Poseidon's Daughter; A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

The Underworld

Y/n's POV

The four of us stood across the street staring up at the gold lettering of DOA Recording Studio. It was almost midnight by now, but the lobby was bright and full of people. Behind the security desk, there was a tough looking guard with sunglasses, his eyes bouncing from person to person.

"Okay. Just remember the plan and we'll be fine," Percy assured us. 

"I love the plan," Annabeth lied.

"Annabeth, don't lie," I scold. "Percy, the plan sucks, and it's probably not gonna work."

"It'll work," Percy insisted. "Now come on. Let's venture into the Underworld." 

"Yay!" Grover cheered sarcastically.

Inside the lobby, music played softly over the speakers. While the lighting was bright, the colors were all muted. The carpets and walls were gray, and the furniture was black leather. Every single seat was occupied by someone, and dozens more people were standing around. But none of them said to word to us or the others. It was weird though. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone just fine, but when I looked straight at them, they were almost transparent. And then it all clicked. These must be ghosts or spirits waiting to get into the Underworld. We all approached the security guard, who towered above us on his raised podium. He had chocolate colored skin and bleach blond hair shaved in a military cut, with a sleek Italian suit and shades to match.

"Your name is Chiron?" Percy questioned when he read the man's nametag. 

The security guard frowned. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?" 

"Charon, Percy. His name is Charon," I correct.

"Right you are, little lady. And how may I help you little dead ones?" Charon asked.

"We want to go the Underworld," Annabeth answered.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing. Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon'. How did you die, then?" 

"Oh, we um, we drowned i-in the bathtub," Grover stammered. 

"All three of you?" Charon quizzed. 

Percy nodded. "Big bathtub." 

"I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children, alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries," Charon declared. 

"Oh, but we have coins," I claim and set four golden drachmas I had stolen from Crusty on the desk. 

"Well, now. Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..." Charon trailed off before looking at Percy. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?" 

"No. I'm dead," Percy fibbed. 

"You're not dead," Charon disagreed. "I should've known. You're a godling." 

"We have to get to the Underworld," Percy stated. 

"Leave while you can. I'll just take these and forget I saw you," Charon uttered and went to take the coins, only for Percy to snatch them back. 

"No service, no tip," Percy opposed. "It's a shame, too. We had more to offer." 

Charon sighed. "All right. Come along." Charon pushed us through the crowd of waiting spirits, shoving most of them out of the way. He escorted us into the elevator, which was full enough as is, but somehow, the five of us fit. "Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone. And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"