Chasing Legends (Male Reader x Annabeth Chase)

Chapter Twelve

12| Lions Hate Turnips

The war god had been waiting for them in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," Percy said.

"In all fairness, you were supposed to go. Not Dionysus's kid."

A wicked grin made its way onto Ares face. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

Y/N threw his shield at him and scoffed.

"Bet I did" Y/N said. "Better than you could've ever looked."

Annabeth and Grover caught their breath.

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which Y/N could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

Y/N said, "I'm getting pranked. Where's the cameras?"

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to Percy.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of them, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

Y/N hissed, "If you think for a second, we'll take this lame—"

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving Y/N his best red-alert warning look. "Thanks a lot."

Y/N bit his tongue, literally. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but he didn't want anything that Ares had touched and judging by the look on Percy's face he felt the exact same way. Clearly against it, Percy slung the backpack over his shoulder. The kid knew his anger was being caused by the war god's presence, but he was still itching to punch him square in his face. just looking at him, he reminded Y/N of every single bully he'd ever had encountered: Clarisse, Heather Lace, —every jerk that made of June for wanting to be friends with him.

Y/N looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served them dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt them. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of all of them.

Y/N rolled his eyes and groaned. They'd be featured in yet another paper by tomorrow.

He could the headline now: CHILD OUTLAWS BEATS UP DEFENSELESS BIKER.

"You owe me one more thing," Percy told Ares, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. "You promised me information about my mother."

"Why should I?" Ares questioned. "You didn't get it for me, curls did."

Before Percy could respond Y/N shot back. "Because we're a team. I wanna know too."

Ares scoffed.

"You sure you can handle the news?" He kick-started his motorcycle. "She's not dead."