νεκρός || Annabeth Chase x Fem!OC

Vol. 3-9: RUN FORREST RUUUNNNN

TEMPEST

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"Yikes," I said.

"The other way," said Percy, clearly breathless and horrified.

Annabeth was pink in the face and wouldn't stop staring at me.

Briares's terrified face was back.

Tyson was quivering.

Grover's eyes were slits.

It was a hell of a party in the Labyrinth.

We bolted down the catwalk. This time Briares was happy to follow us. In fact, he sprinted out front, a hundred arms waving in panic.

Behind us, I heard the sound of giant wings as Kampê took to the air. She hissed and growled in her ancient language, but I didn't need a translation to know she was planning to kill us. We scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard's station- out into another block of prison cells.

"Which way?!" Grover squealed.

"Left," Annabeth and I said at the same time.

We burst outside and found ourselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. After being inside for so long, the daylight came as a surprise. My friends winced and squinted, their living eyes being hurt by the sudden shift from darkness to light. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn't see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn't give any hint that anything was wrong.

"It's even worse," Annabeth said, gazing to the north.

I nodded. "The storms have been bad all year, but that-"

"Keep moving!" Briares wailed. "She is behind us!"

We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cell block as possible.

"Kampê's too big to get through the doors," Percy said, his expression hopeful.

My head played the Family Feud buzzer noise when the wall exploded.

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords- long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..."

"Or we'll die?" Jackson guessed.

"Well... after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes."

"Let's avoid the swords," Percy decided.

"Briares, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"

But that stupid Hundred-Handed fuck did nothing. He shook so violently, his hundred arms looked like palm fronds in a hurricane.