ɪᴄʜᴏʀ

Tartarus

Hey! So, this story isn't exactly a one-shot series, because everything is connected, but it's not quite a proper story either. It's kind of like a bunch of different scenes that might have happened if Percy didn't stop in Tartarus.

I suggest going back and rereading the first chapter again if you aren't a new reader, as I changed quite a bit to progress the storyline better.

His voice sounded like a backward recording—as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn toward the face of this god—the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Annabeth's own fragile life force.

She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail—all pointing toward Tartarus.

Everything except Percy, who, despite everything, still stood tall, glaring defiantly at the god.

Annabeth knew she should say something, but her instincts told her to hide, to avoid doing anything that would draw the god's attention. (Although that would be hard with Percy next to her. He had a habit of pissing off powerful beings.)

Besides, what could she say? You won't get away with this!

That wasn't true. She had only survived this long because Tartarus was savoring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping them to pieces. Percy might be able to hold his own for a little longer, but no more than a few minutes without help.

If Tartarus wished, Annabeth had no doubt he could devour her existence with a single thought, as easily as he'd vaporized Hyperion and Krios. Would there be any rebirth from that? Annabeth didn't want to find out.

Next to her, Percy clenched his sword tighter, eyes still defiant. For a moment, he seemed as ethereal as the primordial they were facing. His eyes glowed green as he flashed a terrifying smirk full of too-sharp, too-shiny teeth.

Tartarus hissed again—possibly laughing. However, it did give Annabeth a twisted sense of pleasure to see that the god seemed slightly nervous under his chuckle. He didn't expect Percy to stand up to him so fearlessly.

Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.

He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked Annabeth up like a weed, but Bob interrupted.

"Begone!" The Titan leveled his spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"

Meddle? Tartarus turned. I am the lord of all creatures of the darkness, puny Iapetus. I can do as I please.

His black cyclone face spun faster. The howling sound was so horrible, Annabeth fell to her knees and clutched her ears. Bob stumbled, the wispy comet tail of his life force growing longer as it was sucked toward the face of the god.

Bob roared in defiance. He charged and thrust his spear at Tartarus's chest. Before it could connect, Tartarus swatted Bob aside like he was a pesky insect. The Titan went sprawling.

Why do you not disintegrate? Tartarus mused. You are nothing. You are even weaker than Krios and Hyperion.

Percy hissed quietly at those words, apparently displeased that Tartarus was treating his friend so callously.

The light in his eyes flashed again, but Annabeth touched his shoulder gently, and he calmed. Even Percy had no chance against a being this powerful.

"I am Bob," said Bob.

Tartarus hissed. What is that? What is Bob?

"I choose to be more than Iapetus," said the Titan. "You do not control me. I am not like my brothers."

The collar of his coveralls bulged. Small Bob leaped out. The kitten landed on the ground in front of his master, then arched his back and hissed at the lord of the abyss.

As Annabeth watched, Small Bob began to grow, his form flickering until the little kitten had become a full-sized, translucent skeletal saber-toothed tiger.

"Also," Bob announced, "I have a good cat."

No-Longer-Small Bob sprang at Tartarus, sinking his claws into Tartarus's thigh. The tiger scrambled up his leg, straight under the god's chain-link skirt.

Tartarus stomped and howled, apparently no longer enamored with having a physical form. Meanwhile, Bob thrust his spear into the god's side, right below his breastplate.

Tartarus roared. He swatted at Bob, but the Titan backed out of reach. Bob thrust out his fingers. His spear yanked itself free of the god's flesh and flew back to Bob's hand, which made Annabeth gulp in amazement.

She'd never imagined a broom could have so many useful features. Small Bob dropped out of Tartarus's skirt. He ran to his master's side, his saber-toothed fangs dripping with golden ichor.

You will die first, Iapetus, Tartarus decided. Afterward, I will add your soul to my armor, where it will slowly dissolve, over and over, in eternal agony.

Tartarus pounded his fist against his breastplate. Milky faces swirled in the metal, silently screaming to get out.

Bob turned toward Percy and Annabeth. The Titan grinned, which probably would not have been Annabeth's reaction to a threat of eternal agony.

"Take the Doors," Bob said. "I will deal with Tartarus."

Tartarus threw back his head and bellowed—creating a vacuum so strong that the nearest flying demons were pulled into his vortex face and shredded.

Deal with me? the god mocked. You are only a Titan, a lesser child of Gaea! I will make you suffer for your arrogance. And as for your tiny mortal friends...

Tartarus swept his hand toward the monster army, beckoning them forward.

DESTROY THEM!