Mask of Sorrows

Chapter Three

TW: Gore/Torture

Whoever made metal cold really was a pain in the ass. It was fucking freezing. 

He kept his eyes closed, silently begging, pleading, that it was all a nightmare- though he already knew it wasn't. The freezing iron around his wrists and ankles. He fought against them, but they were, well, ironclad, and enchanted to sap his power. He could feel it- the way his limbs felt heavier, sapped of all strength. It felt like he had when he was fighting Atlas and Ares' curse had weighed in on him. He was slow; sluggish. Even his thoughts seemed to have slowed- he was tired. He wanted to nap. 

That's what they wanted though. He forced his eyes open, trying to take in his surroundings; to find a way to escape. He was, unfortunately, met with the shattering of his hopes. He was surrounded on all six sides by concrete. Concrete walls, floor and ceiling- there wasn't even an entrance, a locked gate or anything of a similar matter that he could snag the key from. What the hell did they want from him? They couldn't truly intend to torture him?

Horrified, he realizes that, for the first time, he's trapped, seemingly without any way out. He squeezes his eyes shut as a blind flash of gold explodes into the room, nearly blinding him in the process. When it finally subsides, he sees Zeus and Ares. 

"Well if it isn't the Father-Daughter duo," Percy snarls, glaring. "Let me go. Just kill me and get it over with."

"Shut up, punk."

Percy kept his sneer and glare, but kept his mouth shut otherwise- until they started approaching. His features shifted, changing into one of certain fear. His muscles, sore from the draining of his binds, started to tremble. He bit his lip, trying to break free once more as Zeus drew closer, smirking slightly. 

"Ares." Zeus holds out his hand and Ares pulled out a dagger from his belt of weapons. Percy fights harder, not liking the malicious glint of Zeus' eyes. 

"Uncle, please- Have mercy," Percy finds himself pleading, shifting away from the knife, before a strong hand is at his throat, pushing him against the wall and holding him there. He glares at Ares, the one holding him, as Zeus tests the blade against his thumb, watching as golden ichor rushes from the wound, trailing down his thumb into his palm.

"Good," he murmured, and the wound heals immediately, ichor evaporating without a trace. 

By the time Zeus finally draws the blade against Percy's flesh, he's starting to black out from the lack of oxygen. He was completely defenseless as it sliced through his skin, and, fortunately or unfortunately, he blacks out just as the cut, that started at his left shoulder, gets to his right hip. Before he passes out, he hears Ares taunting.

Is that all you got, Jackson?

With a snap, he's shocked awake- literally. The force of what should have been a lethal dose of electricity through his body forces him awake, a guttural scream tearing through him out of pure agony. Everything in him feels fried and he squirms desperately against the restraints, gritting his teeth as the blade starts again, this time at his right shoulder, moving down to his left hip, agony coursing through his body. Instinctively, his body tries to curl around the wounds to protect them, but he's not even given the luxury of that, with his body bound as Zeus steps back.

"Why- Why are you-" Percy gasps, still desperately trying to get air after Ares choking him and Zeus shocking him. "Why are you doing this?"

He can feel the blood, oozing down and soaking his jeans, way too hot for him to handle. 

"For fun, Jackson. And to leave a message," Zeus answered, drawing away to admire his work. "Being a god is rather stressful, you know. You'll be... Our little stress toy."

"A message to who?"

"Whoever visits Olympus, Jackson. You're being broadcasted, punk- better smile!"

Zeus steps away and disappears with a flash and Percy looks at Ares, in too much pain and too weak to properly fight it. "Ares. Please."

"I've got a prisoner of war here, you think I'm not going to have a little fun?"

Ares grinned, showing off his disgusting teeth lined with rot as he drew his arm back, a whip lined with fire appearing. Percy flinches before it even hits, which was a bad idea. Tightening every muscle in his body to prepare for it only made it worse; the crack of leather against skin followed by the burning heat is horrible. War is cruel, but Ares was something else. His eyes held no remorse as he reared his arm back again and again, until Percy's resolve breaks and he cries. He misses Annabeth and Jason and Nico and Leo and everyone who didn't betray him. He wants to hold them, to give them a goodbye, not a look of terror as he's being hauled away.

Percy lost track of how many times the flames lick at his skin, the leather punishing and the pain agonizing. He cries for his friends, his family, his mother and Paul and a half-sister he'll never get to meet. 

Will his mom even know? Will she just assume he's off on another quest? Or that he died? That would be better off. Though Percy knows Annabeth makes trips to Olympus for the architecture quite often. Will she see this? Will she tell everyone?

He wants to stop crying, to stop showing his pain, so that she won't feel guilty, somehow. And he does manage to stop, for just a few moments, before Ares whips him again and he breaks down once more.

How long was this going to happen? How long would this be going on? When would he just die?

After what already felt like an eternity, Ares' whip dissolved into dying flames, and, to add to the humiliation, he spits in Percy's face, the spittle sliding down his cheek and falling onto his aching and wounded chest. He managed a wavering glare, but Ares didn't seem intimidated. He just chuckled. 

"I'll let the other gods have their turn."

Percy realized there was nothing he could do, and stared, in vacant horror, at the floor. He watched his blood slowly filling the space beneath his bare feet, also soaked in blood. 

He wasn't getting out. He couldn't even save himself. He was doomed to be used as the gods training dummy until his body finally gave in and offered him the succulent release of death. 

And this was just the first day.