Who the hell thought making me a Half-blood was a good idea? {ON HOLD}

Act Two-Interlude/Omake: Ares and Luke

Disclaimer: The world of Percy Jackson, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of Rick Riordan and his publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

Ares stared at the chaos left behind.

The concrete was completely broken up. Water gushed from multiple broken pipes, pooling on the destroyed ground in horrible mimicries of puddles. A few of the rides had been destroyed; mangled steel that was frosted over, thawing now. The abandoned waterpark was now completely wrecked, as if a god had taken their anger out on it.

But a god didn't do this; one demigod did.

And that's not good, that's not good at all. I've seen how much destruction my father's children have done throughout the years - I've encouraged them in their chaos - but this? This is a whole other scale. Most demigods know when to stop, know when they've reached a limit, know not to just let loose. This destruction was caused by a demigod who doesn't care about the limits, and didn't care about what she was harming; as long as us gods stopped looking at her.

I remember the way she glared at me in the diner. The last time I saw eyes like hers', they were on Cassandra as she accepted her own death. She talked to me like she had no fear of dying- all she wanted was to be left alone. 'Interesting keeps me from getting killed for being boring.' she told, as if boring was what would get her killed. Us gods love entertainment, but sometimes there's a demigod who brings too much entertainment- is too interesting- and we know that's better to stop them. Make them stop.

'I'm fully aware who's boss, and it's not you, Ares. Not here, not right now,' she had said.

And now... Now I see exactly what she meant. She could've easily sent the diner down on our heads, but she didn't. Why? How did she know I was helping her? How did she know I have the Bolt?

I shivered, spotting the huddle of three exhausted Half-bloods.

I approached their group with caution.

Poseidon's daughter - the being of destruction- was passed out on the ground. The Thief was cradling her in his arms, tears were streaming down his face as he held her tenderly. Athena's girl was staring in shock, her knuckles were white around her dagger, looking as terrified as I felt.

Persephone Jackson - such a fitting name for her: destruction - had dried tear tracks on her face, and a steady flow of blood coming from her nose.

The Thief looked up as I approached.

"She didn't mean it," he defended immediately, drawing her closer to him. His hand was on his sword.

"I highly doubt that." I eyed her unconscious and prone body warily. "Demigods who cause such destruction rarely don't mean it."

Athena's brat spoke up. "No." Her eyes shone in equal parts fear and defiance. "She didn't want to hurt anyone- we'd be dead if she did."

A demigod who created such chaos by accident? Especially in these times of the Great Prophecy, a child of the big three, a child who can cause as much destruction as a fully realised Olympian is not a good sign.

"If that's the case," I sized the small sea demigoddess up. "The verdict will be worse."

If she really did cause this by accident, I'll vote for her death before she gets any ideas about razing Olympus.

I dropped a backpack filled with food, supplies, two symbols of power, and three greyhound tickets at their feet. "What I promised."

The Thief eyed it. "Everything promised?"

I made eye-contact with him.

"Everything." His gaze is hollow yet unyielding. "I'm the god of war; I know which battles to pick." I let my eyes drop the girl. "And this battle? Is better a battle than a war."

The Thief nodded.

I turn on my heels and march back to my motorcycle.

There's something wrong with this daughter of Poseidon, and, for once, I really don't want to find out why.

-

Luke wanted to scream out to the universe at the hand he was given.

Next to me, Ophelia lay unconscious in a Greyhound seat, oblivious yet too aware of the world.

She'd confirmed it, told me that she knows more than she should - knows what I've done - and then said to trust her.

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Trust her? All I've been doing is trusting her! I opened my heart to a girl I've only known for two weeks! And yet she stills looks at me from the corner of her eye as if I will turn her over at any minute.

But she's not wrong. She's not wrong to distrust me.

I hurt her. I summoned a hellhound on her, didn't listen to her warnings about Medusa, left her alone at the arch, let her almost kill herself in the waterpark.

I watched her chest steadily rise and fall.

Annabeth was hysterical when Ares left. Screaming about how Ophelia nearly killed us, how she created such havoc, how she shook the Earth like she could reach the gods that way, how she yelled at the gods - made them angry, made them scared.

I couldn't say anything. After all, what could I say that would make this any better?

I just held both of them tight and prayed to the River Styx itself that my family wouldn't rip itself apart.

I nearly attacked Ares when he came; my blood boiling to protect my family.

But he just dropped the bag at our feet and gave us a warning. 'Betray the gods, worship the gods: it doesn't matter. Don't make us afraid or we'll lash out.'

He surrendered this time; gave us the Bolt and Helm to finish the quest. Next time? I fear that next time it'll be our head on a spike.

I'll fight until my last breath for that to never happen.

I glanced down at the two slumbering girls on the bus seats.

I closed my eyes and breathed; I'll betray my soul for them.