𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒¹

𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒?

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

 
THE QUARTET STOOD in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS. Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors:

NO SOLICITORS.

NO LOITERING.

NO LIVING.

It was close to midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece. Chills ran down Astoria's back and she shuddered.

Percy turned towards his friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover swallowed nervously. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Sweat rolled down Astoria's forehead. "Don't we all..."

"What happens if the plan doesn't work?" Annabeth asked skeptically.

"Then we all die," Astoria answered.

"Don't think negative," Percy said.

"Right," Annabeth answered. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, I shouldn't think negatively." Percy's expression grew more nervous and he fiddled with his pocket where the pearls where. Annabeth softened her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She eyed Grover, and Astoria gave her fellow satyr a nudge.

"Oh, right!"  he chimed. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"You were meant to succeed," Astoria smiled.

Percy looked at his companions with gratitude. He removes his hands from his pockets and gives them his signature grin. "Let's whoop some Underworld butt."

Astorica chuckled and the four walked inside the DOA lobby.

She could hear Muzak playing softly in the background. The carpet and walls were monochromous steel grey. Pencil cacti grew in the corners like skeleton hands. A nice touch for the theme, but hardly inviting for dead—or living—people. The furniture was black leather and filled with temporary residents. People sat on couches or stood up, staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. No one talked, moved, or did anything at all. The slight transparency of the dead disturbed Astoria, who double checked her own skin. Nothing could go wrong, could it?

She hurriedly went up to the security guard's desk with everyone else following up behind her.

Astoria saw a very eye-catching man: tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached, blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

"Chiron?" Percy read unsurely.

"Excuse me?" The man spoke insulted.

"Charon, sir," Astoria greeted hurriedly. "Please don't mind him. He's feeling a bit depressed."

"Well what do we have here? It's been a long time since I met a polite child like you," the man replied. He leaned a bit closer to take a look at the group. "I suppose I can let that little mishap slide, just this once. Children do tend to react hysterically. How may I help you little dead ones?"

"We want to go to the Underworld," Annabeth answered for them.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."