, she simply wasn't there. With one last swing, she caught his arm mid swing, before twisting it back making him drop the knife as the leader screamed in pain.
The rest of the gang look deadly afraid as she sent them running with a single glare before their supposed leader scrambled after them, not sure how fast they should get away from the woman.
"Don't worry about your wrist. Put some ice on it and it should be good in a week or two." the woman shouted after to the retreating gang, "Or not, I'm not a doctor."
Matt noticed that she spoke with an Israeli accent, her tone was also noticeably lower than those of other women, giving Matt the feeling this woman is a lot more dangerous than she is letting on.
"You shouldn't be out so late. This is not a city of angels." the woman said turning to the four, "These streets are dangerous, even for three half-bloods and a satyr."
That one sentence put the four extra on guard, exchanging a glance with each other not sure what to make of this woman.
"Yes, I know. Though it's been a while since I've met a Child of Poseidon." she said, indicating Percy, "It's always pleasant to meet a Daughter of Athena."
"Okay, so you know us." Matt said suspiciously, "What does that make you?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you... Child of Hera?" the woman said but before a second, there was a glance of recognition in her blue eyes when she gave Matt a better look, "Can honestly say that's a first."
"Yeah, I'm special." Matt said, crossing his arms, "Still haven't told us who you are."
"Gabby Amenadiel." she said her eyes studying Matt's face, "Now tell me Child of Hera. What brings you and your friends to the city of angels?"
"A quest." Percy said, "So we really need to get back to..."
"Yet you don't know the address to the Underworld." Gabby said casually, reaching into her pocket to take out a notepad, "Don't be surprised, Son of Poseidon, it was an educated guess. There aren't many reasons for half-bloods of Olympus to show up in Los Angeles."
She flipped it open and scribbled something down before ripping the paper out and handing it to Matt. She reached into her pocket and pulling out a baseball before handing that to him as well.
She walked back to her car, rolling the window down as Gabby looked at them, "Be well heroes." she said, "Because it isn't going to get easier." before she drove off.
Looking until the Ford Mustang had turned a corner, Matt looked at the address as the others talked.
"Well..." Grover said, "She seems interested."
"Yeah, in Matt." Percy said.
"I'm thirteen, she's like twenty something." Matt said as he looked up, "Let's get back to the RV, and be ready. Because the Underworld, is only a block from here."
The RV stood parked in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, the group stood looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA Recording Studios. Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: No solicitors. No loitering. No living.
It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.
"Okay." Percy said, "You remember the plan."
"The plan." Grover gulped, "Yeah. I love the plan."
Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"
"Don't think negative."
"Right." she said, "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."
"Let's just go." Matt said, hands in his pocket, "We got a master bolt to get and a mother to save. Easy peasy, bob's your uncle."
He led the way into the DOA lobby. Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken.
There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.
He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.
"Your name is Chiron?" Percy suddenly said.
He leaned across the desk. Nothing could be seen in his glasses, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.
"What a precious young lad." He said, speaking in a strange accent, "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"
"If I squint my eyes and tilt my head just right." Matt said, crossing his arms as he tilted his head, "Can you help us get to the Underworld?"
Charon's mouth twitched, "Well, that's refreshing."
"It is?" Annabeth asked.
"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked them over, "How did you die, then?"
"Bus crash." Matt said, "Some old ladies went crazy or something."
"I don't suppose you have coins for passage." Charon said, "Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... Alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."
"Oh, but we have coins." Percy said as he set four golden drachmas on the counter.
"Well, now..." Charon said, as he moistened his lips, "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."
His fingers hovered greedily over the coins then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now." he said, "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"
"No." Percy said, "I'm dead."
Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling." he made a growling sound deep in his throat and immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.
"Leave while you can." Charon told them, "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."
He started to go for the coins, but found the tip of a silver-colored longsword. Charon growled again, a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.
"No service, no money." Matt said as he pointed with his sword, "I guess the H-man doesn't pay you enough, am I right?"
"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day?" Charon said, "Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"
"Of course not, and it looks like a very nice suit." Matt said, "Tell you what, you let us in and I'll mention a pay raise with the H-Man."
He sighed, "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off." he said before he stood, scooping up the money, "Come along."
Matt send the others a smirk as his sword disappeared before they pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at their clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things that couldn't be made out.
Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."
He escorted them into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with them and pushed them back into the lobby.
"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone." he announced to the waiting room, "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"
He shut the doors, before putting a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and they started to descend.
"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.
"Nothing." Charon said.
"For how long?" Annabeth said.
"Forever." Charon said with a shrug, "Or until I'm feeling generous."
"Oh." she said, "That's... fair."
Charon raised an eyebrow, "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait, until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."
"Please, we got an immoral with us." Matt said with hands in his pockets, "We'll be fine."
There you go, hope you enjoyed. Many thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, favorite, or follows this story.
Take care of yourself, drink plenty of water and I will see you people next time.