Adrasteia

The Smithsonian

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. EVERYTHING IS THE CREATION OF RICK RIORDAN APART FROM ADRASTEIA AND ANY EVENTS CENTERED AROUND HER

PLEASE DON'T SUE ME

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Adrasteia's POV

"But that is for a later time. Behold, my ultimate killing machines!" Atlas said trumphantly, holding an arm out to direct our gazes. The soil erupted, and Luke put an arm in front of me as if to protect me. In each spot where a tooth had been planted, a creature was struggling out of the dirt. The first of them said:

"Mew?" It was a kitten. A little orange tabby with stripes like a tiger. Then another appeared, until there were a dozen, rolling around and playing in the dirt. Everyone stared at them in disbelief.

The General roared, "What is this? Cute cuddly kittens? Where did you find those teeth?"

The guard who'd brought the teeth cowered in fear. "From the exhibit, sir! Just like you said. The saber-toothed tiger—"

"No, you idiot! I said the tyrannosaurus! Gather up those... those infernal fuzzy little beasts and take them outside. And never let me see your face again." The terrified guard dropped his watering can. He gathered up the kittens and scampered out of the room. "You.'" The General pointed to another guard. "Get me the right teeth. NOW!" The new guard ran off to carry out his orders. "Imbeciles," muttered the General.

"This is why I don't use mortals," Luke said. "They are unreliable."

"They are weak-minded, easily bought, and violent," the General said. "I love them." A minute later, the guard hustled into the room with his hands full of large pointy teeth. "Excellent," the General said. He climbed onto the balcony railing and jumped down, twenty feet. Where he landed, the marble floor cracked under his leather shoes. He stood, wincing, and rubbed his shoulders. "Curse my stiff neck."

"Another hot pad, sir?" a guard asked. "More Tylenol?" I snorted, and Luke gave me a warning glance., but the General paid me no heed as he was too busy rubbing neck and shoulders.

"No! It will pass." The General brushed off his silk suit, then snatched up the teeth. "I shall do this myself." He held up one of the teeth and smiled. "Dinosaur teeth—ha! Those foolish mortals don't even know when they have dragon teeth in their possession. And not just any dragon teeth. These come from the ancient Sybaris herself! They shall do nicely." He planted them in the dirt, twelve in all. Then he scooped up the watering can. He sprinkled the soil with red liquid that most definitely was not Kool-Aid, tossed the can away, and held his arms out wide. "Rise!"

The dirt trembled. A single, skeletal hand shot out of the ground, grasping at the air. The General looked up at the balcony. "Quickly, do you have the scent?"

"Yesssss, lord," one of the snake ladies said. They creep me out so much. The snake lady, which, incidentally, looked like my old history teacher, took out a sash of silvery fabric, like the kind the Hunters wore. "Excellent," the General said. "Once my warriors catch its scent, they will pursue its owner relentlessly. Nothing can stop them, no weapons known to half-blood or Hunter. They will tear the Hunters and their allies to shreds. Toss it here!" As he said that, skeletons erupted from the ground, and I shuddered. Luke moved closer to me instinctively. There were twelve skeletons, one for each tooth the General had planted. They were nothing like Halloween skeletons, or the kind you might see in cheesy movies. These were growing flesh as we watched, turning into men, but men with dull gray skin, yellow eyes, and modern clothes—gray muscle shirts, camo pants, and combat boots. If you didn't look too closely, you could almost believe they were human, but their flesh was transparent and their bones shimmered underneath, like X-ray images. One of them looked directly to its right with a cold stare, as if it was glaring at something invisible. The snake lady released the scarf and it fluttered down toward the General's hand. As soon as he gave it to the warriors, they would hunt the hunters (lmao) and the demigods until they were extinct.

Then, suddenly, the skeletons were pushed apart to the ground, and the silver cloth seemed to have been snatched out of thin air. Oh gods, no... When will that boy ever grow a brain!?

"What's this?" bellowed the General. One of the skeleton warriors hissed. "An intruder," the General growled. "One cloaked in darkness. Seal the doors!"

"It's Percy Jackson!" Luke yelled. "It has to be." Shit. What the hell is he thinking?!

A crisp ripping sound was heard, and I saw that one of the skeleton warriors was holding what looked like a piece of sleeve fabric up to his nose. He had sniffed the scent and was now handing it around to his friends.

Percy was in deep shit now.

"Come on!" Luke yelled, grabbing my arm and running towards the main part of the Smithsonian.

"Wait!" Atlas shouted. "Do not put yourselves in the line of danger. That is why we have cats," the General said, smiling creepily. "To get rid of the mice."

And then I heard it. Reverberating through the air and making every piece of equipment around me vibrate with the sound waves. The skeletons swayed back and forth uncontrollably, and some of their bones rattled. It sounded like a rocket engine, and I thought one of the General's goons had started one up to cause havoc, but then I flashed back to fifth grade. We were studying Ancient Greece. My teacher had decided to show us a film on the twelve labors of Hercules, and this one kid screamed and passed out during it. When he awoke, he screamed and yelled for five minutes straight, swinging his arms in front of him blindly, hitting everyone within arms reach. For the rest of the year, the kid couldn't even come into school without tripping out. Needless to say, the teacher got sacked.

But what had made him lose his top? The monsters in the movie. One of them being the Nemean Lion, which Hercules had killed before wearing the lion's coat as a cloak.

Adults screamed. A little kid's voice screeched with delight: "Kitty!" Yeah, okay.

I could hear and feel the lion bounding through the museum, its landings sending aftershocks through the ground. There were plenty of people hollering, but what rose above the din was the clear, crisp voices and cries of people in battle.

Percy and company.

Even from my current position I could hear arrows clinking daintily off of the lion's coat before a loud "Hey!" cut through the noise, and a resounding CLANG followed. Percy? Probably. Only he would be stupid enough to attempt something like that. I could only assume the loud CLANG was Riptide. The scene in the next room formed in my head, and I was torn between laughing and throwing a fit. Luke cast me a wary glance, as if he knew I was fighting the urge to run into the next room and slay the lion.

"They're not your friends, Dras," he hissed, sounding like the snake ladies.

Kids were screaming, but my ears zoned in on Percy's shouts, although his words were inconceivable.

BOOOOMMM.

And then nothing. Nothing but alarms wailing throughout the museum.

Luke gently and tentatively pushed open the doors to the main hall, and our jaws dropped. Surrounded by Thalia, Grover, Percy, and two other girls I assumed were Hunters of Artemis, the Nemean Lion lay on the floor and seemed to be melting, until there was nothing left but its glittering fur coat, and even that seemed to be shrinking to the size of a normal lion's pelt. The girl with the silver circlet around her head murmured something, and Percy replied before he lifted the coat up. The pelt shifted and changed into a coat—a full-length golden-brown duster.

"Get them," the General snarled, thoroughly pissed off. A group of his skeleton soldiers marched out.

A few seconds later, the circlet Hunter pointed towards the glass walls, and everyone looked to see the skeletons coming towards them with a purposeful stride.

"Luke, Adrasteia- outside, now." The General pointed towards the right exit, and a group of the General's goons surrounded us and herded us outside to where a sleek black helicopter was waiting on the grass, its rotors already spinning rapidly. Luke irritably pushed through the circle around us, grabbed my hand, and we jumped into the helicopter. The General went in behind us, two of his men jumped in the front, and the doors slammed shut. The helicopter rose in an instant above the museum, and when I looked out the window I saw Percy and co. run out an exit, past the skeleton soldiers, and into their van before speeding the hell out of there.

I don't blame them.