A Peak Inside

The Press: A Snake by Any Other Name

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!" A microphone was shoved, unapologetically, in his face. When he had stepped out of the car in front of Wayne Enterprises, he just had time to think, 'it's too early for this' before he had found himself surrounded by people.

 The woman behind this particular microphone was one of about a dozen reporters who had cornered him on the way into Wayne Enterprises that morning. The news had broke about Nico's disappearance and they were eating it up. They could smell the blood in the water and it had worked them up into a frenzy.

  "Mr. Wayne! Do the police have any new leads on Nico di Angelo?" This question came from a fairly new reporter, Gloria Marks. She typically covered business-related news but it seems that she had decided to branch out. Or, perhaps she considered this business-related. When it came to billionaires, it was hard to keep a work/home balance so the two often mixed. He hated to think what was happening to Wayne Enterprise stock at the moment.

  "None at this--" he was cut off.

  "This is the second child you have lost, Mr. Wayne. Is there something more to these cases than you've shared with the police? Are these incidents connected?" This came from a more seasoned reporter who handled crimes against children. It was clear why she was here. She had been wanting to crucify him for years now. She probably saw this as her big break.

  "What? Of--" Before he could properly address the question he was interrupted again. In a normal press conference, Bruce was in control and could easily answer or redirect questions they threw at him. This was anything but normal.

  "Is it true that Nico had a history of running away?" A male reporter didn't recognize called from the back. He could hardly see him with the sun in his eyes. It had just started to peak over the parking garages. It would disappear into the cloud cover once the factories started working. He'd come in early to try and avoid this sort of third degree. And faile miserably.

  "Yes, that's true." He said simply. He wasn't going to offer more information for them to take out of context and hang around his neck. He wouldn't put it past them to twist his words around in pursuit of the story. The group scribbled furiously on their notepads.

  "Mr. Wayne! What is your response to allegations that suggest abuse in the household may have caused Nico to run away?" This was a reporter who worked at the Gotham Gazette, a newspaper chain that also owned the Daily Planet. Rage boiled up beneath his skin but he squashed it down before he could say something he would regret.

  "I've never abused my boys," Bruce shot back, indignant, "This interview is over." He pushed his way through the crowd to the doors of his office. He scanned his keycard and let himself in. His security team held off the piranhas as he got inside. He was out of their reach, but the damage had been done.

This wasn't the first time he had been accused of abuse, and it likely wouldn't be the last. People were always so quick to shout abuse before they had all the facts. In some cases, victims were saved. In others, innocent families were torn apart. Good people hurting good people. 

People were even more sure that Bruce was an abuser because of his money. They believed that he had bought off the police, threatened his children, and charmed the CPS worker. Any story that involved him getting away with a crime was more palatable to the public than the truth. It was a no-win scenario. So far his children's statements to the press-- usually taken while they were trying to leave school-- had been enough to convince most people that he wasn't a monster. He wasn't sure how much longer that story would hold off the press.

 It was worse because, in a way, the accusation made sense. His boys were constantly getting injuries or marks from their vigilante work that just couldn't be explained away. They were often tired and unfocused in their civilian lives from staying up late to patrol or finish homework. His children eere also prone to behavioral issues or attitude problems from sleep deprivation and trauma. Well- adjusted wasn't a term he would use to describe them.

When you put all of those things together, there was reason to believe that there was something suspicious going on in their home lives. Any detective worth his salt would suspect point the first finger at the parent or guardian. The press did too. He couldn't blame them for thinking that something was going on, because there was. It just wasn't what they thought.

  "Good morning,  Mr. Wayne." His front desk clerk greeted him as he came in. Bruce was so caught up in his thoughts that all he could do was stare blankly.

  "Sorry, what?"

  "I said good morning, sir? Are you alright?" Mr. Wayne blinked before vaguely gesturing in the direction he had just come. They both glanced out to the group of reporters on the sidewalk outside. Some had left, but more were there talking into cameras or conferring with their camera crews. The clerk winced-- of course, Bruce wasn't alright. Who would be in his position?

  "I've been better. None of them step foot in here, ok Lewis?" The clerk nodded, still watching the vultures with visible distaste. Lewis had a strong sense of what constituted basic human decency and harassing someone at their place of work did it for him.

  "Wouldn't dream of it." Bruce hummed his thanks before swiping his card again and pushing through another set of glass doors. He made a mental note to give Lewis a raise.

  "Sir," his provisional secretary was waiting for him at the elevators, "I'm sorry to hear about your son."

"Thank you, Sarah. This is going to be the week from hell." He accepted a coffee from her without question. She was low on his 'people likely to poison me' list. He appreciated that she had called Nico his son, taking care not to highlight the fact that he was adopted like the press had.

  "I was able to move your 9 o'clock to this afternoon, but you still have the meeting with the board at 10:30." She referenced her Wayne Tech tablet as they stepped onto the elevator with a very anxious intern. He hid behind his mail cart and Bruce pretended not to notice. He supposed being in the presence of the CEO of the company would probably be intimidating so he ignored the odd behavior as to not embarrass him.

  "You're a lifesaver. Have you heard anything from Mr. Xiao Lin about his interest in establishing that power plant?" It was a massive contract and the power plant would provide electricity to several thousand people. He hoped they could get a contract hammered out so his people could start breaking ground soon. Sarah dashed those plans.

  "Nothing yet. Last I heard his company was undergoing a corporate reshuffle. We probably won't hear from them again until the dust has settled," She speculated. Bruce hummed in agreement around a sip of coffee. It was a fair assessment.

  "Alright, keep me posted." While a lot of people knew who he was and had heard of Wayne Industries, most civilians didn't seem to know what they did. As he had once said in an informational video, Wayne Enterprises is a research and development company used for industrial purposes. The company studies, researches, and develops cleaner mechanical fission and fusion power plants; and also owns many factories and normal labor units.

The informational video was recorded for one of the Wayne Enterprises' annual training that every employee in the development or communications departments had to take. They were usually about things like preventing sexual harassment, inclusivity, cybersecurity, emergency protocols, and things of that nature. The company he had hired to make the module that Wayne Enterprises uses wanted him to record a few minutes of film for it, so he had.

"What about my rehabilitation program?" Bruce asked as the elevator dinged and the intern maneuvered his way off, giving them both a wide berth. Bruce was glad he was gone, he didn't think his back could take any more of the kid's drilling stare. The hair on his neck was still standing on-end.

  "It seems to be going well. Who would have thought former convicts would be such... motivated workers?" She clicked a few buttons and brought up a profit analysis. Profits were up in the factory where he had employed a number of former convicts. He bit his tongue to keep from commenting on her bias. Hopefully, the program would speak for itself and change her tune. It was easier to help people change their minds when they thought they did it themselves.

 For the early stages of the program, Bruce offered former convicts a standard factory job-- nothing that required anything with a lot of training. Anyone off the street could be trained in a week or two and be working on the line after that. It was perfect for convicts who maybe hadn't had formal schooling or couldn't find other lines of work because of their history. Most importantly, it kept them off the streets.

  "Most criminals only commit crimes because they feel like they have no other choice. Usually, it's the last resort. If you give them a steady income and livable wages, they suddenly have a choice again." Bruce explained simply. He knew that his company employed a lot of people and that meant that money got spread around within the community, but he couldn't see the impact that made. Was he making a difference?

 They reached their floor and Bruce led the way off the elevator.

  He knew it was making a difference, but there was still a whole other demographic out there that was being overlooked. He saw the rates of convicts getting arrested and thrown back in prison increasing and he had to wonder if he could do anything to change that. He was limited as Batman. He lacked the ability to prevent the crimes from occurring. This was his little experiment to see if it was possible to reduce the rate of former criminals getting re-convicted. So far, it looked promising.

  "I suppose that would make sense." Sarah followed him as far as her desk and Bruce continued into his office, signaling the end of the conversation.

  When he got into the office he took a few moments to unpack his briefcase and pour himself a cup of water before getting to work. It was hard to care about investors or product patents when your child was missing and the world was about to self-destruct again. He wished he could take time off like he used to. Just leave the company in the hands of his board and go be Batman.

But that was years ago, before he took an active role in his company. When his board of trustees still made all the decisions. Now thT he was in charge, he couldn't just go fight crime 24/7. In short, life isn't fair and Bruce Wayne still had work to do and a cover to maintain.

  About a half hour later, his intercom light flickered in and he pressed the speak button.

  "Sarah?"

  "You have a call on line one. It sounds like a young woman. She only said that her name is Reyna and that you would want to speak to her. I told her you were busy, but she's insisting. Should I put her through?" Bruce's chest tightened. Reyna? He had been expecting a call from her on his personal phone, not at his place of work.

  "Yes. I'll take it in my office." He clicked the intercom off. A few seconds later his phone rang. He picked it up.

  "Hello?"

"Do you know who I am?"

  ++++


Nico was freezing. Teeth-chattering, body- trembling, appendage- numbingly cold. Though if that were from the cursed pomegranate seeds or the metal jar, he couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a little of both.

How many days had it been?  It was hard to tell. The only way he had to tell the time is by the number of times he had woken up. Each time he woke up, he scratched a line in the wall of the jar with his sword and ate another seed. So far, he'd been through 2 seeds now, and he was currently sucking the pulp off seed number 3. In a moment he would be dragged to the brink of death for the next who knows how long.

Every time he was in this trance-like state he had dreamed. He figured it was for Gaea's own pleasure. She seemed to like making him miserable. She would come to him sometimes, in the dreams. Whispering about her plans for the questers, for Hazel. Taunting him about how close he had been to the Doors of Death while he was still in the pit.

Watch little one! Your friends are on their way! Though, I think we both know they aren't coming for you.

She was right, of course. The quest wasn't coming to save him. No. Their goal was to destroy the primordial of the Earth at all costs. His life wasn't more important than that-- not more important than any other life on this spinning rock they all called home. He doubted the questers even knew he was still alive. Though by now they had probably guessed that he had failed.

He had once heard that love or maybe hatred were the most intense emotions. Nico disagreed. A someone who had felt them both, he could say for certain that it was shame. Nothing could destroy a man quite as completely as shame.

Nico leaned his head back and spat out the seed. It made a dull thump as it bounced off the wall of the jar, landing somewhere by his feet as best he could tell in the darkness. At least, where he thought his feet were. He couldn't feel them anymore.

It didn't take long for the fruit of the Underworld to take effect. It never did.

He hated this part.

It started in his hands first. He felt an intense, almost unbearable, cold crawl up his limbs as he was dragged back into a death trance. It stalked up his wrists and elbows and into his shoulders. He growled to himself as the coldness started to burn. It moves into his shoulders and Nico prayed that it would just hurry up and pull him under.

It travelled up the back of his neck and down his spine in a way that he found almost unbearable. There was no relief. No position that made it better, no way to block it out, and no way to escape. He had to endure the feeling until his whole body was covered in cold, burning hornets and he thought he'd forget how to breathe. Only after his whole body, every inch of him, was crawling in agony would he fade into blackness. That was the price of his life.

I won't eat another seed. he promised himself. It was a lie, and he knew it. He'd eat another seed, and another seed, and another. He'd continue until he ran out of seeds or oxygen. He'd continue until he couldn't anymore. Now that he was dying, he realized that he wanted to live. The irony wasn't lost on him.

He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. With the pain, the thickness of his breath in the jar, and the dreams, he could feel himself slipping. His eyes closed. He feebly hoped that Gaea would be too preoccupied to antagonize him this time.

He was thrown unwillingly into another dream.

This dream seemed... early. He didn't know how else to describe it. Maybe that meant that it had already happened? Maybe that meant it was currently happening. All he knew is that it felt important.

Pay close attention, little one. I think you'll find this next bit particularly interesting! Gaea's deceivingly warm voice cooed. He had gotten used to this side of her voice over the last few dreams. Before it had always sounded so cold and distant. He hoped that didn't mean she was waking up, but he didn't have the confidence to say.

When the dream came into focus, he was standing next to a lake. The Argo II seemed like it has crashed down into the small body of water. It didn't appear to be too damaged, but some of the sails were still smoking lightly. This must have been after the New Rome incident. Maybe even the same day. Something told him that this wasn't where he needed to be.

He blinked and he was somewhere else. He had learned that when he dreamed with Gaea, it was much less like a dream and a lot more like being a ghost. He got to move, breathe, and talk like a normal person, but no one could hear him or see him. He couldn't interact with the scene, only observe. It was beyond frustrating, it was painful.

Now he was standing in front of a woman who was clearly obsessed with fortune cookies. She was opening the cookies, reading the fortunes, and discarding the ones she didn't like. Her bicycle looked broken too. He didn't think the wheels were supposed to have chunks taken out of them.

A voice came from behind him, making him whirl around. It was Hazel. She was alive and that was enough. Nico paced around the two demigods, paying particularly close attention to Hazel, as the scene began to play out. Leo was with her, and he was watching the goddess (clearly she had to be a goddess) carefully. He seemed a bit shaken.

"I supposee you won't tell us what you're talking about. Or why my brother Nico has only 6 days to live. Or why Rome is going to be destroyed." Hazel sounded frustrated, which was usually the case when it came to speaking with the gods. Nico's throat began to close up as he started to process what she had said. Only 6 days? How many days ago was this? What day is it now? He'd gone through 3 seeds, was that equivalent to 3 days?

  On one hand, he was grateful for the vision. At least now he knew that Hazel was alive and knew he was still alive, but now that he knew just how little time he had, he was worried. Even if they had decided to save him, which he didn't know if they had, how would they reach him in time? Could they? It would be torture to die just before they could make it to him. He almost hoped that they wouldn't come for him and see him like this.

Before the goddess in the vision could answer, the scene went dark around him. Gaea had decided he'd seen enough.

Ah, yes. You've come to the same conclusion. That was yesterday. You have 5 days left. They're never going to reach you in time. And we've opened the jar once so far. Of course, I didn't anticipate you using those seeds, but in the end, it won't matter. You're only delaying the inevitable.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Nico yelled into the inky blackness of his mind. He tried to reassure himself that everything would be ok, but all alone with a primordial being-- he couldn't make himself believe it. His tears ran hot, even in his dream.

++++

Hazel was afraid. The truth was, she had almost always been afraid. She had been afraid when she lived in Alaska. She had been afraid when she died killing Alcyoneus. She had been afraid when she went back to Alaska the second time. She had been afraid when she freed Thanatos and he searched for her name on his little tablet. And she was afraid now.

 It was easier to ignore when she was taking charge or surrounded by powerful people, but she couldn't ignore it in the silence of her cabin. She was afraid, yes. But this time she wasn't afraid for herself.

She was afraid for her brother. She was afraid of Leo Valdez and what meeting him might mean. She was afraid that they might not be able to save Rome or the world-- that Gaea would win. And she was afraid for Frank and his depleted life force.

With these kinds of odds, it wasn't hard to feel hopeless. Did anything they did make a difference? Gaea didn't seem to think so. The daughter of Pluto could have gotten lost in those thoughts if the universe would let her get a moment of peace.

The day started poorly, with her waking up from a nightmare that she couldn't even remember. Then she threw up whatever she'd had for dinner the prior evening before getting ready to go to breakfast. Yum.

She grabbed a sleeve of crackers from the dining hall before heading up to the deck to meet the others. Almost everyone had already gathered. Only Piper seemed to be missing. She stood by Frank who eyed her crackers worriedly. She tried to give him a reassuring smile but it probably looked like a grimace. She knew he just wanted to make sure she was getting enough to eat, but the glance made her self-concious.

Piper joined them a few minutes later. Hazel watched closely as Annabeth stole a bite of the daughter of Aphrodite's bagel. Clearly they were close. Hazel felt a pang of longing. She had never really had female friends and she wished she wasn't already so disconnected from them. They'd had time to bond over these last eight months, but they'd only known her for two days.

Even Percy was spending less time with her and Frank. She couldn't fault him for that, of course, but it left her stranded from the Greeks. She and Frank were the only people there who hadn't been to Camp Half-Blood, making it a lot harder to connect with them. Even Jason was seeming more Greek than Roman, these days. Add in the fact that she was from another century and she felt entirely out of place.

The meeting got underway, as unofficial as it was, and Piper explained that she wanted to explore the place from her vision. It sounded fishy, to her but she didn't say anything. Piper knew more about how Katoptris worked than she did so Hazel would trust her judgement.

Hazel listened passively as the roles were assigned until Leo made an insensitive comment to Frank and she had to intervene. She shot Leo a look and he returned one that asked what did I do?

The truth was, he hadn't really been doing anything. He probably hadn't meant anything by his comment. However, Frank was highly sensitive to crticism when it came from people named Leo Valdez. She knew he was confused about Leo, just as she was. She also knew that he was feeling insecure. They needed to talk, but the subject of Leo was a frayed wire that neither of them wanted to touch.

She tried to break the tension between the three of them by reminding Percy to watch out for the Karpoi. He got a grim look on his face and Piper shot her a curious glance. She didn't mean to bring his mood down, but seemed to serve as a proper distraction.

"Karpoi?" She asked.

  "Grain spirits," Hazel replied, "you don't want to meet them." Piper didn't press her for more, though it looked like she wanted to. Hazel was grateful for that, she didn't really feel like launching into a lengthy explanation just then.

After the trio left, Hazel and Frank retreated to the dining hall. Annabeth and Leo were on the deck so they were free to speak their minds. Hazel simultaneously did and did not want to ask about the macho contest she'd just witnessed. He should know he didn't need to worry about Leo. Though she suspected that wasn't the full truth either. She did care about Leo, she just needed to sort out why.

"I don't think Leo meant to be rude." Hazel said soothingly as she grabbed a lemon scone. Talking about it without talking about it. That's what it had come to. Frank sighed and fell into a chair.

  "I know. I didn't mean to get so angry over nothing. I guess it's just..." he either lost the nerves or the words because he didn't continue. Hazel squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and he gave her a small smile.

"I think we'll be in the air for the foreseeable future," Frank said after a while, "you should be able to relax a bit for now." He was talking about her sea sickness. He'd seen how bad it had gotten on the trip to Alaska. Neither of them wanted a repeat of that. She was worried what would happen if she couldn't keep anything down and then had to go into battle.

  "Great. My stomach could use a break." She took another bite of her scone.

  "Hey, why don't you come with me? I'll get a bird's eye view and you can scout from below. At least then neither of us would be alone." Frank suggested. Hazel considered it for a moment before nodding. It was a solid plan. Plus, she could use the fresh air.

  "Sure," she took a small sip of orange juice, "I'll call Arion."

++++

They got back a while before the others. They had some disturbing news but they were going to wait until everyone was back to share. They'd seen Roman Eagles, not too far from where the Argo II was moored. Hazel had little doubt this was Octavian's doing. He was out for blood.

When the others finally got back, they were in surprisingly bad shape. Piper came back on a beautiful black pegasus with two unconcious demigods. Hazel felt guilty for not voicing her concerns earlier, but she kept that to herself as she helped the others lay the boys safely on the deck. 

Piper and Annabeth had a quick exchange, and soon the unconscious boys were moved to sickbay. That took the coordinated effort of the rest of the group, so Hazel and Frank were left to tend to the pegasus whose name, she was told, was Blackjack. He was apparently been the one to knock  Percy out. If that was the case, Percy was lucky to be alive.

She helped calm him down while Frank went below deck to get some donuts. Annabeth said he prefers them. Hazel wasn't sure that was healthy, but she wasn't all that familiar with pegasi or what they eat. She had mainly worked with normal horses and then unicorns at Camp Jupiter. And Arion's diet was anything but natural.

They gave Blackjack his donuts.

A short while later, Annabeth popped up to tell them to meet in the Mess Hall. The boys were awake and talking in full sentences again, which was a blessing. Hazel and Frank exchanged glances but headed below deck. She could already tell that this was going to be an interesting conversation. Something that was powerful enough to put both of their strongest demigods out of comission? That had to be big news.

Once they were all there, Piper filled them in on what had happened. They had come very close to losing them both. Luckily Piper was quick on her feet. Hazel wasn't sure she would have been any help in that scenario. Percy and Jason fighting each other to death in a corn field? What could she have done? If she stole their swords, what kept them from beating each other to death?

Then Piper got to the part about the eidolins and Hazel wanted to kick herself.

  "Of course!" She said it louder than she had meant to and hit the table. It startled Frank who dropped his burrito. No one mentioned it as Hazel continued. "That's what happened to Leo too." It all made sense now.

"So it wasn't my fault," Leo let out a long breath, "I didn't start World War Three. I just got possessed by an evil spirit. That's a relief!" Hazel wasn't sure that relieved was the right word. Maybe it was a relief that Leo was vindicated, but that still left them with the problem that there were spirits on the loose who could possess any of them at any time. The thought was unsettling.

  "But the Romans don't know that," Annabeth said pointedly, "and why would they take our word for it?"

  "We could contact Reyna," Jason suggested, "she would believe us." The expression on Piper's face turned sour. Hazel knew that she was jealous of Reyna, if not of her closeness with Jason, then of all the time Reyna had with him. Though surely she couldn't doubt Jason't love for her? Surely Piper wouldn't begrudge him for wanting to stay connected with the camp that raised him.

Then Jason turned to Piper and Hazel braced herself. Jason wasn't aware of Piper's feelings on the matter. This because apparent when he said, "You could convince her, Pipes. I know you could." Hazel winced sympathetically.

"I could try, but Octavian is the one we have to worry about. In my dagger blade, I saw him taking control of the Roman crowd. I'm not sure Reyna can stop him." Piper replied. This was clearly not the answer Jason wanted. His expression darkened. Hazel nodded along in agreement.

"She's right," Frank voiced what they were both thinking, "This afternoon when we were scouting, we saw Eagles again. They were a long way off, but closing fast. Octavian is on the warpath."

  "This is exactly the sort of opportunity Octavian has always wanted. He'll try to seize power. If Reyna objects, he'll say she's soft on the Greeks. As for those eagles, it's like they could smell us." Hazel had her suspicions, but she was sure until Jason agreed.

"They can. Roman eagles can hunt demigods by their magical scent even better than monsters can. This ship might conceal us somewhat, but not completely. Not from them."

Leo drummed his fingers on the table. Hazel hadn't notice how still he'd been until he moved, "Great I should have installed a smoke screen that makes the ship smell like a gian chicken nugget. Remind me to invent that next time." His words confused her.

"What is a chicken nugget?"

"Oh, man..." Leo shook his head with a  surprise, and somewhat pleased, smile, "That's right. You've missed the last like, 70 years. Well, my apprentice, a chicken nugget--"

Annabeth interrupted his undoubtedly long explanation. "Doesn't matter. The point is, we'll have a hard time explaining the truth to the romans. Even if they believe us..." she trailed off.

"You're right," Jason leaned forward in his seat, "we should just keep going. Once we're over the Atlantic, we'll be safe-- at least from the legion." He shared a glance with Hazel before looking down at his plate. She wasn't sure if he meant to or not, but his eyes pinned her to the spot for that moment. She knew what he was thinking.

  "How can you be sure? Why wouldn't they follow us?" Piper asked. Jason shook his head before he replied.

"You heard Reyna talk about the ancient lands. They're much too dangerous. Roman demigods have been forbidden to go there for generations. Even Octavian couldn't get around that rule."

  Next to her, Frank swallowed hard on his burrito. "So if we go there..." he prompted. Hazel's eyes shot to Jason as he answered.

  "We'll be outlaws as well as traitors. Any Roman demigod would have the right to kill us on sight. But I wouldn't worry about that. If we get across the Atlantic, they'll give up on chasing us. They'll assume that we'll die in the Mediterranean-- the Mare Nostrum."

Percy used his pizza as a pointer and waved it at Jason, "You, sir, are a ray of sunshine." The room fell silent at the gravity of their situation. Anxiety started to build in tthe daughter of Pluto's stomach and she took a small sip of water as her mouth started to go dry.

"So let's plan ahead," Percy continued,"and make sure we don't die. Mr. D-- Bacchus-- ugh, do I have to call him Mr. B now? Anyway, he mentioned the twins in Ella's prophecy. Two giants. Otis and, uh, something that started with an F?"

"Ephialtes," Jason supplied. He pronounced it eff-ee-alt-eez. Hazel could understand how Percy had made the slip. Spelling was exactly a demigod's strong suit.

  "Twin giants, like Piper saw in her blade," Annabeth traced the rim of her cup thoughtfully, "I remember a story about twin giants. They tried to reach Mount Okympus by piling up a bunch of mountains." Hazel's stomach dropped down into her shoes.

Frank made a strangled noise, "Well, that's great. Giants who can use mountains like building blocks. And you say Bacchus killed these guys with a pinecone on a stick?"

"Something like that," Percy agreed, "I don't think we should count on his help this time. He wanted a tribute, and he made it pretty clear it would be a tribute we couldn't handle." No one knew what to say after that. There was a long pause before Piper spoke up.

"Today on the highway Gaea told me that she needed the blood of only two demigods. On female and one male. She-- she asked me to choose which boy would die." She looked guilty and Hazel bet she knew why. When it came down to it, would she choose? Her boyfriend, or Annabeth's?

"But neither of us died. You saved us." Jason soothed. Piper gave him a pained smile.

"I know. It's just... why would she want that?" Leo whislted.

"Guys, remember at the Wolf House? Our favorite ice princess Khione? She talked about spilling Jason's blood, and how it would taint the place for generations. Maybe demigod blood has some kind of power."

"Oh..." Percy abandoned his pizza and froze. It was hard to tell if he was thinking or if something inside his head required maintenance. Annabeth called his name and gripped his arm which seemed to do the trick.

"Oh bad. Bad bad," Percy met her gaze and then Frank's, "You guys remember Polybotes?"

It was rhetorical, but Hazel answered anyway, "The giant who invaded Camp Jupiter? The anti-Poseidon you whacked in the head with a Terminus statue. Yes, I think I remember."

"I had a dream when we were flying to Alaska. Polybotes was talking to the gorgons and he said-- he said he wanted me taken prisoner, not killed. He said: 'I want that one chained at my feet so I can kill him when the time is ripe. His blood shall water the stones of Mount Olympus and wake Earth Mother!'" Hazel found it hard to breathe. Percy's account painted a horrific visual. It was Piper who finally put words to it.

"You think the giants would use our blood... the blood of two of us--" her words weren't directed to anyone but Percy replied.

"I don't know, but until we figure it out, I suggest we all try to avoid getting captured."

"That, I agree with." Jason grunted. Something still bothered Hazel, though.

"But how do we figure it out? The mark of Athena, the twins, Ella's prophecy... how does it all fit together?" She didn't expect an answer and didn't get one.

"Piper, you told Leo to set a course for Atlanta." Annabeth started. She clearly had some sort of a plan. That was a relief.

"Right," Piper confirmed, "Bacchus told us we should seek out... what was his name?"

"Phorcys." Percy supplied. Annabeth blinked, clearly surprised.

"You know him?" She frowned. Percy shrugged.

"I didn't recognize the name at first. Then Bacchus mentioned salt water and it rang a bell. Phorcys is an old sea god from before my dad's time. Never met him, but supposedly he's a son of Gaea. I still don't understand what a sea god would be doing in Atlanta."

Leo snorted, "What's a wine god doing in Kansas? Gods are weird. Anyway, we should reach Atlanta by noon tomorrow, unless something else goes wrong."

"Don't even say that," Annabeth sighed, "it's getting late. We should all get some sleep." Hazel started to stand, ready to put a cap on a busy day when Piper stopped them.

"Wait," she looked scared, "There's one last thing. The eidolons-- the possessing spirits. They're still here, in this room."

[Hello everyone! Here's a chapter for y'all! You can thank my insomnia! Without which, this chapter wouldn't have come out for at least another day or two. That being said, try not to judge it too harshly. It's a bit of a long one with hints at future chapters so keep an eye out for that. Please comment and let me know what you think!]

Also, Happy Pride! Stay safe out there!

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