New Galaxia

Chapter 7: Now that's a problem.

Hezago was terribly bored. All of his earthly friends were more than likely doing something cheese-related, whereas he, well, he, was here doing nothing.

So, being bored as anything and having nothing to do other than count the copious amounts of bread he had bought from Paris, he decided that a trip to Borealia would do him well.

. . .

Hezago shrieked, scandalised. "ANNABETH WILSON, GET OVER HERE, RIGHT NOW!" He hollered, alerting the sentient AI to his arrival. "Sir, your tone-" Hezago rolled his eyes. "Celestie, does it look like I care about that?"

"No Sir, but I highly recommend that-"

"Then hush," Hezago responded, silencing the robot. Annabeth had come out of one of the many, and I mean many, portals in the area and was failing to hide her grin as she walked over to him.

"What is this!?" He exclaimed, walking down from the diamond teleportation pad in those spectacularly fashionable heels. "I just thought you would look nice in them!" She said, putting on an innocent facade. While saying this, Francis popped up out of seemingly nowhere.

"OMG, Hezago, you are absolutely stunning~!" He said, Hezago frowning slightly, then spoke. "I know I look fantastic," He said, flipping his hair, "But please shut up, Fran." Francis took offence. "It's not my fault that you ate that dress, y'know."

Then a splendidly oiled frying pan came for his face.

Trying to ignore the unconscious Fran on the floor, Annabeth turned towards Hezago. "Well, now that you're here, parliament wants to see you right about now." Hezago stared at her. "Wearing this and looking like this!?" He shouted, pointing at his face. "Well, you kind of have no choice, so..." "Forget that, I sincerely don't care." Hezago said, frowning. "Er, can you at least attend the executions?" Hezago frowned harder, confused.

"Which one?" he asked, mentally counting the executions he had not attended. "All of them, of course." She replied, smiling. Hezago groaned. He still didn't want anyone to see him looking like this, but since they would more than likely die right after, he guessed that could work. "So... where are the execution chambers again?"

Annabeth stared at him.

"The doors are labelled."

"Still, if it's a thousand and sixty-three doors down, how am I supposed to know where it is?"

"Because it's right there-"

"Oh. Oh well, just do me a favour and take Francis to the medical centre; he's bleeding internally."

Annabeth, alarmed by this, whipped around and picked up Francis as he stirred alive. "Où suis-je..." Francis muttered. Hezago walked off into one of the many portal doors nearby, and with a water-like plop, he was gone.

. . .

Hezago appeared in a dungeon-like area that had the stench of sweat and the screams of the tortured coming from all directions. "Eurgh, this place is disgusting..." Hezago muttered, unsuccessfully fanning the stench away from him.

He cautiously stepped down the stairs, avoiding the cracks in hopes of not falling down them. At the bottom of the stairs was a locked door, but the door opened for him as soon as he wished for entry, and it led into a rather stinky hall, which seemed to not have been cleaned since the last time he was here, 2 years ago.

Disgusting.

Anyway, at the end of the grand and humongous hall stood a very detailed door with a cavity in the lower centre of what seemed to be the top of an umbrella.