Death of Olympus

Chapter 6

Percy awkwardly dodged the quick descent of a razor-sharp sword, barely moving fast enough to avoid getting his nose sliced off. He grunted, turning to his opponent and rushing him with everything he had. The boy he was fighting, a newcomer who wasn't nearly as well-trained as Percy, easily parried and dodged every stroke. Percy let out a frustrated cry, raising his sword to slam the boy to the ground. The boy easily side-stepped the powerful blow, sending him careening into the floor. "Looks like you've lost your mojo, old man." The boy reached out to help him up, and Percy begrudgingly took it, pulling himself to his feet. The boy laughed as he sauntered away, giving a friend a high-five and sheathing his sword. Percy let out a grumble and stormed off to his cabin. It was impossible, a newcomer like that boy easily defeating a trained warrior like Percy. But for some reason, ever since Poseidon had died, Percy seemed to be losing all of his abilities. Not just his control over water, but his reflexes, his natural talent with a sword, even his ability to read Greek was fading. "Sucks, eh?" Percy whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice. Standing behind him, leaning on a pillar and smirking in a bemused manner was Peter Menden, clad in blue jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with a popular rock band insignia. "What was that?" Percy asked, sauntering over cautiously. "I said it sucks, doesn't it? Being 'a mere mortal' like the rest of us." Percy growled. "Listen, if you've got something to say, say it. Otherwise, get out of here before someone cuts your head off." Peter chuckled. "What, you think I'd just pop in here without a cloaking device?" "What?" Percy took a step back, looking Peter over. "If you're cloaked, how come I can see you?" "Well... to put it in a layman's terms, the device I'm using creates a field that swings the photons around me, making me invisible. However, I chose to manipulate this field so that the light would bounce off of me only in polarities that would reach your eyes specifically, making it so only you can see me. Everyone else just thinks you're crazy." Percy glanced around and caught a couple of girls giving him strange stares. He waved awkwardly. "What about your voice?" "Same concept. Well, actually it's a completely different concept, but it takes a long time to explain." Percy sighed. "Did you come here just to make me look like an idiot, or do you actually have something to say?" Peter grinned and pushed off of the pillar, stepping close to Percy. "I've got something to show you. If, of course, you can promise to keep it a secret." Percy took a step back. "You have something to show me? What does that mean? And... why are you paying so much attention to me?" Peter leaned back against the pillar. "You're 'the chosen one,' aren't you? The one who fulfills all of the Olympian's stupid prophecies, holds up the sky, takes a dive in tartar sauce." "Tartar sauce?" "I dunno. The Olympian's sadistic little space-time experiment. Like an unending hole of fiery Hell." "Oh... Tartarus?" "That'd be it. So, chosen one, you wanna see what I'm selling, or are you just gonna keep throwing questions at a pillar?" Percy glanced around again. There was now a bit of a gathering, watching him talk to thin air. "Percy?" Annabeth stepped towards him a bit. "Everything okay?" Percy nodded slightly, then turned back to Peter. "Fine, I'll go with you. Just don't put me on a wooden stake or something, okay?" Peter grinned wider. "No promises." He grabbed Percy's arm, and a millisecond later they were in a dark, damp-feeling room enveloped in shadow so thick Percy could hardly see Peter in front of him.