Arrivals
The yapping is over. The story begins now.
I am a little surprised no one had anything to say about Annabeth working at McDonald’s. I was looking forward to that.
Disclaimer: I don’t own PJO or any other crossovers
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Naglfar was about to break the dimensional barrier and crash straight into Hote Valhalla’s outer wall because of the weird way dimensional barriers worked, but something crashed into Naglfar. From above.
A small object dropped right onto the deck almost at the nose, smashing through top two decks and landing upon the third with so much force that the nose dipped downward. Loki set his feet and was able to keep himself from stumbling, though most of the crew was not as fortunate.
“What the hell was that!?” the mischief god demanded.
He got his answer when the offending object’s head popped out of the hole it had made when it fell through the deck. It was a boy of the mid-teen years, with black hair and purple eyes. He crawled all the way out of the hole, a big, toothy grin on his face. He wore some old steel-toed boots that had seen better days, black jeans, no shirt, exposing his skinny, scar-littered torso, and a fur-lined, black, sleeveless denim jacket that went down to his knees, which exposed his skinny, scar-littered arms. There was a pendant hanging from his neck that depicted a triangle inscribed within a circle, and he had a ring on each thumb.
The absolute most disturbing feature of this young man was the scalpel currently plunged into the side of his neck. It appeared he had punctured an artery, based on how much blood was flowing down from the wound.
The boy grinned some more. “Well butter my ass and fuck me raw! Fresh sacrifices!”
Loki was a bit disconcerted with that one, and started freaking out when the boy yanked out the scalpel and mauled the monster closest to him.
“Get him! Get him!” Loki shouted.
One monster got in close and brought down its axe on the boy’s head, cleaving his skull open in a spray of blood.
“Ha! Got him!”
The boy casually reached up and pulled the axe out of his skull, exposing the inside of his head in gruesome fashion. The monster backed away in horror.
“That felt good.” The boy handed the axe back. “Do it again.”
The gaping wound glowed with scarlet energy, and when the energy faded, his head was completely healed.
Loki saw this from the helm, and felt his immortal blood chill in his veins. Even the playing field, Chaos had said.
This must’ve been it. Chaos’s first player.
Or at least, the player Loki had to contend with. As he hefted the huge battleaxe he took from Hrym and jumped, sailing through the air at the boy to fight him personally, Loki wondered what his comrades were facing.
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Reyna growled as Orion’s huge finger, being ten feet tall and having the hand to match his size, tilted her chin up to raise her face.
“Couldn’t take me in a fair fight, and so you had to resort to an ambush with friends?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Orion said. “We’ll have our rematch soon enough. After the dust settles, the whole Hunt will be mine to do with as I please.”
“And mine,” Lycaon stepped up.
“We’ll take turns,” Orion dismissed.
The Hunters were all down and bound. Khione had hit them with a freeze wave, and the werewolves had charged in, keeping the girls pinned while Khione had turned the Hunt into popsicles, only their heads left unfrozen per Orion’s request so he could see the fear and anger on their faces.
“And then there’s you,” Orion walked up to the weak and feeble Artemis.
“Don’t touch her!” Thalia shouted.
Lightning flashed overhead, and before anything else happened, there was a huge splash in the lake nearby, as if someone had dropped a tank in from low orbit. The Hunters had been camping on the bank, enjoying some fishing the previous day.
Everyone stared at the roiling water, illuminated by the starlight due to the cloudless sky. It was clear by the expressions on the Hunters’ faces that they didn’t know what was going on. The werewolves started shifting and growling, with Lycaon’s lips curling back into a snarl.
“Lycaon?” Khione asked.
“Something…is coming. Something that is very dangerous. Very primal. A rival.”
Khione looked at Orion, and the Giant had no idea. He pulled out his bow and knocked an arrow, aiming for the settling water, and the snow goddess readied her powers, raising her hands, snow swirling around her fingers. The Hunters also watched, their breath baited.
Sure enough, something did come walking out of the water. A translucent, almost invisible silhouette emerged, and with every step it took, arcs of electricity travelled across its body.
Reyna blinked and leaned over to Thalia. “This feels like that scene from Predator 2 when the Predator came for King Willie in the alley.”
“Uh…” Thalia’s face screwed up, wondering how Reyna was able to draw that connection at this time.
“What is that?” Khione asked Orion
“No idea. Let’s ask.”
Orion loosed the arrow, and it flew with speed comparable to a bullet, only to come to a complete, dead stop before the translucent being with a loud smack. With another flurry of arcs, the silhouette became solid as its cloaking device deactivated, revealing that she had caught Orion’s arrow by the shaft.
“What the Hades…?” Khione said to herself, but her thought was shared by everyone.
It was a girl, or perhaps young woman, really. She had no chest, but there was the distinct slit between her legs. She was tall and built like a sprinter, with lithe limbs and a slender body, a body that was an unnatural, solid black. A long, segmented, bladed tail protruded from her lower back above her glutes, and between her shoulder blades were two sets of dorsal spikes, six to a set, all angled outward. The sclera of her eyes was black, her pupils were vertical slits, and her irises were a bright, venomous green. Upon her brow was an ornate crest that went over the top crown of her head, appearing to be just that, a crown.
On her left wrist was a bracer that looked exactly like the one the Predators had, making Reyna and Thalia briefly look at each other.
The creature examined the arrow in her hand, looking at it with clear nostalgia on her face. Then her lips quirked upwards in a smirk, showing a sliver of her teeth—so pearly white they were almost see-through.
One of the werewolves couldn’t take it anymore and broke ranks, charging at the creature.
She responded by letting the arrow slide further down in her hand, and then she flung it. She flung it so hard and fast that it not only went straight through the charging werewolf with hardly any loss of speed and energy, but it also went through the stationary werewolf a hundred feet behind it, this time getting stuck and taking the beast on a flight.
Lycaon howled and led the charge himself, his pack coming with him. Orion and Khione were both disgruntled by this, as they didn’t necessarily want to wipe out the pack.
Not that the pack was going to survive anyway.
The creature intercepted Lycaon and ripped his spine from his body, his head still attached to the dripping vertebrae. Tossing both aside like they were garbage, she dove straight into the midst of the werewolves, using her claws, tail, teeth, and horrifying physical strength to tear the beasts apart in a grizzly display of combat prowess and gore.
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“How could the Mist not be working?” Calypso pondered.
In the main living room of the Waystation, she, Leo, Jo, and Emmie were gathered, the kids all having been sent to bed a long time ago.
“Something must have happened to my mother,” Jo said. “Something similar to this happened back during the witch trial days, when the witches were being persecuted. Granted, they weren’t doing themselves any favors back then, what with actually stealing babies, murdering children, spreading plagues, and so on, but anyway—when Hecate’s followers started being systematically eliminated, it affected her so badly the Mist went on the fritz.”
“But there aren’t any mass witch burnings going on today,” Leo blinked. “At least, I think there aren’t.”
Jo shook her head. “The witches got a lot better at staying hidden. If the Mist isn’t working now, then that means something really bad has happened to Hecate.”
A cold feeling settled in all their stomachs. The implications of the magic goddess potentially being targeted by some unknown enemy, and apparently having been incapacitated, were monstrously unwelcome.
Leo took a breath. “Okay. Say something has happened to Hecate. What are we supposed to do-?”
Something fell through the ceiling and crashed upon the table between the four, sending them all jumping backwards. Whatever it was stood up with an annoyed grunt.
It was a man, a big one. Tall, with the physique of a strongman. Just big, rolling muscles. He wore a black kilt made of some kind of hide—some kind of leather—with a wide, jewel-studded belt holding it in place with a huge buckle in the visage of a snarling dragon. Black boots covered his feet and legs above his ankles, dark gold grieves on his shins, and dark golden gauntlets were upon his arms, the segments upon his fingers and knuckles bearing small, serrated spikes. On his upper torso was an armor piece that Leo likened unto the piece that Bayek of Siwa wore in Assassin’s Creed—something like ancient shoulder pads that covered the upper chest and back, and of course the top of the shoulders. The armor was gold, of course, with more jewels, and attached to the back of the piece was a leather cape of the same hide as the kilt. The helmet the stranger wore was definitely the most interesting item in his ensemble, also being gold, the front being left open so his whole face was visible, with the top being fashioned in the likeness of the top half of a dragon’s maw, with glittering rubies in the eye sockets, the mouth extending slightly past his face somewhat like a baseball hat. The back of the dragon’s head flowed seamlessly into a pair of ivory tusks that curved forward, framing the stranger’s face on either side of the helmet.
Speaking of the stranger’s face, barring his mismatched eyes of left silver and right sea green, he was the spitting image of an older, stronger, manlier-
“P-Percy!?” Leo gaped.
Not-Percy looked over at Leo, and his expression curled into one of annoyance. “Ugh, it’s you. The annoying Mexican elf. Though you’re older now, which I suppose means-”
Not-Percy cut himself off, head jerking to a random direction. His expression then morphed into one of glee.
“Ahhhhh, yes. This. I was beginning to get bored, anyway.”
He stepped out of the small crater he had made when he crash landed, and started walking for the door.
Leo and Calypso scrambled to catch up to him, walking on either side of his muscular frame.
“Dude, what happened to you? What the heck are you wearing? When did you get so buff?”
Not-Percy smirked, but didn’t answer. He just kept walking at a brisk face for the door.
Calypso tried her luck. “What did you mean by this? Do you know what’s going on with the Mist?”
“Indeed.”
“What, then?”
Not-Percy opened the door to the Waystation revealing pandemonium. Two gigantic creatures, both solid black like the night sky above them but with glowing, scarlet eyes, one of them looking like a Spinosaurus but with three tails, two heads, and four huge arms, spewing flames from its mouths, and the other monster looking centaurion, but with a gorilla upper torso and a scorpion body instead of human and horse.
The monsters were wreaking untold havoc, death, and destruction, with emergency sirens blaring, the bad weather siren blaring, and the screams of tens of thousands of people splitting the night.
Leo and Calypso were beyond horrified, as were Jo and Emmie, finally having made their way over, while Not-Percy had the widest smile on his face.
“Behold,” he said, “the end of your world as you knew it. I hope it was enjoyable while it lasted.”
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At the House of Life in Egypt, the First Nome, chaos abounded. The magicians had been caught completely flatfooted—not that it was at all their fault, as who among them could have possibly predicted that the new god Setne would just smash straight through the Duat with his demon army and invade the House?
Given that he was a literal god now, and packing thousands of years of magic experience on top of the added power of Apophis, Setne rendered the magicians effectively powerless, and dozens were effortlessly slaughtered by the demons.
Even the great Chief Lecter Amos Kane was no match for Setne, even when using the crook and flail of Ra. Setne defeated Amos personally, and it took him only a few seconds because he wanted to enjoy the moment.
Bound in magic chains, Amon could barely groan in pain from the beating he received, and the spells upon the chains setting his nerves on fire.
Setne held up the crook and flail. “Not that I really need these, but they are pretty neat. Now, just what to do with you…”
Just then, the House of Life was rocked, and it wasn’t by anything Setne or his forces did, nor was it anything Amos’s magicians managed.
“What in the-”
A wall was blasted to pieces, along with the towering columns behind it, with pieces of demons getting scattered all over amongst the rubble.
Stepping through the recent renovation to the throne room was a young man wearing an almost entirely black outfit. Black steel-toed boots, black jeans, and a black leather coat that was tight across his chest and arms, a number of buckles on the chest closing the coat, with the coat being split into two tails at the back of the waist. The coat came with a hood that was drawn up, and due to the flickering flames and the way he was holding his head, the top half of his face was shrouded in shadow.
On each of his forearms was an armored, gadget-adorned gauntlet, a belt was around his waist sporting two curved horns on either hip, and peeking over his right shoulder was the wooden stuck of an old rifle, looking 18th century in make. In the man’s right hand was a slender straight sword with a cross guard made to vaguely resemble wings, and a pommel that resembled the abstract profile of an eagle. In his left hand was a bronze Greek sword that Setne and Amon both recognized as the legendary Riptide, sword of-
“Percy Jackson?” Setne blinked.
“Something like that,” the young man answered, which was confusing to Amon, but clued the new god into something.
Evening the playing field.
Setne decided to forgo questions, and merely attacked. With a thought, he cast a spell, causing a string of angry red hieroglyphs to go flying at Percy. The spell would’ve caused his molecules to erupt in flames, except Percy swung the eagle sword, and cut the hieroglyphs in twine, dispelling the magic.
Setne balked. “Excuse me!?”
“An Egyptian magician,” Percy mused. “It’s been quite some since I’ve run into one of you.”
Another thing that caught Amos and Setne’s attention. Setne had been there about five years ago the first time he had tried to become a god, and of course the Kane siblings had told their uncle about the incident, so they knew Percy had been involved, but the way he spoke, he sounded like a wistful old man recalling his high school adventures from several decades ago. Yet another thing that through the Egyptian’s for a loop was how casually Percy had destroyed Setne’s spell—Setne’s spell, the Setne that was a full-fledged god now, with all the power of Apophis to boot—and relegated Setne to just “an” Egyptian magician.
“Who are you?” Setne demanded. “You are not the Percy Jackson I fought on Governor’s Island.”
“Correct. I suppose you could say I’m Percy Jackson if things had been different than whatever happened in this world.”
“This world—you’re from a different dimension. A parallel Earth.”
“Correct. What that means specifically for you, right here, right now, is that you’re in a lot of trouble when it comes to fighting me.”
Setne readied the crook and flail. “And why would that be?”
Percy started advancing on the new god.
“Yae though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for You are with me...”
Setne paled. He was from Ancient Egypt, yes, but he was born in 1281 BC, while the Exodus happened in 1440 BC, meaning the days in which Yahweh came down and kicked Egypt’s ass were before Setne’s time. Still, even he knew the power of the Lord, and knew what happened to the magicians who had faced the Lord’s prophet so many centuries ago.
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In tandem with the arrivals, Piper’s spirit army was on the move. The demigods that found themselves under attack across the United States soon found themselves aided by creatures of shapes and sizes that brought with them a message, “I am an ally of Piper McLean. She sent me to help you.”
Annabeth was particularly beyond words when the spirits intercepted her convoy and told her that after getting her to safety.
“Now that we have that out of the way…what the fuck is going on!?” Annabeth couldn’t stop her terrified shout.
The spirit regarded her. “It’s the end of the world. Tartarus has unleashed his armies across the planet, and billions have already perished. The magician Setne has invaded the House of Life in Egypt, and the mischief god Loki is sailing Naglfar into the waters of this Midgard. The underlings of the Triumvirate have used their resources to kidnap Hecate and do to her what the original emperors did to Harpocrates: they used her as the centerpiece of a machine that amplified her powers on a global scale, and using this, the enemy caused a mass Mist warp, turning mankind into their slaves. You are not the only one under attack. However, Piper has foreseen this day coming for months, and she has mobilized us.”
Annabeth’s knees buckled, and she barely caught herself on her hands. “O-Oh….Wait, what about my parents? My dad-”
“Already handled.”
Annabeth’s eyes went wide and a new thought brought fresh terror. “What about New Rome!? If Tartarus-”
“It’s under attack right now. We must hurry.”
“P-Percy,” Annabeth whimpered.
She got to her feet and sprinted after the spirits. However, all of their vision was suddenly filled with bright light, and the next thing Annabeth knew, she was in the throne room of Olympus. Blinking in utter confusion, more and more people just popped in as she blinked.
Percy popped in, Frank and Hazel, Leo, Calypso, the other denizens of the Waystation, Clarisse, Chris, Connor, Travis, Katie, Miranda, Nyssa, Harley, Annabeth’s mortal family, Percy’s family, Tristan McLean—just about everyone from what Annabeth could see. All the demigods and their families.
But no gods.
Annabeth looked at the thrones, and saw they were empty.
Another thing she saw that was missing was the young woman that had saved her life.
Where was Piper?
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She was clad in her Tlanuwa armor, the sleek, impenetrable metal feathers from the bird of the same name, flying through the air with her huge metal wings deployed at the breakneck speed of about Mach 3. Piper was moving. Her armored body was glowing reddish orange from the air friction, a shock cone having formed around her. Her destination was Olympus, having seen in her dreams that the floating mountain was going to be ground zero for the next invasion force.
She was making great time, until, for some reason, she got yanked straight to the ground as if gravity had suddenly increased tenfold. The sudden change of direction left Piper spiraling uncontrollably to the ground, unable to stop or right herself. She tried transforming her body, tried to turn into a cat or a mouse, but she couldn’t. It seemed that whatever had snared her midflight was also restricting her powers.
As such, Piper smashed into the dirt so hard she left a crater. The only reason the extent of her injuries was just a couple of bruises was because the Tlanuwa armor did not screw around. Piper crawled out of the crater, still armored, and was less than thrilled at what she saw.
“Medea,” Piper snarled, her voice distorted from the falcon-like helmet that was part of her armor.
Her old nemesis, the witch that had orchestrated Tristan’s financial ruin, and arguably Piper and Jason’s breakup, even if indirectly, was smirking psychotically, her hands surrounded by glowing circles of magic sigils.
“Piper, my dear, you’ve grown up. All independent in your big girl pants. No more shoplifting for you, eh?”
Piper attacked, lunging so fast there was a sonic boom. She smacked right into a wall of energy, Medea’s smug expression shifting into one of strain.
“You’re not the only one who learned some new tricks,” the sorceress grunted.
Struggling to move her arms as if trying to maneuver and awkward load, Medea managed to do something akin to wrapping Piper up like a mummy, though the bandages were invisible. Piper’s legs were bound together, and her arms and wings bound to her torso. She struggled, but couldn’t move.
However, Medea didn’t look like a spring chicken herself. Her hands were kept in grabbing motions, as if holding apples, and beads of sweat were forming above her brows. Whatever spell she was using against Piper, it was draining her quickly.
Medea canceled her spell, and Piper dropped to the ground. The thing was, she stumbled a little a fell to a knee. Her armor glowed and fell from her in a multitude of mauve-colored feathers, the lights flickering out one by one until all were gone.
Medea’s fingers twitched, and the magic circles around her hands solidified into glowing swords. She rushed forward, blades in front of her. Piper’s reflexes did not fail despite the sudden exhaustion she felt from struggling against the binding spell. She pitched forward to the ground and swiped her leg in a circle, tripping Medea.
The sorceress flipped forward, tucking her body and managing to land in a roll.
Piper got up, drawing Katoptris and her tomahawk from her belt.
The crunching of grass nearby caused the women to look over, and Piper’s breath hitched. “Y-You…”
It was the lawyer from the day of Billy’s funeral four years ago.
Medea turned to fully face him. He was certainly imposing, his black hair pushed back over his scalp in a multitude of small spikes, two actual horns growing upward from her hairline, his crimson eyes glowing ominously in the starlit night, and his outfit screamed regal. Black dress shoes and black slacks, as if he were going to the office, and a black, double-breasted coat that was open at the waist, the tails cut twice for a total of three that fell down to the back of his knees, exposing a vermillion interior that went perfect with the black outfit. Upon the left lapel of the coat was a stylized red cloud. In his right hand a sleek, black rod, and on his left ring finger was a golden band.
His eyes were locked onto Medea.
“Unless you want to die here at the very beginning, I highly recommend leaving.”
“And just who are you supposed to be?”
“I am Shin’en Yūrei, general of the army that has been summoned to oppose you.”
Medea’s grip tightened on her swords. “This is what Chaos was talking about, then…”
Piper looked at the lawyer, Shin’en, again.
“Indeed,” Shin’en intoned. “Now leave, or I will destroy you.”
Then, amazingly, Medea did just that. She opened a mortal of multicolored light and jumped through, the portal closing behind her.
Piper relaxed with a breath. She sheathed her weapons and walked up to Shin’en. She looked at him seriously.
“This is it, isn’t it? What you warned me about, what Jason warned me about—the apocalypse.”
“Yes,” Shin’en answered. “Most of my team is already here, and more will soon arrive. We will do what we can.”
Piper nodded. “I’m ready to help.”
Shin’en’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Piper met his gaze, her multicolored eyes almost completely black as she let some of her soul seep out. Writing itself on her face were her experiences these past two years. The horrific things she had seen, the hard decisions she had made, the multitude of lives she had personally ended, and more. Piper’s face became that of a hardened war veteran that had done what she had to do for the mission.
The face of a soldier.
The face of a killer.
Shin’en slightly inclined his head. “We shall see. Come, we have much to do.”
The slit on his forehead between his horns opened, revealing a third eye that was a dark emerald, green, sporting concentric rings with spinning tomoe. Piper was a little taken aback at the sight of the eye, but the next thing she knew, she was in the Olympian throne room.
As was just about everyone else.
Piper saw her old friends, Annabeth, Percy, Leo, Frank, Hazel, and Reyna bringing Thalia over from the Hunters, wincing as she saw Annabeth wearing a McDonald’s uniform, but she did not go to them. Instead, she kind of just hung out on the side, between the demigods and the lawyer.
He had friends of his own.
A tall, muscular man with golden armor and heterochromic eyes.
An unnaturally black woman with a bladed tail and other monstrous features, bringing with her what Piper was sure was Khione, only the snow goddess had something attached to her face. Was that a Facehugger from the Alien franchise?
A young man that looked exactly like Percy, only wiser and more battle-hardened, wearing a black leather coat and several weapons on his person.
Then an absolute psycho of a barely pubescent boy, dragging with him a golden bloody mess of a thing that might have been a god.
The five exchanged greetings of various enthusiasm, but Piper was broken from her observations when someone shouted her name.
“Piper!”
She looked and was relieved to see her dad running to her, tears in his eyes. She ran to him too, and they crashed in a hug.
“Oh, my God, you’re safe!” Tristan openly sobbed. “I haven’t heard anything from you in-”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Piper cried. “Just…things got busy.”
Before anything else happened, a car suddenly came speeding into the throne room from a hole in space/time, followed by a kid on a motorcycle with a gun who fired, shooting the driver through the rear windshield and headrest with a pistol. The dead driver laid on the wheel, the car whipping around to head for the five people that looked suspiciously like Percy now that Piper thought about it.
Not a single one of them moved despite the screams and cries of the demigods and other people.
When the car hit the closest one head-on, the black girl, it was as if the car smashed into a steel pole. The front end caved in completely, the door popping open, one man getting thrown out, and due to the woman’s height, flipped up and over her to go spinning end over end before landing on its top in an explosion of glass. She didn’t budge a single inch.
The motorcycle boy drove over and shot the man that had gotten thrown from the car, a man of Latin descent, and then drove over to the overturned car. Another man was trying to get out of the wreckage, and the boy shot him in the head.
“What an entrance,” the lawyer said dryly.
Motorcylce boy looked at him, then looked at the crowd as if only just now realizing they were there. His eyes widened, then they zeroed in on the space/time portal to another place, some ramshackle city, and he spun the motorcycle around and attempted to make a break for it. The portal closed, making the motorcycle boy groan in anger.
“Not this fucking shit again!”
“Unfortunately,” said the lawyer. “Now turn that off and come here.”
Kicking the stand, turning off the machine, and grumbling to himself, he did just that, carrying all the energy of a disgruntled boy being told by his father that he had to turn off the videogame and do chores.
“Hi~,” grinned the psycho boy.
Motorcycle boy leaned away and stood next to leather coat man.
“Tobi, behave,” admonished the lawyer.
“What about the triplets?” Muscle man asked.
“On their way,” said the lawyer.
“And our tech support?”
There was a loud banging at the front doors of the throne room, causing all heads to turn.
“Door’s open!” the lawyer called.
One of the doors swung open, and came rolling in a souped-up wheelchair was another young man with a clear case of psychopathy. He had big welding goggles on his eyes, short black hair, a wild grin, pale skin, and was wearing simple clothes. Black shorts that exposed the stumps of his legs, and a long-sleeved bright red shirt.
“One side people, move it!” he said as he rolled down the middle of everyone. He got to the other six and crowed, “Well, goddamn! It’s the end of the world as we know it all over again, ain’t it!”
“Something like that,” the lawyer said.
“Excuse me!”
Everyone looked, and Piper swallowed a little at seeing Annabeth go marching in front of everyone, her big mouth opening up.
Piper also saw that there were a number of raised eyebrows and slack jaws at seeing the mighty Annabeth Chase, Architect of the Gods, wearing a McDonald’s outfit, and Piper couldn’t blame them. When you thought of Annabeth, the last place you’d ever think to see her working was McDonald’s of all places. Not to bash anyone that does work at the fast-food joint, of course, but anyone that knew Annabeth knew that fast food was way beneath her skills and talents.
Piper looked at the six newcomers and saw they all had their own reactions as well.
The lawyer looked unperturbed.
The black woman and muscular man both looked disgusted to see Annabeth wearing such a uniform, as if the site was offensive.
Psycho boy and wheelchair boy both looked as if they were witnessing a comedy skit.
Motorcycle boy looked uncomfortable.
And leather coat man had a raised brow.
“Yes, Ms. Chase?” the lawyer asked calmly.
“Uh, h-hi-”
“Hello.”
Annabeth was clearly a bit taken aback by the lawyer’s calm demeanor. Piper figured Annabeth thought she was going to be lambasted for daring to come before whoever these individuals were.
“So, uh, I think I speak for everyone here when I say I would like to know what’s going on?”
“Armageddon,” the lawyer said shortly. “For the past four years, Tartarus has been amassing an army while also putting his sons and nephews back together. He also struck up an alliance with Loki-” psycho boy grinned and lightly kicked the bloody mess, making it groan, making Piper’s eyes go wide when she realized that said mess was Loki “-Setne, and the successors of the Triumvirate-”
“The Triumvirate!?” Annabeth balked, as did many others in the throne room.
Piper’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, the Triumvirate,” the lawyer said patiently. “The organization that existed in the shadows for the better part of 2,000 years, amassing wealth and power and immortal soldiers and demigods, while having a hand in most major world events. Did you really think an organization like that would just crumble and collapse because its main leadership was defeated by teenagers?”
Annabeth gulped, and Piper could tell that a lot of people were feeling like the old “Overconfident Alcoholic” meme.
“Indeed,” continued the lawyer. “It is the end of your world. Tartarus has unleashed his army, and billions across the plant have already died. Setne almost destroyed the House of Life in Egypt but he was routed. I suspect that he is currently overtaking the Duat and subduing the gods therein. Loki made his move on Hotel Valhalla, but-”
“I fucked him up!” Psycho boy cheered.
“Quite,” agreed the lawyer. “In short, tragic terms, Ms. Chase, all of your efforts in saving the world and in retiring from demigod life in order to build a quieter, normal one, were all in vain. Evil has reared its head in a way almost unprecedented, and that’s why we’re here.”
Annabeth had tears in her eyes, her knees wobbling. Understandable, of course. Even Piper felt her heart aching in her chest, even though she knew this day was coming and had tried to do her best to prepare.
“Wh-What about the gods?” Annabeth asked.
“Useless. Nyx gave over her daughter Hecate to the current Triumvirate to use her in a manner similar to how the first Triumvirate used Harpocrates. Using Hecate, they caused a massive Mist warp that affected the entire planet. Using this warp, they manipulated the minds of all mankind to collectively think of the gods as week and worthless beings, while also thinking that Tartarus and his allies were nigh-invincible. The gods will be of no help to us.”
“Where are they, then?”
“I’d imagine they are captured. We will have to worry about them later. Right now, we have bigger concerns.”
Just then, Olympus was rocked. Light debris rained down from the ceiling, and many stumbled and staggered, with Piper having to hold onto her dad to keep him from falling.
“Ohp, here they come,” said wheelchair boy. “Time to get to work.”
He rolled forward towards the central hearth in the middle of the throne room, produced something like an ethernet cable from the arm of his wheelchair, and somehow plugged it into the ground.
Psycho boy laced his fingers together and thrust his arms forward, popping his knuckles. “I fucking love this part…!”
Annabeth looked around at all of them. “Who are you people?”
The lawyer produced a cigarette, lighting it with a spark of electricity from his finger. “I am Shin’en Yūrei. These are my associates, Asteria, Leviathan, Tobi, Virgil, Gunslinger, and Wheels. Kraken will join us soon, and I suspect that a number of others will as well. To answer your question more directly, Ms. Chase…we are the desperate measures.”
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M’kay. This chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be, but things have happened that require my attention.
Firstly, it’s even funnier the second time! I am, of course, referring to the recent (as of this chapter) reveal of the Thalia Grace actor, Tamara Smart, who is not a white girl. Standard dissenting opinions apply: Brownwashing, erasing white representation, racist hypocrisy, double standards, how is it okay to replace white people, but a heinous crime to replace non-white people? How come people can’t criticize this without being labeled as racists who don’t support diversity, and told to shut up, but whenever the reverse happens, someone sound the alarms! How is it considered diversity when the only thing the studio did was remove a white person from the story and toss in a non-white person?
It is funny that they made sure to get a white boy to play Luke, the main villain, and they also got a white boy to play Tyson, the cyclopes that’s pretty much autistic, and I guarantee you that they will get a white boy to play Octavion. Now, will they also get a white boy to play Jason in order to more sharply contrast the different parentage of Jason and Thalia, or will they get another black boy and commit to more white erasure? If they do keep Jason white, what one earth is going to happen to the Kane story? Other than being Egyptian, the Kane’s big claim to fame is being mixed-race, but now that they could give that to Jason and Thalia, they would eliminating a great uniqueness to the Kane family story.
Even if you look at the show as a Percy Jackson fanfiction like most look at the movies as a Percy Jackson fanfiction, it’s still meh with all it’s “creative liberties.” If they’re not careful, they could literally kill the PJO franchise.
Anyway, secondly: I bought the new Senior Year book, the one with Hecate, and I will be going on a brief hiatus so I can binge read the whole thing to keep myself updated on current PJO events, and possibly include elements in this story. It also goes without saying that because this story is being written in an IRL standpoint before the Triple Goddess book was released, any new lore/information revealed therein will most likely not be considered for this story.
Thirdly, and most importantly, the Wrath of the Sun Deity is making a comeback! Years ago, he started writing a “Reading of” AC: T, then life happened, and now he’s picking it back up! Please keep an eye out for the rewrite. While you do that, you can also read his latest work currently posted on Watt Pad! I can’t paste the link here because of the way FFN works, but if you type the website name followed by dot-com, and this extension, /1477828937-hinterland-chapter-1-the-start, you should find the story. His name on WP is Mr_Goober and his pfp is a cartoon white dude with black hair.
Since it’ll be a while, please Fav, Follow, and Review!