Fearless¹ Percy Jackson

-𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

🕊️.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹🤍

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

"𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓪𝓫𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓶"
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

They 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 almost 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.

Percy turned to his friends trying to swallow his anxiety. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

"Well I don't" Lyra said wrapping a leather jacket she had pulled out of her expandable purse, "I wish we could enter the way I do, but Hades doesn't particularly like visitors"

"But he lets you?"

"Excuse you I am his lieutenant not a visitor"

"He probably told you that to keep you from throwing a tantrum"

"How dare you!"

Ignoring Grover and Lyric's childish fight Annabeth turned to Percy, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?" she asked.

"Don't think negative."

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given him in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

Lyric put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it." She elbowed Grover and Annabeth

"Yeah it's gonna be fine." Annabeth said

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

Percy looked at them both, and felt really grateful. he slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld ass."

"Onwards!" Lyric yelled with Annabeth and Grover.

They walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of her eye, Lyric could see them all just fine, but if she focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking . . . transparent.

She could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.

He was 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.