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Непрактичное руководство к божественности

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    Не могу читать через переводчик на оригинальном сайте - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13913132/1/An-Impractical-Guide-to-Godhood. Так что, выкладываю здесь, чтобы спокойно читать. Текст не мой, права не мои, выкладываю без разрешения автора. Ссылка на произведение выше. "Перси Джексон и Практическое руководство к божественности". У Кроноса был план. Он был разрушен у него на глазах. Таким образом, план Владыки Времени гарантировал, что все планы, кроме его собственного, тоже погибнут. Олимп могущественнее, чем когда-либо, но и Персей Джексон тоже. И, к несчастью для них, душа, управляющая его телом, не отличается преданностью...
  An Impractical Guide to Godhood
  by Antony444
  A Percy Jackson x A Practical Guide to Godhood. Kronos had a plan. It was destroyed under his eyes. So the Lord of Time's plan ensured every plan not his would die too. Olympus is more powerful than ever, but so is Perseus Jackson. And unfortunately for them, the soul governing his body is not big on loyalty...
  
  Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13913132/1/An-Impractical-Guide-to-Godhood
  
  Chapters: 36
  
  Words: 812681
  
  Rated: Fiction M - Language: English - Genre: Humor/Adventure - Characters: Percy J. - Reviews: 1,401 - Favs: 3,288 - Follows: 3,380
  
  Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net
  
  A Hatred of Prophecies
  Irritant's Law
  The Suicide Squad
  The Labyrinth Invasion
  Madness and Violence
  Welcome to Hell
  Invincible
  Saving Private Hades
  Triumphant
  Scapegoats
  Interlude Fallen Order
  Imminent Problems
  Prisoners of Immortality
  Dreams of Warships
  Interlude King of Pirates
  Ready Player Two
  The Sea of Monsters
  Cold like Death
  Interlude NOT Part of the Plan
  Annihilation Tide
  You Only Live Twice
  Reap the Whirlwind
  Gallowborne
  Return to Hell
  The Ransom of Success
  Clash of the Titans
  Dawn of Blackmail
  Games of Folly
  The Empire Strikes Back
  Imperial Circus
  Endgame
  The Return of the King
  Heroic Foundation
  Dark Times
  Titan's Game
  Cupbearer
  next chapterchapter list
  A Hatred of Prophecies
  An Impractical Guide to Godhood
  
  A Percy Jackson x A Practical Guide to Evil Crossover
  
  Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the universe which was created by Rick Riordan. I only borrow it for my own works and fun purposes. I don't own the A Practical Guide to Evil series, which is currently written by an author far more gifted than I am.
  
  Now let the madness begin.
  
  Chapter 1
  
  A Hatred of Prophecies
  
  18 August 2009, Olympus
  
  Kronos couldn't believe it.
  
  He had been close, so close...one minuscule step close from glorious and total victory!
  
  The King of Titans had been about to destroy the thrones of his weak and treacherous children and grandchildren, disperse their power, and usher a new era where the Titans would reign upon immortals, mortals, and monsters.
  
  Instead control over his body was disrupted, mere seconds before his final apotheosis was about to begin.
  
  The Master of Othrys was the Lord of Time, and as such was aware that in a few minutes, he would have been to escape this reinforced mortal shell and regain his magnificent Divine Form. The enemy Demigods would have been incinerated. The Titans would be strengthened and the Gods massively weakened.
  
  It would be in a few minutes. It would be too late to do any good, as the Lord of Titans saw his mortal host remove the protection covering the armpit of his left arm.
  
  Some of his most foolish sons might have not noticed the significance of such an action, but Kronos knew what it implied intimately. It was the only part of Luke Castellan's body which had not benefitted from the invincibility of the waters of the Styx. It was the fatal weakness of the body he possessed.
  
  A dagger, a dagger cursed by prophecy and oath, arrived in his...in Luke's hands.
  
  The weapon approached from this small patch of skin.
  
  Kronos roared internally and froze time.
  
  Utterly.
  
  Already his strength was vacillating as he felt the disgusting presence of these crones the Fates striking at him, doing their best to let his grasp falter.
  
  But he was the King of Titans, the Master of the Golden Age, and Time was his Domain.
  
  The time was stopped. The cursed dagger stopped its course. The Fates increased their pressure.
  
  Despite knowing he was only moments away from death, Kronos felt strangely relieved. The Second Titanomachy was obviously lost. When his mortal shell died, and this dagger would make sure of it, Kronos was going to be disintegrated in a very, very violent manner, possibly powerful enough to make him impossible a return in this sphere of existence.
  
  Yet this knowledge didn't sadden him. Instead, the Titan felt rising anger.
  
  This prophecy, the so-called 'Great Prophecy', had always been about his death. The wording suggested some hope of victory for his side, but immortals were clear-sighted, and the sire of the modern Greek-Roman pantheon saw for the first time the unaltered truth: there had never been any chance of victory for his cause. He had always been destined to fall here, one second away from apotheosis, when he was the most vulnerable.
  
  Time was utterly still, and Kronos drank the knowledge of the past and the present, much as Fate tried to break his resistance.
  
  Yes, he had committed great mistakes during this conflict. Yes, many of his brothers and his allies had reasons to be...displeased about his leadership.
  
  But he had not violated the Ancient Laws, proclaimed by Chaos itself. He had not stolen the symbols of power of other immortals - that was what Demigods were for, really. He had not travelled to the domain of other immortals 'uninvited': Zeus and himself were waging war against each other for the control of the Skies and every part of the atmosphere, his usurper of a son to keep the realm he didn't deserve, and he to be reborn as the legitimate ruler of this world.
  
  The Olympians and the Fates had made this Titanomachy a preordained victory for their side. They had known, and shamelessly used Prophecies and their intricacies to engineer his doom.
  
  They had ensured that for all his hatred, Luke Castellan was unsuitable as a host, since he would always falter at the end.
  
  They had manipulated countless Demigods in supporting them no matter what happened, in spite of the 'ancient laws' proclaimed by Zeus who told their children shouldn't be educated and trained by their immortal sires. But overall it was all about prophecies, and ensuring a few key Demigods stayed loyal to the end.
  
  Kronos hated it...though 'loathing' was a major understatement of his true feelings.
  
  And the assault on Time continued, the three crones continuing their assault with more vigour. No doubt they sensed they had him at their mercy.
  
  And they were right, weren't they? He had lost.
  
  The Olympians, his pathetic children and grandchildren, would reign for millennia to come. The status quo enforced by Zeus and the Fates would continue for hundreds generations of mortals.
  
  The name of the Titans, in time, would be forgotten.
  
  Damn the Olympians. Damn the Fates. Damn the Prophecies. Damn them! Curse them! He would-
  
  A troubling idea coalesced in the immortal power of the King of Titans.
  
  He had lost, yes, but time was like a snake eating its own tail; it was...malleable.
  
  Stopping the seconds and the minutes to come from happening was impossible, even for him.
  
  But the past...in the past, nothing was so definite.
  
  Something shook his power. Something...ancient. Or maybe something Primordial was the better way to accurately describe him.
  
  Kronos began thinking how he could get his revenge.
  
  The key would be to removing Fate and the prophecies from meddling into every Quest, battle, and immortal or mortal deeds. Their vision had to be at least temporarily blinded, or everything was doomed from the start.
  
  Thanks to listening to the echoes of the future, Kronos knew there was a way to accomplish it: Python, the sworn enemy of Apollo, could usurp the power of the Oracles and Fate itself. Was it truly usurpation however when the power was originally his and the Gods had stolen it?
  
  You will pay a terrible price for this, Father of Time.
  
  Kronos shivered at Chaos' declaration. It wasn't a warning or a threat; it simply was the truth...in a painful and impossible-to-deny way.
  
  And yet it remained...insufficient.
  
  In this future, Python had lost...and in a thoroughly humiliating fashion, if he was generous. Losing against Apollo as a God was something, but losing against an acne-disfigured teenager possessing some meagre sparks of divine power? Even with a Prophecy at work, it was pathetic. No, the Lord of Titans couldn't rely on an overgrown snake to topple Olympus.
  
  Seven actions.
  
  It was a symbolically powerful number, and magically it would serve his means.
  
  First, his magic would erode the prison of Python in Tartarus, liberating the Oracle-empowering monster decades earlier than expected. One could only pray the enemy of Apollo would be careful and stay in the shadows plotting and preparing before causing plenty of damage.
  
  Second...he was going to give 'gifts' to the Olympians. With hindsight, their unity was the biggest lie of their Council: without the Titans, they would have jumped to the throats of each other and began a great civil war which would have shaken this world for eternity.
  
  Each move he thought over lengthily before preparing to allocate a gigantic portion of his power to it. It was an enormous waste, given that the influence were more nudges than true decisive actions, and that he couldn't be guaranteed the pawns would react like he wanted...though one could count on his youngest son, Zeus, to react as predicted. People called him arrogant, but in this field, the 'Lord of Olympus' had surpassed him long ago. Pride, paranoia, and arrogance had almost led him to his doom before; it wouldn't be difficult to push him towards Tartarus at the decisive moment.
  
  Still, he wouldn't have attempted it before. But what good his power was going to do to him when he fell? None.
  
  And this left him the more unpleasant part of this desperate plan.
  
  Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon...the boy couldn't be allowed to stand against his plans once more. And the same was true against the Demigods. Prophecies or no prophecies, Kronos had seen how much delay they had cost him in the Battle of Manhattan. Many had died, but the Olympians would always breed more.
  
  No, it was similar to the Olympians, it was better to destroy them from the inside while someone assaulted them from the outside. A few spies had not been sufficient for the former. Anyone who tried to topple his sons and daughters must have support from the progeny of the Olympians.
  
  Fortunately, per his 'alliance' with Hecate, he could summon a soul from across the different dimensions of reality. Someone who would have his...far-sight and genius to see the Olympians for the usurpers they were.
  
  Yes, yes, it was brilliant, if he said so himself.
  
  At the instant of their victory, Kronos' shards of power would find themselves to the past, opening the path to his revenge
  
  For the one Fate wanted to be the Hero...his Soul.
  
  For the one who had been sacrificed by the Gods...his Heart.
  
  For the one who decided to betray him and spit upon his oaths...his Strength.
  
  This was his last defiance, Kronos knew. Many manipulations, but would it be enough? Such intervention would enormously benefit his children and grandchildren in the short-term, for such a negative and blatant intervention would be compensated by more power and influence for Olympus.
  
  It was entirely possible Kronos himself would not play a part in this new Titanomachy, as odious and horrible as the idea was.
  
  But the vengeance would be his, even if no one saved his parts screaming in the pits of Tartarus remembered.
  
  And that would be enough.
  
  Vengeance?
  
  "Vengeance. Vengeance for vengeance. You will pay for everything, son."
  
  Kronos released time and unleashed his power for his last grand move.
  
  The dagger struck deep a second later. And then there was nothing.
  
  Kronos, Lord of Time, King of the Titans, had perished. But before vanishing, he had changed the world forever.
  
  4 October 1999, somewhere near New York City, United States of America
  
  He was alive.
  
  It was most surprising, because he was ready to swear on everything he knows that he had been struck by lightning thrice in the last minutes and drowned out by a tidal wave at the same time. Add the explosion of the car...
  
  The black-haired boy grimaced and try to pass a hair in the aforementioned hair, realising nearly immediately he would have to let them grow...a lot...before they could reach somewhere near their proper length. And as he watched his appearance in this lake which had come out of nowhere, the seven-years-old boy also realised he will likely have to cut them first. What was on his head was a hirsute thing half-burned and half...well, he didn't know if there's a proper word to describe it.
  
  All things considered, his appearance was still surprisingly healthy. Granted he looks like he had massive sunburns from head to foot, his clothes were so tattered they would inspire revulsion to a beggar, and a few wounds on his arms were likely going to scar.
  
  But given the violence of the attack...and it was an attack, he intimately knew.
  
  Something in his soul had woken up. Something kept asleep by seven years of a loving mother and as many years of average life have forced old memories to be unlocked. Because this was the first time the heavens had raged against him, and unleashed their thunder to end his life.
  
  "Why?" the green-eyed boy asked calmly, in a tone which would astonish any witness, since anyone in such situation would likely cry or scream. "It can't be my attempts to play with my hydrokinesis twice...I stopped when she asked. It can't be anything I've done in this car..."
  
  Even the cold green eyes vibrating with an energy far older than any seven-years-old should possess dared not look more than a few seconds at the enormous crater where the thoroughly carbonised wreck of a car was lying abandoned.
  
  "It was not me. It was never about me. It's what I represent." Plunging his arm in the miniature lake, the young boy smiled when second after second the wounds plunged into the liquid healed at an accelerated rate. Soon even the lightning-induced sunburn disappeared like it had never existed. Knowing this was the cure, the solution was obvious and besides, it wasn't like he was at risk of being wetter or less presentable. Ten minutes later or so he guessed, and everything was more or less healed.
  
  "At least this confirms my theory. The lightning tried to kill me; the water protected and healed me. So I can only deduce this is a grand contest between Gods...Lightning versus Water."
  
  There is more thunder rumble far above his head, as if trying to threaten him beforehand.
  
  "This is not about Perseus Jackson," the green-eyed boy smiled. "It is about what I am the symbol of. You have made your point and killed my mother. Take your lightning and go away."
  
  His 'suggestion' was not well-liked, if the dark clouds summoned right above him were any indication. Of course at this moment the water soared again, a true wall of water forming a blue citadel to protect him.
  
  There was a stand-off for a few heartbeats. And then the clouds vanished like they had never been here. The water began to recede too. The lake progressively disappeared, decreasing to the size of a pond, before being at best a big puddle. The nightly sky could be seen again, cloudless, like all the events of the last hour were just a dream.
  
  But he was alone.
  
  Alone, the car was a ruin, and his mother was dead, because they had been caught in a contest between two Gods and people with no endurance or special abilities were too fragile to survive this kind of attention.
  
  "Mother..."
  
  He should not be so angry.
  
  After all, the old Kairos Theodosian, his past self, led a coup against his own father and killed him. And his closest male relative after that, his cousin Dorian, had to flee his kingdom and become the Exiled Prince if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders. The former Tyrant was not a teenager whose familial principles ran very deep.
  
  But this was his ancient life. In this one, in this very body, he had a loving mother, and she was his world.
  
  Now she was gone, disappeared in lightning and fury.
  
  "And they say that lightning never strikes at the same place twice..." Of course lightning isn't usually powerful enough to destroy cars and leave massive craters the like are only crated by demons and massive sorcerous spells bent on the destruction of everything and everyone either. "What do I do now?"
  
  The young part of his soul, the scared part, urged him to flee. He, Perseus Jackson, could do nothing against this kind of power. If not for another divine intervention to oppose the first one, he would be dead too.
  
  And to be honest, it was likely the intelligent choice, the sane choice...assuming fleeing was an option.
  
  It likely wasn't. This world didn't appear to have formal Names and run on stories, but the ex-Tyrant could feel the pulse of something significant here. Even if this wasn't about the life of Perseus Jackson per se, no self-respecting God would lose his time blasting apart someone truly unimportant. The hydrokinesis and the water healing were clues that couldn't be missed. His new soul was not versed in the local mythology, but there was a high likelihood of him being tied somehow to a water deity.
  
  This...this was personal. Someone had killed his mother and tried his best to kill him too.
  
  And while Kairos didn't think he had any Callowan blood running in his veins at any moment of his two existences...this time he really understood revenge.
  
  It wouldn't be today. Normal or precocious, no seven-years-old could go against the heavens and win.
  
  But it would come.
  
  "This I swear on everything I lost," the memories of the old and new soul uttered together, merging in a violent emotion of loss, desire for retribution, and rage against the now thunder-empty skies. "I, Perseus Jackson, will have my revenge, whether be Gods, Demons, or all the armies of this cursed world stand against me."
  
  No word was said when the young Demigod began to walk away from the road, marching without looking back westwards.
  
  Several minutes later, the first of the three beings taking the form of old ladies sitting in rocking chairs spoke.
  
  "The boy has challenged Fate."
  
  And they were Fate - or Fates, plural - went unsaid.
  
  "Destiny is unravelling," agrees the second. "It was already complicated to explore all the futures with Hades' ridiculous curse upon the Oracle, and it is getting to get worse from there."
  
  "Shouldn't blame be laid where it belongs?" the third asked. "The boy's destiny has been brutally altered through no fault of his own. This is-"
  
  "Something...dangerous...has awakened in Perseus Jackson," Clotho, the Fate of Birth, declared. "When I watched him, it was like a dangerous serpent taking over. The actions of Olympus aren't upsetting our threads. This boy is."
  
  "Sister, if the Lord of Olympus decides to reduce to ashes the mortal parents of many Demigods," Lachesis, Fate of Life, protested, "their own destinies would be derailed too. Or do you expect them to go to New Byzantium and forget anything happened? In addition to this reality, I think we can't forget that our father has a pattern of killing women and children who can be a source of danger to his throne, no matter how slim or unlikely."
  
  "This has not been forgotten," Atropos, Fate of Death, reassured her two sisters. "But we are not the guardians of Olympus' justice. We are Fate. We control and manipulate the life threads of every living being, and Perseus Jackson will not play the role we destined him to. And if he doesn't play his role, there is no place for him in the great tapestry of destiny."
  
  Golden-silver scissors shining with divine power were seized in one hand, and approached the electric blue yarn.
  
  And then something unprecedented, impossible, happened.
  
  The scissors were unable to cut the life-thread of the Demigod.
  
  5 October 1999, Olympus
  
  Ares had bet on his uncle Poseidon announcing his arrival with several earthquakes and two or three gigantic tidal waves.
  
  Evidently, it was a bet he lost...since unless the God of Seas had changed a great deal, it wasn't him who entered the Throne Room of Olympus.
  
  "You have not been summoned, Prince Triton of Atlantis," Zeus rumbled. "Your father was."
  
  "My father," retorted the God taking the form of a young green-haired man, albeit one who was three metres-tall, "is still paying the price for breaking his oath on the Styx. For six years he has been unable to rule either at Olympus or Atlantis, as the penalty for such oath-breaking demands. Since it leaves him three more years of exile, I was sent as his voice and arm today."
  
  "He is enduring the full punishment?" There was definitely surprise in his father's voice now.
  
  "The seas are many things," the Heir of Poseidon replied coldly. "Wild, untamed, violent, and vengeful to name but a few...but we take oaths very, very seriously. If my father had not accepted the punishment of Styx, he would have lost the respect of every Atlantean."
  
  By the standards of criticism, it was not a subtle one. And being quick to take on any offense, of course his dear father's face became angry and the Master Bolt flashed in his hands.
  
  "Not every God can afford taking a ten years-long leave from his duties," the King of the Gods affirmed.
  
  "Not every God would have the gall to break so many times his oath while vilifying the other parties having sworn their words on the Styx," the younger God replied with such bluntness that Ares was very tempted to cheer him. Alas his dear harpy of a mother gave him a withering look, and the God of Battles and Massacres had to limit himself to a mischievous smirk like Apollo did.
  
  "This is different." The Master Bolt wasn't directed at Triton or thundered loudly, but it was still in Zeus' hands. Too bad his father had both eyes on the Prince of Atlantis, because the expression of Hera was filled with pure loathing. "Do not waste my time. Why are you here, Prince?"
  
  "I am here to inform you that following the unjustified assassination of his mortal lover, my father has decided all imports from his domains are going to receive a one hundred percent-increase in taxes. We have also decided to build several of the new generation of warships somewhere else than your Eastern Coast shipyards. Furthermore..."
  
  Ares winced as for the next two minutes, a thorough plan to hurt Olympus' economy was explained point by point. Outside war, he couldn't exactly give his opinion, but the shipbuilding and the weapons lost touched his domain, and it wasn't going to be painless.
  
  His father's expression, understandably, was more thunderous than ever, not less.
  
  "Your father is ready to derail an entire sector of Olympian economy for a mere mortal?"
  
  Triton didn't seem very impressed by the outburst.
  
  "You, Lord Zeus, struck down Sally Jackson, my father's lover, because she was an easy target for your wrath after you were forced to transform your daughter into a pine tree. Don't shift the blame where it doesn't belong."
  
  These were not the words you said to the Master of Olympus if you wanted to calm him.
  
  "My daughter was innocent and someone summoned a horde of Hellhounds and monsters to kill her!"
  
  The Prince of Atlantis scoffed and looked at his nails.
  
  "No sword of Atlantis or any loyal servant of Atlantis would participate in such a cowardly operation. When we want to kill someone, we do it on a proper battlefield and we don't use intermediaries...and you know it perfectly." The Master Bolt grew twice bigger...an effect that was completely theatrical and unable to cow Triton into a respectful expression. "No, everyone knows Hades sent his hounds again your precocious Demigoddess. Why would he react like that, I wonder?"
  
  None of the other ten Gods and Goddesses dared whispering after this very rhetorical question was uttered.
  
  "I prevented a threat from-"
  
  "You are a hypocrite," Triton interrupted him, and the tension in the Throne Room reached new heights. "And the facts speak for themselves. Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. Maria di Angelo and Sally Jackson have been incinerated by your Master Bolt, only last-minute intervention saving their children from death. Yet you continue to sire more children and impregnate more mortal women. We are aware of four right now...and we're still waiting for you to show some penance for the first transgression of the Pact."
  
  "Are you threatening my children?"
  
  Ha! Ares smiled internally, because his dear mother was seething. Not surprising, she was aware of Thalia and Jason Grace, but not the ones who came after that.
  
  "As I said before, we Atlantean warriors have honour." The green-haired God calmly answered in a voice where the storms of the seas found their echo. "We won't blame children for their parent's mistakes...though no son or daughter of yours will be welcome for many years in Atlantis' halls. No, we are warning you that if you continue threatening my father's son or act against the Seas' interests on the surface, there will be war."
  
  "My brother's son represents a clear danger to Olympus!" Zeus roared. "The Fates have confirmed it. He must be sent to the Lotus Casino or another holdout where he won't be able to age."
  
  "You are in no position to make this demand, Lord of Olympus," the son of Amphitrite icily retorted. "And I question very much the danger a seven-years-old boy can pause to the Council ruling this world...especially when the attempted murder happened less than twenty-four hours after your daughter was lying mortally wounded. This isn't a question of Olympus' security or survival. You were angry my uncle sent his monsters kill your daughter, but unfortunately for you the Lotus Casino is not something you can destroy on a whim. So you unleashed your wrath on someone which had done the same mistake as the Lord of the Underworld."
  
  "I will not forget this."
  
  But the Heir to Poseidon wasn't done.
  
  "In the name of the Throne of Atlantis, I also urges to agree upon a summit of the Great Three to release everyone from the Great Oath. The events have proved it is useless to try to avoid this Great Prophecy if everyone continues to sire Demigods right and left and-"
  
  "GET. OUT!"
  
  18 July 2003, Charleston, United States of America
  
  Luke Castellan would remember the expression of surprise on his father's face for as long as he lived.
  
  It was good to have the confirmation you could astonish an immortal...though after the so-called prophecy was more than useless on his journey, the son of Hermes had already entertained thoughts the mummy was obsolete.
  
  "Yes, this is one of the golden apples of the Hesperides," the blonde teenager said as he posed the priceless fruit on the restaurant table where the meeting was taking place. "Freshly picked from the tree."
  
  "You have done very well, Luke," Hermes praised him, and despite having a lot of issues with the God, the Demigod felt better than ever hearing the words. "No problem with the dragon?"
  
  "If I had problems with Ladon, I think I wouldn't be here to speak with you today," the thief said drily. "I think he's bigger than several rockets...not that I wasted my time measuring them, I'm sure you understand. No, I make sure he remained deep asleep. If Heracles wasn't able to beat the dragon in single combat, why should I take the risk? The problem was more knocking out the Hesperides, they tried to sound the alert behind by my back. Speaking of which..." the blue-eyed Demigod showed a thoughtful expression to his father, "is there a reason why these nymphs could be mistaken as twins of Nightshade, Artemis' chief lieutenant of the Hunt?"
  
  "They are her sisters," Hermes' smile was nowhere in sight when he spoke again, his two serpents continuously hissing behind his back. "Zoë Nightshade was exiled after Heracles used her to steal the golden apples and discarded her immediately afterwards."
  
  "Ah," Luke grimaced. "So that's why she hates boys."
  
  There had been many questions asked by Greek and Roman Demigods alike when the Hunt had visited New Byzantium for the last time. Many of them had turned around the evident disgust the most powerful Huntresses felt for any person not a girl. Maybe disgust was not accurate, though. It was more fury bordering on hatred. If the followers of Artemis had their way, they would all be eunuchs before the year was out.
  
  "It's a good reason, don't you think?" and the young Castellan had a feeling his father wasn't speaking only about Nightshade.
  
  "It was long ago," he breathed out, "and our lives are too short to stew on hatred."
  
  "Well said son," Hermes gave him a solemn smile. "Well said. Now for your reward...I can buy you this apple for five million Drachmas."
  
  "Five million?" the son of the God of Trade and Bartering raised his voice in an offended tone, his instincts to gain the upper hand in the negotiation to come were all at high alert. "Did you see the size of the dragon? Ten million Drachmas, and not a coin less!"
  
  "I have to sell it back to Hera, you know, and she's going to be less than pleased I didn't warn her about this Quest," the God of Thieves replied back. "Six million."
  
  "Let the Queen of Gods pay a bigger price, then," the Demigod said unrepentantly. "Ten million."
  
  "Son, you really need to learn to properly bargain...let me show you how it's done..."
  
  22 December 2005, Olympus
  
  Dionysus loved December. So many parties happened that time of the year, how could it be otherwise? To make things better, consumption of wine was always at an all times high, and this was both pure source of worship and delight for his accounts...that he could invest in more parties. Third point and not the least, this gave him the opportunity to let his attention and divine presence spread away from Byzantium-Constantinople for a few hours. By the horns of the Minotaur, dealing with thousands of these rascals on a day-to-day basis was a torture. Was this what Sisyphus was feeling in the depths of Tartarus?
  
  Bah, better forget it. This was one more Winter Solstice over...meaning his punishment would end in precisely sixty years minus one day. This nymph had really cost him dearly. Sometimes, the God of Wine was really tempted to say the truth to his kingly genitor: seducing the beautiful lesser goddess had been Ariadne's idea and things had escaladed quickly after that. But knowing the legendary punishment of the 'God of Justice', it wasn't a good idea. The infidel husband was already peeved enough someone slept with the nymph before he could, to know two deities had fun with the sweetheart he coveted would not improve his mood.
  
  "Ah, Lucien Clark!" The Demigod he called out was called Luke Castellan, but Dionysus had a reputation to maintain. "Was your band of dangerous cutthroats and thieves not supposed to return to your barracks before midnight?"
  
  "We were, Mr. D.," the son of Hermes coughed in embarrassment, "that's the problem I wanted to talk to you about, in fact. Ten minutes ago, the lift stopped working. Half of our group is still blocked on Mount Olympus-"
  
  "You will have to try something better, Leeroy," a pity the last name of the boy didn't begin by a 'J', otherwise Dionysus would have added Jenkins. "This divine lift is neither early nor late, and arrives always on time. The only God who is able to block it is my divine father, and I see no reason why he would-"
  
  "WHO DARED? WHO HAD THE AUDACITY, THE STUPIDITY, THE DEATHWISH TO STEAL MY MASTER BOLT?" The furious scream was so sonorous the God of Wine and Madness was rather sure everyone on Olympus had heard him. Hell, even with the Mist, Dionysus was ready to bet a few mortals and monsters had heard it in the streets of New York City.
  
  "With due hindsight, maybe there is a good reason after all, Leon," the Olympian God nodded. Seriously, father? If the news of the thievery weren't known from San Francisco to Boston by dawn, he was ready to serve as Charon's replacement for the next year.
  
  Idly, Dionysus pushed a minuscule portion of his power on Castellan to sense if he had touched the divine weapons. The prophecies were more wrong than right these days, but the blonde boy was still a son of Hermes and a prime candidate for whatever apocalypse was in store for the short-term future.
  
  But this rapid evaluation came back perfectly negative, and for all the thief of the golden apple's talents, he could never have ran away to a sacred source of water, erase all magical traces of his crime, and come back within a few hours.
  
  "Tell the Demigods still here to be patient and return to the party," or what was left of it, anyway. For some unfathomable reason, the King's outburst had slightly crushed the party's ambiance. "I am going to the Throne Room and will return as soon as possible to return you to Byzantium-Constantinople."
  
  Dionysus flashed out at high velocity and arrived in the Throne Room where, as he feared, the six metres-high doors were wide open and the majestic tables where the symbol of power of Zeus should be presented was desperately empty.
  
  "MY MASTER BOLT HAS BEEN STOLEN!" Minor good news, this time his divine genitor wasn't screaming with all his divine voice's power...he was just screaming, which meant the effect was 'merely' unpleasant.
  
  "And my Trident has been stolen too," Uncle Poseidon grunted, because of course, a bad news couldn't come alone. Dionysus wanted to bash his head against the nearest wall. The first time the God of the Seas came to Olympus in twelve years, and this happened? What a wonderful event to improve relationships between the Sky and the Ocean...
  
  "This can't be a God or a Goddess' work," the Lord of Thunder growled like his elder brother had not spoken. The Ancient Laws make it impossible for us to steal our respective symbols of power..."
  
  Apollo and Artemis arrived at the same instant and the King of Gods' didn't waste any time interrogating them.
  
  "Tell me what you've found."
  
  "All the Demigods Dionysus and Chiron took with them to the Winter Solstice's Party are accounted for, either at Olympus or near the Empire State Building. None of them have wielded a divine weapon in the last one hundred hours, and all of them are ready to swear on the Styx," the hellish power was heard in the distance, as the Goddess of the Huntresses spoke, "that they have not entered the Throne Room."
  
  "Evidently, one of them is lying," Zeus said, clearly unconvinced and ill-humoured.
  
  "How?" Dionysus was not the only one to be fairly surprised as Ares intervened. "The doors of the Throne Room were closed by your own strength's father before the party began. While there was no magical seal to prevent intrusions, no single Demigod could have opened them on his own. And if I am ready to admit we may have lost sight of one to two Demigods during several minutes, we didn't forget about them for hours or days. They certainly didn't have time to run to the Underworld and drink the waters of the Lethe."
  
  "Opportunity or not, one of them did do it," the Master of Olympus insisted. "We invited one hundred and twenty Demigods, escorted by Chiron and Dionysus. No one else has the means and the ability to steal my symbol of power!"
  
  By the way his genitor always insisted on 'his' Master Bolt and didn't even mention Poseidon's, the God of Wine could feel the annoyance of the God of Seas and Earthquakes from here.
  
  "Not exactly," Hephaestus arrived in a cascade of energy more similar to viscous magma than pure red light. "I examined the lift as you commanded, father. There weren't one hundred and twenty Demigods who took it last evening. They were one hundred and twenty-one."
  
  "And the alarms and other systems of security didn't destroy him or her instantly?" Hera questioned with this snobbish and haughty attitude she always reserved for the ugly God of Smiths. "I believed you insisted about the latest military overhaul that the defences were flawless and impregnable."
  
  For sole answer Hephaestus clicked between his fingers, and a large screen bearing the logo of Vulcan TV Incorporated materialised in the Throne Room. The quality of the image was hardly prime material, but it was enough to see a young woman with black hair and olive skin hand to the receptionist the golden authorisation one had to possess if one wanted to be admitted to Mount Olympus.
  
  There was a fast forward of nearly two hours, and then the anonymous Demigoddess, a girl which had to be between twelve and fourteen given the video available, returned to the lobby of the receptionist, except this time she carried a massive backpack, one she seemed to be eager to show before the cameras of Hephaestus.
  
  If this wasn't a clue enough, the last seconds saw the black-haired girl outright stick her tongue out in a clear symbol of mockery.
  
  "So that's our thief," Hermes chuckled, "I love her style!"
  
  "Hermes..." Poseidon seemed to take it with good humour. Alas, it wasn't the case of Zeus. "If I learn you have helped her, Dionysus' punishment at New Byzantium will be funny and short-timed compared to what you will receive..."
  
  "Err...sorry! Sorry!" The God of Thieves and Celerity realised the peril he had unwittingly come so close too. "No! I mean, no, I didn't help the thief to steal your Master Bolt!"
  
  The wing-helmeted God was sweating profusely, to the great amusement of Ares and Aphrodite.
  
  "Dionysus! Who is this Demigod?"
  
  "I haven't the faintest idea, father." The God of Wine replied honestly and truthfully. "As numerous as the rascals, brats, and good-for-nothing vandals you are sending me are, I don't remember any girl looking like that. This isn't a Demigoddess under my authority."
  
  "How could it be?" Apollo was more astonished than trying to contest his words, but Dionysus promised to spike his drink with something horribly embarrassing at the earliest opportunity. "She had the proper clearance to make sure the alert wasn't sounded. Only..."
  
  "Yes," Zeus started in a grim voice, "only one of the Council has the authority and the power to deliver these documents."
  
  "I think I saw someone looking like this girl before..."Demeter frowned.
  
  "This isn't completely exact," Athena countered. "Fourteen of us have the authority to open all the doors, lifts and temples we want. And while Hestia is above suspicion," the Goddess of Hearths' presence somewhere nearby was pretty noticeable, like a comfortable source of warmth, "the last of the Fourteenth was here early tonight, and he certainly didn't mention his symbol of power was stolen before leaving."
  
  "Hades," Zeus said darkly.
  
  "Yes," his favourite daughter said with the detached calm she was always using during Council sessions.
  
  "Wait a minute," Apollo protested. "I mean, our Uncle isn't the most charming God, not like me, but he's still taking his oaths very seriously. Why would he do something so brazen?"
  
  Ares smiled widely.
  
  "While the Lord of the Underworld has not access to legions of Cyclops like my Lord Father and Lord Uncle here clearly have, the ownership of the Master Bolt and the Trident would allow him to make copies. After all, no matter his aspects and appearances, our eldest Uncle has all the wealth of the Underworld and the deep earth at his disposal. He can certainly find thousands of artisans, smiths, and weapon-makers to build himself an arsenal."
  
  "Ares speaks true," Zeus approved.
  
  "And yet what good would it provide him?" Poseidon disagreed. "Our eldest brother could theoretically build himself an arsenal of divine weapons...but at great cost and in a matter of years, while those of Olympus and Atlantis are ready to be used at a moment's notice. My own stockpiles have improved Tridents which make the one who was stolen a child's toy. No, Hades isn't the one we must looking for-"
  
  "Hermes," Athena rudely interrupted the God of the Seas, which everyone knew was deliberate. "Go to the Lotus Casino immediately. I think I know why this girl feels so familiar to Demeter."
  
  The God of Celerity and Messengers raced away in silver light, and most of the Council was paling as they began to take the implications of what had possibly happened tonight.
  
  Dionysus understood the implications too. Hades had sworn his children would stay at the Lotus Casino for as long as the Great Prophecy was active. If they weren't there anymore...
  
  Hermes came back and his livid tone told the Gods and Goddesses everything they needed to know.
  
  "The di Angelo children are gone. I couldn't get a precise timetable, but I think they were removed three months ago. I don't know who managed to get them out. All those who were there had their memories of the event erased."
  
  "By the pits..." Apollo swore, and no one told him his reaction was wrong. Three months of real time had passed since effectively the Great Prophecy had accelerated towards its explosive climax. Granted, there were a son of Poseidon and a son of Jupiter who could be candidates too. Still, a daughter and a son of Hades had grown three months older...and nobody had been the wiser.
  
  "Hermes."
  
  "Yes, father!" the God of Thieves understood it wasn't the time for jokes as he snapped in a military stance, temporarily taking the form of his Roman avatar Mercury.
  
  "You are going to send an ultimatum to the Throne of the Underworld," Zeus growled threateningly. "Hades is to return the stolen symbols of power to Olympus and his spawns are to be delivered to Dionysus' care at New Byzantium...or the armies of Olympus will take them back with thunder and sword!"
  
  3 May 2006, Detroit, Michigan, United States of America
  
  Ethan Nakamura had few reasons to be happy these days. As everyone who was not deaf, blind and stupid, the son of Nemesis knew war was imminent. Not a small war between two mortal-ruled countries or a war game the Legions played regularly, oh no. It was civil war between the Gods of Olympus who was on the horizon. And since Ethan was not dumb enough to trust the proclamations coming from Apollo and the other Olympians, they were all pawns in this conflict.
  
  A good strategist knew that pawns were always made to be sacrificed in the end. Oh, one or two may have the chance to win immortality when the battles were won, but this fate never was the lot of the children of Nemesis...or any of the Gods' children not having a seat at the Council of Olympus, really.
  
  This was the sort of millennia-old injustice which made his blood boil. But today, it would have to wait. The Quest came first, and it looked like it was going to be a hell's pit of its own.
  
  "The Exploratores have massively underestimated the scale of the enemy's foundry," the black-haired Demigod commented as he lowered his magical binoculars.
  
  "Or they have expanded it in the last two months," Dakota, son of Bacchus, added on his right.
  
  Ethan didn't glare, but it wasn't the motivation which was missing for him. He wasn't one of the purists who believed Greek-born were destined to become Questers before they were able to walk and Roman-born were sired to become Legionnaires, but he didn't like having the son of Bacchus as a fellow Quester.
  
  "Let's see the positive side," their fearless leader smiled. "We are certain this is the location we're looking for."
  
  "Four Cyclops and more than two hundred and fifty skeleton warriors in the middle of a Detroit factory supposedly dismantled by the Olympians after World War II?" Ethan shook his head. "The Mist-burners alone make this operation a colossal expenditure for the enemy."
  
  "Officially, the Rich One isn't the enemy." Luke Castellan affirmed.
  
  Ethan snorted.
  
  "Somehow, I don't think the shipments coming out of this Cyclops industrial zone are paint guns." The son of Nemesis said sarcastically.
  
  "It could be a false-flag operation." The black-eyed teenager gave the son of Hermes his best dubitative expression. "I do not see the seal of his House anywhere on the containers."
  
  The Demigod who had established the record of Quests for the last two centuries before his eighteenth birthday had a point.
  
  "I will give you that. Still, whether the Dark One is behind this or not, this foundry-factory is clearly operated by non-allied Cyclops, and this make it a legitimate target. Do we begin?"
  
  Luke Castellan examined the defences of the Cyclops' base for a few more seconds - two walls, and numerous inimical death engines plus of course the skeleton monsters - before giving his assent.
  
  "Yes, we begin. We must infiltrate this base and locate the Stygian Iron shipment before they use their skills to forge it into Demigod-slaying weapons."
  
  This was the foremost reason they were here today. Unlike Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold, which the three Demigods were currently armed with, metal forged in Stygian Iron were capable of injuring everything they stabbed, monsters and humans, mortals and immortals. The latter would survive, but they would nonetheless feel the pain.
  
  And the Cyclops of this foundry were rumoured to have received a 'sizeable' shipment weeks ago.
  
  "Dakota, the western complex is yours. Ethan, you sabotage the eastern complex. I am going to cripple the central Forge. We meet here back in one hour. And Dakota...stop drinking this Kool-Aid. You're going to attract monsters by the scent of your drinks alone."
  
  The son of Nemesis couldn't repress a snicker, because Castellan, favourite son of Hermes or not, had definitely a point there.
  
  Infiltrating the complex wasn't hard. The patrols of the skeletons were so predictable climbing the walls with rope and sneaking through their defences was simplicity itself...maybe too easy.
  
  The foundries and all the industrial apparatus was not exactly defended by impressive things. Ethan had to stab in the back a skeleton warrior which hindered his progression, but the Cyclops were so loud you heard them coming minutes ahead, and once you had tested yourself against the traps of Hephaestus' children, the so-called 'Cyclops' traps' were easy to avoid.
  
  The sabotage of the tools and everything was done in record time, the demolition charges awaited only his activation of a detonator. There was only one problem.
  
  There was no trace of any Stygian Iron. Not an ingot, a medallion, or a short sword. Chiron had showed one tiny shard of this cursed metal to them, and the presence was pretty much impossible to forget or to mistake for something else, with this unnatural cold and this nasty purple Mist-aura.
  
  And Ethan had a sick idea why. The enormous hammers, magma vats, and the hyper-advanced Cyclopean machinery was left inactive while it was the middle of the day...this was not these monsters' common behaviour. There was only one reason why they would not be at work. They were shipping out the Stygian Iron weapons out.
  
  Sure enough, as he left the complex behind him, the four massive Cyclops were busy loading enormous containers on something looking like the very picture of a 'chariot of damnation'.
  
  Ethan began to run faster, and on his left, he saw Luke was running towards him too. Good, if they united, they could-
  
  A training of several years proved its worth, as suddenly all his instincts told him to find cover, which the son of Nemesis did by hiding behind a tractor.
  
  One second later, a meteor smashed into the courtyard, disintegrating most of the Cyclops into golden dust - true gold, the monsters once they died were an enormous source of income - and throwing the contents of the 'chariot of the damned' everywhere.
  
  "What in my mother's whip?"
  
  A chariot descended from the skies. That in itself was not too unusual when you lived among Demigods, but what towed the chariot was. Because Ethan knew Pegasi could do the job, and the same was true about special breeds of divine horses, dragons, and bulls. But he had never thought a chariot could be towed by stone gargoyles!
  
  "Luke," he coughed, as the explosion had spread around plenty of smoke, and not the benevolent kind. "I think I'm beginning to have hallucinations..."
  
  "Hallucinations where a boy in orange toga is driving a chariot towed by grimacing gargoyles?" the blonde son of Hermes asked.
  
  "Yes..."
  
  This wasn't the most ridiculous attire he had ever seen, not with Mr. D overseeing barracks and city - or not overseeing them, if one was to be honest.
  
  But it was...gaudy. It was impossible to say something about the boy's body, for everything was hidden behind this sort of altered toga, which as the chariot landed in a thunderous series of clangs, was revealed to be indeed orange, though there were golden hems too, and here and there, sinister skulls shone in a malevolent light.
  
  None of this mattered because for a fraction of a second, Ethan stared at the green eyes...and recoiled like he was avoiding a dangerous monster.
  
  Nemesis and her children were supposed to make sure people couldn't rely entirely on luck alone to win. True success had to come by long preparations, vigorous efforts, and painful sacrifice. It wasn't popular. But such was life.
  
  Yet this was the first time Ethan met someone who absolutely didn't care.
  
  The skeleton warriors tried to kill him, of course. They charged him or tried to use their modern assault guns. A swarm of gargoyles fell upon them, while several tried to recover the Stygian weapons.
  
  Luke was faster than the stone monsters, and in a display of swordsmanship beyond Ethan, managed to explode two of them. Judging by the expression of disapproval, these were indeed the ones the orange-clad boy had come for.
  
  "You two are gifted, no doubt about it!" the black haired, green-eyed boy guffawed. "I have a proposition for you. Your talents as Heroes are clearly not paid to their just value given your obsolete equipment. Join me. I have great need for a couple of treacherous lieutenants. What do you say?"
  
  The guy wanted them...as treacherous lieutenants...why kind of drug was he smoking?
  
  "And what are you going to say if we say 'no'?" Ethan answered.
  
  "I would say you'd better run fast." The crazy gargoyle-master said while petting one of the biggest stone monsters.
  
  "Threats, while you're already trying to recruit us?"
  
  "You mistake me-"
  
  A series of red-barbed arrows went to slam against several gargoyles, which didn't seem to be hurt, but shrieked in outrage.
  
  "I wasn't speaking about myself." The mad boy joyously said as he returned to his chariot. "I have the Amazons on my tail after a tragic misunderstanding in one of their depots about some mishandled property. There's also-"
  
  The eastern wall broke apart, revealing a three metres-tall monstrous creature that every Demigod had heard about. Bull head, human-bestial body, armour of skulls, bones and dark metal, a double axe larger than a human was tall, and a pestilential odour of death.
  
  Yes, it was the Minotaur.
  
  "My dear Uncle seems to consider my existence a blight for all creation." The green-eyed boy who had to be a Demigod for all his insanity declared cheekily.
  
  "You're utterly-"
  
  An arrow took the Minotaur in the chest and the last several skeletons on the walls were pulverised by silver arrows shining with moon-light power.
  
  "And I may have stolen a shipment of bows destined to the Huntresses," if the previous statements hadn't convinced Ethan the foundry's invader had lost all his marbles and survival instinct, this proved it without question. You didn't anger Artemis' Huntresses...never...and certainly not when you were a male.
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  "Ah, the sweet voice of Miss Nightshade..."
  
  "She's going to castrate you...if you're lucky."
  
  "If she can catch me, you mean," the crazy boy laughed. "Spread the words, heroes. Today, you have, almost, just almost, derailed my plans. But this isn't over! This isn't the end of my story! Gargoyles! Take-Off!"
  
  A rain of arrows fell down on the stone creations. It failed to destroy them. And the chariot rose again in the sky...
  
  There was a gigantic flash and the sound of thunder, Zeus' wrath made manifest.
  
  The chariot fell and crashed as hundreds of Huntresses invested the Cyclops' foundry.
  
  Impossibly, the orange-wearing boy was still alive, as he emerged uninjured from the divine punishment.
  
  "That was the best you could do, Zeus?" The insane - no, insane wasn't enough to describe this madness. Hundreds of Amazons and Huntresses were taking position on the walls, the Minotaur was charging to kill him, and the thunder clouds were gathering in a very, very threatening manner above his head. "Try again, if you dare!"
  
  Author's note:
  
  For the record, I am a big fan of the Percy Jackson series (and the books which came after in the same universe too) and I am properly awed by the world-building Rick Riordan did.
  
  Yet (because there is a yet) during all books, I think it is fair to say that while the heroes answer the call, the Greek-Roman Pantheon is entirely bungling the whole war effort, whether the enemy is Titans, Elder Giants, or megalomaniac Roman Emperors. Unprepared, reacting poorly and in the wrong order, the good decisions are often taken months too late and as the circumstances have changed so much they are in many ways irrelevant. And it has to be said, between Zeus, Dionysus and the other Olympians, the Demigods have a lot of reasons to hate the Gods' guts.
  
  I mean, you can count the number of times your divine parent visit you on your two hands, and in exchange you get an extraordinary dangerous life, filled with monsters a potentially horrible death, when said demise doesn't happen because a God decides to change you into a dolphin or incinerates you on the spot.
  
  Let's be realistic for a single minute: the Gods are not the good side against the Titans and the other side, they are just the lesser evil, and that's because the 'other side' is very evil. Fortunately for Olympus, they got Percy Jackson, a Demigod whose fatal flaw is Loyalty. Why fortunately? Because when most deities discuss calmly to kill you after you saved the day several times, in general one's loyalty should slightly waver.
  
  So I asked myself the question: what if the Gods truly got the Champion/Hero they deserved by their blunders and fits of jealousy and unbridled destruction?
  
  Of course, the more I thought about it, the more I realised the Greek-Roman Gods and Goddesses didn't really deserve a Hero given the kind of stunts they regularly made. They deserved a villain.
  
  Enter Kairos Theodosian, Tyrant of Helike, one of the 'classical villainy' guys of the A Practical Guide to Evil series.
  
  Some research later and a truly entirely different plot from canon, and I decided to give it a try for a week. And so begin the wild ride of An Impractical Guide to Godhood...
  
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  Irritant's Law
  Chapter 2
  
  Irritant's Law
  
  "Irritant's Law: inevitable doom is a finite resource, and becomes mere doom when split between multiple heroic bands. Nemeses should never simultaneously engage a single villain." Extract from 'The Axiom Appendix', multiple contributors
  
  3 May 2006, Detroit, Michigan, United States of America
  
  This was the most exciting fun Perseus had in years.
  
  After all these months of misdirection, hiding in the shadows, and meticulously assembling his trinkets, seeing all the servants of the Gods assembled to kill him was extremely satisfying.
  
  The only thing that made it better was the fact that Zeus at the moment had to throw a legendary fit of rage on Olympus, being forced to acknowledge that his will of destruction had been denied again.
  
  It was well worth the months it had taken him to find this amulet the Lord of Thunder had once given to the Goddess Persephone as one of her marriage presents. The amulet had drawbacks, as per the rules of these objects. It would take a month to regain this capacity of blocking a thunderbolt attack. But it would be enough. Zeus wouldn't dare striking twice. The humiliation of trying and failing twice in a row aside - and the Gods definitely cared about that sort of things - he was entirely surrounded by red-armoured Amazons and silver-clad Huntresses. Trying to kill him would definitely kill a lot of them, and therefore anger Ares and Artemis respectively. Because yes, the champions of economic warfare were dedicated servants of Ares. Who knew the War God had such cunning in him?
  
  "JACKSON! DIE!"
  
  Truly if Zoë Nightshade had been a Named of Calernia, she would have been the Man-Hater. The son of Poseidon hadn't been able to learn the full story of what Heracles had done to her - his network of informants was very tight-lipped on the subject - but as a master of irritating everyone, the ex-Tyrant had two hypotheses standing above all the other.
  
  First, the Huntress had been already mentally unstable before Heracles tricked her. Since she was a Hesperides, a daughter of Atlas, and lived with a one hundred-headed dragon for sole companion, this couldn't be dismissed out of hand.
  
  Or second, Heracles had taken her virginity. The more times he met her, the more Perseus was thinking this was the correct option.
  
  "My dear Nightshade," he threw his orange clothes right in her face as she tried to impale him with her dagger. She avoided it easily, but the two Amazons coming right behind her didn't. Yes, he had conventional armour behind said toga. He was a villain, not stupid. "You have forgotten a detail..."
  
  "A detail, boy?" Damn, the girl was really good with her daggers. Better to not draw out the fight. The Huntress was less powerful than him, but she had millennia of experience and could count upon hundreds of allies. "You are going to die! Amazons, Huntresses, even the Minotaur! Everyone will cheer when we flay your skin and carry it on a shield to Olympus!"
  
  "Now that's just rude, my dear Huntress..." seriously, this poor girl had never heard about Irritant's law. "But yes, details first. To begin with, the Minotaur's name is Asterius. And he is not on your side."
  
  The next second over a dozen Huntresses went flying as the large double axe of his 'partner' struck them violently - though not lethally, Huntresses were tough and it was better to not antagonise too much the Goddess Artemis.
  
  The horrified expression on Zoë Nightshade's face was utterly priceless.
  
  "You, you-"
  
  "Yes, dear?"
  
  "YOU ARE CONSORTING WITH BEASTS?" The black-haired huntress was so enraged even her followers took two steps back.
  
  Perseus of course could not let that pass.
  
  "This is an evident case of racist speech. The Olympus Subcommittee on Partial-Human Affairs will be informed of this egregious insult. Asterius has fifty percent of human genetic material in him, and thus deserves to be part of the grand family of humanity!"
  
  "But..." An Amazon spluttered in anger, one of their platoon-leaders if he had to guess. "He's a monster!"
  
  "That my dear, is exactly the kind of ideas which are stopping Demigods from advancing to a new golden age!"
  
  "The monsters are a bane upon all creation!" a Huntress shouted.
  
  "Funny," he smiled. "How many Demigods are killed by monsters every year? How many monsters are killed by Huntress every year for the sole reason of having nice fur the Lady of the Hunt wants to improve the contents of her wardrobes at Olympus?"
  
  "Not just the fur," one of the Heroes drinking heavily atop the rampart a flask of Kool-Aid declared. "Everything with scales can be part of a Quest. And not just their Lady. Several Goddesses love the snake-themed handbags thing."
  
  "Lord Ares is often asking us to go after wolves and boars," one of the Amazons reluctantly agreed.
  
  As predicted, the moment of indecision spread everywhere, as soon all Demigoddesses and other servants of the Gods had numerous stories to share about their patrons'...err...extremely weird fashion tendencies.
  
  With a single exception, of course. A Huntress seemed very, very angry her soldiers and the Amazons were staring to talk instead of fighting.
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  "Perseus Jackson," he replied like these excellent movies of James Bond. He was watching them over and over regularly. It was splendid inspiration for his most audacious schemes. "Yes, this is my name."
  
  "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"
  
  "Guilty as charged." The son of Sally Jackson smiled. "Oh, and you shouldn't stand near this hole. I trapped the sewers beneath it with orange paint..."
  
  "YOU LIE!"
  
  Evading Asterius' axe once more, Perseus used his hydrokinesis to prove her wrong once more.
  
  Unfortunately, his calculations had been a bit wrong; instead of a respectable but limited flow of orange-coloured water, the explosion which occurred was...a bit larger. Like several times larger, beginning to drown the entire foundry in orange water, which, as it came from the sewers, was hardly the most pleasant-
  
  Wait a minute. Why did it smell like roses and flowers?
  
  "Asterius. We're leaving," he told his partner as Nightshade was trying to extract herself from the gelatine-like paint she had received everywhere. Stealing the familiar object from one of the stunned 'treacherous lieutenants', the green-eyed boy pressed the red button and immediately the buildings began to explode behind him. "Let's begin our dramatic escape."
  
  "Right, short one," the Minotaur approved, blasting apart a wall with his axe.
  
  "I am not short, my friend! I will just need several years to reach my full potential of height, beauty, and irritation!"
  
  In the sheer chaos created, no more than a couple of Amazons and Huntresses tried to pursue, and they were all easily dealt with.
  
  "Yes, short one." Perseus sighed before beginning to run to keep pace with his ally. Was it something the Band of Five of his former existence were famous for and he had missed by random luck?
  
  "Well, this day was full of surprises," he admitted. "The presence of the Amazons and the Huntresses was taken into account, but our spies hadn't warned us Byzantium was going to send three Questers here. Someone will need to be reminded that we pay to have trustful information, not-"
  
  Asterius and Perseus stopped running. Someone was barring their escape, and given the Mist engulfing this part of Detroit, it was certainly not a mortal cursed by tragic circumstances to be here at the wrong time.
  
  And She was not.
  
  As the light of the late afternoon, both warriors did their best not to gape at the vision of martial beauty which was advancing towards them.
  
  During his reign where he was called Kairos Theodosian, he had seen beautiful women, not all of them Queens or even of noble birth, but still. His new life as Perseus Jackson had allowed him to see more of them, especially as the Huntresses and other 'pursuers' had often the odd children of a deity among them, and few of them could be described as ugly. Yet none could stand the comparison against her.
  
  She was wearing violet armour lavishly decorated with golden symbols of dove and roses. An enormous amethyst just below her beasts was encircled by two golden doves. Everything seemed to be made to mix seduction and war, for Perseus didn't doubt it was functional war equipment. And her face...Gods - the call seemed appropriate - her hair were like woven platinum, her skin tone was the kind of elegant pink most women were known to kill for, while her pure blue eyes could and had likely broken millions of hearts.
  
  Despite the strangeness of the sword in her right hand - an Asian sabre, if he had to guess - there wasn't much doubt who had decided to intervene. That she was three metres-tall was a slight clue of her divine power, after all.
  
  "Aphrodite," Asterius growled.
  
  "Venus," the son of Poseidon corrected. "Venus Victrix or Venus Genetrix," the most militant forms of the Goddess of Love in the Roman Pantheon, Victory by and for Love, and the Mother of Rome. This was...a problem. Even someone blind and deaf could have seen the sheer power burning in this extraordinary appearance, and he was sure this was only a small portion of the Goddess' power...trust a deity to add insult to the injury. "We didn't sacrifice enough goats, I guess."
  
  "This isn't about sacrifices, infernal duo."
  
  "Good. That will make it easier to do-" no, he hadn't been able to monologue. Just to throw an explosive stolen in one of Apollo's storage facilities, one supposed to illuminate an entire city with a fraction of the sun's brightness, hopefully giving them the moment to escape.
  
  Vain hope.
  
  He managed to avoid the first pink blast which came at him, except it was a feint all along.
  
  In a sword move that was so fluid and elegant it was almost considered an art...the Goddess separated Asterius in two neat parts. The wound instantly began to burn in pink fire and a second later there was nothing left of his ally.
  
  "Do you realise how much investment it is to bribe someone in Hell to let him escape?" He asked in exasperation, summoning two gargoyles and trying not to be eviscerated by these pink lasers. "This is not-"
  
  Suddenly, She was there, touching his forehead with the armoured finger that she had increased in appearance with dark red-purple long gloves of some divine velvet.
  
  "Drop your weapon and your amulets."
  
  Perseus dropped his weapon and his amulets. Given how she had killed Asterius, Perseus could easily guess what a finger push would do to his head, and it wouldn't be pretty.
  
  "We need to have a serious conversation."
  
  "Lady Venus, I do not doubt your words, but the Huntresses-"
  
  It was then he realise that the surroundings of this unexpected battlefield were...not frozen, but pulsing, like they were flies caught in some sort of viscous material. The Goddess of Love had used her powers to alter the march of time...what a terrifying power.
  
  "Love is both ephemeral and eternal," the platinum-blonde Goddess said as if she could read his thoughts - which she probably did, now that he thought about it..."No, I can't read your thoughts, son of Poseidon. There is no connection between us...yet."
  
  The green-eyed Demigod didn't like the last words for obvious reasons.
  
  "I'm going to take your word for it, my Lady," a fake smile later, he made an ironic salute and searched for another discussion to flee. "Now since it was a pleasure to meet your peerless presence and I hope to not have offended you in any way," at least he shouldn't have, the Demigod he was stayed far away from Aphrodite-Venus temples and worshippers, better avoid the unpleasant consequences of those who badmouthed her. "I am going to be on my way, the Huntresses are going to want to plant my skull on their banners and-"
  
  "Your plans will fail."
  
  The words were uttered in such a melodious voice it was almost a sin to listen to it.
  
  "I assure you," the ex-Tyrant smiled roguishly, "I have anticipated every betrayal." Since the only beings he trusted moderately were his gargoyles and Asterius, it was not like he could be betrayed that much.
  
  "But you underestimate how much the Master of Olympus wants you dead," Venus said in her angelic voice. "Your calculus is that as long as he needs your father to wage war against your uncle, he won't act against you. It is prescient...and false."
  
  For the third time of the day, Perseus was disagreeably surprised.
  
  "It will cost him the war and possibly his throne, if he do that," Poseidon had never tried to contact him directly, it was far too dangerous for his life-expectancy, but there were...assurances, yes let's call them assurances, that if he kicked the bucket, war between Seas and Skies would be the next seasonal event.
  
  Of course, in the last three years, the Lord of Olympus had so far refrained to blast him with his lightning bolts...
  
  "It may. You will still be dead."
  
  The Goddess of Love, much as he didn't want to vocally admit it, had a good point there.
  
  "And honestly, dear Perseus," the son of Poseidon tried to not flinch when the purple gloves touched his face, "you must realise you are far from ready to confront a lesser God, much less one as powerful myself. You are clearly one of the most imaginative and powerful Demigods since the Fall of Rome, an extraordinary feat since you have yet to celebrate your thirteenth birthday. But there is no way you can beat the cup-bearer of the Gods, much less their Master, whether you are prepared for it or not. You are intelligent, you know what will happen if you fight against an Olympian like myself."
  
  Perseus Jackson gritted his teeth. Some part of him, the Tyrant One, wanted to scream at her, proclaiming it wasn't a question of winning or not, it was a question of style and villainy. The more vengeful part of him didn't agree. Zeus had buried countless Demigods having delusions of overthrowing him.
  
  "I bow to your superior information-gathering resources," the bane of many Huntresses and Amazons bowed again cheekily before swaggering like a professional athlete having just won a few medals at the Olympic games. "However, there's still a little problem, Your Rosy Divinity. Goats or not, doomed to failure or not, the strategy I've chosen is the only game in town."
  
  As amusing or not-amusing was the reality of being one of the most wanted Demigods in the whole world, it was the only game in town.
  
  Venus was amused, at least.
  
  "You used goats next to Rosy Divinity on purpose, didn't you?" The purple-gold armoured Goddess chuckled. "But you're wrong. There is a way. You need to go to New Byzantium."
  
  It was an irregular occurrence where Perseus found no retort, but this one definitely qualified.
  
  "Out of the question," the green-eyed boy immediately declared, trying to ignore how the longer he stayed in her presence, the faster the rings supposed protecting his mind against outside influence seemed to lose potency. "The Lord of Olympus has already proven his own laws can be discarded in the name of expediency," which was a monumentally stupid thing to do, in his opinion, since violating one law weakened all of them, "the moment I pass the city's boundaries, he's going to incinerate me...if I'm lucky."
  
  Honestly, given the sum of Drachmas stolen in the last five years from Zeus' tax-collectors, Perseus wasn't going to trust him farther than he could throw the Lord of the Sky, and since the God was certainly taller than Venus, this wasn't far at all.
  
  Yes, he knew where New Byzantium was, he wasn't going to pretend the contrary to a Goddess. But there were a lot of excellent reasons he avoided the city and everything inside or near it, including the fact it was on the doorstep of Olympus.
  
  "He won't now, as a new agreement has been signed with your father," a golden clock materialised from nowhere, "the agreement should be active...now."
  
  "How convenient," Perseus mocked. "And I suppose that the Master of Olympus is going to accept me among the other Demigods, one of them being his prized Roman son, with a fond smile and a tap on the back?"
  
  "He will," Venus purred, "if you prove your loyalty to Olympus."
  
  The twelve-years-old Demigod was tired and not in his best mood...but it didn't take him long to realise what the Goddess of Love implied.
  
  "You're joking..." seeing no retort to confirm it pretty much gave him some really, really bad vibes. "Recovering the Master Bolt and the Trident on my own? Really?"
  
  It was true that if he was successful, Zeus would have to tolerate his existence for a few months...at worse. For all his paranoia and arrogance, no God could punish those who saved the day without the whole edifice crashing down in the next minutes.
  
  "On your own? Not exactly. A Great Quest has been called."
  
  For all the good it was going to do, he wanted to shout, but since there was a Goddess in front of him...
  
  Nevertheless, the existence of a Quest didn't surprise him, nor was the fact it was a major one supposed to include twelve full Demigods. This was logical, the Gods always preferred to bleed their very mortal children than wage an open conflict themselves.
  
  But there was a reason this Quest had not begun, while the whole 'Mist-world' knew the symbol of powers had been stolen at the Winter Solstice, which was more than four months ago. Invading the Hells ruled by Hades was something few Heroes had ever attempted, and most were still in the Underworld to this day.
  
  "No, I will have to decline, Lady Venus. As enjoyable as it would be to avoid lightning bolts for the next year or so, I prefer staying out of Hell for some time, and it isn't going to happen if I happen to accept this Quest, I-"
  
  The Goddess was suddenly behind him, whispering directly in his ears so close there was no way anyone would ear, and the violet Mist grew so thick one couldn't see two metres away.
  
  "You aspire to be a Godslayer?" the blonde Goddess hissed. "I desire to get rid of a husband. Bring back the Symbols of Power from the Underworld, and I will make you my Champion."
  
  "Ah...betrayal...you should have begun with that, my Lady..." the son of Poseidon had believed at first the Goddess was standing for Order, but in fact she was closer to the Hell Gods of Below of his previous life. "I will want a more...formal discussion to negotiate the terms of our alliance."
  
  An alliance he was ironically sure, none of them had really any interest in betraying. Zeus would be less than amused if someone told him the Goddess of Love was conspiring against him, and he unfortunately had not so many Gods supporting him he could afford throwing one to the pits.
  
  "You will have one...provided you succeed in your Quest." Venus raised a platinum-blonde eyebrow. "You will abide by this new plan?"
  
  "And treacherously continue my journey of chaotic schemes every step of the way," he swore solemnly.
  
  "I predict interesting love adventures ahead of you, dear Perseus," the Lady of Rome smirked before dissipating the Mist. "Now I apologise in advance, but I have to present a loyal mask to the Council."
  
  "It involves beating me up, I suppose?" This day absolutely sucked, and in more ways than one. "You can tell him I know who Asterius' real father is...by the way, how old are you?"
  
  He hadn't the time to count to ten before his world exploded in pain.
  
  Ethan had to admit it, until today, he had thought the children of Aphrodite were useless in a fight, and the children of Venus were not far behind it. As for Aphrodite or Venus Herself? No, the son of Nemesis would prefer practically any deity in a serious fight, thanks.
  
  Okay, everything he had said about Aphrodite or Venus before? Ethan withdrew it. Immediately. Unconditionally.
  
  The sight of a purple-armoured Goddess administrating a merciless beat-down to a Demigod who had handed them their heads on a tray was a shivering reminder that no Goddess was powerless and that when you angered them...well, that was the result.
  
  This part of Detroit had suddenly become an apocalyptic war zone. Venus' opponent had tried once more to summon the water from the sewers, and the damage to the streets and the houses was absolutely catastrophic. Yet for all these efforts, the Goddess had not a scratch on her doves of gold, nor was her pink cape had a single mark or blemish upon it.
  
  As for the Minotaur, who had against millennia of traditions decided to stand with a Demigod, he was nowhere in sight. Ethan was ready to bet he was on his way to Tartarus' pit by now.
  
  The Huntresses laughed as the battle ended. They rapidly shut up as the vision of purple, platinum, and gold glared at them before turning back her attention to the Demigod crawling at her feet.
  
  "Well, Perseus?"
  
  "Your arguments," the boy managed to joke while half of his body was simply broken, "are absolutely shattering. I am submitting to your wisdom, you will have no more loyal servant than I!"
  
  And then the black-haired boy closed his eyes and stopped moving.
  
  "Good," the blue-eyed Goddess purred, and Ethan suddenly had an urge to rush towards her and prostrate himself in the blossoming desire she granted him a smile. "Son of Hermes!"
  
  Luke immediately jumped forwards. Ah so the great hero of the Hesperides Quest wasn't immunised to Her power.
  
  "Lady Venus?"
  
  "I and this Demigod have reached an accord, backed by his father, who if you had failed to realise, is Lord Poseidon Himself."
  
  Ethan had his suspicions, but the announcement felt like a cold shower...no bad pun intended after what they had just endured with all the sewers drowning them.
  
  The deity threw the favourite son of Hermes a box of Ambrosia and Nectar.
  
  "Heal him and bring him to New Byzantium. Your Director has been informed of his upcoming arrival. There is-"
  
  "NO!"
  
  Ethan tried very hard to stay immobile and be as insignificant as possible. For when she had been interrupted, the eyes of the Goddess had began to burn in purple fire, and the ground near her feet was suddenly melting and transforming into golden doves with...err...aggressive blue eyes.
  
  "Zoë Nightshade..." the commander of Artemis' Huntresses was suddenly very alone as the Amazons took several step backs...many step backs, as the Goddess of Love uttered her name like it was poison. "You of all people should know better than interrupting me."
  
  "This boy has stolen from Lady Artemis! The penalty for this crime is death!"
  
  "And your demise will be excruciatingly long if you try to enforce it with your arrows or your daggers," the blue-eyed immortal promised. "Neptune has many flaws, but he loves his family. Diana's blessings would not save you for a single minute from his wrath."
  
  Any reasonable warrior would have acknowledged the not-so-subtle hint and stopped antagonising Venus. But Nightshade had either a death wish or fanatically believed Artemis would protect her, because she persisted.
  
  "Jackson has challenged the Hunt and sacked uncountable depots! He deserves to be punished!"
  
  An invisible force seized her by the throat and threw her to her knees as the sky began to turn purple and gold. The divine shell of the Goddess also began to get taller.
  
  Ethan did what every reasonable Demigod would do in such circumstances. He helped Castellan taking care of the badly-hurt son of Poseidon, and began to move away.
  
  "DO NOT SPEAK OF ME OF 'DESERVES', HUNTRESS! DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER OF HOW MANY DEMIGODS AND DEMIGODDESSES HAVE BEEN KILLED BY YOUR ARROWS BECAUSE THEY HAD THE TEMERITY TO DISPLEASE YOU?
  
  Zoë Nightshade tried to answer, but with Love doing a very convincing imitation of Darth Vader, it was impossible.
  
  The Huntresses would have maybe intervened...except in a second, the Amazons' eyes had begun to turn purple. By the Pits of Tartarus, how had Venus-
  
  There was a flash of green and gold. The purple sky disappeared.
  
  And one second later, the lone figure of a teenage girl wearing an impressive number of dead animals for clothes was there, a bow taller than she was in her hands.
  
  "Venus. Release my lieutenant."
  
  "Not before she learns her lesson," the Goddess of Love denied Diana - or Artemis. "Her disrespect won't be tolerated anymore."
  
  "It isn't your prerogative to decide the fate of my Huntresses."
  
  "But it is theirs to pierce of arrows my sons?" The son of Nemesis couldn't say he was a divine expert, but it was clear this was the confrontation of two forces which weren't and wouldn't tolerate each other. After several more seconds of silence, the man-hater Huntress was released. "Your Huntresses are strongly encouraged to move out of Detroit."
  
  "They will," the Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon replied coldly, "for they are going to escort the Demigods to New Byzantium. My Lord Father is concerned Jackson will try to escape his part of the deal before the Quest officially begins. The Hunt's presence will make sure he does nothing...regrettable."
  
  Given that said Demigod couldn't be older than fourteen, Ethan was really curious how he had been able to generate so much interest in so few years of life...
  
  6 May 2006, New Byzantium, New York coastline, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Perseus' felt oddly refreshed and healthy when he opened his eyes. Of course, one second later, a bottle labelled 'Nectar' entered his field of vision and the mystery was resolved. So the food and the drink of the Gods were that good, uh. Being on the run since he was seven, he'd never been able to take any...the locations which served it were far too heavily defended to pull the kind of stunts he routinely tried against the Huntresses.
  
  Slowly, just in case, something hadn't healed well, the Demigod rose...and looked directly at a honey blonde-haired girl who looked to be about his own age.
  
  "You drool in your sleep." Oh, he was already enjoying this one. Grey-eyed, athletic, an attitude of 'I'm better than you'...a child of Athena or Nike, that one.
  
  "And you're blonde," the son of Poseidon said with a vicious smile. "We have all challenges to overtake on the path to glory."
  
  "You, you-"
  
  The former Tyrant did what he did best; he feigned to ignore her, a task made easy by the fact his new treacherous lieutenant had entered what had to be the healing centre of wherever-they-had-transported-him. Seriously, with his black hair, black eyes, his frowning expression, the sinister sword and the black armour, the guy deserved the job! He was only lacking the black eye-patch and he would be perfection incarnate!
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant! I presume we have arrived at Camp Byzantium?"
  
  "My name is Ethan Nakamura, not treacherous lieutenant," the other boy corrected. "And now that I think about it, wasn't the Minotaur your treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "Nah, Asterius is my Muscular Lieutenant," the green-eyed Demigod revealed with a smirk, pleased the older Demigod had some spirit in him.
  
  "Is? I bet with the others that the Goddess had killed him..."
  
  "Oh, she did," Perseus confirmed. "But it's not the first time in our long and fruitful collaboration this has happened...I'm afraid the poor guy spends more time escaping certain jailors of Below that he stays on the surface..." a nasty idea came to the forefront of his mind, though. If Venus did nothing without a reason, sending Asterius back to Tartarus was her way to ensure he would have an ally once he reached the Underworld. He could work with that.
  
  "The Minotaur!" oh, the blonde had finally caught up. "He's devouring young women!"
  
  "These were odious rumours propagated millennia ago, Blondie," the black-haired son of Poseidon knew he was going to love pushing all her berserk points. "King Minos wanted to have more lovers than the Lord of Olympus himself, and what better way than to request 'blood tributes' for your half-bull of a son?"
  
  "That's completely stupid!" yeah, definitely a child of Athena, that girl. "And my name is Annabeth, not Blondie!"
  
  "Whatever you say, Alexandra," Perseus assured her magnanimously, presenting an expression of nobility as her grey eyes illuminated with the desire to murder him on the spot. "But frankly, I think it makes perfect sense. At least if someone sacrifices his daughter to a monster, he can mourn his lost child, knowing the cherished person is dead...not so much if you know she is used as a sex slave and repeatedly raped by a Demigod."
  
  The austere face of his treacherous lieutenant frowned deeper, if it was humanly possible. He was about to speak but the blonde was faster.
  
  "Of course! And next you are going to tell me the Minotaur isn't the son of Pasiphaë and a white bull?"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous," Perseus chuckled. "He is." Now for the...what was the French word? Ah yes, time for the coup-de-grace. "That said I have it under good authority the bull may have been a God under disguise. A God who had already sired children the same way. I think King Minos was the result of such a union."
  
  "This is a lie!"
  
  "Actually, it makes a lot of sense," Ethan Nakamura agreed surprisingly quickly. "I was always wondering why Poseidon, a God of the Sea, would offer something prestigious to a Demigod who wasn't sired by him..."
  
  "An excellent point, my treacherous lieutenant," he took the opportunity to disappear behind a wooden bulkhead to change, because alas, both clothes and armour he had worn were completely shredded by the divine beat-down he had received. Positive side, the T-Shirt and everything else provided as replacements seemed to be of high quality. It was going to be a monumental chore finding new armour of equal protection value, though.
  
  When he was half-way presentable, the daughter of Athena had disappeared.
  
  "You enjoyed riling her up, didn't you?"
  
  "What could possibly give you that idea?" the son of Poseidon asked innocently. "You are a son of Nemesis."
  
  "Yes. Afraid?"
  
  "No, no, just thinking how appropriate it is for you to be my treacherous lieutenant." The twelve-years-old whistled as they exited the healing bungalow-house. The view of the coast and the landscape was...sublime. "You aren't beginning to sprout ideology how the Gods are infallible and we deserve to lick their shoes, don't you?"
  
  A silver arrow immediately slammed a metre before him.
  
  "I forgot to mention it, but the Huntresses have accompanied us here..."
  
  "Formidable. Is Nightshade still remembering me fondly?"
  
  A second arrow joined the first, and this one was closer to his feet.
  
  "She wanted to kill you, you know..."
  
  "Sorry, oh Prime Huntress," Perseus shouted. "If it helps, know it was completely personal!"
  
  This time he had to evade, because the shot had definitely been for his throat. Of course seconds later, the Huntress was washed out by a miniature river summoned out of nowhere. The Sea watched, and did not tolerate transgressions from godly accords.
  
  This matter dealt with, Perseus Jackson contemplated New Byzantium, also called by the Roman Demigods new Constantinople.
  
  For all his cynicism, he had to admit this was something to be seen before dying. The magical and non-magical defences were such that the space available formed a rather long crescent against the Atlantic coast, a rather sizeable amount of land which was divided in two by a rather large river. And on each bank, there was a large city shining under the sun. The different shades of marble and colourful mix of Antiquity and modern villas glittered under the sun, and it didn't take a guide to know the southern part - which wasn't the side they were on, naturally - was the Roman part, the 'New Constantinople' part of the Demigods' haven. The familiar Roman structures of a Coliseum, a Senate, a Hippodrome, a large aqueduct, public baths, and what had to be large Legion barracks made the guess way too easy.
  
  Not that the Greek 'quarter' lacked splendour, oh no. Perseus could see six main avenues with the biggest marble statues you could imagine, enormous villas with suspended gardens, private vegetable gardens coexisting next to amphitheatres, and apparently the notion of public baths was contagious, because the Greek Demigods had converted to them, in addition to a profusion of cisterns and fountains. On the periphery though, the Greek side had immense strawberry fields, not a trashed plain which looked like several Gods had hammered the terrain until the grass no longer grew upon it.
  
  Naturally, these two sides were linked by a massive golden bridge which was...a bit too much...and he was the one who had built golden statues of his favourite ancestor across Helike a lifetime ago. That had to be the Golden Hellespont, built for the glory of Zeus and Hera.
  
  The bridge was naturally not there just to be pretty. It was the only way to access the island in the middle of the river, at least the son of Poseidon supposed it was an island, because the vertical constructions used so much of the available ground, it was more like a mountain of temples was rising from the earth to challenge the skies.
  
  You had two guesses to tell whose couple of temples were at the top of this vainglorious sum of religious monuments, and the first didn't count.
  
  "Okay, that's rather impressive," the ex-Tyrant admitted. "I suppose the rent is hellishly expensive the closest you approach from the river?"
  
  "Yes," the son of Nemesis replied curtly, "Though many families aren't renting, they own outright the palaces you see."
  
  "Legacies of the Gods?" This was the logical conclusion.
  
  "Plenty," his treacherous lieutenant confirmed. "Of course, since many Gods often visit and certain families are not big on marriage vows...err..."
  
  "Yes, the Legacies create plenty more Demigods." To be honest, that certainly explained why his estimates about Byzantium's size were off by a factor of two or three. It was not surprising that in the only city where they could walk and be themselves without covering everything in Mist, Gods and Goddesses would do what they did best: awe the mortals, encourage their worship...and copulate with them.
  
  "You aren't asking me about the Legions?"
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "The whole world knows you have three Legions in active service, one defending the camp and two campaigning. I know for sure Legio Gemina, the Thirteenth, is in California, I saw their camp on my way to rob the Amazons of their ill-gotten gains."
  
  "Are you sure you're not a son of Hermes?" A Huntress exclaimed behind him.
  
  The green-eyed Demigod raised a questioning eyebrow.
  
  "She's not wrong, really," the grim-faced child of Nemesis confessed, "stealing everything which isn't nailed down and provoking a maximum of disorder on their way out is rather what the boys and girls of Bungalow Eleven are about."
  
  "Bungalow Eleven..." It was an elegant elevated temple-quarter with quantity of bird decorations and symbols of coins, caduceus symbols, and even golden apples. "It looks it has been recently been renovated."
  
  "Yeah, Luke's donation to the cause," his treacherous lieutenant was dying of jealousy, a blind man could see it. "He invested part of it in a massive rebuilding effort, and got the leadership of the Bungalow for it."
  
  "That sounds like a big deal," better to have some information than none.
  
  "It is," the other Demigod revealed. "The leaders of each Senior God Quester's cabin are guaranteed a seat in the Councillor's Meeting, our more liberal arrangement than the Senate. The thirty-six cabins get a vote, plus one for the non-aligned barracks," which were certainly the massive bland structure on the right of all these temple-quarters. "So yeah, Luke's Quest gave him lot of influence. The previous Councillor wasn't too happy about it. He swore he would do better than him and left for a Gold-class Quest."
  
  "And how is it going for him?"
  
  "We haven't heard from him in a while..." Ethan Nakamura frowned again. "But it isn't out of the norm. Lamia's curse is a pain on our communications. There's always a Quest or two which are about locating her, but most return in failure, and in general it puts you in the Lady of Magic's black list."
  
  A noise of hooves was heard, and the reason his treacherous lieutenant had been displeased was revealed to have nothing to do with a missing Demigod and more with a centaur trotting to meet them.
  
  "Chiron, our Trainer of Heroes, Senior Councillor and Senior Healer," the son of Nemesis introduced them. "Is it too much to hope you aren't going to antagonise him?"
  
  "My dear partner-in-crime," the child of the Sea God declared, "I am always the very symbol of politeness and friendship to people I respect. You have nothing to fear, I'm sure Charles and I will get along splendidly."
  
  "Chiron, his name is...you know what, I don't care." Ah, so his treacherous lieutenant was learning, very good.
  
  Regrettably, the brown-haired centaur was already wary as he stopped a good metre away from him.
  
  "If this is about the 'Pony War' of last year, I was only tangentially involved," Perseus said in a virtuous tone.
  
  "You shouldn't be here. There are prisons for monsters like you, and they are nowhere near New Byzantium." The Trainer of Heroes wasn't glaring too much, but since it was an immortal centaur, he certainly had good control over his emotions.
  
  "Prison? Come on...your Hermes Questers are making their fortune in stealing things right and left and selling it right after for fun and profit."
  
  The argument was lost long before it reached the old horse's ears to be sure.
  
  "This Great Quest will be your last chance-"
  
  "With due respect, Charles, what do you know of chance?" The black-haired boy kept a tone of courtesy, in spite of being furious enough to drown this four-legged creature in the nearest river. "Where was my luck when the Master Bolt was used to murder my mother when I was seven? Where was the chance of Asterius where he was thrown into a Labyrinth and punished for the sins of others? There is no chance, luck, or coincidence. There is the will of the Gods, and the choices of Men; nothing less, nothing more."
  
  "I see." Not that it was unexpected, but Perseus knew this upstart pony would never turn against Zeus. He had spent too long under Zeus' thumb, and was too fond of enforcing the status quo, training waves after waves of heroes, and enduring the crippling rates of casualties Demigods and Demigoddesses took Quest after Quest. "With an attitude like that, Perseus, do not expect to find a lot of support at New Byzantium."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, Christopher," it was time to be in 'correcting mode', something he always loved, especially when it was guaranteed the truth would hurt more than the lies. "I was never supposed to get any support beyond the little things no one is supposed to be denied. This Great Quest is not supposed to succeed. The Lord of Olympus wants a war; if he really wanted his symbol of power back the Demigod way, hundreds of arrow-fodder fools would have already been sent a couple of days after the Winter Solstice."
  
  "You know a lot of secrets, for a Demigod not of New Byzantium."
  
  Perseus Jackson snorted.
  
  "Don't flatter me. When a guy screams so loud most people on the Western Coast hear him, the secrets you're speaking about are known to the entire world shrouded by the Mist." He sighed theatrically. "I suppose you aren't going to offer me a legendary weapon, like Excalibur or something, to show me it is possible to return to the Light?"
  
  "You have stolen many weapons during your crime heists. You don't need one of the Quester's blades. Now I think it is best you go to Bungalow Eleven...and stay here until dinner."
  
  "Bungalow Three is the Bungalow of Poseidon," the hill where the temple-barracks were was disposed on three layers of elevation, with the big leagues at the top, and you couldn't exactly miss the one for the Lord of Oceans and Earthquakes.
  
  "It is, but you haven't been claimed. And the rules are the rules." The centaur said without a trace of apology in his voice.
  
  Ah, the old horse wanted to play it that way, did he?
  
  Silently, Perseus contemplated his rings, before deciding to sacrifice the one preventing the Gods from locating him as long as they hadn't their servants in direct sight. It wouldn't be of a lot of use in the coming days, and it was worth a lot...close to forty thousand Drachmas, according to the Telekhine merchant he had paid to estimate it.
  
  "Oh, father," the green-eyed boy began while throwing the ring in the closest fountain, which had four stone statues of dolphins and thus could be safely be considered to be consecrated to the Sea, "I know you are listening to me. Yes, this is sheer bribery, but I don't want to sleep in a manor of thieves for my stay at new Byzantium, no matter how short this rambunctious period will prove itself to be. I offer this ring in offering, estimation forty thousand Drachmas, now please claim me so I can irritate the old pony more than I already did."
  
  "I am right here," Chiron told him angrily.
  
  "I know, Carver," Perseus turned back after the grin disappeared into a flash of blue-green power, and suddenly he was bathed in a halo of the same colour, while an enormous ball of light with a trident symbol flashed in existence above his head. "I believe this is the moment you kneel."
  
  "The claim is recognised," the centaur seemed to hate it, sure enough. Until now, he had certainly dreamed this was a mistake, that Perseus was a usurper or the son of a lesser Sea deity. But with this move, there was nothing else to do but voice it...and kneel. "Poseidon...Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Lord of Horses, Hail Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."
  
  If a son or a daughter of Hades had arrived at this moment, the 'Trainer of Heroes' and the hundred-plus Huntresses forced to kneel would have likely gone into frothing berserk rage. Fortunately for them, it didn't happen.
  
  "Good," the young Demigod smiled. "I believe we were speaking about my Barrack?"
  
  Whatever the future and the Fates had in store for them, Luke Castellan believed this day would become forever remembered by the inhabitants of New Byzantium.
  
  It had been a long time since there hadn't been a son of Poseidon at camp, but the son of Hermes felt reasonably certain that even if there had been dozens of them, all of them would have been made irrelevant by their new addition's arrival.
  
  His name was Perseus Jackson, and for all the blonde-haired Demigod believed the boy was going to get himself killed long before he was sixteen - therefore getting no chance to fulfil the conditions of the Great Prophecy - there was a rising belief this crazy half-blood was going to leave a deep mark in Byzantium's and the world's history.
  
  Few people had the courage - or the insanity - to directly steal from the Gods, Quest or no Quest. Even fewer had the audacity to showcase their thievery achievements right in the middle of a camp where the Olympians could directly materialise and kill the offender.
  
  Yet that was exactly what the son of Poseidon was doing, leading a gigantic convoy of stolen goods beginning with marble statues, golden amulets, coffers filled with Drachmas, and priceless gemstones to rifles, electronic devices, and several things which had to be Hephaestus-made instruments of war.
  
  Doing it when your sole protection was Poseidon's favour and your own sense of entitlement was just...just mad.
  
  And yet Perseus Jackson was doing it, in the middle of afternoon, with a quantity of stone gargoyles for servants which proved beyond doubt that the Huntresses' boast they had eradicated the 'beasts' had utterly been in error.
  
  "He can't do that!" Annabeth hissed. The son of Hermes did his best to not chuckle. If there was something 'classical' about Perseus Jackson, his ability to infuriate the daughter of Athena he considered like a little sister was it. The two appeared to have reached maximal levels of antagonism in mere minutes of first meeting each other.
  
  Luke had a feeling their story was going to end with them either as arch-nemesis or married to each other.
  
  "He can," the thief who had stolen the golden apple from the garden of the Hesperides disagreed. "Fact is, he is doing it right now. And really, it's not that much different than what we children of Hermes are doing: we use the embassy status of our Barrack to avoid divine retribution."
  
  This convoy was on a completely different level of magnitude, though. If one accumulated the spoils of the entire barrack, counting his and the senior Questers, they would maybe reach two-thirds of what was towed in the three dozen chariots and modified trucks.
  
  Luke had thought the Amazons' and Huntresses' claims about Jackson's claims were a bit exaggerated. Seeing the evidence with his own eyes, the experienced Quester was beginning to think they had if anything underestimated the 'problem'.
  
  "Stop glaring at him...or try to order silently the Huntresses to intervene," he advised to the younger Demigoddess, trying to ignore how the sheer number of the Goddess of the Hunt's servants made him uncomfortable. Seriously, he had known Artemis recruited heavily among the young girls before mentally brainwashing them and letting them grow slowly until they reached about sixteen in age...but it was still frightening to realise that at a word, over three thousand female archers were unleashed against a target.
  
  That Jackson had voluntarily gone to war against them for three years and thrived proved the son of Poseidon meant business...
  
  "Zoë tried to convince me to join the Hunt again," Annabeth admitted, biting her low lip.
  
  "Did she mention how the Goddess of Love nearly killed her for her arrogance when we got away from Detroit?"
  
  "No, but I'm sure this is the fault of this son of Poseidon!" her voice decreased to a whisper. "Perhaps the only immortal besides his father who is really on this jackass' side..."
  
  As if someone had heard her, a large circle of light burst into existence, and a cascade of violet and bronze flew for a second before Dionysus, Byzantium's Director - a post he made no secret of holding against his will - stepped through.
  
  Except he didn't look like the Questers' Director.
  
  No, no, it wasn't exact. He didn't look like the 'Mr D' persona they were used to. He was the picture of what a God, capital D, should look like. His biceps and his body were those of an Adonis, with his violet air flowing majestically, and grapes were used as hair ornaments. His Greek clothes were half-way removed, as if to show even more of his chest, a part of his body which would have not raised an eyebrow if it was Heracles'. A leopard cape was entangled on his shoulders, and golden torques were on his forearms.
  
  Disappeared was the image of the cantankerous, grumpy and sullen Director. The God of Wine was here in the might of his power and looks.
  
  Half of the Questers gaped and were utterly stunned. Luke supposed he was doing the same. And what followed didn't help soften the blow.
  
  "Peter Johnson! My great friend!"
  
  "Douglas! My second favourite God!"
  
  And the Immortal and the Demigod embraced each other like they were two old friends.
  
  "Olympus' foundations," Annabeth moaned, "now they are two of him..."
  
  The daughter of Athena was so busy trying to look away, like most people, that she missed Jackson placing a small flask in the God's hair.
  
  Of course, the next moments were a bit distracting...as Dionysus intended.
  
  "After my children, you are definitely my favourite Demigod!" the God of Wine exclaimed, which had the merit of being probably true, if Jackson had brought contraband enchanted alcohol with the rest of his loot. "A true Champion of Madness, your exploits have been watched several billion times on Madness Tube! I encourage you to continue-"
  
  There was a massive rumble and Luke like every resident of the settlement realised that there were big, nasty dark thunder clouds arriving from the South...which was to say, from Olympus.
  
  "I mean to say, these were very bad, bad things, you did," the God of Folly and Insanity said in an accusatory expression which convinced absolutely no one. "Don't try it again."
  
  And the Olympian disappeared, quickly followed by the Demigods.
  
  "Luke," and for the first time Annabeth looked really, really afraid. "What the hell Perseus Jackson is doing? You told me you saw the Love Goddess ready to go war, now it is the turn of Mr D...what is happening?"
  
  "Madness," the son of Hermes spoke quietly, knowing the truth was neither comforting nor something one could solve with a sword. "Madness is on our doorstep."
  
  "We won't let him," a voice which had no business sounding so arrogant affirmed.
  
  In his humble opinion, Zoë Nightshade had failed to neutralise the monumental threat before it reached its cruise speed, and now they were all going to pay the price of it...
  
  It was against the rules for a Demigod to not eat his meal at his Bungalow Table.
  
  Ethan was wondering if Perseus Jackson had ever done something wondering according to the rules.
  
  But by the standards of what he had done this week, sitting with Nemesis children, especially since Dionysus didn't care, wasn't that risky or mad.
  
  By Jackson's standards. Gods, what had his life become in a week?
  
  "You're not going to last long, Jackson," his half-brother Damian White said with the dangerous tone all sons and daughter of the Goddess of Vengeance used to intimidate their enemies. Obviously today, it missed completely its mark. "You already greatly overreached three days ago, it's a matter of time-"
  
  "Overreached?" the infuriating Demigod snarked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
  
  "You were lucky the Amazons and the Huntresses did arrive at the exact same time, one or the other would have killed you if not." The words were spoken sufficiently loud to generate plenty of approval at Artemis' table and several others.
  
  "Dudley," Jackson and Dionysus had the common point to always call the persons they spoke with by the good initials but totally different names, "it's cute you think something as random and imprecise as luck has something to do with my survival."
  
  The dinner grounds suddenly became very silent.
  
  "You're bluffing." Damian had paled. "Nobody could... I mean nobody is that good at planning..."
  
  "This is the noble law first put into practise by His Most Dreadful Majesty Irritant," the madman grinned as he ate his part of his pizza. "When someone courts inevitable doom, the best way to disarm it is to split between different enemies. Then you are merely doomed, and the chaos you created is enough to deal with them."
  
  Perseus poured himself a generous quantity of pineapple juice, disregarding totally the bottle of wine. It was weird, because with all his friendship with the new aspect of their Director, the son of Nemesis had imagined the crazy boy would have no problem emptying cup after cup of wine...but he had been wrong. The scion of the Seas had not drunk a single drop of alcohol since he had come at camp.
  
  "So you say." The sarcasm was evident, but Perseus Jackson ignored it and treated it like a proof of his undeniable superiority.
  
  "So I say," the green-eyed half-blood sipped his drink before giving them an even wider smile. "The difficulty is of course to keep an excellent supply of enemies available. Fortunately, there are many Huntresses, and Miss Nightshade's hatred is extremely reliable in that regard. Everything I need them for a dramatic escape, the servants of the Hunt can relied upon bungling something while she attempts to kill me."
  
  Two silver-clad girls had to calm their leader before she grabbed her bow and broke most of the rules governing one's conduct at the camp.
  
  "You're utterly crazy, Jackson." Yes, welcome to the club of the people who had realised that. "You realise Nightshade is going to murder you the moment you leave camp?"
  
  "It's nice of you to worry about my security," Perseus placed his hand above a region where most sane humans kept their heart, "but I assure you the servants of the Hunt won't be my end. I know the exact moment of my death, and it is not today I perish."
  
  "And when will you die, oh Great Oracle?" Ethan asked with great scepticism.
  
  "Why, never, my treacherous lieutenant," white teeth were bared in something as dangerous as it was insane. "Because soon, I will be invincible! BWAHAHAHA!"
  
  The thunder of Zeus rumbled over their heads for the sixth time today. It had to be a God-level record, no one had ever learned of the Lord of Olympus showing such focus on New Byzantium in years...
  
  The 'Councillor's Meeting' was convened several hours after dinner, with quantities of spies, pardon of councillor Demigods and Demigoddesses present.
  
  The decoration was definitely leopard-style, which was a deliberate thing since they were meeting in the unofficial barrack of Dionysus. It was not too bad, really. As long as you liked leopards, that is. Perseus did, but not every Demigod did. In fact, the majority of the participants looked like they hated it, which sucked...for them.
  
  There were three members of the camp leadership at the places of honour at the end of the rectangular table. The first two were Dionysus and Chiron, of course. The third was more unexpected: Marcus Ulpius Traianus, better name by the diminutive name of Trajan, ex-Roman Emperor, son of Mars, and now officially an immortal, ordered by the God to administer Triumvirate Holdings, a strategic board which evaluated the risks of Legion deployments and Quests' assignments.
  
  What he had to say about the 'Great Quest' was definitely the old gloom and doom, evidently.
  
  "There are only five doors for direct entrance to the Underworld, and the closest is to California, close to Hollywood as we speak. I strongly discourage using it. Due to the proximity of the Thirteenth Legion, the Rich One has garrisoned it heavily with over one hundred thousand skeleton warriors. Nothing living can escape their vigilance."
  
  The lesser God watched him straight in the eyes, and his lips didn't bother hide the disgust he felt for him. Apparently, this poor Trajan was a die-hard supporter of Zeus.
  
  "According to the reports we have been collect, Triumvirate Holdings judged likely the other entrances have been similarly reinforced. If you want to access the deeper layers of the Underworld, you will have to use the unstable entrances."
  
  "Awesome," someone muttered, "the closest one is near Cape Horn, I believe."
  
  Trajan shrugged as if it wasn't his problem. And to be fair, it wasn't.
  
  "This will be the choice of the Questers volunteering for this Quest. Bear in mind however, the expedition must return with the stolen symbols of power before the ultimatum expires, which is on the Summer Solstice."
  
  It was good to have the full confirmation Zeus wanted this war and this mission was just a thin sheet to proclaim himself 'just' and 'benevolent' in front of his progeny.
  
  "Dear Strategos," it was his time to speak and reveal the monumental hypocrisy of this entire system, "I believe it is just the first step of the Lord of Olympus trying to make this Quest a disaster beyond any redemption. So come on, do your best, I'm all ears."
  
  "You shouldn't insult the generosity of-"
  
  "You and I both know his generosity arrives only by accident," it was surprisingly easy to ignore the thunder after a while. "Let's see...you were going to announce the budget for this costly expedition would be of a grand total of zero Drachmas...or is it zero Denarii? The time limit is already extremely hard, but I suppose there's a limited time for recruiting, I guess? We will have no prophecies or access to any Oracles, not that those of Olympus function well since 1945...and I suppose land and naval support will be totally inexistent. How I am doing so far?"
  
  "You are rather accurate, surprisingly," the Roman commander told him. "You have forty-eight hours to build your Quester team. Since it is a Great Quest, it can't be more than twelve strong, and can't have a Demigod of more than one divine parent included."
  
  It was completely easy to smirk at the assembly and at Chiron, who for all his mental fortitude seemed a bit...ill-at-ease that his supreme boss was so childish and petulant.
  
  "Is that all?"
  
  "You won't be the leader, Luke Castellan will be. And Lady Zoë Nightshade will accompany you, to ensure your loyalty doesn't waver."
  
  This time Perseus really looked at the ex-Emperor with the look he reserved to the imbeciles.
  
  "You realise she isn't going to survive this Quest, right?"
  
  "I hope this wasn't the first sign of disloyalty shown against Olympus-"
  
  "Oh, please, Strategos," Perseus smiled. "You know exactly how deep my loyalty towards Olympus is. And I withdraw my objections. Clearly a girl who has been under an immortality blessing for several thousands of years is the best candidate to lead a Quest into the Underworld. I'm sure it is absolutely not going to anger the Lord of the Afterlife."
  
  The son of Poseidon turned towards Castellan.
  
  "Sorry, friend, it looks like we will be collateral damage at Ground Zero when everything will go to hell."
  
  Impressively, Castellan maintained a dignified face and his limbs didn't flinch. Maybe there was hope for him.
  
  Trajan, to his credit, seemed to realise the sheer stupidity of sending a lieutenant of a Goddess where she was more or less sure to be slaughtered for what she was. But the orders of his superiors bound him, and so the freshly-shaven twenty-five-looking immortal didn't come back on the orders said.
  
  "Anything outstanding to do?"
  
  And sure enough, Zeus couldn't miss an opportunity to be a fool.
  
  "Since the Lord of the Underworld has refused to acknowledge the Council's demands, you must also return with the thief herself."
  
  "Understood," he said immediately before the little god could add conditions like 'alive', 'intact', or 'prisoner'. Seriously, it showed these peoples never tried to deal with the Demons or Devils on a daily basis. They would not last one hour. "Now except for Lord Dionysus, of course...everyone who doesn't want to be involved in this Great Quest, where we will invade the Underworld, fight enemies which will make Asterius the Minotaur look small, and challenge a God in his very domain...you can leave."
  
  In twenty seconds, save Nightshade and Castellan, the only Demigod who remained was the representative of the Ares Bungalow, a tattooed boy of twenty-years-old who was smiling back.
  
  "We're going to organise a tournament first thing next morning to decide who will come with you, Jackson!"
  
  "Good, very good," the ex-Tyrant congratulated him before turning towards the two other Demigods, who seemed extremely displeased to be here. "To improve morale and increase the chances of finding eight new individuals for our joyous Quest, I suggest renaming our group."
  
  "You really think there is a possibility of fulfilling this mission, Jackson?" Castellan's face had become grimness incarnate.
  
  "Naturally," the son of Poseidon reassured him. "You see, you're worrying too much about the rules and the odds. They're made to be trampled under our feet. But before that, the change of name is necessary. I feel this Quest is so unfair, so tyrannical, so prepared for us to die..."
  
  The thunder roared again over his head.
  
  "That I have no choice but to give us a vibrant name which will stay for us for eternity."
  
  A pause, because speaking a monologue was an art by itself.
  
  "The Suicide Squad."
  
  Author's note:
  
  I had plenty of fun writing this one - it helps to have a writing hobby when the side-effects of a second vaccine force you to stay back in a chair for most of the day because you're tired quickly.
  
  The title of the next chapter, evidently, will be The Suicide Squad, if you hadn't guessed.
  
  I have decided to post this timeline will be posted, for as long as it continues to amuse me. The rhythm of update will be as follows: when chapter N+1 is updated on pa treon, chapter N will be on the different sites where I usually post my literary efforts.
  
  Now let's assemble the insanely glorious team which will follow Perseus Jackson to hell and back...
  
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  The Suicide Squad
  Chapter 3
  
  The Suicide Squad
  
  We thought the name was a good joke at first. Who wouldn't? Luke made a very convincing Rick Flag, and Nightshade of course was a combination of Deadshot and Katana armed with a bow and arrows. Jackson? He was the Joker, nothing else made sense. I know what you're going to say, there was no Amanda Waller and the explosive collars. You're deadly wrong: the explosives were just out of sight. The big boss of the Suicide Squad was the Master of Olympus.
  
  It was supposed to stay a joke. Breaking through the armies of Hades and invading the Underworld was impossible without a massive army. The only sure way to go to Hell was to die...and there isn't any return from that.
  
  Besides, one look at them was enough to know these boys and girls were likely going to kill each other before they met a single enemy. There wasn't a plan, and in forty-eight hours, they weren't likely to find one. There wasn't any divine help coming, and Chiron certainly wasn't going to give advice to the infuriating son of Poseidon.
  
  This Great Quest was going to fail. And as they disappeared into the darkness, we forgot them and continued the war preparations.
  
  This was, in hindsight, a monumental mistake.
  
  Extract from the Prologue of Chronicles of the Suicide Squad, by Malcolm Pace, son of Athena.
  
  7 May 2006, New Byzantium, New York coastline, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The Poseidon Barrack was a living arrangement which had only advantages, as far as Perseus was concerned.
  
  It was silent. It had no current Demigod save him, meaning any spies and treacherous lieutenants would need to be invited to have a chance to succeed in their betrayals and plots.
  
  It had an enormous amount of storage places for his legitimates and less-than-legitimate possessions.
  
  It was protected from the wrath of a childish Lord of Thunder.
  
  It had a superb view on the entire bay of New Byzantium.
  
  It had private baths, showers, and fountains, so much ablutions and any use of water didn't require stepping outside.
  
  And it had a consecrated pool for private communications with Atlantis, and given its nature and the numerous runic carvings on the walls of the room, it was a given neither Zeus nor any God who wasn't a water deity would be able to listen to the doors.
  
  They would - maybe - detect the communication existing in the first place and assume he was speaking with his father.
  
  Let them think about the wrong scenario; he wasn't interested in chatting with his genitor for now.
  
  Several magical rings of minor value - for him - were thrown into the pool as offerings. That was something he had been able to discover last evening: the Demigods didn't seem to realise that while a Drachma-offering was very good for an average conversation with your friends, the Gods expected something better if you wanted their attention.
  
  The better the offering, the faster the God...or in this case the Goddess would answer.
  
  His present must have been considered good, for two seconds later, a wave washed his naked feet, and the three-dimensional appearance of the Goddess Amphitrite, wife of Poseidon, Protector of Dolphins, appeared before him.
  
  "Perseus Jackson, this is unexpected," Perseus could see that. The Gods and Goddesses generally made an effort to keep a human-like appearance before their human followers, but today Amphitrite wasn't. While her upper body was those of a Queen bearing a crown of bronze and emeralds, a golden trident in one of her hands, her lower body was definitely sea snake or something similar. "Must I summon my husband?"
  
  "Not at all, Magnificent Queen of the Seas," the Demigod replied cheekily, "I wanted to assure you first of my eternal friendship."
  
  Amusement appeared on the Goddess' lips.
  
  "Didn't you promise the same thing to Ares a week ago before going upon ransacking the Amazon's properties?"
  
  "His domain is War. Should my actions not be considered the truest form of friendship for him?"
  
  "I see you are as gifted with your tongue as the rumours suggested." The Queen of the Seas complimented him before her visage turned neutral once more. "Why did you contact me?"
  
  "Because you are, if my contacts are correct, the Keeper of the Keys and the Treasury Minister of Atlantis."
  
  "Your contacts are correct." Green eyes very similar to his stared at him. "Your financial needs for the next year, should you survive it, have been calculated and already sent to the vault under your Barrack."
  
  "And I am deeply grateful for it," he would have to check after breakfast, "but I did not open this communication for my finance problems. Besides offering you eternal friendship, it so happens I have a little problem to recruit enthusiastic minions for a certain Great Quest."
  
  In fact, besides the two Demigods and the Huntress who had 'volunteered', the only seat guaranteed to be filled was the one of the Ares cabin - their 'selection tournament' must have begun one hour ago.
  
  "Are you surprised? This Great Quest has been rigged to explode in a monumental failure. In the first days after the theft, maybe a small group of Demigods would have had a chance to break through the Underworld. Now it is too late, even the most unstable fissures underwater are heavily trapped. I am aware of the circumstances which led you to accepting it, but you have to realise it is doomed to failure."
  
  "Doomed to failure is an exaggeration," the insane Demigod grinned. "As it happens, I think I have a pretty solid plan to invade the Underworld."
  
  The scales materialised everywhere on the 'human' part of the body, and his father's wife appeared to be more and more snake-like.
  
  "Interesting," the Trident pulsed with green power, and it engulfed the Barrack. "You appear to be entirely truthful...what do you want?"
  
  "I would humbly request," despite the amicable tone, Perseus didn't doubt Amphitrite would be able to beat him in one tail strike if he insulted her by mistake, "to obtain a written form promising a sizeable sum of Drachmas for every Demigod who will manage to return the symbol of power of your husband. This would give me sizeable leverage to recruit several Demigods and Demigoddesses of New Byzantium."
  
  "We always intended to reward the heroes who would return the Trident of my husband, Perseus," and to her credit, the black-haired Goddess seemed sincere.
  
  "I know this, your Majesty, and you know it too. But given how this Quest was presented last evening, I doubt the Camp Councillors of New Byzantium shared this confidence around. The Lord of Olympus," no way he was going to call him by his name and give him the possibility to spy on him, "has made it clear the concept of this Great Quest is abhorrent to him. Obviously, he has not said openly and vocally he will punish those who will return to him the Master Bolt...but he hasn't exactly said he will reward them, either."
  
  "That God..." It was too bad he had not been able to learn High Atlantean, because the muttered words of Amphitrite didn't seem to be complimentary. "Very well, Perseus. You have a point. For every Demigod who participates into this Great Quest, Atlantis is ready to pay two million Drachmas each should the Trident be returned to the hands of my husband at the end of the day. As long the Quest is successful and the Demigods stayed loyal to Atlantis, I will personally deliver the funds to the Demigods' accounts or their next of kin, if they happen to perish in the service of duty."
  
  "Thank you, your Majesty."
  
  "Do not think I am doing you that great of a favour, Perseus," the scales began to fade anew. "You will be far from the seas and sources of water of this world, and as I'm sure you are aware, the Huntress of Artemis has received the order to execute you as quickly as possible. If any children of Athena are sent with you, their mission will likely be the same. And while gold can buy the loyalty of someone temporarily..."
  
  "Anyone can be outbid," the son of Poseidon nodded.
  
  "Yes," the Goddess approved before frowning. "Zeus is trying to intercept this communication. I have to close it on my end. The paperwork for Atlantis' financial rewards will be sent in a few hours...and make it clear we will offer no reward for a restitution of the Master Bolt!"
  
  He couldn't help but chuckle as the waters of the pool returned to their deceptive placidity a second later.
  
  "Well, I have what I want," the black-haired Demigod laughed. "Now it's time to assemble the Suicide Squad."
  
  The summon letter came while he was eating breakfast, delivered by a grimacing gargoyle. And of course it was addressed to 'my treacherous lieutenant Ethan Nakamura'. The son of Nemesis didn't know if she should be relieved Perseus Jackson had not 'adjusted' his name on purpose, or afraid the first letter of the son of the Earthshaker had turned his attention towards him permanently. Knowing what Damian had to say about the Great Quest, it was likely the latter.
  
  He was not given the tour of the famous Barrack which had stayed closed to all visitors since World War 2: Jackson was waiting for him in the antechamber. His naked feet were plunged into one of the numerous pools, with just a swimsuit preserving his modesty.
  
  Ethan didn't miss the fact that for all his 'madness', Jackson was as muscled as a child of Ares of the same age. The incident of Detroit wasn't a fluke, and you didn't get that kind of body by slacking off from dawn to dusk.
  
  "Ah my treacherous lieutenant!" And so it began. "I wanted to express my great disappointment you haven't already volunteered for this legendary Great Quest!"
  
  "The only think which is going to be legendary in this whole affair is going to be the demise of those stupid enough to participate, Jackson." The black-haired son of Nemesis retorted, hand on his sword to give himself some courage to face whatever madness Jackson had in store for him. "Unless I've misunderstood, we're supposed to invade Hell...and we won't be even paid for it!"
  
  "Right on the first, wrong on the second," the son of Poseidon raised a mocking finger. "I have been given assurances by Higher Powers that if the Trident is recovered and returned to its legitimate owner, we will be paid, my treacherous lieutenant. The paperwork is on its way, and two million Drachmas for sure will be delivered to each survivor...or their next of kin."
  
  Ethan frowned. Damn the son of the Lord of the Seas was good. But he rapidly blocked this incentive by a negative counter of his own.
  
  "It doesn't matter. I mean, it's nice and all, but it can be two, ten, or one hundred million, it is just words in the end, since accomplishing this Quest is impossible. All the known entrances of Hell are guarded by immense armies, and you're not good enough to beat five or ten Legions of skeleton veterans on your own, Jackson."
  
  "You're not completely wrong about that," the green-eyed crazy Demigod agreed readily. "But my plan does not rely upon smashing my head against the Hollywood Army of the Rich One."
  
  Ethan didn't laugh at the very, very bad pun.
  
  "You have a plan? You? I thought it was more 'infuriating everyone' and spread as much chaos as you can while you're stealing everything."
  
  "And you think that happens without planning, my treacherous lieutenant?" The devilish smirk was back. "Unlike several deities we shouldn't name, I always think about the repercussions of my actions before doing something. I certainly wouldn't have been caught swearing something like the Great Oath in 1945."
  
  It wasn't exactly reassuring, oh no.
  
  "But yes, I have a plan which will allow us, in your own words, to invade Hell. I will concede it is not perfection incarnate, but I estimate the chances of reaching the Rich One's domain at eighty percent."
  
  This was high, for such a dangerous Quest.
  
  "And for the journey which comes after?"
  
  "Do you think I have spies in my uncle's domain? I do not. We will have to rely upon skill and wits to accomplish the mission once there."
  
  "There is no 'we', Jackson," the son of Nemesis made it clear. "Besides even for the first part of your plan, you don't give any details-"
  
  "Of course not," the other Demigod scoffed. "I have no wish to see our enemies ambush us the second we leave New Byzantium. This city and everything near it are very welcoming, but let's not pretend anything stay a secret for more than a few seconds once two of its denizens are aware of it."
  
  Ethan grimaced but didn't find something good to reply. The son of Poseidon wasn't wrong at all. Well, no, that wasn't right, there was something he could say.
  
  "The Questers still like having some information about what they are supposed to face before jumping."
  
  "Funny," Perseus calmly declared after an eyewink, "I thought the very purpose of the Quests was to earn glory and money when facing unknown dangers."
  
  "This is not-"
  
  "Such cowardice is disgusting," the son of Poseidon hissed, and in a second, the madness returned to the surface, the mask of friendship and sanity discarded, "I have heard your half-brothers and half-sisters speak, you know. I heard them as they murmured how your mother isn't getting the respect she deserves, how you, her children, are constantly forgotten and despised, denied every Quest of importance, how you don't have a proper divine holy day to celebrate, how your Barrack is too small and so on. Yet at the moment everything is decided, you are stepping back, not jumping ahead."
  
  "If this Quest fails, we will be butchered, that is if we're not already dead!" Ethan shouted. "And if we succeed, we will be 'heroes' who will have preserved exactly what we hate! Do you think the Council of Olympus will change anything if tensions ease and peace returns?"
  
  "Of course not, my treacherous lieutenant," the green-eyed Demigod then lowered his voice. "But there is Peace, and there is peace. And as the first...intermediaries...to speak with a certain God of the Underworld, we will certainly have a great deal of influence over said 'peace'. Will it be truly back to the status quo...or merely the absence of overt hostilities?"
  
  "This is..." Ethan swallowed, not deigning utter the last word. Treason.
  
  "Yes, this is madness," the younger half-blood warrior finished the sentence for him. "But what is a villain without madness?"
  
  "I am not a villain. The Questers are all heroes."
  
  For the first time of this conversation, Perseus Jackson gave him a look of pity.
  
  "Dear, your allegiance goes to a guy who throws lightning bolt at anything which constitutes a threat when he has a fit of paranoia, which happens to him three times per week. You are sent on Quests, which, despite all the nice tales, don't care very much about morality or anything ethical as long as you accomplish them. You are supposed to be good little servants, not ask any deranging questions, and enjoy dangerous lives which make sure almost none of you survive to retire. I have a definition for this, and it's not 'heroes'."
  
  He shouldn't have let the bastard speak. That was Ethan's first thought. Jackson's so-called crimes were dangerous for everyone, but his most dangerous weapon was his voice, that much he was sure of.
  
  "Two million Drachmas for each volunteer?" the son of Nemesis asked rhetorically, giving a glare to the other Demigod so he avoided the gloating and the posturing. This was six million Aurei, or twenty-five million Roman Denarii. Thirty thousand times the yearly income of a Legion's centurion.
  
  "Two million Drachmas for each volunteer," Perseus Jackson repeated, "when we successfully complete the Great Quest with the Suicide Squad."
  
  Ethan groaned internally at the atrocious name.
  
  "What now?"
  
  "Now, I need your expertise," the son of Poseidon admitted. "I have a good idea of what sort of skill set I want in this group, but I don't know where to look for, and I haven't the time to introduce myself to the Questers available one by one."
  
  "You know Castellan will want to make his recruitment too, right?"
  
  "Yes, he will, and without any financial or reward incentives, how do you think it's going to go for him?" The black-haired member of Bungalow Sixteen winced. "Exactly. I think he will recruit one or two Demigods, but I'm not ready to bet on something more than that. Now let's return to the profile of our 'volunteers'."
  
  The smile grew hungrier and more vicious.
  
  "I want a Sorcerer."
  
  There were barely ten minutes before it was ten in the morning, and Luke so far had found a single volunteer...a volunteer he had every reason to desire she stayed as far away from this Great Quest as possible.
  
  "Annabeth, be reasonable..."
  
  "I am reasonable!" the child of Athena of course immediately protested. "During Great Quests, the age limit of thirteen doesn't apply and-"
  
  "Annabeth," the son of Hermes was forced to strike his desk once to stop her nonsense. "The guys around the camp can laugh about Jackson's 'Suicide Squad' joke all they want, but the problem is that he isn't wrong. This Great Quest is beyond the Gold, Silver, and Bronze Quests handed out every year. It isn't merely dangerous; it is truly suicidal."
  
  "But you need someone to watch over this disloyal son of Poseidon...besides Zoë Nightshade. You are the leader!"
  
  "No I am not," the blonde-haired thief was prompt to throw this idea where it belonged, which was in a pyre-dustbin. "Oh, Olympus has ordered something saying I am in charge, and I suppose I will be as long as we're near New Byzantium and the Gods can keep their eyes upon us."
  
  "You think Jackson is going to usurp your authority?"
  
  "I think someone is going to ask 'what's the plan, peerless leader?' and when I reveal I haven't one, the Demigods and Demigoddesses of this group will follow Jackson, who since he's a madman, will likely have thought over some insanity to lead us to the Underworld."
  
  "That's...that's not how Quests are supposed to work," the grey-haired girl protested weakly.
  
  "That's not how they work normally," the Councillor of the Hermes Bungalow agreed. "But this Quest isn't normal, and someone is determined to sacrifice plenty of Demigods as long as Jackson dies."
  
  At least the reunion of last evening had been good to make sure how important he was to Olympus and the thunderbolt-wielding God. And the answer was: more important than the average Quester, but not enough to not be sacrificed when there was a bigger fish was waiting to be caught. The children of the Big Three were more important than you, Luke Castellan, whether it was their survival or demise which was debated.
  
  "Well, err...as long as Jackson dies..."
  
  "Remember Odysseus? The guy who stole some sheep and insulted a Cyclops, and received ten years of trials and disasters in retribution? That was for merely injuring and mocking a son of Poseidon, and one who was part-monster. I prefer not to imagine the punishment the Stormbringer would have for someone involved in the death of one of his part-human sons."
  
  "We will find a way. I will find a way." There were many people, even among Demigods, who didn't know what their Fatal Flaw was. Sometimes, unless you were in a do-or-die situation, there was no way to know which weakness could lead you to an early grave.
  
  Such wasn't the case with Annabeth. Her Fatal Flaw was Hubris without contest.
  
  "I beg you, Annabeth. Give Up. There will be other Quests, and no doubt they will be far less dangerous this one. You will have your opportunity to shine. Whatever good you think you can do, I assure you it isn't worth it."
  
  He could already tell by her stubborn attitude and her determined eyes this advice had been uttered in pure waste. She was just like Thalia, before...
  
  "I volunteer for this Great Quest. You need me, and since there aren't twelve Questers volunteering, you have to accept."
  
  "You are doing this for all the wrong reasons," the Hermes Councillor sighed. "But if it's your decision, so be it. Go to your Bungalow and write your last will. Enjoy your last hours of calm and peace. I am going to find the son of Poseidon and tell him our ranks have increased by one."
  
  Lou had only finished her third cup of coffee when Perseus Jackson entered the Hecate Barrack.
  
  Silence immediately reigned. While it was far from rare Dionysus or another Olympian decided to collapse their wards because he or she felt angry at their mere presence, the children of Hecate were rather proud of their ward-creating skills, and no Demigod in the last half-century had been able to break through them on his or her own.
  
  "Greetings, Children of Hecate," the crazy boy proclaimed, just as sceptres and a considerable amount of magical foci were pointed at him. "I have come to offer you my eternal friendship."
  
  "Friendship?" Alabaster, their Barrack Councillor shouted. "You aren't our friend, get the fuck out-"
  
  "I don't like profanities. Be quiet, naughty boy."
  
  Alabaster Torrington was struck mute. He tried to speak, place his hands against his throat, activate a counter-spell...all in pure loss.
  
  "You can't beat us all!" one of her younger brothers erupted, which was in hindsight the wrong thing to boast about.
  
  "Be quiet, Harry Potter. Return transfiguring your needles, the intelligent people are talking."
  
  The ripple of power was even bigger this time, and Lou shivered.
  
  "Charmspeak," the young witch murmured, "he's mastered charmspeak."
  
  This was a mistake. The next heartbeat, she had the full and undivided attention of the mad Demigod.
  
  "Ah, so that's how it is called here."
  
  "It is something a few children of Aphrodite and Venus have," the fifteen-years-old witched tried to sound as conversational as possible, hoping throwing the narcissist Demigods under the bulldozer of madness would save them from whatever the son of Poseidon had in store. She also used her self-control skills to not wince as her half-brother began to transfigure needless into toys with an angry expression. "I'm sure they will love to explain to you the intricacies of their powers."
  
  In fact, she was utterly sure of the contrary, but it wasn't her problem.
  
  Alas, the son of the Earthshaker didn't treat it as the dismissal it was.
  
  Instead he walked towards her. Oh no...
  
  "You are gifted in High Arcana," somehow, the insane intruder touched one of her precious Tarot cards she had imbued with spells and managed to not blow it up.
  
  Lou thought about denying, but the green eyes, for all their craziness, were not bluffing.
  
  "I prefer the term 'Advanced Mystiokinesis'."
  
  "White Rabbit, Rabbit white," the younger black-haired scion of the oceans shrugged. "That makes you easily the most powerful sorceress of this realm of one-eyed monkeys. And it so happens I have need of a sorceress for an adventure."
  
  "Out of the question," the blonde-haired daughter of Hecate hissed, unleashing her power to activate the spell of the card he held, "Burn!"
  
  A cold wind engulfed the Barrack, and before the spell could be hurled at his face, there was an ice crystal levitating in front of her, and the card finished consuming itself inside.
  
  That was...how by the pits of Tartarus had Jackson done that?
  
  "Six out of ten," the infuriating boy judged. "The surprise attack wasn't bad, but you're taking way too long focusing your magic. It's something we will have to work upon."
  
  "I told you, I won't go with you..."
  
  "Why? You enjoy wallowing in your self-imposed mediocrity so much?"
  
  "There isn't anything self-imposed," one of her older half-sisters screamed. "You will-"
  
  "Summon rabbits from the hat in the corner." The witch went to take a large hat and began to -somehow - conjure rabbits from it. "Where were we?"
  
  "We aren't mediocre," the black-eyed daughter of Hecate affirmed. "We are maintaining and reinforcing the most powerful wards of the city and the land defences! We are the main supplier of amulets and enchanted objects with no rival! We are-"
  
  "You aren't trusted. And this is why you have chosen to side with the Lord of the Underworld in the coming war."
  
  "How do you know that?" one of her younger siblings exclaimed.
  
  "Well, I have my suspicions, but thank you for confirming them," Perseus Jackson answered cheekily. "Now I believe the blackmail will be all the more effective. Tarot witch here comes with me-"
  
  "My name is Lou Ellen Blackstone, seaweed brain!"
  
  "Seaweed brain? Seriously?" the green-eyed son of Poseidon was incredibly amused. "This insult was pitiful when the children of Athena used it before the Age of Rome, try something a bit more original and clever next time. But back to the subject at hand. I am going to blackmail you. It is easier since you have very dark secrets Olympus would be very displeased to discover after your Barrack conspired with the defunct Loki during World War II. I also found mentions of several of your most prominent Questers conspiring with Circe during the First?"
  
  "You are unpleasantly well-informed," Lou told the male Demigod. "Anyway, even if I wanted to go with you - and I don't - the children of Hecate have been defended from participating in the usual Quests. It's easier for the Gods to control what we learn and are in contact with."
  
  "But this is no normal Quest, this is a Great One...and the usual rules don't apply."
  
  The worst part was that this crazy spawn of the Earthshaker looked to be completely serious.
  
  "I am not battle-experienced," the daughter of the Goddess of Magic said, unfortunately aware her siblings were ready to sacrifice her for keeping their secrets...secret. "I didn't leave the camp since I was twelve, and never went onto a Quest. Why are you so intent on recruiting me?"
  
  Her Tarot card fell back on the table, miraculously intact.
  
  "You are the gift to cast High Arcana spells. You have potential. And yet New Byzantium is content to waste it like you are a hedge witch, because in their hearts, they know you can become a dangerous player on your own. Alone, you have already talent in Pyrokinesis and Umbrakinesis. Confronted to dangerous opponents, you will take the first steps on your apotheosis. You are the daughter of a Titaness. You can write your own story."
  
  "If the monsters don't kill me and the Gods don't incinerate me until nothing but ashes are left," the pale blonde-haired witch countered.
  
  "The path to victory is not without a few hurdles of its own," the son of Poseidon shrugged. "Anyway, this is your last chance to embrace greatness instead of mediocrity. I can teach you plenty of tricks will be of great help to your development, and I came to own a few magical books on my own after several incidents."
  
  Damn it, damn it, damn it! How did it come to this? She had firmly intended to refuse and now...
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone tried to control her panic. The worst part, was that these treacherous words burned in her heart. Every children of Hecate who lived at camp knew the list of things they weren't supposed to do was twenty times bigger than the list of permissible deeds.
  
  "I want to be paid."
  
  "That goes without saying," the Demigod replied, seriously for once. "An arduous work deserves a just reward. And I will go so far as to deliver in your custody any magical books or container of magical knowledge which happens to be found during this Great Quest."
  
  Damn him. She was so going to die...
  
  "What are your orders, Jackson?"
  
  Zoë was the loyal lieutenant of Artemis and would obey all her orders faithfully and to the letter. There had never been any question about that.
  
  Yet for the first time, the former Hesperides thought Zeus' 'cleverness' was putting her in a very dangerous situation. It was all very good to be ordered to kill Jackson at the first sign of disloyalty. But she had expected the Demigods - and especially the Demigoddesses - chosen for this Great Quest would be loyal to Olympus.
  
  It had only taken the time for the representative of the Ares Barrack to arrive to be disabused of this notion. Zoë Nightshade could only find solace the 'girl' was a spawn of Ares, and thus hardly a stellar example of feminine grace...
  
  "You have a plan for this Great Quest, Huntress?" the muscular Demigoddess barked. "No? Then we wait for Castellan and Jackson to arrive. If you have something to say against that, my spear is ready to give you a lesson. The tournament in the arena barely warmed me up!"
  
  Fortunately - and she couldn't believe she thought that - Perseus Jackson didn't take long before arriving. More surprising, he wasn't followed by the dark-haired son of Nemesis, but by a blonde wearing a long enchanted robe of black silk which was levitating numerous magical objects around her. Her face was arrogant and her black eyes gave her a dismissing glance before returning to her magical tricks.
  
  Damn it, this traitor of son of Poseidon had to find a child of Hecate, didn't he?
  
  "Ah, the selection of the Ares Barrack is over?"
  
  "It is," the tall girl - she was towering over Jackson so much it was nearly funny - "I am Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, Champion of Barrack Five."
  
  The immortal Huntress hoped the near-boy descendant of the War God would break Jackson's limb when they shook hands, but no such luck.
  
  "Your spear is damaged."
  
  "Yes, Sherman is a sore loser," the tallest Quester around replied. "Don't worry Jackson, I'm going to Hephaestus Barrack immediately after this meeting is over. They do very good work, it will be fully repaired this evening."
  
  "I have no doubt about it," the Demigod made this evil smile which always announced something extremely bad. "But, no offence, this is only the Shredder Spear Mark I. It's a weapon from the Ares Forges, I will give you that...but it's not extremely durable against first-tier enemies."
  
  "You'd better not insult my father, Jackson..." Clarisse La Rue growled, her ugly light brown hair and her cruel eyes emphasizing her boar-type ancestry.
  
  "Wouldn't dream of it," the green-eyed threat chipped while rummaging in his pockets, before throwing out a sort of bright red pen. "Try that and tell me what you think."
  
  Zoë hadn't the time to protest that the other girl had uncapped the pen, and in a bright red flash an enormous spear flashed into her hands.
  
  The millennia-old servant of Artemis was a weapon expert. A heartbeat was enough to know this weapon was really, really bad news. It was a bit shorter than the usual spears used by the half-blood of New Byzantium, but its long handle was richly decorated in red and gold with numerous carvings of slaughter and battles. It was entirely metal, and the edge was Celestial Bronze mixed with some alloy she didn't recognise.
  
  How Jackson had managed to find it wasn't hard to guess.
  
  "This is stolen Amazon property," she hissed.
  
  "Who extorted it to Ares," the son of Poseidon smiled and chuckled like it was no big deal. "I'm sure the War God will be very happy his favourite daughter wields it during the Great Quest."
  
  "Incredible," and for once the daughter of Ares was almost reverent as she admired her new weapon. "I can feel its power..."
  
  "This is a limited-edition, the Carnifex Mark Five, if I remember correctly. Consider it an investment to show I believe in the survival of all the Questers which will follow me."
  
  "You aren't the leader of this Quest, Jackson!" Zoë Nightshade felt forced to remind him. "Clarisse, give up this weapon! It is heavily cursed! It will force you to feed ever-increasing quantities of blood to it or will suffer the same effects as Ares curses!"
  
  The grin of Ares' daughter proved this was the wrong thing to say.
  
  "A very good gift, Jackson, thanks! I'm going to go repair Shredder just in case, but Carnifex is going to be my new favourite weapon!"
  
  The dark brown-haired Huntress had a brief moment of despair as she saw the brute depart. Any hope the folly of Jackson would die with him was getting even more unlikely by the second.
  
  There was no time to grab the traitor by the throat, unfortunately, as a new Demigod, this one who had not unfamiliar to her, went to salute Jackson the Roman way.
  
  "Dakota McDonald, son of Bacchus, I want to volunteer for this Great Quest."
  
  "Are you sure, son of one of my favourite Gods?" it was like a switch had been made and the son of Poseidon was once more 'reasonable'. "It won't be a question of pushing wine barrels on this adventure."
  
  "You're drinking wine so much?" the blue eyes of the Demigod widened.
  
  "I don't drink wine, period," the threat joyously corrected. "I drown people in it, but never mind. This is going to be dangerous, are you sure you want to volunteer? I don't want to anger Bacchus, and I'm not able to promise you survival is assured given where we are going to travel."
  
  "I want to prove myself," the black-haired son of the God of Wine showed a courageous face, "and I have screwed up on so many Quests this one is really my best chance to be accepted into the ranks of the Questers."
  
  "Favourite weapon?"
  
  "The Gladius," the Roman-born Demigod admitted. "And I have control over vines."
  
  "Excellent! Dakota McDonald, welcome to the Suicide Squad!"
  
  Zoë Nightshade desired nothing less than removing half of the teeth of Jackson...unfortunately, Poseidon was no doubt watching. But she would have her chance soon...
  
  The witch and the son of Bacchus departed to order some supplies and maps, and she was alone with the treacherous Demigod...not for long, though.
  
  The son of Nemesis was back, and he was accompanied by another Demigod who was eminently recognisable.
  
  "Out of the question!" She barked. "Jackson, you will not add this...this criminal to our ranks!"
  
  "When you will begin to contribute to the recruitment process, maybe I will begin to consider your words, grand archer of Artemis. Now please be quiet, I have a new recruit before me. Name?"
  
  "Scipio Janus," the grey hair were not indicative of his age, it was Janus' legacy proof. Seventeen-years-old, wearing a non-official Legionnaire armour, the male Demigod was exactly like the daughter of Ares: tall, muscular, and seemingly shrouded in an aura of bloodlust.
  
  "The son of Michael Varus, who lost all his Cohort in Alaska and had to be saved by another Legion?"
  
  "My family's shame has largely reached past Byzantium's frontier, it seems," the near-adult half-blood boy bared his teeth. "I'm in need of gold to pay for the upkeep of my family's villa, and yours is rumoured to offer some substantial rewards."
  
  "Weapons?"
  
  Scipio Varus drew the massive sword which had been kept unsheathed on his back.
  
  "Are you sure you're not compensating for something, big boy?"
  
  "Careful Jackson," the legacy of Janus sneered. "Last time I checked, many Gods were offering very nice bounties for your head. My Zweihänder and myself could easily decide to handle a short-term payment instead of a long-term one."
  
  "Assuming your mouth equals your skill, I'm afraid my father would be somewhat peeved against you...there's a high likelihood you wouldn't even have the time to collect my head. Just saying it for your basic knowledge, clearly."
  
  "Clearly," Scipio Varus put back his enormous sword on his back. "Two million Drachmas?"
  
  "Two million Drachmas," the other Demigod confirmed. "My head has to remain attached to my shoulders for you to collect, of course."
  
  "Former Centurion Scipio Varus at your service," the grey-haired killer smiled. "Who do you want me to kill, boss?"
  
  Thank Artemis' wisdom Luke Castellan and Annabeth Chase arrived in the seconds after, because Zoë Nightshade was beginning to wonder if all the Demigods of the Great Quest were traitors just waiting for Jackson to find them...
  
  "Let me guess: you are here to offer your eternal friendship after our mother kicked your ass."
  
  "This was my intention..." Perseus wanted to monologue quite a bit, but the air was intoxicated with perfume and everything more or less associated with cosmetics. As a result, what should have felt pleasant in moderate quantities was absolutely unbearable for his nose and his senses. "But I have changed my mind, Sharon."
  
  Immediately, the amused expression was replaced by an angry look.
  
  "It's Silena, not Sharon. Do you want me to call my mother to kick your ass again?"
  
  "There's a little problem with that, Sidney," the beat-down must have been for show, but he, as an ex-Tyrant, had his pride. And being threatened by a girl who had likely not used a weapon in anger for most of her short life was something he wasn't going to tolerate. "This was not your mother who defeated me. This was the Roman version of her, and I have no doubt that Victrix isn't proud of the sheer absence of talent you're enjoying on a daily basis."
  
  "Turn your feet around and drown yourself into the ocean, Jackson," well, well, well, the children of Hecate's information had been right. Of course, the effect was pathetic to what a veteran Named could do, but Silena Beauregard was getting points for the attempt.
  
  "Sorry, I don't fancy going swimming today," the male Demigod replied courteously, and the eyes of the daughter of Aphrodite widened in shock. "Let me show you how you do it correctly, pretty girl. Kneel."
  
  One second, and the blue-eyed Demigoddess was kissing the ground in front of him.
  
  "How? How? Charmspeak is the birthright of our Barrack! You can't-"
  
  "I can. I master. And I order." The green-eyed son of Poseidon lowered himself to where she had been humbled. "You're right this is one of the talents of Aphrodite. But like magic can be learned by children of the Gods who aren't sons and daughters of Hecate, this vocal weapon can be learned by someone who hasn't your lineage. Rise."
  
  He gave her ten seconds to calm herself, ignoring all the while the crowd of aspiring top models who were not missing a minute of the spectacle.
  
  "You want to take a Charmspeak-gifted member of Aphrodite with you? Fine, I volunteer. Spare my siblings, they aren't ready to depart for something like this."
  
  Perseus allowed himself a chuckle.
  
  "Maybe I was wrong, after all. One daughter of Aphrodite has indeed the steel spine of her Roman mother." For a second the ex-Tyrant hesitated, but the choice was easily made. The girl's survival would still be a matter of luck, and he hated relying upon this capricious power. And Silena Beauregard was promising. He had felt the power behind her words, even if she was a novice in it. "I will not take you with me. You have some potential, it would be shameful to risk it too early. But don't think you won't have an easy time of it at New Byzantium. You're going to work on your strengths. No more wasting half of your day on make-up. You will push your Charmspeak until the Gods themselves feel the compulsion! You will train your body so that the moment an enemy falters seeing your strength, your sword is stabbing his neck! You are a Demigoddess of Love, prove it!"
  
  This was time for a good old-fashioned monologue, the Gods knew these cowardly pack of peacocks deserved it!
  
  "I accused the children of Hecate from wallowing in their mediocrity one hour ago," the powerful black-haired Demigod began, "but they at least have attenuating circumstances and their decadence has not reached a third of yours! You call yourselves Demigods and Demigoddesses? You are merely impostors inspecting your nails and justifying the mirror production of New Byzantium! It is not even worth asking if you have weapon skills, because watching your hands, it's evident you don't have any!"
  
  He didn't even have to find the words, because frankly, this was the truth from the first sentence to the last. The equivalent of a small army of Named, and they were utterly squandering their potential.
  
  "In case you have missed the news, war is coming! Congratulations sons and daughters of Aphrodite: right now, I can say without much risk of being wrong that your life-expectancy will last exactly the time the other Barracks will survive, because you don't have a single chance of lasting a minute on a true battlefield. But by all means, prove me wrong. Prove me you aren't the waste of time, food, and cosmetics I'm taking you for."
  
  A score of his audience was already running to call Chiron, no doubt to complain about the insults and the truths he had revealed. Perseus carved their appearances in his mind. Those ones were failures and couldn't be trusted for anything.
  
  "Now except for Silena Beauregard, everyone who knows how to Charmspeak, one step forwards."
  
  Of a crowd of fifty-plus, only five did so, two boys and three girls. The former were far too young, of the latter one was too old and the second must have been dieting; she was more than useless.
  
  That left the third one. She had the body and the facial type of the Asian women, rather pretty - though with Aphrodite, that was kind of a given - long black hair and brown eyes. Obviously with her pink make-up and her jewellery, she was not a warrior. Her pink nails and a skin which must have been its weight in gold given how many soaps and creams kept it in prime condition were evidence enough of that.
  
  "Name?"
  
  "I am Drew Tanaka, and I am not going to participate in your stupid Quest!"
  
  "Thank you for volunteering, Debbie!"
  
  "I am not Debbie!" the daughter of Aphrodite roared, with less strength in her voice compared to her older half-sister, but a still respectable amount of power.
  
  "Thank you for volunteering, Dorothy!"
  
  "Silena...Silena stop him! I don't want to do his Quest! I don't want to die!"
  
  In a splendid display of Barrack unity, the elder girl went to place herself between him and her. Something which had to cost her, because judging the satisfied expressions of some of the Demigods, Drew was not someone who had a lot of friends among her half-brothers and half-sisters.
  
  "Perseus, my sister...is not wrong. She isn't ready for this."
  
  "Your whole Barrack isn't ready for this." Perseus chided her. "But if you had begun to train seriously since the Master Bolt was stolen, maybe, just maybe, you would have a modicum of experience and skill by now. That you haven't done the shadow of a preparation is something I'm still puzzled about. How long did you think the other Demigods were going to accept you failing to show up on the conscription lists?"
  
  Silena Beauregard didn't try to glare back. The truth hurt when it was spoken every time.
  
  "Your half-sister is coming with me. See it as an educational experience...and I will purchase her equipment myself." One had to be generous even in victory, especially as an aura of pink appeared above the girl he had chosen. "Use the time left until the Solstice to wonder something, children of Aphrodite! Why do you think the Gods are so content to let you stay in front of your mirrors and your perfumed baths?"
  
  Each hour Ethan thought he had seen the limits of the madness of Perseus Jackson, and each time the mad boy thrived to prove him wrong.
  
  Recruiting any daughter of Aphrodite - or a son for that matter - was just something crazy. Of the several thousands of Questers serving the Gods all over the world, the children of the Love Goddess were those who barely met the requirements of being Questers in the first place. Ethan was going to admit he didn't train as hard as a child of Ares, but there was a major difference between doing what he did and the absolute lack of dedication shown by Bungalow Ten.
  
  Recruiting this daughter of Aphrodite was going to be nothing but trouble. The son of Nemesis had hoped they would get someone who could serve as cheerleader, but they had gained Drew Tanaka, a narcissist bitch whose main claim to fame was to break the hearts of the boy she dated. Weapon skill? Zero. Martial abilities? Zero. Endurance before she broke a nail and cried for the charming knight to come and save her? Zero.
  
  And she was part of their team. The more they recruited, the more Ethan understood the mad boy wanted the name of Suicide Squad to fit. Most of the Demigods and Demigoddesses that had 'volunteered' hated each other's guts. Nightshade and Chase loathed Jackson, and this was just one of these 'cordial' relationships.
  
  "We are missing only two Demigods, and we will have our twelve members," he said formally as Jackson and he were travelling back to Barrack Three. "Any ideas, oh not-leader?"
  
  "Some, my treacherous lieutenant," Jackson replied. "A few of them are more important than the others. I dearly want a healer, for example."
  
  Ethan grimaced. This was something that made a lot of sense. Unfortunately...
  
  "The sons of Asclepius have refused to come out or open their door today," maybe to avoid 'volunteering' like the Barracks of Hecate and Aphrodite. "And the sons of Apollo shot arrows in your direction the moment you are coming too close from their redoubt."
  
  "Which was very rude of them," the green-eyed Demigod complained. "I had my banner of peace and everything, can't a man proclaim his eternal friendship to a sunny Barrack?"
  
  There was only one word for that kind of crazy reasoning.
  
  "No."
  
  "I am a misunderstood soul." The son of Poseidon sighed. "Why are the campers dragging people in chains towards us?"
  
  "If I have to make a guess, oh my not-leader, I would say they've learned how you recruited Drew Tanaka, and decided to volunteer their own choices before you chose for them."
  
  "This is extremely frustrating," the new terror of New Byzantium pouted. "I had speeches and everything prepared. Barracks of Hephaestus and Demeter?"
  
  "I think so," Ethan answered, wondering what those poor 'volunteers' had done to be sacrificed by their own brothers and sisters. He had not long to wait.
  
  "Jackson!" Charles Beckendorf, son of Hephaestus, called out. "We have found you volunteers."
  
  "They definitely look like volunteers indeed," the boy and the girl were manacled and in chains, and they were gagged. Compared to them, Drew Tanaka had 'volunteered' with good grace and dignity. "Mind telling me their crimes? We of the Suicide Squad have exacting standards to uphold."
  
  The son of Nemesis didn't know what was worse, that the mad boy managed to say it with a grin, or that some Demigods laughed nervously by fear of offending him.
  
  "This is Jake Mason, my half-brother," the senior Hephaestus son present said as he pushed forwards a black-haired boy with the usual scars and burns of someone spending his time in the forge from dawn to dusk. "His automatons have an alarming frequency to turn murderous these days, and they caused a lot of damage with their latest rebellion...damage he now has to reimburse if he wants to step into our Barrack again, one way or another."
  
  "This is Miranda Gardiner, my half-sister," the son of Demeter next to him explained as the brown-haired girl threw him a hateful glare. "Her...unnatural experiments with carnivorous flowers have also resulted in devastation and tragedy over the last month. This Great Quest will repay her debts, whether...if she succeeds."
  
  "Outstanding! Thank your Barracks for their generous contribution to the ever-legendary Suicide Squad. Now you can remove their gags, they have volunteered, no need to stop them from shouting their joy..."
  
  What came after was a torrent of insults, but the contrary would have been surprising...
  
  8 May 2006, New Byzantium, New York coastline, United States of America (de jure)
  
  They met one hour before dawn far from the Barracks. They were twelve, as the conditions of the Great Quest stipulated.
  
  Despite the legendary optimism of Hermes line fuelling him, Luke was certain it was going to be an epic disaster.
  
  They gave out the required document to the Legionnaires' night-time sentinels so that the Western Gate was opened to them, and they departed into the night, without one manifestation of support or respect. Some part of him wanted to believe the early hour was responsible for that, but seriously, there wouldn't be much joy and applause even if it had been done at noon.
  
  Many Greek and Roman Demigods wanted this war against Hades. After decades of the same peacetime Quests repeated over and over, any change from normalcy was seen as good. They were idiots, but until they really saw the kind of monsters which were waiting for them, they wouldn't change their opinions.
  
  No, the Great Quest had little support, and what strength had been mustered was completely inadequate. They shouldn't have gathered twelve 'warriors' but twelve hundred, minimum. A whole Roman Legion, six thousand and six hundred frontline fighters would have been even better.
  
  But they were twelve, and not exactly the twelve most loyal or united Demigods to have existed.
  
  Perseus Jackson was taking the lead, since no one save him knew where they were going. Four gargoyles carried massive bags, which for the most part were either food or stolen items which would be thrown against their opponents. At least for all his madness, the son of Poseidon really looked like a proper Quester now: he wore elaborate Atlantean-style green armour whose protections had the appearance of scales, and two short swords were in the scabbards tied to his belt.
  
  Zoë Nightshade was following him like his shadow. The immortal Huntress didn't even pretend to be here for something else than executing the son of Poseidon. Her silver armour was nearly entirely hidden under the long beige cloak and hunting clothes of Artemis' servants, but the quiver and the silver bow were neatly in evidence.
  
  He was third in the line of advance, and his thoughts never could stop wondering what he was really doing in this band of cutthroats and self-destructive Demigods. The Hesperides should have been the exploit of his Quester career, except suddenly it wasn't.
  
  The daughter of Hecate was coming after him. Unlike most of them, Lou Ellen Blackstone seemed to delight in walking through the woods while darkness still ruled the world. Her armour was also lighter than nearly everyone else, for the midnight black protection appeared so body-tight that his eyes insisted armour like that wouldn't stop a single arrow.
  
  Annabeth was in fifth position, trying hard not to yawn when someone was looking at her. Of all people he wanted not to risk the life of, hers was first with no equal, but she hadn't given him the choice. He could only pray this wasn't going to end in tragedy. Thalia would never forgive him...
  
  Scipio Varus was their sixth member, and Luke would not shed a tear if this assassin disappeared. The ex-Legionnaire was a merciless killer which should have been executed for his crimes, he was one of those infamous duellist-killers Rome produced from time to time. Last of the Varus line which had risen countless times high to the Consulate of Constantinople and fallen hard as many times, nobody wanted him to stand in his back, but the ridiculous conditions and low survivability of the Great Quest meant all volunteers were accepted.
  
  Miranda Gardiner was singing a mournful song as they progressed westwards. Donning brown armour the very shade of her hair, the daughter of Demeter was depressed and visibly tormented.
  
  Jake Mason was showing a more positive expression, though the enormous machine gun his siblings had allowed him to take with him had undoubtedly something to do with that. It said quite something that despite being thirteen, the son of Hephaestus was able to carry this huge weapon seemingly without effort, while he would have struggled with it despite being six years older.
  
  Dakota McDonald was continuing to drink his Kool-Aid, as usual. Despite knowing that the flask was connected to his main 'reserve' of the stuff in Barrack Twelve, Luke wondered how long the liquid supplies were going to last given how stressed the son of Bacchus was.
  
  Drew Tanaka was tenth as they marched out relentlessly without pause and the solar chariot of Lord Apollo was sending its first ray of lights in their backs. Her presence was an even bigger mystery than some, for it was obvious that unlike everyone of their group, the daughter of Aphrodite hadn't the slightest military training to rely upon for survival. The white armour and the white bow Jackson had given her looked like reliable protection and weapon respectively, but they couldn't fight in her stead. And no, Charmspeak wasn't the correct explanation. If the rumours were true, Jackson could do it too, and one didn't two identical specialties in a group so small.
  
  Ethan Nakamura was following her, dark shadow in a dark world. The son of Nemesis seemed to be even grimmer now that he was experiencing the madness of Perseus Jackson.
  
  And last but certainly not least, Clarisse was the twelfth, her new red spear ready to be seized on her back, and with shield and armour alone she looked like a massively armoured boar, something reinforced by her helmet.
  
  A few minutes later, they began to decrease their pace, and then Jackson brutally changed course for the north until they reached a clearance.
  
  "We are going to rest ten minutes," Luke announced. Drew Tanaka and Lou Ellen Blackstone certainly seemed to need it, and there were others who would benefit from this short moment, Dakota to give a single name. "Jackson! I believe the time for your mysteries and secrecy is over."
  
  "I completely agree," the son of Poseidon had the gall to smile at them like he had done a good joke. "Naturally the risk of spies inside our group is still astronomically high, but their ability to report to their patrons will be...difficult, shall we say?"
  
  "Enough," Zoë Nightshade was not and likely would never be the friend of Perseus Jackson, given how little she enjoyed his 'humour'. "Tell us your plan."
  
  "Of course, of course..." Luke wanted to slap the Huntress, for after this 'order', it was guaranteed the crazy Demigod was going to delay things for as long as he could. He even went so far as to throw a bronze medallion towards several big stones of the clearing. "I think the problem we are facing in this Quest is evident. We must go to the Underworld. The Lord of Below does not want such an attempt to succeed, and guards all entrances known to him, the stable and the unstable ones alike. Therefore we must find a solution which guarantees my uncle won't see us coming until it is far too late. An entrance neither the God of Strength for his famous trials, Orpheus, or the myriad of heroes who descended under the earth used for their own purposes."
  
  "And you believe you have found such an entrance?" Annabeth's scepticism couldn't have been more evident if she had said it outright.
  
  "I do not believe," the grin was filled with madness, "I have found one. And the best part? We will be able to use it to escape if we succeed in our mission, for it is a path not even the Legions of Hell are able to navigate at will."
  
  The medallion thrown away began to shine in a golden light, and suddenly part of the clearing began to collapse like a secret cavern had been opened not far below where they waited.
  
  It was maybe not far from the truth, for as the dust rapidly fell down and they took slow steps towards whatever disaster Jackson had caused, Luke and all the other Questers watched as unadorned white walls of stone were revealed. The passage appeared to not go far, for there was a Delta symbol on another wall barring the way.
  
  Oh no. Chiron had spoken about it one day. It had been one of his most interesting lessons, how to avoid entering the Zones Mortalis, and if this Delta letter was here, that meant-
  
  "Suicide Squad, admire our secret invasion path to the Underworld," Perseus Jackson gloated. "Before you one of the entrances of the mythical Labyrinth stand!"
  
  The first reaction didn't make itself wait.
  
  "You're completely insane!"
  
  Author's note: Next chapter, the invasion of the Labyrinth.
  
  Many traps and lethal dangers await our valiant heroes...that is, if they don't kill each other first.
  
  The Great Quest has begun, all brakes have been sabotaged.
  
  The madness can and will truly escalate. Perseus Jackson will make sure of it.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  www .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archiveofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  www . pa treon Antony444
  
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  The Labyrinth Invasion
  Chapter 4
  
  The Labyrinth Invasion
  
  Before speaking about the Labyrinth, one must give the definition what exactly a Zone Mortalis is.
  
  Ironically enough, the first mentions of them during Antiquity didn't insist upon the potential danger they represented to all non-immortal beings. During these ancient times, these places were called the Mist Zones: immense areas where the reality of the mundane world was overwritten by the fantastic locations most people usually believed existed only in tales and legends.
  
  But as the Gods began to hide more and more the proof of their existence into the Mist, it became vital to ensure the Zones were kept away from the human civilisations' eyes. Thus Olympus doubled down on the quantity of Mist to make sure the mortals didn't wander where they had no reason to be.
  
  The consequences were all too predictable, sadly. Contrary to most continental masses, the Demigods travelled far too rarely to these locations. As a result, the Greek and Roman forces weren't able to realise in time how explosive the growth in danger and monsters had been while they weren't looking.
  
  Worse, the lack of vigilance of Olympus struck again. The Gods and Goddesses - save a few exceptions - had missed an opportunity, and few of them had enclaves or fortresses to call their own in the middle of the Zones. To help Demigods complete their Quests, they would have to directly intervene, something they always hesitated to do for non-immortals when the ancient laws were enforced, whether or not the survival of their sons and daughters was at stake.
  
  By the early 1600s, nobody called these dangerous locations Mist Zones anymore. Whatever the language, they were called Zones Mortalis, and no one argued this wasn't an accurate name. Non-immortal's lives - to a few rare exceptions - were in extreme danger once they crossed the fragile boundaries separating them from the non-Mist-shrouded world. Time ceased to be linear. Monsters could wait a league away, not in tens or hundreds, but in thousands or tens of thousands. Millenary-old spells could transform you into an animal or give you five arms in the blink of an eye. Enemies of the Olympians took refuge there, where their nemeses had enormous difficulties confirming their presence, much less reaching them.
  
  Evidently, this state of affairs was one only the bravest and more prepared Demigods could answer, preferably in large numbers. Divine benediction was a must-have too.
  
  The legendary Labyrinth, originally conceived and built on the orders of the inventor Daedalus, was one of the first Zones Mortalis to ever exist. Against the warnings of several Gods, one of the most famous sons of Athena had created a self-aware, self-expanding maze, and given it a malevolent consciousness. Like most Zones, it wanted to be found, and the Olympians' analyses were that hundreds of mortals disappeared into its depths every year, never to be seen again. The rate of escape of Demigods from this continent-spanning underground maze was little better. Those who tended to survive the Labyrinth's trials returned broken, mad, or crippled for life.
  
  Predictably, the Olympian edict that no hero uninvolved in a Quest below Gold-rank was to enter the Labyrinth solved nothing at all. People continued to enter the Labyrinth at their risks and perils, and paid a dreadful price for it...
  
  Extract from The Labyrinth: Zone Mortalis, author unknown, the work was declared forbidden in 1963 by the Olympian Censorship Board and all known copies were seized and destroyed.
  
  8 May 2006, one of the Labyrinth entrances, somewhere in the woods of New York, United States of America
  
  "You're completely insane!"
  
  Annabeth's lips had spoken the words before she could control herself, but she didn't regret them. The son of Poseidon was even crazier than she had thought in her darkest nightmares. The Labyrinth, really? It wasn't a short-cut! It was the maddest course of action one could imagine! Forget the Underworld and the lands Hades reigned upon, the Labyrinth was going to kill them all before they met a single Hellhound!
  
  "Compliments are always appreciated, of course!" The bastard had the gall to answer. "No one has objections?"
  
  "Why you-"
  
  "Annabeth is right, Jackson," Luke fortunately intervened before she could draw and throw a few of her knives. "The Labyrinth isn't a solution. It's nothing but a gigantic death trap. There's a reason why it's among the thirteen Zones Mortalis we Demigods are all supposed to avoid at all costs. By the pits, if we weren't in a Great Quest, going there would be a crime by itself. The last guy to come out more or less unharmed was one of the Romans who went on Quest to see if Amelia Earhart was still alive."
  
  "Incorrect," the green-eyed threat to Olympus grinned, "I am alive and sane, no?"
  
  "Sane isn't the word I would use," Jake Mason muttered before speaking louder. "You went into the Labyrinth alone? With no support whatsoever?"
  
  "I had Asterius the second time," the green-armoured Demigod revealed. "And I had my friendly gargoyles to help me carry the loot and the supplies. Why so surprised?"
  
  "Jackson, there are divine beings who refuse to enter the Labyrinth, and most of those who do rarely stay long."
  
  "A good thing we are all half-divine, then," the boy who beat all records of insanity declared to them.
  
  "This isn't a strategy!" Annabeth shouted.
  
  "Oh? Then what is yours, daughter of the Mistress of Owls?"
  
  Technically, the title was correct, but it was spoken in such a mocking manner Annabeth didn't doubt it was odious joke half of the contents had still to be revealed.
  
  But the problem remained: the blonde Demigoddess had nothing to propose. The true entrances of Hades' realm were guarded by several armies, and trying to outmanoeuvre the dead on a terrain they had months to fortify had never been something feasible.
  
  "You don't even know if an access to Hell exists in the Labyrinth," she said at last.
  
  "That's incorrect," the black-haired bastard of Poseidon was prompt to crush her argument. "I've seen it with my eyes."
  
  "But can you locate it again?" surprisingly, it was the daughter of Hecate who had asked the question. "It is a known fact the Labyrinth extends over several continents now, and its maze changes minute after minute. Beyond the entrance, the pathways you used for your last adventure will be no more."
  
  "That's a good point," the mad boy agreed before grabbing an artefact which looked like a red-painted joystick of a modern video game console. "That's why I bought this from one of the official shops during my last excursion. This is a Lesser String. You point it at the destination-door, and the Lesser String will always indicate the shortest path to return to it."
  
  Annabeth was stunned. How many artefacts and items like that had Seaweed Brain gathered in his life?
  
  "It looks like a lesser version of Ariadne's String," Zoë Nightshade reluctantly nodded after examining it. "Why didn't you buy it instead of this subpar creation?"
  
  "Because, dear bow-mistress," the son of Poseidon's evil smirk was not ready to disappear, "I am rich but I am not the Rich One. This bloody automaton was asking for a price my pockets couldn't afford, curse Daedalus."
  
  "What is wrong with Daedalus?" The inventor was her hero and her model, she wasn't going to let the bastard denigrate him.
  
  "Apart from the fact he is asking for unreasonable prices, you mean?" Jackson asked very rhetorically. "I tend to not swear my eternal friendship to people who have transformed themselves into metallic automatons and are one step away from becoming an abominable intelligence. I love ambitious people, but Daedalus has gone a bit too far on his path to immortality. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a precursor of the droids of Star Wars. His Labyrinth is already as friendly as Terminator's Skynet and you can't even bribe it."
  
  "You..." Even Luke seemed to lose his words at these revelations. "You're accusing one of the most brilliant inventors of history to be an abominable intelligence?"
  
  "I can call him conglomerate of automaton minds, if you prefer," the other Demigod bared his teeth. "I wasn't able to discover how many he has, but I found three potential replacement bodies, so there can be more, it isn't like he's lacking the space downstairs."
  
  "Okay, okay!" Miranda Gardiner called out. "Enough about Daedalus. He's not what our Quest is about, and I could care less about him. Jackson, are you sure it is really the only solution? Everyone at Camp was told this is a self-expanding maze. We could wander in the Labyrinth for centuries before we find an exit, any exit, and by that time the Labyrinth's malevolence will have killed most of us."
  
  "The Labyrinth will not try to kill you, not at first," Perseus replied slowly. "Like many things born of an intelligent mind, it will try to give you trials, present some challenges once it has judged your worth. Then it will try to mould you into something new...yes, it will try to change you like it changed Asterius and Theseus millennia ago."
  
  "You should work on your reassuring speeches, Jackson," Ethan Nakamura said. "They suck."
  
  "This wasn't supposed to be reassuring, my treacherous lieutenant!" the mad boy beamed. "I was just giving my good friend Miranda Gardiner some truths about the Labyrinth's moods. Feel free to not listen if you want to live up to the noble and distinguished name of the Suicide Squad."
  
  All her instincts screamed this was a terrible idea. That they had no chance to survive whatever traps waited for them in the greatest and most dangerous of Daedalus' creations. The worst part...Jackson hadn't even pretended the contrary.
  
  "Shouldn't we ask for the help of our divine parents?" Drew Tanaka asked hesitantly with little of her usual arrogance.
  
  "It won't help at all, Drew," Jackson didn't even answer this one, Luke did. "A divine boon in one of the Zones Mortalis will be nothing but a beacon for every monster in the vicinity. They won't have to smell us anymore to be warned of our presence."
  
  "This is still a dangerous folly," Jake Mason whispered, caressing his huge machine gun. He was the only one of the Questers to be visibly armed with a modern-looking weapon.
  
  "I am not a God, and I did not ask for World War Three to begin on the Summer Solstice of this year," the green-eyed insane brain said with his favourite expression which gave her the urge to hit his face against a wall...repeatedly. "Now that the time for the moans and the objection is over, please do not listen to the whispers and voices you hear in the Labyrinth, unless you want to go to Hell as a scout ahead of my humble person. And be careful about the giant ants, last time there was a nasty hive near the entrance. Questions?"
  
  "Yes," Clarisse La Rue smiled wolfishly. "How big were these ants?"
  
  8 May 2006 or some hours and days after it, the Labyrinth
  
  Avoiding the Myrmekes was not and had likely never been an option.
  
  Clarisse, daughter of Ares, wanted a fight. And Jackson, who was leading the column, was doing so much noise there wasn't really a question if he wanted to make sure the ants heard them or not.
  
  Then an entire section of wall collapsed on their left, the ants charged from the hole just made, and their first battle in the Labyrinth began.
  
  "I HATE OLYMPUS!" Perseus Jackson bellowed, cackling like a madman, and Ethan like everyone realised one second after it was a war cry...of sorts. "CHARGE!"
  
  Clarisse didn't need to hear more than that, and the daughter of Ares impaled one of the massive dog-sized ants upon her red spear.
  
  "FIRST BLOOD FOR ARES!" By everything vengeful, what had she eaten this morning? Lion meat?
  
  "SECOND BLOOD FOR JANUS!" Scipio Varus drew his enormous sword and began to hack and mutilate the insects which survived the boar-armoured Demigoddess.
  
  This was a battle the likes which never happened at camp. Assuredly there was a lot of disorder and chaos during them, but here it was clear the anarchy was unleashed from the very start. In fact, the initial clash of the three Demigods was so violent most of them paused as the three madmen of their vanguard broke the ant offensive alone and unsupported. Zoë Nightshade added her arrows soon enough, but most of the others stayed at good distance, almost scared by the...the butchery which was occurring.
  
  The adult Myrmekes - Myrmekes was 'ant' in Greek for those who wondered - were the size of a fully grown German Shepherd. They had tough skin. They spat acid.
  
  None of it mattered as La Rue, Varus, and Jackson scythed them down, before charging again, slaughtering them in their very lair. The rest of the Questers followed and killed the ants who had survived the bloodbath, but it was easy game, as the giant ants seemed to experience the same kind of mental shock the heroes of New Byzantium did.
  
  How many of them did they kill in mere minutes? Ethan didn't know. Perhaps if someone had filmed - though it wouldn't be prudent with Lamia's Curse - they could have had a proper kill-count. Otherwise, it was impossible. Clarisse's spear was a storm of death and blood, each strike of her weapon was eviscerating or impaling a couple of insects, sometimes more. Scipio Varus was fighting in a more clinical, cold series of vertical and horizontal swipes, efficient and monstrous, but everything fell before him.
  
  As for Jackson, he was cackling and striking, an insane giggle perpetually on his lips. There seemed to be no discipline, no coherence to what he did, but everywhere he went, the ants were missing heads or limbs, the swarm of attackers was flowing towards its own allies, and madness ruled.
  
  The whole battle couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, and ended when the three finished butchering an ant bigger than her company of bodyguards, as the Myrmekes were unable to field a single additional warrior. A few tried to escape, but arrows and swords cut them down before they were successful.
  
  The ruckus of battle faded, in the ant-chamber now covered in the corpses of dark orange ants.
  
  "Was it really necessary to charge them like that?" Jake Mason was the first to find the strength to spit as everyone made sure no Myrmekes was faking death. "We could have formed a shield wall...we could have used tactics!"
  
  "Tactics?" Jackson grinned, cleaning his two swords. "Nah, tactics are boring and using them isn't a victory for evil."
  
  "May I assume you had at least a reason to charge like you did?" Ethan watched around him, and saw only the corpses of the Myrmekes and their cooling blood, which stank horribly by the way.
  
  "Well first the Lesser String is telling us to go through that door," the son of Poseidon answered, pointing a finger at the entrance the last ant had unblocked with its death. It was true an illumination in from of a cross was indeed coming out the red joystick and pointing towards it. "And second, that we are now in a Great Quest doesn't mean I'm going to skip the benefits of a new Labyrinth adventure."
  
  The mad Demigod on these words began to maniacally smash against one of the golden-painted paving stone, which under this assault didn't last five seconds before breaking in a thunderous crash.
  
  "Oh dear, these Myrmekes were even more successful than I thought," Jackson mused. Pushed by his curiosity if nothing else, Ethan walked to see what it was about...and stopped. The secret passage was opening on a sort of cavern and it was...gold. There was a lot of gold, a mountain of golden coins. There was jewellery too. And there were several daggers which had to be of Celestial Bronze.
  
  "By my father's beard," Jake Mason swore, "this is...how did you know it was here?"
  
  "Myrmekes loves the shiny things, I made the hypothesis a year ago that they are dragons the Gods reincarnated as ants to vex them." Jackson contemplated the massive pile of treasure for a few more seconds before commanding his gargoyles. "The large-sized enchanted bag, if you please, dear. I have some pillage to do."
  
  "Divided into twelve parts, I hope," Luke Castellan intervened. "I suspect you led us right in front of these Myrmekes to claim their treasure."
  
  "My friend," the unofficial leader of the Great Quest went on to present a sad and mournful expression. "Would I really do something like that as we have barely entered the Labyrinth?"
  
  "Yes," Nightshade and Chase replied instinctively, with not a second to think about it.
  
  "This hurts," the main offender complained. "Am I not renowned for my generosity? Here, Varus, one ring and a few other trinkets for you!" it was a good thing the ex-Legionnaire had good reflexes, for Jackson had not thrown the objects slowly. "And new gauntlets for you, Clarisse!"
  
  The largest of the stone gargoyles gave him the enchanted bag, and the gold and the vast quantities of artefacts and loot disappeared into it. For all its 'bottomless' description, the limits of the object seemed to be quite close when the golden and shiny treasures were grabbed.
  
  "This gargoyle is going to return at the surface and wait for us near the entrance." The son of Poseidon informed them. "We will divide the loot when this little expedition will be over, my treacherous lieutenants."
  
  "And we will have equal shares, hmm?"
  
  "Of course!" The smile of the green-eyed boy was not exactly of a trustful nature. "Now let's pursue our Quest, our fortune isn't going to be made by standing idle..."
  
  The first casualty of their expedition in the Labyrinth was their watches. Not long after the massacre of Myrmekes, the minute and the hour hand of their clocks had begun moving without rhythm or reason. One moment a step lasted exactly how it was supposed to, the other two heartbeats happened to last four hours...and then the minute hands were going back in time.
  
  Their surroundings didn't help fighting against this time-distortion effect. A few steps after leaving the butchered hands behind them, the corridor they were using was turned out to be the kind of subterranean path one would imagine for a secret passage under the pyramids or something like that.
  
  Luke wanted to believe they had not travelled to Egypt in one hour of walk, but alas with the Labyrinth, it was far from impossible: Daedalus' Zone Mortalis had not had any difficulty bringing two giant scorpions that Lou Ellen had burned with her fire balls or the ruined pillars where numerous Hieroglyphs were carved under a lot of dust.
  
  As for going back to the entrance, it was better not to think about it: the path had been twisting and changing when he took rearguard duties for a short moment. The only way to go was forwards.
  
  Their advance continued, and step after step, the sand disappeared, being replaced by a type of dark stone the son of Hermes had never seen before. On the walls a new mark appeared: a black hand below a black crown. Sometimes the hand was grabbing the kingly item, other times it was not touching it. The significance of the emblem escaped him.
  
  Finally, they left the tunnel to arrive on a sort of platform-bridge. For a single second, the oldest Demigod - if Nightshade wasn't included - wondered if they were out of the Labyrinth.
  
  It didn't last. They had just arrived on a belvedere where they could contemplate the immensity of the maze.
  
  They were, as he said, on sort of a belvedere-bridge. They were dozens of similar ones next to them, some of higher elevation, while others plunged below them. There were intact ones, and they were those which were damaged or in a worse state of disrepair.
  
  The bridges, however, were the least impressive part. Behind and ahead of them, immense walls of black and white stone towered over them. At the same time, the foundations of these constructions were lost in the abysses below. And on each of these constructions, there were thousands, maybe tens of thousands of opening, all of them offering paths to them. No matter where you looked, it was uncountable paths, tunnels, roads, and bridges...and nothing to help you make your choice save illegible carvings.
  
  "Gods," Dakota had stopped drinking his Kool-Aid flask at the sight, "this can't be the work of a single man!"
  
  "It isn't," Miranda Gardiner said. "It is sheer madness and-"
  
  A massive block of stone rose on their left, and soon the silence of the Labyrinth broke, replaced by thunderous sounds as pillars and entire sections of the Labyrinths rearranged themselves. The bridge they had stopped upon began to move, leaving them no choice but to cross the abyss as everything moved and trembled around them.
  
  Strike the Huntress.
  
  The first whisper he heard had the voice of Thalia.
  
  She is going to betray you like she betrayed all men. Kill her! Kill the Huntress!
  
  Several times he had to help Drew Tanaka as the daughter of Aphrodite stumbled on stones which exploded at their feet.
  
  Kill her, she is useless. Kill her!
  
  It felt like two hours when the Labyrinth stopped shaking, and Luke's lungs were burning when a halt was finally called.
  
  Compared to the previous scenery, it was not that impressive. Two-thirds of them went to sit in the middle of the new large bridge of white stone that was the entire infrastructure around them, cautiously not coming too close from the barrier-free edge. The dirty brown stagnant water below did not show anything threatening, but it was certainly not something you wanted to bet your life upon.
  
  "Damn," the son of Hephaestus coughed, "what was that?"
  
  "That, my friend," Jackson smiled, "was the Labyrinth greeting us."
  
  "You call that a greeting?" Annabeth shouted. "Are you mad?"
  
  "Tell me your Owlishness," because of course the green-eyed Demigod had to make owl jokes, "did you see pits filled with spikes and snakes open under your feet? Did you have to climb the cliff-walls with nothing but your hands and your courage? No? Then this was a friendly greeting."
  
  "But we walked in the good direction?" Clarisse La Rue asked, trying hard to not betray her exhaustion. Heavily armoured like she was, the race they had just done had not been easy for her...well, it hadn't been easy for anyone, but she was going to feel it in the days to come.
  
  "We are," the son of Poseidon said, seriously for once. "And as much as I'm sure you are all going to curse my name for this, we can't exactly rest for hours after a 'greeting' like this one. The itineraries' changes will have attracted the monsters and-"
  
  Scipio Varus' Zweihänder was out of its scabbard and struck viciously at the son of Poseidon.
  
  Luke had not the time to shout a single word of warning, and he was sure the younger black-haired Demigod hadn't seen his coming. The huge blade went for his throat...and stopped.
  
  A sound of pain escaped the Roman killer's lips before becoming an outright scream of agony. The ring he wore on one of his left hand's fingers began to shine in a weird pink light.
  
  "ARRRGGGH!"
  
  "Well, let's give the Olympians their due, they know how to choose their pet assassins," Perseus Jackson didn't draw one of his swords, instead he opened the bag offered by one of his gargoyles and grabbed a sandwich...that he proceeded to start eating.
  
  "What have you done to me, Jackson?" the treacherous son of Vanus managed to articulate before screaming his pain again and the pink halo engulfed his entire hand.
  
  "What have I done?" the smirk was back, though the effect was not optimal with bread and food swallowed regularly. "Oh, I assure you, my deeds in this affair were really of little importance..."
  
  The ten other Questers looked at him with distrustful expressions, and for some a little bit of fear. No one rushed to the help of the seventeen-years-old Demigod on his knees, though Nightshade had an arrow ready and a fire ball was dancing in Blackstone's right hand.
  
  "Right, this is confession time, Scipio Varus. The ring I gave you after we fought the Myrmekes? It was not exactly a proof of my eternal friendship and it wasn't part of the Myrmekes' treasure...it was more a contingency plan in case you tried to kill me."
  
  "But..." Luke tried very hard not to grimace as the sound of bones snapping and being reshaped by magic echoed, and the boots of the ex-Legionnaire began to be torn from the inside. He failed. "But why would you do that if-"
  
  An idea burst at the forethought of his thoughts, and refused to disappear. But Annabeth was faster to speak than he.
  
  "You knew! You knew he volunteered for the Great Quest for the sole purpose of killing you."
  
  "I confess it is possible certain conversations led me to entertain certain doubts about the infamous Scipio Varus' loyalties," Perseus Jackson confessed, placing his hand above his heart - assuming he had one - and baring his teeth. Then the green-eyed boy sighed before marching towards Varus' affairs and rummaging in it. "Ah, here it is." The object seized was a classic roll the kind official messengers of Olympus used, the likes New Byzantium possessed by thousands in its archives. This one once unrolled however, had an eminently-recognisable thunder seal at the bottom of it.
  
  Hermes' wings, Zeus had posted a bounty on Jackson's head? If anything, their Labyrinth guide seemed to be massively displeased-
  
  "It is an outrage! Only three million Drachmas are offered for my head? What kind of divine system is enforced? This is a scandal! So many stores and reserves I have pillaged and ransacked, and I am worth only three million? This is ridiculous! I am going to-"
  
  "Send a message to Olympus to increase the bounty?" Lou Ellen asked sweetly, doing her best not to laugh at the disappointed face of the son of Poseidon. "No offence Jackson, but it isn't exactly something the message one sends to Olympus unless you are tired of living."
  
  "You will have to bear the weight of this torment," Drew Tanaka approved, for once her former behaviour returning. "But I don't understand why you accepted him for the Great Quest if you already knew he was going to betray you no matter what."
  
  "We had not exactly a surplus of volunteers, Darcy," the son of Poseidon made the incriminating document disappear into one of his pockets. "And if you take care of the less-than-capable assassins, how are you supposed to be betrayed in the first place?"
  
  It wasn't the argument of a sane soul, but Luke didn't know why he had expected something else...
  
  "My name is not Daisy, and mark my words-"
  
  Scipio Varus screamed once more and everyone stopped talking or trying to give his opinion to the son of Poseidon.
  
  "Ah, now it truly begins."
  
  There was something truly...horrifyingly funny about seeing one of the most dangerous Roman swordsmen of their home lose its humanity. It shouldn't be, but it was.
  
  First the tail came out, with a sound so ridiculous everyone chuckled or nearly died of hilarity. Then the clothes exploded, and where the clothes were no more, the Questers saw what Scipio Varus was cursed by the ring that he was still trying to remove from his finger.
  
  He was becoming a crocodile. A very scaly, and threatening reptile no doubt, but the detail which was too much for him and the other Questers was that it was a pink crocodile.
  
  Human fingers were replaced by pink paws. The human nose receded before a mighty pink snout came into existence. The back was now far tougher than even Demigod skin...and also a very, very bright pink, not to say anything about the belly.
  
  "Scipio Varus," Perseus Jackson announced, and the former human writhing under the pain of transformation, "by the powers not granted to me by the Senate of New Constantinople, I formally declare your participation in this Great Quest over. Instead, it is my greatest pleasure to formally assign you to the newly-created Legio Crocodilus, where you will take the rank of Roseus Centurion!"
  
  By that point, in hindsight, it was a good thing the Labyrinth had decided to leave them alone, because they were laughing so hard it would be difficult to mount even a minor defence against something threatening.
  
  "Now for the bad news, my new eternal reptilian friend," the green-eyed Demigod once more took a sorrowful expression. "You were like a brother to me, Scipio, and for all my patience...of crocodile...I can't find in me the strength to pardon you. I may consider a financial support of your young siblings - if you have any - until they come of age, but you will not receive the two million Drachmas promised, your share of the loot is forfeited, and your name will be forever synonym of improper assault on my glorious person."
  
  There was no sorrow anymore on Jackson's face as his monologue ended. There was just a very, very sadistic smile, and Luke Castellan shivered, for between the pink crocodile and the human facing each other, it wasn't difficult to realise who was the most dangerous of the two.
  
  Something confirmed a second later, as the brown erupted and in act of macro-hydrokinesis the like no one had tried in decades, grabbed the now transformed Scipio Varus by the neck.
  
  "This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost killed Perseus Jackson, saurian!" The insane Demigod bared his teeth. "Now remove yourself from my presence, I have a sudden urge to make myself a scaly handbag!"
  
  The crocodile the twelfth Quester had become was thrown away by the water like he was nothing but a toy, and Varus - or what was left of him after the enchantment transformed him - took the threat seriously, for he didn't return during the next minutes.
  
  "This is the last we've seen of him, mark my words!"
  
  Drew, like the other Questers, had pretty much been torn between cheering and screaming when Varus was transformed into a pink crocodile.
  
  And no, the daughter of Aphrodite wasn't going to deny that for a few hours, she had really believed Jackson was indeed capable of accomplishing the Great Quest on his own. The son of Poseidon was playing them like a chessmaster, having tried the same with her half-brothers and half-sisters, the white-armoured Demigoddess could recognise an expert at work. Perseus Jackson had taken the leadership from Luke Castellan without a word of anger, increased Clarisse's levels of aggressiveness such that the daughter of Ares was a juggernaut of rage and fury, and manipulated each of the Questers into accomplishing the role he wanted them to play.
  
  Everything they faced, external or internal to their Quest's group, the green-eyed mad boy appeared to have anticipated it.
  
  Until now.
  
  Now, they were in front of a gigantic citadel, whose walls had to be forty metres-high at the very least. Drew wasn't a child of Hecate, but the numerous inscriptions carved near the top of this massive curtain wall had to be magical protections, and the automaton-ballistae positioned above them on the rampart's walkway looked superior models to the things the Roman Legions used as fixed positions to defend the city.
  
  As it wasn't enough, there were two moats to cross before reaching the base of this impossible citadel which could have not been found anywhere but in a Zone Mortalis. And they weren't filled by monsters or water, but with a sort of orange-coloured acid. Drew had never seen before, but Luke Castellan had, and his grim expression said everything there was to know.
  
  "That's a big fortress," Jake Mason said, in another one of his splendid understatements. "Who owns it, Jackson?"
  
  "You don't recognise the banner?"
  
  Drew stared at the immense flag atop the rampart, a black hand below a black crown.
  
  "No, we don't," Nightshade said frostily. "Should we?"
  
  "Perhaps not," the boy who had defeated Scipio Varus admitted, "it has been a while since the colours of the immortal sorceress were hoisted anywhere."
  
  "Circe?" The Huntress' voice was contemptuous. "Do not be ridiculous, Jackson. Her base of operations is in the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "I apologise for my poorly chosen words," the son of Poseidon made a gesture which wasn't exactly to be treated as a reasonable apology. "The other immortal sorceress. Also known as Asterius' mother, wife of King Minos, daughter of Helios-"
  
  "Pasiphaë," snarled the millennia-old bitch who had sworn to forsake love and everything good in one's life. "What is she doing here?"
  
  "At a guess," Perseus Jackson feigned to inspect his fingers. "Settling her accounts with Daedalus. Her sigil was everywhere in the sections we walked through, the logical assumption would be to assume she's making a power play while the Gods aren't watching."
  
  "We must stop her!" Chase barked, her Daedalus-worship evident to everyone. "If she gains power over the Labyrinth..."
  
  "The maze will still be as murder-happy," Miranda Gardiner finished. "Maybe she will be a bit friendlier where nature is concerned than Daedalus? It isn't really possible to do worse..."
  
  For a few minutes, everyone wanted to give his opinion, and with neither Castellan nor Jackson interested in stopping them, everyone did...which provided exactly nothing to the issue of the fortress itself.
  
  "Naughty, naughty," the insane Demigod finally stopped his observation of the dark walls while he rummaged in his back. "If you have said everything weighting down your hearts, it's time to begin the assault of this fortress."
  
  "Jackson, I recognise your madness kept us alive for the first traps and obstacles of the Labyrinth, but even you can't break these defences," Jake Mason started. "Maybe if the moats were filled with water, you could use your hydrokinesis to sap the foundations, but as it stands, the magic imbued in the walls is certainly making sure this acid will have no effect no matter what you try with it."
  
  "It's true," astonishingly, Perseus immediately agreed with the scarred son of Hephaestus. "That's why someone else is going to deal with this fortress."
  
  And he walked...towards her. What sort of madness had the black-haired boy in mind now?
  
  "I don't have the power to Charmspeak a fortress into opening its gates, Jackson!"
  
  "Of course not, Destiny!" the infuriating Demigod approved. "But you are attending Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted, aren't you?"
  
  That abrupt change of subject, well...she hadn't seen coming at all.
  
  "I am. What of it?"
  
  And to her astonishment - again - the daughter of Aphrodite saw the bastard summon her freaking school reports out of his bag!
  
  "How did you? Chiron! You stole the records the school sends to Chiron!"
  
  "Stealing is such an ugly word," the accused raised a finger like he was in position to do good things instead of practising grand robbery on a divine scale. "I simply borrowed all these fascinating documents. It wasn't hard, most of your fellows aren't able to leave New Byzantium all year, but children of your mother are far too weak to register on the monsters' radar..."
  
  "Go to the point!" Drew spat, as her face burned in shame.
  
  "Well, it has come to my attention you had excellent grades in English, French, and Ancient Greek...and to my pleasant surprise, both in the written and oral exams. Something," the son of Poseidon smirked, "very few Demigods and Demigoddesses achieve, as our dyslexia screws everything in the written tests. Care to explain this academic miracle?"
  
  Suddenly, the long back-haired daughter of Aphrodite was very well aware she was the focus of all the Questers' attention.
  
  "I use Charmspeak on myself, in order to convince myself I do not suffer from dyslexia," Drew admitted.
  
  "Fascinating," and for once Jackson seemed completely sincere. "Absolutely fascinating! I admit my own efforts on the subject have only been partially successful."
  
  Wait, what?
  
  "Jackson, are you saying-" Luke seemed even more shocked than she was.
  
  "In Charmspeak, I am more relying on power and esoteric techniques," the mad boy admitted. "But the field is prodigiously huge, and I am still learning. Yes, Miss Drew Tanaka has learned something I am still trying to master perfectly," if anything the fact Jackson used her real name was an even bigger shock...
  
  A spell book was placed in her hands.
  
  "I may be able to read the text, but I won't be able to cast it."
  
  The son of Poseidon sighed heavily.
  
  "There is a reason I invited a sorceress to be involved in this Quest. Do you know that if you Charmspeak some magic to a Child of Hecate, a sort of eidetic memory will be activated in her head?"
  
  By the way Lou Ellen Blackstone was gaping with the other Questers, even she wasn't aware of that.
  
  "You are going to Charmspeak the spell on page thirteen to our sorceress while I make the other preparations required for magic to strike at the correct spot. Then she will cast it and this fortress will fall."
  
  "Just like that?" Zoë Nightshade was unsurprisingly unconvinced.
  
  "Just like that," the boy who seemed to thrive on making her miserable replied.
  
  Drew opened the spell book to page thirteen, and grimaced as she read the Ancient Greek word.
  
  Hellfire
  
  Jackson was too dangerous to be allowed to live.
  
  Zoë had known it before this Quest began, but the senior lieutenant of Artemis was forced to admit she had underestimated how much this traitor was a danger to Olympus.
  
  His raids, his robberies, his challenges to her Goddess marked him for death, but the millennia-old Huntress had thought that at the first sign of falsehood, the Demigod and Demigoddesses, especially the Demigoddesses would turn upon him.
  
  It hadn't happened. And when at last Scipio Varus had attempted to kill him, it was not for a perceived betrayal, but because the man had accepted the Great Quest to claim a bounty of Lord Zeus.
  
  It was extremely dissatisfying, because for all the idea of cooperating with such an assassin gave her nausea, Zoë had a potential ally...only no one had informed her Goddess of that, and as a result a priceless opportunity had been lost...maybe. Jackson had seen it coming, and Varus was transformed into something more adequate to reflect the state of his soul.
  
  The Huntress commander could have appreciated it...if the artefact used wasn't one of those he had stolen from one of Lady Artemis' private stashes!
  
  For that crime alone, Perseus Jackson would die.
  
  The problem, unfortunately, was that his long and painful demise wouldn't erase the corruption the treacherous son of Poseidon inflicted upon the Questers. The daughter of Ares had been a lost cause from the start, the blood spear given to her and the natural pig-stubbornness of the children of the War God made sure of that. But seriously, who cared about her?
  
  No, the problem was the contagiousness of it. As the daughter of Aphrodite stopped whispering forbidden words into the ears of the blonde-haired daughter of Hecate, the two girls had the kind of hungry looks in their eyes which told Zoë that Jackson had corrupted them.
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone had tasted forbidden knowledge, there wasn't any doubt in her mind about it, and now the black-eyed Demigoddess would want more. It was always like that with children of Hecate, and the senior member of the Hunt was among the souls who knew this particular breed of magic-practitioners was never to gain access to specific lore.
  
  Circe, Medea, and Pasiphaë; after these three sorceresses gained the power they did, no one loyal to Olympus wanted to have a fourth headache to deal with on a permanent basis. This was regrettable, but this daughter of Hecate was going to die, and so was Drew Tanaka. Zoë Nightshade didn't believe for a single second the daughter of Aphrodite hadn't memorised the content she'd read to the other Demigoddess; if allowed to return to New Byzantium, she would make sure the children of Hecate bought that knowledge from her...exactly as Jackson intended.
  
  This was four Questers marked to death, and none of them could be relied upon to turn against her target. Damn you, Perseus Jackson. Damn you and may you burn in the most dreadful pits of Tartarus...
  
  Zoë didn't think she loathed Jackson more than him, but the more the infuriating Demigod acted and spoke, the more this nearly-impossible level of animosity was not so far in the distance.
  
  "I beseech you, the dagger under the earth, the flames which burns eternally under the ashes, the power of the dark sun only the undead will see..." Lou Ellen Blackstone began to incant, and immediately what little light the Labyrinth gave seemed to flicker and die.
  
  What in the name of Artemis was that incantation?
  
  "Chase," she told the daughter of Athena, "we have to intervene."
  
  The promising girl seemed hesitant, but after a second nodded.
  
  "Fine, we will-"
  
  "You will stay where you are, and you will not interrupt the spell," Jackson whispered as he jumped before them. "Thank you, dear ladies."
  
  Horror spread in her thoughts and soul, as she realised the traitor had immobilised and silenced them!
  
  She was going to kill him! She was going to-
  
  "And you won't use your bow either," the son of Poseidon said in the same Charmspeak tone. "Seriously, do you really want me to cut your throat, my dear Huntress?"
  
  "Artemis will kill you on the spot if you shed a drop of my blood!"
  
  "She will," the green-eyed betrayer continued to smile. "But as one of my treacherous advisors and a Goddess reminded me, my future tragic doom would not resurrect you. And given that between us two, I am the one who have angered the Lord of the Underworld the less, I would have a powerful incentive to avoid death, if I was in your shoes. Now be quiet, and do not act against me, or I will find something humiliating for you to do."
  
  "I bury the light in its grave," the incantation of the daughter of Hecate grew more frenetic, "and I deny the will of creation. The earth and the water are subjugated, the air is extinguished, the fire is sublimated! Open the gates of those who wait below, join strength, and illuminate the world with the flames of negation! HELLFIRE!"
  
  At this moment, Zoë knew she had waited far too long to kill Perseus Jackson. No matter what happened now, she waited for too long...
  
  The black flames were summoned, and in less time it took to say it, they vaporised in colossal clouds of evil smoke the acid-filled moats. Then the ramparts were struck.
  
  The magical defences, possibly built by an immortal sorceress, shone and poured unnatural resistance into the stones, but it wasn't enough.
  
  The storm of black flames became a hurricane of death and damnation. The base of the walls wasn't hammered or damaged; it was devoured.
  
  The Hellfire was eating the stones, the magic...it was eating everything. It was worse than the alchemical Greek fire, and the Byzantine product was already one of the worst inventions of the Demigods, something only the males could aspire to: destruction for the sake of destruction.
  
  The ramparts and the walls didn't resist. The ballistae fired and fired at the Hellfire, but it was useless. Section after section of wall crumbled, before finally losing all cohesion and collapsing.
  
  The black flames stopped from the hands of the daughter of Hecate, but the ravages of the cursed magic didn't end. The black fire was something abominable, and continued to eat what it had been offered by pure malice.
  
  It took far too long for the last inferno to die down. But when it did, there was a gigantic breach in the defences of the citadel...though could one call it a breach when most of the walls were nowhere in sight anymore?
  
  One spell. Lou Ellen Blackstone had pulverised one of the Labyrinth's fortresses on her own, with no direct support save spell-learning!
  
  "Excellent work, elite sorceress!" the infuriating traitor congratulated the daughter of Hecate. "Now do not cast more spells until you feel rested, we are going to finish the assault on our own. DOGS OF OLYMPUS! DO YOU TO BE ENSLAVED FOREVER?"
  
  Zoë Nightshade swore she was going to castrate Perseus Jackson, even if it was the last thing she ever did...
  
  Pasiphaë had known there would be an inimical reaction from her attempt to bind the Labyrinth to her will.
  
  Her mother had disagreed. All her contacts, immortals or others, had affirmed the power of the prophecies was no longer in Olympian's hands, and without these miracles in word form, Zeus was blinder than an old bat. Her own spies confirmed the Greek Questers and the Roman Legions had no idea what her plans were.
  
  Nonetheless, she hadn't relied upon luck once she had finally been able to capture 'Quintus', aka the new automaton containing Daedalus' soul. Since the massive ritual left her immortal body terribly vulnerable, her influence on the Labyrinth had been used to build a well-defended fortress. To these tall walls, the daughter of Helios' wealth and prestige had brought many mercenaries, monsters or of another nature, to her banner.
  
  Today proved she was definitely right on expecting an enemy attack. Except this time, it wasn't prophecies who had summoned the opposition. It was Daedalus himself. It had taken her a lot of time to realise it, but the old tinkerer had used her own ritual to call for help.
  
  By the time she had put an end to his defiance many monsters and automatons had been either defeated or converted to her cause. Her fortress had endured without difficulty these assaults, meaning this was not the real challenge.
  
  The Queen of Crete would have preferred being wrong. The alerts had barely the time to scream before Hellfire destroyed the fortress and burned a third of her forces to nothing in the blink of an eye.
  
  Now there was nothing to do but wait and continue the ritual, and pray the last of her supporters could stop the assault, or at least stalemate it for several hours, the time for her to complete the long ritual and become the new Goddess of the Labyrinth.
  
  Given how fast the attacking force of Demigods was progressing, her confidence was not what it was before the walls broke.
  
  "I told you neither Athena nor any other God worthy of the name would tolerate your ritual," the creature she refused to call anything but Daedalus in public chuckled loudly in his cage. "I'm surprised you aren't fleeing, your Majesty."
  
  "Unlike someone whose first reaction to anything is to flee, I am not a coward, son of Athena. I have invested decades of effort and resources in this ritual. I am not going to run until I am certain my ritual can be completed. Besides," the black-eyed daughter of Hecate bared her teeth, "I am a bit curious to know where those Demigods are coming from. There was no Quest announced when I began this ritual ten days ago, and I am certain my spies would have warned me if I was the target of one or if someone decided to search for adventure and death in the Labyrinth."
  
  And yet they were here, as the utter ruin visited upon her assets proved beyond any ability to ignore.
  
  "So you say," the inventor her imbecile of husband had hired and tolerated the eccentricities of answered, "but I think fleeing at least guarantees survival, and given the power these heroes have brought, your demise might be closer than you think. How long do you think a thousand skeletons are going to last after so many traps and illusions destroyed without a single casualty?"
  
  "Dead or alive," a voice shouted in the distance. "They are in MY service!"
  
  Pasiphaë winced as the small army of skeletons began to tear itself apart as the spell supposed to prevent enemy mind-control failed like they'd been bronze-grade material.
  
  "I hate heroes," less than she hated Daedalus, Minos, and Zeus, but there was some hatred in her heart for them too.
  
  The end was not long in coming. By ones and twos they arrived in the Cretan temple where she was officiating, and Pasiphaë gritted her teeth as she had the confirmation the eleven enemies who had destroyed her walls were still exactly of equal strength. Not one of them looked wounded or especially exhausted. It was...maddening.
  
  "Quintus, my friend!" the black-haired hero was the first to step forwards. "Our paths meet again! Thank you for the Lesser String, it works exactly as advised!"
  
  "My pleasure," Daedalus beamed, "if you could-"
  
  "My Lady Pasiphaë!" Surprisingly, the tinkerer was ignored the next instant, and by the way his mouth was gaping, this wasn't part of his plan. "The rumours about your beauty and your ambition weren't doing you any justice! I am very tempted to swear eternal friendship to you!"
  
  The heroine behind him, one bearing armour and clothes of a Huntress, had arrow and hand in her hands before the last word was out...and received the hilt of a sword in her neck for her troubles.
  
  "Thank you, my treacherous lieutenant." The Demigod had this look in eyes...one she hadn't seen quite often in the last millennia. Mad. The boy was mad, but he had sufficiently control over his insanity to be a lethal threat to whoever he was directed against.
  
  "I am indeed Queen Pasiphaë of Crete. What brings you to my domain in the heart of the Labyrinth, heroes?"
  
  Perseus Jackson had promised leaving with him would be necessary to avoid mediocrity.
  
  He certainly delivered on that promise.
  
  Lou Ellen felt her body sing in power, and she almost couldn't believe, despite the overwhelming evidence, that she had truly cast Hellfire and destroyed an entire set of fortifications.
  
  And now they were facing one of her legendary half-sisters, Pasiphaë, immortal sorceress and nearly-mythical figure of the Greek pantheon.
  
  Of course, she wasn't alone. There were a considerable number of enthralled hoplites leaning against the walls. Two cages were also taking the centre stage next to the Queen's throne, one containing the man Jackson had called 'Quintus' and the other had a big Hellhound inside it. A miniature storm of black-coloured magic was swirling over the golden altar, before discharging itself at irregular intervals in Pasiphaë's body.
  
  The air was overcharged with magic, and it was amazing.
  
  "For those who have not followed the story until now," the son of Poseidon began like he was speaking to a large audience. "Quintus is in reality an automaton who serves as a soul-anchor for a famous son of Athena. His real name is Daedalus, inventor of the Labyrinth, chief architect of King Minos and Queen Pasiphaë...I believe he also has a rather large bounty on his head, courtesy of your mother, Annie."
  
  "The sorceress' is larger," 'Quintus' called out from his cage. "Please you have to stop her, she's stealing the life-force I used to create the Labyrinth! She is-"
  
  "She is accomplishing a ritual of usurpation, I know." Perseus said in a tone which had its fair share of admiration.
  
  "Demigod," her half-sister spoke, "you do not know-"
  
  "To accomplish something like this, three is the most stable combination which exists. Judging by the Greek letters and the wards you carved around the altar, I think you went with a claim, a story, and a weapon."
  
  The immortal sorceress was silent for a second before a light of interest was lit in her eyes.
  
  "Continue."
  
  "The claim, I hypothesize, is that you paid for the Labyrinth in the first place. In the myths, Daedalus is rather infamous for being constantly on the verge of financial ruin. And since your defunct and unlamented husband was not exactly renowned for being farsighted, I can only guess it was you, your Immortal Majesty, who oversaw the construction of such a massive maze. In addition, it was your son, my muscular lieutenant Asterius, who was first imprisoned in it. That makes for a quite solid claim."
  
  "A claim which has no value because I was imprisoned there next!" Daedalus intervened.
  
  "Silence, the owl-spawn, the young and beautiful generation is speaking," Jackson countered, not using his Charmspeak. "Where was I? Ah yes, so that makes an excellent claim, your Divine Darkness. The story isn't difficult to imagine. The Olympians aren't fond of sorceresses they can't control. Ladies Circe and Medea, with different outcomes, had to suffer the wrath of the Council. A daughter of Hecate forced to take refuge in the maze which had been supposed to be her son's makes for a powerful story. As for the weapon..."the green-eyed Demigod shrugged, "obviously it is magic. The rest is only a question of resources, preparation, and execution."
  
  Pasiphaë, Queen of Crete, laughed. The sound resonated like a powerful symphony, magic given proper sound, and as she laughed her appearance changed. Her dress went from gold to black, and her black hair, pined into a cone with diamonds and emeralds, began to turn the very colour of the night itself, like they were absorbing the light, much like her Hellfire.
  
  Similarly, her eyes were stunning obsidian stones. She was beautiful in a way no mortal could comprehend. And Lou Ellen felt her heart beat faster, because in many aspects, this was why every children of Hecate aspired to be: magically powerful enough the Gods were afraid of her.
  
  "You seemed to have discovered by yourself excellent lore on the mechanics of these rituals," Pasiphaë approved. "And you know why I am doing it."
  
  "The Labyrinth's only limits are its necessity to stay clear of the boundaries of the Ocean and the Underworld," Perseus affirmed. "Both of them can destroy the Labyrinth's encroachment when and how they want. But by expanding right under the surface, you can dominate and rule over a realm potentially equal to the lands of mankind, especially if you have a certain Primogenitor's blessing. And since Olympus' sending armies of Demigods in the Labyrinth is as ridiculous as the Master of Olympus becoming a faithful husband, securing your apotheosis with the Labyrinth is quite a good idea. Of course, you have to complete said ritual."
  
  "Is that a threat, son of Poseidon? Don't look surprised, you are the very picture of your father when he's taking a youthful form."
  
  "Merely telling the truth, your Dark Glorious Majesty," Perseus seemed unfazed by the underlying threat. "As it stands, our choices led us to your domain just in time to make a choice between you and Daedalus."
  
  This was too much for Annabeth Chase. The daughter of Athena, made desperate as the ritual poured more power into her half-sister's body, charged ahead and tried to break his cage as she shouted a powerful war-cry.
  
  Once, twice, thrice, her long knife struck the golden cage. There wasn't a sign of damage...in despair, the next target was Pasiphaë herself.
  
  This was her last mistake. The daughter of Helios raised a finger, and several ropes were conjured from nowhere, tying the hands of the Demigoddess behind her, before binding her feet two. In less time than it took to say it, Annabeth was on her knees and completely helpless.
  
  "Another child of Athena..." the immortal sorceress looked at Chase with an air of pity. "Your kind has always great potential in Mystiokinesis, but your arrogance always leads you to ignore it. You try to build wonders without magic rather than alongside it."
  
  "I won't let you kill Daedalus!"
  
  "Kill him?" Pasiphaë raised an eyebrow. "I never had an intention to kill him. Though given that I intend to expel him from my Labyrinth the moment this ritual is successful, I don't think poor Daedalus' life will be long. His mother wants to have a serious conversation with him, I believe. He slain his nephew, and she has never forgiven him."
  
  A hand was raised and black-coloured magic shone in her left hand.
  
  "But you should worry more about what is going to happen to you."
  
  "If it is nothing to you, your Majesty, I would humbly request you do not kill her," Perseus bowed. "Unlike Daedalus, her mother is still fond of this one, and I would prefer not have to explain to Olympus while I stood idle when you killed her."
  
  "A good point," the legendary daughter of Hecate conceded. "But she will be punished for her insolence."
  
  An incantation was spoken, but it was in a language Lou Ellen didn't understand. The air around the blonde girl turned black and purple, before fading without any hint as what its purpose was.
  
  The outward effect was evident however: Annabeth Chase fell unconscious.
  
  "What have you done?" Luke asked, in a deeply worried voice.
  
  "Let just be said, that if the daughter of Athena isn't more respectful to her betters soon, her mother will try to strike her down personally to avoid another humiliation." Pasiphaë raised her eyes, and for the first time, their black eyes truly stared at each other. "Sister, join me."
  
  No one made a gesture to block her path, but Lou Ellen would have disposed of them nonetheless.
  
  The contact with the hands of her older half-sister was impossible to properly describe. The hands of the future Goddess managed to be incredibly warm, and yet this was a comfortable embrace.
  
  "I was beginning to lose faith there wouldn't be another of us this millennia."
  
  "Jackson helped me take the first step," Lou Ellen admitted.
  
  "That one and several others, sister," the midnight-haired sorceress whispered. "Any other time I would incinerate a man who dares manipulate one of my sisters in such a way...but he has made you into something beautiful and terrible, and for this I am thankful."
  
  A large spell book levitated to her from behind the throne.
  
  "What a pity. I have lamented at my failure to find a worthy Apprentice for hundreds of years, and now that I have one before me, my schedule is already filled for the next decades. This work, I hope, will be an adequate substitute for you. And when you want more...Circe is still thirsting for a worthy student."
  
  Her half-sister did not release her hands, but she addressed the son of Poseidon behind her.
  
  "Jackson."
  
  "Your Most Divine Glorious Majesty of the Labyrinth?"
  
  "I don't know if you are the luckier Demigod to be born or your madness throws you from victory to victory, but I forgive you for the destruction of my fortress. This amnesty lasts as long as you protect my sister from the Olympians' wrath. If she dies, I will make sure you follow her into the grave. Am I clear?"
  
  "Limpid, your Immortal Darkness."
  
  "Now tell me what you want to obtain in exchange of your non-interference in my ritual."
  
  "First, your Majesty, I desire a safe journey towards the silver-ebony Gate which allows one to enter the Underworld undetected."
  
  For the first time, the Queen of Crete showed a sign of contrariety.
  
  "I will try to give you one, but someone I don't trust has negotiated the loan of a domain next to this Gate. My power can protect you until there, but I won't be able to protect or support you against him."
  
  "We can deal with a trial before reaching the Hell Gate," Perseus Jackson assured her. "Next-"
  
  Quintus-Daedalus began to scream louder, as if he had finally realised no one was going to help him...or the ritual of the magic tore apart his automaton's insides, it could be one or the other, really.
  
  Lou Ellen didn't really feel happy for him. He had put himself in service of King Minos voluntarily, and the son of Zeus hadn't exactly the best reputation to go around.
  
  "Ah yes." Oh no, she didn't like at all the expression of the son of Poseidon. "If it's not bothering you, can I borrow the Hellhound?"
  
  Until this Quest started, Ethan had never seen the point about drinking the waters of the Lethe. Given how short a Demigod's life was, what was the point of erasing your memory when you were guaranteed to have too little memories of it when you held your last breath?
  
  "Who's a good dog? That's a good dog! Here's a good steak for you, adorable one!"
  
  That was before this Quest started. It was before Jackson decided to begin this Quest by an invasion of the Labyrinth. And it was days before realising the Minotaur was not an exception, but the rule, because the son of Poseidon had decided a freaking Hellhound was his new friend!
  
  "Was it absolutely necessary to do...that, Jackson?" The son of Nemesis had a monumental headache as they exited the ruins of the fortress built by Pasiphaë, and he had a feeling it was going to get worse.
  
  "Recruiting Zoë in the Suicide Squad? Of course it was!" Ethan was struck mute for a few heartbeats as he realised the mad boy had decided to name the massive Hellhound like the Huntress. When the lieutenant of Artemis was going to wake, she was going to be...err...volcanic rage might describe her mood.
  
  "No, not that," Ethan shook his head, trying to not think about this latest set of complications which proved Jackson thrived in the chaos he himself created. "Choosing the Queen's side over Daedalus'. It likely cost us the loyalty of Nightshade and Chase in the short and long-term."
  
  The black-haired Demigod of Barrack Sixteen wasn't going to sigh as the daughter of Athena's shield was now used as a goddamn Frisbee for the Hellhound, he wasn't going to place his head in his hands and mourn his lost innocence...
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant," the green-eyed maniac smiled before giving a few vigorous caresses to his new monster companion. "You have to think bigger and more clearly. First, the loyalty of Nightshade and Chase were never to this Quest or any member of this group, save perhaps to the son of Hermes for Angelina Coliseum. I estimate there's in nine out of ten possible scenarios, they would still try to kill me if we freed Daedalus and continued our interesting adventure. And in that complicated situation, they would gain our dear inventor's support to kill me. The old fool is ready to do anything to avoid his final punishment."
  
  Ethan winced. Jackson was insane, why was he in the habit of making such good points?
  
  "Then there is the problem of dealing with a sorceress in her bastion of power. Even vulnerable on the brink of apotheosis, the widow of the little dick," the son of Nemesis almost had a heart attack as he heard the new nickname of King Minos, "has enough magical power to ensure several of us would lie dead by the end of the battle. All we had to do to negotiate with her was to leave Daedalus where he was. A fight against the Queen of Crete would not have been my cup of juice, and I don't feel like fighting an unnecessary fight while the hellish challenges wait for us."
  
  This was a logical reasoning, by his standards. Of course, that left...
  
  "What about Olympus?"
  
  Jackson chuckled as he continued to play with 'Zoë'.
  
  "Daedalus lied, you know." The powerful - and mad - Demigod declared absently. "There is no official bounty on Pasiphaë's head. At least two out of three of the legendary sorceresses are the favourites of Hecate, and since sending Demigods against them would anger her, there are no official Quests to slay them. In fact, killing one is a sure way to anger the Goddess of Magic. And I would lose the loyalty of Lou Ellen, something I care far more than the Huntress' and Annie's. I hope you won't disagree with me when I say our prodigal sorceress is far more useful than the two of them put together."
  
  Before the daughter of Hecate had destroyed half of a fortress by herself, Ethan would have said no. After it, he couldn't argue against it...Jackson, as usual, had unleashed his madness at the critical moment to sway everyone's opinion.
  
  "Still..."
  
  "The new Queen of the Labyrinth has promised to release in our coffers part of the bounty for Daedalus, but even if she hadn't, the fact is fighting this immortal sorceress would have gained us nothing, since there is no bounty on her, and cost us an enormous amount of lost time, between our own casualties and the time we would take to heal them. We have no dedicated healer, I will remind you, my treacherous lieutenant."
  
  Yes, the absence of a son of Asclepius or a son of Apollo was really a major drawback.
  
  "If the Gods want to fight Pasiphaë," Perseus Jackson said, "they can order their own Quests and throw around a few million Drachmas, I am not their attack dog, and I do not work for free. And since Daedalus is an enemy of Her Owlishness, it can't be treason. After all, how can helping a criminal under the displeasure of one of the Olympian be a good thing?"
  
  After a few more tirades and monologues, Ethan could easily see the day where they would attack Mount Olympus...all the while protesting their eternal friendship and loyalty to the Gods, of course.
  
  "And the Labyrinth itself?"
  
  "Daedalus didn't rule it for as long as he was in control," the son of Poseidon's expression turned more sinister and calculating. "As much as I love exploring its depths and finding quantity of treasures with my legendary luck, having one Goddess to speak to when you want a short journey to your destination outweighs the previous status quo. I will remind you that with this new watch," it was more an enchanted item in the form of a sundial, honestly, "we now have the information that reaching this section of the Labyrinth took us ten days. I leave to your dark imagination, my treacherous lieutenant, how much time we would lose if we were forced to endure Daedalus ridiculous limitations."
  
  Soon, Jackson to find something else to throw to the Hellhound, because the shield was...a bit destroyed.
  
  "Do you really think you can do it, Jackson? Topple the Gods from their golden pedestals, teach them to respect us? I know Pasiphaë will likely be successful in claiming the Labyrinth, but she was nearly a Goddess, and Daedalus, for all his support of the existing situation, wasn't a God."
  
  "I believe we have a good chance," please ignore the 'good dog' sounds for several seconds, "of course, that's the point of this story, isn't it? Finding out if the genius of humanity can win against the indomitable power of the Masters of the World."
  
  Around them, the Labyrinth continued to change. The Questers nearby ate, drank, and rested. Finally after a few minutes, the Huntress of Artemis and the daughter of Athena began to return to consciousness. Evidently, when the former truly woke up, the murderous glare she had for Jackson was really, really impressive.
  
  Then the Huntress bitch realised the Hellhound was named after her, and there were plenty of outraged screams. If someone had supported her, the man-hating girl would have likely attacked, Quest or no Quest, and damn the consequences. But with five boys who loathed her guts - there were always rumours at camp about what the Huntresses loved to do to isolated Demigods when they declared them 'criminals' - and many girls not too fond of her, the servant of Olympus' will dared not make her move.
  
  At last, the other arrogant girl stirred. Castellan was immediately by her side.
  
  "Annabeth, are you okay?"
  
  Something bad formed in his gut as Ethan saw the dreamy face of the Demigoddess of Barrack Six. After being subjected to a spell of a powerful sorceress, anger or rage had to be the normal reaction, as much as it was trouble for him or for Jackson.
  
  "I am...I am feeling extraordinary!"
  
  Oh, no, no, no...
  
  "I have finally realised the truth!"
  
  This was going to suck; the son of Nemesis just saw it coming. Even the son of Hermes took two steps back and had a greatly worried expression.
  
  "What truth?"
  
  "I am a spider's soul, trapped in a human body!"
  
  Perseus Jackson cackled.
  
  In hindsight, maybe drowning in the Lethe was an acceptable end...
  
  Author's note: And so ends the first part of our intrepid adventurers in the Labyrinth. I hope everyone enjoyed it.
  
  The way about a Gate to Hell existing in the Labyrinth is perfectly possible as per canon, by the way. For those wonder, re-read the fourth book of canon, it was discussed here. Annabeth herself admits the likelihood is high, though obviously, knowing such an exit was created is one thing, reaching it is definitely another.
  
  And of course the Suicide Squad has lost its first Demigod. This was always going to be that sort of adventure...
  
  Next Chapter's title will be: Madness and Violence!
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Madness and Violence
  Chapter 5
  
  Madness and Violence
  
  The lack of oversight during the Quests was not and is still not something that has proven immune to critics for centuries. Assuredly, compared to the Legions of our Roman counterparts, we Questers do have a lot of leeway to complete the goals assigned to our goals. That said, we do not have giant eagles for communications, and it isn't unprecedented to stay in hostile territory for several days while potential reinforcements are weeks away.
  
  That's the theory, at least. In practise, Silver and Bronze-level Quests are done in lands which belong to a specific God or Goddess loyal to Olympus. While it is far from a guarantee of survival, the certainty is there Olympus will be informed one way or another of all your moves and deeds before you return to New Byzantium. Those who forget this fact and are far too loud-mouthed about insulting the name of the Gods tend to regret it in short order when they see their 'rewards' after completion of a Quest.
  
  The Gold-level Quests and the rare Great Quests are very different. They tend to involve places which are out of reach for divine sight, and unless communication is established with New Byzantium, it is extremely rare to be aware of the expedition's details before a single Quester return...if one returns. While many Romans and non-Romans have bemoaned this reality, the reality is that someone has to accomplish these Quests, and in general attempts to recruit 'overseers' for the adventure are terribly unsuccessful, since those who are sent to enforce the rules will be subjected to the same dangers the Questers will counter.
  
  Unusually, the Suicide Squad was sent to accomplish had such one overseer. Given the final result and what the survivors agreed to share to us for the writing of these chronicles, it isn't difficult to argue such supervision was at best counter-productive, at worse a complete disaster...
  
  Extract from the Chapter 3 of Chronicles of the Suicide Squad, by Malcolm Pace, son of Athena
  
  18 May 2006, the Labyrinth
  
  "I am a spider's soul, trapped in a human body!"
  
  A better man would have kept his dignity.
  
  Perseus acknowledged he wasn't that 'better man' deep inside before cackling.
  
  Oh Gods and Demons, that was priceless.
  
  He was really going to have to send a present to Pasiphaë once this Quest was over, because this was something he'd not seen coming...and the opportunities for jokes and comical situations were just infinite.
  
  Truly, the immortal sorceress didn't disappoint him. In this life, he had not thought a spell would be able to do that. In the life before that, there had been the case of Dread Emperor Tenebrous, of course.
  
  The man had begun his reign as a boring administrator and a great road builder - the Imperial Road system of the Dread Empire of Praes was his idea and no one else's. The chronicles of his reign alas didn't explain the succession of events which had led him to this, but Tenebrous had somehow begun to be convinced he was a giant spider in a man's body, and resolved to do something about it. The 'something' had been a massive ritual with its lot of corpses, blood, and unwilling sacrifices, and it had worked. Dread Emperor Sorcerous - or what was left of him now he was a gigantic arachnid - had escaped into the sewers of Ater, and his Chancellor had promptly passed a law it was illegal for a spider to claim the Tower before dying in the inevitable succession civil war.
  
  The most amusing thing in all this affair was that since there still was an overabundance of giant spiders during his own reign, there were believers in Praesi cities and elsewhere who believed Tenebrous had kept his intelligence and survived in the darkness, plotting and building himself an endless army of chitin, fangs, webs, and dangerous poisoned appendages to return to power. Alas, Kairos Theodosian had never stepped a foot in the Dread Empire, and thus couldn't ascertain the truth for certain, what a pity.
  
  But maybe Annabeth Chase would provide a worthwhile substitute to Dread Emperor Tenebrous?
  
  "Jackson! Stop this!"
  
  Ah, Zoë Nightshade was barking - no, he didn't speak about the Hellhound. How sadly predictable.
  
  But after a few seconds, the dreamy expression of the daughter of Annabeth vanished from her face and a light of horror appeared in her eyes.
  
  "What happened? What did I do?"
  
  "Relax, Alison," the green-eyed Demigod beamed, "you were just sharing with us your soul dreams, which apparently are to transform yourself into a giant spider to attune yourself to your real soul."
  
  "This isn't funny, Jackson!"
  
  "Much as it pains me to confirm something coming from his mouth," his treacherous lieutenant coughed, "you said exactly that. You pretended to be a spider in a human's body because you had seen the truth."
  
  "NO!"
  
  "Jackson, if it is another joke-"
  
  "My dear Huntress, I am willing to admit I dabble from time to time in sorcery and other magical arts," frankly he was doing more than that, but Perseus doubted the lieutenant of Artemis would react very well hearing the full scope of his 'dabbling'. "But I am not a master of mind-alteration spells. The head is something very fragile and can be easily shattered if you don't know what you're doing. I am not ready to attempt something like that," which was the truth...for one or two decades, at least. "When I want to make sure someone destroys his inhibitions and accepts his true self, I do it with words, not magic, Zara."
  
  The brown-haired daughter of Atlas growled but didn't attack...for now. Still, at the rhythm things were going, he was going to have to find a permanent solution. The longer this Quest went on, the likelier the possibility of Nightshade trying to kill him in a no-rules duel was.
  
  "Sorceress, oh my sorceress...please tell me what magic you sense in Audrey's head."
  
  Lou Ellen smiled before kneeling before the daughter of Athena, who was still trying to decide if she had to explode in anger or to cry.
  
  "I think it's a curse triggered by certain thoughts and actions taken by the victim," the blonde daughter of Hecate revealed after a couple of minutes. "The spell, after a short spike of activity, has gone dormant in her brain, most likely to spare its limited magical energy. I think one of the foundations used for its matrix is the power my half-sister is exerting through the Labyrinth. So if we are able to leave the Zone Mortalis without the curse digging itself in Chase's brain, everything should be fine."
  
  "And what is necessary to avoid the 'digging in one's brain part'?" Luke asked in a dark voice, which confirmed the son of Hermes didn't like at all this situation.
  
  The new practitioner of Hellfire rolled her shoulders and stood up.
  
  "She got herself cursed for being disrespectful to a sorceress," the black-eyed witch smirked. "I'm sure everyone has a few good thoughts about what will trigger the spell anew."
  
  "There's another way," the Huntress affirmed.
  
  "There is?" It was new to him, certainly.
  
  "We go back and kill the wife of Minos. Magic like that dies with its creator."
  
  "Hmm...no," Perseus shook his head. "I've made sweet, sweet bargains with Asterius' mother, and they are too profitable to go back on my word so quickly after swearing to her my eternal friendship."
  
  "This isn't a game, Jackson! Chase is at risk of believing her mind is those of a spider?"
  
  "So what? Everyone has his little quirks and eccentricities. In my youth, I believed for a few days I was destined to become a building-sized scorpion, and I've turned out perfectly fine..."
  
  Naturally, most of his precious Questers chose this moment to glare at him. Ah, well. It was the curse of the visionary to be surrounded by blind souls unable to advance further than their noses.
  
  "Anyway," he continued, "our sorceress expert can't cancel the curse," the daughter of Hecate nodded in approval, "and since it doesn't seem to hinder the fighting capabilities of Amy, we resume our journey to the gate which will allow us to enter the Underworld."
  
  "Jackson..."
  
  "My dear Zara Nellie," a pity there were so little names beginning by 'Z', "may I remind you that we are on a limited time schedule, and we have already lost ten days by the fault of Daedalus?"
  
  "By Pasiphaë's fault, you mean." Luke said.
  
  "Semantics, semantics," the ex-Tyrant dismissed the argument immediately. "I am sure Abby is going to be the definition of politeness and charm when we will face our next challenges," just saying it was going to urge the grey-eyed girl to do nothing of the sort, he knew, "and we still have a long road ahead of us. Let's continue this Great Quest!"
  
  He gave a last piece of meat to his new trustworthy Hellhound, before climbing on her.
  
  "Onwards intrepid heroes, I want to dine in Hell tonight!"
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  19 May 2006, the Labyrinth
  
  Eleven days ago - it felt a lot longer than that - twelve Demigods had left New Byzantium to partake in one of the most suicidal and insane Quests ever since World War II.
  
  The good part was that they were still alive and healthy, enough to continue the Quest. The bad part was that they were led by someone insane who made no secret he was here to fail to obey the commands of Olympus with a mad grin on his face.
  
  And let's not forget that while they were all still alive, Scipio Varus was transformed into a pink crocodile and had disappeared somewhere in the maze of the Labyrinth, after their fearless leader taunted Fate so much Dakota was still surprised the Roman saurian hadn't returned to exert his vengeance upon him.
  
  The replacement of the professional assassin? A Hellhound, a true Hellhound, that Perseus Jackson had promptly called Zoë for the sole purpose of irritating the Huntress. The son of Bacchus didn't blame her on this one. Whether you loved your first name or not, there weren't many people who loved having a person naming an animal with your identity when you were around to see it.
  
  Dakota wished this was the biggest internal problem of their group, but it would be a lie to say so. Far from forging some bonds of friendship, the destruction of Pasiphaë's fortress had left some heavy distrust between the duo Chase-Nightshade and practically all the others, since they hadn't attacked the immortal sorceress when they had the opportunity.
  
  To his great shame, the black-haired boy's sole excuse was that Jackson had been against it, and without the son of Poseidon's support, what was he supposed to do? Throw vines at the enemy? But where did you find some greenery in this world of stones, automatons, and rocks? Moreover, as a Legionnaire, the only training they received against magic was 'let our own wizards do their job and duck when the fireballs are flying'.
  
  "For now, the immortal sorceress appears to respect her part of the deal," he whispered to the son of Hermes as they crossed a massive bridge which would have respected the standards of the Legion. "The Labyrinth is leading us on a straight road, and there are few monsters."
  
  There also wasn't any strange voices plaguing his thoughts or whispering to him that one member of the Quest had to be murdered, but better to keep that under wraps.
  
  "For now," Luke Castellan grimaced before shaking his head. "But yes, so far the immortal sorceress has made our progression easier. I am just worried about what it's going to cost us if Olympus decides negotiations with Pasiphaë were too far past the red line, even for a Great Quest."
  
  "I'm worried too," the blue-eyed son of Bacchus admitted out loud. "Especially since Jackson is going to parade on his pet Hellhound if both survives the Underworld."
  
  "That is going to be a big problem," the blonde Quester confirmed in a manner that was likely a considerable understatement. "Correct me if I'm wrong, McDonald, but aren't the temples and the infrastructure we're passing by typically Roman?"
  
  "Err...yes?" He had not focused his attention upon it, but now that he examined his surroundings with a new eye, the theme was impossible to miss. "The Road is transforming into one of the High Empire's roads, I think. The ruins on our right have to be a temple to Mithra...I guess. And this is an unfinished aqueduct on our left. The building here looks like an incomplete warehouse where the grain and the salt were stored..."
  
  They entered a tunnel, and when they emerged from it, they once more were in a sort of immense cavern of a size as impressive as the one which contained Pasiphaë's tall defences. The only difference was that this time, it wasn't a tall fortress of dark stone waiting for them, but more those of a Roman limes, the rectangular towers, observation posts, stakes, and other recognisable items being used for the defences of New Constantinople's Barracks being replicated there.
  
  And as if it wasn't enough, over the gates of this fortified area, flew the symbol of an eagle holding in its talons the lightning bolt.
  
  "I wasn't aware there was a Legion deployed anywhere near the Labyrinth," the son of Hephaestus said cautiously.
  
  "There isn't," Luke replied curtly.
  
  "There isn't," Jackson echoed a couple of seconds later. "Legio Fulminata is defending your city. Legio Gemina, the Thirteen Legion, must be in California or somewhere near it. And Legio Gallica, Third Legion, is fighting monsters near New Orleans, I believe."
  
  "I'm not even going to ask how you know that when the majority of New Byzantium's Demigods have no idea about the Legion's deployments."
  
  "Good, then I won't have to lie shamelessly," the son of Bacchus was surprised the other boy knew the definition of shame in the first place.
  
  "There is something...wrong with the banners," Annabeth Chase intervened. "Are golden eagles on black flags ordinary heraldry for the Legions?"
  
  "No," Dakota recognised. "But then, whole Legions haven't entered the Labyrinth in the last four decades, of if they did, no one told me before I became a Quester." And as they continued to decrease the distance between them and the white walls of the Roman defences, it didn't get better, for several smaller flags could be seen, and they confirmed this wasn't an Olympus-loyal Legion playing the role of garrison.
  
  "Fifteenth Legion," Ethan Nakamura spoke for everyone. "McDonald?"
  
  Dakota grimaced.
  
  "Legio XV Primigenia. New Constantinople has never successfully reclaimed the eagle since Olympus is on this side of the Atlantic, and even if we had it, I think no Legate in his right mind would rebuild it."
  
  "Why? It was one of the Legions destroyed at the battle of Teutoburg Forest?"
  
  "No," the black-haired boy was prompt to answer. "It would have been better. You see, this Legion is rather infamous for the identity of the Emperor who created it."
  
  Just as he said the words, the gates opened and a torrent of cavaliers mounted on black horses surged forwards, followed by what had to be a cohort worth of true Legionnaires. Their equipment was rather standard for a unit inspired by the High Empire era, except the hundreds of armours were the colour of the night, with the only other colours being their golden cloaks and the golden eagle on their breastplate.
  
  The Legion banners flew the symbol of a golden man with a spear dancing on an orb representing the world, as expected.
  
  "It was nicknamed the Black Legion sometimes," Dakota didn't speak the words loudly, who knew who listened to him now? "Founded by Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, and loyal to him until its dissolution."
  
  "Gaius Julius Caesar what?" Drew Tanaka had obviously not caught the significance of the titles, though Chase and many others had.
  
  "You know him better as Caligula."
  
  "That's...okay, that's not good, but this Emperor is dead, right?" Lou Ellen Blackstone asked.
  
  "Trajan was also supposed to be dead, and yet he holds a position at camp," Jackson commented as the horse-mounted troops began to encircle them in a classical formation and point their spears in something that could be easily more than parade posturing.
  
  "Demigods! In the name of our beloved God-Emperor, your presence is requested at the Novus Circus Maximus!"
  
  Of course he wants...wait, God-Emperor? No, no, no...
  
  "In the spirit of eternal friendship that unites Questers and Legionnaires, we accept your generous invitation!" Even the black-armoured were surprised by Perseus Jackson's words. Poor Legionnaires, they weren't ready to handle the madness of the son of Poseidon...
  
  20 May 2006, Novus Circus Maximus, Roman Enclave, the Labyrinth
  
  To be clear, Luke hadn't really needed a lot of evidence by that point the Gods had completely screwed up with the Labyrinth. Leaving Pasiphaë able to claim the Labyrinth, Jackson or no Jackson, was something that felt like an awful mistake and something Ares or someone else should have cared about a millennium ago. But if he had really needed more convincing, the existence of the 'Novus Circus Maximus' would have created a lot of reasons to prove that whatever the Council of Olympus was, it definitely didn't extend to omniscience and all-knowing.
  
  It wasn't the megalomaniac drugged dream of the ghost of a Roman Emperor. There really was a gigantic stadium dedicated to chariot races to welcome them, and though Luke didn't know if it was as big as the original, the space for tens of thousands of spectators was definitely there.
  
  And these seats were used. This was the frightening issue. The public was definitely there, and no, it wasn't the ghosts of ancient Romans who were playing this role. It was normal humans, and they were not from the ancient Empire of Rome, the fact they wore modern-era clothes adapted to the current festivities proved that...some had watches, relatively recent necklaces, handbags, and purses amongst other things.
  
  Another...well, yes, another frightening issue was the number of Legionnaires Caligula had recruited for himself. Between the Cohort which had given them the 'invitation', the one waiting outside, and the one garrisoning the upper levels of the Circus Maximus, their leader had three Cohorts to enforce his will, and much as Luke wanted to believe this was a bluff, he couldn't remove the idea from his head seven others waited to be summoned.
  
  And there were new Legionnaires in purple and black armour, the Praetorian Guard, no doubt. In addition to them, the longer they advanced towards the Imperial Lodge, the more they were animal and human-like automatons, all armed for war.
  
  Irrespective of their quality, this was a lot of firepower...and this was just what they were allowed to see. Luke wasn't Athena, but he had enough strategic sense you didn't show all your surprises to complete foreigners you had no reason to trust.
  
  And then the crowd rose like a single man to greet their Lord and Master.
  
  "AVE NEO HELIOS! AVE NEO SELENE!"
  
  "AVE!"
  
  The last steps were stressful. All the Questers were uncomfortably aware that, surrounding by enemies as they were, they would be no escape if they had to fight their way out. And judging how ecstatic the crowd was, these unarmed civilians weren't going to be of any help, quite the contrary. It was not improbable they would be human shields for the true threats.
  
  It was worrying in the extreme, at the risk of repeating himself. But as the last hundreds of bodies parted to let them access the seats and extremely decadent lodge, Luke realised they had a new problem - again.
  
  The man and the woman facing them were evidently siblings. They didn't look like monsters, as the written testimonies of the High Empire insisted upon. But they were definitely shining with divine power.
  
  It should be impossible. Caligula was deified after his death, yes, but without the support of Olympus, he shouldn't have had a tenth of the power shown by the members of Triumvirate Holdings. And yet he was shrouded in golden power, while the woman next to him was gleaming with an aura of moonlight.
  
  "You stand before the God-Emperor Neo Helios," the white horse with golden horseshoes spoke. "Kneel."
  
  "Oh that's a nice attempt at ventriloquism!" because of course Perseus Jackson had stayed quiet for ten minutes, and it was likely too long for him. "Again, you Divine Majesty!"
  
  "It is not ventriloquism!" the horse seethed. "I am capable of speaking six human languages!"
  
  "You realise it is exactly what someone with ventriloquist abilities would say, right?"
  
  "Kill him!"
  
  The next second, the horse received Jackson's sword in his mouth.
  
  The noises of the crowd instantly went down to nothing.
  
  "Son of Poseidon..." the Roman Emperor had definitely calculating blue eyes which gave a hint the accusations of tyranny were not so far-fetched. "You have just killed the Senator Incitatus."
  
  "In my humble opinion," the mad boy grinned, "you committed a cardinal mistake naming him to such a powerful position. He wasn't able to keep his calm when I complimented you for your ventriloquist talents. He resorted to violence while he was within reach of my sword. These are not good traits for a man...pardon for a horse of great power to have. Fortunately, I am here now, and I humbly submit my candidature to occupy the functions he formerly exerted in your service."
  
  "Candidature declined," the blonde-haired Emperor refused. "I have heard about your recent exploits, Perseus Jackson, and I do not desire sharing the fate of those who thought themselves capable of outsmarting you. And while Incitatus' failings were many..." servants dragged the horse's lifeless body away, "if you kill someone else without my express permission, I will sentence you to death by the pyre."
  
  The man history remembered as Caligula turned towards them.
  
  "I was told twelve departed from New Constantinople, but only eleven Questers...and one Hellhound...stand before me. What happened to Scipio Varus?"
  
  "Your Imperial Majesty," Luke began, "whatever you were told-"
  
  "-is perfectly accurate, I pay my spies in your city very well," the Emperor grabbed an apple from a small mountain of fruits and began to eat it without ceremony. "Let's dispense with the pretences, Luke Castellan. I know your identities, and I know the Great Quest you were given by the Master of Olympus. Pasiphaë's network has blind spots, but I can assure you mine doesn't share them."
  
  The blonde-haired veteran of the Hesperides wanted to say a lot of things, but an accurate summation could be shorted down to a single word: shit. A bluff was possible, but in practise inexistent: he knew three of their names, and the reason they had departed New Byzantium.
  
  "So I repeat my question: where is Scipio Varus?"
  
  "Unfortunately," Perseus didn't waste any time, "he has decided to abandon the Quest and partake in his lifelong ambition: founding a legion of pink crocodiles."
  
  Many, many spectators laughed at the repartee. Even the master of the circus' lips twitched somewhat.
  
  "Who?"
  
  "The Master of Olympus, judging by the material evidence."
  
  "That doesn't surprise me," the blue-eyed woman next to Caligula spoke for the first time. Her voice was incredibly soft and musical, but there was no fragility in her stance. And much like her brother, her body was one which had been trained for physical hardship. "The man is known for taking the first tool which falls on his lap when he is enraged."
  
  There was a significant gust of divine wind, and Luke tried to not show his embarrassment, because he had suddenly realised that under their togas, Emperor Caligula and his sister wore absolutely nothing.
  
  "We should kill them, brother." The worst part was that there was little emotion in this female voice.
  
  "That would be a mistake," the son of Poseidon retorted.
  
  "Oh?" And just like that, Luke knew the Empress had committed the cardinal mistake of letting a certain Demigod speaking.
  
  "Your scheme to use mortal worshippers to accelerate your ascension is impressive your Divine Light, but it still doesn't give you the power to stand against the Lord of the Oceans and the Lord of the Sky. As long as your ritual isn't completed, Labyrinth or no Labyrinth, you are vulnerable. The Olympian twins will have no compunction tearing down the maze to reach and incinerate you. You represent an existential threat to their base of power, as you have made your claim to the thrones of the Titan of the Sun and the Titaness of the Moon."
  
  "Continue," the woman shrouded in moonlight power said, unwittingly repeating what had happened with the Queen of Crete before.
  
  "You have recruited the sorceress Medea for your scheme, only she has a sufficient connection to the faded Titans and the sorcerous knowledge to implement these ritual summoning pieces of faded glory from Below. Queen Pasiphaë didn't make a secret she didn't appreciate your presence, and the last sorceress is nowhere near the Labyrinth's entrances. Therefore it stands to reason that you, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, are aiming to usher your apotheosis as Neo Helios, a new deity which will unite the essence of both the God and the Titan of the Sun, while your beautiful sister Julia Drusilla will incarnate as Neo Selene, Goddess and Titaness of the Moon."
  
  Caligula slowly clasped his hand, and for a heartbeat, it was like a veil had been lifted, and Luke didn't seen a blonde man in his early twenties wearing a white toga, but a golden-skinned giant crowned with the symbols of power of the Sun. It wasn't a divine form...but there was divine power behind it.
  
  The claim, as Perseus had said, had been made, and there was sufficient power to back it. This was sheer folly...and yet it existed.
  
  "An excellent deduction, son of Poseidon. I see why the Olympian Council considers you a threat." The piercing blue eyes turned to stare at Lou Ellen Blackstone. "Yes, Medea has been involved in our recent activities, though her services are...extremely expensive. We are perfectly ready to find new sorceresses to subsidize once they have grown in the fullness of their power."
  
  "I won't say I will never work for you, Caesar, but I have other preoccupations and areas of interest for the short-term future," the daughter of Hecate replied politely. Luke tensed, but Caligula didn't seem to be offended.
  
  "Fair is fair," the Emperor shrugged, "and yes, as the son of Poseidon has spoken, we have begun our ascent to replace the current holders of the Sun and the Moon. The only thing that wasn't mentioned is that by law, I have made my incomparable sister the Caesarea of my Empire. No one else is worthy of the title."
  
  The son of Hermes wasn't blind, when those two stared in each other's eyes...it was love. But encircled by a lot of potential enemies, it would be a bit unwise to play the offended party.
  
  "This is treason against Olympus," surprisingly, it was Jake Mason, not Zoë Nightshade, who was the first to speak the potentially damning words.
  
  "This is treason against Olympus."
  
  But the explosion rage Ethan and most of the Praetorian Guard seemed to brace for didn't materialise.
  
  "It is," the Emperor presented a golden cup to his sister, and for all the old accusations against him that had proven false, the son of Nemesis acknowledged the incestuous one was most likely not exaggerated. "But, son of Hephaestus, you have to realise I didn't choose this path. I, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, was born mortal. I was a mere Legacy of Venus, unworthy to train with the great Demigods and Demigoddesses of the time. My father, while the Heir to Augustus, perished long before he could take the reins of Rome. My family suffered as political hostages for most of my life. Yet I never stopped praying the Gods, believing one day, our fortune would change. I prayed them and promised that should I ascend to the laurels of Caesar and Augustus, they would have no reason to regret their choice."
  
  The blonde man was gifted as an orator, no doubt about it. But unlike Jackson, he was evidently trying to hide his madness, and as a result, there was a...a shadow of falsehood over his monologue.
  
  "When I became Augustus, my promises were respected to the fullest. The sacrifices to the Gods were made in unprecedented and never-imitated numbers. I invited them to my parties. I dedicated them countless grandiose monuments. I praised them for every city and province added to my Empire. And do you know what their reaction was? They killed my sister."
  
  No son of Nemesis or Tyche could have uttered with more hate these four words.
  
  And Julia Drusilla, who was evidently the person mentioned, had stopped smiling and presented a stone-like expression.
  
  "It was a fever, the best practitioners of healing said," Caligula breathed loudly. "Idiots, all of them. By the time the desperate measures were clearly needed, even taking a miniscule part of Ambrosia wasn't enough to purge the disease of her body. My beloved sister died. And the night after I manifested my desire to deify her, I was visited by the Great God of Light, Music, and Diseases. He told me the Gods had heard of my projects, and urged me to reconsider." The visage continued to be charming, if you didn't count the nose too sharp or the ears too big, but the Emperor was clearly a snake masquerading behind a pretty face. "And that was the moment I understood one of the Gods I admired the most had murdered my sister."
  
  And the worst part? Ethan was sure that while the truth was framed to make the Emperor look better than he was, it wasn't a complete obfuscation of the truth.
  
  "This was the moment where the truth was revealed to me. The current Gods can't tolerate a society where there are mortals who present a risk to gain a tiny ray of their light. Their jealousy knows no bounds. You can promise them everything, fulfil it, and it won't ever be enough. And when they realised I had become aware of their deceptions, they assassinated me. They ruined my reputation, my accomplishments."
  
  The grin which followed was filled with hatred.
  
  "But despite their best efforts, the population of Rome loved me. And they deified me, allowing me to survive. I was a mere shadow for countless centuries, but I was still present, able to work upon my revenge. It was difficult for I, a distant Legacy of the Goddess of Love and Rome, but I was able to regain a body and power. I knew, both for revenge and for passion, that I had to take back the sun from the one who was unworthy of it. But across my travels and conversations, I realise I couldn't need alone. I was destined to be Neo Helios, but like the Sun can't exist without the Moon, the best part of my soul had to be returned from the dead. And as the Olympians fought each other during their Civil War of the nineteenth century, I was given the priceless opportunity to return my sister to the realm of the living."
  
  "It sounds impressive," Jake Mason declared, "but you the reality is the Titans of the Sun and the Moon faded voluntarily after your reign."
  
  "That's what the Gods pretended," Julia Drusilla replied, one hand handed to be placed in both of her brother's. "But the reality is far darker. Both Olympian twins made a concerted campaign to remove Helios and Selene from the pantheon of deities worshipped by our people, and when new deities were brought forwards to replace them, like Sol Invictus for example, they were swift to kill the lords of Rome who supported such efforts. The Olympians killed two Titans, and had the gall to make it sound like it was the fault of the Romans wanted fewer deities. It wasn't. It was them who wanted more power and less competition for certain prerogatives."
  
  "That was an impressive monologue," Perseus Jackson - who's else? - applauded with a visibly impressed expression. "But while your desire to launch this extremely ambitious campaign of usurpation is perfectly understandable, there is a rather difficult issue."
  
  "An issue?"
  
  "Your name has survived for a couple of thousand of years, your Illustrious Divinity, in part because the Gods created a dark legend of your deeds," the son of Poseidon said happily. "And you were known before your violent official demise to be a worshipper of the Sun. But your sister is, alas, far less famous than you are, and was not known to be a worshipper of the Moon in the first place. Her name is not unknown to the specialists of Roman history, but her Serene Moonlight Divinity's name is not common knowledge in the streets of New York City."
  
  "True," the - supposedly - mad Emperor agreed. "This is why we had to solidify my Sister's new identity of Neo Selene by capturing several Huntresses and draining them of their Moon's power-"
  
  Several arrows were in the air before anyone could prevent Nightshade from doing something stupid.
  
  At such short distance, they couldn't miss.
  
  They didn't.
  
  It was like they had met an impenetrable armour of silver as the sink's colour of Julia Drusilla brutally changed and the blue eyes began to glow black, something the son of Nemesis knew presaged nothing good.
  
  A single finger was pointed at the lieutenant of Artemis. Something boomed, and the archer was propelled against the nearest wall with several Legionnaires and servants. She managed to stand up again, but it was evident the blow had landed and a second would likely put her down.
  
  "This is a poor manner to accept my hostility!" the former Emperor of Rome exclaimed loudly. "To erase this scandalous offence, I demand the participation of several of the Questers in the grand inauguration of the Circus Maximus tonight!"
  
  Perseus Jackson was not lacking in the sarcastic declaration, but this time, Drew thought he was ready to establish a competition where he would be the jury, the spokesman, and the ruling champion.
  
  "At which point," the son of Poseidon made several gesticulations noticeable for their ridiculousness, "did you understand it was a trap, Nightshade? Before or after the pseudo-Goddess beat you like her unwanted step-child?"
  
  "I do not-"
  
  "No, you were not thinking, clearly," the Demigod interrupted her acidly.
  
  A heavy silence fell in the room they had been given at their request to 'prepare' for the festivities - translate by their eventual death.
  
  Luke at last coughed.
  
  "As much as I know the execution would be difficult...why don't we try to escape? I mean, Minos' Queen and now Caligula are allied. They're also trying to make sure the Great Quest fails before we've ever stepped a foot in the Underworld."
  
  "I don't think they're very much allied, more like they coordinated to launch certain operations the same year. The Romans can't survive anywhere outside a Zone Mortalis; and the Queen of the Labyrinth needs mortal resources to build her private empire under the earth." Their green-eyed leader grinned. "Of course, once is a coincidence, twice is enemy's action. Whoever is in command in Hell, they outright tolerate their usurpation attempts."
  
  Dakota managed to not collapse after spitting out his Kool-Aid.
  
  "That's serious accusations, Jackson."
  
  "Accusations?" the son of Poseidon giggled like a madman...again. "There is nothing accusatory, it's simply the truth. To bring back something from the pits of Below, the rituals had to raise a massive ruckus there. It might get unnoticed by Olympus, but I assure you the guardian of said pits would have felt the earthquakes."
  
  "Err...yes." Jake Mason cleared his throat. "But that doesn't explain why you think they don't want us dead."
  
  "Because my new eternal friend the God-Emperor is essentially acting in two modes, one where he is going for the kill, the other where he's playing with his prey. When he does the former, it's when he wants his enemies dead at all costs. When the latter is showed off, the survival of the 'prey' can be achieved."
  
  "And he is definitely playing with us," Lou Ellen spoke. "I suppose that means it's better to beat him at his own game than engineering an escape attempt?"
  
  "Pretty much," the Earthshaker's scion replied. "There's a whole Legion guarding the exits, in addition to tens of thousands bodies brainwashed to follow the brother-sister duo's orders whatever they command. It's a slightly disadvantageous situation, and save flying away on a chariot propelled by my loyal gargoyles, the solutions include a less-than-appealing rate of casualties."
  
  "But the chariot races are going to be rigged from the start."
  
  "Annie, there is no sportive competition in history that hasn't been rigged a little bit if money or something interesting is at stake," the infuriating boy raised a finger like he was a wise teacher correcting his foolish student. Drew repressed a giggle.
  
  "What about we do something loyal for once?" Zoë Nightshade, past the shock, returned combative and ready to fight Jackson verbally. "What about we destroy this ridiculous edifice, kill this duo of usurpers, and escape in the confusion?"
  
  "Zouzou," the Huntress growled threateningly, "I know you are a loyal servant of Olympus and all that ridiculous stuff, but," the black-haired swordsman grinned, "you realise you are their sole and only target, right?"
  
  "What?"
  
  "I thought myself it was evidence itself," Perseus nodded slowly like he was Athena surrounded by imbeciles. "The conditions of the chariot races only confirmed my suspicions. Lucy, Dannie, and myself are forbidden to take part, and you are to be our champion in the sixth race."
  
  "Caligula said he wanted to have you close for...impartiality reasons."
  
  Jackson snorted.
  
  "And I'm sure Daisy and Jennifer will have deep conversations while we proclaim each other our eternal friendship." A second snort was expelled from his throat. "No, it would have been easy to order the death of Dorothy here, and they didn't take their chance. They're after Zara. The immortal sorceress informed them we had the lieutenant of the Goddess of the Moon among our Quester group, and they improvised this trap to seize upon the opportunity."
  
  "And you're going to explain to us it's a multi-stage plan which will result in a grand ritual leading to Zoë being trapped into something she has no chance to escape?"
  
  "No," somehow, a bucket filled with cold water found itself frowning Annabeth by surprise. The daughter of Athena spluttered with rage. "Were you listening when I was speaking before? The ritual is when they summon shards of the Titan from the dimension Below. The races are just a simple method to separate Nightshade from us so before the Empress faces Nightshade and force her to do...whatever she wants to do, we will be too far away and surrounded by enemy forces."
  
  "Whatever she wants to do?" Luke raised his eyebrows at the unusual turn of the sentence.
  
  "If we trust her speech, the beautiful Caesarea drained several Huntresses from the power Artemis gave them and the same fate awaits Nightshade should she lose." Perseus Jackson grinned as if the concept amused him. "The problem is, I think she was lying. I think she doesn't drain them...or it would be more accurate to say it's not ending there. Usurpation requires someone to take over the domain and assets of the one you are usurping the seat of. And what better way to do it than to pour your own power once the empty shell in front of you is at your mercy?"
  
  "I will die rather than forsake Lady Artemis!"
  
  "I don't think they really intend to give you the choice," Jackson smiled. "There's a reason I think they chose chariot races of all things for the challenge. I know you Huntresses are immortals unless the opposition slays you, but...you're not exactly big on chariots, no?"
  
  Judging by the way the Huntress was gritting her teeth, the son of Poseidon had marked an important point.
  
  "Right, let's go back to the main problem. Clarisse! You are going to be our first champion. The camp records indicate you won two races in the last year, and the 'free weapons allowed' is a god-sent for your talents. Rampage at will, and be careful about your surroundings. The other Demigods and mortals participating won't be the only enemies ordered to kill you."
  
  "I will win this race," the boar-armoured child of Ares promised.
  
  "Shouldn't we put our most experienced chariot-driver at the end?"
  
  "No, Amy, it isn't a question of strategy. We need to make sure the crowd is satisfied by our performance until our hosts are forced to grant us our liberty under the thunderous cheers of their own worshippers. And I have a detailed plan of how to achieve it."
  
  "Does that plan included transforming Varus into a pink crocodile?" The son of Hephaestus commented grimly. "Jackson your loyalties are-"
  
  "My loyalty is to my humble person, nothing more, nothing less," the son of Poseidon joyfully declared. "Or were you speaking about my loyalty to Olympus? It is nonexistent, I assure you. And for that, you will be in the second race, don't thank me."
  
  "We're not forced to participate in all the races," Dakota protested loudly.
  
  "Come on, son of Bacchus, where is your spirit of competition?" the blue-eyed portly boy gaped at that remark. "Yes, in theory, with six races and nine potential participants, we could leave a few of you in reserve, but according to the program, the last two races are doubled, which means twice the number of opponents after your pretty little heads. So we need to place two chariots ourselves. Where was I? Ah yes, third race, the spawn of the God of Wine, for the fourth, my treacherous lieutenant, the fifth will be won by my heroic lieutenant and the gardener, and for the sixth, the Huntress and the Abyssal Wisdom will pair for the worse and for the worst."
  
  Nightshade and Chase gave him such expressions of loathing that if they could kill with their eyes, Jackson would be dead within two heartbeats.
  
  "Don't forget to have fun during all these seven laps! It is not every day you have the honour to drive in the Novus Circus Maximus!"
  
  Crazy. They were led by someone completely crazy. One by one, the Demigods and Demigoddesses left the room to be walked to the chariots where their fate would be decided. Soon there was only the daughter of Hecate and herself with Jackson.
  
  "Now that our friends have been suitably encouraged..." the grin was absolutely NOT reassuring, "it's time to cheat outrageously. Daughter of Love, your part in my plans is absolutely essential, so listen carefully..."
  
  Why did Drew have the feeling she was so going to die?
  
  "The first rule," the self-proclaimed God Neo Helios shouted, "is that there are no rules save that the first chariot to reach the finish line wins!"
  
  The tens of thousands of throats in the stadium manifested their loud approval, and Perseus smirked.
  
  Well, with such a generous invitation, who was he to refuse?
  
  One of his gargoyles handed him an object which looked like a lighter but once properly handled, rapidly revealed its true nature: a modern rocket-launcher freshly stolen from a Hephaestus military convoy.
  
  "Hey!" The Legionnaire closest to him shouted. "What do you think you are-"
  
  Perseus fired, and the projectile, several kilograms of explosive and various substances used by the God of Smiths and Ammunitions were unleashed against the chariots which were barely picking speed.
  
  The result was devastating. Three chariots disintegrated, a massive crash between two others, and the red chariot of Clarisse La Rue was taking the lead, its boar automatons answering with celerity the roars of their new mistress.
  
  "This is...against the rules."
  
  "Hmm?" The son of Poseidon feigned to be surprised by the black-armoured soldier's comment. "Impossible! Your Illustrious Divinity declared in person that if spectators intervened in the race, it wasn't against the rules!"
  
  "Perseus Jackson is right," Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus began to eat some grapes on his Roman-style couch two metres away. "Still, one might call it...unsporting. These poor mortals were promised ephemeral glory."
  
  "They were my targets for a short moment," he yawned. "Doesn't it count as ephemeral glory for them?"
  
  "Perhaps," the being who tried to hide how little he controlled his own divine nature answered. Truly, his sister was far better as assimilating the power, certainly because she was far closer to what Selene was about than him from Helios. "Or perhaps not."
  
  It wasn't a coincidence that Clarisse was finishing her first lap, with a comfortable advance on the second chariot, this one towed by horse automatons.
  
  "I believe it's time to activate the traps," the claimant to the throne of Apollo affirmed. One gesture from him, and twelve holes opened on the race field, and where there had been nothing but sand and earth, now they were dangerous mass of spikes. Needless to say, at the speed the animal-shaped automatons were galloping, if they slammed into them, there was going to be death for the chariot-owner caught in the collision.
  
  Obviously, this was why his next gesture was to throw a grenade of Greek Fire right in front of the chariot currently occupying the third position.
  
  The explosion of green flames was spectacular, and the demise after that extremely ridiculous, it was like the mortal had been harpooned.
  
  "My sixth kill of the day," Perseus stole an apple from a nearby cup. "My friend, you have a gift to entertain your visitors!"
  
  "Your champion was already winning!" A Praetorian angrily shouted.
  
  "Do you think it's a reason to stop cheating...I mean profiting from the absence of rules?"
  
  "Macro, Macro," the Emperor clapped in his hands, "I gave the rules, didn't I? Perseus Jackson is merely...adapting them to suit his convenience."
  
  The blue eyes stared at him, and the ex-Tyrant knew that for all his apparent good-heartedness, 'Caligula' hated losing, for all the fact this race had little importance.
  
  "But I think that since the crowd appreciates the spectacle," the blonde Emperor of the Novus Circus Maximus threw his fruit a hundred metres away without effort, "it is time to raise the stakes. Release the Sun Dragon."
  
  The red chariot of the daughter of Ares had increased its advance significantly by the end of the third turn when the first roar resonated. The massive gates opened seconds after, and Clarisse had to be one of the first to have a glance at the monster unleashed in the Circus.
  
  And it was a monster. Easily the size of three or four Hellhounds like Zoë, and his pet - busy devouring several treats of meat - was closer in size to a Battle Tank than a bike.
  
  And as the name suggested, yes, it breathed fire. Solar fire, the golden flames of the sun.
  
  "A present of Lady Medea, I suppose?" the green-eyed boy asked as he tried to think about which artefact would be the best to help Clarisse survive this monster. The belligerent girl had taken Carnifex with her, but as good as a spear was for the offence, she was going to need some defensive power. In the mean time, the red-gold reptile decided to have a snack, devouring chariot and driver which were in second place.
  
  "You didn't try to train it into attacking only Demigods?"
  
  "I promised them ephemeral glory, not safety and security," the Augustus of Rome was evidently satisfied by the massacre...and the way the crowd shouted his name, in all likelihood.
  
  "How forgetful of me," and he threw Clarisse a replica of an Aegis shield when she finished her fourth lap, though unlike the original, this one was a night-infused artefact.
  
  "FOR ARES!"
  
  The red chariot charged the Sun Dragon, who released a torrent of golden fire as the boars and Clarisse clearly tried to hurt it. The night protection absorbed the flames as they came into contact, and soon the sun dragon had the disagreeable surprise to see its tail impaled, before some gigantic claws erupted from her armour and dragged the Sun Dragon behind her vehicle.
  
  The massive reptile didn't like it at all.
  
  But the spectators did, and the Circus Maximum went into ebullition.
  
  After several more spear wounds inflicted, the Dragon was released, and the sorceress' present understood the message: get out of the arena, which it did promptly, but not before smashing another chariot. Given that in addition to his modest contributions the girl of Barrack Five was eliminating her opponents without hesitation, the seventh lap was a victory lap.
  
  "WINNER THE ROUSIOI CHARIOT!" which was just the Latin name for red, he knew.
  
  "Impressive," the golden usurper hiding behind a human appearance did a good job of smiling. "You have a talented berserker in you service, son of Poseidon."
  
  "The sons and daughters of Ares have stayed close to their roots of ancient Greece," and since he was so generous, he could throw one compliment for his opponent. "As do the sons of Mars when they serve the Legions of Rome."
  
  "Indeed," the self-proclaimed God approved, "your champion can keep the boars and the chariot, may they prove as useful to her in the future as they were in this race. I will add an Aurei reward should she survive your dangerous Quest."
  
  A small army of servants hurried to remove from the race field the debris of the chariots, the corpses, and the multiple traps.
  
  "For the next race, I would appreciate your restraint if you didn't kill half of the participants before the first lap is over."
  
  There hadn't been any fixed rules for Great Quests, but Drew thought one should be: whatever insanity Jackson tried yesterday, he can always do something crazier.
  
  "How by the Holy Love did he manage to steal a Hephaestus rocket-launcher?" the daughter of Aphrodite asked as the storm of applause and cheers created by the death race finally decreased in intensity.
  
  "I don't know," Lou Ellen replied next to her. "How did he manage to acquire a Greek Fire grenade and a Noctis Shield?"
  
  These were quite interesting questions...and the two Demigoddesses didn't have the answer. It might be for the best, since the enemy was so close to them.
  
  "The son of Poseidon is quite resourceful," Julia Drusilla said, though she insisted they called her Neo Selene. "His exploits have been more and more noticeable these last three years, and rumours and news have spread everywhere, especially here in the Labyrinth. The enclave was moved here after his first rampage through this area, did you know?"
  
  "We knew he went into the Labyrinth several times, yes," the daughter of Hecate admitted. "He and his friend the Minotaur."
  
  "An odd friendship," the Roman Caesarea told them. "But boys will always be boys..."
  
  It was a way to look at it.
  
  While they tried to not reveal too much about them and continue a polite conversation, the next race preparations began below. Like Clarisse, Jake Mason was given a vivid red chariot.
  
  Unlike the victorious daughter of Ares however, his chariot had not received boars automatons, but donkey-crafted metallic coursers. The Romans must have seized a lot of automatons from Daedalus' ateliers to have this menagerie of automatons available.
  
  This wasn't the only difference with the first race. The chariot drivers were doing their best to stay as far away as possible from the section where Perseus Jackson had a direct fire line to annihilate them without effort.
  
  And this time, the Caligula-appointed boys and girls weren't laughing at the red chariot. Their predecessors had mocked Clarisse La Rue, and they had died for their arrogance. This time, they wouldn't participate believing a Demigod of New Byzantium was easy prey.
  
  "Was Jake Mason any good at chariot races?" Drew asked to the black-eyed sorceress.
  
  "I don't remember hearing him winning any," was the less-than-reassuring answer. "I remember the best chariot from the Hephaestus Barrack was the one of Beckendorf, though."
  
  Brown eyes met black eyes, and the two girls arrived at the unpalatable conclusion it would be best if Jackson did the same thing he had done for Clarisse in the first race.
  
  "This going to be fascinating," the words of their shifting purple toga-wearing hostess were not exactly friendly. "The children of the Smith God always have gifts to deal with automatons. I wonder how well he is going to deal with my brother's efforts."
  
  "You didn't take part in the organisation of the races?" Lou Ellen inquired.
  
  "I was involved in the planning of the last race," damn it, Jackson had been right again. "For the rest, I left the major and minor details to Neo Helios. He always loved organising spectacles like this while we were young."
  
  The affection...no, not the affection or even the tender feelings, the love of Julia Drusilla was nearly suffocating.
  
  "You adore him."
  
  "Of course I do," the blonde immortal woman said without shame. "Do you have any idea how rare it was two thousand years ago to have your brother choose you as his Heiress? Do you have any idea how much he trusted and continue to trust me?"
  
  The black-armoured sorceress coughed.
  
  "There were rumours..."
  
  "Oh, these weren't rumours, child of Hecate." The smile was innocence itself. "He was my first when I was thirteen. And while I grew older, he was the only man I went to bed with voluntarily."
  
  Both Demigoddesses had nothing to say to that. They had expected many things, but not this blunt and proud admission.
  
  This was...incest.
  
  "Do not look so shocked, dears. You are the descendants of incest yourselves, aren't you? Your parents if not your grandparents are the result of the first mythical incestuous relationships. The Master of Olympus and his wife are brothers and sisters, and no one bats an eye."
  
  "But..." But they are Gods, Drew wanted to say. "Is this why you are supporting fully your brother's plans? Because you are lovers?"
  
  "Our plans, Drew Tanaka, our plans," for an instant, the air shivered and a being with silver hair and midnight eyes replaced the seemingly delicate woman. "And no, this isn't only a question of love. This pathetic wastrel of God of Music killed me with one of his incurable fevers when I was barely twenty-one. Even by the standards of our era, it was extremely young. Do you think I was happy to learn I was punished because the Gods still weren't happy after all the sacrifices we did for them?"
  
  "Err...surely they must be...err...a far more pragmatic reason for Lord Apollo's behaviour."
  
  Something angry flashed into the Roman woman's blue eyes.
  
  "I can't prove it," the Caesarea said in a low tone, "but I think this imbecile was one of my admirers at several immense celebrations just before I died. I refused their advances, of course."
  
  An eagle of bronze materialised before the participants, and the spectators screamed again as the chariots left their starting positions at the maximal acceleration they were able. To Drew and Lou Ellen's dissatisfaction, Jake Mason was barely fourth when they arrived at the end of the half-lap. Near-miraculously, there hadn't been any accident, despite the twenty chariots in the race.
  
  "It is only the advice of Neo Selene, girls," the sister of Caligula kept her eyes on the chariots and the spectacle proposed by the contestants of the Circus Maximus, "but I know you will soon begin to fully experience the pull towards Perseus Jackson. If he can give you lust and power...if you think you can trust him with your soul and body...don't resist. Embrace it. There are few Demigods like him, and you have been granted a rare chance, in this age of rebellion against Olympus."
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite had excellent composure, but she was very well aware her face had to be redder than a tomato. They were too young...and even if they weren't, they didn't know Jackson at all, save his insanity and his tendency to throw them into suicidal situations and somewhat keeping them alive until now!
  
  "I... We will keep your suggestions in mind." This was one of those moments you wanted no witness, since it gave too much blackmail...
  
  Minor consolation, neither she nor Lou would want to disclose that kind of gossip.
  
  The creation of a smoke cloud forced them to refocus on the race, because it appeared their insane leader had thrown...a stuffed turtle? No, it was a metal carapace, not a turtle toy. The chariot which was in the lead hadn't the time to realise what was happening, as the red projectile decapitated one of its horse automatons and send the chariot behind flitting against the protected walls, resulting in a lot of debris and confusion.
  
  "That has to hurt," Julia Drusilla smiled. "Ah, I see my brother unleashed the modified Colchis Bulls."
  
  "The what?" Lou Ellen exclaimed. "You aren't serious, their fire is so hot no Demigod can't withstand it!"
  
  Before the last word had been uttered, the two bulls were into the Circus' second race...though maybe 'bull' was not an adequate name. The things were bull-shaped, sure enough, but Drew knew they were zoos which owned smaller elephants.
  
  "Your brother-" the words failed her.
  
  "My brother wants to give a memorable spectacle to the people who believe in us. Is it so wrong?"
  
  It wasn't...as long as you weren't one of the mortals caught in this blood sport. Because as one Bull caught up with the first chariot, the gold-armoured young man who was driving it literally burst into flames.
  
  In an instant, there was a flaming torch...then a golden statue which also appeared to be in flames.
  
  "What the?"
  
  Flowers exploded everywhere, and the first Bull appeared troubled by Jackson's intervention - because it was him once more who had intervened.
  
  "I think we will really have to write some rules for the next festivities," Julia Drusilla sighed. "Specifically, a limitation of how many artefacts a spectator is allowed to use to interfere in each race."
  
  The chariots began the fourth lap out of seven, and the race went utterly crazy. New holes opened up to reveal braziers of Greek Fire, more spiked traps materialised, and of course the Colchisian Bulls were in hot pursuit behind, trying to trample each of the chariot drivers who tried to outpace and outsmart them.
  
  Jake Mason was in second place by now, and was using profusely his machine gun, which he had mounted on the decorated crimson prow of his chariot, to fire Celestial Bronze ammunition at everything and everyone.
  
  Four laps, four long laps to survive...the green flames burned hot...and suddenly a sort of viscous substance was thrown on it as Jackson continued to prove himself the favourite of the Roman spectators.
  
  But no force or magical explosion seemed to be able to stop or even delay the Colchis Bulls...these were not the original creatures forged by Hephaestus, but they weren't any less dangerous. Their eyes burned in golden fire, and their fiery breath was as radiant as the sun...probably the 'modifications' mentioned previously.
  
  Drew was quite happy not to be participating in this race...she most would likely have died by now.
  
  "Is there a spell capable of hurting the Bulls?"
  
  "Not without hurting the chariot drivers...and not without a lot of preparation I don't have the time for," the daughter of Hecate admitted. "Besides, it's more water magic we would need to beat this kind of fires..."
  
  The fifth lap saw three more fiery deaths. The sixth lap destroyed two chariots. By then, Jake Mason was still second...out of two remaining participants. His machine gun begun to make shrieking sounds. His automatons stopped throwing projectiles, and one of the metal donkeys began to take a dangerous volcano-like shade.
  
  Drew closed her eyes when the first Colchis Bull was so close that the wheels of the red chariot began to burn.
  
  When she reopened them, the last two chariots were engulfed in a monumental explosion.
  
  "A pity," their 'hostess' said in a detached tone. "There will be no winner for this race...brother, was it really necessary to amuse yourself like that?"
  
  At first the long black-haired Demigoddess didn't understand what the ancient woman was saying...and then the cloud become golden before coalescing into an animal shape.
  
  It was...a donkey. A real donkey, unlike the automatons which had towed Jake's chariot.
  
  The donkey stood on four legs after making sounds like it was trying to shrug off the sound of explosions...and then it spoke.
  
  "I am alive!"
  
  "Jake?"
  
  "Oh, by the pits," Lou Ellen swore. "First a pink crocodile, now a talking donkey? And we can't even blame Jackson for that one..."
  
  The Romans burst into cheers though, because for some reason, they found the situation hilarious...
  
  Dakota had stopped drinking Kool-Aid.
  
  It was not because he wasn't thirsty. He was. His Fatal Flaw was Thirst, as it was for most sons of Bacchus, and this was something unquenchable.
  
  No, he stopped drinking because he was utterly terrified.
  
  Roman Demigods, in general, were absolutely pathetic at riding chariots. For all the versatility of the Roman Legions, for all the thousands of battles fought before and after the fall of the Western Roman Empire, chariot-driving was something which had never been among their strengths. The cavalry doctrine had evolved and taken importance during the different centuries. The infantry was the Queen of the wars. The siege engines changed and shifted to cannons when the age of gunpowder came.
  
  But chariots? No, the Roman Demigods weren't using chariots. They left that to the Greek.
  
  Dakota McDonald had tried to master it when he joined the ranks of the Questers, of course. But one couldn't change the inevitable, and as far as standards were concerned, he was far worse than most Roman Demigods where the chariots were concerned.
  
  He was, to be honest, bloody awful at it.
  
  And now he was supposed participating in a death race, one which had just seen Jake Mason nearly die and be transformed into a talking donkey, a talking red donkey, because Bloody Caligula thought it was funny.
  
  Dakota was so doomed. His teeth were clacking, his knees were feeling so, so weak, and his body was shivering from head to toe.
  
  "My friend, you look like you could use some refreshment before your race!" Oh great, now Jackson was here. He was twice doomed...no, make it thrice.
  
  "I don't want to drink, Jackson." The black-haired Demigod said weakly. "I am ridiculous on a chariot. All the Kool-Aid in the world won't do me any good when facing these damned Bulls."
  
  "I have it under good authority the next beasts to be unleashed won't be the Colchis Bulls, my friends."
  
  "So it will be a Giant Eagle. Or a Drakon. Or something so big we would need to bring a Cohort to kill it. I don't think Kool-Aid will be of any help."
  
  "You're right."
  
  "Hey?"
  
  "You're right," Perseus Jackson smiled with this grin that was giving him the idea that maybe, just maybe, facing the Colchis Bulls alone, naked, and weaponless was preferable. "Kool-Aid won't help you." The son of Poseidon took a step left, revealing a...barrel? "But Eleutherian Wine will."
  
  "How did you..." if this was truly Eleutherian Wine, there were king's ransoms worth less than- his thoughts stopped abruptly. Eleutherian Wine. Named after one of his father's aspects, namely 'Eleutherios', the Liberator, this alcoholic drink was...well, THE alcoholic drink, only losing in potency, taste, and healing properties to the famous Nectar of the Gods. It was a strength-enhancer drink, one which could make the weakest son of Aphrodite into the new Heracles. It was also a wine which destroyed ALL your inhibitions. "My father..."
  
  "Your father isn't here." The insane boy looked around. "As far as I'm aware."
  
  "This can't be-"
  
  "There are no rules save the one which says the first to finish wins. So it isn't against the rules, since there aren't any rules."
  
  "I am not going to drink a cup of this barrel." Even his father couldn't predict what would happen.
  
  "Remember what I told you before, my dear drunk friend?" Dakota frowned, what had the madman-
  
  "I don't drink wine, I drown people into barrels of it."
  
  "Get away from me!"
  
  But the other Demigod was too strong, and the open barrel soon engulfed his whole universe...
  
  "Clarisse! Tell Jackson to transform me back!"
  
  Any other moment, the daughter of Ares wouldn't have laughed. But this was a red donkey braying at her, and her race had destroyed most of her self-control.
  
  Clarisse laughed so hard that for the next minutes, every braying sound made her laugh harder, striking some furniture, and she shed countless tears for the first time because it was too goddamn funny.
  
  The old tales of past Great Quests hadn't mentioned that.
  
  "This is your fault, Jackson!" A new braying and all attempts to stop her laughter crisis went up in smoke.
  
  "I plead non-guilty, my honourable quadruped friend."
  
  "For once, the son of Poseidon says the truth," Emperor Caligula raised an eyebrow, ignoring the wounded expression of their mad leader. "I transformed you into a donkey, son of Hephaestus. Your fellow Quester cost me Incitatus, I thought it was nice pay-back."
  
  The red donkey brayed and struck violently the floor of the Imperial Lodge.
  
  "Well, it's not funny anymore! Transform me back!"
  
  "If I do that, you will die," the blonde Roman replied with a smirk. "Your last instants as a human may be foggy, but I assure you a Colchis Bull's horn found its way into your human body and likely burned your spine...unless it broke it first. Anyway, once I transform you back, you will have mere seconds left to live. No one, not even Asclepius, can heal you that fast."
  
  The master of the Circus Maximus then ignored the new braying carrying insults and protestations, and turned towards Jackson.
  
  "The Interlude is over. Is your third Champion ready?"
  
  "He is, he is, my eternal friend...as a matter of fact, he's just arriving to take his place on the starting grid!"
  
  Clarisse watched the racing track of the immense Roman game field...and wondered if she wasn't suddenly subject to hallucinations.
  
  Dakota McDonald was presenting himself to the crowd. Or at least someone having his looks did.
  
  Because while the daughter of Ares wasn't a friend of him, she was rather sure the son of Bacchus would not under any circumstances present himself bare-chested in front of a crowd of tens of thousands of spectators. Nor would he wear a wolf pelt fixed by magic on his shoulders.
  
  And he certainly wasn't good enough to drive something towed by murderous automatons...not that he did, since for the first time, the red chariot partially painted in purple was towed by massive, living black panthers.
  
  "AVE ROME!" The new champion of New Byzantium shouted, raising a nine-tailed whip which had to be created from the most vicious wines in existence, given that she could see the thorns from here. And as one chariot was too slow ceding him the priority, the whip struck, killing the mortal nearly instantly and dragging his corpse on several metres. "AVE CAESAR! THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO WIN SALUTE YOU!"
  
  "Ave!" Caligula saluted, but even he seemed to be deeply surprised by the changes in the Quester.
  
  The crowd loved it though, and there was something...some sort of purple shroud expanding everywhere.
  
  As discreetly as she could, she went by Jackson's side.
  
  "How did you-"
  
  "Half of a barrel of Eleutherian Wine."
  
  Clarisse gaped. So did Caligula not far from her.
  
  "I..." the self-proclaimed Neo Helios was literally speechless for several seconds. "Setting aside how you were able to acquire such a priceless drink I have not in my own private cellars...does the employment of this wine, even on a Demigod, does not carry serious risks?"
  
  "The risks have always been way exaggerated," the green-eyed madman waved, "it is possible my dear drunk friend will lose utterly his inhibitions for a few decades, show a tendency to lead campaigns of madness wherever there's a significant party nearby, ride leopards and panthers summoned from somewhere, and other minor troubles of personality...but apart from that, all will be well."
  
  The departure of the race was given, and Dakota McDonald immediately destroyed the closest chariot next to him...with nothing but a whip and his bare hands.
  
  "This is insane," and this was not an Emperor famous for being sane who spoke," do you have any idea how much damage can he cause before he regained some measure of self-control?"
  
  "Come on my friend! Surely-"
  
  "His father reached India with nothing but a bunch of half-naked peasants to help him!"
  
  "I'm sure my drunk friend won't go that far!" A chariot was smashed against the walls, while another was so thrashed they should begin to invent a new word for it. "Probably. Possibly."
  
  "Release the Harpies!" Caligula announced. "And please record that Eleutherian Wine is now considered as a forbidden doping substance in all sport competitions of my Imperium!"
  
  But the massive flock of Harpies didn't last a minute - or two laps, if one counted in race terms. The panthers went on the devour those fallen by nothing but the barbs of the whip and sheer madness.
  
  The small Hydras which were released later didn't fare any better. Chariot drivers were spanked by the whip, sometimes forced to drive with their backsides offered to the spectator's eyes, or be struck several more times and mutilated.
  
  The crowd went mad. The power of the son of Bacchus engulfed everything, and gave them new thunderous craziness as they cheered over and over.
  
  The last laps were just difficult to memorise. Was the drunk Roman Demigod drinking the blood of his deceased opponents or was he adding more pet to his chariot which went more and more purple? Did he ram deliberately one of the last chariots as he gained a lap on him?
  
  "VICTORY! DAKOTA MCDONALD IS VICTORIOUS!"
  
  The madness, far from being over, was just beginning. The son of Bacchus abandoned his chariot near one of the Gates and directly jumped into the ranks of the spectators where he proceeded to...err...
  
  "Damn, the censorship will never allow us to report that," Jackson was smiling like the cat which had eaten the canary. "He has a way with women, our Casanova..."
  
  "Err...yes, shouldn't we," Clarisse saw nothing wrong in kissing a boy, quite the contrary, but the kissing had had been for the first seconds, now it was far more...err...carnal in the stands, "err...stop him?"
  
  "Leave him to his fun," the son of Poseidon raised his cup. "He won, didn't he? And besides...this is the decadence of Rome!"
  
  Perseus Jackson, Lou Ellen had now no doubt about, was both an insane genius with a talent to find and unleash dangerous magical goods with no thought about the collateral damage, and possibly one of the greatest threats to Olympus which had ever existed.
  
  Assuredly, the son of Poseidon wasn't able to cast Hellfire or to kill a God. So what? With one barrel of wine, the insane boy had convinced more than half of the crowd of men and women to go utterly mad, as an orgy of drinking and gluttony in general had contaminated tens of thousands of souls, to say nothing of the...more decadent acts playing in the common stands and high-class lodges.
  
  "Isn't it going to be a problem, Neo Selene?" the daughter of Hecate asked the Empress of the Circus Maximus. "Bacchus must know exactly where you are given how these...these activities are fuelling his power. And where one Olympian knows where you are, the others will soon be aware of it too."
  
  Silent question: were they going to receive Zeus' Bolts upon their heads in the next minutes?
  
  "It is a problem," the Roman blue-eyed ruler conceded. "In that our continued survival is going to be revealed to the Olympians. But they won't dare striking at us here."
  
  Her unconvinced mood must have been evident, because Julia Drusilla smirked.
  
  "Dear, we didn't name this Circus 'Novus' just because we are fond of the past. While the Labyrinth is constantly on the move, this enclave is currently immobile one kilometre below the ruins of Old Rome. The Greek Pantheon can't strike us down without burning many, many of the old roots of their Roman Aspects."
  
  "This is why it was so easy for you to attract men and women for this spectacle, right?" Drew Tanaka intervened as the fourth race continued, the third lap being fiercely contested with Ethan Nakamura in second position.
  
  "It was," the woman who wished to usurp Artemis' throne shamelessly admitted. "And it is also why we have been able to build faster our new enclave. I'm afraid we won't allow tours for now, but believe us, soon the New Rome will be ready to be revealed to the world."
  
  "Even the Mist won't be able to hide that." Lou Ellen shivered. Disinterested tone or not, cities emerging from the depths of the earth would send whole countries into panic.
  
  "No." Their hostess replied. "But then the Mist was never supposed to hide each and every move of the Olympians. It was a great power which had to be used sparingly, not to hide the existence of Gods and monsters altogether. The Master of Olympus decided otherwise. He decided to hide the existence of the mythical. Well, we disagree."
  
  The son of Nemesis eliminated his closest challenger and set aflame the oil spread on the sand, his griffon automatons easily jumping to avoid the inferno just lit. Madness spread further in the stands, with a naked Dakota McDonald doing things no underage boy should be doing.
  
  "You're speaking about war."
  
  And not a series of skirmishes or one fought in some backwater in Africa or Asia. Hell, the whole Vietnam War would be nothing more than a firework exercise gone wrong.
  
  "Yes, of course. If the current Western civilisation doesn't suit you...the Western civilisation must change."
  
  For her smiling and pretty face, this woman was half as crazy as Jackson.
  
  Lost in her thoughts, it took the one-sided victory of Ethan Nakamura, won on the corpse of a series of horrible plane-sized vultures, to give her something to forget these dark revelations...
  
  As he left the healing wing of the Novus Circus Maximus, Ethan was rather satisfied. For the price of a rather impressive scar on his left arm, he had won his race and survived another hour of this insane Great Quest.
  
  Of course, since Jackson was nearby, his relief didn't last more than a few seconds. In fact, it lasted until the time he watched a massive carnivorous plant grow in the middle of the fifth chariot race.
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant!" Here was Jackson holding a flamethrower as several thorns and vegetal projectiles were hurled against the Imperial Lodge. "Congratulations on your great victory!"
  
  "What did you say to Gardiner, Jackson?"
  
  "Why do people always assume it is my fault? I am innocent!"
  
  One day, Jackson would die. And after that memorable event, Hades was going to have the challenge of his immortal life to designate the three Judges which would have to deal with the son of Poseidon's lies and partial truths.
  
  "I don't believe you," the black swordsman grunted before coming so close to the insane boy they could whisper to each other, something that given the madness reigning around them and Caligula being nowhere in sight, gave them a measure of privacy. "Don't we have an opportunity to escape? The Cohort which had the upper ground of the Circus is now participating in the orgy of McDonald."
  
  "This isn't an orgy, my treacherous lieutenant. It is an excessive celebration!"
  
  Ethan gave their informal Quests' leader a black eye.
  
  "There are thousands of men and women naked in the stands, most of them doing things like drinking, gorging themselves on food like there is no tomorrow, kissing, touching, exhibiting themselves naked, and last but not least, having sex, Jackson. If that doesn't classify as orgy, I'm ready to pose my candidature for the position of Pontifex Maximus if we return alive to New Byzantium."
  
  Jackson being Jackson, he chuckled.
  
  "Point taken. Most seriously, yes, part of the reason I plunged our good drunken friend in this barrel of wine - apart to allow him to vent up a bit, of course - was to test how good the security measures of this Roman enclave inside the Labyrinth are."
  
  "And?"
  
  "The Circus is encircled by three full Cohorts, my treacherous lieutenant," the green-eyed commander continued in a complete no-nonsense tone which was frightening by its intensity. "There are also two full Cohorts, one of those two double-sized, patrolling between the Novus Circus Maximus and the Gate we need to go through. And in case you were wondering, the reason the 'God-Emperor' isn't there is to give his blessings to several hundred Legionnaires caught in the effects of Bacchus' boons."
  
  Perseus Jackson drank a cup of orange juice before continuing.
  
  "I will admit that for all his reputation, this Roman is a pretty capable friend."
  
  Ethan Nakamura felt his eyes rose to the Labyrinth's walls over their heads in silent prayer.
  
  "If you tried to kill him instead of befriending him..."
  
  "I tried." The admission silenced him. "I am a rather good artist-thief, and I substituted several fruits and several things he ate and drank. All of them had received enough poison to kill a Drakon. He didn't even get stomach pain or a beginning of vomiting. This August can't be described as really human anymore. I haven't been able to do the same things for his Caesarea, but I would be very surprised if the same was untrue."
  
  "Okay..." This was very bad. "Speaking hypothetically, do you have something that can...err...give him enough pause so that we take our entire group and run to the Underworld without looking back?"
  
  "I have. Unfortunately this is...naughty, naughty, Miranda." A second carnivorous plant, one looking like the nightmarish cousin of the first, a green-gold flytrap salivating for human flesh, had tried to sneak up while they were speaking. Unfortunately for it - and fortunately for the humans around - Jackson had a flamethrower, and the plant may be ferocious, but it wasn't resistant to fire.
  
  "This daughter of Demeter is getting quite troublesome." Maybe there was some trace of sanity... "If she really wants to assassinate me, there will be far better occasions to do it."
  
  No, sanity wasn't making a return. Why did he continue to hope for it?
  
  "At least Castellan is in the lead."
  
  "Yes, and now my good friend the Emperor is going to drop his last surprise upon them."
  
  The minds of the son of Poseidon and the former Roman Emperor had to function on the same mad frequency, this was the only plausible explanation for how correctly Jackson predicted the move of his opponents. In a golden flash, no less than five immense statues, all of them more than three metres-tall, materialised between the chariots, one for each of the survivors. And they carried in their white arms of marbles very dangerous-looking spears and swords.
  
  At least this convinced Gardiner to divert her carnivorous creations against the new threat.
  
  "You don't throw at them a few artefacts to make their progress easier? Castellan hasn't plants to help him."
  
  "My heroic lieutenant is fine," something justified a heartbeat later as the son of Hermes destroyed one of the statues' legs by positioning one of the most dangerous traps against the enchanted white stone. "I am sure he is enjoying himself."
  
  If Castellan thought like Ethan, no, no he really didn't.
  
  The black-eyed Demigod blinked and kept his eyes off the chariots for a second, and when he refocused, the situation was dramatically changing.
  
  By several holes which had remained carefully hidden now, a liquid was flowing into the Circus Maximus...a bronze-coloured liquid...except there were some animalistic shapes materialising and disappearing inside, it was like-
  
  "Now that, that is truly fascinating. They must have taken it from Daedalus' stores, I think."
  
  "What is it?"
  
  "I think it's called the Sea of Bronze," Perseus Jackson told him. "As for what it's doing? It's a Curse of Hephaestus, I'm sure you can arrive to your own conclusion..."
  
  The boy who had turned a son of Bacchus into a crazy orgy-leader sighed.
  
  "Ah, dear, I am going to have to intervene. My heroic lieutenant and the daughter of Demeter won't do us much good if they are changed in bronze statues...as heroic and spectacular as the final result would be."
  
  This time there wasn't any rocket-launcher or something ridiculous...just a few jars of water containing far more liquid than any container of that size should have, if the laws of physics were respected...but did the son of Poseidon care about them in the last decade?
  
  It was just pure and brutal hydrokinesis, shields of water surrounding the two Questers' chariots and abandoning the rest to the non-existent mercy of Caligula.
  
  When the wave of liquid bronze receded, the chariots and carnivorous flowers had been transformed into a grand spectacle of bronze-shaped immobile figures.
  
  Ethan couldn't say he liked the way some of this cursed thing had disappeared into Jackson's jars, however.
  
  "And now like the proverb says: the best race for the end of the spectacle."
  
  "Jackson, Nightshade has never practised chariot-driving, and Chase is more stubborn than a mule...no offence, Jake," the son of Nemesis declared as the red donkey which had been a Demigod bared his teeth at him.
  
  "Yes, it has all the ingredients to be a disaster, no?"
  
  Luke had a new motto to propose for those who wished to embark on a Great Quest: it can always get worse.
  
  The other possible option was: we have Jackson with us; the worse is yet to come.
  
  There were some leaders who were sure to disagree, even after being nearly drowned by an enchanted flood of liquid metal which would have transformed him into a bronze statue if not for the Son of Poseidon.
  
  To this, he could point at what remained of the Questers after several days in the Labyrinth. Scipio Varus, missing, transformed into a pink crocodile. Jake Mason, not missing, but certain sentenced to stay in a red donkey's body for the rest of his life unless a God proved Caligula's power and words wrong. Dakota McDonald was busy participating and leading an orgy of such a magnitude it had likely never been seen in the last centuries, and the least said about the mental state of the son of Bacchus, the better.
  
  The more hours they spent on this Great Quest, the crazier all Questers were becoming.
  
  They had to reach Hell before they were all utterly mad...yes, he was aware of how bad it sounded.
  
  It was the last race. Whatever happened, they would be on their way to their real goal in a couple of hours, hopefully with no more dead or crippled people-
  
  Annabeth and Nightshade were on the starting grid, with respectively a red chariot towed by red automaton owls, and a silver chariot propelled by silver deer automatons. The Huntress was really singled out...
  
  "I see you are going for psychological warfare at its finest, Neo Selene," Jackson said, and sure enough, the Imperial Lodge's immense dimensions decreased to a more humble width, bringing back Caligula's sister and the two Demigoddesses conversing with her.
  
  Luke coughed.
  
  "Psychological warfare?"
  
  "All of the chariot drivers of this race save Amy are former Huntresses," the green-eyed Demigod explained too cheerfully, "Huntresses that Neo Selene claimed by conquering the Moon's power in their souls."
  
  Holy...Zoë Nightshade's wrath was going to know no limits when she was going to realise-
  
  "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
  
  Fortunately, most of the stadium's spectators were raving mad, so they didn't take offence at the insult.
  
  "And the daughter of Athena...this is a nasty curse lingering on her."
  
  Luke stopped breathing.
  
  "If it's not a bother, your Immortal Divinity, could you activate it? I have no idea as to the effects, and your beautiful Circus Maximus looks like the perfect sand box to test it in safe conditions."
  
  "Jackson!" He shouted. "Don't you dare-"
  
  "A most interesting suggestion," the sister of the mad Roman Emperor bared her perfect white teeth. "Yes, I think we all can benefit from some entertainment. Let's see what this curse is about."
  
  And she clicked her fingers.
  
  Luke closed his eyes. Please, Hermes and all the Olympians, if there was some good in this world-
  
  "YOU CAN'T STOP ME FROM SEEING THE TRUTH! MY SOUL WAS CREATED TO BE A SPIDER!"
  
  "Jackson...I am going to kill you."
  
  "Join the queue," the red donkey told him. "I want to have my chance first at crushing his skull."
  
  "By his fault I have lost most of my special seeds," Miranda Gardiner hissed. "One day, there will be a root tearing his intestines from the inside."
  
  "It seems," Caligula swallowed one more grape, "that your friends don't appreciate your...particular sense of humour, Perseus Jackson."
  
  The black-haired Demigod cackled loudly...and then his face showed this infernal grin they had learned to fear, for it brought nothing but additional madness, bad jokes, and more problems the size of a mountain's avalanche.
  
  "Of course not!" The scion of the Lord of Atlantis said. "For I am a villain, and this is the first part of my plan."
  
  The big problem of his opposition was that only a heroic mind could have believed in a coincidence.
  
  Two usurpations happening in relatively close proximity to each other? Once could have been a coincidence, two, as he had explained to the others truthfully, was a pattern.
  
  After this acknowledgement, finding the cameras had not been that difficult; if Perseus had to be honest, the poor Prefect of the Praetorian's Guard should try to look less suspicious. It was too easy to find what he did at any given time.
  
  The plan of 'Neo Helios' was rather interesting, once seen in its totality. Film and edit the races and the events all around the Circus Maximus, so that the duo of brother and sister had huge amounts of blackmail over him. Thus when they would 'request' his help in the future, he would have no choice but to obey, or risk being incinerated by Zeus. He was ready to bet all the Legionnaires would disappear from the videos sent to Thunder News and the other Olympian channels.
  
  Neutralising the cameras and taking the true recording to replace them by far more supportive versions of his deeds had been the first part of his plan, really.
  
  The second part had been to carefully emplace the different pieces which would allow his escape.
  
  There was to be one. The survival of Pasiphaë, Caligula, and Julia Drusilla would enrage the Gods, no matter how many good reasons he gave for not being able to slay them. Add some other problems, and Athena, Artemis, or Zeus were likely going to kill him first and ask questions later, all the while they pretended to uphold 'justice'.
  
  They had to be seen as escaping the clutches of the Roman Augustus on his way to become the new God of the Sun. Anything else would be perilous.
  
  Fortunately, one Hellhound and plenty of gargoyles offered a lot of opportunities.
  
  "For I am a villain, and this is the first part of my plan."
  
  The Charmspeak was not directed at anyone in particular, but it didn't need to be. As the correct words were uttered, the 'poison' 'Neo Helios' and 'Neo Selene' had ingested, confident in their ability to neutralise the toxins, was revealed to be an ultra-powerful paralytic magical substance which was going to leave them immobile and silent - the last part was a maybe - for at least ten minutes.
  
  "Jackson, what-"
  
  "Later, my treacherous lieutenant," ah, here it came, "our chariot is arriving."
  
  What better way to escape than use his opponent's massive sun chariot? Towed by half a dozen of his gargoyles, it was longer than a limo and could transport all the remaining Demigods present, yes, even the donkey-transformed one, with ease.
  
  "Throw ropes to Huntress and the spider's believer," the two were busy massacring their competition as the signal to launch the race never arrived. "The party is over."
  
  "And Dakota? And all the Legionnaires standing between us and the exit?"
  
  The son of Poseidon clicked his fingers, and two gargoyles began to soar from the opposite section of the stadium, transporting in their arms the unconscious - and nearly naked - son of Bacchus.
  
  Then the explosions began.
  
  "Jackson! We're still in the Circus Maximus! Do you want to kill us?"
  
  "Calm yourself, oh son of Hermes," he replied, trying his best not to sigh. No one was getting the complexity of his plan, and it was making him sad. "I'm spreading the blessings of Bacchus to the whole Cohorts waiting outside. They're going to rush here to participate to the party while we make our dramatic escape."
  
  Loud songs of drunken debauchery were heard everywhere now. The madness was spreading. Bacchus-Dionysus was going to owe him a lot of favours for the sheer chaos unleashed today.
  
  "All aboard, Questers! We have a mission, and I don't see any symbols of power nearby." Miraculously, most of them obeyed with only a minor glare here and there. Perseus walked to join them and-
  
  "You aren't going to get away with this." Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus seethed. Impressively, the silent part of the enchantment was broken, though it was arguably the weakest part of it.
  
  "The 'stealing your chariot part'? I can assure you we will, your August Divinity." Perseus smirked. "Or was it the part where you threaten me with the existence of the other members of your Triumvirate Commodus and Nero?"
  
  "There is a Triumvirate, yes," Neo Selene murmured, "but we did not choose these imbeciles for allies."
  
  "Ah, my mistake, it seems the rumours were wrong, then," it was also possible they were lying, of course. And...oh dear, why waste an opportunity like this? Walking towards the woman wishing to usurp Artemis, the green-eyed Demigod seized the medallion shining with moonlight ethereal power with his special gloves, placing it in an enchanted box in a hurry. If this artefact hadn't been prepared for Nightshade, he was ready to eat one hundred gold coins. "I'm taking this as the gift it is intended to be."
  
  "Do you obtain all your artefacts like this, Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "It happens," he admitted, giving her a formal salute and smile, before running back towards the enormous golden chariot. "Clarisse, I think we have stayed too long here. Get us out of here!"
  
  "You got it boss! Let's go kill something somewhere else!" Was he that bad an influence...no, impossible...it was all Ares' blood.
  
  The flying chariot was of high quality. In a matter of seconds, they were already gaining a stupendous acceleration, one his gargoyles should be unable to reach.
  
  They left the Novus Circus Maximus in the throes of chaos behind them.
  
  All was as it should be.
  
  24 May 2006, Hell's Gate, the Labyrinth
  
  Dakota woke up and regretted it. Everything hurt.
  
  "I had this strangest dream..." Gods, why was the world spinning like that?
  
  "Cool, we had strange dreams too," a guttural voice tore apart his ears. It was...Clarisse La Rue. "This was something, I tell you. We saw you trounce the opposition on a chariot where you reined in two hungry panthers, killed at least eight men and women with nothing but a whip and your bare hands. Then you won the race, and proceeded to have sex with over a dozen women while throwing tens of thousands of spectators into the greatest orgy of this century."
  
  The words had the merit of throwing most of the pain and exhaustion out of his body, if only for a small moment.
  
  "It wasn't a dream?"
  
  "Of course not," a red donkey entered his field of vision, doing his best to avoid being licked by a black Hellhound.
  
  Dakota turned his head to see if on his right there were more signs of sanity available, but all he saw was Jackson and the Minotaur in some deep conversation.
  
  "When I will have my eight legs you will regret this, Gardiner!"
  
  "Don't mind her," the donkey shook his animal head. "The curse has just been increased several times in her mind, her belief she is a spider soul in a human's body is back in force."
  
  "Oh," Dakota grimaced. "I'm not hallucinating, am I?"
  
  "If it's a drug-fuelled dream, we're all inside it and it shows no sign of stopping," Luke Castellan arrived in front of him. "Do you think you will be able to walk slowly soon?"
  
  "I...think so," standing without help was humiliating and tiring, but the son of Bacchus. "Why?"
  
  "Look on your left."
  
  Dakota McDonald obeyed, and winced as he saw a massive archway carved with Delta symbols waiting. It was something sinister, all made in dark stone, onyx, and the gloomiest colours one could find. Glancing at it was enough to create a pit in his belly.
  
  But the real bad news was what was waiting between the two pillars of the arch. There was no Labyrinth scenery there, but a land of fire, brimstone, red and black, which seemed to create sheer despair by its appearance alone.
  
  "The Underworld."
  
  "Yes, my drunken friend," sure enough, Jackson had noticed he had woke up and was coming this way. "Had I not promised that we would invade Hell for dinner?"
  
  Author's note: Against all odds, the Suicide Squad has accomplished the impossible. The Questers have reached the Underworld...now brace yourselves. The adventure is going to get crazier.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612 (profile name: Antony444)
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Welcome to Hell
  Chapter 6
  
  Welcome to Hell
  
  New Byzantium ignored it and would continue to do so for many more days, but on May 22, the Suicide Squad had achieved the impossible: to enter the realm of the Lord of the Underworld alive and undetected.
  
  The exploit was indeed impressive. Heroes, both ancient and new, had done it before, but unlike legends like Heracles and Orpheus, their successors had achieved the feat while the official entrances of the Underworld were closed to them and guarded by uncountable armies ordered to kill any trespassers.
  
  Moreover, the ancient Greek heroes were generally alone; as a result their smell had a good chance to be dismissed as unimportant by the hordes of monsters they would meet during their Quest. The Suicide Squad, being twelve strong when they departed the city, would not have this chance.
  
  The group of twelve had invaded Hell nonetheless, and the madness of Perseus Jackson had played a major if not essential role in this Quest. Travelling through the Labyrinth, as crazy as it undoubtedly was, had worked. They had lost Scipio Varus along the way, and many of the Demigods and Demigoddesses' sanity hadn't survived without scars, be they physical or mental.
  
  But they were alive, at a moment where both the Constantinople and Byzantium parts were prepared to organise their funerals at any moment, or gambling on how far the Squad would walk before encountering a challenge they couldn't defeat before dying pathetically.
  
  Obviously, if news of the seemingly-impossible exploit had arrived to New Byzantium, no doubt there would have been disbelief. The thought of this hastily band of misfits and inexperienced Demigods with a few leaders who had good reason to hate each other equalling Heracles and other mighty heroes was one which beggared logic and sanity.
  
  Assuming it would have reached the Barracks and the ears of hundreds of Demigods and Demigoddesses and the news were delivered by a source no one could deny, clearly many voices would have mentioned that entering the Underworld undetected was one thing, finding their way to the palace of Hades while avoiding the lethal traps of the Rich One's defences was something else. There was zero chance such a short force of Demigods could stand in presence of one of Lord Zeus' brothers and win, much less convince him by any method other than their words to release the Master Bolt in their possession.
  
  The Suicide Squad, unfortunately, had already broken the odds once.
  
  And in hindsight, had we been aware of it, we shouldn't have worried about what the Lord of Hell and his enforcers would do to the Suicide Squad when they unavoidably discovered their presence. No, being sane, we should have worried about what they were going to do to Hell.
  
  Perseus Jackson, after all, had an insane plan to survive the Labyrinth. Accepting the worst scenario as plausible, it was guaranteed he would have one another for the realm of the dead...
  
  Extract from the Chapter 7 of Chronicles of the Suicide Squad, by Malcolm Pace, son of Athena
  
  22 May 2006, Fields of Asphodel, the Underworld
  
  "My promises have been more than fulfilled. I think I deserve a gold medal for bringing the Suicide Squad here safe and sound!"
  
  "Safe and sound?" Jake Mason erupted after braying loudly. "I was transformed into a donkey!"
  
  "We hadn't noticed," Clarisse La Rue yawned largely. "What a pity Caligula didn't transform you into a mute donkey. We would have won some moments of peace and calm."
  
  "What would you say if your father transformed you into a boar, I wonder," muttered between his large teeth the son of Hephaestus.
  
  "I wouldn't say anything to him," the spear-wielding woman assured him. "I would try to tear him apart before I died."
  
  "Ahem." Perseus Jackson coughed. "So, where is my gold-"
  
  "Don't think we haven't seen you extort hundreds of thousands of Drachmas in Caligula's Circus Maximus!" Miranda Gardiner exclaimed. "You want to have a gold medal, fine! Give us the gold...and transform back Jake! He's the metallurgist of our group!"
  
  "It's not a mere 'group', my dear daughter of Demeter, it is-"
  
  "The Suicide Squad, yes we know."
  
  Ethan's headache was beginning to feel his headache returning.
  
  "And as I said before, I do not have the power to transform back our unfortunate comrade cursed to walk on four legs." Jackson placed a hand on his chest over a region where most humans - but not him - kept their heart. "The not-too-great Caligula truly saved your life. Transforming you back without divine healing would be tantamount to return you to a disembowelled state. And I have many things in my pocket, but nothing which will be able to mimic Asclepius' healing. Now if there are no more questions..."
  
  "I have one," Ethan winced, because the voice of Zoë Nightshade was really on the edge of cold fury. "No, I have two! Tell me why I shouldn't execute you here and now for your treason against Olympus!"
  
  "And how did I break the nonexistent vows I absolutely didn't swear to any God or Goddess, Zara?"
  
  "You didn't attack Caligula and his whore of a sister!"
  
  The look the son of Poseidon wasn't one of joy or his usual amused smirks. It was one of outright condescension.
  
  "My dear Zouzou, these two Romans are without doubt very bad news, but there is something in their speeches which was not a lie: they have indeed ascended beyond their mortal limitations...which is sort of impressive since they were very weak Legacies, not Demigods proper. They aren't as powerful as the Olympians, I will give you that. But to kill them require Gods or powerful symbol of powers. They aren't going to die from a sword or an arrow wound."
  
  Just as he said these words, the black-haired boy grinned and placed a ring shining with golden energy on one of his fingers.
  
  Translation in Jackson-language: everything I just said was a lie. The son of Poseidon had magical artefacts to deal with lesser Gods, he just didn't want to waste them on Caligula and consorts.
  
  "Now if your concerns have been correctly addressed-"
  
  "Ha!" Drew Tanaka snorted before giggling loudly.
  
  "-we can begin the invasion of Hell-"
  
  The lieutenant of Artemis thought otherwise, clearly.
  
  "And what is this beast doing here?" The copper-skinned asked, fortunately pointing a finger and not an arrow in direction of the muscular Minotaur.
  
  "Zara, at the risk of making you angry...angrier..." everyone among the group snorted or prayed the Gods to give them unlimited patience, "you are very racist. This is a Great Quest! Why should non-human warriors be prevented from joining the fun?"
  
  The immortal Huntress gaped. She tried to close her mouth or to speak. And finally an incoherent scream of rage escaped her lips before tightening her lips and gritting her teeth...again.
  
  "Good. Now that Zebra has admitted she can't tolerate other species to breathe the same air as she..." Ethan seriously began to wonder if their informal leader was not trying to give a heart attack to the Huntress...the glare of the brown eyes was murderous in the extreme. "Hear my first order of the Hell Campaign. Do not eat or drink anything you will find in this realm of the dead."
  
  For once, and it had to be the first time, everyone nodded in firm or reluctant approval. While the sum of knowledge available to each Demigod or Demigoddess varied by barrack, everyone knew how Persephone had been tricked into remaining Hades' wife. It had taken one pomegranate fruit, if his memory was good.
  
  "This is going to cause problems, Jackson." The son of Nemesis began after clearing his throat. "For all the reserves of water and food you stored before we entered the Labyrinth, we used much of them in the last days. And the supplies we grabbed in the Roman stadium were barely enough to replenish them. If the barrel you tied to your Hellhound is water..."
  
  "Oh it isn't water. It is a barrel of Eleutherian Wine."
  
  Dakota McDonald took instantly three steps back.
  
  "Don't worry, by drunken lieutenant! This is sorely for bargaining purposes with your father!" If anything, the son of Bacchus was more afraid, not less.
  
  "While as one thief to another I can cheer at the fantastic efforts you must have made to acquire such a rare drink," Luke Castellan's face was very tired. "The immediate priority is to travel across the Fields of Asphodel. With that obstacle in mind, water should be our first and second priority...unless getting us drunk is the first part of your plan of genius."
  
  "My loyal lieutenant...water supplies much as everything edible, are important. But to focus on them is to fall into a trap. Tell me...what do you see before us?"
  
  "Err...the Fields of Asphodel?"
  
  "Yes, and?"
  
  "Err...nothing?"
  
  The son of Hermes was certainly reporting nothing but the truth here. The group of Twelve - plus the enthusiast Hellhound - had arrived near the summit of a big, dark hill, which was half-surrounded by dark stalagmites and stalactites. Behind them were dark peaks and what looked like active volcanoes. It was a spectacle of desolation and hellish atmosphere.
  
  Before them however, the relief quickly stopped being uneven and the Fields of Asphodel were waiting for them. Unlike the other terrains, it wasn't threatening, it was just...grey. Grey, boring, a long plain where the dead were free to wait for all eternity...correction, it was an endless grey field. For all the red 'lights' on the horizon or closer, there seemed to be no end to Asphodel.
  
  "Nothing," Jackson clapped between his hands. "This is absolutely correct. There is nothing between us and the palace of the God ruling this realm. Nothing but the Fields of Asphodel...the two thousand kilometres-long Fields of Asphodel."
  
  "Two thousand?" Miranda Gardiner asked suspiciously. "This is a very neat number..."
  
  "Well, this is approximately two thousand one hundred and six kilometres," the madman grinned. "But who's counting?"
  
  "We can't walk two thousand one hundred and six kilometres in one month!"
  
  "Technically, it's four thousand," Jackson corrected and ignored the glares many Questers sent him. "What? If we can't solve things diplomatically, we will have to go back to this exit," the green-eyed son of Poseidon waved in direction of the portal they had walked through.
  
  "And face Caligula again?" Dakota was unsurprisingly not confident in their chances of emerging alive from such a confrontation.
  
  "His enclave will certainly will have moved out by then." Perseus Jackson replied, clearly not bothered by the challenge. "And I have a lesser Thread to find back the entrance we used near New York City."
  
  Of course he did. Why was Ethan surprised anymore?
  
  "That still leaves the minor problem of fighting our way across Asphodel," if Hades had not countless armies or traps ready to ambush potential Questers, Ethan would eat the Drachmas of his purse here and now. "Especially since we don't have the food and the water...and we don't have the time, either."
  
  "We can use the flying chariots we used to escape and the ones intact from the Circus' races," the red donkey proposed.
  
  "They are enchanted to prevent any thieves from taking them out of the Labyrinth," Lou Ellen said quietly. "I was able to subvert a few protections temporarily, but there's a reason we didn't ride Caligula's ride through the Gate."
  
  "And I don't see trains...or planes nearby," the daughter of Demeter added.
  
  "Don't worry," Luke said after a long sigh of suffering. "I'm sure Jackson is going to propose a plan completely insane in the next ten seconds."
  
  The son of Poseidon, naturally, didn't disappoint.
  
  "My friends," always this crazy grin which should be considered a warning before the weapons of mass-destruction flew. "I have a confession to give to you. My plan involves a great deal of collateral damage."
  
  "I hate you so much," Dakota McDonald moaned.
  
  "Nonsense. We are just going to drown Asphodel under the waves."
  
  One more day of insanity among the Suicide Squad...
  
  Luke had thought that once they reached the Underworld, the plans of Jackson would become more...okay, perhaps 'more serious' had been a pious and vain hope, but certainly a bit more cautious and somewhat less crazy.
  
  They were in Hell, after all...the Underworld, the Afterlife, or whatever name you gave it.
  
  Yes, he was a son of Hermes, but it didn't mean the operation to recover the Master Bolt and the Trident had to be a succession of catastrophes engineered by Jackson. In his mind, the Councillor had imagined there would be a few days where they would avoid the Lord of Darkness' patrols, then sneak into his castle. The majority of the Questers in that scenario would create an impressive diversion - as the races of the Circus Maximus had proved, it shouldn't be too difficult - and Luke in the meanwhile would exploit the opportunity to steal back the precious symbols of power. Afterwards it would be a race to return to the Labyrinth's Gate before Hades could incinerate them, which promised to be...non-trivial.
  
  But it was a reasonable plan, he thought.
  
  He should have known this wasn't going to fly, no pun intended, with a mad Demigod at the helm.
  
  "Jackson, we have angered an ever-rising number of lesser and greater deities per our actions since this Great Quest started. Is it really...weird to think angering one of the Big Three is suicidal?"
  
  "The Lord of Thunder is already mad at me, you know."
  
  Damn it, so much for this argument...
  
  "Besides, I have yet to hear a solution explaining how you intend to travel two thousand kilometres with nothing but a pair of shoes. This is half a world away, you know."
  
  "I could maybe create a magical carpet," the sorceress of the group suggested. "Maybe...if had the materials..."
  
  "As much as I am curious to see the result," the son of Poseidon had surprisingly taken an expression a...supportive stance? "We don't have the time...or the materials for your idea, my ambitious sorceress."
  
  "Because drowning the Underworld is? Why do you think it will solve anything?" Jake Mason brayed.
  
  "I thought it was evident, my unfaithful donkey," Perseus Jackson grinned. "Since we can't use a flying chariot and going on foot is too slow, we will go by ship."
  
  "There are no ships in hell! ARGH!" Annabeth exclaimed before returning to her very worrying mutterings about arachnids and weaving.
  
  "Clarisse? Cares to explain to the Suicide Squad what the Toll of Defeat is?"
  
  "It is the price in souls and destroyed military equipment the losers of each conflict must offer to my father," the daughter of Ares bared her teeth. "Warships are included, of course. I suppose something similar occurs with the Lord of the Underworld?"
  
  "Yes, let's call it...the Toll of Darkness. Asterius here found one of these warships, and I am confident that if we drown the Fields of Asphodel, I can commandeer the ship and reach the Dark Palace before the Solstice and our water run out."
  
  "It's stupid." Zoë Nightshade grumbled. "Asphodel is limitless...or as big as the world of the mortals. There's no way a mere lake or a small source of subterranean water will do anything."
  
  "My dear Zulu, do you really think my plan rely on pushing an ephemeral acid lake or an insignificant body of foul liquid from its riverbed? I intend to flood the Fields of Asphodel with the Phlegethon."
  
  "You're insane!"
  
  "You're mad!"
  
  "Compliments will not convince me to change my plan."
  
  These were not...oh Dionysus' grapes, forget it.
  
  "The Phlegethon," Luke tried weakly, hoping his hears had suffered malfunctions, despite knowing it wasn't the case. "One of the seven great rivers of the Underworld."
  
  "Also known as the river of flames," Perseus Jackson confirmed.
  
  "How would we even do that?" Ethan Nakamura said with a frown darker than usual. "We don't have any big machines to force a small river to take a detour away from its riverbed, and the...that river is rumoured to be only dominated in width and fury than the one everyone swears unbreakable oaths upon. Do you have a new spell to teach to Blackstone to achieve that?"
  
  "No, I do not." Before their expressions of 'we don't believe you, the son of Poseidon coughed. "Fine, I have spells which might be useful. But this is a divine river, and using powerful magic so close to it would be...counter-indicated. No, we are going to act in a more...judicious way. There is an enormous dam not far from here. Like a lot of similar infrastructure across the Hells, it prevents any of the great rivers from inundating the zones where former mortal souls of men and women remain."
  
  The grin was expected...and the words were of course the ones every Quester dreaded.
  
  "We are going to blow it up."
  
  "This is vandalising the possessions of one of the Big Three!" Annabeth intervened.
  
  "Yes, it is. Where is the problem?"
  
  Someone...someone not crazy would have acknowledged it was a major issue.
  
  This time though, Luke had a very real argument to raise his voice against the whole plan.
  
  "Jackson. If this dam was built and prevents a river of hell from flooding Asphodel, it is evidently critical to the security of the Underworld. And if it is a vital strategic location, it will be heavily guarded."
  
  "Not that much," the son of Poseidon disagreed fast. "The souls of the departed can't exactly sabotage anything, so the Rich One is only rotating a guardian with the authority to summon some skeleton warriors."
  
  "A guardian," Dakota repeated. "What sort of guardian?"
  
  "A warrior of the old times, short one," because of course it was the Minotaur who answered. "Odysseus was the last."
  
  "Odysseus...like Odysseus of Ithaca, famous for the Trojan Horse and his ten long years of wandering to go back home?"
  
  "Yes," the green-eyed son of Poseidon. "He is a reasonable man and his patron in life was Her Owlishness, so I'm quite confident we will be able to convince him of the righteousness of our intentions."
  
  There was so many things wrong in this sentence that Luke didn't how where he should begin...
  
  "If nothing changed, if the Master of the Underworld has not rotated him out, it should be incredibly easy to break the dam."
  
  "And if we are unlucky?"
  
  23 May 2006, the Phlegethon Dam, the Underworld
  
  "We are definitely unlucky."
  
  Perseus allowed himself a good laugh when Luke muttered the words.
  
  "Luck has nothing to do with it...my loyal and heroic lieutenant." The son of Poseidon clicked the fingers of his right hand. "There's not a month remaining until the ultimatum of the Olympians expires. Someone has decided to deploy the strongest assets to the critical strongholds and strategic locations of the Underworld."
  
  And the 'Phlegethon Dam' certain qualified.
  
  The construction was not very large - the gorge it was blocking was far too narrow to make the expense worth it - but it was extremely high, close to three hundred metres above the plains of Asphodel, by his best estimate. Given how dangerous the seven rivers of Hell were, Perseus didn't blame Hades for taking precautions, but still, it was...inconvenient.
  
  Asterius had described him the dam in detail, but the Minotaur was alas not a brilliant conversationalist, and the son of Poseidon admitted he had let the condescension he felt towards the Gods colour a little his judgement. After seeing the artistic abominations Zeus and other Olympians regularly commissioned - recent modern painting and sculptures were truly insults against everything sacred - he had expected to find a seemingly impressive obstacle that a good detonation would destroy without requiring a second blast.
  
  This had been too optimistic. The dam was a wall of black stone, violent shadows, and monstrous enchantments. Not basing his strategy on a spell cast by a child of Hecate had been, with the benefit of hindsight, quite a good idea. This way he had enough explosives to deal with the dam, despite having underestimated it.
  
  Bad news: they had to find an abandoned road after making a very large detour, and time, this great enemy, was continuing its implacable march.
  
  But now they were two hundred metres away from the 'rampart' the top of the dam was proving to be. And thanks to the numerous volcanic explosions and the...various fiery manifestations of the Phlegethon, they had not been detected.
  
  "Oh?" The dark-haired son of Nemesis coughed. "If there's no luck, maybe you will explain to us how you intend to keep busy Achilles while we sabotage the dam!
  
  "Honestly, my treacherous lieutenant, has someone told you your priorities are in the wrong order?"
  
  "He. Is. Achilles."
  
  "Yes, yes, I heard you the first time...and I had recognised him minutes ago." Seriously, it wasn't like there were many warriors of the old time who dared bearing the colours of this Hero of the Trojan War...and most didn't wear long and steely enchanted boots. Why, it was like his fatal weakness was in his heels...pun absolutely intended. "But he is a single man."
  
  "A single man? Jackson the man killed thousands!"
  
  "In ten years of a war which saw countless battles against Hector and the armies of Troy. And should we push him off in the Phlegethon, he would be incapacitated for hours. No, the main annoyance caused by his presence is the fact he can and will summon skeleton warriors if we prove too cunning for him."
  
  "Too strong for him, you mean."
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, there's a reason I didn't take Asterius and five members of the Suicide Squad with us. Strength is something Achilles has an abundance of. But a master strategist he is definitely not."
  
  "Err...let's say you are right. Let's say...you manage to somehow convince him to not summon the warriors of the Dark One. This is still Achilles. The misfortune curses of my mother will be useless against him. The protection he gained when he was a baby-"
  
  "The Curse," the son of Poseidon corrected him automatically.
  
  "It made him invincible, Jackson."
  
  "It is a strange invincibility for a man to die of an arrow in his heel after a mere ten years of war don't you think? And yes, this is a curse. Is there no one at Camp Byzantium who ever wondered why there aren't more Great Quests to bathe in a certain divine river?"
  
  "Because it is in the Underworld and the brother of the senior Olympians is not known for letting people escape his realm alive or dead?"
  
  "There is that," the former Tyrant admitted. "And the 'bath' is extremely dangerous, I won't pretend otherwise. But the Curse does not make you invincible, Achilles is proof of that. If you want to survive the experience, you have to keep a part of mortality inside you, the infamous...Achilles' heel. And in exchange, it will exacerbate all your passions...and your weaknesses."
  
  "Achilles has no weaknesses." Jake Mason brayed. Perseus smiled. Both for the comical aspect of the Quest and his knowledge in explosives, it had been extremely important to place the transformed son of Hephaestus in the 'break the dam' group. After all these years, the ex-Tyrant had been able to discern the patterns for the Demigods were not the same as the Named of Calernia, but in doubt, always keep a comic relief close to you.
  
  "Of course he has. How do you think the Trojans were able to nearly throw down the Achaeans into the sea?"
  
  "Pride," the son of Hermes declared.
  
  "A woman," Perseus said cheerfully, turning his head and nodding as the daughter of Aphrodite left the cover of the rock she had used to discard her armour.
  
  "Don't say a word," Drew Tanaka growled as she passed next to him.
  
  "I am not saying a word." The son of Poseidon raised his eyebrows and the Charmspeak-user flushed red. The black-haired beauty was more powerful than the fragile thing which had left New Byzantium, but she had a lot of progress to do before developing her full potential. "In all seriousness, if you don't feel doing this, I have a contingency plan."
  
  The other members of the group finally stopped gaping and-
  
  "You're not serious, you can't send Tanaka half-naked against Achilles!"
  
  The heroic values of Luke Castellan were definitely strong, it had to be said. Though 'half-naked' wasn't a bad description, to be honest. The only thing the Asian-looking Demigoddess wore was a silver robe over her body, and it was more a transparent silvery nightgown than anything destined to wear in public. She had the Belt and her sandals, a golden brooch for her hair...and nothing else.
  
  "Thank you Jackson, but I am going to do it. Time to see if I can seduce a hero, no?"
  
  And the daughter of Aphrodite began to descend the large black stairs leading to the dam...and their 'invincible protector'.
  
  "Jackson, please tell me this isn't the entirety of your plan." Luke pleaded.
  
  "It wasn't my plan at all," the son of Poseidon didn't stop watching Drew Tanaka... if he was wrong, he would have to activate one of his contingencies very, very fast. "Odysseus is not a man known for engaging into adulterous affairs. But he is not here, so I had to...improvise."
  
  "This is sheer folly!"
  
  "You prefer to fight Achilles, sword in hand, my treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "No, but...but Tanaka has no chance of seducing him! He may have a weakness for women, but it was after the battles fought under the walls of Troy! The moment he sees her, he will know there's something wrong and sound the alarm!"
  
  "That's why I gave her the Belt of Briseis."
  
  "You gave her what?"
  
  "Achilles, kiss me."
  
  Perseus cackled as the 'legendary hero', who had been literally as immobile as a statue since he saw Drew Tanaka approach, removed his helmet and obeyed the command.
  
  If Perseus had to judge the 'performance', he would say Charmspeak might have been not necessary to achieve that result.
  
  Operation aside, the faces of Ethan, Luke, Miranda, and Jason as Achilles and the seductress did their best to suck the tongue of the other out? Priceless. The instant-photos were going to sell extremely well...especially those of the donkey's astonished expression.
  
  "But...but...she can't..." Luke said weakly as Achilles abandoned his heavy weapons, shield, and most equipment to carry the daughter of Aphrodite bridal-style towards the small fort which was undoubtedly the residence of the dam's guardian.
  
  "She can." Perseus cackled louder, something which at last attracted him plenty of angry glares. He didn't care. "My seductive lieutenant has achieved her mission, now yours can begin! Hurry up, I do not pay you to gawk and standing idle..."
  
  "Technically Jackson, you don't pay us at all!"
  
  "Details, my treacherous lieutenant, details..."
  
  24 May 2006, the Phlegethon Dam, the Underworld
  
  The loud explosion was her first clue the plan had worked...and it was time to go.
  
  Drew nonetheless caressed the muscular torso and several other incredible parts of the warrior anatomy before leaving the bed.
  
  "You have touched everything you wanted, oh daughter of Aphrodite?"
  
  He didn't manage to make her blush or give her a feeling of unease.
  
  "I should return you the question, hero. You didn't exactly need a lot of incentives to touch me."
  
  In fact, aside from the first order to kiss her, the Charmspeak orders had been far and few between, and were mostly given when someone brayed loudly outside - the donkey was going to pay for that.
  
  "I was taken hostage."
  
  The fifteen-years-old seductress gave him a disbelieving look...which didn't vanish when the sheets were thrown aside to reveal the masculine perfection that was the hero of the Trojan War.
  
  "I want to think you preferred my company to guarding the dam."
  
  "You aren't wrong," Gods, this smile of bad boy was roguish and almost tempted her to-
  
  A new explosion resonated, and the ground shook under her naked feet.
  
  Faster than she could say it, Achilles was behind her, his lips touching her neck.
  
  "But you have the Belt of Briseis too. And it is a little known fact I swore to never hurt a woman carrying it as long as she prove to be not my enemy."
  
  Had Jackson known? Of course he must have. The infuriating son of Poseidon seemed to know everything...especially details few Demigods discovered even after dozens of major Quests.
  
  Achilles sighed loudly.
  
  "Hades...or whoever will end up in charge of the post of overseer...is really going to make me pay for failing to defend the dam, unfortunately."
  
  The black-haired Demigoddess took his right hand in hers.
  
  "You could come with us." Jackson had not suggested anything of the sort, but she somehow doubted he would refuse if she recruited Achilles.
  
  "Is it the Belt of Briseis speaking or your heart?" the dream of all girls in masculine form asked before smirking at her incomprehension. "Ah, I see the one who gave it to you didn't explain all the powers of the object."
  
  "I know it can only be worn by a daughter of Aphrodite...like Briseis."
  
  "It is only the least impressive of its powers," the vanquisher of Prince Hector murmured as he pressed himself against her. "When you threw yourself into my arms-"
  
  "You didn't exactly protest," Drew retorted but Achilles ignored her.
  
  "-and did what you did, the Belt gave you a little increase in strength and skill, at the price of being cursed with more tender feelings for the one you tried to seduce." The warrior smiled. "The blessings of Aphrodite always cut both ways."
  
  Drew didn't feel like it was bad deal at all...it wasn't like the man she had distracted while the others sabotaged the dam was ugly or repulsive.
  
  "But no, I won't come with you...Drew." Hearing her name spoken by these lips gave her feelings she had never felt at Byzantium. Damn it, less than a day wasn't enough to truly fall in love someone...was it? "I have people I care about in the Underworld, and while failing to defend the dam can be blamed on the Belt of Briseis, outright opposition to the Gods is treason and will be punished as such. Should I escape this realm, it will be my friends and my family who will pay the price...and Thanatos is a relentless hunter. He won't be discouraged by my abilities."
  
  Acting faster than her eyes could follow again, his lips met hers and the contact was everything she had dreamed for several years. Maybe it was the Belt speaking...and maybe not.
  
  A finger touched it, and a word of power was uttered by the Greek warrior.
  
  In an instant, the white armour she had removed hours ago was back on her, as was all her equipment...but the Belt was still here, and suddenly she felt...stronger. Stronger and filled with confidence she didn't have.
  
  "We will meet again, lover. Now go, your fellow Questers must wait for you."
  
  As more thunderous explosions and a noise to literally wake up the dead growled everywhere, Drew recognised the truth in these words and ran out...in time to see a gigantic piece of dark stone as tall as a small mountain from the barrage be torn apart from what had been an impressive monument ordered by Hades. More followed in short order, and the dam explosion after explosion ceased to be.
  
  And from each hole the river of flames known as the Phlegethon roared in fury, free for the first time since the Gods ruled. Free to flow through the ruin of the gigantic dam, and to flood Asphodel.
  
  "You took your sweet time," the red donkey brayed.
  
  "Shut up, Jake."
  
  "You know, a donkey's nose is far superior to a human, and I smell him everywhere on you, and I say-"
  
  "In case you forgot, food supplies are limited." Her long black hair flew in the wind as the destruction continued and the rare winds of Hell no doubt informed the Lord of the Underworld of the massive act of vandalism Jackson had imagined and the rest of the Squad had participated in. "And I wouldn't say no if someone proposed a donkey steak..."
  
  24 May 2006, flooded Fields of Asphodel, the Underworld
  
  It was a time of apocalypse. If it wasn't, Dakota had no idea what would deserve the name.
  
  They had heard the explosions, the roar of malevolent joy...then the waves of fire had come.
  
  The Phlegethon was known to be a river of flames, but there was a difference between knowing it and seeing it unleashed against the plains of the dead.
  
  A normal river, even a powerful one, would have lost strength by now, or the overflow made possible by the dam would have disappeared, making sure there were no second or third waves.
  
  But the Phlegethon was no normal river, and with the dam destroyed, it was as if millennia spent seething in rage were at last unleashed in a series of cataclysms which truly deserved the name tsunami.
  
  Jackson - and their Quest members, one couldn't forget it - had done what no hero or rebellious Demigod had done; they had altered the very aspect of Hell.
  
  The Phlegethon didn't seem to stop pouring more liquid-flame into Asphodel, and while carrion birds of unnatural size had tried to attack them before Lou Ellen massacred them with one spell, there had been no divine reaction to the disaster-level event.
  
  And that meant that right now, the liquid-flame levels, far from returning to non-existence, were continuing to rise at the bottom of the tortured hill where they had dug up one of the Minotaur's caches and were waiting for the other half of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "The Big Three aren't going to be happy with us..." The son of Bacchus grimaced.
  
  "Only the Big Three?" Clarisse laughed hysterically. "Jackson drowned Asphodel under the flames of an infernal river! Except my father, everyone is going to be very angry!"
  
  Left unsaid, if he could do that to a domain of the Big Three, why wouldn't he do it somewhere else?
  
  "He broke a marvel of architecture," Annabeth sneered evilly. "On my honour of spider's soul, I swear he deserves whatever will happen to him!"
  
  For those who wondered, the daughter of Athena's sanity hadn't returned, thank you for worrying about it.
  
  "Never mind that. We can worry about the Olympians when we will get out of the Underworld..." if they ever got out, because after everything Jackson had done, Hades was going to be in a murderous rage. The souls of the Asphodel weren't dead, but now they were trying to float and shrieked in anger.
  
  Imagine an ocean the colour of blood, perpetually in flames. Now add it millions or tens of millions of arms raised and an infernal cacophony of shades' angry and traumatized screams.
  
  It was a very disturbing spectacle, though the correct word for it might be 'horrific'.
  
  "Where is our ship?"
  
  As if waiting only the question to be uttered - and by that point, Dakota wouldn't even be surprised if that was the case - a gigantic maelstrom formed not far from their point of observation surrounded by liquid-flame.
  
  And from it a massive warship straight from the Age of Sail emerged. It was like the hull was propelled by the infernal currents.
  
  "Does...are you hearing the same music I do?"
  
  "Yes..."
  
  It was suddenly like an orchestra had decided to play...just as they were able to observe the monumental sail ship which had arrived from nowhere.
  
  And near the top of the biggest mast, of course, was Perseus Jackson, grinning like the maniac he was.
  
  Because who else would consider stealing a massive hull with three masts and dozens of dangerous cannons from the Lord of Hell?
  
  "SUICIDE SQUAD! I OFFICIALLY DECLARE THE START OF THE PHLEGETHON REGATTA!"
  
  This was really a competition no member of an Olympic committee would ever approve...
  
  "Welcome, Demigoddesses and Demigods, aboard the Indomptable, ship of the line of the second rank, eighty guns, two decks, Tonnant-class, formerly of the Imperial French Navy!" Jackson made a few grand bows and curtsies for the next ten seconds. "We have a serious problem."
  
  "You mean, aside from the fact we have transformed Asphodel into a sea of flames and stolen one of the warships the Rich One tithed from the Napoleonic Wars?"
  
  "Yes, my treacherous lieutenant, aside from that."
  
  "Is it about the fact we are sailing on a sea of flames and that mortal wood isn't going to survive long?" Annabeth Chase questioned with derision.
  
  "No, I've placed an artefact below your feet which prevents that sort of nasty problem from happening. Now-"
  
  "Is it about Drew Tanaka fucking Achilles?"
  
  "She did what?" The son of Bacchus spilled his Kool-Aid and coughed violently.
  
  "I don't even know why I'm even surprised," Lou Ellen sighed.
  
  "Your punishment is going to be remembered for eternity once this Quest is over," Zoë Nightshade said.
  
  "Why?" The daughter of Aphrodite raised her eyebrows and made a rude gesture in return. "In case you forget, our insane leader just made sure we replaced Asphodel by a sea of flames. Either the Gods will kill us for that, or they won't. Whether I took a lover or not isn't going to matter...besides who will punish me? The Olympians are paragons of marital virtue...oh wait, they aren't."
  
  The Huntress glared at the Asian-looking Demigoddess, who glared back, evidently unimpressed. Ethan frowned. There was something different about the daughter of Aphrodite now. Something...he wasn't able to properly describe.
  
  "Now that the girls have finished gossiping-"
  
  "WE ARE-"
  
  "Be quiet." Charmspeak was really a terrifying weapon for a charismatic speaker. "As I was saying, we have a significant problem. I have reasons to believe the throne of the Underworld is currently empty."
  
  For once, there was no grin, no mad expression which screamed 'I am lying to you with pleasure'.
  
  "Ridiculous," the blonde daughter of Athena scoffed. "The Lord of the Underworld is as powerful as his brothers, and in his realm even more so. Who would have the power to invade his domain when his armies are guarding all entrances and exits?"
  
  "That's the question, isn't it?" The green-eyed son of Poseidon shook his head before his face took a dark expression. "To be particularly blunt, the affair stinks, Annabeth. The moment the dam was destroyed and the Phlegethon was freed from its former riverbed, we lost the effect of surprise and the Underworld King should have located us without effort. I would still have the advantage, being naturally proficient at naval warfare while he isn't, but the moment this happened, we still should have been under constant all-out attacks. Yet aside a few isolated enemies here and there, there isn't any opposition worth talking about."
  
  "Isn't it possible that your plan to go through the Labyrinth surprised it more than you accounted for?" the black-haired son of Bacchus had returned to his flask of Kool-Aid after the vigorous exchanges of opinion. "If neither Caligula nor the Immortal Sorceress warned him, member of the Big Three or not, he will need several days to transfer several armies to Asphodel..."
  
  "Dakota, a God is his domain; unless most of its power, influence, and focus are elsewhere, the ties go so deep that for the Lord of the Underworld to not locate us would require him to be deaf, blind, and actively try to stay that way for as long we are here. No. There are only two possible reasons why we aren't under enemy attack after what we've done. One: the Lord of Darkness is playing with us; he has decided it's better for us to exhaust ourselves on our way to reach his Dark Palace. Two: the eldest brother of the Thunderous Aggressive Braggart isn't in a position to smite us. The former is the sadistic option. The latter means the entire series of incidents since the Winter Solstice is a trap whose sole goal is to provoke a civil war between different factions of Olympus...and we're in the middle of it."
  
  The grin was back mere seconds after.
  
  "Isn't life wonderful?"
  
  The noise of the anchor being levitated by Jackson's power and the sails being unfurled the same way - it was like the winds and the flames around them obeyed the madman's gestures - almost prevented the screams of outrage from arriving to his ears...almost.
  
  If there was something that Zoë hated more than staying in company of male teenagers for too long, it was staying on a ship commanded by a person she didn't trust and whose resistance to the seas was questionable at best.
  
  The Huntress of Artemis logically loathed the current situation. The ship commander was a boy she had a thousand good reasons to distrust, there were many more males aboard, and the girls present were either crazy or lost forever to the influence of Lady Artemis. If she had the choice, she would have barricaded herself in one of the cabins until they reached the end of the new sea Jackson had created.
  
  A new sea. In Hell. It should be impossible, but the Phlegethon was everywhere, it was deep enough to let a ship like the Indomptable sail without issues of navigation.
  
  "Jackson we must...what are you wearing, by the Hunt's arrows?"
  
  The treacherous son of Poseidon still wore his black armour, but he had added a bright orange coat of the eighteenth century over it. The result was...it was hurting her eyes. And there was...no, no and no.
  
  "Is that a pirate hat?"
  
  "It is a pirate tricorn." The mad boy smiled. "And it is Captain Jackson, my huntress lieutenant."
  
  "I am not your huntress lieutenant!"
  
  "I note you didn't deny the 'Captain' part..."
  
  Zoë closed her eyes and counted to ten, hoping that when her vision was restored, all of it would prove to be a terrible and short-timed hallucination.
  
  Alas, the nightmare refused to end when she stared at the damned spawn of the Sea God.
  
  "Enough."
  
  "But we haven't begun anything! Who's a good dog? That's a good dog!"
  
  While she had been...trying to keep her sanity, Jackson had turned towards all his gargoyles - which had volunteered to become a pitiful crew - and then proceeded to give caresses and...cookies to his new pet Hellhound.
  
  "You are giving cookies to the Hellhound?"
  
  "I must give her something she will digest...and these biscuits are excellent for an animal which will grow a lot...I think. I left my copy of How to raise your Hellhound for Dummies at New Byzantium."
  
  "This book doesn't exist."
  
  "Of course it does! But I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. Mostly everything which is about monstrous education or training isn't sent to the Huntresses of Artemis. You are on the ban list of all interesting libraries."
  
  "All traitor-affiliated libraries, you mean."
  
  Jackson shrugged.
  
  "See? That's the sort of inflexible mentality nobody likes!"
  
  "Enough." Damn it, he had almost forced her to lose track of the topic she wanted to speak about. "The medallion of the Roman incestuous whore. Give it back. Now."
  
  "Why are you saying 'give it back', pray tell? It never belonged to you."
  
  "It belongs to Lady Artemis-"
  
  "Wrong, it is the power of Selene." The son of Poseidon interrupted her. "And this is a precious object forged via the arcane methods of the Roman Demigods and Demigoddesses. You are part of the Greek pantheon. Either way, your claim of ownership is null."
  
  "The same can be said about yours."
  
  "I took it from its owner." Zoë really, really didn't like the glint in those treacherous eyes. "I did all the work and saved the day when your anger and your lack of judgement almost lead the Suicide Squad to disaster and death. Let's call that...the Right of Thievery!"
  
  The immortal Huntress wondered what sort of madness had led a single God to believe Jackson shouldn't be executed at once. She just prayed it wasn't a contagious disease.
  
  "Lady Artemis and the Hunt have a greater claim to it."
  
  "No, they don't." Perseus countered. "Selene was the full moon before the twins decided it was better for the competition to be removed. Artemis was the crescent before she claimed the full mantle. Both were archers, but the Titaness was not a virgin, she was fully associated with the silver shades, and she certainly didn't have any kinship with the wild animals. Selene's Roman name is Luna, in case you didn't know."
  
  "I knew it, I was alive when the Roman Empire conquered...everything!"
  
  "You must have hated the period," Jackson commented. "There are many good things about Roman culture that you will-"
  
  "Stop. I don't want to hear you anymore. Give me the medallion, I will protect it until I meet Lady Artemis again."
  
  "This is an awful idea." The green eyes looked back at her with pity. "There is a reason why I didn't give it back to you. In her persona of Neo Selene, Caligula's sister imbued the medallion to strike at you. If you touch it-"
  
  "I am protected by Lady Artemis and her power is far stronger than this treacherous incest-loving woman. The medallion, now, or I will make sure Artemis will kill you the moment we leave the Underworld!"
  
  "You wound me terribly." Jackson breathed out in what had to be fake sadness. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
  
  With the rapidity of a snake - which was likely the animal he was in a previous life - the medallion was thrown in her direction fast but Zoë caught it instinctively in her right hand.
  
  Pain erupted in her body a heartbeat later.
  
  The servant of Artemis screamed in pain.
  
  And for a second the ship and the ocean of flames surrounding them disappeared.
  
  The Circus Maximus of Caligula was around her. She saw the woman who dared trying usurp her Goddess' throne and duties.
  
  "This is really unexpected," the Huntress heard the Roman whore giggle, "Thank the son of Poseidon for me, my Huntress..."
  
  What happened next was not uttered in any language known to man, and yet Zoë understood it. It was...agonising.
  
  The Moon. Neo Selene. Luna. The Moon. Neo Selene. Luna. The Moon. Neo Selene. Luna. The Titaness of the Moon calls you to serve. The Moon. Neo Selene. Luna
  
  Ten thousand flashes of silver light struck her. The Roman buildings and the Labyrinth disappeared again.
  
  Zoë Nightshade screamed and screamed...and then she found herself back on the upper deck of the warship sailing the new Asphodel Sea.
  
  Her eyes blinked and suddenly felt weak...but not enough to not notice a heavy chain of silver light fading in the air.
  
  The next second, she screamed in horror. Her clothes of Huntress were missing. The clothes which had been her attire for several decades were gone. And to her shock, the replacement clothes...it was a silver armour akin to those worn by Roman legionnaires, except it was entirely silver, lighter, shining with the power of the moon, and espousing the forms of her body as to reveal everything. And as she tried to remove it as fast as she could, Zoë despaired, because the metallic gloves allowing an archer to use the dexterity of all his finger, the lorica, and the rest of the clothes like the silver boots were stuck to her.
  
  This was...this was-
  
  "At the risk of sounding immature..." Perseus Jackson cleared his throat, and at this moment, Zoë truly wanted to kill the boy, as much as she wanted to sever the balls of Heracles. "I told you beforehand it was a bad idea."
  
  The Huntress of Artemis screamed in anger.
  
  The Hellhound took it as a sign she wanted to play with her and began to lick her face with her disgusting tongue. And it smelled like cookies.
  
  "Jackson, whatever game you're playing, please stop."
  
  Luke should have said it far earlier, not when they were on a sea of tortured souls and fire, but now it was an absolute necessity.
  
  "Which game are you referring to? I am playing a lot of them you know. I am a chessmaster, a professional poker player, a-
  
  "I'm referring to what you did to Zoë Nightshade."
  
  "Oh," the blonde-haired Quester was not naive enough to think the word was filled with embarrassment. "I'm not playing any games with her."
  
  "Bullshit," this was a stronger answer he wanted to make, but with Jackson, it was necessary. "She's been staying in her cabin since you changed her clothes in this ridiculous-"
  
  "-and sexy..."
  
  "and...se...no! This isn't the question! You are responsible for this!"
  
  "I am not!" the son of Poseidon replied calmly, drinking a cup filled with apple juice. "I will remind you that our dear huntress threatened me and promised me a long and painful death if I did not give her the medallion of Julia Drusilla. I insisted it was a bad idea, but she refused to listen to my warnings. So tell me, Lawrence..." the grin had little joy in it, but it was as mad as ever, "can I be guilty when I do everything in my power to protect someone and the idiotic girl still tries to plunge her hand into the trap?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "You're no fun at all, my heroic lieutenant!" the younger Demigod complained.
  
  "Lady Artemis is going to kill you, you know. Especially...what is going to happen to Nightshade anyway?"
  
  Perseus Jackson shrugged.
  
  "For the short-term? Absolutely nothing."
  
  "Nothing?" Luke didn't believe it for a single second.
  
  "Nothing, don't look at me like that, Lysander," the green-eyed mad boy threw a cookie to the Hellhound, generating panic in the rank of the gargoyles trampled by the salivating monster. "We are in the Underworld. The influence of the Moon, or any real power not affiliated with Death and Hell for that matter, is really negligible here. The power of the medallion was barely sufficient to forge a link between the Huntress and Neo Selene and give her a fashionable new look. I'm really surprised it was able to change Zoë Nightshade so much, to be honest."
  
  Luke watched the Demigod who had changed Asphodel in this hellish sea deliberately. For once, the son of Poseidon seemed sincere...as sincere as a trickster like him could be.
  
  "Why?"
  
  "At the risk of saying the obvious, Zoë Nightshade is a millennia-old Huntress. Her allegiance to the Goddess of the Hunt and her hatred of boys is unquestionable. Moreover, she's not a mere huntress. Nightshade is the chief lieutenant of the God of Music's twin. In profane words, the blessings and boons granted by the divine power of an Olympian are strong in her."
  
  "Yet when she touched the medallion, she changed."
  
  "Indeed," Jackson approved. "And it raises interesting questions. I'm rather confident Julia Drusilla is far weaker than the Goddess she wishes to usurp right now. It's not like you claim crumbs of a Titaness' power is going to make you the equal of an Olympian, the world doesn't work like that. It isn't that she is better known or more worshipped. It isn't...well, I don't intend to list everything. But let me assure you, Castellan, the fact Nightshade got this silver armour instead of her Huntress clothes shouldn't have happened."
  
  "And yet it did...and I have a feeling you are responsible."
  
  "You wound me." The exaggerated protestation and theatrical performance didn't incite Luke to believe Jackson. "I am-"
  
  "You aren't loyal to Olympus, don't try to pretend otherwise. Why did it happen, if you weren't involved?"
  
  "I can only make guesses..."
  
  "Then your best guesses."
  
  "Fine, fine," the green-eyed boy muttered as he petted the Hellhound. "In my opinion, it's a combination of two factors. Above all, the Goddess of Wild Animals must have intermingled the domains of the Moon and the Hunt far more than it should be reasonable. Because our dear huntress guardian shouldn't have a chink in her soul-armour, so to speak, if she wasn't tied to the Moon itself."
  
  "And the second factor?"
  
  "The Moon prefers the claim of Julia Drusilla in her personality of Neo Selene to the Goddess currently holding said power."
  
  "The Moon itself?"
  
  "Is it that surprising?" Perseus Jackson seemed rather...sincere. "To claim a domain, you have to be attuned to it. Do you think my father would be a fine God of the Oceans if he hated swimming?"
  
  Evidently, when he put it like that...
  
  "No."
  
  "No," the infuriating Demigod repeated before chuckling. "It is the same way for every God in existence...and those who wished to follow in their steps. You can't be a good God of Music if trying to play an instrument of music is a torture for you. You won't be a competent Goddess of Family if you want to be left alone and isolated. A deity must be attuned to their domain so that they influence the power and their worshippers through it. If they don't..."
  
  For some reason, the last three words scared Luke more than the rest of the speech.
  
  "This is still very hypothetical. And I note you only spoke for the short-term."
  
  "By short-term, I mean as long as we stay in the Underworld. Titaness or Goddess of the Moon, their powers are negligible here. Once we leave it...well, I suppose will find out in due time. It's half of the fun, I think."
  
  "You're utterly crazy."
  
  "And everyone loves me for it."
  
  Luke frowned. 'Loving' was not the word he would have used...'exasperating' was far more apt.
  
  "You realise, of course, that Olympus' suspicions are-"
  
  "KRAKEN!" Ethan Nakamura shouted from his position high up in the masts. "WE HAVE A KRAKEN AT STARBOARD!"
  
  "Ah," Perseus smirked, the madman. "So there is someone in command of Hell...and he or she has a sense of humour."
  
  "Humour?" Luke asked as the leader of the Suicide Squad grabbed a ridiculously big spyglass from the pockets of his orange Napoleonic uniform.
  
  "This is the monster which was ordered to devour Princess Andromeda several millennia ago, Liam. A monster which was killed by a hero called Perseus, if the myths can be trusted."
  
  This was incredibly dark humour, if the son of Poseidon was right.
  
  "Asterius! Hoist the black flag! Spider-Chase! Add some sails, I don't care if you weave them yourself! We are going to challenge this mass of tentacles to a race it will remember for the rest of its stay in Hell!"
  
  "You don't want to fight it?"
  
  Something erupted from the sea of flames about...a kilometre away. It was extremely huge. It had spiked tentacles and a gigantic maw everywhere. And it looked passably angry.
  
  And as the seconds, as more of its body was revealed...the monster was definitely bigger than the second-rank ship of the line that Jackson had stolen somewhere.
  
  "If you want to fight it, my heroic lieutenant, I won't try to stop you...I will insist you swim to reach it, though. This ship is a bit fragile, and for some reason which escapes me, the insurance companies refused all the contracts I sent their way..."
  
  25 May 2006, the 'Asphodel Sea', the Underworld
  
  "You looked tired, Jackson."
  
  "Nonsense, my dear sorceress. I am in the best health of my life!" And not a second later, the son of Poseidon yawned before adding to it all the classic signs of exhaustion.
  
  "I see that." Lou Ellen replied. "Seriously, Jackson, you should rest."
  
  "I should mention that half of the speed of the Indomptable is due to my humble efforts," the green-eyed boy yawned again before petting absently the Hellhound he had 'purchased' in the Labyrinth. "If I go to my cabin and close my eyes, we are going to slow down very quickly...and our pursuer will catch up with us."
  
  Lou didn't need to ask what the son of the Earthshaker was talking about. The kraken had been for an entire hell-day a constant presence on this ocean of flames.
  
  "Isn't there a spell I could cast to replace you?"
  
  The daughter of Hecate wasn't willing to sell her life for Perseus Jackson, but past battles and insane events had proven the survival of the 'Suicide Squad' entirely depended upon him and his mad ideas. The more the scion of the God of Seas and Oceans was exhausted, the worse their chances were.
  
  "I appreciate it, but unfortunately," the black-haired Demigod grimaced, not bothering to hide its tiredness anymore, "hydrokinesis is far from a simple art. It's a Demigod talent reserved to the children of my father, and I haven't found a way to mimic it...yet. And while I can explain what I do, we are in pretty much the worst conditions to practise. The liquid-flame of the Phlegethon is fighting me every step of the way."
  
  "You could force this ship to go faster on a normal ocean?"
  
  "I could maintain the current speed while sleeping," Jackson corrected, adjusting his tricorn over his head. "Going faster...yes, we could do it, though it would put more strain upon the wooden hull. Something I am always reluctant to do. I don't want to go swimming in this new Asphodel Sea."
  
  "According to the myths, the Phlegethon River doesn't kill if you bathe or drink it." The young blonde-haired sorceress pointed out.
  
  "In the myths, the Phlegethon hadn't been infused by the shock with the billions of souls of Asphodel either," the mind behind said idea replied. "Some people accuse me of madness, but without a considerable number of lab rats to test the waters, I am not going to risk it. And obviously that means a conventional battle against this kraken which follows up is out of the question."
  
  "You do not desire emulating your namesake?" Lou joked.
  
  "Oh I do! But my predecessor and namesake had something I lack: the head of Medusa."
  
  The black-eyed Demigoddess blinked.
  
  "If the tales are true, the first Perseus killed the monster without using the petrifying power of the Gorgon's head."
  
  "Yes, yes, using nothing but his sword, Perseus the Brave dealt the monster a series of lethal blows which killed it and by it, saved the life of the beautiful Princess." The sarcasm was so evident it was kind of useless to ask if Jackson believed the story was true or not. "You have seen the kraken from afar. Do you really believe a single Demigod, even a son of Zeus, can triumph over it with a sword and a shield?"
  
  "No. At least not without divine help...or a monster's head to make the fight more equitable."
  
  "That's my opinion too," the son of Poseidon said, continuing to pet the enormous Hellhound by his side. "And before you ask, no, I don't know a spell which would turn the situation in our favour."
  
  "Couldn't the cannons be used to increase the power of our spells? Surely you modified them, right?"
  
  This time the - insane - warship's captain chuckled.
  
  "I'm beginning to enjoy the way you're thinking, but no, those are the original cannons of the Indomptable. I used Asterius' connections to remove the rust and make them serviceable again...that's everything I did."
  
  "That's all? I don't believe you."
  
  "My dear sorceress, the faith you have in my skills is not something I will discourage...but there's a limit of how many artefacts and special items I can requisition and buy while the Olympians have their back turned. And where the cannons are concerned, I have no direct access to the God of Smiths' forge-complexes. To order around what some Demigods call 'magi-tech', I need a support base...and since I was constantly on the run, it's a bit difficult to have one."
  
  For a few seconds, the facade of arrogance and perpetual infuriating behaviour seemed to weaken, and Lou Ellen saw beyond the wall of deception the Earthshaker's son had built around his soul. At this moment, he was just a lonely boy devoured by revenge and his tricks were everything left to him on a very dark path.
  
  Then the mask reasserted itself. But the blonde Demigoddess was sure of what she had been able to perceive.
  
  "Do you really think you can stay awake until the Kraken abandons the pursuit?"
  
  "I think I can," the yawn made after the words were uttered was not exactly reassuring. "It's that or you find me Medusa..."
  
  "In the middle of a sea of flames? I am a sorceress, not a miracle-maker..."
  
  26 May 2006, the Asphodel Sea, the Underworld
  
  Things had been going a bit too well this morning. The kraken had been nowhere in sight after the 'hell-night' - which was less a night and more a dark day shaken by monstrous red lightning and huge columns of smoke and the screams of souls in agony.
  
  There was a positive side to all of this: all Questers were convinced it was primordial to stay alive. Seeing how bad Hell was for the people who didn't achieve Elysium - even if Jackson had made it worse, obviously - Miranda Gardiner desperately wanted to go back to the normal world and live a plentiful life.
  
  The Underworld truly deserved the 'Hell' nicknames people gave it for millennia. It wasn't a nice place. It was better to stay alive as long as possible.
  
  And then a squadron of dead warriors riding skeleton-pegasi arrived in attack formation so fast the shout of alarms from Nakamura arrived after arrows and javelins were shredding the sails.
  
  "Oh, look," Jackson rushed out of his cabin...and why was he bothering taking this horror of orange uniform, by Olympus? "It's King Minable."
  
  This, of course, displeased considerably the leader of the shades.
  
  "IT'S KING MINOS, INSOLENT HERO!"
  
  "Minos, Minable, where's the difference?" Then Perseus Jackson grinned, which, as everyone knew it, was a really bad sign. "Unless...you're that Minos! Former husband of Queen Pasiphaë...who has long divorced you and established as a power in her own right while you played 'Judge of the Dead'!"
  
  "LIES! NOW DIE, INSOLENT HERO!"
  
  But this time Lou Ellen had drawn one of her spell-cards and incinerated several flying skeletons along with the riders, and suddenly the Minotaur jumped, delivering dozens of axe strikes whenever the enemies were in range. Miranda herself launched several acid-seeds, and as more and more Demigods joined the battle, it was soon a one-sided slaughter of skeletons and shades.
  
  "You didn't even bother greeting your stepson?" How could Jackson continue his banter as he observed the carnage from the Hellhound's back was a mystery for the ages. "Shame on you, ex-King of Crete!"
  
  "I AM THE TRUE KING! MY FATHER ZEUS GAVE ME THE ISLAND TO DO AS I DESIRE!"
  
  "Yes, as long as you live," the son of Poseidon joyously declared. "And you don't. In fact, you haven't breathed in millennia. And...sorry, are you sure you're a son of Zeus? You're really ugly, usually they tend to have far better looks than that!"
  
  Minos' shade was violently dismounted by the Minotaur of all...members of the Suicide Squad, and the seas' scion words were soon justified. Some Demigods and Demigoddesses weren't supermodels or anything approaching this level of beauty - Clarisse La Rue for example was pretty much at the other end of the spectrum - but the children of Zeus-Jupiter had in general in common fair looks and good genes, provided they trained correctly.
  
  Minos...the shade of the dead King had a terrible glare, but his ghostly body and his face were extremely unappealing to look at. Seriously, it was like a bandit had found a crown and a few impressive clothes under a bridge and was now trying to pass as a ruler.
  
  "I am going to take your life, sea-spawn!" the dead son of Zeus promised. "And once you are no more, my father will free me from this insipid job and allow me to rise to Olympus! So it has been promised, so it shall be!"
  
  "Ah, the promises of the Lord of the Skies..." Jackson said dreamingly. "There is only a small problem with it. Your father won't be able to convince anyone to let your soul ascend to a higher plane of existence if you are trapped into a weapon of Stygian iron."
  
  "Stygian iron is the property of children of the Dark One, fool!" Minos cackled. "Its forging is a secret known by few and the Lord of Underworld do not-"
  
  The shade brutally stopped as the insane boy had just drawn a small dagger from behind his clothes.
  
  And it wasn't made of Imperial Gold.
  
  "Please continue," Perseus Jackson said in a very ironic tone. "I am always ready to hear more about Stygian Iron."
  
  "How...how did you..."
  
  The black-haired Demigod could move with a frightening celerity when he felt like it, and this was the case right now. One stab, and the shade of Minos shrieked as the dagger seemed...no, there was no seemed, it absorbed the shade's essence.
  
  The defunct son of Zeus perished again, and if his screams were any indication, the process wasn't painless.
  
  "I wasn't joking about your wife divorcing you, by the way." The grin on his face was memorable and...okay, how could someone grin so much? "Now where were we?"
  
  Hundred of metres behind their sea transport, the liquid-flame exploded, and the kraken made its great return in its terrible glory, maws and tentacles included.
  
  "Ah yes, it was just a diversion to slow us down." Jackson sighed and threw the dagger of Stygian Iron with a surprising strength hundreds of metres away...right in one of the maws of the legendary monster. "Unfurl the sails and hold on to something, I am going to push the ship as hard as it can go to escape the kraken."
  
  "Was the dagger supposed to do something?" Miranda asked. It didn't seem to have done anything to the sea creature: the kraken was not injured from her post of observation.
  
  "Hmm...oh no! I just wanted to banish King Minable's soul for several centuries. As long as no one recovers the dagger, they won't able to extract his soul...I think the Immortal Sorceress will pay me nicely for that service."
  
  Yes, and Zeus was going to want Jackson dead yesterday for that insult and humiliation...but since he already wanted to kill him long before that...
  
  "Suicide Squad! To your duties, we have a kraken to taunt!"
  
  Of course he would say that...
  
  30 May 2006, edge of the new Asphodel Sea, the Underworld
  
  Before her mind was opened to the Truth, Annabeth believed Jackson was mad.
  
  After her mind was opened to the Truth, her illuminated soul still believed the son of Poseidon's skull had been slammed against a wall too many times. Jackson was truly insane.
  
  "Tourists, lieutenants, allies, we thank you profusely for having chosen Jackson Overseas International for your Grand Phlegethon Cruise and we hope you have enjoyed the journey. If you desire to buy T-shirts, photos, or any kind of souvenirs, the gargoyle mail service of New Byzantium will be happy to fulfil each and every one of your requests after the Summer Solstice!"
  
  "You are going to try to fill your pockets with Demigods' hard-earned money?" the red donkey brayed.
  
  "There is no 'try', Junior," the son of Poseidon boasted like it was something to be proud of. "And I will remind you sailing on the Indomptable was free for your nice and red long ears despite your lamentable excuse not to climb up the masts or make sailor's knots..."
  
  "I am trapped into a donkey's body!"
  
  "See, my treacherous lieutenant? He always answers with the same unsatisfactory excuse..."
  
  Thank the will of the Fates she had been granted the Truth, otherwise the twelve-year-old Demigoddess would be busy strangling Seaweed Brain.
  
  Annabeth closed her eyes, and decided the best solution was to ignore this scene of...she didn't find the words. Chaos? For some reason, it seemed too weak.
  
  Taking care not to advance too far from the rest of the Squad, the soul trapped into the body of a blonde girl climbed up what appeared to be a dusty and long-forgotten path over the volcanic grounds of Hell.
  
  Yes, Hell. The terrain was uneven and sickened, more of these dark rocks and dark cliffs which marked the limit of the disaster zone that were now the submerged Fields of Asphodel - given the depth of the liquid-flame, 'flooded' was insufficient to properly describe it.
  
  The worst part, everything Jackson had ordered, the destruction of this prodigious architectural marvel that was the dam, the destruction of the old Asphodel, his victory over Minos and his decision not to fight the Kraken...it had worked.
  
  It had taken eight days of nightmarish travel, but she could see the dark fortress-palace of Hades less than...it had to be between five and eight kilometres, as far as she estimated.
  
  "You shouldn't walk so far ahead, short one," an animal voice resonated behind her. Because of course, Jackson had thought recruiting the Minotaur was a good idea.
  
  "Why? You think I can't deal with a few skeletons?"
  
  "Asterius isn't worried about the skeletons," Jackson said, walking quickly behind his 'friend'. "And neither should you. Believe me when I say the kraken which I wasn't able to proclaim my eternal friendship to was not and never will be the most redoubtable weapon of the Lord of the Underworld."
  
  "I will keep that in mind..." Annabeth muttered. "Seaweed Brain."
  
  The conversation had distracted her, which was why the arrival to the ridge separating the inner domain of Hades from the Asphodel cliffs caught her by surprise.
  
  A surprise which was near-instantly overwhelmed by the sight awaiting her inefficient two eyes of human when she tried to analyse the sight offered to her.
  
  "Jackson...you told us Asphodel was the last obstacle we would have to cross before reaching his seat of power!"
  
  But when she turned to glare at him, the son of Poseidon wasn't grinning, smiling, or playing jokes.
  
  "Yes, I said it. And it appears I was wrong. But in my defence...the Styx isn't supposed to flow here."
  
  "But it is here, General." The Minotaur rumbled.
  
  "Your ship-" she began but the son of Poseidon interrupted her.
  
  "Don't even think about it." Perseus Jackson shook his head. "I won't be able to transfer it so close to the fortress without the defences creating big holes in its hull, and even if they don't work, the ship was enchanted to resist the liquid-flame of the Phlegethon, not the most powerful of the Hell Rivers. We must use the bridge."
  
  Annabeth swallowed heavily. They were at least a kilometre away from the massive ramp leading to the dark pillars and ramp leading to it, but she could see what guarded it.
  
  It had a canine shape, but there were modern cruise ships which were far smaller than that. In fact, the more you looked at it, the more it seemed the bridge had been built for the animal which was soundly asleep and preventing anyone not invited by Hades to cross.
  
  But no mortal dog had three heads, and the Hellhound by Jackson's side was a runt compared to this monster.
  
  Somehow, the myths and the legends failed to do it justice.
  
  It was Cerberus.
  
  "So..." Jackson's smirk was back. By the web, very bad things and a multitude of disasters were going to happen! "Who is the best singer of the Suicide Squad?"
  
  "The best what?"
  
  "We need a second Orpheus, Annie, since obviously none of us is a second Heracles. So I repeat my question. Who is the best singer of the Suicide Squad? Come on, we are in need of a talented voice here!"
  
  One day she was going to strangle this crazy Demigod, and the spiders would acclaim her as their Goddess for the favour made to this poor world...
  
  "The donkey has volunteered!"
  
  "WHAT? NO, I AM A TERRRIBLE SINGER!"
  
  "It's that or you will be used as a source of steaks, my dear quadrupedal lieutenant..."
  
  Author's note: Hell will never be the same again...the 'heroes' has invaded the Underworld and Asphodel paid the price. Next stop: Styx and Cerberus!
  
  The adventures - and misadventures - of the Suicide Squad will continue in the next chapter, tentatively titled Invincible.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Invincible
  Chapter 7
  
  Invincible
  
  The Fields of Asphodel were rarely mentioned among the most dangerous obstacles separating Demigods from the Palace of Lord Hades, for the reason no one sane had seriously planned for the undertaking of crossing thousands of kilometres of shade-crowded plains with limited food and reserves of water.
  
  The Suicide Squad had successfully completed this challenge in less than ten days.
  
  Of course, to achieve this extraordinary feat, the collateral damage had been considerable.
  
  The Phlegethon Dam had been destroyed. The Fields of Asphodel had been drowned and been transformed into the Asphodel Sea. If there was someone besides the Lord of the Underworld who knew how much of Hell infrastructure and defences had been demolished, crippled, or simply gone missing in the monumental flooding, no one in the aftermath had any idea of his or her identity. What it had done to the uncountable number of soul-shades supposed to await peacefully an eventual resurrection or the end of all existence was also a large unknown.
  
  The son of Poseidon leading this Great Quest likely didn't care about the devastation he left behind him, a trail of destruction which had to be measured in the billions of Drachmas from a conservative economic view.
  
  Some of his reasons were likely incredibly selfish. Others were maybe more pragmatic.
  
  The Great Quest wasn't over, after all. Before stepping a foot inside Hades' Citadel, formidable forces and obstacles barred the way of the surviving Demigods and Demigoddesses, the latter including two of the most dangerous trials a Demigod could be opposed to in his life: Cerberus and the Styx.
  
  The legendary three-headed dog didn't need any introduction. Fearsome guardian of the Gates of Hell, Cerberus had loyally protected the Rich One's domains since his rule began, and save the children of Hades, the only heroes to not be devoured by his three heads were Heracles and Orpheus. Cerberus had no weaknesses one could easily exploit, and thus the bridge he guarded was impossible to use without the consent of the Lord of the Underworld.
  
  The alternative was the Styx, and as people versed in mythology truly knew, the three-headed dog was less dangerous, both from a physical or spiritual perspective. Cerberus, in the end, could do no worse than killing you. Staying immerged in the Hell River for too long, however, would be the ruin of not only your body, but your soul too.
  
  In most cases, dead heroic and non-heroic souls paid the ferryman Charon to cross what was the most dangerous of the Rivers of Hell. It was a shortcut obviously denied to the living, assuming campers of New Byzantium had a method to summon one of Hades' servants and convince him to transport them without calling enemy reinforcements. Having a bargain chip to ensure he didn't throw them in the Styx while in the middle of the naval crossing was a nice prerequisite too.
  
  Evidently, the duo Styx-Cerberus was considered superior to Charybdis-Scylla, and the odds of successfully gaining entrance into the Sea of Monsters compared to Hell spoke in the Dark Realm defender's favour.
  
  But the Suicide Squad had already accomplished the impossible several times, sailing on a sea of Hell to come so far. What was one more challenge, to obtain an audience with the Master of the Helm of Darkness?
  
  Extract from the Chapter 10 of Chronicles of the Suicide Squad, by Malcolm Pace, son of Athena
  
  30 May 2006, edge of the new Asphodel Sea, the Underworld
  
  "Dear partner-in-crimes of the Suicide Squad! We have arrived at the end of the holiday cruise! We are at the doorstep of destiny! We are-"
  
  "Jackson!" Ethan interrupted before the mad son of Poseidon could continue further. "The ship is in danger!"
  
  An enormous tentacle struck the sails and tore apart most of the cloth on its way seconds after like it wanted to support his words.
  
  It wasn't the case, of course.
  
  "You were telling us the Kraken had stopped the pursuit!"
  
  "No, Marion, I told you the Kraken had resigned itself and acknowledged it wouldn't kill us, this is not exactly the same thing!"
  
  Ethan ignored the banter and tried not to shake in fear as the monumental monster revealed itself most of the size which usually stayed under the water.
  
  It was...titanic. Much as he tried to ignore their 'dear leader' monologues, the point of view that the first Perseus had killed this sea monster by Medusa's petrifying power was sounding credible.
  
  The son of Nemesis was unable to see a weak point that would require a sword or another sort of infantry weapon, really.
  
  "We must save the ship!" Chase exclaimed.
  
  "And how do you intend to do that? I'm really curious about the tactics you want to employ, Amanda..."
  
  "My name is Annabeth!"
  
  "Of course it is, Alexandria..."
  
  While the son of Poseidon and the daughter of Athena exchanged barbs, the Kraken had not remained inactive. The ship's anchor, the masts, and the cannons were sent overboard as the gigantic monster unleashed the wrath accumulated during several days of pursuit.
  
  And finally, once the old warship had been battered into impotence and was nothing but a crippled hulk sinking slowly, the tentacles towed it towards the interior of the Asphodel Sea and squeezed as they sent it by the bottom.
  
  A minute later, there was no more Kraken visible. And of the Napoleonic-era ship, the only signs it had ever existed were the debris floating amidst the shrieking souls of the red sea of liquid-flames.
  
  "Damn it." Jackson clicked his fingers. "I couldn't even swear my eternal friendship to this misunderstood animal!"
  
  "Jackson..." Zoë Nightshade growled, her silver armour a beacon of light as the red light of the Underworld was a meagre twilight at best. "This was our only way to return to the Labyrinth!"
  
  "But doing the same thing over and over is so boring!"
  
  Someone else saying this would probably have experienced the 'pleasure' of a few fists breaking his nose...to begin with.
  
  Ethan sighed.
  
  "Boring or not, this was the only path which guaranteed a safe return to the world of the living above our heads."
  
  "There is worse," the Earthshaker's crazy scion said with a semi-serious expression which fooled no one. "I wasn't able to insure the warship. Have you any idea of the kind of embezzlements via insurance fraud which are suddenly denied to me?"
  
  The list of crimes they were all going to be accused of by the end of the Great Quest was going to be...record-breaking. Ethan just knew it. They had 'Hell-spanning vandalism', arson, high treason, corruption, bribery, and environmental crimes in addition to use of forbidden substances and...okay, he was going to stop there, it was really becoming too depressing.
  
  "No!" The blonde daughter of Athena shouted. "And I don't care!"
  
  "Anyway, the kraken is gone," Jake Mason brayed. "For the short-term, our back is safe. The Kraken won't be able to pursue us on land, and there's no army that can cross the Phlegethon sea..."
  
  The black-haired Demigod didn't have the time to count to five before the first skeleton emerged from the Asphodel Sea. He was followed by another. And then countless others.
  
  Before their insane leader found something spiritual to say, there were hundreds of skeletons, armed with muskets and pirate hats like in one of those popular pirate movies, trying to reach the shore, and Ethan had a feeling it wasn't to say hello.
  
  "I give you a ten on 'taunting the Fates', my sole and only donkey lieutenant!"
  
  "I didn't taunt the Fates!" The red donkey denied vehemently, his bad faith evident to all.
  
  "Much as I dislike agreeing with Jackson on anything...you did," Miranda Gardiner affirmed. "Okay, how do we deal with these pirate skeletons?"
  
  Perseus Jackson opened his mouth to answer...and Nightshade began to shoot her arrows before a single word was uttered.
  
  The Huntress of Artemis should have been out of archery range, longbow or no longbow. But as the arrows took flight, they turned into moonlight rays after a few seconds. The silver explosions when they hit the servants of the Rich One right between the holes where their eyes had been were rather spectacular.
  
  "We don't." The son of Poseidon said after a second of silence. "Impressive shooting performance, Zara, but it wasn't necessary."
  
  "It wasn't necessary?" the silver-armoured immortal hissed venomously, decreasing the distance between the insane Demigod and she.
  
  "Incorrect word, I apologise," Perseus Jackson didn't look in her direction. "It was an impressive shooting performance, but you don't have enough strength to shoot all day the skeletons."
  
  "What are you-"
  
  The questions and the exclamations of disapproval quieted down, as new skeletons emerged from the Phlegethon burning liquid-flame.
  
  This time it wasn't the two dozen of animated bone-warriors Nightshade had slaughtered.
  
  There were hundreds of them, maybe as many as one thousand...and behind them there were more coming to the Asphodel shores.
  
  What the Huntress had destroyed was just the advance guard of a true army.
  
  "Oh woe is us, Phlegethon has betrayed me after I greatly increased his influence and his power over the Underworld..."Jackson mused aloud before rising his fist in the air. "You will not get away with this, honourless scoundrel! Asterius, you know what you have to do!"
  
  Then the green-eyed madman turned towards them and grinned.
  
  "To the Styx Bridge!"
  
  30 May 2006, the Styx Bridge, the Underworld
  
  They were running.
  
  Luke would say 'running for their lives', but it would be a bit dramatic. The skeleton warriors had not started running, and had to be nearly a kilometre behind them. And though the thousands already on the shore were reinforced by thousands emerging from the Asphodel Sea, it was clear the enemy army was in no hurry.
  
  That was the good news. The bad news was ahead of them. The reasons why the servants of the Lord of Hell felt there was no need to hurry. And much as he wanted to say otherwise, Luke understood the intelligence guiding them had a point.
  
  As far as the eye could see on the large valley in front of them, the Styx River waited for them.
  
  There were maybe some places where jumping over it could be possible in the distorted peaks on the far right or the far left of his vision, but it would likely cost them days, assuming it was possible at all and no skeleton armies waited to ambush them.
  
  No, the fastest way to cross was straight ahead, in the form of a colossal bridge which had to be the width of the Brooklyn one...and maybe twice the length.
  
  Never let it be said that when Hades built, the elder brother of the Big Three built small.
  
  It wasn't a bridge a lot of tourists would love to spend admiring for half of a day, mind you. The railings had numerous cruel spikes, and the decoration theme involved lots of skulls and other death imagery. In the dark atmosphere of the Underworld, it was absolutely sinister, which had to be the ambiance sought for.
  
  The big problem wasn't the decoration, unfortunately. The problem was that for all its width, the 'Hell Bridge' was barely big enough for a certain three-headed dog to mount guard here. The mind of a thief - which Luke fortunately possessed - was suspicious and began to wonder if the bridge had not been adapted to fit Cerberus rather than the contrary.
  
  To repeat, Cerberus was huge. Bigger than the monsters they had met so far, and they weren't imbued with the power of the Underworld.
  
  And when it was obvious they continued to advance, the three massive heads began to salivate.
  
  "Jackson," Dakota began hesitantly, "the...ahem...I don't like how the dog salivates..."
  
  "Nothing to fear, my loyal drunk lieutenant! The poor dog just thinks we are the late lunch he was denied for days! Honestly, the gall of the Underworld authorities, letting this poor animal alone and unfed!"
  
  Crazy, but then the son of Poseidon had befriended the Minotaur...where had the half-bull gone by the way? The son of the Immortal Sorceress had been in the rear-guard, but he wasn't anywhere in sight right now...
  
  "Well, we don't have any surplus food to give him," Drew Tanaka said nervously, "and I am not sure Charmspeak will be enough to convince him to let us pass."
  
  "Almost certainly not," Jackson agreed. "The Judges of the Dead must sentence countless sons and daughters of the Goddess of Love, it would be very difficult if the biggest enforcer they have is easily distracted. Fortunately, I have a solution! Zoë, I have found you a new friend!"
  
  The Hellhound, not the Huntress, barked and charged flat out her far larger cousin.
  
  "What are you doing? Your Hellhound is going to be slaughtered!" Jake brayed.
  
  But the Labyrinth-recruited monster wasn't attacked. Cerberus considered this intruder for several seconds...before deciding sniffing and licking with his large three tongues this distant female cousin was the thing to do.
  
  Ten more seconds, and the Hellhound and the ferocious guardian of Hell were playing with each other, barking in happiness, and generally doing very dog-appropriate activities...which shook the bridge severely. Fortunately, the Underworld architects built tough.
  
  "You were saying, my faithless quadruped lieutenant?"
  
  Perseus Jackson, the son of the God of the Thieves noticed, loved destroying their expectations.
  
  "Err...Jackson?" Lou Ellen Blackstone swallowed nervously, her eyes turned towards the direction of the Asphodel behind them. "The enemy is coming for us."
  
  The sorceress wasn't exaggerating. Apparently, someone on the other side had acknowledged there was a small chance they would cross the bridge successfully, and now what was a respectable army of skeleton pirates and other dead warriors was rushing to close the trap.
  
  "Let's go!" Annabeth began to run...and just as she was some ten feet away from the canine duo, Cerberus stopped the games and salutations with Zoë the Hellhound and growled threateningly.
  
  "Cerberus! I have come to proclaim you my eternal friendship!"
  
  You had three guesses to wonder who had said those words, and the first two didn't count.
  
  Cerberus barked loudly...just before receiving some liquid on his hirsute black fur.
  
  "First, the Eternal Perfect Shampoo!" The mad boy went so far as to use his hydrokinesis on the Styx to wash Cerberus! And the result was a miniature pool of foam forming around the three-headed dog! "You deserve it, good boy!"
  
  "This has to be a nightmare, please tell me I'm not seeing this..." Dakota whispered. "It's the Eleutherian Wine, right?"
  
  "I don't know..." Luke had to admit that maybe they were all hallucinating since they had entered the Labyrinth...
  
  Because, of course, the shampoo - the smell of apples was so powerful they couldn't smell anything else - was the beginning. Then Jackson summoned an enormous blue brush from his baggage, and proceeded to scrub Cerberus. The servant of the Lord of the Underworld had abandoned all vigilance by then, and was not pretending to do anything but enjoying the attention he had been so deprived of for years.
  
  The paws were not forgotten; placed on an inflatable pillow, they were coated in a powerful herb-smelling cream once the fur was clean and pristine.
  
  "That's a good guardian dog! Who's a good guardian dog?"
  
  "Are we sure..." Ethan coughed, "that the authority of Lord of the Seas doesn't extend to dogs and Hellhounds?"
  
  "No," Annabeth shook her head, "only horses and bulls for the animals living outside the water...but after seeing this..."
  
  "Jackson, hurry!" the daughter of Hecate shouted. "The skeletons are nearly there, and I don't think we will be able to fight them! They are too many!"
  
  Black flames began to burn in her hands, but Lou Ellen hadn't exaggerated. Hades' army would be there within ten minutes, and given their numbers, they would be outnumbered a thousand to one.
  
  "Right, right, Cerberus, noble dog of the Underworld, can we use your great bridge?"
  
  The cousin of Zoë the Hellhound barked in approval as his long ears were caressed and received perfume.
  
  "You see, my treacherous lieutenant? There was-"
  
  A miniature tsunami struck the large section of the bridge behind Cerberus, and in the blink of an eye, the gigantic bridge which was to be their salvation was carried away and destroyed by the furious flooding of the Styx.
  
  Dakota hadn't truly realised how large the Styx River truly was until the bridge was torn apart.
  
  Now the son of Bacchus did.
  
  It was really, really big. Not as big as one of those large rivers like the Amazon or the Nile - Chiron was too fond of environmental and documentaries when it was on the evening's schedule - but then those immensities of water hadn't the power to hurt you by contact alone.
  
  The Styx wasn't as polluted as the rumours made it to be at New Byzantium. But then the gigantic garbage-destroyers they could observe at the bottom of the river before it became a furious maelstrom must be responsible for its relatively clean state.
  
  'Relative' was the key word, evidently. There was a lot of junk and the filth formed a miniature layer above the water by itself.
  
  Or it had, before the bridge was destroyed.
  
  Now the trash and the garbage were thrown out on the banks of the river, and the water itself was like it was agitated by a hurricane or some equally phenomenon violent.
  
  "I was afraid something like that was going to happen," the son of Poseidon remarked. "Plan B, it is."
  
  "You knew?" Dakota managed after coughing, deciding on a common accord with the other Questers it was better for him to speak.
  
  "My loyal drunken lieutenant," damn it, what did he do to deserve this form of address, "this river shouldn't be here. Good Cerberus," ignore the scrubbing of the giant three-headed dog, Dakota, "should be near the entrance of the Underworld. These defences shouldn't be located where they are. Logic dictates they were moved around, and they aren't many powers among the Greek-Roman Pantheon which can impose anything to the most powerful of the Hell Rivers."
  
  Grabbing a few Drachmas from his pockets, Perseus Jackson threw them directly in the tumultuous waters.
  
  "Oh, Styx, accept this offering! I, Perseus Jackson, swear you, my eternal friendship!"
  
  Cerberus barked loudly, but generous caresses and scratching distracted the Underworld guardian again.
  
  Anyway, the result was disappointing. The Styx was still agitated on a level where 'furious flooding' or 'apocalyptically unleashed' were not something totally exaggerated.
  
  "For once Jackson, it seems your plan isn't working," Annabeth Chase told him smugly.
  
  "You are absolutely right, Annie," there was an amused grin on their leader's face, which meant...the worst had not happened...yet. "Plan B doesn't work, so let's go to Plan C directly."
  
  Jackson stretched like he was about to do something physically straining...and then he shouted.
  
  "STYX! I KNOW YOU HAVE BETRAYED HADES! I AM ABOUT TO BLACKMAIL YOU!"
  
  The river immediately returned to a somewhat placid state...if one didn't count the tsunami-high wave rising on the opposite bank.
  
  "I DEMAND AN AUDIENCE...UNLESS YOUR AUGUST DIVINITY WISHES FOR ZEUS TO BE INFORMED OF THIS MINOR ISSUE THROUGH A SHORT IRIS-MESSAGE!"
  
  The impossible wave rushed towards them, but just as it was about to strike, it began to shift into a tall masked woman twice the height of Cerberus.
  
  Despite not seeing most of her face, Dakota shivered at the sheer hate in those night-black eyes. And the power the Goddess emanated...it was far, far worse than anything Caligula and his sister had ever done...ten times their power combined, and Styx was not using anything like her true power.
  
  "Choose your next words carefully, Perseus Jackson," the River-Goddess whose boon of invincibility had made the hero Achilles famous for thousands of generations. "For no one does blackmail me. I give you one minute to pray for my mercy...past this delay, I will annihilate you, body and soul."
  
  "Past this delay, I will annihilate you, body and soul."
  
  The Goddess Styx, Ethan acknowledged, wasn't human, had never been human, and didn't bother hiding she had no common points with Mankind.
  
  Take her appearance for example: outwardly, the manifestation of the Hell River was dressed like one of those Queens of ages past, a large gown the colour of midnight was coexisting with hair which managed to be somehow darker, and her eyes, the only part visible under her mask with her indigo lips, were pits of onyx. But the styles of the different clothes were not in use by humans: every time he tried to focus on one part of her, it gave him a painful headache and visions of nightmare like grinning skulls danced before his eyes.
  
  It went without saying that they hadn't a chance in all the Hells to cause a minor inconvenience to her. She was the eldest of the Oceanids, the daughters of the Titan and Titaness of the Sea. Most Gods preferred to abide by her terms of punishments rather than ignore her when one vow was broken.
  
  If Jackson didn't find something clever to say...they were all dead.
  
  At least it would be quick...
  
  "I can make you the most powerful Goddess of the Underworld."
  
  Styx gaped. Apparently, whatever she had been told to expect, it wasn't sufficient to be ready for a round of 'Jackson madness'.
  
  "You lie."
  
  "I do not." The green-eyed Demigod smiled innocently. "On my life, I swear on the Styx that I can, provided that you cooperate, make you the second most powerful being of the Underworld, right under whoever sits upon Hades Throne."
  
  There was a thunderous sound, the Hellish red sky thundered, smoke coalesced...and Perseus Jackson remained perfectly unharmed.
  
  "It does not change anything," the Goddess said in a voice which had lost a lot of its certainty. "I swore a mutual oath to destroy any and all invaders invading overtly or covertly the Underworld whose goal is to recover the Master Bolt."
  
  "Excellent!" Oh no, more madness coming. "It just so happened we are paid by my Lord Father's wife to recover the Trident of the Seas, not some insignificant artefact of thunder." Jackson shrugged. "Contact Atlantis if you don't believe me."
  
  Styx did just that. In one of her hands, a mobile phone, one embedded with numerous onyx stones and other jewels, appeared. The Hell Goddess read for barely two seconds, but whatever she had been given access to in this interval of time had apparently been enough to confirm his words.
  
  "It seems you are saying the truth." Styx reluctantly admitted. "But I can't let you pass, son of the Earthshaker."
  
  "Is this because you negotiated a pact with the elusive and mysterious Lightning Thief?"
  
  Styx didn't answer directly, which a damning answer by itself.
  
  "The environmental measures and the garbage-disposers at the bottom of your riverbed are her ideas, I take it." The too-perceptive son of Poseidon continued. "I suppose several purifying rituals and the disposal of the memory-possessions into the other rivers of the Underworld was also included in the negotiation?"
  
  "You are too clever to live long, Perseus Jackson." The River Goddess warned.
  
  "As long as my death shakes the world," and Ethan shuddered, for the fearless reaction wasn't just frightening...it was also heartfelt truth. "You are the reason the Lightning Thief was successful in infiltrating Olympus and hiding her intentions from Hades, aren't you?"
  
  "I am not alone, but I played the part I was sworn to," the Goddess bared pearly white teeth. "Do you have any idea how many millennia I urged Hades to adopt strict anti-pollution measures? The more I complained about the disgusting activities of humankind, the more he ignored me! I was used as a watery dump! Me!"
  
  The river grew ever more agitated, not to the point of the previous flooding, but the pillar under their feet shook.
  
  "I was promised to sit at the right of the Throne of the Underworld. Why would I endanger this accord, Demigod?"
  
  "Because for all the accords, it will not give you more power or influence," their grinning commander grinned. "It will give you respect and a title...but both can be withdrawn. I, however, will make modifications far more difficult to reverse...no matter if they come from Hades or the Lightning Thief."
  
  "And how do you think you can do that?"
  
  "Simple," why did Ethan think he wasn't going to like what was going to follow? "There is a dam north of here preventing you from flooding into the new 'Asphodel Sea' and contesting the domination of Phlegethon. You only have to say the word, and I will blow it up."
  
  Ethan opened his mouth, in an attempt to tell Jackson to not be ridiculous, before realising the Minotaur was missing. And from the entire group of Questers, 'Asterius' was likely the only person to be able to locate and fight his way through to any defenders of a dam as big as the first one without dying.
  
  "Phlegethon has stacked his claim."
  
  "He also betrayed us," Perseus Jackson gleefully reminded her, "and who has more claim upon this sea than we, the Great Questers who destroyed the Dam preventing him from flooding Asphodel?"
  
  "You think you can compare yourself to a deity of the Underworld?"
  
  "I just did it, didn't I?"
  
  There was no anger in the eyes of Styx anymore. Instead, there was...avidity. It was so powerful Ethan could almost taste it. If it had conflicted with the first pact, the daughter of Thethys would have refused outright. But Jackson had offered her to keep the first cake and then offered her a second one which looked even more delicious than the first.
  
  "If the dam preventing me from flooding the Asphodel is broken and I desire to contest the claim of Phlegethon, this part of my riverbed will soon become empty."
  
  "A happy coincidence, I'm sure," Perseus grinned.
  
  "All of you swear to not wound, kill, or inflict any form of physical or magical injury to Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Hades."
  
  Ethan grimaced inwardly. The Lightning Thief was Hades' daughter? Curse it, neither Chiron nor any of the Gods like Dionysus had mentioned it!
  
  Jackson however seemed unperturbed by this declaration. Maybe he already knew...the Gods knew he already seemed to be aware of everything else.
  
  "Acceptable, but I want a clause authorising legitimate self-defence." The son of Poseidon replied. "I will not initiate hostilities to recover the Trident, but I will not allow her to kill me or one of the members of this Great Quest without defending myself."
  
  "And one of you will be bestowed the Curse of Achilles."
  
  The son of Nemesis froze. No, surely he had misheard...
  
  "If it is to give some kind of equivalent exchange because the Lightning Thief already bathed in your sacred waters, I assure you, Great Styx, it is not necessary!"
  
  But for the first time, there was something...deadly serious under the jokes and the amusement of Perseus Jackson. The son of Poseidon had told them he didn't believe in Achilles' invincibility, and the fact Styx had called it a 'Curse' tended to support his opinion. Still, there was something...
  
  "Bianca di Angelo was indeed bestowed the Curse too," Styx nodded, "albeit for different reasons."
  
  For once, there was no retort from the Demigod whose existence angered Zeus. Ethan in the meantime tried not to think too deeply how bad this whole mission had become. They would have to face a daughter of Hades empowered by the Styx, and in the unlikely case they found her fatal weakness, they were going to have to swear to not hurt her.
  
  Could this day get any better?
  
  Luke Castellan chose this moment to intervene after a forced cough.
  
  "Lady Styx, we are honoured, but if one of us is bestowed the...Curse of Achilles, the paranoia of certain deities on Olympus is going to be greatly increased, and it won't be good for whatever plans you have..."
  
  "Luke," Jackson sighed, "increasing the paranoia of the Master of Olympus is exactly the point of Lady Styx's plan, not an unhappy side-effect."
  
  "Indeed," Styx largely smiled for the first time, and it was something elegant, familiar, and terrible. "Now, who will receive my bestowal, I wonder? Assuming you accept, of course..."
  
  One turn of the head, and yes, there was an army of tens of thousands of skeletons waiting at good distance five hundred metres behind them...
  
  "You are not forced to do it, you know."
  
  Lou Ellen didn't need to turn her head to know Jackson was deadly serious when he whispered the words. The daughter of Hecate wasn't worried either about the son of Poseidon trying to watch her naked while she removed her armour and her clothes; Perseus Jackson had a lot of flaws, but trying to see girls naked as often as possible wasn't among his - long - list of sins.
  
  "You prefer to do it?" the blonde Demigoddess asked in a murmur, though it was certainly useless with Styx being a River-Goddess and thus listening to them a couple of metres away. "We all know how this story ends."
  
  Styx was a bitch, honestly. A son of Poseidon who irritated Zeus and most of his progeny the moment he was born...or a daughter of Hecate? Yeah, 'paranoia attack' was an underwhelming description of what was going to happen when Olympus was informed of the outcome of the negotiations between the Oceanid and Jackson.
  
  Plunge someone like Dakota McDonald into the Styx, and the Gods would chuckle and after a few grumblings, would ignore the problem for decades.
  
  If the most infuriating 'half-blood' of their generation was bestowed the Curse of Achilles, however...well, Zeus would know no peace until he was ashes and cinders. It wouldn't matter if it began a war with Poseidon within the next couple of minutes; Perseus Jackson would be the target of the Thunder God's wrath...and for all the resistance and blessings granted by the Styx, Lou Ellen wasn't certain the 'invincibility' promised would do anything when the very air became lightning and Jupiter-Zeus descended to battle a half-mortal in his divine form.
  
  "I'm sure a certain God would realise the folly of striking someone as amusing and good-spirited as me!" the green-eyed mad boy protested for the form.
  
  "Yeah, after your father declared war because he killed you in a fit of paranoia..."
  
  Perseus chuckled for a few seconds before speaking again.
  
  "You're right, of course. He would kill me...or do his best to incinerate me, which is the same, really." Perseus clicked his tongue loudly. "If only the daughter of Hades had not made so many promises to the local River Goddess..."
  
  "You think this is the problem?" Lou Ellen asked as only her undergarments were left.
  
  "Sorceress, as...entertaining as the rebellion against one of the brothers of my genitor may be, the consequences are not going to be light if the Rich One return to power. The terms I was able to deduce are only part of what was offered, but without knowing more about the Lightning Thief, it is difficult to make accurate guesses about past negotiations."
  
  "You knew her name and that she was a daughter of Hades." Maybe this was a cowardly attempt to delay her 'bath'...okay, it was. "Hades broke the Oath."
  
  "No, he didn't." Perseus was prompt to deny, to her great surprise. "His daughter was born in the 1930s, and after Zeus killed her mother, she was sent to the Lotus Casino, effectively she was a vestige of the pre-World War II era in stasis. Despite my best efforts though, I have been unable to discover who organised her escape...judging by her usurpation schemes, it was not her father."
  
  "It still could be an illusion." It was probably grasping at straws and ghosts, of course. "The Lightning Thief may be playing the role of mastermind while Hades remains out of sight."
  
  "It could be..." Perseus admitted as she advanced naked towards the Styx. "Except we were never supposed to reach the heart of Hell. Are you ready?"
  
  "No." Lou admitted truthfully.
  
  "Too bad," the son of Poseidon answered, "if you can visualise where your Achilles' heel will be, don't choose anywhere you can't watch. Siegfried and Achilles can testify it was a very bad, bad idea..."
  
  And he pushed her into the Styx.
  
  The first contact was incredible pain.
  
  It was like she had plunged her body into acid...and after a few heartbeats, it got worse. The muscles, the organs, the nerves, the hair, the mouth...everything hurt, burned, and tortured her psyche. And as Lou tried to steel her mind and ignore the physical inconvenience, each second was more painful than the previous than the other one. Styx wasn't kidding when she said she could destroy them body and soul.
  
  There was only one thing to do: using the advice the Hell Goddess had so 'generously' provided, and creating a spiritual umbilical cordon to keep her mortality and avoid utter destruction while she 'bathed'.
  
  It was the only thing which mattered. And when she felt her resistance weaken, Lou Ellen remembered the words of Jackson saying she had potential. Something her own mother hadn't told her...because the magic-practitioner had only met her once.
  
  One second later, Lou Ellen was expelled from the depths of the acid pit...pardon, the hellish river.
  
  "There are lobsters which will feel jealous," Jackson remarked as he helped her find strength to stand on her own. "Did it work?"
  
  Lou shook her head...and then from instinct, she summoned her clothes and her armour on her. Faster than one could say it, the daughter of Hecate was ready to wage war.
  
  As her skin returned progressively to something like her original shade, the blonde felt the currents of magic swirl around her. It was like blinders had been removed from her eyes. It was as if she was an entirely new person. It was if ten thousand gates formerly barred to her were now open.
  
  And as she saw the skeleton army which had stopped standing idle, realising Styx was not going to destroy them, Lou Ellen shouted the incantation which had once demanded her so much concentration and power to unleash.
  
  "HELLFIRE!"
  
  The skeleton army didn't suffer a serious blow, oh no.
  
  It was engulfed in the magical black flames and was completely, truly, annihilated.
  
  "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, you know..." Perseus Jackson had somehow drawn a cigar from somewhere and used a sparkle from her hands to light it...a very sarcastic way to keep her on her feet to be sure.
  
  "Remind me Jackson...you declined the 'honour of the bestowal because once you took the Curse of Achilles, the Olympians were going to panic?"
  
  While his mouth voiced the rhetorical question, Luke's eyes didn't turn away from the devastation.
  
  He had seen the destruction Lou Ellen Blackstone could wreck upon Pasiphaë's fortress, of course, but the incantation had taken far longer...and the spell had not been as powerful as it was today.
  
  There had been an entire skeleton army on these plains. The son of Hermes would not cry for them, though the souls inside the bone prisons had likely not volunteered or any choice offered before they were deployed.
  
  But there had been an entire army. They had not reached ten thousand, but there had been at least six or seven for certain.
  
  Now the only thing left of them were burning bones and twisted things which had been muskets, pistols and various old-fashioned armours a few minutes ago.
  
  The black flames still continued to burn nonetheless. After the sea of liquid-flames, their Quest had just added 'plains of black flames' to their list of achievements.
  
  "My dear heroic lieutenant," the mad Demigod played with a large cigar between his fingers, the odour emanating from it surprisingly pleasant, "I knew from the start our sorceress would be the second most unbearable choice for Olympus where the Curse of Achilles was concerned. That was why I wanted Clarisse to have it; the God of War would have seen nothing wrong with a bloodthirsty and invulnerable daughter reaping thousands of lives in his name..."
  
  "Screw you, Jackson!" the spear-wielding woman shouted.
  
  "Don't mind her, Cindy is disappointed she hasn't killed anyone in the last twenty-four hours," the son of Poseidon commented. "Where was I?"
  
  "You said Lou Ellen was the second worst choice after you," Luke swore that if they survived this Quest, he was going to barricade himself in his bedroom for ten days, just to save a bit of sanity...not that he had much left after the last days.
  
  "I did! And I have not changed my mind."
  
  "Some Olympians might not hesitate killing a daughter of Hecate."
  
  "True. Unfortunately, there are far more who won't hesitate raising their hands against a son of Poseidon." The younger Demigod shrugged. "You arguably have a good head upon your shoulders, so I think bestowing you the Curse would have improved you skills while calming the Council. But the whims of a certain Goddess prevented that."
  
  Perseus Jackson searched in the baggage he had left on the back of the smaller Hellhound - important observation, because yes, in case you wondered, Cerberus was nearby - and drew from it a flare gun.
  
  "It doesn't matter."
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  "The Gods believe we dance to their tune," the green-eyed swordsman grinned as he loaded the flare gun with...the cigar? "But I know better. I am the pebble which derails all their neatly-arranged plans. I am the card on the table that they won't be able to predict the actions of."
  
  The flare gun was raised high.
  
  "Let Hell fall, for the Suicide Squad comes!"
  
  The flare gun fired, and impossibly, what rose over their heads was a giant grinning skull of orange and black colour.
  
  North of their position - assuming there was a North in Hell and it wasn't just an anomaly conceived to screw with the compass - a gigantic explosion happened as the luminous signal was seen and the Minotaur acknowledged the order.
  
  "Don't think I am doing you a favour, Perseus Jackson," the Goddess Styx intervened as the familiar noise of thousands of tons of water breaking a dam arrived to their ears in a thunderous rumble. "No matter who will claim the throne of the Underworld, they will earmark you for the Fields of Punishment."
  
  And the Oceanid materialisation ceased to be as the level of the waters began to decrease and the ruckus of her waters finding a new riverbed increased in the distance.
  
  "Good," the madman smiled, "I love punish people."
  
  "Jackson, I think she meant as one of the punished," Miranda Gardiner intervened.
  
  "That would be a waste of my talents," the son of Poseidon replied to the daughter of Demeter. "And frankly, it won't happen."
  
  "Why? You think Zeus isn't willing to condemn you to such a fate?" Dakota asked with curiosity.
  
  "Of course, he is," Perseus immediately reassured them. "But there are procedures everywhere, and now that I have trapped Minos in a Stygian dagger, the Judges on the panel owe me several favours, and via Asterius I have negotiated for an amnesty the moment I arrive before them in the unlikely case I am killed."
  
  "You..." Zoë Nightshade was aghast...again. "You are violating the sacred rules of eternal justice!"
  
  "One more legendary achievement to my name," their insane leader beamed. "Ah, the divine battle begins."
  
  "THIS SEA IS MINE, STYX!" Phlegethon had begun to materialise a semi-divine form, and it was an impressive one. Even two or three kilometres away, one couldn't miss the giant of liquid-flames emerged from the Asphodel Sea.
  
  "YOU HAD A CLAIM AND YOU SQUANDERED IT!" The Goddess had changed her appearance to a midnight-armoured hoplite woman whose silhouette seemed to devour the few lights of the Underworld. "I AM THE GREATEST RIVER OF HELL! THIS SEA IS MINE TO CONQUER!"
  
  "Oh, Gods..." Luke didn't know who had spoken, but he or she was right.
  
  An axe of red flame and a spear of utter blackness crossed, and the clash of divine weapons' sound arrived to their ears a second later, explosive and promising nothing but death.
  
  "Nothing is going to be the same again after what we've done," Styx had been right on at least that: whoever inherited the Throne of the Underworld, they weren't going to ignore what Jackson had ordered. Dams destroyed were certainly bad enough, but engineering a battle with the two most powerful river deities of the Hells, beings who were feared long before their births? "I hope you have a good plan to get us out of here alive, Jackson."
  
  "Don't worry, Louis, my plan is perfection incarnate! No one is going to see it coming!"
  
  The blonde son of Hermes could already feel the next headache coming.
  
  "Before I forget," the group of heroes, reinforced by two Hellhounds, and who would see joined by a Minotaur running towards them, "who is going to win between Phlegethon and Nyx?"
  
  "My loyal heroic lieutenant," the black-haired boy who had joyously proclaimed himself a villain declared, "I haven't the faintest idea who will win...assuming one will manage to repel completely the other Hell River. But that's the point of this entire Quest, no? Finding out what happens when Fate's threads are no longer there to bind us..."
  
  Luke Castellan shivered, and he wasn't the only one.
  
  The crossing of the empty riverbed was for once uneventful.
  
  Uneventful apart from the fact Perseus Jackson complained endlessly how unfair it was they were forced to leave Cerberus behind.
  
  Apparently, the 'poor' three-headed dog had been given the order to guard the bridge, and the compulsion was so strong that being in ruins or not, Cerberus would continue to guard it.
  
  "I am going to sue the Lord of the Underworld for mistreatment of his employees and animals..." the son of Poseidon promised.
  
  "Sue in front of which tribunal?" Drew raised a dubitative eyebrow. "In case you forgot, Jackson, the only court a God as powerful as the Dark One will listen to is one including Olympians. And they aren't exactly your best friends..."
  
  "It's a question of principle!"
  
  "And honestly, since the Gods of the Underworld are unable to rule, it can't be their fault that they didn't care about their three-headed canine." The daughter of Aphrodite reasoned.
  
  "Error! The former Underworld administration has failed to care about one of their most devoted servants for centuries! Did you see how Cerberus was happy at being scrubbed and petted? I can assure you, if he received such treatment once every couple of years from his master, he wouldn't have welcomed me like he did!"
  
  Zoë the Hellhound loudly barked as if she wanted to confirm Jackson's arguments. Which was ridiculous, of course, because the Hellhounds weren't intelligent to understand human conversations...weren't they?
  
  For the sake of her sanity, the pretty Demigoddess decided to change the subject.
  
  "Do you have any idea how we are going to beat a daughter of Hades in the very heart of the Underworld? Because like with Cerberus, I don't think Charmspeak is going to do it..."
  
  "Oh, it won't," Perseus answered promptly. "To do what she did, our chief opponent must have a will of iron. It's best to assume Charmspeak can serve as a short distraction for a couple of seconds, but to assume it will seriously inconvenience her or force her to submit to one's will is sheer folly."
  
  "So...the plan?"
  
  "All in good time, Daisy, all in good time! First, we have to deal with a little problem!"
  
  "A little problem?"
  
  The time to climb up out of the muddy riverbed, all the while ignoring the garbage and the shrieking souls everywhere, and the white-armoured Demigoddess understood what their leader had referred to.
  
  The Hades Fortress was waiting for them, its gates incredibly close...there had to be one kilometre between them and the first stairs of black marble which led to them, maximum.
  
  And the majority of this respectable amount of flat terrain was covered in skeletons armed for war.
  
  There had to be thousands, no, tens of thousands of them.
  
  "Great," Ethan Nakamura said, his dark humour evident to all. "It seems the Lightning Thief had a few contingencies in case one managed to cross the Styx."
  
  "Which is a good trait to have," Perseus Jackson nodded vigorously and as far as she could judge...proudly. "We need more worthy opponents like her! I am tempted to swear my eternal friendship to her immediately if she arrives in the next seconds!"
  
  Fortunately for all of the Demigods' continued sanity, no one teleported or arrived from nowhere.
  
  They were alone...in front of an immense army of the dead.
  
  "Unless I slept too much during my history lessons," Dakota began, "these are the Legionnaires and troops of General Belisarius, Emperor Justinian's favourite General."
  
  Drew's knowledge of ancient Roman history - or history at all - sucked, but the scowls on Ethan and Luke's face told her it was very bad news.
  
  "And they somehow found modern guns in the last millennia." Clarisse La Rue added, in Drew's opinion, unnecessarily. "I see ten, no twelve artillery guns, and all of the Legionnaires have rifles, plus one machine gun per platoon."
  
  "And a lot of the ammunition vehicles are full of Stygian Iron bullets," Luke's declaration decreased morale even further. "We can safely assume all of the personal weapons have Demigod-killer bullets ready to be fired."
  
  "And the golden shields?" Annabeth called out. "I think those are sacred mirrors casting back spells to their senders!"
  
  Lou Ellen, who had begun to smirk, suddenly looked ill. In all fairness, Drew didn't want to eat a Hellfire spell in her face, not with the power the sorceress' power magnified by the Curse of Achilles.
  
  "We must find another way," Dakota McDonald spoke after emptying for the third time his flask.
  
  "There isn't another way." Jake Mason brayed. And for once, his donkey-transformed mouth rang with the truth.
  
  The skeletons were turned towards them, an army ready to eliminate all those who came too close to Hades' seat of power, but there were everywhere around it. Everywhere were the hellish landscape allowed it, there were skeletons armed to the teeth waiting to kill them.
  
  "Maybe if I learn another spell..." The daughter of Hecate began...and stopped speaking, as in a thunderous sound, the skeletons took a step forwards. And then another.
  
  The terrible army of death marched forwards, and the first guns began to fire...the explosions were too far to be frightening, but in a few minutes, they would be in range...
  
  And Perseus Jackson burst into laughter.
  
  For a second, Drew feared the son of Poseidon had lost completely his mind.
  
  "My friend asked me once," the black-haired mad boy drew his sword before sheathing it once again. "What was the point of standing on a battlefield alone, watching death arrive?"
  
  The explosions came closer, Underworld earth being propelled and columns of smoke arriving from every direction.
  
  "And I told him: twenty thousand men march to end me. They will break, because they are in my way. Watch, diplomat, and learn."
  
  The Demigod advanced, ignoring the bullets and some nasty sorcery being thrown by skeleton sorcerers.
  
  "I am Perseus Jackson," he laughed, "Tyrant of the Underworld. And I say my Rule extends to even the stalactites of the Underworld ceiling. Come, servants of the Lightning Thief. The Age of Wonders is not dead yet. Not while I breathe."
  
  There was a moment of silence.
  
  The earthquake came a second after it, and it was like Hell itself was shaken to its foundations.
  
  And then the stalactites began to fall. Red Lightning struck the skeletons by the thousands.
  
  The earth and the air of the Underworld became pools of devastation where their enemies were destroyed in group of several hundred every second.
  
  For the first time this hour, Drew wondered if Jackson had not bathed in the Styx...but no, he hadn't, Styx wouldn't have allowed him to...
  
  The skeleton army was incredibly powerful.
  
  It took less than five minutes for Jackson's spell or whatever he did to destroy it to the last undead warrior.
  
  And when he turned towards them, the madman was grinning.
  
  "Treacherous and heroic lieutenants of the Suicide Squad, I have arrived to a conclusion." The Minotaur threw him a banner with a trident and a grinning skull, and the son of Poseidon caught it in flight without looking at it. "I AM INVINCIBLE! MWHAHAHAHA!"
  
  31 May 2006, Hades Fortress, the Underworld
  
  After the tens of thousands of skeletons the sorceress and Jackson had destroyed between themselves today, the last guards and the gates they were ordered to defend didn't last long.
  
  And their demises were...not pretty to watch.
  
  "Clarisse. It's your turn to shine."
  
  "About time!" The daughter of Ares growled, and threw herself against the gates, her spear shrouded in crimson light.
  
  The doors of Hades' palace were big, tall, incredibly massive, and all that stuff.
  
  Clarisse went through them like they had been built in the same material as the potteries were.
  
  "BLOOD FOR THE WAR GOD!"
  
  "No, no, no!" Jackson of course had to intervene with his damnable grin. "It's 'Bones for the War God', the skeletons have no blood to shed, Clarisse!"
  
  "BONES FOR THE WAR GOD!"
  
  Jake closed his eyes for a few seconds, as the skeletons were certainly their enemies, but what Clarisse was doing in the breach she had just created was just...gratuitous violence.
  
  Alas when he reopened his eyes, the son of Hephaestus discovered most of the Suicide Squad had joined the destructive melee and were proceeding to destroy the defenders of the fortress' entrance hall...and they were not shy demolishing most of the decoration along with the skeleton warriors. Vases were used as blunt instruments to pulverise skulls. Ceremonial weapons were used in very practical and un-ceremonial ways. Statues fell upon the bone-made protectors commanded to shield them from raids and rampages.
  
  At last, which was to say after three or four minutes, the battle ceased, by virtue of the Questers not having eliminated all their undead opponents.
  
  "The courtesies are being forgotten in the Underworld!" the son of Poseidon chuckled, finishing the dismembering of a skeleton with a large sceptre-mass which didn't belong to him. "We weren't even proposed refreshments before this skirmish!"
  
  "Jackson, they are trying to kill us..."
  
  "My unfaithful and useless donkey lieutenant, trying to kill someone is not going to give you a pass for your poor manners!"
  
  Jake gritted his teeth.
  
  "I am not useless!"
  
  "You're staying out of the fights, and all your contributions so far are to bray and complain loudly," the son of Poseidon began to...steal several of the guns and the Stygian Iron ammunition while speaking. "I expected to see more of a son of God of Smiths and Forges, really..."
  
  "How do you want me to wield my machine gun with hooves?"
  
  Disinterested green eyes turned towards him.
  
  "I already saw the machine gun, Junior." The insane Demigod paused before yawning. "Boring."
  
  "Excuse me?" It had taken him hundreds of hours to perfect his weapon and hundreds more to prepare seven different types of explosive ammunition!
  
  "You heard me, Julian...or at least I hope you do, with your long and fluffy ears of donkey. Everyone has machine guns these days. Create something more original, by the Thunderous Imbecile's Beard! We are in an age of unprecedented warfare where humans killed each other in the skies, on the seas, and across several continents! Many nations have nuclear bombs and intercontinental missiles! We have tanks and bombers, artificial intelligence and nuclear-powered submarines! And you, a teenage son of the Forge Lord of Olympus can do no better than a machine gun? If it's not mediocrity, I don't know what it is!"
  
  "I will kill you for that Jackson." The moment his father retransformed him back, he was going to murder this traitor...
  
  "You will try. I give you points though for warning me of your totally unanticipated betrayal." The leader of the 'Suicide Squad' turned his back upon him, and Jake gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to throw a good kick to break this bastard's spine, fear held back his gesture.
  
  Jackson had destroyed a massive army of skeleton warriors without bathing in the Styx. If the treacherous son of Poseidon wanted to kill him, Jake would die...and he didn't want to be transferred to another section of Hell trapped in this cursed donkey body.
  
  "Right, this monologue was incredibly satisfying, but we have plenty of things to do. To the Treasure Room, Suicide Squad!"
  
  "To the Throne Room, you mean," Annabeth tried to correct him.
  
  "I know what I said, Amanda! Don't you know the first rule about repaying the discourtesies, oh Great Owlishness?"
  
  "Don't call me that! I will soon hold dominion over all spiders!"
  
  "Pillage then burn."Jackson continued, ignoring her - insane - rambling. "The Throne Room will wait. I must check first if the Treasure Room of the Rich One is able to justify his reputation of trillionaire!"
  
  To answer the question everyone aware of the Olympians' existence likely asked himself or herself, yes, Hades was worthy of his 'Rich One' title.
  
  Like Uncle Scrooge in the comics, Hades possessed a giant vault filled with gold. Well, not just gold bullion: some place had to be made for the silver, bronze, platinum, and other precious metals' ingots.
  
  Yes, unlike Scrooge's vault, everything was meticulously and neatly arranged, the metal ingots forming piles which were several meters-high, the rubies, diamonds, and priceless jewels were presented in several collections. There were series of inestimable paintings and artworks magically levitating above this wealth. There was an entire library worth of centuries-old manuscripts and each one was certainly the last copy in existence. There were ancient treasures like weapons, vases, crowns, sceptres, ancient Roman eagles of the Old Legions, silverware...and if she wanted to describe everything, Miranda would still be there when she died of old age.
  
  How could she tell that when she wasn't in the vault itself? Simple! Apparently, Hades had a dark sense of humour. The God of the Underworld had installed many, many TV screens before the corridors leading to the vaults where he guarded his wealth. Therefore the Demigods were granted what was almost certainly a partial view of the Treasure Vaults of Hades and the phenomenal fortune waiting for any thief audacious enough to dare stealing from the Rich One.
  
  Unfortunately, the treasures of the House of Hades weren't the only things the technology of the twenty-first century showed. Since labyrinths didn't fall unto his supervision, the eldest brother of Zeus and Poseidon had decided upon an obstacle course, and he had spared no expense to protect his vaults.
  
  There were lasers able to cut a man in two at the first wrong move. There were poison-filled rooms where a single breath would earn you a long, very long agony. There were underwater challenges where the 'water' was acid and fishes making piranhas like tender puppies waited to feed on the unwanted visitors.
  
  "Let's see the good side..." Luke's eyes were disappointment incarnate. After all, loyal or not to Olympus, this 'obstacle course' was like the ultimate challenge. "The Lightning Thief wasn't able to empty the vaults before we arrived."
  
  "What a relief." Miranda commented sarcastically.
  
  "In fact, it is truly one," Perseus Jackson commented. "Think about it. With several months of preparations, we 'only' had to face several armies of skeletons, Cerberus, Achilles, a River Goddess, and a few other monsters like the Kraken. Now imagine what one competent schemer could do with the keys of the Underworld treasury..."
  
  Miranda grimaced.
  
  "You have a point."
  
  "Of course, I have!" The son of Poseidon exclaimed. "And if I had a year or two to lose I would try to defeat this succession of obstacles and test my cleverness against the God and the engineers who built this challenge. Alas, we don't have the time."
  
  "Yeah, and our supplies would run out," Dakota pointed out, looking sadly at his empty flask. "Sooner than later," the son of Bacchus added morosely.
  
  "We have plenty of Eleutherian Wine, my drunken lieutenant," the Roman Demigod shook his head violently, his face pale and his limbs shaking. "Ah well. I've come, I've seen, and I've decided it's not worth the trouble. Let's go."
  
  "So fast? It isn't like you Jackson to abandon at the first obstacle?"
  
  "Tell me, oh my heroic lieutenant...in the unlikely case you reach the vault alive and uninjured...how are you going to transport the treasures on your way back?"
  
  Luke Castellan opened his mouth...and closed it.
  
  "Besides, I'm pretty sure that the moment one enters the vault, all the doors which are so nicely wide open right now will close until a certain God commands them to open again." Jackson snorted. "It's what I would do."
  
  "I don't know what is the most frightening in that affair: for the Rich One to be that much a sadist, or for you to be able to predict his moves..."
  
  "Don't worry, my treacherous lieutenant! Sometimes I frighten myself if I am not careful..."
  
  Miranda rolled her eyes. This was not reassuring at all.
  
  "The Throne Room?" The daughter of Demeter rhetorically asked.
  
  "The Throne Room," Jackson approved. "It's time to get some answers from the Lightning Thief."
  
  The ex-Tyrant could freely admit the headquarters of the Underworld were a disappointment in a lot of aspects. Not the 'I guard well my treasures' part, this was just good sense, but everything else.
  
  Despite reaching the throne room, Hades was not present, and neither was the Lightning Thief.
  
  "Fortunately, there is a Goddess," the Hydrokinesis master said cheekily to the other Demigods and Demigoddesses present. "Otherwise I would fear we have entered the wrong castle."
  
  "Did you play too many video games in your childhood?" of course, his treacherous lieutenant had to voice an outrageous question or two, otherwise he wouldn't be his treacherous lieutenant...
  
  "Why would I play those games when I already fight or negotiate with mythological beings on a daily basis?" He replied, honestly puzzled. "This matter aside, don't you think the local decorator abused of red and black? Honestly, lighter colours are-"
  
  "Demigods. Stop ignoring me or face the consequences."
  
  The young teenager - though he was mentally far, far older than that - snickered.
  
  "And what would those consequences will be?" The green-eyed villain walked calmly on the red-carpet, vivid scarlet line in a sea of darkness. "The Erinyes are petrified." He waved at the 'remarkable' statues of three dangerous women with whips, spikes and BDSM equipment which were leaning against the left hall with plenty of 'authentic' stone skeletons. "Your husband is absent. Most of your loyal armies are guarding the exits and the frontiers of the Underworld, unaware the betrayal has come from within. Styx and the other River Gods and Goddesses have betrayed you. And your own divine essence is trapped in this golden cage, where the power of seasons is siphoned away and dispersed across the world in order to prevent the Olympians from getting suspicious."
  
  His long tirade was sufficient to arrive before the small prison without breaking his pace, the Suicide Squad following slowly behind him.
  
  "Err...Jackson, maybe you shouldn't..."
  
  "So tell me, Lady Persephone...what consequences should I be worried about?"
  
  Persephone was beautiful, of course. Despite the cage forcing her to take a two metres-tall appearance instead of the most 'normal' dimensions of a Goddess of her power, despite being a prisoner, the Goddess looked like she was about to give a royal audience...or more likely go dancing in a night club, as her dress revealed a lot of cleavage, and her light brown skin and her brown eyes put together with her light dark brown hair gave her a very seductive vibe.
  
  Perseus wasn't fooled, obviously. The Gods - and the Goddesses - could take the appearances they wanted when they wanted to convince mortals to accomplish their will.
  
  "One day, Perseus Jackson," the Goddess declared coldly, "you will return here to be punished. And on that day, the sentence will be long and dolorous!"
  
  "Why does everyone want to punish me? I am proclaiming my eternal friendship to everyone I meet! By the way, do you want to be my friend, oh Queen of the Underworld?"
  
  If she had not been trapped in this large cage of divine-empowered metal, the leader of the Suicide Squad had no doubt Hades' wife would have incinerated him on the spot.
  
  "Jackson, please...please stop antagonising the Goddess...please."
  
  "Fine, fine, my drunken lieutenant." It was best to keep several jokes for the end of the Quest, anyway. As unpleasant as it was to stare directly in Persephone's eyes, Perseus forced himself to do it. "I presume there was someone else helping Styx."
  
  "How do you...yes, my husband's bastard found several allies." Persephone admitted. "We were taken by surprise. By the Ancient Laws, no deity should have entered the Underworld without our permission, but her claim is based on the blood of my husband. Styx was already inside, and facilitated the invasion. I was unable to identify the other traitor before we were captured, however. He or she hid his or her true essence under a cloak and an armour of Celestial Bronze."
  
  "It was an Olympian," Perseus feigned to be bored. "If Hades didn't participate in the theft, someone had to open the doors for the Lightning Thief at Olympus and only the twelve members of the Council have that kind of power."
  
  It wasn't his father; the Old Man of the Seas would not have let him take this Quest, since his presence was guaranteed to disrupt most of his plans.
  
  It wasn't Zeus; the imbecile had not enough cunning in his divine essence to plan for such an ambitious scheme.
  
  Unfortunately, that left ten other Gods and Goddesses, and most of them were unknown factors from his perspective.
  
  "Jackson, do you realise the kind of accusations you are making?" Nightshade asked.
  
  "I am merely saying the truth," he replied, "I have not heard the Queen of the Underworld interrupting me to proclaim I am wrong."
  
  "He isn't wrong," the dark brown-haired Goddess of Spring and the Underworld nodded, "and I have a feeling you know what my husband's bastard intends to do."
  
  "Usurpation."
  
  This was the only thing which made sense. Otherwise the rituals of Caligula and Julia Drusilla wouldn't have been tolerated. The efforts of Pasiphaë to control the Labyrinth would have been reported to Olympus, because if the Council was blind, any respectable Underworld Lord or Lady should be able to notice their plots.
  
  "The Lightning Thief has a claim, since she's his illegitimate daughter. She has a tool...an altar knife, in the form of the Master Bolt, symbol of power of Thunder and the Sky. Styx supports her, and she has spread stories of usurpation in the Labyrinth, where the Olympians missed them until it was too late. So there is a story and patterns to support her actions, along with divine support."
  
  Seriously, if the Gods were not...Gods, Perseus would have already been able to make them fall from their thrones. For all their power, they weren't really subtle or capable of impressive conspiracies. What a potential of betrayals and plots wasted...
  
  "The only thing I'm missing is where this ambitious thief went with her greatest prisoner," the son of Poseidon inspected the cage, impressed by the enormous amount of work which had gone inside this prison for deities. "Patterns and symbols are important, so if there was a ritual to prepare, I would have expected it to take place here."
  
  "You underestimate the ambition of this cursed child," Persephone said darkly. "She wants to be more than the Goddess of Hell. She wants to be the Absolute Mistress of the Underworld and everything beneath the Earth. Do you understand what I am saying, Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "I do." The Demigod answered. "She's at the old temple above the pit giving access to Tartarus."
  
  "Precisely," the wife of the God of the Underworld confirmed his guess. "Most of the skeletons she bound to her will have done nothing but digging and rebuilding there since the Winter Solstice to make sure the site is an acceptable location for her ritual."
  
  "And when is this ritual supposed to begin?" The son of Nemesis asked grimly.
  
  From one of the rare windows giving a view to outside, a massive red thunderbolt shrieked and fell upon the hellish plains far, far away.
  
  Somehow, the twelve-years-old Demigod didn't believe it was a coincidence.
  
  "It will begin tonight at midnight. Am I wrong?"
  
  "No. The bastard girl came this morning to move the prison of my husband. She taunted me. She said everything was ready and the ritual would be complete by the Summer Solstice."
  
  Yes, yes it would. Assuming Bianca di Angelo had a good plan to drain a God of his divine essence and incorporate it into her body without dying horribly - which she certainly did, if she had bathed in the Styx - twenty-one days sounded like a reasonable amount of time, not too precipitated, but not too slow either, to accomplish a ritual of usurpation.
  
  By the Summer Solstice, Zeus and his band of sycophants would declare war. Only they would realise their monumental mistake when a new Titaness-Goddess rose from the Underworld to fight them. Idly, he wondered which other entity the daughter of Hades wanted to eviscerate besides her father. An Elder Giant, perhaps? The anti-Hades certainly would be a good fit, take the power of the Rich One and the being conceived by Gaia to oppose him...not that it mattered too much.
  
  "I suppose I am going to be forced to stop her, then." As interesting as the plan was, Perseus had the feeling the Lightning Thief was not someone he could just swear his eternal friendship to and hope for the best. "Your help in this endeavour will be appreciated, Queen of Hell."
  
  "This is a prison of Orichalcum, Perseus Jackson," Persephone hotly retorted. "I can't-"
  
  The son of Poseidon threw a vial against the golden divine metal. The effect was...corrosive, pardon the pun. Not enough to destroy the bars of the divine jail outright, but if Persephone hammered it for several hours...
  
  "How?" At least until his death, the ex-Tyrant would be able to boast he had been able to leave a Goddess speechless.
  
  "The Styx waters," he replied simply, "I filled a vial when I pushed our sorceress in it. The Oceanid isn't as clever as she believes."
  
  Then he began to climb up the red stairs leading to the two enormous thrones. And the more he approached them, the more the impression of wrongness intensified.
  
  "Reveal," Perseus ordered.
  
  The air shivered and rippled...and in the next couple of seconds an infernal archway materialised.
  
  It was made entirely of skulls whose dead orbits burned in shining red and malevolent lights. Someone had a flair for the classics...
  
  "Suicide Squad, what are you waiting for? We have a symbol of power to claim back, we must save Private Hades, we have a war to avoid...all that stuff. Plus becoming richer than the wealthiest human billionaire."
  
  "Nice to hear where your priorities are," Dakota McDonald complained.
  
  "I am what I am..." and he wasn't going to apologise.
  
  It was at this instant that Perseus noticed someone had carved letters in the throne of Hades.
  
  Damn, the Demigoddess had no respect for-
  
  Perseus froze, for when he read the first words, the language was not English, Greek, Latin, or any of the dialect used in the Underworld or above it. It wasn't a language he'd heard in this life.
  
  It was Miezan. It was a language of his previous life, one he'd thought there would be no return to.
  
  Worse, the words had not been unknown to him before.
  
  Originally, they had been uttered by Scheherazade the Seer.
  
  Who reigns up high?
  
  A dead man's sigh
  
  What sleeps below?
  
  A crown of woe
  
  That is the Tower
  
  Learn and Cower
  
  "This," the Demigod who had once been named Kairos Theodosian muttered, "is not part of my plan."
  
  Author's note: The Great Quest will continue in chapter 8, the tentative title is Saving Private Hades.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612 (profile name: Antony444)
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Saving Private Hades
  Chapter 8
  
  Saving Private Hades
  
  Tartarus is the darkest and deepest part of the Underworld's realm, and the mere fact of someone unaffected by the Mist saying its name is enough to generate uneasiness in anyone's heart. It is the place where the Olympians imprison their enemies. And it is also the Primordial of the Abyss.
  
  Obviously, Demigods, Demigoddesses, and most beings living in the world of today were - and still are - utterly forbidden to go near it.
  
  It is an interdiction all heroes were very happy to obey.
  
  It was a very understandable position to adopt. After all, if by a series of superlative exploits you managed to evade the armies defending the outer perimeters of the Underworld, the various rivers of Hell on your path, Charon, the Erinyes, and of course Cerberus, you likely had other things to do than trying to visit a place which is both a prison and the place where monsters go to reform once killed.
  
  But Tartarus wasn't the reason the Suicide Squad was here. And the same was true for the Lightning Thief.
  
  At the edge of the abyss, standing impossibly over a precipice which defied even the laws of the Gods by its very existence, was an ancient temple.
  
  It was ancient beyond reckoning. According to the few information-brokers who were aware of its presence, this mass of collapsing columns and cracked stones was ancient before Lord Hades claimed the Throne of the Underworld.
  
  No one remembered who the architect responsible for its construction was, and if the Olympians were aware of it, they never revealed his or her identity. Rumours, rare as they were, whispered this was a joint effort between Nyx and Tartarus, but some sources pointed to an earlier origin, or to someone linked with the Titans now imprisoned in the pits below this ruined edifice.
  
  What was certain did not fill an entire book. One, being found anywhere near it was a death sentence for anyone not approved by the Rich One and his wife. Two, the forgotten temple had been in such a miserable condition that when the Lightning Thief decided to renovate it for her purposes, there was not a lot of things left standing. One might easily acknowledge that for all intent and purposes, an entirely new monument was built to replace the ruins of the old one.
  
  This delay, if one was to be honest, was certainly the only reason the Suicide Squad arrived in time.
  
  It was the end of a journey which had seen the Demigods survive the Labyrinth, the Phlegethon-flooded Asphodel, Styx, Cerberus, and several armies of skeletons and monsters.
  
  There were no more realms to set aflame and cause devastation upon. There was just a temple, the bridge leading to it, and the abyss promising a fall of nine days and nine nights if you were unlucky enough to fall into it.
  
  The last battle of the Great Quest was about to begin.
  
  Extract from the Chapter 12 of Chronicles of the Suicide Squad, by Malcolm Pace, son of Athena
  
  31 May 2006, Approaches to the Pit of Tartarus, the Underworld
  
  The moment Ethan crossed the portal, the son of Nemesis found himself regretting the decoration of Hades' palace. Yes, there had been a lot of skulls and hell-themed decorations. But there also had been light, if only in the form of the Underworld flames and bones structure bearing large lanterns.
  
  There was none of that here.
  
  They had arrived on a sort of...belvedere, if that was the adequate word. Under his boots, the ground was uneven, grey, and dusty.
  
  It was a really sinister atmosphere. After a few seconds, his eyes adapted to the penumbra surrounded them, and he could see their arrival ground was large enough to welcome twenty or thirty Demigods, never mind eleven, one Minotaur, and one Hellhound.
  
  But no electrical or magical lights were switched on. The sound of animals or enemies didn't arrive to their ears.
  
  There was just a long, gloomy silence of bad omen.
  
  The location they had just been transported to was dead.
  
  "Burn," Jackson murmured, and one of the torches the son of Poseidon had grabbed out of his never-ending artefact bags erupted in flames, allowing the seven who had crossed the portal first the opportunity to see where they were.
  
  And personally, Ethan immediately regretted it.
  
  "By the Gods..." The belvedere had only one more access besides the portal: dusty stone stairs which had clearly seen better days. Minor consolation, they were very large. Five or six Demigods could walk them together. The problem was what waited after.
  
  There was a bridge. And it was suspended above an ocean of blackness.
  
  "Is it what I think it is?" the black-haired swordsman asked.
  
  "The fastest method to reach the Pits where an eternity of torment awaits," the son of Poseidon cleared his throat. "In the interest of continuing our long and fruitful cooperation, may I suggest everyone avoid falling into that? According to the legends, you experience nine days and nine nights of free fall before being killed...and I doubt anyone wants to verify it the old-fashioned way."
  
  Naturally, this moment of seriousness didn't last.
  
  "Of course, how someone can distinguish between night and day when being prisoner of a space absorbing all light is one of those interesting mysteries no one has ever told me the answer to."
  
  "Jackson..." Zoë Nightshade growled, her new silver armour giving an appreciable amount of light in this obscurity. "This is a cursed place. We aren't supposed to be there."
  
  "On this point, I completely agree, Huntress." The boy who had become their leader in every way which counted replied. "It is not a place for the living. But it is the Lightning Thief who has apparently decided to organise her little usurpation ritual here, not me."
  
  "Do we have a plan of attack?" Clarisse La Rue smirked after hearing Jackson diverted the blame onto someone else's shoulders...again. "I'm not saying we should try to equal Wellington at Waterloo or another masterful tactician, but a simple plan dividing up the roles would be fine."
  
  "We kill everything that stands on our way, the only exception being the Lightning Thief." The son of the Earthshaker immediately answered. "We find where Hades is imprisoned, and by the hell rivers which shouldn't be named, don't free him until I have had the time to negotiate an amnesty for our past actions."
  
  "You're always going to put your desires before those of the Quest, don't you?" the blonde daughter of Athena snapped. Sometimes Ethan was surprised her mother wasn't the Goddess of Vindictiveness and Military Retaliation.
  
  "Your Owlishness," because Perseus Jackson was never missing the opportunity to talk back. And he articulated the words with a tone which was very close from saying 'your Foolishness'. "If it is your wish to pay for the flooding of the Asphodel Fields and the small sum of collateral damage we might have caused since our arrival into the Underworld, far from me the idea to discourage you. In my humble opinion however, a negotiated amnesty backed by a Styx Oath is a far less dangerous option than relying upon the generosity of the Dark One."
  
  "Lord Hades...might reward us." Dakota McDonald said weakly. "We are to make sure the Lightning Thief doesn't cause a huge war between the Olympians, right?"
  
  "Right," and nearly everyone rolled his or her eyes at the ironic voice of their green-eyed leader. "Aside from the amnesty, we must recover the Trident as fast as possible. It is likely the only thing which will allow us to stand against a daughter of Hades fighting in her home realm."
  
  "We swore a vow we couldn't act against her, except in self-defence." Ethan reminded him.
  
  "True. But she doesn't know that." The mad boy's smile was back. "And it only applies to the Lightning Thief anyway. The rest of her accomplices are fair game."
  
  "There shouldn't be many of them," Luke Castellan was visibly unconvinced. "Why would they be? The portal is the only way to come here unless you have wings or teleportation skills."
  
  "There must be at least a few skeletons," Perseus Jackson smiled. "If Hades' cage is the size of Persephone, it had to be dragged across the bridge the old-fashioned way."
  
  "You know something we don't." Miranda Gardiner accused him.
  
  "Guilty as charged," the younger Demigod said cheekily. "Now where were we-"
  
  A loud, relentless rumble broke the silence, and from the obscurity clouding the other extremity of the bridge, a monstrous red lightning materialised.
  
  It was so bright that for a few seconds, Ethan thought the phenomenon could truly chase away the supernatural darkness of Tartarus.
  
  It didn't, though. Instead it was like a sort of gigantic bell rang, and a powerful reddish halo shrouded the sinister temple revealed by this explosion of light and thunder.
  
  "Well," Lou Ellen searched her words. "That was...spectacular. We are going to...fight the Demigoddess capable to do that?"
  
  "We are so going to die..." Jake Mason brayed.
  
  "The Master Bolt has been attuned for the ritual," Perseus Jackson commented as if he saw something like that every day. "I suggest we eat and drink there-"
  
  "The Lightning Thief is about to begin her ritual, and you want to drink and eat?" Annabeth Chase looked completely furious, and the son of Nemesis didn't think the light of the torches had anything to do with that.
  
  "Look at the length of the bridge and its inclination, your Owlishness. We will need a good twenty minutes to cross it...and we don't know what kind of welcome we will receive on the other side. It is not improbable we will have to fight for our lives before we can enter the Temple of Tartarus...so yes, we rest. We eat. And we drink. Because with the enemy having someone blessed by the Styx and able to capture several Gods, we are going to need everything we need and more to succeed."
  
  "This is it, then?"
  
  "Yes. This is it." Jackson caressed the Hellhound before giving her what had to be one of his last cookies. "It's time to shake the world one more time."
  
  1 June 2006, the Bridge over the Pit of Tartarus, the Underworld
  
  Miranda didn't like the Underworld. What was there to like in such a realm of death for a daughter of Demeter?
  
  Yes, the Demigoddess recognised the existence of Hades' realm was a necessity; it didn't mean she had to appreciate the landscape and everything the Rich One had built over the last millennia.
  
  Yet compared to the edge of Tartarus, Hades' realm was a delight to behold. The animals were undead and were made of bones, but there was some semblance of life, be it in dead skeletons, shrieking souls, and undead flora.
  
  There was none of that here.
  
  Save guttural noises made by the ritual of the Lightning Thief, the bridge they were walking upon was greyness and impossible silence.
  
  Everything was dead.
  
  Daughter of Demeter or not, Demigoddess or not, Miranda knew everything in this god-forsaken realm was unnatural...and evil.
  
  What could you expect from a large amount of life where no flowers, no trees, no seeds, could grow?
  
  And here there weren't even the souls of the departed to create an illusion of life?
  
  "Shouldn't be there more traps?" Luke asked the son of Poseidon as the two had taken the lead and routinely paused to verify the disabled skeletons on the bridge were not waiting to stab them when they weren't looking.
  
  "They should and they shouldn't," the other male Demigod unhelpfully replied.
  
  "Sometimes I think you should have been a son of Janus."
  
  "You're wounding me," Perseus Jackson gasped before clearing placing his hand above his hurt like he had been shot by an arrow there. "Fine. I think that as long as the God of the Underworld was prisoner in his own palace, there must have been a considerable amount of traps here. But since our enemy was forced to drag her genitor's cage here, many enchanted arrow flights, poison clouds, and other unpleasant surprises were dismantled. The Rich One may be imprisoned, but he isn't going to cooperate with the Lightning Thief. Look at how many unanimated skeletons there are on this bridge. At a guess, the Olympus King's brother tried to leech off their power while they transported him across the bridge."
  
  "If I was the Lightning Thief, I would have created new traps," Blackstone pointed out.
  
  "If I was the Lightning Thief," Jackson smiled, "I would proceed like she did. If someone inimical manages to defeat the entirety of your defensive preparations before the Dark Palace, two or three skeletons and half a dozen traps aren't going to be enough anyway. It's best to keep your strength for the main event."
  
  The next minutes were spent in relative silence. Be it the silence or the malevolent appearance of the temple ahead, there was something in the air which didn't encourage you to talk.
  
  It was only as they arrived on the other side - and many Questers sighed in relief at the fact they hadn't been forced to fight with the abyss so close to them - that Miranda felt something...disgusting close.
  
  "Jackson, there's something ahead."
  
  "Yes. Observation."
  
  A weak light of blue pulsed from his left hand, and in the space separating them from the first large columns modelled on the Athenian Acropolis, a sort of...tree revealed itself.
  
  It was very ugly. Whatever sap this black shrub used, it had to be something inimical to life.
  
  Its branches were filled with thorns and the things they carried were more akin to daggers than anything which could be described as 'leaves'.
  
  "What is that?"
  
  "If you're asking for a name, I'm afraid I have no idea," Jackson admitted with a childish joy. "It must be something from the Fields of Punishment, or something dragged from...below. What I am rather sure of is that if we try to go closer, it will sound the alarm."
  
  "Even if I burn it with Hellfire?" Lou Ellen wondered. Damn, the daughter of Hecate was truly becoming an unchecked pyromaniac the longer this Great Quest lasted...
  
  "Especially if you burn it with Hellfire," the son of Poseidon chuckled. "Mind you, it would definitely destroy the trap, but I want to preserve the effect of surprise. It is better to ambush an enemy in the middle of a ritual than let him or her ambush you, especially as we have no idea as the layout of this temple."
  
  This sounded really reasonable, by the standards Jackson had shown so far. Why had she the feeling she wasn't going to like what came after?
  
  "And how do you intend to do it?" Drew Tanaka raised her eyebrows. "You are going to use another artefact 'borrowed' from a deity store?"
  
  "I detect a small amount of mockery in your tone, my seducing lieutenant," the younger Demigod was prompt to tease her. "And as a matter, I have something I think I will deal with this obstacle. The problem is that I can't use it. I have no skill in Chlorokinesis."
  
  Of course not, you needed a son or a daughter of Demeter for that. Her feeling she wasn't going to like it was verified very easily, no?
  
  "Tell me what I have to do, Jackson." She doubted anyone was going to say her reluctance was unjustified. "We aren't going to dance around the subject all night."
  
  The mad Demigod searched inside his bags for a while before handing her a small shield, one representing a sort of brown ivy which was way too small to be of any use militarily.
  
  "Err...yes? Do you intend me to use it like a boomerang?"
  
  The creator of the 'Suicide Squad' gave her one of those expressions one only gives to the people with very limited intellectual capacities.
  
  "The plant you use as a weapon is inside the shield. By using your Chlorokinesis, you will able to grow it and direct it against this black seed without raising the alarms."
  
  Miranda didn't feel it was going to work. To grow a plant until it could be something large enough to take the repulsive 'tree' in front of them, she would need a lot of light and water. This wasn't going to work.
  
  She grabbed the shield from Jackson's hands and pushed the power every daughter of Demeter possessed into this block of metal. The reaction was instantaneous. Before she could do more than blink, a colossal mass of bronze-coloured ivy tore the shield apart and it was only instinct which allowed her to mentally push it to attack the twisted thing from the Underworld.
  
  A second later, Miranda Gardiner realised it wasn't bronze-coloured ivy at all; it was an ivy made of bronze, the metal, period.
  
  The shield was torn apart. And so was the plant of the Fields of Punishment. The ivy grew at a fantastical rate and acted upon her urging like a colossal snake snuffing out whatever 'life' had been given to this awful thing.
  
  "Miranda...your arms!"
  
  The young Demigoddess stopped using her power, but it was too late. While she had been focused on destroying the trap, the ivy had covered her hands and her forearms. Now she had...it was like she was wearing long gloves of bronze. Her arms were now covered in leaves of metal!
  
  "How?"
  
  "Jackson! Remove it!" Nightshade barked.
  
  Past the initial moment of stupefaction, Miranda felt it was...astonishing. The bronze ivy was tied to her in an...intimate way. She could control its thickness, how fast it grew, and many other things that had ever been denied her even with the most obedient plants.
  
  It was a weapon no one would be able to remove from her, not without ending her life first.
  
  "I like it," the daughter of Demeter directed the recently 'carpet' of leaves and metallic vegetation at the roots of the enemy creation, and as the black roots were devoured, Miranda felt herself gaining strength. The bond with the bronze ivy grew stronger, and she acknowledged it would be a symbiotic relationship between them. "Thank you, Jackson."
  
  "Great," Dakota moaned. "One more soul lost to Suicide Squad madness..."
  
  1 June 2006, Tartarus Temple, the Underworld
  
  From the outside, the 'Tartarus Temple' looked very much like a miniature replica of the famous Acropolis of Athens.
  
  Once you were inside, this resemblance faded very quickly.
  
  It was as the further you stepped in, the pretense of civilisation was eroding and eroding until nothing was left.
  
  The rare statues of Greek heroes went on to become particularly repulsive and monstrous, until the things carved in onyx and dark metals couldn't be described as anything but demons.
  
  The columns were initially Greek, but abandoned fast this noble aspect to look like something you found in your darkest nightmares.
  
  Unfortunately, while the ritual site was calling for something dark and primal, it wasn't exactly difficult to defend. The further they advanced, the fewer the columns and the more difficult it was to be unseen.
  
  At last they weren't anything to hide behind, and the Suicide Squad was forced to stop.
  
  They had found the Lightning Thief and the Master Bolt.
  
  Unfortunately, they were far from alone.
  
  "Jackson," the Huntress whispered angrily, "who is the boy?"
  
  "Unless my contacts lied to me, this is Nico di Angelo, Bianca's younger brother."
  
  "Tell me it's a joke..." Ethan Nakamura spoke grimly. "We have to face two children of Hades?"
  
  "Don't forget the fifty-plus skeletons he commands," Clarisse intervened.
  
  "Oh yes, how could I forget them?"
  
  "We must attack immediately," Annabeth urged. "The ritual has begun, but Hades is still in his cage. If we free him now-"
  
  "You will die long before touching his cage," Perseus Jackson interrupted. "Do you see what Bianca di Angelo has in her right hand?"
  
  "It is rather difficult to miss it," Luke rolled his eyes.
  
  It was true. The Master Bolt was continuously generating enormous red sparkles, and at irregular intervals, it was becoming far more than that, being used as a powerful red instrument to carve the Greek runes into the very ground of the temple.
  
  Suddenly, the sheer magnitude of the effort necessary for this ritual was making her half-sister's usurpation of the Labyrinth look like a minor challenge. Because the columns had all the symbols of the Antiquity alphabet plus others she didn't recognise. The ground had been carved by thousands, maybe tens of thousands glyphs and complex geometrical figures.
  
  And given how fast Bianca di Angelo was working, Lou Ellen was ready to bet all the money promised by Jackson and then some that the daughter of Hades had done it alone and unsupported.
  
  The skeletons certainly had been of no use, and her brother didn't look like he was there for more than the moral support. However, there was something interesting about him.
  
  "He has the Trident."
  
  "I could...distract him." Drew proposed.
  
  "Yes, you could," by the way he was behaving, Perseus was struggling not to laugh. "I'm sure the son of Hades won't have any problems succumbing to your Charmspeak. Alas, I don't think it would last long enough for you to catch the Trident. The Master Bolt can strike and kill faster than you say it."
  
  The last sentence was uttered deadly seriously, and the sorceress had no doubt it was because Jackson had already seen it in action.
  
  "Besides, the boy might be homosexual."
  
  "What makes you say that?"
  
  "The way he's looking at his imprisoned father. Either he's hesitating a lot at the moment of triumph, or the appearance of his genitor is impressing him for all the right reasons."
  
  "It's true Hades is...impressive." Clarisse recognised.
  
  Lou Ellen had to acknowledge both she and Jackson weren't wrong. Even trapped inside this 'Orichalcum cage', Hades had a presence which managed to be attractive and terrifying at the same time.
  
  He was not muscular like a professional athlete. He wasn't saying anything. But everything they could see from here was radiating menace and dark charisma like no one had. Despite wearing black clothes which had seen better days, no one would be able to mistake him for a mere mortal, even if he wasn't more than two metres tall.
  
  There was no doubt he was the father of the Lightning Thief. She had olive skin while he was impossibly pale of face, and his hair were short, almost to military regulations where her dark hair flowed over her shoulders, but there was the same...dangerous aura around them.
  
  "Jackson," the Huntress of Artemis whispered, "tell me her ritual isn't going to work."
  
  "It is going to work if we don't sabotage it," the son of Poseidon immediately went to on disappoint Zoë Nightshade. "I wasn't lying when I spoke to Persephone. Bianca di Angelo has Hades prisoner. She has a ritual site of great power: do you see the two pillars which are so close to the temple's edge? This is where Hades is going to be dragged once the preliminaries are over. One also needs something to hurt a deity and serve as the altar dagger. The Master Bolt of the Olympians is more than sufficient for that purpose. Being his illegitimate daughter, the Lightning Thief is a suitable claimant. Being imprisoned in the Lotus Casino for several decades, hers is a story of legitimate vengeance. As for the patterns and all the minor details, I'm sure she has thought of everything. This is not a hasty and cheap plan which is unfolding before us, Suicide Squad."
  
  "You leave one detail aside: how she is going to survive coming into contact with the divine ichor of a powerful God?" Ethan spoke. "Seriously, when Lou Ellen bathed in the Styx, she looked half-dead just after she came out!"
  
  "Funny you mention this," the mad boy smirked. "I think she has bathed in all the Rivers of the Underworld as part of her ritual preparations. Bathing in the Oceanid's domain considerably increase the resistance of your body, the Phlegethon keeps you alive no matter the wounds and the ordeals as long as they aren't lethal, and the Acheron absorbs the sins of humanity in the service of greater power...but that's just my speculation, evidently."
  
  "Evidently," Drew nodded. "What are-"
  
  "It is time. Bring me the Sarcophagus!"
  
  The voice of the Lightning Thief echoed in the Tartarus Temple, and Lou Ellen shivered, for if this voice was definitely belonging to a teenager mouth, it was a tone of command. It was like Authority itself was making its will known, and the skeletons must have felt it too even in undeath, because ten of them ran to obey her orders.
  
  Behind a sort of tent which had remained at the edge of their field of vision, the undead warriors worked fast and soon the sarcophagus Bianca di Angelo had called for appeared under the reddish lights created by the Master Bolt and the enchanted torches of the ritual.
  
  "By the pits..."
  
  It was far too big for a human sarcophagus. It was easily three metres long, and that was a conservative estimate.
  
  It was made in the same golden metal, the 'Orichalcum', which was used to imprison Hades and Persephone.
  
  But somehow, despite it shining in golden light, the more it approached from the carved circles and the Demigoddess waiting, the more the air got colder and Lou Ellen thought she heard screams of agony echo in the distance.
  
  On the side of the monumental sarcophagus waited a fortune in rare metals and precious gems, but it somehow was an afterthought, because elaborate scenes of atrocities and massacres had been magically added into the golden metal.
  
  Somehow, the daughter of Hecate knew nothing good could come from using something like that.
  
  It really didn't matter if one was loyal to Olympus or not.
  
  The Lightning Thief had made her intentions clear by ordering the construction of something so abominable. Heiress to Hades she might be, but Lou Ellen had no doubt anymore her reign would be ten times bloodier than anything Hades had ever done.
  
  And the way the olive-skinned girl was standing was confirming her worst nightmares. In her simple black robe, Master Bolt in hand, the simplicity of her clothes and behaviour made evident she intended to establish a reign of terror.
  
  "It is not too late to abandon this folly, daughter." Hades said, and for a second she slightly panicked, fearing the God was going to reveal their presence, but his daughter did turn towards him and did not appear to consider this possibility.
  
  "I preferred when you were staying silent," the Lightning Thief frowned. "Be quiet, or I will gag you. Nico? I am ready to begin the next phase of the ritual."
  
  The former Dread Empress wasn't disappointing, oh no.
  
  It could be a former Dread Emperor trapped into a female body assuredly, but Perseus didn't think so. First, because he had been a man a life ago, and been reborn a man. It stood to reason that if the same thing was repeated in the case of Bianca di Angelo, she was a woman too.
  
  So yes, the ex-Tyrant estimated the odds were of ninety-nine percent this was a former Dread Empress in a Demigoddess body.
  
  And she wasn't one of the 'walking disasters' which turned the Dread Empire of Praes into the joke of the continent.
  
  It wasn't Dread Empress Sinistra the First. The woman had been damned good at sorcery, but her grand goal of 'stealing the Callowan weather' had been an unmitigated disaster in its execution. If Sinistra was reborn as Bianca di Angelo, the Palace of Hades would have already been torn apart by some powerful explosions and lighting would rain randomly everywhere in the Underworld.
  
  It couldn't be Sinistra the Fourth. The woman had the ambition to become a Goddess - something Perseus deeply respected - but her inability to see story patterns screwing up her plans would have made sure she failed long before stealing the Master Bolt of Zeus.
  
  It couldn't be Dread Empress Sanguinia the First, also known as the Gourmet. In the contrary case, there would be scenes of cannibalism playing out in this temple, and a lot more dried blood everywhere.
  
  Dread Empress Atrocious? There had been no man-eating tapirs anywhere in the Underworld, more the pity. Dread Empress Malevolent the Second? She would have already invaded the United States with an invisible army. Sanguinia the Second? Being taller than her and having cats hadn't been outlawed anywhere near Hell. Sanguinara? Cerberus would have been well-fed if it was her, since she made any and all law-breaking a capital offence. The two Dread Empresses bearing the Regalia name? He hadn't seen any flying fortresses so far. Vindictive the Third? She hadn't shown any inclination she wanted to turn into a giant snake.
  
  No, given the skill shown to create the ritual grounds and prepare all the 'ingredients', the Suicide Squad truly faced a mistress of planning and a talented sorceress knowing her limits. This left three major possibilities: Dread Empress Maleficent the Second, best known for her invasion of the Free Cities and great sponsor of major sorcery works, Dread Empress Maledicta the First, whose plans to consolidate her power with armies of undead and near-impenetrable wards made her feared for countless generations, and...her. But it couldn't be her. They would be fighting for their very lives against a tide of demons if it was her.
  
  "Jackson! When do we attack?"
  
  "Patience, Augustina," he told the impatient daughter of Athena in a whisper. "One might almost think you want the Master Bolt to carve a big hole in your chest."
  
  "Surely you have an artefact which will allow you to survive the lightning of this weapon long enough to disarm her."
  
  "Your faith in my abilities is touching, Clarisse...but no. I have an artefact for myself and my sorceress lieutenant disposes of a consequent immunity since she bathed in the Styx. But I have no idea if it will last ten seconds against one of the foremost magical practitioners of this world."
  
  Even on Calernia a lifetime ago, there wouldn't have been many sorcerers who had the ambition and the skill to prepare a ritual of the scale of the one they were seeing with so little manpower.
  
  "It's better to wait."
  
  "Jackson. They have brought this...this sarcophagus." The Huntress of Artemis whispered angrily. "There is no time to waste!"
  
  "There isn't." The ex-Tyrant was forced to admit. "But the very reason why this sarcophagus is here is that someone will be inside soon. I'm betting it will be the Lightning Thief herself."
  
  "And if you're wrong? If it is the Rich One who is thrown into this...abominable container?"
  
  "I find it unlikely. But if I'm wrong, we will have no choice but to attack before the God is trapped inside."
  
  This wasn't a scenario which filled him with eagerness. Not only Bianca di Angelo had the Master Bolt, she had the Styx pseudo-invincibility, the Underworld-presence boost, and they wouldn't get the effect of surprise, not with the skeleton warriors forming a security perimeter.
  
  "I don't see the 'accomplice' Persephone spoke about." The son of Nemesis commented. "The one who helped the Thief gain access to the throne room of Olympus."
  
  "He or she is certainly still on Mount Olympus, playing his or her role of loyalist. That's why my plan to wait is excellent. If the Lightning Thief is in the sarcophagus, there's no way she will summon her ally."
  
  "Can we destroy the sarcophagus once she's inside?" Lou Ellen Blackstone asked.
  
  "We probably can't. It's Orichalcum, this stuff has resistance to Hell waters, though it's not absolute. Fortunately, we won't have to try. I'm sure a certain God will be more than happy to blast this sarcophagus to oblivion once he will be freed."
  
  "I don't like your plan, Jackson." Jake Mason brayed, fortunately the sound as light as it was, was completely made irrelevant by the Master Bolt carving stone and projecting power everywhere with its loud shrieking.
  
  "Come on, my defeatist donkey lieutenant. Isn't it a better story to interrupt the evil plan of the Lightning Thief when she is convinced nothing can stop her anymore?"
  
  And Hades likely found it very funny too. Despite being prisoner, there was no way the eldest brother of Zeus hadn't felt their presence. For all the severe restrictions on his power, the chances were good the imprisoned Master of the Underworld had noticed their presence the moment they crossed the portal and arrived in this sub-realm.
  
  "Bind."
  
  The simple verb was filled with overwhelming power, and in three seconds the cage melted to transform into antique golden chains around Hades' godly essence.
  
  There were a lot of them...and an enormous collar and several ugly bracelets around his wrists made sure escape wasn't possible.
  
  "So that's how you dragged him here..." It made more sense than the cage...and Perseus increased once more time his estimations of the danger Bianca represented.
  
  "How the hell did she magically forge something like that?" the blonde-haired daughter of Hecate murmured with an astonished expression. All the while more skeletons crawled out from a hole next to where the cage had stood, and they began to drag Hades in direction of the twin pillars waiting at the very edge of the temple, mere feet away from the abyss.
  
  "She is resourceful."
  
  The olive-skinned girl began to sing a complex song of power, and Perseus was ready to freely admit he didn't understand a single word of it. It was not English, Greek, or any language he'd ever learned in a past life.
  
  The effect, however, was instantly visible. The very air and earth of the Tartarus Temple brimmed with power.
  
  There was something weird about seeing dozens of skeletons use their bone strength to drag away a God in chains. Dakota might have been almost tempted to smile...if they weren't a hundred metres away from the darkness leading to Tartarus.
  
  Oh, and if the cold hard floor of the Tartarus Temple wasn't pulsing in crimson light around them. The world was shining crimson in fact. Every symbol carved on the pillars, the ceiling and everywhere else was shining red, there was so many red lights it appeared the walls and the roof were bleeding upon them.
  
  Fortunately, they didn't...yet.
  
  Dakota looked at the sarcophagus, and noticed the lid had been opened, and now a few skeletons were pouring in it the content of several jars.
  
  If their surroundings shone red, the evil thing at the centre of the ritual ground was somehow emanating a golden light...and it gave him the urge to vomit just by looking like it. It wasn't something natural which caused the phenomenon, Dakota was sure of it.
  
  "Nico, are you ready?"
  
  "Yes, Bianca. I am ready."
  
  "Good."
  
  And then the Lightning Thief did something that made him cough a lot. And if by the warmth he felt everywhere was any indication, the son of Bacchus knew he had to blush like a tomato.
  
  The daughter of Hades had removed in a hurry the black 'sorceress dress' she wore...revealing she had absolutely no piece of cloth underneath.
  
  "For the record," Hades remarked with an undertone of amusement. "I am not into incest."
  
  His daughter's voice was prompt to give him a retort.
  
  "That's why you chose Persephone as your wife. Because a niece is better than a sister? Don't worry, father. I am not Zeus."
  
  The Lightning Thief marched and sang all the way to the crude teeth-pillars where the golden chains keeping Hades' powerless were solidly fastened.
  
  There was something oddly...primal and disturbing about seeing this Demigoddess walk alone, naked, as the skeleton warriors prostrated themselves on the floor of the Tartarus Temple.
  
  Save the Master Bolt shrieking and shining crimson red in her right hand, she had no jewellery, no artefacts, nothing formidable...and yet somehow Dakota was convinced this was a Demigoddess at least as dangerous as Perseus...before she bathed in the Styx.
  
  A few seconds later, the younger son of Hades followed her, though he didn't walk up the narrowing path leading to the 'prisoner's pillars' where his father was immobilised.
  
  "Your grievances are justified, but you can't win." Hades tried one more time, and Dakota knew the God must have felt them...somehow.
  
  "I disagree," his daughter said darkly...and then she placed the Master Bolt directly against his forearm.
  
  A small cut was made...and the wound immediately began to close.
  
  Holy...even against divine weapons, the Olympians could regenerate that fast?
  
  "Bleed."
  
  The Master Bolt's pressure increased, and this time a small trickle of golden blood began to pour out, immediately falling into the miniature channel which connected the pillars and the sarcophagus.
  
  Bianca di Angelo turned back. Dakota had expected to see something like a gleeful expression of triumph on her face, but the mood of the Lightning Thief was best summed-up as 'darkly determined'.
  
  On her way back, the Demigoddess gave the Master Bolt to her brother.
  
  "Don't falter, Nico. We need to be strong."
  
  "Yes, sister."
  
  Bianca di Angelo breathed out, and then finished closing the distance with the sarcophagus, as the golden flames of Hades' ichor continued flowing in the channel and soon would reach the Orichalcum 'coffin'.
  
  The Lightning Thief climbed over the monumental carving of wars and slaughters, and lied down inside it. She couldn't repress a small scream of pain when she did, however.
  
  "Sister?"
  
  "Don't...falter." Whatever had been in the urns, it was obviously something incredibly bad...bad enough to cause pain to someone having received the Curse of Achilles.
  
  The skeletons put back the lid of the sarcophagus in place, and a new blast of golden light followed, with loud noises of some infernal machinery ringing out for a few long seconds.
  
  "It...it worked!" The son of Hades sounded very relieved.
  
  The bleeding off Hades' wound intensified, and in a couple of seconds the first drops of golden ichor touched the horrible sarcophagus, making it shine like a miniature sun.
  
  The channel between Hades and the 'coffin' of the Lightning Thief was a line of golden ichor...a straight line of golden flames.
  
  "Son..." The Lord of the Underworld did his best to keep his voice calm, but for the first time, it was obvious he was really in pain. "I forgive you. And I will do my best to keep you alive from Zeus' wrath."
  
  "What?" Nico di Angelo had obviously not expected these words from his father. "But you...but we...you are our prisoner. You are powerless, and Bianca is going to take your throne and-"
  
  "Heroes. I think you can intervene now...please."
  
  "Well if it is so nicely asked," Perseus Jackson chuckled before raising his sword. "SUICIDE SQUAD! ATTACK!"
  
  "SUICIDE SQUAD! ATTACK!"
  
  "AT LAST!" The daughter of Ares screamed.
  
  Speaking and waiting may be fine for the children of Athena, but the sons and daughters of the God of War needed far more than that!
  
  They needed violence, clash of arms, and challenges.
  
  That was why Clarisse charged the enemy, raised her spear and-
  
  The Minotaur slammed into the line of skeletons like it didn't exist.
  
  "Kill-stealer!" She screamed while plunging her spear in the dead chest of a skeleton and pulverising it.
  
  "I don't steal, loud one," the bull-headed monster snorted. "Not my fault you are too slow."
  
  "Oh, you want to play it that way..."
  
  "Rise, fallen scions of Sparta!" the son of Hades exclaimed, and the few skeletons who remained were reinforced by at last sixty more. "Kill the intruders!"
  
  "The first to reach one hundred wins!" the daughter of Ares used Carnifex to become a storm of death and violence, demolishing wave after wave of skeletons faster than they appeared. To her displeasure, the Minotaur was accelerating too and keeping her pace...
  
  "No! Tormentors of the Fields of Punishment hear my summons!" the black-haired brother of the Lightning Thief shouted, but nothing appeared. Clarisse laughed...only to grimace as a powerful red bolt struck Lou Ellen.
  
  "YES!" Nico di Angelo exulted only for his smile to turn into horror as the blonde Demigoddess stood up unwounded, with only a large hole in her armour to prove the attack had been real. "No! This isn't fair! This isn't-"
  
  The enemy boy stopped speaking, maybe because Jackson had placed his sword against his throat. At the same time, Nightshade's silver arrows were raining down upon the skeleton battalion, and the survivors were strangled by the metallic ivy.
  
  "This isn't fair," their leader agreed. "The Trident, please."
  
  "You can't-"
  
  "I can't? I think a few Gods would reward me greatly if I brought them your head, Nico di Angelo."
  
  "Please abstain, Perseus Jackson." Hades intervened. "I only have those two children, and unlike my idiot of a brother, I will not sire any as long as the Oath I made after World War II stands."
  
  "They are trying to usurp your power and your realm."
  
  "I did not say I wasn't going to punish them." The black eyes were...you could feel the menace from there where she stood. "I just demand you don't kill him."
  
  "Oh, good. Sleep."
  
  And the son of Hades collapsed like he had suddenly been awake for several days and was now realising he needed to catch up with an invisible pillow. Jackson was really a bastard to fight when he did that.
  
  "Now where were we?" the son of Poseidon smiled while grabbing the Trident of his father from the hand of Nico di Angelo.
  
  Clarisse finished the last skeleton which was still standing, and tried to seize the Master Bolt of Zeus...but before she could seize it, she felt something really bad crawling on her skin.
  
  "Shit, the Oath..."
  
  "The Oath," Jackson nodded. "Fortunately, a certain Oceanid was really neglectful and in her haste did not even bother waiting for someone to return from his sabotage operation. We Demigods can't touch the Master Bolt. But Asterius can."
  
  And indeed the Minotaur proved it a second later, leaving the sleeping Demigod with no godly symbols of power.
  
  "And so we have successfully completed the Great Quest!"
  
  "I present you my congratulations," Hades' voice boomed in a very terrifying manner. "Now are you ready to free me from these chains?"
  
  "Now are you ready to free me from these chains?"
  
  As amusing as it would have been to let one of Zeus' brothers get a lesson of humility, Perseus decided he still needed a relatively good relationship with the Lord of Hell, as part of his ever-changing plan and associated contingencies.
  
  After all, while it was doubtful Hades would be so grateful as to protect him from Zeus' wrath forever, having him as a long-term enemy was kind of counter-indicated.
  
  And so he walked towards the bound God, Trident in hand.
  
  It was hardly something easy. The symbol of power of his father was like he had received ten Names in his body, to the point he believed it was something nearly equal to receiving the Styx Curse. But for each step taken in this direction, the air burned in his lungs. And as he finally walked near the 'ichor channel', it was like he was standing above an ocean of lava and other hellishly-hot things.
  
  This was truly the power of Hades torn from his grasp, a substance commanding the fires of the Underworld, billions upon billions of dead souls, and every radioactive stone sufficiently under the surface to not be claimed by another deity.
  
  "I want an amnesty for every member of the Great Quest participating in your...rescue," the green-eyed Demigod sweated profusely as at last he arrived in position to strike and immediately began his attempt of breaking the chain tying Hades' intact arm. The other was a cascade of flame-ichor, it was best to leave it for the second round.
  
  Normally he would have delayed the 'negotiations', but the longer he stayed here, the longer he was going to stay here, and being cooked alive like an ordinary crustacean was not his lifetime ambition.
  
  "Don't you think you are forgetting something?" Hades asked quizzically.
  
  "Something? Oh, Asterius, be a dear and place the Master Bolt in the channel to interrupt the ritual."
  
  "Excellent work," Hades grinned as the flow of ichor significantly increased when his ally blocked the progression of the deity's blood, lessening the temperature. "But I was not referring to that. You see Perseus Jackson, I am the Lord of the Underworld. I was prisoner and thus unable to intervene, but the moment you stepped out from the Labyrinth, I was aware of it."
  
  Ah...damn it. It was way more range than he had thought the Rich One would ever have once it was certain neither Hades nor Persephone would intervene directly against them.
  
  Well, nothing to do but smile and be brave in front of his 'uncle'.
  
  "Would it help if I say it wasn't personal?"
  
  "It does," the Dark God nodded as the Trident managed to slice the first chain out of six binding his arm. "And yes, you will have you and your fellow Questers will have your amnesty. I swear it on the Styx."
  
  A rumble sounded in the distance, an unbreakable vow being accepted.
  
  A second chain snapped as the blue-green power of Poseidon tore the crimson-infused Orichalcum binding.
  
  "Why, if I may ask? I'm glad of your...leniency, of course. But I caused a bit of collateral damage..."
  
  "The damage will be measured in billions of Drachma," the God corrected. "And yet you have changed my domain forever. Something I was unable to do, restricted as I was by the Ancient Rules. Styx and Phlegethon have a new rivalry, and the pensions of Asphodel draining my finances have suddenly been reduced to zero. I may very well instead install a system where rich deceased pay for being invited to luxury cruises on the new Asphodel Ocean."
  
  Perseus was impressed. So far, all the Gods he had met were not and would likely never be shrew businessmen. Yet even imprisoned, Hades was already taking advantage of something he had neither engineered nor been able to account for before.
  
  The power flowed in the Trident and himself. The more he used it, the more it was...intoxicating. Especially as the infernal temperature decreased and the ichor ceased to project this volcano-level warmth everywhere.
  
  The last chain snapped for the unharmed arm. He shifted his efforts to the left leg - from Hades' perspective that is - while the Rich One went to use his freed limb to strike the chains binding his other arm. It was quite...fascinating seeing the fingers leave their imprint into the harder-than-diamond metal.
  
  "It is not a complaint," Hades spoke as he broke another chain, and the Trident tore into another one centimetre by centimetre. "But why were you sent so late? Unless the Labyrinth delayed you by months?"
  
  Oh, the truth was going to be fun.
  
  "I'm afraid your Lordly brother, the Master of Olympus, was entirely convinced your daughter acted upon your orders when she stole the Master Bolt and the Trident. The last months have been essentially been spent preparing the forces of Olympus for war. If not for my father, this Quest wouldn't have been sent as a face-saving measure."
  
  The pale face of Hades became extremely angry, and his eyes turned crimson red. The might of his blows to free himself doubled or tripled in intensity.
  
  "The paranoiac imbecile," the Master of the Underworld hissed. "What is in his head? Why would I order something so blatant and so stupid?"
  
  There were moments where as much as quipping something, it was best to stay silent.
  
  The flow of ichor was now a mere trickle, and after four or five seconds, it was even less than that.
  
  Hades broke the last chain tying his second arm, and immediately cauterised the wound his daughter had used in her attempt to drain his power.
  
  Perseus noted that unlike what had happened before, an ugly dark scar remained on his pale and muscled forearm where the Master Bolt had hurt him.
  
  "Not really pretty isn't it?" the question was obviously rhetorical, and he didn't answer as the leg chains broke one by one. "It has been a long time since anyone wounded me that badly. Fortunately the ritual was supposed to last seven days and seven nights where claiming my ichor was concerned, thus the portion of power lost remains insignificant for a God of my power. Now-"
  
  Perseus wondered why Hades had stopped talking and turned his head...right in time to see Luke Castellan evade the lid of the sarcophagus thrown in his direction.
  
  Bianca di Angelo emerged from the Orichalcum Sarcophagus the second after, and to say she was happy to see them would have been the greatest lie of the year.
  
  "Heroes..." the musical voice was filled with hatred. "Why do they always ruin everything?"
  
  They were all facing the Lightning Thief.
  
  She was naked and weaponless, watching them from her position on the edge of the sarcophagus' top.
  
  Luke didn't give the signal to attack. He wasn't sure if anyone would have obeyed it anyway.
  
  The black eyes of the daughter of Hades seemed to stare them into submission, promising only death if they attacked.
  
  There was a small cloud of darkness which fell from nowhere, and in a second, the Demigoddess was covered in a sort of light armour plus other black clothes which wouldn't have been out of fashion for a Huntress of Artemis...provided they love the black theme.
  
  "Better," Hades said in a satisfied tone. "We are not going to behave like we're in Aphrodite temple. You are too young to share the exhibitionist tendencies of the Goddess of Love."
  
  "Of course you would worry about that," the dark-haired teenager who had stolen the Master Bolt scoffed.
  
  "I worry about a lot of things," the Master of the Underworld told her politely.
  
  "Just not those who are important to your children," the Demigoddess muttered before barking a word of command. The Minotaur, who had until now been guarding the Master Bolt, saw his hands close on nothing. In the blink of an eye, it reappeared before the Lightning Thief's who seized it with a dark smile. "It's always easier to give your children water from the Lethe than rising against the God who regularly kills your lovers."
  
  "I have not forgiven Zeus for the death of Maria."
  
  "Then do something!" And for the first time, the rage truly seemed personal for the Lightning Thief. "We were sent to the Lotus Casino when the Great Prophecy was uttered. More than fifty years have passed, and what did you do to punish the Master of Olympus? Nothing! Why should Zeus care about your forgiveness when they are absolutely no drawbacks to be on the receiving end of your wrath? Cursing the Oracle? It must have been a good joke for him! Prophecies are Apollo's domain, and even if they weren't, the Lord of Olympus would respect them as much as he abides by the oaths he swears on the Styx!"
  
  "You are right."
  
  "Yes, you...what?"
  
  "You are right," Hades answered slowly. "I should have found a way to punish my arrogant brother long before you were released from the Lotus Casino. The deaths of some of his children before their time, in hindsight, have utterly failed in their goals. He simply doesn't care about enough to stop siring them, no matter how tragic the demises of their predecessors."
  
  The God of Hell advanced, and with each step, he grew taller and more terrifying.
  
  Luke shivered at the sight of the five metres-tall giant, now covered in dark armour and drawing an enormous sword of Stygian Iron.
  
  "Now please drop this Master Bolt and abandon this folly. I am ready to forgive you, but the longer you continue opposing me, the harsher your final punishment will be."
  
  "You speak as if you are able to beat me easily. I won against you once."
  
  "By underhanded tricks and a remarkable sneak attack," her father agreed. "You will learn that unlike Zeus, I learn from my mistakes."
  
  "That's what we are about to-"
  
  The thin Demigoddess had not the time to finish her sentence...or even to throw a lightning bolt in defence of herself.
  
  One second was all it took for the God to throw her like a broken doll in the air.
  
  Most of it went far too quickly for mortal eyes like all the members of the Suicide Squad.
  
  But there was one thing evident. Bianca di Angelo, a Demigoddess who had bathed in the Styx, was armed with the Master Bolt of Zeus, and had an enormous talent in sorcery and plenty of other fields.
  
  She had not a tiny chance in Hell to beat Hades in a fair fight.
  
  The 'battle' was completely one-sided. It was extremely violent.
  
  Bianca di Angelo was thrown to the four corners of the Tartarus Temple, utterly dominated, and unable to do anything but assist in her total defeat.
  
  And it ended in the Demigoddess crashing down not far from the sarcophagus, the Master Bolt too far to help, and her skin visibly steaming as the Styx Curse had nearly faltered in front of the deadly assault.
  
  The large sword of Stygian Iron was soon pointed at her throat.
  
  Luke thought she whispered a few words under her breath, but if someone other than Hades heard them...
  
  "I...tried to usurp your divinity."
  
  "So you did. And I have found the perfect punishment. I forgive you and your brother."
  
  The Italian-named girl seemed extremely surprised. No, maybe 'surprised' was too weak a word.
  
  "No...no! No!"
  
  "As much as I want to praise your clemency, Lord Hades," Jackson intervened with his damned smirk. "I think a few of your siblings and fellow Gods are going to argue for far less forgiving fates when they are aware of what happened here. Not to mention the traitor in the Council who-"
  
  The Rich One cast his sword against a pillar and swore something extremely insulting in Greek.
  
  The explosion was phenomenal and several pillars broke. The Tartarus Temple, probably not the most resistant structure in the Underworld or outside of it, began to show signs of imminent collapse.
  
  All of this was immaterial as a Goddess in armour was revealed now that she had removed her helmet...the Helm of Darkness, likely stolen during the imprisonment of his owner.
  
  "Good evening, Hera."
  
  The Goddess, Ethan thought at first, did not look like Hera at all.
  
  She was clad in armour of bronze and gold, and she had armed herself with a spear. Her looks were of an incredible youth. She was blonde-haired and beautiful. If Hades had not called her by her name, the son of Nemesis would have thought it was Athena dressed like one of the ancient hoplites, though the large traditional shield was missing.
  
  But when you watched her face, you realised it couldn't be the Goddess of Wisdom, Strategy, and Architecture.
  
  There was a sort of madness burning in the blue eyes, and it didn't diminish as the Helm of Darkness fell apart in a cascade of black sand.
  
  "You are ready to destroy your original symbol of power just to stop me?" the wife of the Master of Olympus asked coldly.
  
  "Please," Hades scoffed loudly, "do you really think it was the original work of the Cyclopes? This helmet was destroyed long ago in the war against the Giants. I fabricated multiple copies which have surpassed the first Helm...as you are going to verify by yourself."
  
  A new 'Helm of Darkness' materialised before the God of the Underworld, and a second later the brother of the Olympians' terrifying aura turned into...something else.
  
  Sheer terror overwhelmed his senses. It was more and more difficult to breathe. Ethan saw monstrous shadows leap and dance at the edge of his vision. By the vengeance of his mother, what was that power?
  
  The effect decreased after a few seconds. Jake Mason tried to use his strength of donkey to stand again, but his legs were convulsing, and he wasn't the only one to have collapsed and suffering from the Helm...no, from Hades' power.
  
  "I can't allow you to return to Olympus and warn my husband."
  
  The worst part in this sentence was how...emotionlessly Hera said it.
  
  "I am afraid you don't have the choice, sister." The eldest male deity of their generation replied. "You don't exactly have an Orichalcum cage to imprison me again, and trying a ritual of the same level would require you to wait until the Winter Solstice...and my brothers aren't going to let you wait for that long before asking difficult questions you won't be able to explain. And at the risk of sounding a bit arrogant...you are strong Hera, but you do not have the strength to fight me in a duel."
  
  The Master Bolt flew in Hera's hands the next second.
  
  "I disagree." The Goddess who didn't look at all like the living grace of happy marriage snarled, a dangerous golden aura beginning to increase around her body.
  
  "You want to challenge me with a symbol of power attuned to my daughter's sorcery?" Hades seemed amused. "So be it. Demigods, brace yourselves. My sister and I need to have a little conversation about her treasonous motivations."
  
  Ethan felt like something horribly slimy was swallowing him, and the vision of the Tartarus Temple faded away.
  
  But not before he saw the God and the Goddess charge each other.
  
  It might be his imagination, but the son of Nemesis thought the clash of their weapons shattered reality itself.
  
  1 June 2006, Hades Fortress, the Underworld
  
  The moment he saw the red and the black colours, Perseus knew Hades had sent them back to his throne room.
  
  It was a judicious choice on the part of the Master of the Underworld. The ex-Tyrant had never seen two Olympian-level deities unleash everything they had against each other, but he had a feeling it was the sort of things best watched from thousands of kilometres away.
  
  Gods revealing their divine form to mortals was enough to incinerate you, what would an all-out fight do their mortal bodies? The answer, in all likelihood was nothing good.
  
  "Well," the son of Poseidon chuckled, "we are all alive and we were successful. Mission accomplished, Suicide Squad."
  
  "Mission accomplished?" Zoë Nightshade exploded, which was anything but a surprise. "We were supposed to take back the Master Bolt!"
  
  "Ah, yes, that Master Bolt," Perseus played with the Trident in his right hand. "If you desire so much taking it back, who am I to stop you? Just to warn you, I don't think Hera is a mood to return it to Olympus...not without incinerating all the witnesses first."
  
  "That sounds like my aunt." And all the eyes of the Suicide Squad and the Demigods present turned towards the thrones...and one was evidently occupied.
  
  The Goddess Persephone had changed a lot since their last encounter. Now she wore a royal black robe decorated with golden skulls, and her hair and her eyes were piercing black. A sceptre decorated with many skulls was used as symbol of her powers, and she definitely looked the part of the Queen of Hell.
  
  "I was not expecting for so many of you to return alive...along with guests."
  
  This was the moment most of the Suicide Squad looked behind them...directly at the two children of Hades. Bianca di Angelo had woken up her brother, and was trying to push him in direction of the doors.
  
  Persephone made a move of her hand. The hell-themed gates were slammed shut in this kind of sound which always preceded a good tragedy or an important monologue.
  
  "Lady Persephone, I don't understand-"
  
  "She intends to kill us right here, right now, Annabeth," Perseus explained while rolling her eyes. Seriously for a child of Wisdom, the progeny of Athena often missed the obvious. "Hades promised us an amnesty. His wife didn't swear any binding oath."
  
  "Indeed," the daughter of Demeter and Zeus gave them an expression of pure loathing. "Did you really think you were going to leave so easily after ransacking our realm, spawn of the Earthshaker? Did you think I was going to leave you alive after imprisoning me, bastards?"
  
  "Well to be honest...yes." He answered as honestly as he was capable.
  
  "Then you are far stupider than you look." The Goddess of Spring insulted him.
  
  "I am hurt," the former Tyrant gasped theatrically. "In fact, I am utterly devastated!"
  
  Persephone didn't bother leaving her throne while she conjured an orb of cursed fire in her hand.
  
  The instant after, she received a wave of water in her face, extinguishing the flames and giving her the appearance of a drenched hag.
  
  "In case you forgot, oh Goddess, I have the Trident of my father, and I can wield it against you. I would advise to-"
  
  Persephone snarled and tried to throw something very close to hellfire at the illegitimate children of her husband. That answered the question of who she hated the most.
  
  It didn't work.
  
  Bianca di Angelo shouted a spell incantation, and the flames stopped in mid-air before being thrown back in her direction. Persephone was a second away from being roasted by her own spell when she managed to cancel the attack.
  
  "What I have done to be surrounded by buffoons and incompetent stepmothers?" The Lightning Thief grumbled as she advanced once again towards the thrones.
  
  "I don't know who you're speaking about...unless you're insulting my donkey lieutenant?"
  
  "Are you sure you weren't a Bard in a previous life?" the olive-skinned daughter of Hades hissed. "I hate Bards. I crucified a lot of them long ago."
  
  "Now that's just rude," Perseus grinned. "I was a Tyrant. Tyrant of Helike, your Most Dreadful Majesty."
  
  This caught the dark-clothed Demigoddess completely off-guard.
  
  "What? You...you are an old soul, just like me!"
  
  "I am guilty of that, yes. Your reigning name before we challenge a Goddess?"
  
  The hands of Bianca di Angelo began to burn in black flames and all the members of the Suicide Squad were in defensive stances, ready to evade whatever Persephone would send their way.
  
  "A lifetime ago, I ruled and I was Triumphant."
  
  Author's note: The title of the next chapter will be Triumphant, obviously.
  
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  Triumphant
  Chapter 9
  
  Triumphant
  
  "Dread Empress Triumphant - may she never return - was widely held as the greatest diabolist to ever live, above even the Dead King. She'd summoned and bound entire legions of devils, put demons at their head and her bindings had been so well-crafted they had held for centuries after her demise." Akua Sahelian the Diabolist, on Dread Empress Triumphant.
  
  "In glorious old days, there was once a woman who broke in Evil as one would break in a stallion. From triumph to triumph did she march, west and ever pursuing, until by the shores of a great lake she met in strife a hundred priests-elect of the Hallowed. And these holy souls did scour themselves to bring forth the great spirit they worshipped, one that cast judgement upon all it beheld, and behold her it did. For that presumption she slew it, bearing tall banner, and wrote her rage in blood across a hundred trembling tribes." Kairos Theodosian, Tyrant of Helike, on Dread Empress Triumphant, First and Only of the Name.
  
  1 June 2006, Hades Fortress, the Underworld
  
  In hindsight, Bianca admitted it had not been an intelligent idea to carve the Tower's stanzas on her father's throne.
  
  But how could she have guessed there would be someone else able to discover the true meaning of the Miezan words?
  
  There had been no one in the Lotus Casino who knew about a continent named Calernia, of the importance of Named, of diabolism and sorcery as she practised it a lifetime ago. And the Lotus Casino was certainly a beautiful prison, but in all the years she had spent here, the former Dread Empress had learned it was one particularly important information-gathering node, much like several cities lived for trade.
  
  No one on Olympus or in the Underworld had a clue about who she was in a previous life.
  
  Hells, until today there hadn't been a single clue someone had ever come from Calernia or another continent of Creation.
  
  Of course, her assumptions had to be proven wrong the day she began a ritual of godly ascension.
  
  "A lifetime ago, I ruled and I was Triumphant." The Demigoddess reluctantly admitted, taking a gamble. The son of Poseidon was evidently no conventional 'hero' from what she'd seen, and judging by his recent actions, he was unlike to scream and run away...well, maybe not very far, since this useless courtesan Goddess had closed the gates of the throne room.
  
  "In this case, I have to say...you are very disappointing."
  
  Bianca di Angelo, former Dread Empress, former Diabolist, gaped.
  
  "Excuse me? I was about to become a Goddess when you intervened and ruined my ritual!"
  
  "Yes, and?" the audacity of this black-haired Demigod left her speechless. "With the time you spent in the Lotus Casino and around one year of preparation, this plan is barely enough to reach the lowest threshold any aspirant world conqueror takes for granted."
  
  The green-eyed boy stamped his foot against the red carpet, and the ground trembled slightly.
  
  "Where are the flying fortresses darkening the skies? Where are the Legions of Terror sacking and looting hundreds of cities? Where are the demons you were so famous for?"
  
  This Named knew a lot about her, and if there had been even the shadow of a doubt he was bluffing when he opened he cursed mouth, there was none at all left now. He had been born in a Calernian nation too, and likely long after her death, otherwise she would recognise his irritant grin. That much wasn't in question.
  
  "Do you have any idea how much it cost to raise a single flying fortress when the sorcery educational system is so ridiculously limited in this world?"
  
  "Eh!"
  
  She ignored the blonde witch's sound of protest. The daughter of Hecate may be stronger than the average mage, but even she was decades away from being able to be considered a half-passable warlock.
  
  "And since my dear father prevented me from using his funds as long as he was the ruling God of the Underworld, it was either building the sarcophagus for my ascension, or spend a lot of enchanted metal I wasn't going to see back on some experiments I was far from sure they would crowned with success eventually. You might have noticed, but there's no demon in the Underworld."
  
  "That," the infuriating spawn of Poseidon smirked, "looks very much like an excuse."
  
  The expression of the once-Named boy returned to something approaching seriousness after a few seconds.
  
  "Still, the absence of demons as we know it is a valid point and-"
  
  "You will finish this conversation once you are in the Fields of Punishment!"
  
  The Goddess of Spring - which doubled as the Queen of Hell, of course - flared up dramatically and Bianca cursed loudly. Seriously? She was going to incinerate them by revealing her divine form and then massacring whoever survived the first seconds of that?
  
  The ex-Diabolist had her doubts about how seriously the so-called 'Ancient Laws' were enforced, and today was going to answer her question in a very-
  
  "There will be none of that."
  
  The Trident's power washed over the entire throne room - it wasn't an imaginative turn of sentence, they were really all washed up by a great wave of water, though it somehow only washed them, they weren't projected everywhere by the impact.
  
  The spells she was preparing were extinguished.
  
  But the effect on the Goddess she had only called 'step-mother' when she wanted to taunt her was far more dramatic.
  
  Every warning sign her divine form was about to come out was gone.
  
  "What...what have you done, Demigod?"
  
  Bianca honestly chuckled as she saw the sheer hatred her father's wife looked at Perseus Jackson. And in the blink of an eye, there also was a tiny moment of uncertainty.
  
  Ah, the arrogant bitch of Spring had really thought this would be like clicking her fingers and exterminating the insects in front of her without an effort.
  
  And now it was no longer the case.
  
  "I have forbidden you to use your divine form," the black-haired boy who had ruined her plans - and now was in the process of destroying Persephone's too - courteously explained. "The moment I recovered the Trident, I tried to guess which sort of power my father had imbued in it. I mean, creating earthquakes, bolstering his macro-hydrokinesis and everything like that are certainly useful stuff, but I wondered if there was other functions like Zeus' Master Bolt is supposed to have. Well, I was right. As long as this function is activated, I can stop you from unleashing your divine form."
  
  "Wait a minute..." Bianca was beginning to be really, really angry. "The Master Bolt is capable of that too?"
  
  "Of course! Didn't Hera inform you of this power before she let you use it in your ascension ritual?"
  
  No. No, she hadn't.
  
  And now she wondered how 'easy' it had been to manipulate the Goddess of Marriage into accomplishing her objectives. Not to mention how quickly the wife of Zeus had arrived despite the little problem neither her little brother nor Bianca had summoned her!
  
  There was however one important question to be asked.
  
  "If the Trident has indeed such a power, why didn't you use it on Hera a few minutes ago?
  
  "It only works on lesser Gods and Goddesses clearly," the son of Poseidon shrugged. "Hades and Hera are far too powerful to be affected by the power of the Trident. And while it's only a guess, I'm ready to bet the other symbols of powers of the Olympians have the power to counteract this very useful ability. The Elder Cyclopes built the Master Bolt, the Trident, and the Helm of Darkness to be equal instruments of war; it would be surprising if they hadn't added powers like that just in case one was stolen."
  
  "I see," another blonde boy cleared his throat as Persephone threw a sort of nasty black-coloured spell at Jackson, who negated it without effort. "And does it have other powers which are really useful against a Goddess wanting you dead?"
  
  "As it happens..." the grin was back, and Bianca felt her anger rise up once more, "it creates a direct link between my current location and my father's private rum cellar."
  
  It wasn't anger anymore. It was just...an urge to strangle this damned 'hero'. Especially as the Minotaur took a crystal glass from somewhere and one second later, one of the Trident's three prongs was filling up the glass with an amber-colour liquid.
  
  "Four hundred years of age," the monster rumbled after emptying the crystalline container in less time than it took to say it. "There aren't making rum like that anymore...makes me remember the times I was hunting sons of Zeus in the Sea of-"
  
  "I don't like your mockeries, heroes."
  
  "Bah, all will be forgiven when we swear each other eternal friendship," Perseus Jackson replied, visibly unconcerned by the furious expression of Persephone. And a second crystal glass appeared from...somewhere. A second later, it was in the process of being filled. "Are you perchance interested in a glass of rum?"
  
  "ALECTO! MEGAERA! TISIPHONE! KILL THIS DEMIGOD...SLOWLY!"
  
  Bianca turned her head, and sure enough, the petrifying spell she had used to neutralise the Erinyes had just ended...
  
  A Goddess wanted to kill them, and Jackson and the Minotaur were busy drinking rum.
  
  Ethan wanted to say it was his mother's curse striking, but he was realistic; more likely, it was the fault of the son of Poseidon from beginning to the end.
  
  "Jackson!" He barked. "If you don't stop drinking and help us fight the Furies, I am going to stab you with a poisoned dagger!"
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, you aren't required to fight those BDSM ladies...hey, be careful!" the red-clothed Fury had tried to strike the crystal glass in his hand with her nine-tailed whip. Somehow, the son of the Earthshaker had managed to evade.
  
  "You won't have rum where you are going," the scantily-clothed servant of Hades bared her teeth, and as she smiled, her visage and her body transformed. Wings grew on her back, red-covered boots became monstrous talons. "I am Alecto, and I am going to enjoy breaking you once you will be in the torture pens of the Fields."
  
  Her irisless dark red eyes fell upon the daughter of Hades.
  
  "Especially you, usurper. You repeated countless times what humiliations you were going to inflict upon us when you became the Underworld Mistress. But you have failed. And now you are going to pay the price."
  
  "Since I am the reason she failed," Perseus didn't miss this opportunity to intervene and spread chaos, "shouldn't we be considered best friends? I mean, I did your job while you were very charming statues and-"
  
  "You," the blue-clothed Erinye hissed, "SHUT UP!"
  
  "Murderer," the third 'sister' mumbled. "Murder, murderer, murderess, murder."
  
  "Come on, I have not killed that many people recently..." the son of Poseidon complained.
  
  "There were those mortals in Caligula's Circus Maximus," Jake Mason helpfully brayed.
  
  "Do the skeletons before Hades' fortress count?" Miranda asked while inspecting her nails.
  
  "We boiled a few billion shades in the Asphodel Sea," Lou Ellen Blackstone mentioned while yawning.
  
  "You're all terrible subordinates!" the mad Demigod proclaimed while feigning to have his heart mortally injured. "Since you are so critical of my efforts, I have decided none of you ingrates will fight these nice old ladies!"
  
  "MURDER?" Ouch, apparently the green-clad Erinye appreciated...err...moderately...been called 'old'.
  
  "And how do you intent to fight us, son of Poseidon?" the white-haired Fury stretched, making sure to expose most of her body since her blue BDSM attire wasn't up to the job of hiding it. Ethan winced, because it was evident this one was nothing but muscles and lethality in one infernal shell. No wonder the three were Hades' top enforcers. "We were mistresses of martial arts while your great-great-great-grandparents were yet to be born. We slaughtered armies before the first European conquistador arrived to the American shores. You intend to fight us with the Trident? We have seen it into action hundreds of times. We have analysed its weaknesses. And I seriously doubt you are able to master its considerable powers in a few minutes..."
  
  "You are right, my dear Megaera, I have not." Perseus breathed out, and presented a tormented look. "May the Gods forgive me for what I am about to do, for it is their role and I have no morals. Dakota, open your mouth."
  
  "Eh?" the son of Bacchus was caught by surprise like Ethan. "Why...NO!"
  
  "I'm sorry, but desperate circumstances will only be solved by desperate measures."
  
  And the Minotaur began to pour the barrel of Eleutherian wine into Dakota's mouth.
  
  "That's your strategy?" Alecto the Fury snorted. "Forcing a human to drink wine? Yes, how dreadful. I am absolutely terrified. Megaera, you owe me a favour. I'm using it. I want first blood."
  
  "Fine...do it quickly...it stopped being funny long ago."
  
  The red-clad Fury lunged, and the Minotaur plunged to avoid the barbed whip.
  
  Ethan shouted something, all the while drawing his sword and avoiding being skewered by another whip and-
  
  The action mostly stopped as Alecto had stopped her attack.
  
  The arrogance of the bloodthirsty Fury had vanished, and it wasn't hard to discover why: Dakota had seized her whip bare-handed, and for all her strength, the enforcer of Hades' will wasn't able to force him to release her weapon.
  
  "How? You are not a son of the weakest Olympian, you are-"
  
  A fist hit her right just below her breasts and put an end to this questioning.
  
  The Fury was thrown in the air like she had been struck by the fist of an angry God.
  
  Alecto slammed into the throne's room gates, and made a significant dent into them, though they didn't collapse. Somehow, the red-clad Erinye - and several parts of her attire fell due to the shock - managed to land on her feet, despite the numerous bleeding cuts she was showing.
  
  "You are not going to get away with-"
  
  Dakota was already on the move, and the son of Nemesis feared the worst. The Circus Maximus' rampage had not been that long ago to forget-
  
  Ethan was honest enough to acknowledge true despair as the son of Bacchus grabbed Megaera...and then went on to languorously kiss her.
  
  Yes, he was kissing her. Megaera. A Fury. A 'Kindly One', one of the chief enforcers of Hades' realm. Sure, he had done it with women summoned by Caligula, but...this was one the three Furies.
  
  And...
  
  The kiss was long and deep. And the Fury, after looking like she was going to kill him with her eyes alone, returned the kiss.
  
  "Sanity is dead," Ethan commented and began to wonder how many barrels of Lethe water it was going to take for him to forget this 'Great Quest'.
  
  "REMOVE YOUR UGLY PAWS FROM MY SISTER!" Alecto shouted.
  
  "MURDERER! MURDER! MURDERER! MURDER!" Tisiphone shouted.
  
  Dakota, who had been so far concerned about putting his tongue into the Fury's mouth, abandoned his conquest, kissed her hand, and then tore his new armour and the T-shirt under it.
  
  Oh...by all the Hells...
  
  "You want to stop me?" for the first time, Ethan noticed how many common points the Roman Demigod had with his father the Director of New Byzantium. His face...there was just madness awaiting them. Please, please, please Gods! Please, let there be another exit...
  
  "Definitely," Alecto's monstrous face replied.
  
  "Murder!" Tisiphone shouted.
  
  "Sisters, it isn't-"
  
  "COWABUNGA IT IS!"
  
  Drew was already giggling as Dakota kissed and forced a Fury to submit with an exchange of tongues.
  
  "COWABUNGA IT IS!"
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite began to laugh hysterically as the Roman charged Alecto and Tisiphone wearing absolutely nothing above the belt.
  
  For anyone sane, this would be a death sentence.
  
  But Dakota McDonald wasn't sane anymore, courtesy of having drunk so much Eleutherian wine that it was certainly a capital offense on Olympus.
  
  The whips of the two Erinyes missed, and-
  
  "Ouch, that got to hurt," Luke winced.
  
  "Isn't it illegal to do that?"
  
  "All's fair in love and war," Drew giggled, before grimacing as...oh, no.
  
  "Look elsewhere, Nico," the Lightning Thief ordered. "You're too young to watch this kind of fight."
  
  "But sister...why is this Demigod spanking Alecto?"
  
  "Look elsewhere, I said!" the daughter of Hades commanded with a voice of steel. "You're too young to understand."
  
  "The censorship is soon going to classify this adventure as a porn movie," Jake commented sadly. "Jackson, where did you find a camera?"
  
  "Hmm? Oh, I just wanted a souvenir of our adventures, and there were so interesting techno-magic devices in the Circus Maximus..."
  
  "You want blackmail, you mean," Drew took two step forwards and grabbed the camera. "Let the professionals do this, son of Poseidon. You need to show all reactions to this formidable...sexual assault...I mean sexual fight."
  
  Including the one of Persephone, who, on her throne, was in a state of shock. And...was the daughter of Demeter blushing?
  
  Anyway it was evident that for all their 'experience' against Demigods, the Furies were not used to fight a Demigod doped on Eleutherian wine.
  
  As it wasn't a handicap enough, Megaera wasn't really fighting; oh sure once or twice the white-haired 'Kindly One' was using her whip - the blue dominatrix clothes to distinguish her were no longer on her, that was all she was going to say - but if she was scratching Dakota's skin with her claws, it wasn't because she wanted to injure him severely.
  
  "Murderer! Murderer!" The rage of the green-clad Tisiphone was volcanic...and didn't end up doing anything, as the member of the Suicide Squad put her asleep in a sort of martial move...err...it had to be illegal to do that in a lot of US states...as far as Drew was aware.
  
  "Tisiphone!" Alecto reacted even more violently. "Criminal! I condemn you to a million years of torments and-"
  
  Once again, her whip was stopped by her enemy's grabbing it with his bare hands, and then forcing her to come closer to him as Dakota pulled and pulled until even an Erinye's strength failed.
  
  And when Alecto was finally at sword's range...Dakota used his head as a hammer and the belly of Alecto as the anvil.
  
  Fuelled by the madness of a drunk Demigod, the 'projectile' was irresistible, and soon the red-clad Fury was unconscious on the very damaged carpet of Hades. If they hadn't already caused billions of damage and been granted an amnesty, the daughter of Aphrodite would likely be a bit worried.
  
  As it was, Drew was too busy giggling.
  
  Dakota embraced Megaera, and whispered a few words in her ear before once again kissing her deeply.
  
  The Fury unfurled her wings, blue smoke coalesced around them...and one instant later, the two were gone.
  
  "Err...Jackson?"
  
  "Yes, my treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "What...what do you think will happen once the Eleutherian wine's madness effect will disappear?"
  
  "First, it's not a madness effect," the son of Poseidon had grabbed a notebook from somewhere and now was writing frenetically a lot of things on it. "The Eleutherian wine doesn't turn you mad; it just suppressed the chains of inhibition that civilisation and all these pesky cultural imperatives are desperately trying to enforce upon us. And second...to be honest, I think the Eleutherian wine's effect is cumulative."
  
  "You knew this, and you forced him to drink that?" Jason brayed.
  
  "Released from the foolish idiocies society is trying to impose upon him, Dakota is a far more interesting heroic figure than when he isn't drunk."
  
  "I don't think we can call what he did heroic, Jackson," Luke intervened.
  
  "Well, by the standards of the Trojan War, it was heroic," the son of Poseidon insisted.
  
  "Your standards are completely-"
  
  "Perseus Jackson..." the furious voice of Persephone was back. Ah damn. They still had a Goddess to fight, right? "I'm beginning to see why my father hates you."
  
  "Let me reassure you, oh Lady Persephone," the Demigod replied while playing with his Trident and activating something which once again conjured a shower-sized jet which struck the Queen of Hell right in the face. "The feeling is perfectly reciprocal."
  
  "I am going to take great pleasure watching you die! Winds of the Mortis plains, hear my command! Earth of the dark devastation, listen to my anger! Transport to this very palace the being whose hatred of Perseus Jackson surpasses all other mortal and immortal souls!"
  
  "Winds of the Mortis plains, hear my command! Earth of the dark devastation, listen to my anger! Transport to this very palace the being whose hatred of Perseus Jackson surpasses all other mortal and immortal souls!"
  
  Zoë Nightshade, senior lieutenant of Artemis, felt for the first time of the fight hope.
  
  At last, Persephone had done the intelligent thing and summoned Zeus.
  
  Perseus would be severely punished - hopefully with something that was going to ensure a painful demise - and Artemis would be able to intervene and remove this ridiculous silver armour.
  
  Dark smoke billowed and darkened half of the hall.
  
  And when it cleared, it revealed-
  
  "What?"
  
  "Oh, no..." she murmured. "It has to be a nightmare..."
  
  "Dear Persephone," because of course Perseus Jackson was the first to react in a coherent manner. "I thank you very much for bringing back the missing member of the Suicide Squad."
  
  The millennia-old Huntress closed her eyes for a second, before reopening them, hoping it had been a hallucination.
  
  But no, there still was a large, pink crocodile between them and the thrones of the Underworld.
  
  "So it is the being in this world whose hatred for me know no bounds," the son of Poseidon chuckled, "hello, Scipio, I was wondering where you had fled to. Met plenty of saurian friends lately?"
  
  "This..." the Lightning Thief said in a tone which was drowning in incredulity, not that Zoë was blaming her, "this crocodile is a member of your group."
  
  "Former member," the madman leading the 'Suicide Squad' corrected. "I had to punish him for his pathetic assassination attempt. I'm sure you understand; this company has standards. I tolerate one or two murders per adventure if it's truly necessary, but I don't like the people who swear to be the daggers of Thunderous Big Head."
  
  "You dare disrespecting the Master of Olympus?"
  
  "I dare disrespecting a lot of people," Perseus answered calmly. The Huntress had to admit that this was nothing but the truth. "Scipio, if you attack, I promise you a fate worse than the one which transformed you into a crocodile..."
  
  Obviously, the Demigod transformed into a pink reptile didn't listen to the warning, and lunged forwards with a speed normal crocodiles were unable to sustain for long.
  
  As fast as 'Scipio' was, Jackson was faster, and the Trident of Poseidon hit the snout violently before the crocodile's jaws could close on Jackson's limbs.
  
  There was a shockwave and for several seconds, water clouded the fighting scene.
  
  When they were able to watch again, Zoë gasped.
  
  Scipio Varus was still a pink crocodile. That much had not changed.
  
  What had...there was no good way to say it...the changed son of Janus was trapped into a block of ice.
  
  "The powers of the Trident are very impressive," the Earthshaker's son commented like he was doing this every morning. "I'm really going to have to ask my father if I can borrow it a few months the time to solve a few mysteries of this world..."
  
  Zoë Nightshade shivered. Perseus Jackson unleashed with the Trident of Poseidon. This poor innocent world wouldn't survive a month.
  
  "Now I'm thinking to transport our dear Scipio somewhere snowy near Siberia. That way, once scientists discover him, we will have a lot of fun reading the newspapers' articles and-"
  
  "You will do nothing of the sort!" Persephone snarled. A monstrous telekinetic attack blasted away the iceberg cube like it was a toy until it struck the hall's doors. Fortunately...or unfortunately, everyone had managed to evade in time.
  
  Everyone excepted the two unconscious Furies. Alecto and Tisiphone were unconscious, and couldn't run away. When the ice cube finally stopped, there was nothing but monster's dust left of them.
  
  Jackson, in the mean time, had conjured a wave and an ice surfboard to taunt further the angry Goddess.
  
  "The final boss is authorised to enter the arena."
  
  "Your screaming skull will ornate a pike above this fortress' entrance," Persephone promised while standing from her throne.
  
  This time the divine daughter of Demeter truly conjured godly armour the very colour of the night to protect herself. It managed to be elegant and cruel, with plenty of dark spikes and skulls used for the decoration.
  
  Her blonde hair disappeared under a helmet representing a screaming Banshee, and an aura of despair and darkness engulfed the throne hall.
  
  "At last you have recognised what every apprentice-Tyrant learns on the first steps of his or her journey. If you have to really kill someone, do it yourself."
  
  "You will not laugh when you will share Sisyphus' eternal torment."
  
  "A pity," Perseus Jackson continued, "you haven't learned the second lesson. Don't give time to a sorceress, because they will use the opportunity to prepare a powerful spell against you."
  
  And the daughter of Hecate summoned her black flames once more.
  
  Clarisse struck the moment Lou Ellen's hammered Persephone with her fancy hell-flames.
  
  She immediately regretted it.
  
  The armour was a bit damaged, yes, but it just meant Carnifex was unable to pierce the Goddess' skin.
  
  "Did you really think this pathetic attack was enough to hurt a God? Let me show you how it's done!"
  
  The enemy punched her. Hard.
  
  Clarisse saw the blow coming, but as the black-armoured harpy seized her arm impossibly fast, she was unable to throw herself to the ground.
  
  There was a monumental CLANG!
  
  And then she was flying...until a large mattress-soft water wave stopped her from receiving the crocodile treatment.
  
  "Jackson, your spear isn't able to hurt Gods!"
  
  "Your protests have been duly noted, and I will send them to your father as soon as possible!" Perseus replied hastily while dodging many arrows of darkness sent by the angry Goddess.
  
  "DIE!"
  
  This time, the attack was like a million plants corrupted by hell were thrown at the same place to form something...very dangerous.
  
  It didn't work.
  
  When the water washed the darkness away, the Lightning Thief, Lou Ellen, and Perseus were still standing. In the daughter of Hecate's case, her armour was completely ruined, as were the clothes underneath her.
  
  "One more traitor which bathed in the Styx?" Persephone's eyes burned in black fire, and it wasn't her imagination describing things which weren't there.
  
  "What can I say, your step-daughter has some powerful subordinates which aren't taking 'no' for an answer..."
  
  "SHE IS NOT MY STEP-DAUGHTER!"
  
  "DO YOU THINK I CONSIDERED YOU MY MOM FOR A SECOND, TOOTHLESS CRONE?
  
  Clarisse watched in amazement as once again Jackson found himself somewhere few people wanted to be: on one side, he had the Lightning Thief, on the other side, a Goddess who wanted all of them dead.
  
  "If my husband had listened to my advice, you two would have been killed before you celebrated your first birthday!"
  
  "And if you had listened to my advice, you would have not begun this fight." Jackson pointed the Trident like one pointed a portable weapon of mass destruction at the enemy...which it certainly was, admittedly. "Seriously, do you think Lord Hades is going to be very happy how this little disagreement damaged his throne room?"
  
  "He will forgive me," the Goddess affirmed as she tried to skewer Jackson and her husband's daughter. The rest of the Suicide Squad, in the mean time, made a tactical retreat towards the ice cube and the blocked exit. It was just to avoid being caught in the magical collateral damage, she swore it on her father's spear...
  
  "Ah, but he forgave Miss di Angelo too!"
  
  Sometimes...okay, most of the time, Perseus Jackson really sounded like he had a death wish.
  
  "He did," the Lightning Thief struck the Goddess with a sort of red aura, and for the first time, there was a minuscule wound where Persephone's armour had failed. "I wonder if he would the same if you are killed?"
  
  "I would prefer if you didn't," the green-eyed boy smirked just before conjuring another big wave which nearly drowned the blonde Goddess. "One of my best plans to make sure Zeus doesn't see the end of this century is to unite Hades and my father into a big anti-Olympus coalition. Killing the Master of Underworld's wife would certainly considerably delay if not outright ruin my schemes."
  
  "I won't let you trigger another war against my father!"
  
  "At the risk of enouncing some monumental truths...killing me while I'm sworn to return the Trident to Atlantis, would be akin to declaring war to Poseidon," Perseus joyously declared before striking Persephone in the head. The head of the Goddess was pretty much undamaged. The helmet protecting said head was however going to need a lot of repairs before it played this role again. "And may I suggest you be careful when your husband's opinion is involved? After all, the Goddess of Marriage's throne is soon going to be vacant."
  
  "I don't know what you're implying, but he is my husband!" Persephone snarled as unlike Clarisse herself, Bianca di Angelo danced around her attacks effortlessly.
  
  "I'm implying that it is going to be divorce season on the new Olympian TV Show once our revelations are made public. I foresee a few difficulties in the royal couple of the great mountain, if you know what I mean. Are you sure you want to add your union on the list of those in need for some old-fashioned lawyer's guidance?"
  
  "Forget the Fields of Punishment!" The Goddess erupted in hatred. "I will torture you myself, and then your shrieking soul will be sent to the Pits of Tartarus!"
  
  Before the madness of this 'Great Quest', Lou Ellen had thought that she was definitely among the three most powerful practitioners of New Byzantium.
  
  Now the teenage daughter of Hecate was rather certain she wasn't. Or if she was, it was at because she was ranked third. The first two seats were not available.
  
  Perseus Jackson may swear he wasn't a sorcerer or someone who practised magic, but the way he conjured waves, ice spears and a lot of liquid and solid attacks to prevent Persephone from killing him...well, it was obvious his proclamation was nothing but a lie.
  
  The black-haired son of Poseidon wasn't always surrounded by water, but he was clearly mastering Hydrokinesis to a point it was difficult to believe it couldn't be anything else but sorcery. And when he combined it with enchanted fire, weapons, and other things...
  
  Nevertheless, Lou Ellen wasn't exactly jealous. In the many days they had spent with Perseus Jackson, be it in the Labyrinth or the Underworld, she had learned that the boy had great powers, but also great insanity inside him too. How else did you explain the sheer number of artefacts he had stolen from divine-owned shops and warehouses?
  
  When the Olympians were going to review what they did during this Quest, the only thing Perseus was going to be able to be declared innocent with was that he hadn't plunged into the waters of the Styx.
  
  Everything else he had done. And in the case of infuriating Gods and Goddesses, it was almost a tradition by that point.
  
  "So you haven't bathed in the Styx," Persephone realised when the son of Poseidon began to bleed - it was a minor cut on his right arm, but apparently the Goddess of Spring had finally managed to wound him slightly. "Good. This will make things easier."
  
  "So you are completely unable to discover if someone has taken Achilles' Curse upon himself without hurting him," Perseus taunted her by imitating her voice. "Good. This will make things more interesting."
  
  "You aren't going to live another day, never mind this month." His enemy promised. "Do you really think any Olympian is going to raise his voice to defend you? Do you really think anyone will care about your survival?"
  
  "Congratulations, you understand nothing," Perseus fended another attempt to decapitate him as Persephone's hands became enormous claws radiating darkness. "It isn't about surviving the Quest...though frankly, I am a bit puzzled why you think your mother, uncles, aunts, and cousins are going to be successful killing me your father and his agents have a few years of failure under their belts."
  
  "You won't be able to hide-"
  
  Unfortunately for Persephone, she had focused too much on her first opponent, and the second used it viciously. Bianca di Angelo imitated the 'hands-turning-to-claws' effect, and her new natural weapons successfully pierced the divine flesh in Persephone's back.
  
  The Lightning Thief was quick, but not so quick that everyone didn't see her licking her new claws, drinking the drops of the golden ichor of her 'stepmother'.
  
  Then her claws became human fingers again.
  
  The Italian Demigoddess seemed more disappointed than anything else.
  
  "Damn you for interrupting my ritual so early, if I had a few more minutes of divine essence-"
  
  "You know, when I dreamed about a hypothetical meeting, I didn't think you would sound like a spoiled child, oh daughter of Hades."
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  "I mean, we all know Persephone is Daddy's little girl, whose main claim to fame is being kidnapped. Then the duo Sky-Underworld duo tried to decide or not if she was suitable as a breeding mare or not-"
  
  "You have just increased your session of torture by-"
  
  "But you, my dear, you were the greatest conqueror among the Dread Empresses. The chroniclers believed it was your boundless ambition which was guiding you, but more recently, I have come to believe you are simply a spoiled child."
  
  This time Perseus had gone too far. Both the Lightning Thief and the Queen of Hell had enough, and blasted him with sorcerous attacks at the same time.
  
  The Trident allowed him to survive, but the shockwave threw him away from the throne's stairs where most of the fighting was done.
  
  In fact, the son of Poseidon managed to crash just on her left, narrowly missing the ice imprisoning the pink crocodile.
  
  "I am going to feel it tomorrow," he definitely wasn't injured badly by it, since his grin was back.
  
  "You will feel nothing but the whips of the Furies cutting you piece by piece and-"
  
  Perseus ignored Persephone - as always - and instead went closer to her...and kissed her?
  
  What? Why was he-
  
  Her thoughts went completely...chaotic.
  
  "For luck," the green-eyed boy smirked before charging once again in the melee.
  
  "That was my first kiss, bastard!" Lou Ellen shouted. The daughter of Hecate threw an orb of fire after him, but of course he avoided it...
  
  "Let see the positive side," Ethan Nakamura commented.
  
  "There's a positive side?" Luke wondered loudly.
  
  "Sure. I just won a bet. Jackson definitely likes girls...maybe less than he try to infuriate people, but he likes them."
  
  "That, or he simply tries to antagonise every powerful sorceress he meets," Miranda smirked, sticking her tongue at Lou.
  
  Olympus and the Underworld damn it, now everyone in New Byzantium was going to know what had happened...
  
  About an hour ago, or so it seemed to her senses, Bianca had been told by her father that if she had not gone with a sneak attack to neutralise Persephone and him, she wouldn't have won.
  
  As much as she wanted to deny it, the former Dread Empress knew it was true.
  
  Even with the...let's call it 'help'...yes, the help of Perseus Jackson, Bianca was unable to vanquish Persephone.
  
  This was maddening.
  
  Persephone was a weak Goddess. Her equipment was sub-par; it had been too easy to demolish it, and evidently she had no replacement available.
  
  But all for her weaknesses, her lack of skill with a spear, and the son of Poseidon preventing Hades' wife from incinerating them with her divine form, two Named weren't able to defeat her.
  
  They had made the pale skin bleed, but the trickle of golden ichor was insignificant.
  
  Persephone wasn't fatally wounded. By all the demons of Creation, if they continued to fight like this, more likely they were going to die of exhaustion before Persephone lost a hundredth of her strength.
  
  "Jackson! Do you have a strategy to bring her low?" the former ruler of Praes asked as she struck twice more the chest of Persephone, ruining what was left of the divine-crafted armour. "And stop laughing!"
  
  "I thought you had one, given how enthusiastic you were stabbing her!" Of course, while the Demigod stopped laughing, he still had his eternally-cursed smirk.
  
  "I'm here, you know," the harpy grimaced, before trying to stab her once more. "And I won't let you drink my power again, bastard."
  
  "You might not have noticed given your titanic sense of self-righteousness," Bianca retorted, "but I did it only once. I won't do it again. I don't intend to replace the claim I made on father's throne, thank you very much."
  
  "What do you imply, bastard?"
  
  If Persephone thought she was going to hurt her by throwing her illegitimacy in her face, the Spring Goddess was going to wait a long, long time.
  
  Every time she had been born so far, Bianca was born a bastard. The only thing which had changed the second time was that her genitor was divine, not that her mother had given birth outside the 'sacred bonds' of marriage.
  
  "She implies," Perseus Jackson smiled, "that your power is too weak to be worth usurping. I totally agree with her."
  
  The Trident-armed Demigod summoned another wave to extinguish the flames and the spells Persephone had sent in his direction.
  
  "Your power is incredibly weak. I think that if Hades hadn't bolstered your power by giving you the Crown of the Underworld, you wouldn't be able to fight us seriously."
  
  "But he did, and the moment you will make a mistake, your souls will be mine!"
  
  "Promises, promises..."
  
  Was the other Demigod fundamentally unable to taunt her? Bianca had met hundreds of Heroes and Villains, plus hundreds of other Named during her conquests, and she didn't remember one being half as annoying as Perseus Jackson.
  
  "I have a strategy. Are you able to cast a variant of the Nightmare's Secret?"
  
  "Yes," the teenage girl whose soul had once been Dread Empress Triumphant answered. "I can. But what good it will do?"
  
  The Nightmare's Secret revealed to the caster the greatest fear of the being you wanted to target.
  
  When she had been Triumphant, Bianca had used it several times, mainly against heroes who managed to survive a skirmish against her.
  
  But she had never tried to do it against a Goddess or someone of that level of power. What good would it do? Persephone was a Goddess, assuming her greatest fear was Typhon being freed or something else, it wasn't like they could even conjure an illusion of the deed to frighten her father's harpy...
  
  "My dear, if I knew the secret behind that question, I wouldn't ask you to cast the spell, no?"
  
  The gates chose this moment to be reopened, forcing the idle Demigods to stand against a tide of halberd-armed skeletons.
  
  "That's cheating! I approve!"
  
  Annabeth grimaced and imagined she was stabbing Jackson instead of the animated skeleton her short sword had decapitated.
  
  It appeased her anger a bit...and the daughter of Athena went on to stab and sever more animated bones.
  
  "Jackson!" Luke called out. "Could you please stop antagonising the Hell Goddess? Some of us are trying to fight the skeleton waves while you're fighting her!"
  
  On her right, the son of Hades summoned more skeletons, creating a miniature fratricidal undead battle.
  
  "I deeply apologise, my heroic lieutenant!" The son of Poseidon of course did the very opposite thing he promised. "You heard that, Spring Goddess? Sending useless skeletons isn't working!"
  
  "JACKSON!" Zoë Nightshade shouted.
  
  Annabeth gritted her teeth and increased the pace of her strikes...and if her weapon struck viciously the skeletons between their legs when she could do it safely, then it was a mere coincidence.
  
  The blonde Demigoddess needed that stress-reliever, especially as more skeletons were storming in. Persephone had realised she wasn't up to the job, and the barred gates had opened...revealing the small army waiting outside.
  
  Fortunately, the Minotaur had thrown itself in the melee first, meaning the Demigods had just to kill the bone warriors which had survived the son of Pasiphaë and his enormous big axe.
  
  "This is the Nightmare's secret, Jackson!" the Lightning Thief exclaimed while doing a near-impossible acrobatic move to avoid being roasted by the infernal flames of Persephone. "Now your strategy!"
  
  "Well, since you asked...a mass illusion will be sufficient, I think."
  
  The entire world became blue for several seconds.
  
  And when it ended, everything had changed.
  
  "YES!" Annabeth shouted, as her old body was gone, and now she was a magnificent arachnid.
  
  But why was she feeling like she was in her human's body?
  
  And why were the others looking like spiders too?
  
  Only she had a spider's soul!
  
  No. No, this was just an illusion. Annabeth hadn't eight legs. She hadn't the physical means to weave spider silk. The Demigoddess couldn't spread her web.
  
  Damn him.
  
  "I hate you Jackson!" But her voice unravelled to be inaudible.
  
  "SPIDERS! I HATE SPIDERS!" Hades' wife shrieked and threw multiple orbs of hell-flame, poisonous spikes, and multiple arrows of darkness. "SPIDERS! DON'T APPROACH ME!"
  
  All missed of course, but part of the throne room was set aflame...just as Perseus-spider struck.
  
  Persephone, Goddess of Spring, was injured near her left shoulder. Instantly, all skeletons summoned froze instantly - something which transformed the battle in a one-sided Minotaur-made thrashing.
  
  And then the Lightning Thief added her own magic to the inferno.
  
  "If Creation is not mine, what need is there to be a Creation at all? Dawn of the Abyss!" Bianca di Angelo hissed in Ancient Greek, and as the flames burned, the Demigoddess looked very much like a madwoman. A fissure opened in the middle of Hades' fortress, and flames and hells were summoned.
  
  Persephone didn't avoid the attack.
  
  And as the battle ceased, the sound of Zeus' daughter hitting her own throne and collapsing in a fashion which had nothing to do with grace or elegance struck like the death knell of an era.
  
  In the seconds after, the only sound to break the silence was the lapping of the wave Perseus Jackson had conjured to extinguish the fires before they were too out of control.
  
  The illusion of their spider-selves broke. Annabeth felt a twinge of unease...and then decided to ignore it.
  
  There was more important at stake.
  
  The madman had done it. Sure, he had the Lightning Thief's help. True, Persephone was not a martial Goddess. And yes, the son of Poseidon had the Trident to balance the scales and prevent the immortal from revealing to them her divine form.
  
  But even after taking into consideration the strategic and tactical advantages...
  
  Perseus Jackson had engineered the defeat of a Goddess.
  
  Gods, how were Olympus and New Byzantium going to react?
  
  No one laughed or cheered as the Lightning Thief took golden manacles out of her pocket - most likely built from the same metal she had used in the cages and her unholy sarcophagus - and used them on Persephone's unconscious divine body.
  
  Maybe there should have been, Miranda acknowledged.
  
  But by the harvests of her mother, how do you react when someone has done something you knew was utterly impossible?
  
  The Demigoddess calmed her bronze ivy and tried to think calmly. It was more difficult than expected, and it wasn't because her self-control was bad or she was astonished by the level of destruction they had unleashed on Hades' hellish-themed decoration.
  
  Winning against a Goddess or a God was something which was utterly and completely impossible if you weren't a divine being yourself...or empowered by one.
  
  And yes, it didn't stop every Demigod and Demigoddess to have thought about defeating a member of the Greek-Roman Pantheon. The immortals were jerks - if you wanted to stay polite - and their behaviour often made the worst dictators in history look like models of humility, reason, and tolerance.
  
  But everyone at New Byzantium and outside knew armed rebellion was pointless. There always were some whispers that some Questers were searching for allies like the Titans and the Elder Giants of the legends, but that was all they were: whispers.
  
  The reality, and nothing during their Great Quest had convinced Miranda to change her mind on the subject, was that the Olympians were far too powerful to wage war against.
  
  Yes, Pasiphaë, Caligula and her sister, and some other people had dreams of usurpation. And because they had, they hid in a Zone Mortalis for centuries, and they would likely do so for centuries after they were all dead. Jackson hadn't said it, but Miranda was convinced that for an Olympian to overthrown, there would need to be a climatic fight between Apollo and Caligula. And the rest of Olympus was not going to stand aside and let the Roman pretender take the seat reserved to Zeus' son.
  
  The son of Poseidon spread a lot of chaos in his wake, but one had to face the truth: every time he had to fight a deity, it had been a contest of manipulation, trickery, lies, and deeds which required a great deal of ingenuity.
  
  But now Persephone was defeated.
  
  And that changed...everything.
  
  The daughter of Demeter was almost afraid to think about all the repercussions of this battle. They were too gigantic to not be worrying.
  
  As the silence reigned, Bianca di Angelo continued putting golden metal on her 'not-stepmother'. Hades' daughter in fact went so far as to levitate the Goddess' huge body back on her personal throne before chaining her hands, legs, and neck.
  
  "I think you can stop," Perseus obviously had to comment. "Without outside intervention, she isn't going to escape those bounds."
  
  "Excuse me if I don't want to fight her a second time!" the dark-haired Demigoddess retorted.
  
  "I don't think it has anything to do with our dear Persephone being able or unable to escape these manacles. I am more of the opinion you have a grudge against your stepmother."
  
  "For the last time, she is not..." the girl who had stolen the symbol of power of Zeus frowned before realisation lit her face. "You're not going to stop aren't you?"
  
  "What could possibly give you that idea?" the voice was so virtuous everyone among the Suicide Squad should be convinced of its falsehood. "Now we have to prepare our version of events about what happened here.
  
  "Oh, and how are you going to convince my father?" Bianca di Angelo asked sarcastically.
  
  "It's simple," Perseus Jackson played with the Trident before seizing another crystal glass, which he promptly filled with rum and handed it to Asterius the Minotaur. "It's all Hera's fault."
  
  A gigantic circle of fire opened several feet above the carpet in the middle of the throne room, and as if her name had summoned her, the Queen of the Gods jumped through it.
  
  But it wasn't the warrior Goddess they had seen what felt like one hour ago. This Hera had immaculate armour, golden spear, and an arrogant stance.
  
  This one however looked very much like she was been broken. Her armour was blackened in several places, when it wasn't presenting major holes in the divine-forged metal. The spear was broken...badly.
  
  Most of her face was covered in black dust and minor wounds.
  
  Hera had obviously not managed to defeat Hades - given how frenetically Hera looked in every direction, the Master of the Underworld was only seconds away from returning here - but the Master Bolt remained in her right hand.
  
  On the other hand, Miranda admitted that when her eyes fell upon Persephone's unconscious body, the Olympian's expression was really comical.
  
  It was only a guess, but...
  
  Maybe the weakening of the prison that Jackson had done wasn't the only reason Persephone had freed herself so quickly.
  
  "What happened here?"
  
  It was hard not to cackle.
  
  But there were compensations: the daughter of Aphrodite had the camera, and Hera's astonishment had been duly recorded for posterity and New Byzantium.
  
  "What happened here?"
  
  It was true their little spat had...caused some collateral damage. Not that he thought Hera cared much about it. It was Hades' fortress-palace.
  
  No, most of her stupefaction came from the fact Persephone was once more neutralised, despite Hera having certainly been involved in the breaking of the Orichalcum cage. The Spring Goddess shouldn't have been able to release herself so easily; the former Tyrant had used a single vial of Styx water, not a bucket or a bath worth of the dangerous substance.
  
  "We had a little disagreement about the true definition of the verb 'forgive'." He smiled at the...damn, Hades had truly smacked Hera like an unwanted goblin child. "It's nothing to worry about, oh, mighty Queen of Olympus. I think we have several things to-"
  
  Only a lifetime of dangerous battles and various disasters allowed him to parry the bolt Hera unleashed to kill him.
  
  Even then, he felt a lot of pain. Damn, Zeus' wife really wanted to kill him, eh? Well, if the Queen of Olympus didn't want to negotiate...she was going to be the sacrificial goat for everyone who mattered.
  
  "That was a mistake."
  
  "I don't think so." Blue eyes glared at him. "You are a nuisance which must be eliminated."
  
  Perseus chuckled, just as he activated the combination of coral which revealed one of the most dangerous powers of the Trident.
  
  "And you," he took great pleasure in replying, "should be aware the Trident has a lot of interesting powers. And I'm not taking about its capacity to access the rum reserves of Atlantis."
  
  "And what pray tell, is this extraordinary power?" Hera mocked him. "If it's about stopping me from incinerating you, you can save your saliva, Demigod. This magical skill works only on lesser Gods."
  
  "The Trident is the personal symbol of power of the God of the Seas, Oceans, and all watery immensities," it wouldn't be a monologue, but it was going to be as satisfying as one. The blue aura grew in terrifying intensity, and three seconds later, an immense wave came into being. "It stands to reason that invitation or not, someone who calls the Lord of Waves and Earthquakes this way can summon Him."
  
  The waves coalesced into a human figure, who rapidly revealed himself as a man who...well, it was definitely his father in this life. There was something impossible to describe properly. His clothes were of good facture, but there was something both calm and yet terrifyingly dangerous about him.
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad threw the Trident, and Poseidon greeted its return like one welcomed an old friend back.
  
  "Thank you, my son." The God's green eyes - at least he knew who had given him this particular colour - shone with amusement as he inspected his surroundings: Persephone's unconscious and chained body, the Lightning Thief Bianca di Angelo, plenty of skeletons in many bone parts, the extensive damage of the throne room, and of course, last but not least, Hera in possession of the Master Bolt. "I've seen you've been really, really busy. I don't think I caused such a ruckus at your age."
  
  "I'm going to take this as a compliment."
  
  "As well you should." The Lord of All Oceans smiled before returning to deadly seriousness. "Good afternoon, sister."
  
  "Poseidon. You should-"
  
  "Before beginning your confession, you should be aware Hades is about to make his grand entrance."
  
  The timing was truly excellent. There was just enough time to acknowledge the words, and then the Master of the Underworld stepped through, the Helm of Darkness levitated in a red corona by his side.
  
  Unlike Hera who looked visibly defeated, there wasn't even a scratch upon his equipment. It was good to know. Even among Olympians, it seemed there were different power thresholds...that or Hera was like Persephone, she relied too much on immolating people by revealing her true divine form when she couldn't get her way.
  
  "Thank you, brother." The black-haired God gave a thin smile which could have given a few nightmares to thousands of living creatures. He uttered a word, and a black whip grabbed the arm Hera was using to wield the Master Bolt. "I'm really curious about what happened here during the last...thirty-six minutes, was it?"
  
  "This is an interesting tale," Perseus began, only to be interrupted by his father. Damn it, he had the monologue ready in his head!
  
  "It will have to wait for a few minutes, my son." Poseidon cleared his throat. "This combination of the Trident didn't just summon me, you know. It also opened a direct communication line with Olympus. As such-"
  
  The Trident swirled with new colours.
  
  "I thought it would be far more prudent to summon the rest of the Council."
  
  They all flashed into the Underworld one by one. Hermes arrived first, which was only natural, God of Speed and everything, but he preceded only Apollo by two seconds. Then there was Artemis. Dionysus. Ares. Athena. Demeter. Aphrodite. Hephaestus.
  
  And last but not least, just as Persephone opened her eyes again, an enormous storm of gold-silver revealed him.
  
  "Hera..." The name was uttered with so much horror in it that it took all Perseus had and more not to explode in laughter.
  
  No matter how long he would live after today, it was worth it.
  
  Hera had been shocked discovering they had beaten Persephone.
  
  But it was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the disbelieving and horrified expression of the 'Master of Olympus'.
  
  "Zeus."
  
  "HERA!"
  
  "Zeus." Several beings - including Gods - began to chuckle nervously. "It is not-"
  
  Naturally, he couldn't let such an opportunity go unanswered.
  
  "Yes, it is exactly what it looks like."
  
  Author's note: You should have listened to Perseus' proposal, Hera. No matter what he promised, it would have been less painful and humiliating than being caught red-handed with the stolen Master Bolt.
  
  Officially, the Great Quest to recover the missing symbols of power is not over. There's still one more chapter to go...and after that there will be an Interlude, detailing some big and small changes the 'adventure' of the Suicide Squad has made upon the worlds of the living and the undead.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Scapegoats
  Chapter 10
  
  Scapegoats
  
  "You might think it is a good idea to let him speak. I assure you it isn't. Jackson is going to give you his version of the events. It will be filled with lies, whatever truths will be included in this tale will be undistinguishable from the rest of the story, and he will blame everyone but the chief culprit, who is naturally himself. But if you think you know better than us, go ahead. It's your funeral." Words attributed to Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis, long after the Lightning Thief Great Quest was over.
  
  "The art of victory relies on finding a nice scapegoat at the end of the Great Quest. Everything else is absolutely dispensable." Words attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  1 June 2006, Hades Fortress, the Underworld
  
  "Yes, it is exactly what it looks like."
  
  The moment the Gods barged into the devastated throne's room, Perseus knew the Great Quest was successful...and the riskiest seconds of their adventures were ahead of them.
  
  Sure, it was incredibly funny to see Zeus' horrified expression. It was extremely dangerous too.
  
  Thus he had to intervene, and play the best theatrical performance of his life.
  
  "It is all Hera's fault!" the son of Poseidon proclaimed, while grabbing Nico di Angelo in a hurry and pushing him towards the Master Bolt in a hurry as Hades neutralised Hera's power.
  
  Fortunately, the young son of Hades understood what was required of him and handed the Master Bolt to the 'legitimate owner'.
  
  "Too proud to give me the Master Bolt in person, son of the seas?" The Master of Olympus rumbled.
  
  "Of course not!" This time he was going to the truth...it served his purposes anyway. "It's just my companions and I have sworn an Oath on the Styx to not touch the Master of Bolt for the entire duration of this Great Quest...fortunately, the son of Hades your wife blackmailed into helping her while she betrayed you was-"
  
  "I had no need to blackmail them!" Hera raged predictably. "What they did-"
  
  Hades gagged her with something shadowy before she said something else.
  
  "As I was saying," he delighted in the expressions of disgust the Gods were giving the soon-to-be ex-Queen of the Gods, "the Goddess here did a lot of very nasty, nasty things. It is by her actions the son and daughter of Hades were able to leave the Lotus Casino. It is thanks to her help stealing your symbol of power was possible at all, Lord Zeus. With her reputation towards all Demigods and Demigoddesses, is it any wonder the children of Hades were afraid of her wrath and agreed to participate in this act of high treason against Olympus? And it is all Hera's fault."
  
  "This is ridiculous!" Ah, the Queen of Hell had woken up. "The daughter of Hades was no mere threatened servant! She was the chief of lieutenant of this treachery!"
  
  And naturally, the Goddess of Harvests and Agriculture was going to take her daughter's side, there was no need to be knowledgeable in the Greek philosophy to see it coming.
  
  "If my daughter says it-"
  
  "With due respect, Lady Demeter, the loyalty of your daughter to your husband and Olympus is very much in question," Perseus feigned to not notice the murderous glare Persephone's mother gave him. "I freed her from her cage where she was imprisoned, this I am ready to swear on the Styx. And yet for all the hour or so it took us to reach the Temple at the edge of the abyss and fight our way to Lord Hades, we saw no trace of her. The noble Goddess of Spring didn't rush to help her husband. And when the Master of the Underworld sent us back here, her first reaction wasn't to go help him, but to try to kill all Demigods involved, no doubt hoping Hera would emerge victorious and her crimes would never see the light of day. And it is all Hera's fault."
  
  "This is ridiculous," at this moment, Demeter was looking very much like the female version of her father Kronos, as her primary weapon was a sinister scythe of black vines and her armour was covered - or made, he wasn't exactly sure - with grey flowers. "My daughter is innocent!"
  
  Everyone noticed the remarkable celerity with which the Goddess of Agriculture tore apart the metal restraining her daughter, but no God dared commenting upon it.
  
  "Hades! Defend your wife!"
  
  "My wife didn't come to help me defeat Hera," the Master of the Underworld took his royal seat, "that I didn't really need the help is immaterial. And she should have known better than to try killing Demigods who have freed me before this conspiracy could have disastrous consequences."
  
  "I knew it!" Demeter's voice was not strident, but it wasn't exactly a model of sanity either. "I knew you were unworthy of her hand-"
  
  "I am the Judge of the Dead," Hades reminder her coldly. "I judge everyone-"
  
  "You are too fond of your bastards!" Persephone accused him. Perseus noticed that a few Gods were busy trying not to burst into laughter, Hermes and Apollo among them. "Fine, I made a mistake killing the 'Questers' sent by Byzantium. But the children you had with this Italian...courtesan...are traitors! Kill them, or I swear on the shards of heaven, the soul of the Earth Mother, and the Styx, that you will have an empty bed for countless nights!"
  
  Hades hesitated. Everyone present saw it. His eyes watched his children for several seconds...and then he shook his head.
  
  "No. I forgave them for their part in this...affair."
  
  Persephone's appearance changed. Seconds ago, she was definitely the Queen of Hell. Now her hair had turned to blonde, and her eyes were iridescent blue. When you added the gold-green robe and the various spring-themed jewellery, you got a perfect princess of Olympus in looks and stance.
  
  "Then enjoy you false righteousness alone!" Hades' wife said, and she vanished into a column of light.
  
  "I knew you were unsuitable as a husband!" Any other time, the ex-Tyrant would have made a comment or two about one person involved in curious events being allowed to leave without waiting for the judgement to be in its preliminary stages, but the Goddess of Harvests was gripping her very big scythe tightly, and appeared to look for an excuse, any excuse to use it. "Taking the side of these unworthy Demigods instead of your faithful wife..."
  
  Perseus felt a twinge of sympathy for Miranda, who had just been declared unworthy by her mother.
  
  "I am the Master of the Underworld, sister." Hades icily reminded her. "I deal with facts and the reality of death, which is often unpleasant. Unlike your illusions-"
  
  "My daughter is innocent and a victim in this entire affair! You should have taken her side, Hades!"
  
  And in a column of leaves and flowers, the Goddess left.
  
  "Your marriage is in jeopardy, Hades." Zeus remarked unhelpfully.
  
  "Thank you, brother," the Lord of Hell answered sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed."
  
  "Yes, yes," Ares intervened, baring his teeth stained with red. "And the war?"
  
  Most Gods and Goddesses present had changed their appearance several times since their arrival, but the God of War hadn't.
  
  He wore a US military uniform...sort of. The clothes had seen better days...in fact, there was a lot of things which would see him thrown out of a regular military faster than you could say 'sorcery'. The red bandana on his head and the long hirsute hair were clearly unprofessional.
  
  Now that he thought about it, Perseus thought Ares had definitely a family air with this movie character...how was he called again? Rambo?
  
  "The war is not going to happen, Ares," Athena said in an exasperated tone. "Hades wasn't responsible for the Master Bolt's disappearance."
  
  "And here I thought we were going to have fun..." the God releasing an aura of bloodlust and sheer brutality grumbled while grabbing a cigar, putting it in his mouth, and lighting it, just as a pair of mobile phones were levitated near his ears. "Rico? Cancel the last missile package, the Council has cold feet about World War III! Yeah, too bad about the new drones, but I'm sure we will find a new conflict to test our napalm bombs upon!"
  
  Ares stopped speaking as plenty of his brothers and fellow Gods were giving unamused looks.
  
  Impressively, it didn't seem to bother him that much, though the son of Poseidon was ready to bet he had millennia of experience on the subject. Instead he turned towards Clarisse.
  
  "Nice killing count you have, girl," the God of War told his daughter before grabbing the M134 Minigun he kept on his back and throwing it to the berserker of the Suicide Squad. Fortunately, it decreased in size and weight, otherwise Clarisse would have been crushed by the weight of the weapon. "But if you want to best me, you will have to use more than the traditional stuff. Ammunition is on me. And tell your brothers and sisters that if they want the same toys, they have to take the serious Quests. I don't reward my kids who go on safe and secure adventures for weaklings. They have to do things as crazy as this one," a knife was pointed directly in his direction, "and do-"
  
  "Ares," Athena emotionlessly stopped the warmongering 'motivation speech'.
  
  "Sorry, drone strikes to take care of," the God of War said unrepentantly, before leaving in a hurry, the audience knowing it was one of the most obvious lies to ever be uttered.
  
  Zeus sighed. Perseus felt absolutely no sympathy whatsoever for him. Ares was his son, and Hera was the mother of the God of War. It was not difficult to imagine how Ares had turned out like this, not when you saw the 'talent' of the two deities doing the 'parenting'.
  
  But the moment of sadness or 'my son is a bloodthirsty brute' did not last long. Soon - and he was speaking of seconds here - the arrogance returned, and it was properly colossal.
  
  "Now, we have a lot of people in dire need of a severe punishment."
  
  "Now, we have a lot of people in dire need of a severe punishment."
  
  Luke stopped breathing. The God of Thunder's words couldn't be mistaken for a declaration of support, and the stern face the Master of Olympus presented to them was evidence itself all the Questers and person present were to be 'punished'.
  
  "There will be no need for any punishment," Jackson intervened brazenly, "Lord Dionysus we have returned the Master Bolt and solved the mystery of how it was stolen and why. I think this Great Quest is officially over, no? And it is all Hera's fault anyway."
  
  "Quite right," the Director of New Byzantium said, ignoring his father who was glaring at him murderously. "Though there is the matter of my son..."
  
  "Oh, Dakota is doing adult things with one of Lord Hades' servants," the son of Poseidon revealed like it was the most normal thing in the world. "And it is Hera's fault."
  
  "What Perseus Jackson implies," Hades smiled, and wasn't it a terrifying thing? "is that your son, Dionysus, is copulating with Megaera in one of my personal dungeons."
  
  For a second, the God of Wine failed to react...but then he erupted in laughter, and it began to rain grapes and wine.
  
  "Excellent! EXCELLENT!" the most recent member of the Council laughed and several members of the Suicide Squad began to laugh with him. "Eleutherian Wine?"
  
  "Eleutherian Wine," Jackson confirmed. "I blame Hera."
  
  "You did a great service to..." Zeus' glare intensified, "I mean, it's dreadful, absolutely dreadful. I will have to taste...I mean I will have to confiscate all the barrels of Eleutherian Wine in your possession."
  
  "It's your right and privilege," the black-haired son of Poseidon grinned, "we were saying two full barrels of Eleutherian Wine? I blame Hera for the entire affair."
  
  "It's a deal!" Dionysus smile before roaring. "I DECLARE THE GREAT QUEST ACCOMPLISHED!"
  
  Luke couldn't say he had the knowledge or the contacts Perseus Jackson did, but when the God of Wine spoke, there was...a heavy pressure in the air. Like Fate itself had been listening to the words.
  
  "Oh, I must search for my son and save him from the claws of this lustful Erinye, woe is me!" the Director of the Demigod's city departed in a blaze of purple light which smelled like ten exotic drinks.
  
  Since his son wasn't here to be on the receiving end of his anger, the King of the God's wrathful temper was turned towards his brothers.
  
  "Poseidon, this isn't-"
  
  "I sincerely hope," the God of the Seas said in a falsely jovial tone, "that your next words are going to be: don't worry, brother, I didn't serious intend to punish your son. Otherwise I would be very suspicious why my son thinks he needs diplomatic immunity..."
  
  "Diplomatic immunity?" Annabeth asked, her curiosity overriding everything else which might have stopped her from delving in matters of knowledge.
  
  It was her mother who answered. Athena, armoured like a hoplite of the ancient times, wore a large shield which wasn't the Aegis, since its symbol was a silver owl. Her face was...emotionless and neutral.
  
  "A Great Quest, assuming it is successful, grants an immunity of one year, one month, and one day from punishment by the Council of Olympus. This is one of the rewards granted to heroes who have showed their loyalty by-"
  
  "They aren't loyal, Athena!" Zeus interrupted her rudely.
  
  "No," the Goddess of Wisdom approved, and Luke thought they were going to be incinerated here and there, "but then you ordered they were to be denied all forms of support, father. May I repeat the words you spoke a couple of months ago?"
  
  "You may not," Zeus growled.
  
  "In that case," the Patron Goddess of the Athenians said in a conversational voice, "unless you can bring more rational arguments to the table, the Ancient Laws will allow the diplomatic immunity to stand. Heroes are showing their loyalty by the completion of their Quests; it isn't Olympus' right to delve into the heads of our Questers and examine the motivation of their deeds one by one."
  
  "Very well," the Master of Olympus spoke like he had an urgent meeting with someone who was going to rip him the teeth from his mouth. "But this immunity only applies to the Questers themselves. The two Lightning Thieves have helped my treacherous wife steal my symbol of power, and for this they will be judged by the Council of Olympus!"
  
  Luke supposed he should feel very bad, but right now, the son of Hermes was extremely relieved to have avoided this fate...and in the back of his head, the thief of the Garden of Hesperides wondered how in the hell Jackson had discovered this 'particularity' of the Great Quest. No one at New Byzantium could have informed him, since none of the Demigods and Demigoddesses had discovered it from their divine parents or someone else.
  
  Power surged, and the throne room began to smell like two winds of cold and warm weather just before a lightning storm...
  
  "No." Hades refused. "They are my children, they are in my domain, and if they will be judged by someone, it will be by my authority and no one else."
  
  Luke took a step back without thinking, because Zeus didn't like being denied at all...
  
  Ethan couldn't help but feel very surprised by the fact Hades remained true to his vows. Yes, the Lord of Underworld had promised his children that he had forgiven them, but without a vow on the Styx...well, the son of Nemesis had made several assumptions. These assumptions had been clearly wrong...it didn't happen often.
  
  "Athena?"
  
  There had been one or two seconds while Zeus hesitated, his divine form transforming into a tower of lightning and storms, but after fifteen seconds it returned to the more 'conservative' image of a man in black suit in the prime of his life. It was too bad for the Master of Olympus that there was no cure to prevent his titanic arrogance from shining through this 'respectable appearance'. In fact, the more he tried, the more Zeus' efforts made him appear as a young and absolutely amoral politician.
  
  Ethan wasn't going to say Poseidon was his favourite God, but the Sea God didn't waste his time into making them feel miserable or insignificant: in the clothes a tourist frequenting assiduously the beaches would have, the Olympian reigning upon the oceans was drinking a ruby-coloured drink.
  
  "Hades has the Ancient Laws in his favour where his children are concerned," the Goddess of Strategy replied, incidentally ignoring the antics of Apollo and Hermes betting on a lot of things behind her. "The situation is...more complicated for Hera."
  
  "She is my wife!" The now-beardless God thunderously proclaimed. "It is my right to punish her for her betrayals!"
  
  The son of the Goddess of Vengeance didn't believe in coincidences, and that Hades clicked his fingers a few heartbeats before Hera's gag vanished removed all his doubts on the subject.
  
  "Oh, I am your wife?" the sister-wife of the Master of Olympus acidly commented. "It could have fooled me...with all the mortal whores and the nymphs you invite daily into your bed!"
  
  "We are not here today to judge my adventures, but your betrayals and the oaths you broke!"
  
  "How could I break my oaths, when you haven't upheld your part of the bargains, Zeus?" Hera spat her venom.
  
  Apollo summoned large bags of popcorn for everyone, and though his twin sister glared, no one told him it was unnecessary.
  
  The 'spectacle', after all, was just beginning.
  
  "You swore you would not try to usurp my throne!"
  
  "That was before you were ready to usher a new Great Prophecy for the sake of this alcoholic attention whore! Did you realise she would have thrown you into Tartarus if there had been a God higher in Olympus' hierarchy?"
  
  Many Gods and Goddesses ate popcorn. Their crazy leader did it too...and he took notes between two episodes of mastication.
  
  Still, the argument was getting louder and louder, and Ethan focused his attention on it. It was just exhilarating, seeing the Gods tearing each other verbally like that.
  
  "I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE KEPT THIS GOLDEN ANVIL AROUND YOUR NECK!"
  
  "NOT BEFORE I MADE YOU A EUNUCH, BLIND FOOL!"
  
  "THEY SHOULD HAVE MADE YOU THE GODDESS OF POISONS AND BETRAYALS!"
  
  "WHY DIDN'T YOU CHOOSE THE RABBIT AND THE GOAT AS YOUR SYMBOLS, SINCE YOU SPEND AS MUCH TIME AS THEM FORNICATING?"
  
  The whole 'conversation' felt it lasted like hours, but more likely it was an affair of approximately twenty minutes.
  
  "ENOUGH!" the unfaithful husband barked as his wife threw a few more 'secret relationships' straight in his face and a lot of beings present undoubtedly wondered how by everything that was holy the two had failed to murder each other across the millennia. "Enough. Since you're unrepentant about your crimes-"
  
  "Be a man and admit you fail to rule anywhere which isn't your bedrooms..."
  
  "You are a monster of pride and arrogance, wife," the worst part was that Zeus' voice held no trace of self-awareness about his gigantic hypocrisy. "I tolerated your jealousy and the rest of your deplorable behaviour for far too long. Hephaestus, the chains!"
  
  Covered in grease, scars, and more viscous things that weren't properly identified, Hephaestus, God of the Forges and Smiths, looked very much like a villain. And the nasty smirk he had as he advanced towards his mother wasn't reassuring at all.
  
  Hera's eyes...yes, they were filled with hatred, but as the enormous chains which were summoned by her son were the same golden metal the sarcophagus and the cages used - Orichalcum, they called it - glaring was all she could do; resistance was futile by that point.
  
  "She is going to be punished most severely, brother," Zeus told Hades, "I swear it on my Throne."
  
  Everyone heard the capital letter for the last word.
  
  The divine trio of father, mother, and son disappeared for several seconds, and when they went back, the Goddess of Marriages wasn't with them anymore.
  
  "Our sister is going to pay for her betrayal. Now it is time for you to judge your children."
  
  Hades nodded.
  
  "Indeed it is. Bianca, come forwards."
  
  If she had the power to do it, Bianca di Angelo would have tried to murder the majority of the Gods present in the throne room.
  
  But this power had never been hers. Even if she had the power she held after conquering Calernia, the former Dread Empress wasn't sure she could have triumphed over them. For all their foolishness, those Gods of the Greek-Roman pantheon were truly powerful, far more than the Angel she had slain or the Giants she had humiliated an eternity ago.
  
  Without her demons and legions of devils this world didn't have, defeating a God was not something her magical skills had a slight chance of achieving.
  
  And Zeus looked like he wanted to incinerate her...it would be funny to see how much pain the attunement ritual would cause him the first time he used his Master Bolt, but alas it wouldn't decrease his accuracy. She would like die, or at least be horribly wounded. It was best to avoid for as long as possible.
  
  "Father," the black-haired daughter of Hades advanced towards the throne and bowed ironically.
  
  "Do you want to add something to what has already been said?"
  
  "Not really," Bianca didn't like the son of Poseidon - he had made sure her apotheosis failed epically - but he had made sure most of her crimes fell upon Hera's head. She wasn't going to try to convince the rest of the assembly - a group which unlike Hades and she had little idea of the true magnitude of her crimes - that she was the one to punish instead of the Queen of Olympus.
  
  "In this case, hear the judgement of the Lord of the Underworld," Hades began in a voice which mirrored the pompous tone used by Zeus. "I declare you guilty with attenuating circumstances. As you were misled by Hera, the punishment will be long and educative."
  
  "And in an understandable language, this means?" Apollo asked, the playboy stopping an instant munching his popcorn.
  
  "In plain Greek, it means I sentence you to live inside the boundaries of the Demigod colony of New Byzantium until you reach your eighteenth birthday, the time you spent inside the Lotus Casino being deducted beforehand." Golden armbands appeared from nowhere and tightened around her limbs. "You won't be authorised to leave the lands where Dionysus is Camp Director without his express permission, or a voluntary participation to a Great Quest. As for your powers of sorcery and divine legacy, they are temporarily inactive, and will only be accessible should I or Perseus Jackson give you the magical word. You will partake in all the activities children of your age must do, such as cleaning the stables of diseased horses, repairing the shields and the weapons after exciting capture-the-flag games, and finding all the missing arrows of the sons of Apollo among many things."
  
  Hermes laughed raucously. Bianca didn't find it funny at all.
  
  "Oh that is evil..."
  
  "Brother," Zeus growled, "you are not serious!"
  
  "It is Sirius, not serious," Apollo groaned loudly, "sorry, I learned this pun into one of those interesting fiction books. Nico, come forwards my son."
  
  Her brother did it, with far more enthusiasm than she did, now that it became obvious they weren't going to be killed.
  
  "You were led astray by your sister," the God of Death slightly altered the version of 'it's all Hera's fault', certainly as a warning to her, "thus your punishment will be limited to a stay at New Byzantium until you reach...the equivalent of your fifteenth birthday."
  
  "HADES!" The God of Thunder's wrath was a palpable thing, and the throne room smelled of lightning and storms. "How dare you call this travesty of justice a punishment? You didn't even punish the son of Poseidon!""
  
  "Ah, thank you for reminding me this awful omission, brother," the Lord of the Underworld said in a tone which fooled no one and certainly not the irate Master of Olympus. "Perseus Jackson, for the impressive collateral damage you caused...you are going to educate my son two hours per day in every subject he wishes to know for the next month, including how to play correctly the game of Mythomagic cards. The House of Hades has a reputation of excellence to uphold. And as my previous judgement hinted at, you will be the top overseer who will make sure my daughter becomes a loyal servant of Olympus."
  
  Bianca internally grimaced. She was going to be under the supervision of this mad Demigod until her eighteenth birthday?
  
  "YOU CALL THIS JUSTICE?"
  
  "You call the Demigods who freed me 'adequate help'?"
  
  "This judgement won't stand!" Zeus thundered, fury and lightning burning in his eyes. "I will order a new tribunal to be convened, led by someone reliable!"
  
  "If you're thinking about Minos, I'm afraid his shade is prisoner in the Kraken's belly, oh Lord Zeus..."
  
  Apollo cheered at the son of Poseidon's declaration, but he was an exception. Most of the audience was staring at Perseus Jackson in shock. How had he been able to anticipate the intentions of the King of Crete's genitor days ago?
  
  "It is all Hera's fault, naturally."
  
  "There are other Judges," Zeus gritted his teeth so hard it made a horrible shrieking sound, "and many of them-"
  
  "Many of them swore oaths to you, yes...but you named me as the oath-binder!"
  
  The smell of lightning and tempest dissipated, and darkness poured into the room.
  
  The shadows and the night rapidly formed into a humanoid shape, and within ten seconds a Goddess Bianca was very familiar with was standing in all her masked glory at the entrance of the Throne Room of the Underworld.
  
  "Styx..."
  
  And for the first time, there was a small amount of...apprehension in the God's voice.
  
  Perseus had to admit the timing was perfect.
  
  A few minutes too late, and Zeus would have certainly tried to incinerate a few Demigods in order to heal his wounded pride. A few minutes earlier, there would have been far more Olympians, including Ares, that the 'wise Master of Olympus' would have teamed up with Artemis against the River-Goddess of Hatred.
  
  But right now, there were fewer Olympians watching the proceedings, and most of them were wary but not deathly afraid of Styx.
  
  "Styx...you betrayed me."
  
  "Don't flatter yourself," the daughter of the Sea Titans said derisively. "To betray someone, one has to be loyal to him in the first place. And you never stayed true to your oaths long enough so that I would have some confidence in your rule."
  
  The most powerful of the Oceanids grew in size, and as she did, the throne room drowned under a sea of night. Spears of darkness were hurled at Zeus.
  
  Perseus closed his eyes, and one heartbeat later his caution paid: there was some massive divine light which engulfed everything, and when he reopened his eyes, he saw many members of the Suicide Squad had been temporarily blinded.
  
  Of Zeus, there was no trace. If Styx's frowning mask was any indication, the King of the Gods had fled to the world above, where the weight of his broken oaths didn't matter that much, since Styx couldn't follow without ushering an apocalyptic war.
  
  "You may not have betrayed Zeus, but you certainly betrayed me," Hades declared.
  
  "Your daughter is far more visionary than you are," Styx retorted.
  
  "Perhaps," the Lord of the Underworld conceded. "Yet your actions are not something I can forgive easily. You authorised two Demigoddesses to bathe into your waters. You conquered a new domain without my permission..."
  
  Ah yes, if Styx was here, it meant Phlegethon had been soundly defeated...
  
  "I am far more powerful than I was before the Master Bolt was stolen," Styx reminded her former liege.
  
  "Does that mean you intend to rule the dead in my place?" The way the question was posed made the son of Poseidon wonder how much of a chore ruling the Underworld truly was.
  
  "No!" well, apparently, the answer was 'titanic chore'.
  
  "Well it's too bad," Hades smirked, "for your abject betrayal, I condemn you to leave an island in the middle of your new sea which will be used as the headquarters of new bureaucratic branch of Hell. You will be in charge of it for the next...five centuries. For the twelve millions of souls you absorbed, I acknowledge you as the second most powerful deity of the Underworld...with all the duties which are assigned to this prestigious position."
  
  "Lord Hades..." it was amusing how the Oceanid was trying to avoid her punishment, but failed utterly to discover an angle of attack. "Many of those prerogatives and duties...belonged to your Lady wife..."
  
  "Oh, don't worry, she wasn't interested in fulfilling them," the Lord of Hell 'reassured' his treacherous servant, "Persephone was spending half of her time shopping when she was supposed overseeing the royal audiences."
  
  Megaera the Fury reappeared, wearing a very different garb than the last time, and prostrated herself before her Master.
  
  "And now that I think about it, Megaera, please block my wife's credit cards. If she wishes that I sleep alone, I see no point in supporting her ruinous expenses across five hundred luxury shops."
  
  Ouch. Perseus couldn't say he knew women very well, but he had enough knowledge to acknowledge that kind of move was really the big red button to not touch unless you were willing to go for a divorce.
  
  Had his actions really been that destructive and changed the Greek Pantheon forever?
  
  If it happened, it would be extremely amusing! Ha! It wasn't even written anywhere near his list of goals!
  
  "Your will be done," the Fury ran out of the room, and didn't throw them a glance. Was the son of Bacchus that good in the dungeon bed when he was properly 'motivated'?
  
  "Kneel," Hades ordered, and Styx, for all her newly extended domain, for all her natural strength, for all the souls devoured by her essence, was unable to resist.
  
  Naturally, the former Tyrant learned many secrets from this simple move. Hades had likely been the weakest of the three brothers once upon a time; Demeter hated his guts, and most of his brothers and relatives were happy to forget he existed in the first place.
  
  "Do not betray me again, daughter of Tethys. Your punishment won't be as lenient if there is a second betrayal."
  
  For a brief moment, the Throne Room was swallowed by darkness, and Styx opportunistically left.
  
  "Now are there any other problems which must be judged?"
  
  "There are!" Oh, it was Artemis' turn? This was going to be good... "The son of Poseidon trapped my lieutenant, and I want him to be punished for his crimes!"
  
  When the twelve Olympians had arrived, Lou Ellen hadn't liked what she saw. Taken by surprise, the Gods had arrived with an appearance they felt comfortable adopting for their daily activities, not the images they wanted to sell to their adoring public. And no, it wasn't really pretty.
  
  In a sense, it was Ares who won the laurels of honesty; while the God of War was a bloodthirsty monster, he didn't try to disguise his true nature.
  
  Artemis was at the bottom of this unofficial contest. The Goddess of the Hunt hadn't changed her size. She still was as tall as a thirteen-year-old girl. But it hadn't been furs of various animals Artemis had donned when she teleported into Hades' greatest hall.
  
  And the looks she gave to the male Demigods...granted, Jackson was unbearable on a good day, but the Huntresses' bitter hatred for men and boys had to come from somewhere.
  
  "Crimes, crimes...always unfounded accusations. I told your Huntress...many times...she had bad ideas. And she didn't listen to me. I swear it on the Styx! And this is all Hera's fault."
  
  The walls shook, but the floor didn't open to swallow Perseus Jackson.
  
  "You-"
  
  "Lady Artemis, it isn't my fault Julia Drusilla wishes to usurp you. I certainly have no authority upon releasing the dead, and the power of Selene is not mine to give. Blame Hera."
  
  "The Demigod speaks the truth, Artemis," Hades had somehow stolen a nice supply of popcorn from Apollo's stashes. Of course, the daughter of Hecate admitted, it gave the impression the Lord of Hell didn't take the situation seriously... "And personally, I must say I like the relooking your lieutenant received. This silver armour is far sexier than the huntress garb."
  
  "Pig," the retort was so fast it had to be a reflex.
  
  "May I remind you I'm the Judge here, Artemis?" Hades turned his head towards Jackson. "Drawing power from the Land of the Dead is already a difficult exploit, but using the power of long-faded Titans borders on the realm of the impossible...without my support, only the trio of Immortal Sorceresses are capable of attempting this feat."
  
  "The new Roman triumvirate has Medea with them." Jackson nodded, and weirdly seemed to avoid the jokes wherever the Master of the Underworld asked for his opinion. Maybe it was because the 'punishment' was so lenient? "We didn't meet her, but I suppose they offered her apotheosis and all the other benefits besides immortality in exchange of her sorcerous help. And it is Hera's fault."
  
  "You are supposed to keep these dangerous prisoners locked away for eternity, Hades," Artemis seethed.
  
  "And you are supposed to hunt all threats to Olympus," her 'uncle' icily retorted, "not just males who made the mistake of finding you naked and monsters which happen to make excellent fur coats. Yet I find out today a triumvirate is trying to usurp many thrones, and has been active for centuries. I am defended to leave my realm except under very specific circumstances. What is your excuse, daughter of Leto?"
  
  Artemis really, really hated men. Well, that and the truth. Otherwise she wouldn't glare that way. Not when the target was Lord Hades, and it was evident to all the Hell God could easily wipe off the floor with her if he desired to increase the destruction damage his Throne Room had suffered.
  
  "Oh come on, it is not the end of the world," sometimes the sorceress really wondered if Jackson had a death wish... "There is a vast array of solutions, Lady Artemis...besides blaming Hera."
  
  The words of the Goddess would certainly have been very impolite, but fortunately Apollo arrived and placed a hand above her mouth, giving his twin sister an embarrassing hug.
  
  It had to be said, at this moment, Apollo and Artemis didn't look like siblings at all. One was tall, muscular, and bathed in light; the Goddess was small, feral, and covered in furs. The God by comparison wore a flamboyant red T-Shirt and looked like a narcissist movie star.
  
  "And what is your solution, Perseus Jackson?" To his credit, Lou Ellen supposed, Apollo was really listening to him.
  
  "Well, you kill the usurpers, of course!" The son of Poseidon had somehow found a new glass filled with some fruit juice that he emptied before continuing. "I mean, Caligula has not been really careful with his security, so a God of your level should not have any trouble...provided Hera has not caused more damage as we speak."
  
  "I can't go into the Labyrinth for long," the Sun God shook his head. "The risk of setting fire to everything and waking up...the Earth...is too great."
  
  "Yes, I thought there was something like it at work." Perseus nodded thoughtfully. "Otherwise I doubt Geryon would have been so brazen about transforming your sacred cows into cheeseburgers the first time I visited. Oops, I didn't say that, those are not the droids you're looking-"
  
  "WHAT?" Apollo burst into golden flames. "THAT BASTARD! HE SWORE HE WAS GOING TO TREAT THEM LIKE GODDESSES! I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!"
  
  Everyone closed his eyes, because the sun rose for the first time in Hell.
  
  "Jackson..." Zoë Nightshade was looking at the Suicide Squad leader with some revulsion and...admiration? "Did you-"
  
  "Ah, and if your mistress can't kill Neo Selene, there's a simpler option to avoid servitude, dear Huntress. And yes, it is Hera's fault."
  
  "And this solution is?" the exiled Hesperides asked in a suspicious tone, ignoring the last words.
  
  "Why, the Gods give you the apotheosis you deserve, of course!" A lot of beings gaped, included Hermes. "I mean, you served the mistress of an evil lesbian cult for thousands of years, surely that has to count for a major life sacrifice!"
  
  "I AM NOT A LESBIAN!"
  
  "MY GIRLS AREN'T AN EVIL LESBIAN CULT!"
  
  Oh yes, Perseus Jackson had definitely a death wish. If Hades had not been there...well, Ancient Laws or no Ancient Laws, Perseus would likely have been turned into a rabbit. And then been impaled by a lot of very sharp and deadly objects, in all likelihood.
  
  "Wait you mean they haven't enjoyed each other for-"
  
  Fortunately for the life expectancy of many Demigods, Hades summoned a gag and stopped Jackson from digging his grave further.
  
  "Artemis. Go." Hades spoke tersely, in a tone betraying his impatience at the multitude of screw-ups he had just been informed and now had to take into account for the future of his realm.
  
  The Goddess of the Hunt stormed out so fast she was a blur, and her Huntress lieutenant left with her.
  
  Before anyone could utter a word, Zeus reappeared, and he didn't look happy.
  
  "What in the name of the pits happened here?"
  
  Like most children of Aphrodite, Drew had dreamed several times about seducing the Master of Olympus. What? If you played your cards right, you could become the new Queen of the Gods. The problem, and it had been for millennia, was Hera...well, Hera and closing your eyes on the endless number of sexual affairs the God of Thunder enjoyed year after year with mortal women.
  
  But now looking at the King of the Gods in person, Drew could only feel disgust. Zeus had not given them anything to be successful when it came to the Great Quest, and the moment Styx threatened him, he fled with his tail between his legs.
  
  Seriously, that was the King of the Gods?
  
  "What in the name of the pits happened here?"
  
  "Don't worry, brother," Hades replied in a bored tone. "You haven't missed much. There was just the confirmation your twins have monumentally failed in their duties and royally missed the presence of usurpers to their domains and thrones."
  
  The next sentences were filled with a lot of subtle hints the daughter of Aphrodite didn't understand the undertones of, but the core of the message was clear: there was a Triumvirate of Roman Emperors who was at large, and they did intend to overthrow the current Pantheon reigning on Mount Olympus.
  
  "And none of you took measures to slay those treacherous gods?" the currently blonde-haired God barked.
  
  "Well," a voice which was as heavenly as its owner purred, "before the daughter of Hades told them how divine usurpation was possible, their efforts were not really threatening."
  
  "Aphrodite..."
  
  Drew felt her heart beat faster as her mother walked, her divine body the symbol of its grace itself, her clothes, hair, and skin colour changing until it changed into the form several Demigods had reported to be her warrior look: protected by a purple armour, her mother was now a blonde with perfect blue eyes.
  
  "You surpassed my expectations, Drew. I think you are ready for additional training-"
  
  "Yes, yes! You can speak to your daughter later! What did you know about the Roman usurpers and what didn't you inform Olympus immediately?"
  
  The soft skin of her mother touching her was a near-miraculous thing to experience, and Drew wanted it to never end. But it did and when it stopped, she gasped.
  
  "I informed you, Zeus. You told me vague feelings of rivalry were no proof, and to come back when I would get it. But since there wasn't..."
  
  The Goddess of Love shrugged, and everything that was beautiful and martial seemed to pour into her divine body.
  
  "Hunting those usurpers must now be your utmost priority."
  
  "No, my priority is to arrange an amicable divorce." Her blonde mother smiled, and the whole world seemed to shine when she did it. "Hera isn't in the way anymore, and I won't stand being married to Hephaestus a second more than necessary."
  
  "I support this course of action," the God of Smiths immediately agreed, and Drew saw behind him Hermes and Poseidon exchange Drachmas and other objects.
  
  "Out of the question!" Zeus was prompt to retort. "The marriages have been consummated, and they will stand as symbols of stability and civilisation!"
  
  There was a long silence after those words. It was most likely because everyone marvelled at the sheer hypocrisy of the Master of Olympus, Drew acknowledged. After the hateful exchange with his wife, it was a near-certainty Zeus was going to divorce Hera...or at least live like they were divorced, whatever it meant for unfaithful Gods.
  
  "Then I will rule my domain as I wish," Aphrodite raised an eyebrow and dismissed Zeus' orders. "Drew I will come to teach you after the Summer Solstice. Be prepared."
  
  "Yes, mother..."
  
  Her nose informed her that an entire lake of perfume had been thrown in the palace of Hades, and somehow it felt...right. Her armour changed to a purple colour and was more...seductive, yet dangerous.
  
  But there was no time to wonder on the good news, not when Zeus seethed and several sparkles of his Master Bolt struck the ruined carpet and the damaged floor.
  
  "Hephaestus," the God of Thunder turned towards his very, very ugly son. "You will make sure your wife follows my orders."
  
  "Yes, I suppose it falls to me as her husband, doesn't it?" The chief weapon-maker and automaton-creator of Olympus replied with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Why are we still married in the first-"
  
  The glare the Lord of Olympus gave him was particularly impressive, and Poseidon didn't help the situation by chuckling while drinking a cocktail on a deckchair.
  
  The God of Forges sighed, a sound which could have come from a mountain.
  
  "Permission at least to transform back my son? At least I think it is my son, I don't remember creating a machine to pour my essence into donkeys..."
  
  Drew closed her eyes and counted to ten trying not to giggle. It didn't work. The giggles escaped her lips, and soon she was laughing, unable to stop herself. She wasn't the only one.
  
  It stopped when Jake Mason began to bray in agony.
  
  Oh, he slowly returned to his human form...if very slowly. But the son of Hephaestus screamed, and he screamed hard. From all evidence available, the prospect wasn't enjoyed, and didn't involve new clothes, the pleasurable presence of her mother, or anything which might be associated with Charmspeak and pleasurable transformations.
  
  It took a couple of minutes for Jake Mason to return to his pre-race appearance...well something which looked like his previous appearance. Since the God of Fire and Smiths had not summoned clothes to go along with the change, Drew could see the numerous metal prostheses everywhere on Jake's body, but especially on the back, which seemed to be a carapace of metal, not human skin.
  
  "Not a bad work, the spine really had to be replaced," Hephaestus commented as he watched his son like one observed a device. "I hope will enjoy the benefits of the new parts, son."
  
  Hephaestus teleported out in flames and the pungent smell of an industrial foundry struck everyone's nose. Drew didn't like it at all. Seriously, there were people who enjoyed sciences, machines, and the technology, and there was...well, Hephaestus.
  
  Yes, she could see why her mother's priority was to get a divorce.
  
  "The flesh is weak," Perseus Jackson commented idly, nodding like everything which happened was normal!
  
  "I...I blame you, Jackson."
  
  "Why should I be blamed this time?" the son of Poseidon asked rhetorically, his expression one of - fake - disappointment. "We got you out of the Novus Circus Maximus alive, and you are now repaired! I think Hera is the guilty party!"
  
  "WE KNOW!" Half of the Suicide Squad shouted.
  
  The leader of their Great Quest inclined his head, as if he was sorry for the events which continued to unravel.
  
  "I am not a machine, Jackson!"
  
  "Well, now you classify as a cyborg, I think, my no-longer-donkey-lieutenant!"
  
  "Screw you, Jackson! I swear, I will never participate into a Quest wherever you are involved and-"
  
  A new horrible scream echoed in front of Hades' throne, but this time, it wasn't Jake Mason who suffered.
  
  It was Annabeth, and while the daughter of Aphrodite and the daughter of Athena weren't friends at all, she couldn't help but pity her, as Athena had one of her palms in contact with the grey-eyed girl, and whatever the Goddess of Wisdom did, it was atrociously dolorous.
  
  Someone screamed in pain.
  
  She needed several minutes to notice the voice of the victim was hers.
  
  It was...horrible.
  
  Pain would have been bad enough if it was someone stabbed her again and again, but the damage, somehow, was like talons and claws were ripping her mind apart.
  
  And then it stopped.
  
  When it did, the world felt...incredibly different.
  
  "You are getting sentimental, Athena," a voice Annabeth didn't recognise for several seconds, before acknowledging it as Zeus'. "Ordinarily, you wouldn't have wasted so much power for a lost cause."
  
  The God of Thunder's words hurt, even as the shame burned in her. Breath after breath, the blonde Demigoddess remembered what she had done and said during the Great Quest since...since the very beginning, but especially since Pasiphaë had cursed her.
  
  "My daughter is an important strategic asset, Zeus."
  
  A loud 'humph' resonated, as Annabeth felt her head hurt...and soon her stomach rebelled too.
  
  The carpet was soon struck by her vomit while colours which shouldn't exist danced everywhere. Urgh.
  
  "You will make sure your son behave while he stays at New Byzantium, brother."
  
  "Yes, I will. As long as you will stop trying to incinerate him, brother."
  
  Annabeth's eyes began to function correctly again. There were two blonde beings whispering like thieves...oh, they were Luke and his father. The God of Thieves sounded...very pleased by Luke's survival, and was joking her old friend had still much to do before he became the prestigious thief in the world...since the Suicide Squad hadn't emptied Hades' treasure vaults.
  
  "Hades, you better make sure your spawn is never involved in any sort of divine mischief again..."
  
  "I will make sure she doesn't, brother."
  
  There was an absolutely brilliant flash and several bolts of lightning slammed and caused more damage.
  
  Zeus was gone.
  
  "I will make sure my daughter doesn't attempt to usurp my throne again." Hades amended his words after the departure of the God of Thunder and Lightning.
  
  Annabeth heard the tourist-like Poseidon chuckle.
  
  "Are you sure those are words you want to say in front of many witnesses, brother?"
  
  "Are you going to rush to Olympus and repeat what I said?"
  
  Annabeth stood, and saw the God of the Dead and the God of the Seas stare at each other.
  
  The brothers of Zeus were in nonchalant stances, but around one danced shadows and more tenebrous things, while the murmur of the sea was eternally present around the other.
  
  These Gods were two juggernauts of incomparable power, restrained only by the Ancient Laws and the oaths they swore to Olympus...and now the latter was failing.
  
  "You see what I see," armoured gloves were placed on her shoulders, and when she tried to turn, grey and emotionless grey eyes. "The status quo is unsuitable."
  
  "Jackson helped the Immortal Sorceress kill Daedalus."
  
  "No, my son is not dead." Her mother corrected her. "My curse is still active. Minos' wife is many things, but she's not an architect or an automaton-builder. Unless she finds a very talented son of Hephaestus, she will have more uses for him."
  
  Athena made a sound which could have been a sigh or a manifestation of exasperation.
  
  "I know you are idolising Daedalus, and for good reasons, but don't let reality blind you: Daedalus has done very evil things in order to avoid dying and being brought to the Underworld. He has sacrificed countless Demigods to the hounds of my uncle, and his architectural and technological talents are equal to his treachery skills. My son never dared touching one of his half-brothers or half-sisters, but New Byzantium has lost many heroes in the past due in his quest of self-preservation and immortality."
  
  Annabeth wanted to shout she was wrong, and yet...logic told her Daedalus had built the Labyrinth. The same Labyrinth which was a Zone Mortalis and which in a subdued form, had conceived traps which would have killed them all if not for an insane son of Poseidon. And yes, her half-brother had lost control of the Labyrinth, but it had never been a pleasant place...
  
  "Yes, mother."
  
  "You have to control your Fatal Flaw, Annabeth. Sorcery is not a weapon the children of Athena are noted to use, but insulting sorceresses and Goddesses like you do is a road where tragic doom awaits. Learn to master your hubris. I was forced to do a lot of mental surgery to your mind in order to root out Pasiphaë this time; there won't be a second instance."
  
  "Oh, that's a pity, I wanted to see her attempt a ritual which would pit her against Arachne, for the Throne of the Spider Goddess!"
  
  Something different burned in Annabeth's heart, and it wasn't hubris.
  
  The daughter of Athena slowly walked towards her prey...and slapped him twice.
  
  To her disappointment, the boy knew how to not stumble, and endured the 'attack' stoically.
  
  "Father, the daughter of Athena is weird again...and I can't blame Hera for this one."
  
  Weird? Weird? She was going to strangle this insolent worm! She was going to-
  
  "I have a feeling your children are either going to kill each other, or we will have to organise nuptials in a few years, Athena, Poseidon..." Hades intervened mockingly.
  
  Nuptials...NO!
  
  "NEVER!" She shouted.
  
  "Please, even I have standards," the infuriating boy replied at the same time. "Unlike Hera."
  
  "It is good to know." Poseidon nodded while using his Trident to create a portal of pure water. "You will have to find three good bottles of rum before the next Christmas my son. My private reserve is something sacred no one, not even my wife is allowed to enter without my permission!"
  
  "But Asterius was involved too!"
  
  "Then stop corrupting that poor Minotaur, my son..."
  
  Hermes gave a pair of flying shoes to Luke, and then the God of Speed was gone.
  
  Poseidon's exist was more...spectacular. The Trident became a surfboard, and the God's clothes went from tourist-fisherman to 'professional Kings of the surfers' - yes, that was a thing, apparently.
  
  "See you next time," the God of Earthquakes and Oceans disappeared on the other side of the portal while of course adding 'water damage' to the list of indignities the throne room had suffered. "I will send someone to teach you some surfing moves!"
  
  "I will watch over you and your siblings more closely," her mother whispered to her ears, "the times ahead...they are going to be troubled. The Gods and the Demigods will need heroes like you if the Greek-Roman civilisation is to survive."
  
  Annabeth hadn't the time to reply they were a band of mismatched crazies and absolutely not heroes; the hoplite warrior had become a flight of owls, and with her gone, the only God left in the Throne Room was Hades.
  
  And the Lord of the Underworld was no longer on his throne, he had teleported behind them...so fast they hadn't even see him move at any point.
  
  Gods, Persephone was really that weak compared to her husband?
  
  "I thank you once again for risking your lives to free me," The God of Hell declared, as his 'royal tenebrous' appearance faltered and he began to become taller and...were they wings growing in his back? "I can only imagine the pressure my little brother applied to make sure there would be no Great Quest..."
  
  The God drew a sword bigger than any of them was tall...and the pink crocodile inside the iceberg was decapitated. The iceberg was severed like it had been made of butter.
  
  "I really dislike how he uses stupid Demigods as his catspaws," the God of the Dead announced as shadows devoured what had been the transformed son of Janus. "I wish you a safe return to New Byzantium."
  
  And the darkness swallowed them. Thus their last vision of Hell was the dead head of a frozen pink crocodile.
  
  2 June 2006, one of the Labyrinth entrances, somewhere in the woods of New York, United States of America
  
  When Dakota woke up, his first thought was to wonder if a truck had rammed him or not.
  
  Then the...very hedonistic memories arrived.
  
  "It's all Jackson's fault," he grumbled, rolling on his belly and trying to find some strength... "damn it, why is my back hurting so much?"
  
  "Oh, I don't know," the daughter of Aphrodite...Drew...giggled... "it may be because Furies have claws, and they're not afraid to use them in all circumstances."
  
  "And your father healed most of the damage before he dumped you a few minutes ago..." Jake Mason...wait wasn't he-
  
  "You're not a donkey anymore." Yeah, it wasn't the most intelligent thing to say, but he had the equivalent of a hammer striking his brain.
  
  "Thank you for reminding me." The son of Hephaestus said testily...and Dakota noticed the metal plates spread over the legs, the arms...and Sweet Nectar, was his back bronze and metal now? "While you were...how did your father call it? Going boldly where no Demigod had gone before..."
  
  Dakota felt himself blush and placed his head into his hands.
  
  "The Gods arrived and removed most of the curses," Annabeth intervened.
  
  "Oh..." the black-haired Roman Demigod blinked. "That's good...I guess."
  
  "Given how impossible the Quest was..." Luke sat on a rock nearby and gave him a 'are you all right' look. "Yes, it's very good. Hera was 'revealed' to be the mastermind, mainly because Perseus blamed everything on her, and thanks to the Lord of the Underworld's support, the punishment was minimal. Hecate and Nemesis visited before your return and told us we'd better stay at New Byzantium for the rest of the year, but at the end, we were very lucky to return here."
  
  "Err...yes. Where is the 'here', by the way?"
  
  "Oh, it's the clearing where Jackson led us to the Labyrinth's entrance," Jake Mason revealed to him. After drinking some cold water and feeling the headache decrease, Dakota was able to see the truth from his own eyes and not get ill or suffering from debilitating nausea.
  
  Thanks the Gods, Hades hadn't returned them into the Labyrinth...they were well outside of it.
  
  "We're missing a few-"
  
  "Asterius the Minotaur left a few minutes after we landed," Annabeth explained. "Our insane leader had a mission for him, and anyway I don't think anyone would welcome him at New Byzantium, divine protection or not. Many sentinels and patrol forces are already to be aghast we brought back a Hellhound..."
  
  A turn of his head to the left, and yes, the hirsute female hell-dog was here, running to catch the Frisbee-shield the son of Poseidon was throwing her.
  
  "Nightshade the Huntress left with Artemis. The Lord of the Underworld killed Scipio the pink crocodile," Luke completed. "And of course we got the children of Hades to escort to Byzantium..."
  
  "Wait a minute...the Gods were here, and they're still alive?"
  
  "Perseus made a mockery of the divine judicial system."
  
  "Hey! I blame Hera!"
  
  "She's imprisoned on...oh, forget it...so yes, Bianca and Nico are here, and we are ordered to escort them to New Byzantium, where some of us will make sure they cause no more trouble."
  
  Dakota had the temptation to place his head in his hands again. The Lightning Thief and Perseus Jackson in the same city...it sounded very much like the dawn of something absolutely chaotic and destructive. What was wrong with the Gods? Was their sense of humour that bad?
  
  "Well...at least we're still alive." For a group which had been - for excellent reasons - named the Suicide Squad, it was no small feat.
  
  "You forget, my drunken lieutenant, one part of the sentence..."
  
  "And what have we forgotten, oh sea-brain?" the daughter of Athena asked.
  
  "Glad to see you've returned to your normal and so-predictable insults, Angie," the son of Poseidon grinned. "And yes, you forgot something important. We're alive and rich. Revelation."
  
  Bags, chests, and a lot of objects which could be used as containers - and definitely were in that instance - began to materialise. Many were filled with gold, silver, precious stones, enchanted weapons.
  
  "That's...all the money we managed to earn?" He squeaked in surprise.
  
  "Don't be ridiculous...there's the payment of Atlantis for exceptional services rendered waiting for us at New Byzantium. And the Throne of the Underworld also promised there would be some gesture, beyond leaving us all alive and in good health."
  
  It was...likely more money than all the Questers had earned in the last decade. Only the members of the Suicide Squad were going to be involved into the sharing of the spoils...Scipio Varus was dead, Nightshade was gone, and the duo of Hades' children wasn't eligible for this...Gods and wine, they were rich!
  
  Ethan Nakamura cleared his throat.
  
  "Perseus Jackson...you have a lot of things to explain."
  
  "Perseus Jackson...you have a lot of things to explain."
  
  Perseus breathed out loudly...and yes, it was an exaggerated move.
  
  He had to give it to the Olympians, they could make some half-cunning moves when the situation warranted it.
  
  But they were up against a Tyrant of Helike.
  
  Did they really think an empty clearing was enough for him to feel secure and reveal his deepest and darkest secrets? If the answer was yes, he really pitied the Gods and Goddesses prostrating themselves before Zeus.
  
  "I'm sure you have, my not-so-treacherous lieutenant. But it can wait."
  
  "No, it can't," the Lightning Thief said before he released his Hellhound on her. The former Dread Empress Triumphant being a child of Hades, all Hell-born animals were naturally...very friendly towards them. And Zoë the Hellhound proved it by licking vigorously the face of the punished Demigoddess.
  
  "Yes, it can. Ah, I wish you could see the animals."
  
  In a fraction of a second, the members of the Suicide Squad saw the 'trap' prepared.
  
  There was an eagle, high in the sky. Without incredible good eyes, you had no chance seeing the predatory bird sent by Zeus.
  
  Under the trees, a doe was patiently waiting. If Artemis hadn't sent it, then Perseus was ready to proclaim himself King of America on the spot.
  
  Those weren't the only spies, just the most obvious ones. A few owls were hiding in holes carved inside various trees, and the effort had been done several weeks ago, revealing some cunning strategic mind behind the move.
  
  Other actions weren't sneaky at all. The leopard and the grape vine had nothing to do anywhere near New York City.
  
  "As you can see..." the act of 'Charmspeak' was mildly exhausting, but didn't require the sacrifice of one year of his life like it did on Calernia, and thus was a priceless weapon to wield against his enemies, "the Gods are listening to us right now. So yes, you will have answers to your questions. But it will be in my Barrack, where I'm certain only the God and the Goddess of the Sea will be able to spy upon us."
  
  "Wait a minute..." Luke Castellan reacted. "Our divine parents can watch us inside the Barracks?"
  
  "They blessed the foundations, the walls, and the altars inside, my heroic lieutenant," Perseus patiently explained, wondering how angry the Gods listening to him were as he revealed their nasty little secrets. "To keep the influence of the other Gods out, a God-"
  
  "Or a Goddess," the daughter of Annabeth mumbled.
  
  "Or a Goddess," the ex-Tyrant agreed, "they have to make the Barrack part of their holy sites where their influence reigns supreme. Otherwise foreign spying, curses, and other shenanigans would be merely extraordinarily difficult, not ridiculously impossible."
  
  "That makes sense...I think." Jake Mason, which was looking far less dashing now that he was no longer a donkey, commented.
  
  "I'm glad you agree." Perseus said sarcastically. "Now let's organise the transportation of the spoils of the Quest, heroes. The sooner it is over, the fastest we can begin to prepare for a triumph!"
  
  "Jackson," the son of Bacchus voiced a loud sigh. "Triumphs are the highest reward a Legion of New Constantinople can receive. It's for Roman Demigods or Legacies and other Demigods serving in the Roman military system. It isn't for Questers. And even if there wasn't that problem, the Senate of New Constantinople must vote in favour of granting a victorious General a triumph by a decisive majority. And...the Lord of Olympus has a right of veto."
  
  "Then it will be a party-which-is-absolutely-not-a-triumph," Perseus grinned. "And I will blame Hera for it."
  
  "Are you making a contest to see if it is possible that one day, the entire world wishes you to kill you, Jackson?"
  
  3 June 2006, New Byzantium, New York coastline, United States of New America (de jure)
  
  Jason Grace didn't like garrison duty above the Gates of Gods. And yes, it had everything to do with the 'splendid view' it gave of the pine tree where his sister slept for the rest of eternity.
  
  Unfortunately, the Gates of the Gods was the lynchpin of the western defences of New Constantinople, and Jason, son of Jupiter or not, was a mere Centurion of Legio Fulminata - and his current rank was definitely linked to his parentage, because otherwise he would definitely not have the minimum age to be promoted to it.
  
  There was, however, something more unpleasant to do garrison duty here. It was doing garrison duty with Octavian, legacy of Apollo, centurion of the First Cohort.
  
  For those who didn't know Octavian, he was a blonde lickspittle eager to curry favour to everyone who might give him more power, and then stab in the stab when they were of no more utility to him. Already several potential Decurions and Centurions who had been in his way for advancement had mysteriously declined honours and improved pay before demanding a transfer to a different Cohort.
  
  Jackson didn't know what was worse: that his current rank was in part based on nepotism, or that the Legate of the Legion had failed to notice how poisonous the atmosphere was among the First Cohort.
  
  If only Octavian could shut up...but no, the legacy of Apollo absolutely loved the sound of his own voice.
  
  "In my opinion, this is all the confirmation we need this misfit band of Greeks perished to the last. Now that there is no more alternative, of course Lord Jupiter is angry and preparing his aerial forces against his unfaithful brother!"
  
  The blonde-haired 'prophet' was so absorbed regaling his lackeys with his 'I-saw-it-coming tales' that he utterly failed in his garrison duty and didn't care there was a column of chariots advancing on the western road leading to the Gate of the Gods. And it was interesting, because there weren't waiting a Cohort or a group of Questers this morning...
  
  Jason sent a messenger to the Legate, and murmured a few discreet orders to his men. Octavian had yet to notice something was wrong.
  
  And then the trumpets sounded.
  
  Immediately hundreds of fireworks which had been somehow hidden from them rose in the air, and in a second the blue sky was shaken by pyrotechnic explosions which must have at some point been part of an Olympian's festive supply.
  
  Flocks of stone gargoyles descended onto the grounds before the Gates, making a discordant cacophony which could have woken up the dead.
  
  "CITIZENS OF NEW BYZANTIUM! GLORY TO THE HEROES OF OLYMPUS!"
  
  Jason gaped...was there anything to do?
  
  The son of Poseidon, Perseus Jackson, was returning to new Byzantium on a golden chariot, and in...what sort of orange toga was that, by Jupiter's Thunder?
  
  And you weren't supposed to paint your face violet...
  
  The laurels weren't supposed to glow gold like they did...it was the prerogative of the Gods!
  
  "NO!" Octavian had finally realised something was wrong, and if Jason's face had to show a lot of astonishment, his was a tapestry of unmitigated hatred and panic. "NO! THEY CAN'T HAVE SUCCEEDED! THIS WAS AN IMPOSSIBLE QUEST! IT'S AN IMPOSTURE!"
  
  "I think," warmth and light struck on the Gate before they noticed they had a divine visitor, "you are quite mistaken, my descendant."
  
  "Lord Apollo! They can't! They can't! A triumph is a Roman privilege! They can't do that!"
  
  "I think you will find the son of Poseidon has not a habit of asking us for permission...or for forgiveness." Apollo, golden, tanned, and smiling, laughed. "You shouldn't have bet so many Denarii on their 'certain demise', Octavian."
  
  The Sun God turned his head towards Jason.
  
  "Open the Gates, Centurion. Glory to the heroic Suicide Squad."
  
  "But..." Octavian whined. "What are...what are we going to do?"
  
  "We are going to party, of course." Apollo conjured a golden cup, and as he raised it, more fireworks exploded around them. "We got rid of Hera for a few years, surely that deserves a long and memorable celebration, no?"
  
  Author's note: Here ends the Lightning Thief Arc. The next chapter after that will be an interlude, so you can see some of the huge changes having Kairos-Percy in charge of the Great Quest has done to Olympus and the rest of the mythical Roman-Greek world at large.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Interlude Fallen Order
  Chapter 11
  
  Interlude
  
  Fallen Order
  
  2 June 2006, the Underworld
  
  If one wanted to be honest and fair - and the House of Hades always prided itself to be fair and merciless - a not-insignificant part of his realm had suffered massive devastation.
  
  This was regrettable.
  
  But as he exerted his formidable will, over ten millions of skeletons emerged from the pits, and shades were bound to the bones.
  
  The nice thing when you were Master of the Afterlife was undoubtedly the limitless manpower - or more accurately skeleton-power - available.
  
  Perseus Jackson had done more damage than any 'hero' who had tried to invade the Hells. That much was never in question. After Heracles, there had been no shortage of idiots who, centuries after centuries, millennia after millennia, believed they had a chance to 'free' their loved ones from the Fields of Punishment or whatever afterlife they believed in. Most of them were easily killed, but some of them had tried to blackmail him, in general by bringing dangerous ammunition like those madmen who had transported large casks of Greek fire and threatened to detonate it in the middle of one of his armouries.
  
  It never worked, obviously. Hades could repair everything given time; trespassers were, save under exceptional circumstances, to be killed as quickly as possible.
  
  But the 'Suicide Squad' - and by the Blood of Olympus, what a ridiculous name it was - definitely was falling into the category of exceptional circumstances.
  
  Despite the Demigods having departed for several days, the massive shockwaves were still engulfing his realm.
  
  It was an ambiance of ruin, Hades wouldn't deny it. But it was also an atmosphere of change and broken rules.
  
  Normally, any alteration he did to the different parts of the Underworld he ruled over was necessarily coming from the prayers of the mortals he was duty-bound to judge once they died.
  
  But for the first time in an eternity...it wasn't true anymore.
  
  It was going to take many days for him to assess how much liberty he had won, but his cautious investigations already told him the answer was likely 'more than in his wildest dreams'.
  
  "Free..." the brother of Poseidon and Zeus smiled, and repeated the word, "free of the past."
  
  And he telekinetically lifted an enormous blue brush to use on Cerberus' fur.
  
  His faithful servant barked loudly.
  
  Hades went on to provide a more energetic massage to the three-headed dog, and only when he was sure the devoted dog was fully satisfied did he turn towards his other servants waiting behind him.
  
  "Megaera," the Fury prostrated herself immediately. "I hope there won't be any...complications from your coupling with the son of Bacchus?"
  
  Truly his nephew was chaos incarnate to engineer something like that. Hades didn't remember being so surprised...and amused.
  
  "No, my Lord!" the blue-clad Erinye gave him a supplicating look, all the while her two sisters were laughing behind her. "I took...err...the appropriate precautions."
  
  "Good." Hades didn't know what the result of the union between a son of the God of Wine and a Fury conceived in Hell would look like. This was the kind of 'interesting' thing which was best avoided, like juggling with vials of Tartarus-harvested poisons. "Then your punishment will be simple: you will take care of Cerberus' desires for the next five hundred years. I want two baths per day, a lot of fruit-smelling shampoo, several intensive walks so that he can stretch its legs a bit, and of course large, delicious bones covered in meat that he can gnaw upon!"
  
  Megaera's pale skin managed the impressive feat of looking paler.
  
  Cerberus barked louder, proving dogs were truly the noblest companion of Gods and humans.
  
  The two other Furies laughed louder.
  
  They shouldn't have.
  
  "As for you two," the hilarity stopped abruptly, "you are going to be in charge of the new bureaucratic department which will coordinate the expert-accountants who will investigate the damage caused by the Suicide Squad. I expect long, detailed reports."
  
  "Murder?"
  
  Tisiphone's voice was so close to begging it was almost tearful to hear her like that...but Hades was a just God. No matter how obeying Persephone was instinctive after so millennia, it remained the wrong thing to do in the recent events. The Furies could have ruined everything...and so they were going to be punished.
  
  And he would make sure they understood for decades why they were...as well why he had chosen this punishment.
  
  For millennia he had been buried under his bureaucratic duties while everyone was content to leave him alone in this never-ending struggle, supposedly enforced by the 'Ancient Laws'.
  
  Well, no more.
  
  "My Lord," Alecto licked her lips, "can't we join our sister in petting Cerberus instead?"
  
  "No." The Lord of the Underworld was prompt to squash the tiny hope before it could bloom, before turning towards the other shade waiting by their side. "Hector."
  
  "Lord," the hero of the Trojan War saluted, clad in a modernised version of bronze-coloured armour.
  
  "It appears my estimates that no Demigod would ever try to invade the Underworld via the Labyrinth was a mistake." Thankfully it was a mistake which had played against his daughter and in his favour in the end. "I've taken great care to demolish all possible connections between Pasiphaë's realm and mine, but the Labyrinth Gate that Perseus Jackson and his Minotaur found can't be severed without catastrophic damage to both of our realms. And with Daedalus' creation controlled by an ascending Goddess' will, the danger exists a far more conventional invasion would come this way. This is an unacceptable security risk. You will take Vauban and the other siege-engineers, and order them to prepare for the construction of a fortress which will make crossing the Gate a suicidal course of action."
  
  "By your orders, Lord." The dead Trojan Prince saluted again. "Err...what is to be the fate of Achilles, Lord?"
  
  There was non-hidden curiosity in his question; as it should be: old rivalries were not forgotten by death, and especially not when someone dragged your corpse for most of a day before the eyes of your parents and siblings in a minable act of petty range.
  
  "Achilles has once more proven he can be trusted to succumb to the wiles of the first pretty woman he meets." Hades shrugged. "Therefore he is going to have to train for several centuries the lazy shades and the cowards of my realm...and I will make sure they are all men."
  
  Hector grinned...as expected.
  
  For someone who knew Achilles, it was indeed going to be a long and frustrating punishment.
  
  "Go. The sorceresses have little reason to invade the Underworld, but as long as there is no defence there, my realm is vulnerable."
  
  Hector saluted and departed, leaving Hades alone...well, there was Cerberus too.
  
  The petting was getting a bit too long to the giant three-headed dog, so the God of Wealth found a suitable alternative: a juicy bone of Drakon, his faithful guardian's favourite treat.
  
  About thirteen seconds later, he felt the familiar pressure of their arrival.
  
  He had not invited them, and many times this kind of arrogance had seriously irritated him.
  
  After all, what was the point of the Laws if the ones enforcing them were not bound by them?
  
  "You arrive too late." The older sibling of the three Gods placed his hand in the black fur of Cerberus.
  
  "The order will be restored," one of the three crones hissed. "You will-"
  
  "No."
  
  His word had not been screamed or uttered with any powerful outburst of emotion.
  
  Hades knew what the next words would be. Since he didn't want to comply, and the prophecies had escaped their grasp, they only had one 'tool' left to pressure him.
  
  "If you don't obey, we will make sure Persephone will never return to you."
  
  Too bad for them, it was a threat which left him unmoved.
  
  "I still love Persephone," the God ruling over the Dead and the Depths of the World admitted slowly.
  
  "In this case-"
  
  "But I am not blind to her flaws and her ill-conceived jealousy. She was perfectly unable to acknowledge it is possible to love several women at the same time, and that there is a different sort of love I feel for my children too."
  
  Hades watched the myriads of skeletons, digging and recovering the enormous broken pillars of what had been one of the greatest bridges of his realm.
  
  "But more than that, I am not Zeus, crones. I have changed. I believe that divine or not divine, a woman has her free will. If Persephone does not wish to be my wife, then she won't be my wife. We will divorce. I will continue to love her in my heart...but I won't let the future of the House of Hades be jeopardised by your threats."
  
  "If you defy us, your bastards will-"
  
  Hades turned and struck faster than lightning.
  
  The result was Clotho suddenly using most of her power to not have her throat crushed by his power.
  
  "You will not touch my children." The owner of the Helm of Darkness stated in a voice colder than a Siberian winter. "Or we will see firsthand if the Fates can truly be killed."
  
  "The Council will be informed of-"
  
  "Leave. Your sad excuse of order has fallen. Your era of supremacy is over...and I do not want you in my realm."
  
  2 June 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Apollo had never been happier to not have a wife, and by extension, to never have invested a single Drachma in one of the numerous divine businesses sponsored by the Queen of the Gods.
  
  Because at the moment they were waiting for the arrival of the Master of Olympus, Hermes was sending him regular flash news the market of marriages and long-term unions was crashing down. Universal Divine Weddings had gone bankrupt six minutes ago. Perfect Olympian Marriages had preceded it by twenty minutes. The only reason Queenly Honeymoons wasn't falling apart was due to the fact Aphrodite had bought it and incorporated it into her love portfolio.
  
  And no, Apollo had decided not to participate into the scramble of what had been Hera's financial empire.
  
  He was glorious and powerful, but recent events had proved he was already shirking some of his responsibilities. The oath-breaker had burned tremendously painfully for having the temerity of transforming his sacred cows into cheeseburgers, but the fact remained: between all his domains, he, the sunny and attractive God of Music, Poetry, and many other extraordinary disciplines...he couldn't be everywhere at once, and the 'advisors' many members of the Council had given him were absolutely useless.
  
  "I wonder who is going to replace her," Ares had taken his Mars appearance, as he was in an immaculate uniform of an Army General without a drop of blood on his hands. And he wasn't smoking one of his horrible cigars either. "My money is on Nemesis."
  
  If the God of War was troubled by the fact his mother had been arrested after being caught red-handed committing high treason against Olympus, there was no sign of it on his face.
  
  "Please," Dionysus scoffed, as Demeter materialised on her throne. "If the Goddess of Vengeance was given a throne here, we would begin the next war within forty-eight hours."
  
  "And it is not only an Olympian Throne which must be replaced," Aphrodite said seductively, dressed in a red robe which remained two steps away from being appropriate for a porn star. "It is the duties of the Queen of the Gods too."
  
  Apollo rolled his eyes.
  
  "Ah, yes. Those famous 'duties'. The ones which are making the lovely Eris, Goddess of Discord, so happy. Surely all the unmarried Goddesses are going to jump at the opportunity to be cuckolded by our Lord and Master."
  
  "Careful, Apollo," Demeter's essence flared, and the intent behind it was far from benevolent.
  
  "Oh? Are we going to pretend he is going to stop banging up the first starlet he is feeling attracted to?"
  
  "You have more one-night stands with young mortals than he do," the Goddess of Agriculture pointed out coldly.
  
  "Sure," the God of the Sun conceded. "But I am not married...and I am no way ready to ask someone in marriage."
  
  "And let us thank everything sacred for that," his twin sister murmured on the throne left to his. "I shudder to think what your 'ideal woman', someone able to handle all your perversions, would look like."
  
  "That hurts, little sister."
  
  "I am the older sibling, Apollo."
  
  "Yeah, yeah..."
  
  Fortunately, the last member of the Council chose this moment to arrive.
  
  Hermes switched off the dozens of high-definition screens broadcasting to them the ruin of Hera's ambitions, and Apollo clicked his fingers, the agreed combination to ensure the musical atmosphere was playing somewhere else.
  
  As a result, eleven pair of divine eyes fell on the Master of Olympus...just as the God of the Skies and Thunder desired, of course.
  
  His genitor had gone all out today to impress them. This was evident from the very beginning. There was no 'classical' business suit; instead the Master of Olympus was parading in his enormous glittering armour of Orichalcum, which as everyone divine knew, had the very appearance of gold but provided a millionth time the level of protection of the non-enchanted metal.
  
  The Master Bolt had been purified before having its appearance enhanced by myriads of gemstones and golden metals, and it was now protected by a spherical construct of thunder-based power and flashier defence mechanisms.
  
  Honestly, this was typical behaviour for Zeus.
  
  The only worrying thing was the curious combination of emotions appearing on his face. And when you spent a few millennia observing him, it wasn't hard to say there was something which had immensely pleased his genitor...as well something which had infuriating him.
  
  This was going to be the traditional good news/bad news Council, then.
  
  "He didn't kill them," Zeus declared without bothering with the usual pomp and fanfare. "My brother had the gall to send them to New Byzantium, and call it 'punishment'."
  
  There was no wondering whose God's children had just been mentioned.
  
  "It is a punishment," for that remark, Aphrodite received a glare of his genitor. "Bianca di Angelo had the ambition to become a Goddess. Living the normal life of a Demigoddess at New Byzantium will be a blow to her rather sizeable ego."
  
  "And she won't have a second chance," Hephaestus said, raising his eyes from whatever strange device he was busy tinkering with. "The Lord of Hell's willingness to remove all potential weaknesses against his domain is well-known. If the Rich One spared his children, it is because he is convinced they don't represent a threat to his throne anymore."
  
  "And if he is wrong?"
  
  Apollo raised an eyebrow.
  
  "Forgive me, father, but is the girl not supposed to stay at New Byzantium for the rest of her childhood years, unless we give her the authorisation to leave?"
  
  The King of the Gods nodded, albeit very reluctantly, and the charming God of the Sun smiled.
  
  "In that case, it's unlikely she can plot very effectively. We place a few spies close to her so that every move she makes is reported, and if she tries to leave New Byzantium, she is to be annihilated. The little usurper may have the Curse of Achilles, but it's not enough to protect her against an Olympian's wrath."
  
  "My little is brother is right...for once," Artemis intervened.
  
  "Hades should have allowed me to kill them."
  
  Artemis closed her mouth, and Athena, the ever-logical and reasonable Athena, didn't speak. It was certainly because the Goddess of Wisdom recognised a lost cause when she saw one. And when their genitor was convinced he was right, there was no changing his mind.
  
  "By her fault and this band of scoundrels we unleashed upon the Underworld, many wrongs have been committed. The soul of my son Minos is lost somewhere in a kraken's belly. Many agents who tried to follow the Questers succumbed to the madness of the Labyrinth. The great Daedalus' work was ruined and taken over by a sorceress unfit to be a Goddess!"
  
  The rant went on for several minutes. Apollo was very impressed by the sum of deeds the son of Poseidon had committed.
  
  "My wife has betrayed me."
  
  It was spoken relatively calmly...but the eyes were the colour of thunderous storms.
  
  Hera turning against him had hurt Zeus...and the fact the oaths which were supposed to prevent exactly that had been broken by the Master of Olympus for centuries first had been a blow to his pride.
  
  Apollo knew at that moment, that by the Maserati and Lamborghini he loved so much to drive, he wasn't going to like what followed.
  
  Sometimes, he really hated to be right.
  
  "She must be punished. I have consulted the Fates, and they agree. I am divorcing my betrayer, and dissolve the vows which tied us as equals. All the financials assets, treasures, palaces, and other possessions which belonged to her will be returned to my control."
  
  The God of Music and Poetry wished him good luck; with the scrambling having started right as the news of the Queen's arrest spread over the world, if the ex-husband wanted to seize a lot of things and not fight legal and illegal judiciary battles...well, one would have to be faster than the lightning. But maybe some parts of his divine essence were already at work on every continent?
  
  "I am not merciless. She will have the opportunity to regain her prerogatives, but not the title of Queen of Gods. My confidence in her is nonexistent, and the divorce procedure is final. The same is true where the marriage of my brother is concerned."
  
  Naturally, Demeter beamed and a lot of wines and cereals grew on the miniature lawn in front of her throne. In his humble opinion, the only issue where his aunt was as bad as her brother was when her daughter's marriage was debated. The two of them only knew how many mountains of bad idea had been agreed upon in the last hours...
  
  "Hera will have to pass through a series of trials," Zeus proclaimed, and Apollo let a cold mask fall upon his features, because there was only one punishment which had been described as such before, and it was him who had been on the receiving end of it. "And she will do it as a mortal."
  
  Artemis threw him a worried look.
  
  For once, he decided to ignore his twin.
  
  This...this was cruelty incarnate. The suffering...there was reason why most of the memories he had of this time were blocked away.
  
  It was cruel.
  
  No, it was more than that...it was counterproductive. How Hera had behaved in Hades' home...she truly loathed Zeus.
  
  Inflicting upon her trials was going to be seen as more insults when Zeus was free to spit upon more oaths, sworn on the Styx or not.
  
  But Apollo didn't dare protest...not when half of the Council sounded extremely pleased Zeus was punishing his wife like this.
  
  Idiots. Didn't they realise that tomorrow, they could be the next to be deprived of their divinity?
  
  More importantly...with usurpers at large, what would happen to a God if one of the usurpers claimed the empty throne when the God or the Goddess was mortal?
  
  "This Council is adjourned."
  
  About half of the Council immediately disappeared when the word 'adjourned' was uttered, Poseidon first, but Aphrodite and Hermes were not far behind.
  
  Apollo was about to imitate them when Persephone entered the great chamber where the Olympians formally ruled over the world - minus the Underworld, of course.
  
  Even if Apollo did not love women, he would have recognised the Goddess of Spring as a peerless jewel of the divine. Her hair was a light blonde reminding him of summer wheat, and everything from her deep blue eyes to her feet, including her breasts, her hips, and the other parts of her marvellous body were both innocence and temptation. The tight green dress she wore, the very colour of spring grass, was making her more irresistible than she was.
  
  Persephone was a springtime beauty to die for.
  
  Apollo opened his mouth...and closed immediately as his senses of God informed him there was another odour the daughter of Demeter was shrouded into. She smelled like sex.
  
  And when the former wife of Hades bent the knee in front of her father, the seductive smile she gave him...well, it was not the kind of look fathers should give to their daughters.
  
  Suddenly, why the King of the Gods had been so late for a Council he had asked for was far more understandable...
  
  Apollo closed his eyes, and raced away from Olympus. He really needed to get away from here for several days.
  
  3 June 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America
  
  It had been hours since sunset.
  
  It didn't stop the gigantic party which was 'totally-not-a-triumph for the Questers' to continue.
  
  In the last hour, in fact, the fireworks had not merely 'continued'. They were more and more of them exploding in the skies above the bay of New Byzantium.
  
  Two-thirds of the Hephaestus Barracks' ammunition stockpiled for the war must have gone into these celebrations...or so Hermes was ready to guess.
  
  He wasn't an artificer or a weapon-maker, when it came down to it.
  
  One only thing could be said: it would be a party to remember. The Roman side of the camp had been at first far from happy that the war they had spent the last months preparing was cancelled, but the atmosphere of good food, abundant drinks, chariot races, physical contests, and so on...it was contagious, especially when the God overseeing everything was Dionysus himself.
  
  As the God of Thieves and Trade, Hermes could have easily walked amongst the Demigods and the Legacies. His sons and daughters had erected an improvised casino where they tried to fleece a maximum of 'customers', and plenty of artefacts and rare items changed hands in the markets of Byzantium-Constantinople in the middle of the not-triumph.
  
  He could have, but he didn't.
  
  This was the day of the Questers...or rather, the night.
  
  It had been considered poor manners to try to steal the light out of someone's achievements, especially if the person in question tried to oppose the Quest's success.
  
  Hermes was enough to admit that while he hadn't hired assassins or done his best to make sure the group where his son went failed...yes, he hadn't done anything either to protect them when Zeus did his best to stab them in the back.
  
  No, this was the victory of the Demigods and Demigoddesses of the now infamous 'Suicide Squad'. He would let them enjoy it...the ruins of the Parthenon knew they would need all the positive emotions of a day like this to find the strength to survive in the coming years.
  
  Perseus Jackson had found a loophole which gave him a year and some days where the Master of Olympus couldn't touch him.
  
  But Hermes knew the Lord of the Skies and Thunder. This was merely delaying Zeus' wrath. And-
  
  Suddenly the God of Messengers found himself with one cup of wine in each of his hands, and no idea how they had gotten there.
  
  "You are far too morose tonight, Hermes," Dionysus told him. "Drink! This isn't every day a Great Quest is completed!"
  
  Hermes drank of the first cup. The liquid managed the feat of being sweet and powerful at the same time, and it gave some soothing influence to his divine essence, something surprising given that he was sure the wine had no Nectar diluted in it.
  
  "To be sure," the God of Merchants agreed after a few seconds of silence, only troubled by an enormous blue firework exploding in a thousand green explosions. "I was more worried about the future...the Master Bolt has been returned, but the prophecies are still inactive."
  
  He didn't mention his fears about the twelfth throne. Most of the currently Olympian Councillors had their favourites to replace Hera, and to say there was a majority forming for a single name would a massive lie.
  
  "Bah, you worry too much."
  
  "You don't think the presence of Perseus Jackson and Bianca di Angelo is going to lead to war sooner or later?"
  
  "Oh no," the God of Wine threw grapes to his favourite leopard. Impressively, despite the 'throws' being completely random, the feline caught them all in mid-air. "We are definitely going to have a civil war. And it will be sooner, not later."
  
  Hermes blinked...and then grimaced. The God of Madness had a point, damn him.
  
  "And how is it 'worrying too much', pray tell, Dionysus?"
  
  "You worry too much, because there's nothing you can do to stop it anymore." A barrel appeared, and several dozens of glasses, cups, and diverse containers were filled with about ten different brands of alcohol, ranging from Russian vodka to American beer. "Olympus unleashed the son of Poseidon, and now it is time to reap the hurricane. If the Council had kept him at camp and treated him like a prisoner in his father's barrack...maybe you could have stopped him from wrecking everything. But now it is too late. The Labyrinth and the Underworld are now in the throes of brilliant, changing madness."
  
  Hermes believed him. Prophecy or no prophecy, Dionysus was the Olympian whose power was the most chaotic of the twelve...okay, eleven...and if truly the effects were that far-ranging, then all hope to restore the situation to what it was before the theft of the Symbols of Power and the capture of Hades was gone.
  
  And Hermes had noticed the God of Wine hadn't supported the decisions of the Council, either when it came to a vote, or in the last sentences.
  
  "There must be something we can do...if nothing else, to make sure the new generation won't become a disaster beyond our imagination."
  
  "Your imagination," Dionysus mused, before chuckling loudly. "But no. There is nothing we can do anymore. The dam has broken, the usurpations have succeeded or failed. And since it all began with the son of Poseidon and the daughter of Hades, it will likely end with them..."
  
  "What a charming perspective," Hermes acidly commented before staring at the empty cups in his hands. "I am not drunk enough for this age."
  
  "Brother," Dionysus purred, "that's something I can easily remedy to!"
  
  4 June 2006, Hades' Barrack, New Byzantium
  
  Bianca di Angelo stared at the object in incomprehension.
  
  "This is a broom."
  
  "Dread Empress, your analysis skills are truly incomparable on this world."
  
  Her treacherous little brother giggled, and the daughter of Hades glared at him. Unfortunately, it didn't prevent him from sticking his tongue out and smirking.
  
  "And what I am supposed to do with this?"
  
  "Well," the son of Poseidon smiled innocently, which was...a disaster at pretending he was innocent, all right. "The very purpose of a broom is to sweep up dust and a lot of things you don't want in your new home. Since the Barrack built by the Lord of the Underworld has been empty since the end of the 1940s, I thought this might be useful for your new duties."
  
  Bianca turned her head for two seconds in the direction of the tall black palace waiting at the end of an alley which...definitely a lot of gardening effort and a lot of renovations. The 'Barrack' itself was still a majestic presence which had endured the ravages of time without a scratch, as befitted a building serving as a sort of Demigod embassy, but the rest of the land around it was in a state of abandonment.
  
  "I don't need a broom. Surely there are servants for that kind of thing. I saw gargoyles and nymphs working upon yours."
  
  "That's an excellent point," Perseus Jackson complimented her before bowing in what could only be a sarcastic manner of discourtesy. "Alas, I am the sole master of the gargoyles. That has to do with enchanting them myself, I believe. As for the nymphs, yes, they are helping Demigods and Demigoddesses of the New Byzantium enclave...for a fee."
  
  Bianca gritted her teeth. While the fallout of her actions had left her far from ruined, most of the secret accounts the former Dread Empress had prepared in case she was forced to flee the Underworld were not easily accessible from New Byzantium. She would have to go to New York City to access them...or more likely, send a trusted messenger to act in her stead, since leaving the boundaries was tantamount to ask for a murderous lightning bolt in her face.
  
  Normally, even that obstacle shouldn't be a problem. As a child of Hades, Bianca could travel through shadows, and given her knowledge of spells, cleaning a Barrack could be done magically with her eyes closed.
  
  Except the armbands Hades had placed upon her were making it impossible for her to wield magic.
  
  "And don't you think...what are you doing?"
  
  The black-haired boy had just unfurled a large picnic wooden table...somehow.
  
  All the while a couple of gargoyles destroyed the ugly small trees and the bad grass which had the temerity to be around, so that this part of the land which was supposed to be both refuge and prison was cleared...at least compared to the rest of the grounds.
  
  "I thought that was evident," the green eyes shone with mischievousness, "I am going to obey your father's orders. I am going to play Mythomagic cards with your brother while you restore this Barrack and everything around it to a standard the House of Hades can be proud of."
  
  "You're the best, Percy!"
  
  "I know, I know," Bianca glared, but her young brother ignored her. "Prepare to be humiliated, though. I've beaten all the duellists of the Millennium Tournament in the Underworld."
  
  "Ah, but you have never duelled an opponent like me!" The grin the son of Poseidon showed was predatory in the extreme. "And I have acquired a few Titan-themed cards I am going to love experimenting on this glorious day."
  
  "It's time to duel!" Nico exclaimed.
  
  "I am not going to work alone on this...this monumental chore by myself today!" Bianca declared angrily.
  
  "I am afraid you don't have a choice, your Most Dreadful Majesty," Perseus Jackson drew out a card from one of his pockets and showed it to Nico. "Circe, one of the Three Immortal Sorceresses."
  
  "She has only five hundred points of attack," her little brother said dubitatively.
  
  "But she can transform one of your monsters into a guinea pig with zero points of attack and defence," his opponent bared his teeth like a shark about to have his first lunch of the day. "Still feeling confident of your victory, oh dark duellist of Hell?"
  
  "I have five first editions of the legendary dark spells of Asphodel!"
  
  "Not bad," conceded the son of Poseidon. "You might be more challenging than-"
  
  "Jackson," Bianca hissed, "You are going to help me find a solution so that I don't spend today doing this chore-"
  
  "Only today? My dear, you're an optimistic at heart. Given how large the avenue is, it will be a miracle if you reach the Barrack today...but don't let it discourage you! I have brought temporary tents!"
  
  "I am not going to do the work of peasants!"
  
  "Peasants have their use..." the Demigod who had been a Tyrant Named in another life clicked his tongue. "Mainly as ritual-fodder, but still. Oh, and to accompany the broom, there's I believe a rake, a shovel, and pliers amongst all other things."
  
  This couldn't be happening. She had been mere steps from ascending and becoming a Goddess.
  
  And now she was...supposed to use vulgar tools to make a place habitable?
  
  She was Triumphant, she was-
  
  A gargoyle sent an apple her way, and it took a lifetime of reflexes to avoid it before it hit her in the head.
  
  "I hate you," the daughter of Hades hissed, before reluctantly walking towards the...messy pile of gardening tools the gargoyles had thrown together.
  
  Her brother and the infuriating spawn of the seas ignored her, as they each praised the merits of their favourite cards.
  
  Bianca swore her vengeance was going to be long, painful, audacious, and above all, a marvel of evil ingenuity. As she approached the shovels and many objects she had done her best to stay away for two lives, the Lightning Thief felt new presences at the edge of her vision.
  
  Three seconds later, there were over a dozen young girls donned in hunting attire lined up before the boundary separating their Barrack from the rest of the New Byzantium.
  
  "We are watching you, traitor." Bianca frowned. This was not the girl who had accompanied the 'Suicide Squad' in the depths of the Underworld, but the accent was very similar. Ah. Those were the Huntresses of Artemis...or at least some of them. If the rumours were true, the Goddess of the Hunt had a massive army out there. Giving a lesser form of immortality and eternal youth resulted in the numbers increasing considerably century after century. How...perfectly hypocritical.
  
  "Calm yourself, oh lieutenant of the evil lesbian cult!" This time, the arrival of the Hunt definitely caught Jackson's attention.
  
  It was like pouring oil and a lot of incendiary ammunition on the flames.
  
  "WE ARE NOT A LESBIAN CULT!"
  
  "I note you aren't denying the 'evil' part...and if you're not lesbian, what are you doing during those long and cold winter nights?"
  
  "DIE, VILE MAN!"
  
  Predictably, the arrow shot by the silver bow was stopped by the Barrack's protections, and the Huntress was ejected over twenty metres behind her former location like a doll in the middle of a tornado.
  
  "Phoebe!" another Huntress gasped before throwing her a murderous expression. "If you think-"
  
  "Silence," Bianca hissed, and the girl sworn to the Goddess of the Hunt swallowed the rest of her words.
  
  A second later Bianca felt her eyes widen...and then a grin lit her face.
  
  She couldn't do magic. Her money was out of her reach.
  
  But the Gods hadn't taken her away her ability to Speak.
  
  And a large number of unbearable girls had just volunteered to be her test subjects.
  
  "Step forwards," the daughter of Hades ordered. Two of Artemis' servants tried to resist for more than a second, but her will overwhelmed them in less than three heartbeats after that. "Congratulations. I am in dire need of workers, and you have just volunteered."
  
  "Lady Artemis will-"
  
  "Do not speak without my permission!" Honestly, why did everyone think he or she had the possibility of refusing to obey her? "I am your new commander. You are going to obey my orders...and you not inform Olympus of this, or I will make sure you will shiver in fear for the rest of your immortal life!"
  
  Behind her, the familiar sound of applause was heard.
  
  "Congratulations," the mad boy snickered. "You finally noticed the loophole. Now put them to work, your Most Dreadful Majesty. The Tower was not built in a day...or by us, fortunately."
  
  What did she do lately to deserve this cruel punishment?
  
  4 June 2006, somewhere in the depths of the Labyrinth
  
  Godhood suited her sister.
  
  Pasiphaë had chosen to welcome her in a simple but perfectly tailored white robe, with exquisite golden jewellery to increase her already divine beauty.
  
  "Your ascension has immensely benefitted you." The daughter of Helios began.
  
  "Thank you, sister." The former Queen of Crete smiled largely. "It was easier than I thought."
  
  Circe raised an eyebrow.
  
  "The rumours of a band of Demigods storming your fortress and then going away after being suitably bribed had some truths in it?"
  
  "The rumour had a lot of truth in it, yes," the new Goddess of the Labyrinth confirmed while making them travel at an incredible speed before stopping at an entrance of a eighteenth century-decorated salon. "Even without prophecies, it appears the Fates tried to engineer a plot where I would die or my schemes would fail at the last possible moment. Unfortunately for them, they didn't take into account the lack of loyalty most of the Questers felt for Olympus."
  
  "Let thank the Olympians for their inexistent foresight, then," it had always been impressive how badly the deities of all pantheons treated their children, and then expected them to save the day when they had screwed up by the numbers. "How is it to have the Labyrinth under your control?"
  
  "Fantastic," Pasiphaë hummed before showing her an expression of bliss she wouldn't have revealed to more than five other beings in history. "I can see everything. Every corridor, trap, mechanism is mine to mould as I wish. It is mine to command, mine to alter or keep orderly...and with every heartbeat, the Labyrinth expands. And with it, I gain strength."
  
  "Even with the Lord of the Underworld freed?"
  
  "I am unable to go past a certain depth anymore," her half-sister admitted. "The Labyrinth Gate that his liberators used is still there, but it is heavily fortified as we speak. The Rich One is doing his best to deny me expansion in his direction; that much I won't deny. But what I have taken while he was indisposed is mine, and this is far enough for my ambitions."
  
  The next emotion on Pasiphaë's face was more neutral.
  
  "Unfortunately, Hera has utterly failed in provoking the civil war we anticipated. Olympus is aware of what I did, and Zeus is in position to plan for countermoves."
  
  "Neither the Master of Olympus nor his sons and daughters can touch you as long as you stay in your domain and master your powers, sister."
  
  And since Zeus wasn't the one who had offered Pasiphaë her immortality, he couldn't exactly strip her of her powers without dragging back her to Olympus and using arcane rituals which would likely take years...and this assumed he had a better claimant to the Labyrinth, something which stretched credibility. Daedalus wasn't around anymore, and the architects of his level were not exactly crowding the divine seats of power.
  
  "But there are artefacts which can return a Goddess to the state of existence she enjoyed before her ascension."
  
  Circe tried to think about the unique artefacts and heirlooms which allowed this kind of near-miraculous event. It wasn't a long list. And the closest from her home was-
  
  "The Golden Fleece. Are you certain?"
  
  "My spies are excellent," the Goddess of the Labyrinth smirked, "or it is the Olympian counterintelligence which is incredibly bad, I guess. But yes, I am certain the great and mighty 'Master of Olympus' is contemplating sending Demigods after the Golden Fleece. And I must say, it isn't exactly idiotic from his perspective."
  
  "It is incredibly risky," the Immortal Sorceress commented in amusement. If she was a mortal girl, Circe would definitely not enjoy the odds stacked against her. "The path to it has devoured thousands of Demigods this century alone."
  
  "Yes. But think about it from the God of Lightning and Infidelity's perspective."
  
  "I suppose..." Circe rolled her eyes, before wincing. "Ah, yes, I see your point. The Golden Fleece could, in theory, return the daughter he turned into a pine tree. But he has other sons and daughters. The older is a son he sired as Jupiter, isn't he?"
  
  "He is. But he won't reach sixteen before the son of Poseidon and the daughter of Hades."
  
  "His obsession for prophecies is remarkable and will kill him sooner or later."
  
  "Absolutely."
  
  Circe calculated many possible scenarios in her head. In many things, it was like creating a new spell. You had to anticipate your enemies' intentions...and then strike hard and ruthlessly.
  
  "You want Medea and myself to continue cooperating with the Triumvirate."
  
  It hadn't been the disaster she had thought it would be, mainly because the 'God-Emperors' were wise enough to only send their 'God-Empresses' to her island. Still, Circe had not been so happy to extend the duration of their 'alliance'.
  
  "Our interests align with them in this regard."
  
  For the first time of this reunion with her sister, Circe was surprised.
  
  "How so? So far, the six of them have each made a claim to an Olympian's throne, and I will grant you they aren't a hindrance to our own ambitions. Yet they are very, very far from being able to successfully usurp a God or a Goddess, despite all the help Medea has given them. And...I certainly don't need their help to sink the ships Olympus will send to do their dirty work."
  
  "Oh, I know you won't." Pasiphaë gave her a smile of reassurance. "But you misunderstand my goal when it comes to countering the Olympians' plan."
  
  "I thought it was to defeat the adventurers, be they Questers or Legionnaires, who would be sent to recover the Golden Fleece."
  
  "It is...with an amendment. I don't want this expedition defeated, sister. I want it obliterated. I want it crushed so decisively that it will be obviously to the imbeciles of Olympus their precious sons and daughters had no chance of success."
  
  "Well, I can certainly do that...and with the Triumvirate support, we certainly have the assets in the theatre to achieve the result you want." Circe shrugged. "But I will warn you it is unlikely to discourage the Olympians, especially if you have correctly assessed how much the Golden Fleece means for the King of the Gods. A second expedition will be sent as soon as it is obvious the first one failed. Maybe a third."
  
  If the stakes were sufficient, Zeus and his sons were all too ready to escalate and lose some Demigods.
  
  "Yes. But if the first defeat is total, they will turn to a force which has proven it can accomplish the impossible. One they won't send first, for they can't rely upon their loyalty."
  
  Circe immediately understood who her sister was referring to.
  
  "It is a very risky move. I have watched the videos of Caligula's chariot races. The self-proclaimed Neo Helios could have easily been killed. I don't believe for a second Perseus Jackson hadn't a plan to kill the two members of the Triumvirate who were present if he had no alternative. The same is true when it came for your ascension, sister."
  
  "It represents danger. But...the world is changing, sister. And we can't afford playing the game like wanted to. The chaos is spreading, and if you are denied your chances of being elevated, I fear the opportunity will never come again."
  
  The Immortal Sorceress grimaced internally. Pasiphaë made a very good point...and if anything she was understating how tumultuous the years to come would be.
  
  "Give me the details of your new plan, sister."
  
  5 June 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium
  
  Ethan didn't know what the fortified room inside the Poseidon's Barrack had been used for before Perseus' arrival, but what was certain was that it was now a very respectable vault where bipedal miniature dragons and the now-familiar gargoyles were dividing the spoils of the Great Quest into twelve shares.
  
  Why twelve? Well, apparently they owed the Lightning Thief for her help in defeating Persephone, and making the existence of the Quest possible in the first place. Thus the children of Hades would receive one share.
  
  By the son of Poseidon's tortuous logic, it somehow made sense.
  
  "Of course, it is going to take a few days to make sure everyone has the correct sum he or she deserves," their leader grinned. "And if lesser Gods continue to send us bag of Drachmas, it might take a bit longer."
  
  "Why are they gifting us so many things?" Luke asked, examining a series of silvery rings which had been sent by Eris, Goddess of Discord. "Not that I'm objecting, you know, but we had no contract with most of them."
  
  "I'm sure some of them are rewarding us for pissing off Zeus," Perseus plunged his hands into a little mountain of gold and bronze coins with a satisfied expression on his face. "I think one in three deities which are now eager supporters of our cause are raising toasts with our names on their lips because the Master of Olympus don't like us, but has no choice tolerating our presence now that we have completed his Great Quest. We receive bonus points because we revealed his monstrous hypocrisy while surviving the trials of the Labyrinth and the Underworld."
  
  "Only one in three?" Annabeth raised her eyebrows in mild disbelief.
  
  "Oh yes," Perseus clapped his hands with a maniacal grin, "the rest are rewarding us because we were involved in Hera's fall."
  
  "She was that unpopular?" Miranda asked. "I mean, she wasn't my favourite Olympian, but it's truly the same on Olympus?"
  
  "My dear daughter of Demeter," the green-eyed son of the Earthshaker began in an ironic tone. "I'm rather sure you have seen how many Demigods and Demigoddesses are here."
  
  "It's rather difficult to miss the Questers and the Legionnaires," the girl who had now her hands and arms covered in bronze metal replied rolling her eyes.
  
  "Then tell me, what are we?"
  
  "Err...Demigods? Demigoddesses?"
  
  "No," Perseus said in a tone formidably sarcastic. "We are bastards. While the God of the Sun and the Goddess of Vengeance are two examples of Gods who aren't married, siring a child with a mortal woman or man is generally acknowledged as a birth out of wedlock. How do you think all the carnal adventures of our respective parents were considered by the Goddess of Marriage?"
  
  Ethan grimaced...in fact, pretty much everyone grimaced.
  
  The question was very rhetorical. Hera must have made the lives of the Gods and Goddesses hell...when she wasn't sending monsters to kill the Demigods and the Demigoddesses, that was.
  
  "Thank the Gods this bitch isn't our problem anymore." Clarisse said bluntly, before staring in Jackson's eyes with a bit less certainty in her body. "She isn't, right?"
  
  "For all I know, the ex-Queen is punished by her royal husband as we speak." Perseus Jackson shrugged. "Since there is nothing to restrain a deity of her power anywhere near New Byzantium, I don't think they will send her to us. What would be the point?"
  
  The son of Nemesis had to agree with the son of Poseidon on that point. There were Gods frequently visiting New Byzantium - or the Legionnaire side, New Constantinople - and it was obvious to all that there was nothing preventing a deity from fleeing the boundaries of the city if he or she so desired. What could Demigods do? As Persephone had proved, without a symbol of power of the Big Three, the 'heroes' of a Great Quest were going to be incinerated within a second, no matter how weak the God or the Goddess they fought.
  
  "That's all interesting stuff," the son of Hermes said, "but now I believe we are owed some explanations!"
  
  "Of course!" Perseus beamed with a frightening grin. "In a country a lifetime ago, lived a beautiful prince. His hair was so perfect it was often compared to gold. His eyes were those of a falcon, and seduced countless damsels in distress. The Prince was perfect in everything he devoted his attention to. He was gifted in no less than five languages. He was an avid student of history, mathematics, music, and trade. Though he was talented with the spear and the sword, this paragon of perfection managed to seduce many diplomats and ambassadors, for he talked of peace, while the previous Kings had been warmongers. The little people adored him, and they loved seeing him parading in the villages and the hamlets, as he returned from one hunt or another. Werewolves and all sort of monsters were unable to scratch his armour, and the days of war and disorder faded from memory. The Prince grew into adulthood, and a new age of justice and self-righteous goodness was upon the Free City of Helike."
  
  The son of Poseidon threw a Drachma in the air, and when he caught him, the face which was presented to them bore a sword.
  
  "And what happened to this...paragon of knighthood once he ascended to the throne?" Miranda asked as she struggled not to giggle after the lyrical proclamation of Perseus.
  
  "I don't know," the mad boy grinned, "His evil uncle usurped the throne before he could reign. The Prince became the Exiled Prince of the stories, and though he managed to rally some supporters around his banner, he was in need of funds. He went to a northern realm ruled by hero-killers and a crossbow went through his throat, bringing an end to his story of trying to reconquer the realm he had lost."
  
  Ethan, unfortunately, had an idea where it was going. So did Bianca di Angelo, apparently.
  
  "I suppose," the Lightning Thief said in a bored voice, "that you were the evil uncle?"
  
  "Guilty as charged." The madman grinned.
  
  5 June 2006, the Tartarus Temple, edge of the Pit of Tartarus, the Underworld (de jure)
  
  With the reconstruction of the damaged parts of his realm underway - along with the modifications of several others, he had the funds to spare - Hades had several hours of free time while tens of millions of his subjects worked upon his grand projects.
  
  Knowing the matter could not be delayed any longer, the Greek-Roman God of the Afterlife closed his eyes and travelled to a location he had grown to thoroughly despise.
  
  In a fraction of a second, he was walking through the ruins of the Tartarus Temple.
  
  Yes, his daughter had tried her best to restore it. Alas, Hera had refused to go down without a fight, and the collateral damage had been...significant.
  
  It was a pity. The new temple had seemed really impressive.
  
  But Hades couldn't say he was surprised.
  
  Five times in the long history of the Underworld, a temple had been raised here. Every time someone had done so - and only in one of those five instances it had been him hiring the architects and the workers - the temple was destroyed within days of the inauguration.
  
  Millennia ago, he had thought it was the Fates playing their games...but given how the recent events unfolded...unpleasant assumptions could be made.
  
  Now he wondered which of the Primordials had been manipulating the strings behind the scene.
  
  The Lord of Hell murmured an incantation in Ancient Greek, and one by one broken columns and ruined magical traps were disintegrated, reduced to dust, and then thrown banished across the Underworld.
  
  It was improbable the ritual site would be used against him ever again, but Hades had not survived millennia by trusting his luck...unlike his younger brothers and sisters.
  
  His powers were not the fastest where it came to destruction, but he was very thorough. Soon there was nothing but bare rock...and the sarcophagus.
  
  The damned sarcophagus.
  
  Hades knew his daughter was a reincarnated soul and had received the help of many people to gain access to the resources she needed, but despite everything, the Master of the Underworld still had difficulties believing a Demigoddess, even a child of his, could gather a sufficient quantity of Orichalcum.
  
  It was the most strategic enchanted metal to exist, and his brothers and himself had gone to extreme lengths to make sure no enemy of Olympus would have the knowledge, the power, and the connections to have more than a few grams of it.
  
  And then there was the Sarcophagus itself. To forge Orichalcum in so little time was absolutely unprecedented. There was no known manual, and the larger the quantity of Orichalcum, the larger the risks to be severely injured...and this was generally something which applied to Gods. The risk to mortals...
  
  Hades grimaced. In a way, he was proud of his daughter. All his children were gifted in many fields; it could be academically, magically, or some other way. But Bianca was in a class of her own.
  
  And as he stopped near the sarcophagus and a ghostly pain echoed in arms, the pride didn't decrease.
  
  But with these feelings also came sorrow.
  
  "Where did it go so wrong, Maria?"
  
  But his dead lover didn't answer. She had chosen to go back to the world of living decades ago. For all the respect and the tenderness he gave the women he loved, the legendary jealously of Persephone was too much for the overwhelming majority.
  
  And when even the Elysian Fields weren't a refuge from the mockeries and the whispers...there weren't many other options left.
  
  Hades sighed. Aeons lost playing the same game over and over, and in the end nothing had changed, because the Fates and his own bitterness made sure nothing changed.
  
  Until a few days ago.
  
  The dark-haired God conjured the fires which came with his realm, and a pyre was lit.
  
  It was an indirect attack, of course. Given what the purpose of the Sarcophagus had been, Hades was not stupidly going to injure himself more than he already had been.
  
  It was not fast. But slow and steady were going to be sufficient, and he was in no hurry.
  
  Several hours later, the Sarcophagus had been transformed into a series of Orichalcum bullion, to which could be added a lot of rare metals and gemstones.
  
  It was then he noticed her. Or rather, it was then she allowed him to notice her presence.
  
  For all that he was Master of the Underworld, Hades was under no delusion who was the most powerful deity when she was compared to him.
  
  "Lady Nyx," he bowed respectfully.
  
  The Primordial Goddess of the Night had come in a sumptuous dress which changed in shades so dark it was difficult even for him to perceive if they were dark blue, dark violet, or simply black. The jewels she wore were amethysts, and they provide some illumination, just as her hair was the very colour of night itself. Moon ornaments shone in gold and one of her arms was armoured in Orichalcum. She was regal.
  
  It was a good thing, because it meant she was in a very good mood today.
  
  Hades had enough experience with her in a bad mood to swear on the Styx that no one, not even the most insane deities, wanted to deal with an angry Nyx.
  
  "Marrying the Goddess of Spring was your biggest mistake, Hades. I am pleased to see you have at last decided to correct it."
  
  "I still love her."
  
  Nyx laughed.
  
  "It is your Fatal Flaw to trust the members of your family that you admire the most, child." The Primordial deity enounced like it was evidence itself. And maybe it was. "A pity they are so unworthy of your loyalty."
  
  "Our marriage lasted millennia."
  
  "Yes. But if she had been truly the Queen you wanted her to be, abandoning her title would not have been possible."
  
  "Demeter enforced the six months in the world above really-"
  
  "Hades." Nyx chided him. "Persephone could have challenged her mother. And her power as the Spring Goddess should have failed after centuries of sharing your bed. If she really wanted to embrace the role of the Underworld Queen, Persephone had to let her former domain go. It wasn't like there was a shortage of candidates to take her place."
  
  Unfortunately, Nyx was right. And it wasn't like his thoughts hadn't danced around this forbidden idea several times in the last days.
  
  "What do you want, Lady Nyx?" And he hoped his voice wasn't betraying too much the regret of his errors.
  
  "I want to see what will emerge of the devastation you Olympians called a peace." The appearance of the pale-skinned, night-haired woman began to fade, and Night engulfed everything. "Do not disappoint me, child."
  
  5 June 2006, a section of the Labyrinth under Bangkok
  
  Neo Helios had never had many doubts that his Caesarea and himself had done the right thing by allying himself with the trio of Immortal Sorceresses. It was, as the saying went, a mutual win-win for each side. Pasiphaë and her half-sisters provided priceless magical assistance and a method of travel the Olympians couldn't intercept without scorching the land and causing catastrophic damage even the Mist had trouble explaining in a ridiculous manner to the mortals. The Triumvirate had connections and the military muscle to acquire the magical ingredients and resources the sorceresses had great need of in order to maintain their current level of magical potential, including but not limited to the formation of young witches and other Mist-manipulators.
  
  This was what the pact had intended at its very beginning. In practise, it had grown further than that in the last years.
  
  The Labyrinth entrance he had arrived to was a particularly nice example of the benefits this alliance had brought. Where bland walls and the occasional monster had provided the decoration before, there was now a bustling market where Legionnaires, mortals, and lesser sorceresses mingled together.
  
  There was so much noise that the arrival of his escort - twenty Legionnaires in perfect formation - was barely acknowledged. Any other time, the ascending God-Emperor of the Sun would be offended, but since he had deliberately today donned a Centurion's armour of the Legio Primigenia to stay anonymous, the agitation of the market served his purpose.
  
  Gaius Julius Caesar left the black-armoured Legionnaires sworn to him behind, and disappeared into the miniature chaos of the market. His walk was apparently random...but it wasn't. A minute later, a Centurion serving his fellow Triumvir saluted him. Neo Helios approved. The red armour was superb, and the white cloak carried with it both the message of Roman splendour and the fact the Legions were not yet at war...but it would come. Oh yes, it would come.
  
  A secret passage was revealed as the Legionnaire pronounced a long password, and the first male member of the Triumvirate was introduced in the presence of the second.
  
  "Magister Equitum," Gaius saluted him. As far as titles went, the older divine claimant had insisted to be addressed by his co-conspirators by his favourite title. Neo Helios had no objection. That's why he insisted for another of his favourite titles too.
  
  "Princeps."
  
  The only table of the room was covered in maps. The Master of the Legio XV Primigenia didn't manifest a single sign of surprise, internally or externally.
  
  "I bring good news. Circe has agreed to coordinate her forces with yours."
  
  "Excellent!" The fist of the Triumvir struck the table. Fortunately, this was enchanted wood. Even a future God-Emperor had trouble doing lasting damage to an object so resistant. "We are beginning to have the assets to mount a proper trap for the Olympians' dogs!"
  
  The blue eyes stared him with some of the warrior cunning which had made him one of the most famous Legion commanders in history.
  
  "This will go a long way, I think, repairing the loss of initiative we suffered after Perseus Jackson ransacked your Circus Maximus."
  
  "He didn't ransack it, thank you very much. He provoked a large-scale orgy and stormed out with half of the gold the participants gambled on the chariot races."
  
  "That's why I described it as ransacking, Gaius."
  
  Neo Helios tried to find his patience where it had fled to before answering again. It would be poor form to engage into a fist fight with his ally...not to mention it might not end in his victory, given that the Magister Equitum had a far martial power inside him.
  
  "The affair has not been a complete loss. Julia has been able to touch Zoë Nightshade in the end. It seems Perseus Jackson, for all his...recklessness, is not a friend of Olympus, or at least not of the Goddess of the Hunt. The former Hesperides is now struggling between two allegiances."
  
  The expression of the other Roman was sceptical in return.
  
  "Don't tell me the former Hesperides is teleported by your sister's side every twelve hours, I won't believe it."
  
  "You're right," the claimant to the throne of Apollo cleared his throat theatrically, "as long as the unworthy God of the Sun is visible on Olympus, the daughter of Atlas is a loyal...how did you say it? Ah yes, she is a loyal bitch of Artemis. But after dusk, it's another story. According to our spies, whatever hunting garb her mistress gives her during the day, the moment the sun gives up and the moon reigns supreme, the 'girl scout' theme is replaced by the silver armour of the Guard of Neo Selene. And we have confirmation several recruits of the man-haters have been experiencing the same thing. Our agents inside Olympus confirm the Eternal Virgin is keeping them in a magical sleep so that they avoid doing regrettable things...like questioning her rule, wondering why a life deprived of love is such a good thing, and many other topics they wouldn't have dared speaking of before."
  
  "That's..." the Second Triumvir was visibly caught aback. "That's really promising. It's far better than we thought your sister would be able to influence the man-hater girls."
  
  "The claim of Neo Selene has a lot of power to gain before being able to battle the Eternal Virgin, but it is a claim the Olympians have now to take seriously."
  
  The Magister Equitum nodded before returning to the study of the map he had placed above others before Neo Helios' arrival.
  
  "I see you have made good use of the information we sent your way."
  
  "I did," the other Triumvir acknowledged, "and before you ask the question, yes, I am confident we can ambush the Demigods which will be sent eventually in the Zone Mortalis. The problem is that while I can sail tomorrow, we have no idea when the God of Thunder will order a Quest or a Legion deployment to bring him back the Golden Fleece. It could be tomorrow. It could be in one year."
  
  "The idiot who proclaims himself King of the Gods want to avoid the son of the Seas and the daughter of Hell reaching sixteen and becoming the Chosen of the Great Prophecy," he replied neutrally, having thought lengthily over the subject while the influence of the Goddess of the Labyrinth helped him travel to the Labyrinth market-entrance. "So he doesn't have more than four years to ensure the conditions are modified as per his desires."
  
  "That still leaves a lot of time. Zones Mortalis aren't called by that name because they are filled with weak monsters and lesser opponents. The longer we will stay here, the bigger the butcher will be. That's why my Caesarea thinks the plan need a wonderful addition."
  
  Gaius Julius Caesar had always been very disdainful while he was mortal of the gifts of his fellow Triumvir, but he had to admit that the love which shone in his eyes when he said 'my Caesarea' was a source of inspiration. The Magister Equitum was genuinely in love, and his wife clearly returned him this affection ten-fold. This was something worthy of recommendation, whatever his multiple flaws.
  
  "We need bait. We need to make sure the Olympians will panic the moment they hear the news of our latest victory."
  
  "I don't disagree," the God-Emperor who had once been nicknamed Caligula said drily, "but where we will find this bait?"
  
  "Here," the Roman finger fell upon a large island of the map...one which was alas familiar to him, which was a bad sign by itself; the Zone Mortalis was an archipelago of a thousand deadly islands, for it to be recognisable meant it was a suicidal task for mortals to venture there.
  
  "That's the Island-Forge of the Zone Mortalis," Neo Helios spoke calmly, "I don't think the combination of your Legion and your fleet can make a dent in the outer defences. And even if they could...by the hypocritical cuckoldry of the King of the Gods, the God of Fire and the Forges would react rather forcefully to the invasion of one of his primary weapon-production factory. And while I won't deny the idea of taking out a God is attractive, we don't have the military strength to fight a member of the Olympian Council conventionally. Not right now."
  
  There had been extraordinary news that Perseus Jackson and his band of crazy Demigods had somehow managed to vanquish Persephone before revealing Hera's treachery. But Neo Helios was not stupid: he had underestimated the son of the Sea. And Persephone was not powerful enough to be considered a major deity in her own right. Maybe if she had abandoned the domain of Spring and truly embraced Hell...but the reports of their spies on Olympus were extremely confident it was the contrary which had happened now that the 'Great Quest' of the 'Suicide Squad' was officially completed.
  
  "You're right." The Magister Equitum smiled roguishly. "But what if we opposed him a power which is the antithesis of his? A divine power which is the antithesis of the fire powering the advanced forges which are his pride and joy?"
  
  Gaius Julius Caesar grew thoughtful.
  
  "That could work," the no-true-mortal being who had absorbed much of the essence of the dead Helios admitted. "But where do you intend to find a Sea God or Goddess who is willing to fight an Olympian without care for the political fallout?"
  
  "I do not intend to negotiate the services of a God, Princeps."
  
  6 June 2006, the Coral Palace, somewhere in the depths of the Pacific Ocean
  
  The Latin name of the species her spymaster was hailing from was Lagenorhynchus obscurus, but most of the Gods and other intelligent persons who lived above and below the water used the simpler name of dusky dolphin.
  
  And like every good spymaster, Isthmus believed that if you weren't enough paranoid, you had no place being in the silent war every spymaster of the Gods and the Titans had been waging in the shadows for millennia.
  
  His first reaction was thus eminently predictable for any who knew about Isthmus' behaviour.
  
  "Those usurpers will betray us, mistress."
  
  The personification of the sea chuckled.
  
  "I believe it is more accurate to call them pretenders, Isthmus."
  
  "It is true their usurpations have been limited to the looting of the faded Titans' graves, mistress." The white-bellied dolphin grumbled. "I don't like their methods, and I don't like them."
  
  "They are rude and disrespectful of our most ancient traditions," the Titaness acknowledged. "But what do you think about their plan by itself?"
  
  The dusky dolphin hesitated, before looking at a map of the Zone Mortalis. It was a three-dimensional creation which made the one owned by the Triumvirate look like a child's effort. Not only did it showed in real time the presence of the largest sea monsters residing there, but it gave the inhabitants of the Coral Palace a perfect knowledge of the reefs, the currents, and the military orders of battle gathered on each island by the Olympians and the various inimical parties of this world.
  
  "Their plan is a bit too complicated, and I don't like their concept of dividing their forces that much. But it could work. Of course, you would have to do most of the work by yourself, mistress."
  
  "That goes without saying," the green-haired female immortal being smiled. "And since it my work which is going to attract most of the attention, they hope the retribution of Olympus will be sent our way."
  
  "In my humble opinion," Isthmus grumbled, "they are far too optimistic. The Sea of Monsters is not the Labyrinth. The owner of the Master Bolt can't pulverise easily one or two islands there, but the Gods can and will intervene if the stakes are too high. And then there is the fact the very circumstances which allowed the Olympian Council to be unaware Hades was prisoner of his own daughter won't be repeated here. Our chief agent on Olympus is extremely confident about that."
  
  "And our agent is rarely wrong."
  
  Isthmus didn't answer.
  
  Thethys, Titaness of the Seas, wife of Oceanus, and Queen of the Coral Palace, swam away from her throne.
  
  "I have made my decision, Isthmus. We are going to ally temporarily with the Triumvirate."
  
  "Your desires are my will, mistress!" the spymaster squeaked and saluted. "May I ask why? We don't care about whoever sits on the Thrones of Mount Olympus, after all...not when half of them are so stupid they can't swim straight to save their lives."
  
  "You are completely right. I don't care about them." The Sea Titaness smiled. "But I am very much interested in the Demigods responsible for most of the chaos Olympus has suffered from recently."
  
  "Perseus Jackson and Bianca di Angelo..." the black-backed dolphin began.
  
  "Yes. Do you think they should be allowed to claim a domain among our ranks?"
  
  "No. They are too young. They are powerful enough to deserve such an exalted position, mistress...but they are too...too...too instable and crazy. And both have a grudge against the Master of Olympus."
  
  "That last point speak rather well of them, Isthmus."
  
  "Yes, mistress."
  
  Thethys shifted to one of her favourite mermaid appearances, and began to swim away from her throne room.
  
  "Anyway the plan of the Triumvirate will allow me to observe both pretenders and the new generation of Demigods. And we will be able to attune our strategy according to the outcome."
  
  If Perseus Jackson had even half of the arrogance of Zeus, she would eliminate him. The current generation of Olympians was so lamentable that having replacements as bad was something that must be strangled before ascension.
  
  And if he wasn't...she would need to devise a plan to control this young son of Poseidon.
  
  "Gather my armies." Her voice echoed across her domains. "A few Gods are in dire need of a lesson of humility."
  
  6 June 2006, somewhere in the depths of the Mediterranean Sea
  
  It had been a long time since he fully materialised in this part of the eastern Mediterranean.
  
  Poseidon could say it was because he had too many responsibilities...but it would be a lie.
  
  What couldn't be denied was that the sea was incredibly different out there. The Earthshaker didn't like that, but recognised it was likely unavoidable. All seas and oceans were under his rule, but the palaces and sub-domains of the different water deities had autonomy, and if the ties between Atlantis and a lesser throne were weakened enough, his control decreased and his influence decreased until it was nothing but a weak whisper.
  
  The monsters weren't a problem for a God of his strength. The moment they felt him coming, the part-fish creatures fled as fast as their tails allowed them to. And the creatures which had never been answering to his commands raced away even faster.
  
  Poseidon continued to swim tranquilly, wincing at the complete absence of any trace of civilisation. The sea remained beautiful there, and the Olympian could feel the power of the domain washing over him, a loud song demanding him to admire the beauty of its inhabitants and everything he watched.
  
  But of great sea cities, the Lord of Horses and Dolphins saw nothing, not even ruins. This saddened him. Long ago, this part of the Mediterranean had been one of the most prosperous provinces answering to his rule, not only for the crustacean delicacies it offered, but also famous objects and magical creations. And judging by the current situation, it was far too late to reverse the decline.
  
  It was-
  
  Poseidon summoned his Trident. He wasn't swimming at subsonic speeds - this would be a massive insult - and there was no mistaking when he was about to be intercepted before reaching his destination.
  
  Two seconds later, an enormous shape indeed blocked the way.
  
  It appeared as an enormous blue whale, but Poseidon recognised the green-blue divine aura shrouding it.
  
  This was...not a conversation he had come forwards to.
  
  "What a surprise, my father remembers my existence at last!"
  
  "Daughter...you look...in good health."
  
  "And no thanks to you," Rhode, Goddess of Rhodes and often nicknamed the 'Light of the Sea', retorted with a voice which had convinced thousands of sailors to throw themselves in the waves in the vain hope they could charm her. "You are not welcome here. Say what you want to say, and leave."
  
  The God of Oceans and Seas frowned.
  
  "Careful, daughter. I can tolerate that you are displeased with me, but I remain the Master of Atlantis and all domains which live under the waves. Unless you wish to challenge me?"
  
  "No," the Goddess in whale form answered quickly. "Though Kymopoleia might, she is even angrier at you than I am."
  
  He had expected her to say more...but as the silence resumed, it was clear that his daughter didn't make it an easy task.
  
  Poseidon huffed. It was not the first time he wished his daughters had not inherited his stubbornness, his temper, and his tendency to hold grudges, and it wouldn't be the last.
  
  "Very well. There have been worrying developments recently. Roman usurpers have been using fragments of your dead husband's essence in order to attempt an usurpation of the Throne of the Sun."
  
  To his surprise, the whale barely reacted.
  
  "This was known to me, father. I am far from Atlantis' court, but there are people who still desire my favour...and failing that, I still receive the maritime bubble-news and the divine newspapers."
  
  "And you are fine with this state of affairs?"
  
  "Helios is dead," and for all the beauty of his daughter's voice, Poseidon heard the immense pain behind it, "Olympus and yourself have made sure of it. You placed this...the useless golden boy on his Throne, despite him having not the seriousness, the honour, the qualifications, or really anything to handle the domain. The mortals complain about global warming and some other nonsense, but I know better. So no, I am not fine with this state of affairs. But the next ruler can hardly be worse than the current Warden of the Sun."
  
  "This is a very cynical view. You have changed, daughter."
  
  Rhode had been one of the more idealistic Goddesses he'd ever known...and Poseidon wasn't including just his daughters and those of his allies.
  
  "I lost my husband, the arrogant tyrant you call a 'brother' made sure most of my allies and servants were killed or exiled, and your precious Council went so far west that the Mediterranean is a third-rate backwater those days. It would be more surprising if I had not changed, father."
  
  The Earthshaker silently conceded the point.
  
  "Now if this was just to deliver the news in the hope I would storm off my domain and try to kill a bunch of Romans in vengeance, sorry to disappoint you, father. It won't happen. Now, you know the direction of Atlantis-"
  
  "You have a young brother."
  
  "Half-brother," Rhode corrected. "I heard. He made such a ruckus in the Underworld most of the gambling establishments of my domain are betting on what he will do next. I like his style. But I suppose mother wasn't exactly happy about his existence. Unsurprised and unhappy...how long were you unable to sleep in the marital bed this time?"
  
  "Several years," Poseidon was forced to admit. "I want you to meet him."
  
  "Why? You want us to bond over the reality you are a terrible father?"
  
  "I want you to train his hydrokinesis powers. It is a boon he has asked for after recovering the Trident."
  
  And in the God of the Sea's opinion, he truly needed it. It was really...disturbing to see how much his son used other disciplines without giving his sea inheritance the importance it deserved.
  
  "Why don't you do it yourself? A boon is supposed to be repaid by the deity in debt, no? Or better, why not ask Triton?"
  
  "I can't train him because if I do, my paranoiac brother is going to erupt like Mount Vesuvius when it destroyed Pompeii." And obviously, by mentioning a brother, he didn't mean Hades. "As for Triton, he refused."
  
  "Well, he's always afraid each new Demigod you sire could be his replacement."
  
  "Perseus swore on the Styx to your mother that he would never usurp me."
  
  For the first time, the Goddess in her form of whale looked truly confused.
  
  "Ah. Oh, I suppose my brother has his reasons." And it went without saying his daughter was very pleased by the fact tensions existed between Triton and himself. "I suppose I could train him...his rampages are a bit like yours, father. Of course, it was when you tolerated no insult from the thunderous tyrant. When you had the genitalia and the courage to go with your power..."
  
  Sometimes, the Lord of Oceans wondered if there was a reliable book somewhere which explained how to be a good father. Maybe not, such a book would have already been printed a million times by now...
  
  "Name your price, daughter," the King of Atlantis was hardly Hermes, but he recognised a negotiation tactic when one of his children tried one against him.
  
  "You are really fond of him," the whale exploded in blue light, and an instant later, a young blonde-haired young woman had replaced the noble divine form of the blue whale. "Interesting. The price will be steep, then."
  
  Poseidon groaned. Please someone save him from his wife and his children's ideas of luxury and splendour...
  
  7 June 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  It was a very normal day in New Byzantium.
  
  The sky was a perfect blue. The warmth of the sun promised a day which would be perfectly adequate for sunbathing and plenty of outdoor activities.
  
  The kids of Hephaestus, with the threat of war averted, had resumed their activities of creating impossibly complicated automatons and clockwork-alike mechanisms.
  
  His pranksters of brothers had another 'clever' idea this morning: they had taken a glass orb, painted it silver, and wrote on it 'for the best archer' before throwing it through a window of the Barrack of Artemis.
  
  Luke Castellan wished he could tell it was a one-time occurrence and the result of the dislike most male Demigods felt for the Huntresses, but it would be a God-sized lie.
  
  They had already done the same thing to the Aphrodite Barrack a week ago. The major differences had been that the orb was painted pink, and the words 'for the hottest' had been written upon it.
  
  It certainly wasn't because the 'evil lesbian cult' - Jackson's words, not his - had reacted very differently than the children of the Goddess of Love.
  
  Sure, they weren't bottles of perfume, mannequin clothes, and pairs of ridiculous shoes flying. No, instead there were various furs, camping material, and hundreds of arrows.
  
  It would be a minor miracle if no one was killed by the sum of projectiles...and the son of Hermes could only thank whoever had made the rules of New Byzantium frowned heavily on murder.
  
  Otherwise he felt his half-brothers Connor and Travis would be slaughtered by a horde of enraged Demigoddesses and Huntresses.
  
  But apart from that, it was a normal day in the life of a Demigod.
  
  Annabeth and Perseus Jackson were debating about the merits of democracy...okay, that was not normal.
  
  "My dear daughter of Athena, as said a brilliant philosopher of Greece many centuries ago, if you are ruled by the wealthy, your political system is an oligarchy."
  
  "We are a federal republic, seaweed brain! Presidents are elected every four years! This is democracy!"
  
  "No," the son of Poseidon grinned. "A true democracy is, and I'm using your country's own definition there, the rule of a nation by the people for the people."
  
  "You're mangling the principles of the Founders, but yes."
  
  "Glad you agree, great Well of Wisdom," the infuriating leader of the Suicide Squad began before smirking again, "but in this case, why are the citizens not chosen by random ballot drawing?"
  
  "Err," whatever the blonde-haired daughter had expected to hear, it was clearly not that, "because it would be completely stupid. Not everyone has the skills to rule a country. Many would not have the will either. All in all, a lot of people would be absolutely horrible trying to do the job of politicians. It would be..."
  
  The words failed Annabeth, but the other Demigod had a sincere smile of satisfaction on his face.
  
  "It would be indeed the rule of the mob." Perseus Jackson agreed while grabbing a sandwich a gargoyle had brought him. "And in the end, it would just be another form of tyranny. People would bleed on the altars of war and politics, the only difference would be that the knives would belong to the mob, and fall indiscriminately on anyone trying to raise his head above the mud of the pits."
  
  Luke cleared his throat.
  
  "You sound like you speak of experience, Jackson."
  
  The green-eyed Demigod stopped the sandwich mere centimetres away from his teeth.
  
  "In the eternal words of my mad friend the Hierarch: we are free, or none of us are free. You of the people, suffer no compromise in this."
  
  Luke shivered, and he was sure two or three children of Athena who had been listening to the 'debate' were alarmed to.
  
  The rule of the mob, Jackson had called it.
  
  "Of course, he would have added 'Glory to Bellerophon, Eternally Free Jewel of the Free Cities and some other nonsense'." The son Poseidon had sired added with honest fondness. "The great thing with republics is how efficient their brainwashing...I mean their education system is."
  
  Annabeth didn't look pleased, and opened her mouth to give her repartee...and dark clouds materialised above the camp in mere seconds.
  
  "What the hell is happening?"
  
  In mere seconds, the blue sky became a memory of the sky. Ten seconds later, it was seemingly impossible they had been enjoying good weather today; the light of the day vanished, and the dark storm brewing was rivalling by its obscurity several dark places they had encountered in the Underworld.
  
  "At least one God is very angry," the son of the Earthshaker commented giving back his sandwich to the gargoyle, "and I don't have the first idea what provoked it."
  
  For once, the best swordsman of the Hermes Barrack believed him. If the mad Quester had been preparing something explosive, Perseus Jackson wouldn't have waited in the middle of the camp; he should have been running towards the sea in the hope Poseidon would protect him from Zeus' wrath.
  
  "Someone stole the Master Bolt again?" Connor proposed, prompting a snort from Perseus.
  
  "Come on, I have to admit the Master of Olympus is not my favourite God, but no one is that incompetent."
  
  The visibility continued to fall; and despite the mid-morning hour, the assembled Demigods were soon trying to observe their surroundings in the penumbra provoked by this divine-created weather. Lightning fell and thundered in the distance.
  
  There was a sort of shrieking.
  
  And then there was an immense streak of red light.
  
  "This is a meteor!" Travis shouted! "A meteor is going to hit the camp!"
  
  "No," the son of Poseidon managed to make himself heard as the Barracks spiralled into panic and chaos. "I don't think this is a meteor at all..."
  
  Since only Annabeth turned towards him, Luke supposed she had heard him too.
  
  "And what it is, in your opinion?"
  
  "Your world has interesting mythology, did you know?" the Demigod who had triumphed over Persephone said whimsically. "What happens when the angels are rejected by God?"
  
  The fall of the 'meteor' was incredibly fast. There was nothing to do but to take cover behind some tables and pray...and Luke was pleasantly surprised to see it didn't seem to cause much damage.
  
  "It hit one of the Barracks on top of the hill," Travis laughed. "Seriously, did the God of Thunder destroy his own Barrack-"
  
  Fortunately, another of his half-brothers was here to silence him before he said things which would result in lightning incineration.
  
  "I think it hit Barrack Two!" Connor said, and he began to run, followed by...well, what looked to be half of the Camp.
  
  With the night falling and the good weather missing, hundreds of Questers had abandoned their activities, and were now rushing to see what the problem was.
  
  But Luke was fast, so were Perseus and Annabeth, and they were among the first to arrive before Barrack Two.
  
  Or rather what had been Barrack Two.
  
  The construction dedicated to Hera had been neatly pulverised.
  
  The white columns were blackened ruins; the two cow statues guarding the entrance were missing their heads and had multiple cracks which made them absolutely ugly and certainly not safe to be around.
  
  Strangely, there was no fire, though small embers burned here and there.
  
  Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, was the first to step over the boundaries.
  
  Luke followed him a second later. Normally, doing what they just did was tantamount to volunteer for hundreds of hours of very unpleasant chores...but this wasn't a normal day.
  
  The Barrack was large; the Queen of the Gods had never sent children there, but the ego of the Olympians certainly tolerated nothing else but a splendid, useless and lifeless building to satisfy the pride of Zeus' wife.
  
  Though the words 'it had been splendid' should be used.
  
  With every step they took, devastation was all that met their eyes.
  
  The final room was no exception. There must have been a statue of Hera there...it had been melted by the unnatural fire of the blast, and was now just a golden shapeless thing.
  
  But this wasn't what was attracting the most his attention, nor the eyes of Perseus Jackson.
  
  No, the extremely important thing was the girl unconscious in the middle of the human-shaped crater.
  
  Jackson had been right; it wasn't a meteor. It was this girl who had been falling...and given the recent events of the Great Quest, Luke had a dreadful feeling beating in his chest.
  
  The hair were so covered in ashes and dirt it was difficult to say which colour they were supposed to be, but the face was strangely familiar.
  
  But it was impossible.
  
  Barrack Two being destroyed was a clear insult from Zeus, but the Goddesses they had seen dragged away in chains days ago was an immortal.
  
  And the few scratches on this girl...you could see the red of her blood.
  
  Jackson chivalrously took his ridiculous orange cape, and placed it on her body. Luke blushed, as he realised that in his shock, he had watched the fallen girl naked...
  
  "The pain..." the girl coughed loudly. "Why does it hurt so much?"
  
  Then she opened her eyes.
  
  They were blue and green, and Luke had definitely seen a similar light in a far more divine body a few days ago.
  
  "Why does it hurt so much?" Even the voice was close to the one she had spoken with...though there was less arrogance and power behind it today.
  
  "It hurts because you are now mortal." Perseus Jackson smiled before whispering as more Demigods arrived. "Welcome to New Byzantium, Hera. It isn't the apocalypse, but I can definitely see it clearly from here..."
  
  7 June 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  There was a long silence when the hyper-sophisticated screen stopped transmitting.
  
  Few of the nine Gods present had liked Hera before her betrayal, and her popularity had markedly suffered from the evidence she had made possible for the Lightning Thief to steal the symbol of powers of other Olympians.
  
  Yes, it was technically permissible according to the Ancient Laws. But this was playing with the wording of the rules, while trampling ruthlessly the spirit. Few doubted the Queen of the Gods would have stolen the Master Bolt herself if it had been within her capabilities.
  
  Hera had long deserved some nasty punishment. Maybe not for the theft of the Master Bolt, for Zeus was an arrogant hypocrite who could benefit from one cuckolding or two, but the Queen of Gods' atrocities against all Greek and Roman Demigods were well-documented since Olympus was hosting the throne of the Gods.
  
  Yet, Aphrodite could not be denied Zeus had gone overboard this time.
  
  Apollo may have been a bit too brash showing his disgust during the last Council session, but his heart was in the right place. Being deprived from your immortality and all your divine powers was a cruel and long-lasting punishment. Some deities which had been on the receiving end of this treatment never recovered mentally from it. Those who ascended as a God or a Goddess after being born mortal agreed on few things, but they all agreed the ascension process was incredibly painful and traumatic before the pleasure overwhelmed their newly created divine essence.
  
  And seeing Hera as a mortal, powerless, trying to catch up her breath in her fail body of teenage girl, her influence and her titles ruined, in the middle of her own blackened Barrack...it was easy to see Zeus had miscalculated.
  
  The Olympians, and no doubt countless others, were now aware the Master of Olympus had no problem inflicting this punishment on his wife.
  
  Therefore there was no one who couldn't suffer it if the Lord of Thunder decided the situation warranted it.
  
  No one opened his or her mouth to protest. The two who would have been the most likely to, Poseidon and Apollo, were absent today, and their apologies and excuses fooled no one.
  
  "Now that justice has been rendered," oh, this was how they called it, now? Justice? True, in a certain manner, it had been a judgement...one where Zeus was the judge, the jury, and the enforcer of the punishment. And mortals believed justice was blind. They were completely right. "It's time to speak of the next vital matter."
  
  "My divorce?" the Goddess of Love tried to sound very much like the airhead all Olympians believed her to be.
  
  "Your marriage stands. Every unhappy marriage I intended to dissolve has been cancelled."
  
  One day, the Master of Olympus' hypocrisy would be so heavy the foundations of Olympus would be unable to handle the sheer weight of it.
  
  "No. The vital matter is an artefact which will able to solve all our current problems. The Golden Fleece must be recovered."
  
  "Its power is felt from time to time in the Sea of Monsters," Artemis added before showing disappointment. "Unfortunately, one of us visiting the rare islands which do not fall under our authority in this Zone Mortalis would risk military complications. Several Titans have holiday resorts here."
  
  "Indeed," Zeus smiled at his daughter, like she had said an intelligent thing, while in fact it was simply common sense. "This is why I propose we send a Legion expeditionary force."
  
  Aphrodite concentrated and let her Venus persona took over. As always, her martial acumen and her knowledge of logistics and military challenges increased. By the ancient battlefields, the Goddess of Love couldn't wait for the day where all her children would be sons and daughters of love and war. Hopefully, this moment was not far away, as Perseus had done excellent work with Drew.
  
  "This will cost you heavily." The Roman deity murmured. "The Sea of Monsters is currently surrounding the Solomon Archipelago. At a guess, the node island is certainly Guadalcanal."
  
  "I remember the island," Mars said with glee. "The Demigods never stopped complaining about the climate and the mosquitoes. You want to send them there? Ha! Prepare for an ocean of complaints before they see the shadow of the Golden Fleece."
  
  "And besides, supplying several Cohorts across the Pacific Ocean is going to be a colossal effort," Venus gave a lustful look to Mars, thanking her love for his veiled support. "It would be far simpler to send Questers. It will attract less attention, it will be less expensive, and for the first time in centuries, we have a group of Demigods who have proven they can survive a Zone Mortalis without suffering crippling casualties."
  
  It had not escaped her that for all its name of 'Suicide Squad', Perseus Jackson's lieutenants had survived. The only dead 'hero' was Scipio Varus, and since it was one of Zeus' hired assassins, taking him out had always been part of the plan, or at least this was how the martial Goddess of Love saw it.
  
  "Out of the question." For a second, both Jupiter and Zeus were in perfect agreement. "I do not trust those Demigods to bring us back the Golden Fleece."
  
  "You trusted them with the Quest which brought you back your Master Bolt."
  
  For this wise assertion, Athena received a murderous glare from her genitor. The Goddess of Wisdom closed her eyes and clearly abandoned any idea to intervene further in the conversation.
  
  "This was at Poseidon's urging, and at a critical time to lessen tensions between my brothers and Olympus. There is no reason to repeat the move today."
  
  The eyes of thunder were turned once again to Mars, who was in his great uniform of Roman Legate for the occasion.
  
  "You will go to New Constantinople with Hercules, Mars. I give you one moon to organise war games so that the best Cohort of the three loyal Legions is selected for this operation."
  
  Sometimes, it was good to be reminded the God of Thunder didn't need his ex-wife's help to embark on terminally stupid ventures.
  
  "By your orders," the Roman War's fist struck his Legionnaire armour. "There's just the small matter they are likely to want a large payment, given the rumours spreading about the gains of certain Questers..."
  
  "War," Jupiter thundered, "will pay for itself."
  
  Ah. There were rumours that Hera had emptied the personal treasury of the Lord of the Skies before her betrayal was revealed. It was evident now they were completely true.
  
  Author's note:
  
  Wow. This Interlude (totally not Chapter Eleven!) was longer than I thought it would be.
  
  The Great Quest for the recovery of the missing symbols of power is over. But the consequences remain. By their actions, the Suicide Squad have awoken forces which should have best left asleep...if the protagonists were sane.
  
  And it is not the case, whether you speak of the Demigods or not. Craziness is in their blood...
  
  Well, this is the first (unofficial) arc of an Impractical Guide to Godhood truly over. Sail towards new adventures, brave heroes of Olympus!
  
  The Sea of Monsters and its myriads of dangers await.
  
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  Imminent Problems
  Chapter 12
  
  Imminent Problems
  
  "So it begins. We are at the end of sanity, my friends." Attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  8 June 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Luke Castellan had gone out of his Barrack on this sunny morning with the goal of finding Perseus Jackson, sole and only son of Poseidon, and without doubt the craziest Demigod of New Byzantium.
  
  To his sorrow, the son of Hermes had found him quickly.
  
  The Earthshaker's son, despite the early hour, was already active on the beach instead of being near the breakfast tables, surrounded by a respectable crowd of gargoyles, nymphs, and Demigods.
  
  And they were dancing.
  
  No, they were dancing and singing. It was the latter action which was the most disturbing...especially given how atrocious the melody was for his poor ears.
  
  Though one had to admit, the dancing choreography was hurting his eyes too.
  
  "One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
  
  The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free
  
  You'll find a god in every golden cloister
  
  And if you're lucky then the god's a she
  
  I can feel an angel sliding up to me."
  
  The singing stopped for a second, and the gargoyles and the rest of the dancers took the most ridiculous positions possible, while firecrackers of orange and purple exploded.
  
  The only thing Luke found reassuring was that Ethan Nakamura had refused to participate, and was standing near a pile of crates with an expression of suffering, dark shadow in the middle of this musical madness.
  
  "One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
  
  Not much between despair and ecstasy
  
  One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
  
  Can't be too careful with your company
  
  I can feel the devil walking next to me."
  
  There had to be a VIP place in the Fields of Punishment for whoever had introduced Jackson to this world's music, of that Luke Castellan had no doubt.
  
  Unfortunately, this person was not here - otherwise the Son of Hermes would have taken great pleasure killing him or her.
  
  There was nothing to do but wait for the cacophony to end, the awful musical choir to stop singing, and the crowd to disperse...which it did...after long minutes which were near unbearable.
  
  "Luke Castellan!" Perseus exclaimed like he had not seen him in a month, as his gargoyles hurried to clean the beach. "How fares my favourite heroic lieutenant today?"
  
  "The day was good," the son of Hermes admitted, "before I listened to your horrible musical performance."
  
  The insane Demigod placed a hand on his chest, where most humans could say they had a heart beating underneath. In the case of the self-proclaimed leader of the Suicide Squad, the blonde-haired Quester had his doubts.
  
  However, this move allowed him to observe the 'master' of Barrack Three more attentively. Perseus Jackson was bare-chested, and aside from a swimsuit to protect the strict minimum of modesty, was not wearing anything else.
  
  "If you're watching me like this, for too long, the girls are going to be jealous, oh my heroic lieutenant."
  
  Ethan Nakamura snorted in the distance.
  
  "Don't flatter yourself...I am not into boys. I was just wondering why you were in a swimsuit so early in the morning."
  
  "Well, I went for my morning swim, of course! You don't think having a body like the one I have is obtained by drinking ultra-sugared drinks and other products of the fast food industry, do you?"
  
  Luke rolled his eyes. He had no doubt the younger black-haired boy had trained hard to have a muscled body like he did; one did not arrive to the kind of result which had several girls whispering behind their backs while sleeping most of the days like a child of Hypnos. But most of the time the last week, it had been evident the son of Poseidon was an early riser.
  
  "I don't doubt you are training...unconventionally. I just wonder what you did long before breakfast, this time."
  
  "Fine, fine! Take the joy out of my grand proclamations...I just went to visit a nice couple of sharks." Perseus grinned. "They offered to launder some of our less...irregular prizes into usable Drachmas and Denarii. With several Olympians refusing us the access to their banking services, I had to resort to alternative measures so we had proper bank accounts."
  
  "When you say sharks," Ethan said dubitatively, "are we speaking about the animals or the lawyers?"
  
  "One does not prevent the other," the son of Poseidon replied virtuously, his green eyes shining with mischievousness. "Anyway, this was the last step in the proceedings of dividing the spoils of the Great Quest. In approximately twelve hours, each of the members of the Suicide Squad will receive a direct Ultra-Divine Portable Vault with the most modern international money transfers I could negotiate, filled with exactly ten million Drachmas."
  
  No matter how jaded - and Ethan and Luke had reasons to be more of that than most Demigods - there was no way they couldn't gape at the son of Poseidon.
  
  "Ten...million..." Assuredly, there had been assurances each Quester would receive two million Drachmas if the Great Quest was successfully completed.
  
  It was a very respectable sum, enough to make them incredibly wealthy...but between two and ten million, there was an enormous difference.
  
  "How?" He managed to ask.
  
  "A Great Quest is very, very profitable, my heroic lieutenant...provided you survive of course."
  
  "What I think Luke wants to ask," Ethan said in a tone of 'Gods, give me strength' and a gargoyle handed an orange towel to Jackson, "is how you managed to raise the rewards from two million to ten million for each of us. Yes, you repeated to us that twenty-four million Drachmas is just cheap pocket money for the Lord of the Seas, but there was no promise to spend one more Drachma than that. And I doubt very much the owner of the Master Bolt contributed."
  
  "He didn't," Perseus confirmed. "But the Lord of the Underworld did. That's where most of the neat increase of our individual rewards is coming from, since you're asking about it."
  
  "Most?"
  
  "I will send you the paperwork along with the extra-documentation, but to keep it simple, the Rich One gave each of us five million, the God of Wine added one million, and Aphrodite was satisfied enough to add one more million to the mix."
  
  "And the last million?" Luke didn't know if he should be worried that they were in the good graces of so many important Gods and a Goddess...or afraid about how many Olympians had evidently decided not to reward them.
  
  "The Lady of Magic," Perseus replied neutrally, and the son of Hermes nodded. Yes...they hadn't exactly opposed Pasiphaë beyond ruining her fortress, didn't they? And Lou Ellen Blackstone, her daughter, had received power boost after power boost...before taking a bath in the waters of the Styx.
  
  This was great. They were not the wealthiest beings in the world, far from it, but they had likely more money they would ever be able to spend in their lives, unless they were given immortality somewhere in the future.
  
  Of course, with the attention they had brought upon themselves, the big problem was how long they still had to live before Zeus or another irritated Olympian decided to get rid of them.
  
  "Well, I'm hungry," Perseus affirmed while a gargoyle threw him an orange T-Shirt and purple shorts he promptly donned. Most orange T-Shirts for the Questers of New Byzantium were thematically wearing something like 'Byzantium' or 'Quester', but this one had a large sigil of a furious minotaur's head, above the capital letters 'SUICIDE SQUAD LEADER'. "We can finish this discussion while we go to breakfast. For instance, you can tell why you were searching for me so early in the morning. You didn't know about my shark negotiations, so logically it should be for another issue. What is the problem you couldn't solve, oh great leader of Barrack Eleven?"
  
  "Our newest addition is going to be assassinated if she spends one more night in our Barrack." Luke Castellan declared bluntly.
  
  "That bad?" Ethan seemed genuinely surprised; the son of Hermes noted that the green-eyed mad Demigod wasn't.
  
  "We have had problematic 'guests' in the past," the blonde-haired Demigod who had journeyed to the Garden of the Hesperides and come back sighed, "I know it's tradition, with my father being the Protector of Thieves, Travellers, and countless other titles I have not bothered to learn by heart. But ..."
  
  "But?" Perseus Jackson grinned.
  
  "She's a very unpleasant bitch."
  
  Luke wasn't going to say every Demigod who came to Barrack Eleven was greeted with smiles and a party, even after he had contributed to enlarge their home and make it far more comfortable than it was before.
  
  There had been problems before the fallen Goddess stepped a foot inside the boundaries blessed by Hermes, it went without saying. It had unravelled into something worse very quickly.
  
  Yes, Hera was mortal right now, but it didn't prevent her from being an antagonistic pain in the ass to anyone she met.
  
  And speaking of the Devil...
  
  The fallen Goddess was waiting for them at a respectable distance from the breakfast tables...most likely because the table of his half-brothers and half-sisters had decided the bitch would eat once they were gone and not before.
  
  Outwardly, it was evident Zeus had done a number on this mortal form. Nobody could be that ugly by accident.
  
  Now that the girl was somewhat clean, her hair was a combination of blonde and brown, as if the Master of Olympus had been unable to settle on one colour, and decided on something which looked like wheat mixed with dirty mud. Each of her eyes had a different colour; blue for the left one, green for the right one.
  
  But the most terrible insult was the acne. Without exaggeration, Luke could say it was disfiguring her: the healers who had inspected her had thought first it was some form of disease before recognising the ugly red marks for what they were.
  
  And though she was in hands-me down clothes which were too large for her, there was no denying the rest of her body, while certainly aged enough to be fifteen or sixteen, was unattractive in the extreme. Mortal Hera had a flat chest, didn't have a trace of warrior musculature in her arms or legs, and was generally not beautiful whatever your standards for it were.
  
  The aura of arrogance the fallen Goddess had surrounded herself with in the Underworld remained, though.
  
  "I thought each newcomer, no matter if he or she is Greek or Roman, receives a basic kit of clothes and gifts once he is accepted inside the colony," the son of Poseidon mused.
  
  "Yeah," Luke commented sarcastically, "the rules say that, and it applies to every Demigod newcomer...and she isn't one. Plus I don't think our Director is very eager to enforce the rules when it is his lovely and compassionate stepmother we're talking about. Anyway, she can't stay in Barrack Eleven for one more day. Not unless we want a corpse on our hands. And unlike Barrack Eleven, you have a gigantic Barrack for yourself, Jackson."
  
  "I have plenty of uses for it," the black-haired Demigod countered, "but yes, it shouldn't be too much of chore to give her a room...I can decide if I will pay for the rebuilding of her Barrack or not later."
  
  "Just like that?" Ethan raised his eyebrows in semi-stupefaction.
  
  "Just like that," the leader of the Suicide Squad - after all, he had the T-Shirt to prove it - answered before shaking his head. "I will want a minor favour in exchange, of course, Castellan."
  
  "Of course," but since it was his half-sisters who had been the most virulent voices to expel Hera from Barrack Eleven - logical, as they were the ones in contact with her most of the last evening - it would be them who would repay the favour.
  
  "You're not afraid of the Master of Olympus' wrath, Jackson?" Ethan asked, in what could have been a dark joke but definitely wasn't. "He isn't going to happy she is living in your Barrack...adultery opportunities and all of that."
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant," the young son of the God of the Seas said in amused tone, "first, I have no intention to touch Hera. I won't be always too young to enjoy carnal activities, but I have no intention to touch someone that self-righteous in her hypocrisy."
  
  Obviously by this point, they were so close to the fallen Goddess that she couldn't help but listen to every word they uttered.
  
  "I will kill you for that," the ugly female teenager muttered predictably.
  
  "And there is the fact the Lord and Master of Olympus is doubtlessly besieged in his very temple at the moment we're speaking," the infuriating Demigod continued, "as mobs of female deities, nymphs, and other powerful beings have heard of the divorce and now want to become the Queen of the Gods."
  
  "Err..." Luke cleared his throat. This was a...very disturbing image conjured in his head. And after a second of deep thought, the son of Hermes wondered why this hypothetical was...
  
  "Wait a minute. This is a hypothetical scenario, right?"
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about, my heroic lieutenant!"
  
  Somehow, the tone employed didn't reassure him at all...
  
  8 June 2006, Zeus' Palace, Olympus
  
  Apollo had expected things when answering the summons sent by his genitor.
  
  He had not expected his first reaction would be to evade a blue high-heeled shoe once he was there.
  
  This was just the beginning of a desperate series of moves as hairbrushes, containers of mascara, and many other objects he recognised as part of several Goddesses' arsenal of beauty products, went flying near him.
  
  "This isn't funny!" The God of Poetry, Sun, and Music exclaimed.
  
  Unfortunately, his words went completely unheard in the massive chaos which was now reigning.
  
  Despite experience on many, many wars - some of them he had himself instigated - the Slayer of Python had never seen so many lesser Goddesses and immortal beings of the Greek-Roman Pantheon participate in the same quarrel.
  
  It was enough to make him doubt for a few seconds he was truly in the Palace-temple of the Lord of Olympus...but the decoration of lightning bolts and enchanted clouds was unique and had never been replicated elsewhere.
  
  "Stop this quarrel at once!"
  
  He was completely ignored, which was...really unusual and disrespectful of his authority.
  
  The God of the Sun thought to illuminate the columns and the rest of the avenue...but given how loud the women were screaming, he recognised it was something he may not wish to attempt.
  
  For the time being, Apollo had only to evade the lipsticks, the hairbrushes and the torn-up hats the Goddesses threw at each other.
  
  If they suddenly decided to unite against him...err...it was a frightening possibility.
  
  One which would leave him no choice but to unleash his full divinity and hope he could stand against dozens of enraged Goddesses.
  
  And judging by their mood, there would be no mercy...
  
  "I AM ZEUS' FAVOURITE!"
  
  "GET OUT OF MY WAY! I WILL BE THE NEXT QUEEN OF THE GODS!"
  
  "YOU ARE A UGLY CRONE! WHO WOULD MARRY YOU?"
  
  "YOU ARE ALREADY MARRIED!"
  
  "I WILL BE DIVORCED BEFORE SUNSET! HERA IS NOT HERE ANYMORE TO TAKE MY RIGHTFUL PLACE!"
  
  Golden and silver objects went flying, and Apollo had to catch up an inestimable violin before it was smashed apart.
  
  Damn it! Damn it to all the pits of Tartarus! The God of Healers and Medicine had known Hera being officially cast down was going to cause headaches - no great pun intended - but this was worse than his most pessimistic predictions!
  
  The God of Archery looked around, and sure enough, there was a Goddess who was staying out of the melee of shrieking deities, but sometimes threw one watch or a brooch, creating more violence when it was at risk of decreasing.
  
  "Eris," Apollo raced to place himself behind the Goddess of Discord, "the Council is not amused by this scheme of yours."
  
  "Oh, this isn't my scheme," the daughter of Nyx protested lightly, before giving him a sultry look. Apollo ignored it. He had no wish to find himself in the bed of an immortal woman like her, no matter how attractive certain of her looks pertaining to strife and mental vigour could be. "They were already fighting when I arrived."
  
  "I don't believe you."
  
  "Well, in this case...you are wrong."
  
  The Goddess clicked her fingers, and in a heartbeat, a large advertisement board which had been thoroughly ruined and cut in half by something very sharp was restored.
  
  Apollo grimaced, because truly, there was little subtlety in the message he could read.
  
  YOU ARE DESIRABLE? YOU ARE AMBITIOUS? YOU THINK YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE AN OLYMPIAN? MARRY THE MASTER OF OLYMPUS!
  
  Under the large bright red letters were a few more sentences which almost brought a smile on his lips.
  
  This organisation declines all responsibility in case of infidelity from one of the parties. We wish to remember all participants must be adult, vaccinated against stupidity, and that divine condoms have a 5% success rate. Incestuous relationships will be accepted as long as Aphrodite consents. This message has been approved by SHARK PROPAGANDA, bringing news and rumours to Olympus since two millennia!
  
  By his Oracles...how many of those advertisement boards had been built and dispersed near the palaces of the Council?
  
  Many nymphs and lesser Goddesses stormed the outer temple of Zeus, and Apollo shivered, because he had a feeling the answer was 'too many'.
  
  "This isn't funny at all!" Apollo declared, as the 'reinforcements' were determined, armed with hairbrushes and many improvised weapons no true man wanted to stand against...and they easily doubled the effectives of the immortals already present.
  
  Eris, traitor Goddess, burst into laughter.
  
  "I completely disagree!" Then the Goddess of Strife turned towards her fellow Goddesses. "May I remind you, cousins, that the glorious God of the Sun has yet to be betrothed?"
  
  Hundreds of eyes turned towards him, and in an instant, delivering his genitor from this terrible female siege...it was not a priority anymore.
  
  "Now that I think about it, I have a Sun Ferrari to drive! Ciao, Bella!"
  
  Apollo was among the fastest Gods of the Greek-Roman Pantheon.
  
  He almost managed to get out of Zeus' Palace before being intercepted.
  
  Almost.
  
  8 June 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about, my heroic lieutenant!"
  
  Perseus cackled as Luke Castellan and Ethan Nakamura looked him in alarm.
  
  After a few seconds, he decided it was no use letting them worrying about what was happening on Olympus. His efforts at spreading fake news in those august halls had gone into effect hours ago.
  
  "Don't worry, I know what I am doing."
  
  "And that's absolutely not reassuring," his treacherous and brooding lieutenant muttered.
  
  "Now let's go to breakfast, I'm famished. You are welcome at my table, ex-Hera."
  
  "When I will have recovered my powers-"
  
  "You will get rid of your acne first, I presume," Perseus said, walking towards Table Three without looking behind.
  
  "Yes and...what? No!"
  
  "Oh, you're enjoying your acne so much you want to stay with it for a few thousand years? This is a very surprising choice, but who I am to deny you your ugly looks and your pig-like arrogance?"
  
  Truly Zeus had done him a splendid favour by turning his wife into a mortal girl. Not one day, and Perseus was having unprecedented fun riling her up.
  
  Forget the man-hater huntress, Perseus had already found a worthwhile replacement. The possibilities, both in terms of story, powers, and humiliations, were truly infinite!
  
  "Getting rid of my acne will be my second use of my powers once I have my divine powers back, infernal bastard," the heterochromia-eyed girl glared murderously as they sat at the Poseidon breakfast table - not to be mistaken for the lunch and dinner table, of course. "Killing you will be the first."
  
  "I'm flattered," Perseus answers as he asked for a bottle of grape juice and immediately filled his glass with the container which had arrived magically within two seconds.
  
  The next five minutes were spent on complete silence, though the ex-Goddess never stopped glaring at him, no matter what she ate or drank.
  
  Perseus was pouring a lot of strawberry jam on a large piece of bread for the third time - hey, he was a growing boy, and a lot of activities at New Byzantium, official or not, required a lot of energy - when he felt divine energy coming in his direction.
  
  "Mountain of Arrogance," one blue eye and one green eye promised him hellish pain...but seriously, given that he had met Bianca di Angelo, Hera was severely lacking when it came to threaten someone just by baring her teeth. "Move."
  
  Predictably and just as the son of Poseidon had anticipated, the girl who had been the Queen of the Gods didn't. People who hated him were prone to making the same mistake again and again.
  
  This was why, a second later, the pot containing delicious apricot jam was overturned on Hera's head.
  
  A lot of Demigods at the other tables laughed, especially as the fallen Goddess spluttered in rage and turned to face the being who had humiliated her.
  
  "You are-"
  
  And then she realised how muscled the God in front of her was. Was it interesting to see the ex-Queen of the Gods pale and for the first time lose her colossal arrogance?
  
  Yes. Yes, it definitely was an interesting moment.
  
  "Yes?" Unfortunately, there was the same arrogance in the God's voice. Well, he was the son of Zeus. "Nothing to say, Hera?"
  
  The ex-Goddess of Marriages glared but didn't say a word.
  
  Which was wise of her, really.
  
  Nemean Lion cape, check. Ten-packed abs, check. Blue eyes which redefined the colour of 'electric blue', check.
  
  The God was built on the model of the mortal actor playing the Terminator in the same movies, except possibly even more over-muscled and shrouded in virility and vitality.
  
  Already, Perseus knew one blow from this God would result in his death, no 'if' or 'but'. The only Demigods who could possibly survive a couple of hits were the daughters of Hades and Hecate, courtesy of having bathed in the Styx.
  
  Seriously, how was it possible that this God wasn't an Olympian? His power was several levels above half of the Gods who had been present in Hades' Throne Room!
  
  Oh, right...Hera.
  
  "I am going to watch you while I'm here to oversee the War Games." The vicious smile proved the God of Strength was very much the son of Zeus. "One step out of line, and I will be your executioner. This time, there will be none of our favourites to save you. It was so satisfying seeing them pillaging your palace..."
  
  Tears appeared on Hera's face. Perseus had to admit he was interested to know if it was about the part where she was at the mercy of Hercules, or if it was at the realisation everyone had truly abandoned her.
  
  "You deserve this fate. For everything evil you have done," the God exulted, "you will pay."
  
  And this time, the strawberry jam was thrown upon her head.
  
  Perseus sighed internally. Truly it had taken very few seconds for him to lose all respect for Zeus' son. Seriously, the guy had millennia to avenge himself, but only made a decisive step when his enemy was mortal? It was pathetic.
  
  "While I am willing to blame everything upon Hera's head..." many Demigods snickered not far away, having heard about certain events of the Great Quest, "she is hardly the only one who has been involved in unsavoury deeds. Isn't that right, Heracles?"
  
  The name meant 'Glory of Hera' in Greek...and naturally Hercules hated it. To be fair, given the past between those two, Perseus would hate it too if he was in his place.
  
  "You are the son of Poseidon. I think I know why my father loathes you, pest."
  
  "You are the son of Zeus. I'm beginning to see how you turned Zoë Nightshade, a pacifist Hesperides, into a man-hating Huntress."
  
  For the first, and likely only time of his life, there were cheers coming from Artemis' table to support him.
  
  Truly the end of this world was near.
  
  "The promise was not made on the Styx. I am not her."
  
  Perseus Jackson laughed high and loud, and he didn't need to force himself.
  
  "Tell me...did the Council mention to you how the Goddess of Hatred attacked viciously and relentlessly your stepmother?"
  
  It hadn't happened, of course. For all her arrogance, Hera had not broken the oaths she swore on the Styx. Unlike Zeus, the ex-Queen of the Gods was intelligent enough to know how much of a bad it was.
  
  "She is not my stepmother." The God of Strength denied instinctively before growling. "And she killed my wives and children!"
  
  "You should thank her," hey, he was a villain, and everything could be excused under the 'right circumstances', "Hera likely saved you a fortune in divorce fees and husband pensions. Truly the power of the Goddess of Marriages is absolutely boundless within reasonable limits."
  
  "If you think making light of my suffering is going to help your cause-"
  
  "Oh come on! The Twelve Trials would have been extremely easy to accomplish if you hadn't tried to accomplish them by slamming your head against each obstacle like the bag of muscles you are!"
  
  The glare Perseus received in return was rather...disappointing. His first impression was the right one: Heracles was a mad dog with little imagination.
  
  Yes, Hera was a monster - though admittedly, several times she had warned Zeus his infidelities would not be tolerated, and every time her husband thought he could get away with it...which was a recipe for a bigger disaster down the line.
  
  Hera was a monster. But it didn't erase the rather monstrous behaviour of other Gods and Goddesses, and well before his ascension, Heracles' deeds had been extremely bloody and violent. Seriously, if you read between the lines, he had been raping and massacring his way across the Mediterranean long before becoming immortal.
  
  It was extremely practical to blame everything on Hera. But speaking from experience, the ex-Tyrant knew a lot of crimes the son of Zeus had committed were not done when divinely cursed.
  
  "When you step out of line, I will be your executioner too, sea spawn."
  
  That answered the question if he was going to have to kill Heracles before dealing with Zeus.
  
  Obviously, it meant 'yes'.
  
  "And this was such a nice breakfast...ah, well." Perseus raised his toast, and a second later, the protection enchantments of Poseidon kicked in.
  
  Yes, he had invited Hera at his table. She was a guest, and thus protected by the laws of hospitality.
  
  And 'Mr. Muscle' had just violated those laws without a care, before egregiously threatening a son protected by the diplomatic immunity afforded to the Questers who came back alive from near-impossible exploits.
  
  Heracles hadn't the time to change shape or become insubstantial as a geyser of water struck him.
  
  The water attack was so powerful he was expelled from New Byzantium's boundaries and disappeared far over the horizon.
  
  "What a beautiful morning," the former Tyrant proclaimed cheerfully, and many Demigod and Demigoddesses laughed nervously. After finishing his grape juice, Perseus turned towards the miserable-looking ex-Goddess. "Follow me to my Barrack. You need a shower, and I need to decide what to do about you, ex-Hera."
  
  Predictably, she glared again, the nickname restoring a bit of her fighting spirit.
  
  Oh yes, the next weeks were going to be very amusing...
  
  8 June 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Hera had feared the worst when the son of Poseidon had ordered her to follow him to his Barrack.
  
  Young or not, the Demigod was utterly crazy, and within the boundaries of Barrack Three, no one but Poseidon, Amphitrite and Triton had really the power to intervene if the boy who had participated in her downfall decided to torture her.
  
  Remembering the threats of Hercules - she wasn't going to call the brute by his Greek name - made her shiver.
  
  The new mortal girl had tried to conjure her divine power so that she would be protected if Zeus' bastard struck her.
  
  She hadn't been able to materialise a sparkle of power.
  
  Since her fall, every hour had been filled with new realisations how weak she truly was, but this one had been the worst of the lot.
  
  Even when Hercules had clearly been in the wrong, it had taken Perseus Jackson's intervention to banish the aggressive brute.
  
  No God or Goddess had been willing to intervene for her...and her own martial abilities were truly nonexistent.
  
  All of this meant she had definitely feared the worst...and then entered Barrack Three anyway.
  
  To her pleasant surprises, there had been no gargoyles or another slave of Poseidon's son trying to spy her under the shower. There was plenty of warm water to remove the jam she had gotten in her hair, and then enjoy a soothing moment, likely the most peaceful moment she'd had since Zeus dragged her away in chains from Hades' seat of power.
  
  There were even clothes to her size waiting for her.
  
  The former immortal winced though as the underwear, the T-Shirt, the trousers, and...well, pretty much everything, were a glaring shade of orange which would be seen a kilometre away.
  
  But at least they were her size. So were the boots...though she wondered how in the name of Tartarus Perseus Jackson had found a shoe designer willing to sponsor those orange fluorescent fashion atrocities.
  
  When she looked in the mirror of the large bathroom, Hera froze for long seconds.
  
  This...this was a nightmare, right?
  
  She was going to wake up...any moment...but no such luck. The nightmare continued.
  
  And after a few seconds, there was nothing to do but getting out and facing the son of Poseidon.
  
  Hera had expected him to wait right behind the door, but once again, the boy surprised her; only a gargoyle was present near the corridor, and it escorted her for quite a walk before they were introduced in what was an Atlantis-themed office.
  
  Poseidon and Amphitrite had done a good job with this place, she had to acknowledge it. Most of it was blue and white columns and walls, with numerous sea-themed mosaics which served as floor. Water was everywhere, no matter the room you found yourself to; this office for example had a mid-sized fountain with four little crabs of stone and one much bigger dolphin as stone ornaments. A system of water pipes could regulate the temperature of their surroundings between ice-freezing polar conditions and sauna-hot atmosphere.
  
  This made her remember the ruin her own Barrack had become by the fault of Zeus...and why she was here today.
  
  Perseus Jackson took his time looking up from a pile of documents which looked official bureaucracy from Atlantis.
  
  "Oh good, you're here," where else exactly could she go? "And you look like a human being...might have to do something about this arrogance, however."
  
  "Listen to me," the Goddess who had been denied her rightful throne, "I have had a very bad day and-"
  
  "And it is going to get worse," there was no maniacal grin, just a bored expression...though the green eyes shone with something she didn't like.
  
  "What? NO! I am a Goddess!"
  
  "Ex-Goddess," the son of Poseidon raised a finger.
  
  "This situation is not permanent!"
  
  The expression on the face of the Demigod made her freeze once more. There was more than a shadow of mockery...but the foremost emotion was pity.
  
  "No, it isn't. But."
  
  "But?" She didn't like at all where it was getting.
  
  "Well, I'm not familiar with thousands of years of Greek-Roman deity punishments, but the instance where your former husband chose this particular one happens rarely. I think it was the God of Music and my father who were the last ones to 'enjoy' it the last time it was done."
  
  Though some of her memories were either fragmented or not here anymore, Hera knew instinctively what he was talking about.
  
  "They were banished for an entire year. And they built the walls of Troy during that time...without being paid."
  
  It was in many ways the first reason why there was a Trojan War in the first place...not because of this damned golden apple of Eris.
  
  "Indeed," the black-haired boy grinned. "As you can see, your case is very different. If there was a time limit to your exile, no one has been given it. Hephaestus TV and Apollo Instantaneous Chat have already thousands of pages remarking upon that."
  
  "Those 'social networks' are filled with fake news."
  
  "Oh, absolutely...but then the God of the Sun has a point when he tells others it was the support of his twin sister which ensured the punishment lasted only one year. Similarly, my father had the support of Atlantis' court behind him. While you...well, you have no one left. Your court is doing a very good job trying to sell their services to any Olympian or powerful God and Goddess who is willing to overlook their previous allegiance to you."
  
  "Nothing is lasting forever, even on Olympus," Hera hissed. "I'm sure once they realise how tyrannical my former husband is without me to keep him on a straight path, they will repent!"
  
  "That's a given," to her surprise, the agreement came once more, "but you were a horrible Goddess to be around, and the most likely reasoning is that they will try to deal with Zeus forcefully, not try to reinstate you. As it stands, half of the Council is concerned about the precedent the glorious Lord of Thunder has set, but it is because they fear for their own Thrones, not because they support you."
  
  "And the other half?"
  
  "The other half rejoices that you are severely punished." The gleeful answer came and struck hard. "I'm sure you can guess the names by yourself."
  
  "Yes..."
  
  Hephaestus. Artemis. Zeus, of course. Those were the ones who were certain to behave like Hercules.
  
  "I will ascend again. And my vengeance will be terrible."
  
  "No." Perseus Jackson shook his head and looked at her like she was a simpleton.
  
  "I will-"
  
  "Silence," unnaturally, and despite all her efforts to refuse the order, her mouth was closed magically. "I let you speak because I wanted to hear your delusional ideas, but I think I have gotten everything of relevance. Now it's my time to monologue. I will begin with the evidence: right now, you are functionally useless, be it mentally or physically."
  
  How dare he? How dare-
  
  "It is evident the body you received was an insult of the highest order," the son of Poseidon abandoned his office chair behind and went to drink at the office's fountain, "there are no muscles, and I'm ready to bet none of the divine reflexes you considered for granted in the last millennia have been adapted to fit this new body of yours. Therefore in a battle, you will be worse than a liability; you will be the ugly and defenceless civilian. The moment you step out of New Byzantium, the first Hellhound would joyously make a snack out of you...and let's be honest, there are far, far more dangerous things than Hellhounds around which want you dead and gone."
  
  This...this was problematic, but if she stayed within New Byzantium's city limits...
  
  "Considering you can be an intelligent girl when you're not an arrogant bitch," Zeus was first, but she would get that bastard eventually, "you're certainly thinking you can stay protected by the magical wards and walls of the Greek-Roman settlement. This won't work. The threats aren't just outside. Many Demigods have every reason to loathe you. For some reason, most of them not managing to reach eighteen of age before they are killed leave them very unconcerned about the benefits which come with Marriage and long-term unions."
  
  Of course not, they were bastards and-
  
  "I would be very surprised if there aren't already ten plots to kill you prepared while we speak. So you see, ex-Goddess, whether from inside or outside, there are plenty of factions who intend to make sure you do not return to Olympus...no matter how improbable your ex-husband marrying you again would be."
  
  As if she wanted to marry this frivolous womaniser once more.
  
  "Without my help, I would be very surprised if you live to enjoy the Summer Solstice, never mind the Winter one." The son of Poseidon smiled wolfishly, one hand on the fountain, the other playing with a water ball manipulated by hydrokinesis. "But since you emptied the Thunderous Treasury and hid it before going down...I am willing to see if you are salvageable. You can speak again."
  
  Hera massaged her throat for several seconds...and for the first time, she fought to calm herself.
  
  "And what is...what are the conditions of your...ultimatum?"
  
  "Ultimatum? Such an ugly word...you can always get out of this Barrack, dear ex-Goddess. But I will warn you, Barrack Eleven doesn't want you back. For some reason, many Demigods and Demigoddesses are even less fond of you than they were yesterday evening."
  
  Hera gritted her teeth...which hurt. Damn her frail mortal body.
  
  The bastard knew that without the protections afforded by a Barrack, she would have to sleep like a vagrant somewhere in the hills, far away from New Byzantium so that no assassin could find her. It would be a new exile in all but name.
  
  "Name your conditions."
  
  "First, I want to examine you."
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  Perseus Jackson opened a little chest reverently, and took from it a golden pair of glasses he placed upon his eyes.
  
  "No need to remove your clothes, I just want to check...ha! I knew it!"
  
  "Err..." he had just looked at her clothes...what kind of artefact could be useful in this kind of circumstances? "What did you just do?"
  
  "I just confirmed one of my theories," the son of Poseidon said as the golden glasses were removed and placed back into the small chest. "You aren't completely mortal."
  
  "I am not?" This was very good news, it was-
  
  "Most of the body is completely, one hundred-percent mortal, but the heart is a complex machinery of Orichalcum which must hold captive your essence."
  
  The revelation destroyed most of the last illusions she had held about anyone wanting her back on Olympus.
  
  "I suppose it is the God of Forges' work...this kind of creation is kind of unique." Yes, yes it was. "I suppose that as long as it is not destroyed, you are relatively safe...of course, should it be destroyed..."
  
  "Permanent death," Hera whispered.
  
  She had betrayed Zeus. She wasn't going to say she had done it regretfully. But for him to go that far, and so quickly...the adulterous, treacherous hypocrite must really have had some schemes ready well before the theft of the Master Bolt. One couldn't craft something like a Orichalcum heart in mere days. Hephaestus could craft wonders, but most of them took decades and sometimes longer to be completed.
  
  "Yes, permanent death...the fate of all mortal beings."
  
  Hera looked at her frail mortal hands.
  
  Staying like this was near unbearable. But returning as a Goddess, which had been until a few minutes ago the alpha and the omega of her goals...it didn't seem such a bright idea anymore.
  
  The fallen Goddess wanted to claim back the Throne she was owed by birthright.
  
  But.
  
  "There is no triumphant return to Olympus," she whispered in defeat. "Even if I claim back my Throne..."
  
  "You will be treated as a pestiferous asset, yes."
  
  Hera glared back at the green-eyed bastard.
  
  "And what is your solution, oh mighty sage of the 'Suicide Squad'? You said it yourself, the list of exploits I would have to fulfil to return to Olympus is likely one which would make the Twelve Trials of Hercules look tame! And if by a near-miraculous turn of events I succeed, I will be a second-rate Goddess, denied the influence and the privileges of my birth like Hestia was!"
  
  "Indeed," Perseus Jackson smiled evilly, "if you intend to return as the Goddess of Marriage."
  
  The eyes of the fallen Goddess widened in alarm.
  
  It was completely crazy. It had never been done...and for good reason.
  
  It was an act which would break countless laws of Olympus, including some of the most ancient and revered ones.
  
  And she had no choice anymore. Not if she wanted to be immortal again.
  
  "Your conditions," and this time, Hera knew her voice had the tonality of utter defeat.
  
  "You are going to obey my orders to the letter. If I am satisfied with your performance after a month of probation, I will pay for the rebuilding of your Barrack; repaying it will be taken on your spoils of war and any Quests' rewards you might receive. Until then, Barrack Two will be formally owned by the House of Poseidon, and you will have the privilege to inhabit at my sufferance. I will develop on the subject once I have drafted the final contract...and your identification papers."
  
  "Identification papers?" she repeated with a grimace. "I am Hera!"
  
  "Yeah about that..." the new mortal girl felt horror bloom in her chest. What kind of disaster had she fallen into? It was a nightmare! "If you are really dedicated to build a new story, you need a new name."
  
  Hera was pretty sure Perseus Jackson was lying.
  
  But when she cursed him with the most odious insults she had learned in her divine existence, the bastard simply burst into laughter...
  
  9 June 2006, Constantinople's Field of Mars, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The scene was surreal, Ethan could admit it freely.
  
  The Goddess Hera, turned into a mortal, was trying to go through a series of mud obstacles in order to boost her non-existent endurance.
  
  If the son of Nemesis was not watching it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it.
  
  But here she was. The 'acne-disfigured girl' - the moniker had spread extremely quickly - was crawling in a pond of mud, her mouth delivering a torrent of insults as her progression slowed and faltered.
  
  Some of them Ethan had never heard before. Hera had a very imaginative mind, when it came to death threats.
  
  "I wish I could say you corrupted her," the black-haired Demigod deadpanned, "but she was a hardcore bitch long before she met you. You're forgiven."
  
  "Your compliments warm my heart, my treacherous lieutenant." Their mad leader smiled carnivorously, making a sign to the gargoyle who held the sign 'UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE ALMIGHTY PERSEUS JACKSON' to take several steps aside so that several sons of Hermes had a better observation view of Hera's...muddy trial.
  
  "I'm sure they are." Ethan sighed. And to say once upon a time ago, he had thought a true rebellion against Olympus was the sane thing to do. "For the sake curiosity...is Hera going to be the new member of the Suicide Squad?"
  
  Many Questers had dismissed the idea as insane, but they didn't know Perseus like Ethan did. And when it came to the argument that Hera was useless, they easily forgot that the same thing could be said about Drew Tanaka. When the daughter of Aphrodite had joined them, her physical abilities had been equally pathetic. They still were in the domain of 'lamentable' right now, though steps had at last been taken to remedy to that.
  
  "Yes. But don't call her Hera anymore. Her new official identity is Antigone Barbara."
  
  Ethan whistled, as his powers of vengeance hissed the mythological connotations in his ears.
  
  "Antigone...I suppose for Antigone, the daughter of Laomedon the King of Troy...the Goddess of Marriages turned her hair into snaked before someone else cursed her to transform into a stork. And Barbara...the derivative of barbaros, 'the one who does not speak Greek', which eventually became 'barbarian' and a synonym of 'foreigner'. You really hate her that much?"
  
  "There is nothing like a new name to forge someone's character." The son of Poseidon quipped.
  
  Ethan Nakamura rolled his eyes.
  
  "You realise she will try to murder you the moment she regain her immortality and her divine powers, right?"
  
  "Interesting word 'regain'..." Perseus commented in a low voice. "It implies she will be the same when she ascends once more."
  
  "I would have thought you were going to use the word 'if', Jackson. The odds of Hera surviving a single year in a mortal body are so low, even with your protection, that even the Stroll brothers haven't found someone to gamble on it."
  
  He shouldn't have said that. Why had he voiced that in his presence?
  
  "That," the leader of the Suicide Squad said in this voice which had preceded the destruction of pretty much an entire part of the Underworld, "sounds like an interesting challenge."
  
  Ethan sighed.
  
  "At the risk of being the pessimistic lieutenant...what is the point, oh my glorious and tyrannical leader? I mean, I can understand having a Goddess in our debt, if you manage to turn her into someone more tolerant of Demigods. Her dictate of 'a marriage is between two individuals' being weakened doesn't really bothers me. But you can't transform her into someone she is not. You can call her Antigone, Hera, or Violet. But she isn't going to become one day from tomorrow the Goddess of Fire or Time, or the Seasons, or whatever you strike your fancy."
  
  "Wait and see, my treacherous lieutenant, wait and see...totally unrelated to our current situation, who do you think is the best archer at New Byzantium, discarding the Huntresses?"
  
  Ethan frowned.
  
  "The sons of Apollo, but why-" a horrible idea began to form in his head. "With Nightshade's departure, we lost an archer. You want that bitch to be her replacement?"
  
  The dark-haired Demigod didn't add 'are you mad?' The answer to that question was evident.
  
  "That's something I intend to prepare the ground for...though I am ready for more contingencies to be activated."
  
  Of course he did. Of course he did. And now Ethan was dreading the moment of their next Quest, because there was going to be one, it was as certain as Zeus fornicating with another mortal woman before the year was over.
  
  Zoë Nightshade hated men - not surprising once you had met Hercules once. But for all her countless flaws, she was a millennia-old veteran who had mastered archery. It was likely that anyone who was not Apollo or Artemis was inferior to her in that field. And Perseus proposed to replace her with someone who likely hadn't the physical strength to shoot one arrow straight at the moment this conversation was taking place.
  
  "Now, my drunken lieutenant," the son of Poseidon addressed Dakota nearby. "Please make sure our new recruit complete one more time the obstacle course. She is allowed to drink and eat once she has finished the last obstacle, but the period of rest between the two courses can't last more than ten minutes."
  
  "Tyrant!" the fallen Goddess exclaimed, before more insults any media would censor in a hurry.
  
  "Thank you, Antigone! Now, my treacherous lieutenant, I believe we have a series of War Games to watch..."
  
  The walk was not long. Perseus had paid for a few days the right to use this small section of the Fields of Mars, far away from the main facilities and major fortresses the Legionnaires built as part of their training exercises.
  
  And once they climbed over the stone stairs separating them from the source of the considerable ruckus, they could see them neatly.
  
  Ethan was a son of Nemesis. Throwing compliments was not in his nature.
  
  But watching the spectacle currently unfolding before his eyes...it was impressive, really impressive.
  
  On the fields of Mars, three entire Legions, more than twelve thousand Demigods and Legacies were manoeuvring and fighting purpose-built automatons spitting fire or brandishing enormous metallic pincers.
  
  Suddenly, it was like Rome had never fallen. The eagles of Imperial Gold shone under the sun, flamboyant with the power of Jupiter. The dreaded pilums were tearing apart the training enemies built by the children of Hephaestus and Vulcan.
  
  The iconic helmets and the rectangular shields were standing firm, and when it came to close-quarters fighting, the now-legendary short sword known as the gladius was drawn in numbers of thousands.
  
  This was a formidable weapon of war. One the Greek side of the city had no hope to emulate, even if their numbers reached the threshold required to copy the Romans, which they definitely did not.
  
  The Legates of New Constantinople had centuries of military tradition innovating in the art of battlefield tactics, and their discipline was peerless. By comparison, the Barracks of New Byzantium had progressively abandoned the idea of waging entire campaigns as field armies after the Ottomans overwhelmed the last bastions of the Eastern Roman Empire. When you fought monsters, increasing your numbers was not a good strategy.
  
  "A lot of spectators today," Perseus Jackson commented.
  
  "It is not every day the three Legions are present," Ethan replied in a neutral tone. Usually, there was a single Legion protecting the city, and the two others were deployed on the field and an Olympian personally paid their monthly income...that way the costs of paying them were not as considerable for Olympus as a whole. "The poor Fifth Cohort of the Twelfth is already lagging badly behind."
  
  "This is the Cohort of the son of Jupiter, isn't it?" the son of Poseidon asked with non-feigned curiosity.
  
  "Yeah," the son of Nemesis confirmed. "Those poor Romans have lost a lot of their veterans recently."
  
  "The luck of your mother?"
  
  Ethan Nakamura sneered contemptuously.
  
  "My mother had nothing to do with that. You have heard of Centurion Octavian?"
  
  "The Centurion of the First Cohort who believes he is the second coming of Princeps Augustus?"
  
  "The very same," he nodded. "He has arranged a lot of veterans' transfer with the current Legate and the Tribune of the First Cohort recently. And he made sure that those veterans of the Fifth who refused to serve under him took a sabbatical. As a result, at least three of the Fifth received novices in their ranks...and the Fifth, who was the main rival of the First for this War Game within the Twelfth Legion, received far more than regulations should tolerate."
  
  "If it is that evident, it is malicious action," the green-eyed Demigod clicked his tongue in disappointment. "So the Fifth is out of reach for victory...and I'm really disappointed in the Gods present for authorising this war travesty."
  
  Ethan didn't look in the direction of the four metres-tall beings who dominated by their sheer aura the battlefield. Mars and Hercules...well, those were Gods he wasn't going to spare against any time soon, militarily or verbally.
  
  "Travesty?" for once, he didn't understand the point Jackson was making. "This is a standard war game the likes New Constantinople has played hundreds of times..."
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, the point of this series of 'War Games' is to decide who to send to the Sea Monsters, the infamous Zone Mortalis where water is never far from you. Please explain to me how this training is adequately preparing the troops for the environment they're going to face."
  
  Ethan grimaced. It was true it was...suboptimal. The Legionnaires were staying far away from the river of New Byzantium right now.
  
  "This is just the first day," he tried in an unconvinced tone.
  
  "Yeah, this is just the first moronic day of war-gaming..." Perseus Jackson chuckled. "If they were serious about practising, they would have begun by organising a naumachia in the Coliseum...or they would be fighting on a few barges in the middle of the Bay of Byzantium. No, I correct my previous words...if they were a bit reasonable, they would first test how good the Legionnaires are at swimming, and then they would practise how well each Legionnaire fight with nothing but a swimming suit and a gladius."
  
  Ethan watched the leader of the Suicide Squad...and though the tone was acidic, the grin was absent and the eyes didn't shine with malice or glee.
  
  By the Pit of Tartarus, he was really serious.
  
  The son of Nemesis shivered.
  
  "The Sea of Monsters...is it that bad?"
  
  "I've never visited it, my treacherous lieutenant...only interviewed a few survivors who got out of it alive." The green-eyed boy watched the spectacle for a moment before huffing. "They all insisted how hellishly hot the Zone Mortalis was. The Demigods stupid to go in armour there either sink when they go overboard during monster fights, or they cook alive under the implacable sun."
  
  It was...okay, it wasn't a good predicament. And given how tense the relationships between Olympus and Atlantis were, it was improbable Poseidon would offer his full support for an expedition ordered by Zeus.
  
  "They will likely take into account the parameters you enumerated right now. It is just the first day."
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant...when the enemy order of battle inside the Zone Mortalis includes sea monsters bigger than the average skyscraper, you don't have a single day to waste. With my great powers of foresight as the Oracle of Tyranny, I predict a monumental disaster if they continue to train for a land war."
  
  10 June 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Perseus always slept soundly.
  
  He could say he was sleeping the sleep of the just, but it would be a bad pun, even for someone having low standards of joke, and he was holding himself to a higher standard than most Demigods.
  
  He was ready to swear him on Zeus' head, honestly.
  
  As a result, when he was woken at two in the morning - what a wonderful invention alarm clocks were - the former Tyrant knew there was something which had disturbed his sleep, and it wasn't his guilty conscience.
  
  The green-eyed Demigod was certain he didn't have one.
  
  It didn't take long to find the source of the magical disturbance. While its author had cast some shadowy spell to be as discreet as possible, the magical incantation had not been intended to prevent him from sensing something was wrong, quite the contrary in fact.
  
  Ex-Tyrant or no, it was out of the question to get out of the Barrack in nightclothes, even if the late spring's nights of early June were getting warmer and warmer. That it gave him a few seconds to think about the reasons why he was disturbed in the middle of the night was an added bonus.
  
  Thus it was in a relatively presentable Demigod attire he got out...a splendid purple shirt with a gold tie for the top, and black trousers under the belt.
  
  "Lord Hades," the Demigod who had named his group the Suicide Squad for the hilarity of it bowed respectfully as he left the mansion-sized building behind him. "An unexpected pleasure. What brings you at this ungodly hour?"
  
  And yes, it was the Lord of the Underworld who had chosen to visit New Byzantium.
  
  His appearance had changed a lot from the 'Royal King of Darkness' he had taken in the very heart of his domain. Now his appearance was the one of Lord of All Subterranean Wealth, as priceless rings adorned his fingers, a crown prompt to outclass all existing mortal coronation items shone malevolently upon his head, and the rest of his clothes were made of gold, platinum, silver, and Hades himself only knew how many hundreds of gemstones were there to support the rest. Minor concession, the God of the Hells was only two metres-tall, not the usual gigantic appearance immortals loved to impress non-immortals with.
  
  "I apologise for the...ungodly hour..." the lips of the God twitched slightly at the minor pun, "but I wanted to speak to you without my little' brother spies reporting every word of our conversation to Olympus without the hour. A lot of the information which is known to New Byzantium has an unpleasant tendency to be known to my siblings soon after it has been discussed. And Olympus itself, as I'm sure you are aware, is a nest of spies."
  
  Oh, Perseus knew indeed. He had been counting upon it during the last days.
  
  "In this case, what are the subjects you want to speak about, Lord? Future betrothals, maybe?"
  
  "Hardly," a thin smile returned to Hades' face, "given all the recent unpleasantness and the turmoil engulfing Olympus, I have decided to wait one year, using the noble traditions of Cthonia as my shield, before deciding to find a new wife...or giving a chance to the previous one."
  
  The immense shoulders of the God moved slightly.
  
  "I am not going to try to betroth my children for obvious reasons."
  
  "Yes, I'm sure Bianca would be far more sanguine about trying a usurpation repeat if you did that." And Perseus didn't joke about the matter.
  
  "Quite," the Rich One approved. "No, I have formally declared there will be no courtship this year in the Underworld. Unlike my little brother, I decided to be wise and proactive. Several proposals had already arrived before I revealed my intentions, of course."
  
  "One of them was a certain Goddess now having a sea domain, I'm ready to bet."
  
  "Yes," Hades chuckled, a sound which made the very night surrounding them shake to its very essence. "She thinks marrying me would decrease the bureaucratic weight of her new responsibilities."
  
  "How little she knows."
  
  "She is the Goddess of Hatred, not the Goddess of Wise Strategic Choices." Hades commented after a shrug. "As every Pantheon knows her reputation, my refusal will be acceptable to all. Other proposals are more...problematic."
  
  "Such as?" Perseus asked prudently. He still didn't know why Hades had chosen him for this series of 'ultra-secret revelations', but he had a feeling this was going to be the kind of mission that left no record and a high pile of corpses behind them.
  
  "The Titaness of Magic."
  
  "Ah."
  
  For those who hadn't followed, Hecate. Third-generation Titaness. Recognised Goddess of all forms of Magic, the Mist, Necromancy, and Crossroads.
  
  Officially, Olympus recognised her as a minor Goddess.
  
  Officiously, the Titaness was likely strong enough to challenge and beat any Olympian one-on-one. There was a reason why he had been able to make Lou Ellen Blackstone a redoubtable Demigoddess in mere days, and this wasn't just because his training methods were excellent.
  
  Yeah, this kind of 'proposal' couldn't be refused out of hand without creating unwise political quarrels.
  
  "I understand the problem, but I'm not sure what do you want me to do about it," the son of Poseidon said sincerely. "I have gained some influence over the children of Hecate courtesy of our adventure, but the choices of their mother won't be swayed by something like that. And ahem..."
  
  "No, I don't think it is a good idea to let you communicate with my ex-wife." Hades remarked. Fortunately, the God of the Underworld was amused by the unsaid proposal. "Given her recent defeat, she would try to incinerate you the moment you're in her presence. And I would rather not see my younger brothers begin the next world war so soon after we narrowly missed a new Olympianomachy."
  
  Hades' eyes burned like the flames of Hell. His face, fortunately, remained serene.
  
  "I want to understand Persephone's intentions."
  
  "Without trying to sound pessimistic, Lord, men have tried for millennia to do exactly that where women are concerned...and they have failed."
  
  His divine visitor laughed, and several flames burst into existence. Far away, packs of Hellhounds howled in joy under the moon.
  
  "You have a point, Perseus Jackson." The midnight-haired crowned King of Hell rumbled. "But in this case, it won't be necessary. I need you to contact another Goddess in my name. One I'm sure my former wife is extremely jealous of. And with my sister being her unreasonable self about her daughter, I'm sure this potential ally will be of immense help for your own ambitions."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad had a good idea of the deity's identity, but Hades was kind enough to confirm it by giving her list of titles.
  
  "I'm not trying to sound cowardly...but if I put the kind of plans I have in mind with this Goddess' help...there won't be any return backwards possible."
  
  "How kind of you to pretend," Hades said calmly, "that a return to the status quo is possible. Not when Hera is sleeping in your Barrack because my little brother threw a tantrum without considering the consequences of his actions...as usual."
  
  The Lord of the Underworld shook his head.
  
  "For better or for worse, the dice has been cast, to quote this ambitious snake of Julius Caesar." The next breath was darker than the shadows around them. "I can feel many factions converging on the Sea of Monsters. Souls I had been unable to claim are gracing me with their presence already. Prepare. As I'm sure you have already guessed, once my little brother's expedition to seize the Golden Fleece, it will be your turn to...how will he phrase it? Ah yes, it will be your time to prove your loyalty."
  
  Yeah, that sounded like Zeus. Saying he was favouring you while sending you against an army worth of monsters and in a Zone Mortalis where even minor deities were careful to avoid. Needless to say, the odds of success for those 'Great Quests' were ridiculously low.
  
  "Hera?" There was no need to ask more, in his opinion.
  
  "The marriage with my little brother turned her into something truly repulsive. Do as with her you wish...but don't kill her. If she can't be redeemed...the duty will fall to me."
  
  Hades didn't look at him anymore, and Perseus wasn't stupid enough to request oaths or assurances about something so important.
  
  "And you won't try to paint the Barrack of my children in pink. Not if you know what is good for you."
  
  Yes, in hindsight, there were too many spies in New Byzantium. He was really going to have to do something about it one of those days...
  
  11 June 2006, Hades' Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "No."
  
  "Oh come on, oh humourless Triumphant, it will be just a small artwork-"
  
  "You aren't going to paint this refurbished Barrack with a scene celebrating my ritual's failure, Jackson!" The daughter of Hades retorted angrily. "I may be unable to use my magic, but I have other ways at my disposal to kill you if you go too far!"
  
  "Fine, fine..." Lou Ellen giggled at the fake disappointed expression of the son of the Poseidon. "But I want it noted your Barrack would have been splendid if I was allowed to do that. This is something that won't be offered twice!"
  
  "No, you just annoy her every morning..." the young Nico di Angelo remarked.
  
  "Seeing you exchange barbs is becoming an amusing tradition of New Byzantium," Annabeth Chase intervened in a semi-amused voice, "but could we begin this meeting? I know no one but the Lord of the Underworld can spy upon us here, but a lot of people are going to wonder what new conspiracy a certain insane Demigod is planning if we stay for too long here."
  
  "I am not insane!" the automatic reply came within a few seconds. "It's just this poor world which refuses to obey my will."
  
  "Yes, completely insane," Dakota McDonald approved wisely. "But if we begin the meeting, aren't we missing Jake Mason?"
  
  "Jake won't come," Luke Castellan said, giving an ironic smile to Perseus. "For some reason, the son of Hephaestus believes he escaped a fate worse than death. Moreover, the Great Quest is officially over, and you delivered him his part of the spoils. I think he intends to build himself a new forge, and stay there."
  
  Lou Ellen watched attentively Perseus, but the green-eyed roguish son of the Seas was totally unconcerned about this defection.
  
  "It's too bad. I will need to find a son or a daughter of Hephaestus to replace him."
  
  "Replace him for what?" the blonde-haired daughter of Athena asked warily. "The Great Quest is over. The Olympians aren't going to plunge the world into the next World War so soon after narrowly beginning by the fault of a certain Lightning Thief."
  
  Bianca di Angelo glared at the grey-eyed girl, who ignored her superbly. The daughter of Hecate smiled in amusement at the sight.
  
  "I trust you haven't missed the news of the next Legionnaire expedition?" Perseus' grin was back in strength. "You know, the one everyone must be aware unless you're blind, deaf, and dumb, and have been living as a hermit in the middle of nowhere for the last days."
  
  "I am aware of it," Annabeth countered. "I know it is about Thalia and the Golden Fleece. And while I am angry the Master of Olympus is only bothering now to bringing her back because there are other claimants of the Great Prophecy, I also know it is a Legion's expedition this time. We are not Legionnaires, and even if we were, I am certain the Suicide Squad wouldn't be invited!"
  
  There were whispers of approval all around the black table of enchanted obsidian they were using for this gathering of Demigods and Demigoddesses.
  
  The daughter of Athena was often self-righteous and believed herself clever than everyone else, but this time she had told them a lot of good points.
  
  This time, it was the son of Nemesis who decided to kill their enthusiasm.
  
  "It's true we aren't invited. But you assume they are going to succeed."
  
  All positive mood in the dark-themed room vanished with an impressive celerity.
  
  "We're speaking about a Cohort," Annabeth said quietly, "or a double-sized one, if one of the First Cohorts is selected for the honour."
  
  "Yes," Perseus began in what was definitely a reasonable sarcastic voice for him, "in other words, they plan to deploy somewhere between five hundred and a thousand Demigods and Legacies to a Zone Mortalis. I'm sure the monsters and every potential threat will smell them one hundred kilometres away. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?"
  
  "Don't tempt Fate like that..." the Lightning Thief grumbled in a very irritated tone. "Couldn't they imitate what you did? Travelling through the Labyrinth in order to achieve strategic surprise?"
  
  "I don't think so." The Earthshaker's son replied very seriously. "First, there's the obvious fact we did it once. The effect of surprise has in great part been lost. Then there is the problem of the new Labyrinth Goddess. The Suicide Squad is in relatively good terms with her; the Legions can't boast the same thing. There are also a lot of complicating factors."
  
  "Factors like?" the new Annabeth Chase was taking notes from Jackson's discourse. Lou Ellen didn't know if it was something good or incredibly bad.
  
  "Factors like the fact that I have not discovered an exit which leads directly to the Sea of Monsters." Perseus admitted. "And I discovered many exits of the Labyrinth, believe me."
  
  Oh, the daughter of Hecate believed him all right. Between the Minotaur's help and his unpredictable actions, Perseus Jackson had discovered more secrets in a few years than most Children of Magic discovered in their lifetimes.
  
  "But even if by a miraculous turn of events they really have the proof and a vague idea where a Gate to this Zone Mortalis is, there's a massive problem: the Sea of Monsters is an archipelago with more than a thousand islands. Unless you have once again near-miraculous luck, you will need a ship to travel past the island where the Gates lead you to. And I can say it without too much risk of being wrong, no group of Questers or Legionnaires will be able to transport a ship through the deadly traps of the Labyrinth."
  
  "Yes," the daughter of Athena conceded formally her 'defeat', "any expedition will have to go by ship...the long way."
  
  "All right," Dakota McDonald drank from his flask and cleared his throat. "But why should we care about that? I mean, we gained a year of diplomatic immunity, right? And we have been paid a lot for the completion of the Great Quest. Each of us has received enough Drachmas to live the rest of our lives in a palace. We are...incredibly rich Demigods...and Demigoddesses. Why should we care if a Legion expedition succeeds or fails? I don't wish an unpleasant fate to the Legionnaires who will be chosen, but they will be all volunteers for this expedition. And if they fail...well, the Golden Fleece has been lost for centuries or millennia."
  
  Annabeth Chase gave the son of Bacchus a very unimpressed look. And Dakota amended his words in a hurry.
  
  "Yes, it's too bad for the daughter of Zeus. She's a victim in this affair. I'm all for trying to resurrect her. But you all saw what we had to face in the Labyrinth. I was quite mad by the end...though I blame Jackson and Hera for it."
  
  "Hey!"
  
  "Believe me," 'Antigone Barbara' muttered, "if I had known there was an outcome like that waiting for me at the end, I wouldn't have approved this plot of stealing the Master Bolt."
  
  Lou Ellen smiled at the discomfiture of the fallen Goddess. As far as was concerned, Hera had really gotten what she deserved.
  
  "Dakota has a point," the daughter of Hecate decided to speak while keeping most of her amusement out of her tone. "I'm not saying we won't join important Quests in the future, but it hasn't even been a month we are back. We have barely had the time to order wing expansions for our Barracks. We've not even begun to reflect our new status and amaze our poor siblings and cousins. I hope you have a good reason why we should risk our lives again, Jackson."
  
  "I have indeed one, oh cautious daughter of Hecate," Perseus Jackson gave her a charming smile...which fooled no one at the table. "No matter how much peace you wish, the Master of Olympus will wage war upon us."
  
  There were more than twenty of seconds of silence as the Demigods and Demigoddesses around the time considered the implications of this simple sentence.
  
  When it was broken, it was by the ex-wife of the Lord of Thunder.
  
  "Yes," Antigone Barbara, she who had been the Queen of the Gods, agreed. "He will try to kill us all. We are too dangerous and he is too paranoiac. The moment the Ancient Laws will not protect us anymore, he will strike."
  
  And that meant the year of diplomatic immunity was the extent Lou Ellen and every other Demigod of the Suicide Squad were 'safe' at New Byzantium. Unless they accepted another deadly Quest. Unless they were ready to risk everything once more by following an insane green-eyed boy in a Zone Mortalis, a place where most mortals had no chance of getting out alive.
  
  "We have quite a few days before a messenger of Olympus arrives to summon us, of course." Perseus continued in a lighter tone. "The Roman expedition has yet to depart, and they will at least a couple of months to reach the Sea of Monsters, never mind meeting the real opposition. But a lot of that time will need to be spent in real training. I will need to teach you how to perfect your existing skills, and massively increase new ones you have currently no clue how to use."
  
  "I am far stronger than I entered the Labyrinth, Jackson!" This wasn't exactly a challenge coming from Clarisse La Rue, but it was close to it.
  
  "Yes. And our enemies this time around will be stronger too. Make no mistake: it isn't only the Legions of Constantinople which have lost the element of surprise. The same can be said about us."
  
  Lou Ellen chuckled, despite the bad news.
  
  "Don't tell us you haven't some nasty surprises in your pockets, Jackson. We wouldn't believe you..."
  
  "Perhaps," the black-haired Demigod teased her. "But it will be more risky than the first time. And now I await your answer."
  
  12 June 2006, the New Golden Horn Shipyards, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The more he thought about it, the more Jason Grace believed he hated Octavian McArthur.
  
  The son of Jupiter had known inter-Legion politics could be treacherous, but there had never been an instance in the last couple of centuries when the Tribune of the First Cohort convinced the Legate to send away so many veterans from the most experienced Cohorts in such a random and inefficient manner.
  
  Sometimes Jason wondered how many traumatic and sad things happened in the head of high officers for them to take decisions that stupid.
  
  But there was no denying the truth. Tribune Bryce Lawrence, legacy of Orcus, commanding officer of the First Cohort, had a dreadful influence on the rest of the Tribunes and the Legion's leadership. And who had the most influence on this psychopath? Well, one could hazard the old families of New Constantinople figured in good place. Lawrence loved killing things and large gold purses to pay for his expensive hobbies.
  
  The little treacherous weasel who basked in his Apollo Legacy's lineage could provide him both.
  
  Just for that, Jason would have been inclined to stab him, but the bastard - in spirit - had not stopped there hadn't he? Eliminating the Fifth Cohort in the first stage of the War Games and sabotaging everyone save the First Cohort hadn't been enough. Preventing him from being sent with the heroes who would recover the Golden Fleece and save countless Demigods and Demigoddesses trapped into a comatose state - above all Thalia, his sister - wasn't enough.
  
  After their elimination, they had been barred from 'wasting the taxpayer's money for days' and told to pack their bags...only to be assigned to the construction yards of the New Golden Horn Shipyards, where they were supposed to assist in the construction of the new ships which would sail for the Sea of Monsters.
  
  It was adding insult to the injury.
  
  And yeah, Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, was really beginning to hate this treacherous toy-stabbing weasel.
  
  The worst part was that he couldn't even incite his fellow Legionnaires to do as little as possible. Only one Cohort would be chosen for the expedition - though the First Cohort was the size of two 'normal' ones - and while it was unlikely any other force from the Legio XII Fulminata could beat Octavian at this game of sabotages and betrayals, there were two other Legions who could best him.
  
  And even if it was the First Cohort of Lawrence which was chosen, they didn't deserve to die because their foremost psychopaths...pardon, their officers...were treacherous and unable to recognise rigging the rules wouldn't matter when they fought the monsters of the Sea.
  
  "According to the rumours," one of the new recruits, a large Asian-looking Demigod, began while heavily breathing as he participated in carrying a large metallic object, "Octavian has decided to build a ship something similar to the Ticonderoga-class Cruisers to serve as his flagship."
  
  "Octavian hasn't yet won the War Games." Jason grunted under the strain of carrying something so heavy. Was it how the slaves felt, millennia ago, when building the pyramids?
  
  "Oh, please, Centurion," the portly boy grunted as finally they placed the big thing on an ugly elevator which brought the steel machine...stuff...upwards in the incomplete structure of the hull. At this pace of activity, fortunately, the young teenager would be as muscled as a regular Legionnaire in no time. "Are we going to pretend there was any fair-play in the War Games?"
  
  "No," Jason grimaced, "but...Legionnaire Zong, is it?"
  
  "Legionnaire Frank Zhang," the Asian-looking boy saluted, not looking offended he had mangled his name.
  
  "Well, Legionnaire Zhang, it is true Octavian has rigged the game for our Legion. But he has two other Legions to contend with. And I doubt his tricks will work on them."
  
  "Gods I hope so," was the heartfelt reply of the inexperienced recruit, "if the rumours are true, the bastard intends to call his flagship the Ave Caesar."
  
  "It will be Lawrence's flagship," Jason smirked as they went to the other end of the shipyard, no doubt to use their 'talents' on something incredibly annoying, hard, or painful...why was he using the 'or' anyway?
  
  "Oh yeah...Lawrence's flagship."
  
  Personally, Jason found the name rather ridiculous...but maybe it was because the idea came from Octavian? By his father's Master Bolt, the name of Caesar was still as prestigious as it had been two millennia before...but the fact Octavian's head inflated every time he mentioned Octavian Augustus Caesar...yeah, that irritated him to the highest degree.
  
  Unfortunately, while their group walked fast, it wasn't fast enough to satisfy some people.
  
  "Faster, band of lazy excuses of Legionnaires!" Centurion Rico Kowalski of the First Cohort barked. "What are you waiting for? The flagship of the First Cohort must be ready per the Legate's schedule! Grace! Stop smirking! Your rank and your daddy won't prevent the punishments from flying if...look at me when I talk to you!"
  
  Jason didn't obey. Any other time, he might have, but not when an enormous wave slammed into the bay of New Constantinople...an unprecedented phenomenon for today, because there was only a slight breeze, and the Atlantic Ocean far out there was absolutely calm.
  
  The wave rose higher and higher...and many Demigods began to run away.
  
  "Hey! There is someone surfing on the wave!"
  
  Jason opened his mouth to tell Frank Zhang he had to stop saying ridiculous things...but before he uttered the first word, it became evident the new Legionnaire was saying the truth.
  
  And as the wave contorted impossibly and projected a lot of water but largely missed the dockyards, it was very obvious the being behind the exceptional phenomenon was divine. No one could ride a wave that high and survive...and no one would likely have the idea to try, in all likelihood.
  
  The wave disappeared fast, but its existence allowed the Goddess to jump on the pier effortlessly.
  
  And she was a Goddess. Only an imbecile would miss the sheer power she irradiated.
  
  She wasn't one of the usual visitors, that much he was ready to bet his monthly pay on.
  
  All Gods and Goddesses could change their appearance, but most had traits and behaviour which allowed Legionnaires and Questers to know who came, disguised or not.
  
  The son of Jupiter was pretty much sure that this Goddess had never been seen in his lifetime.
  
  She was...incredibly beautiful. She had arrived surfing, and she was dressed like an elite surfer. Of course, while the light green swimsuit she wore left only her feet and everything above her neck naked, the surfer-themed material hid nothing of her curves, which were...at this moment, Jason was sure he was liking girls.
  
  And her face...it was like feminine perfection had decided to grace them today. Her blonde hair and her green eyes were perfection and-
  
  "You stand," a dolphin they had not noticed, busy as they were to stare at the Goddess, proclaimed as its fins somehow handled the familiar banner of a green field and a golden Trident, "before the Goddess Rhode, Mistress and Protector of the Isle of Rhode, Light of Sea, Warden of the Eastern Aegean, Admiral of the Thirteenth Atlantean Fleet!"
  
  Jason Grace kneeled, making a sign to all other Legionnaires to imitate him. This was a Goddess he'd never met alright...and while he didn't remember in the briefings about Greek mythology they irregularly received, she was certainly a member of Poseidon's court. Not knowing what feuds and alliances existed between she and Olympus, the protocols insisted it was better to kneel first, and wonder about the political implications later.
  
  "Oh right," Jason was not surprised when he raised his head again that a single Legionnaire had not kneeled. Rico Kowalski had always tried to prove he was fearless. "You are the Sun's Widow, right?"
  
  The power of the Goddess was unleashed, and Jason closed his eyes. The smell and the sound of the sea were near-overwhelming. Even with his eyes closed though, it was like he was swimming in a world of blue and green, with sharks circling in the distance.
  
  At last, the power decreased before disappearing altogether.
  
  Jason still waited ten seconds before reopening his eyes. Just to be sure.
  
  And when he did...thank the eagles, the Goddess was walking away from them, her surfboard under her right arm. Jason rapidly turned his head away, because looking at the rear of a Goddess...err...she might take offense.
  
  "Ouch, my head! What happened?"
  
  Jason Grace burst into laughter as he saw what had happened to Rico Kowalski.
  
  The Goddess had not killed him.
  
  She had done something way, way worse.
  
  Where there was a brown-haired Demigod with a sharp nose...there was a talking penguin now.
  
  A really big, white-bellied, black-backed, penguin.
  
  "Ave, Centurion Penguin!" Frank Zhang managed to salute the right way before exploding in laughter.
  
  "You will be punished for this insubordination!" the furious Centurion...pardon the irate animal jabbered.
  
  Naturally, this made everyone explode in giggles or other forms of hilarity.
  
  "I for one, welcome our new penguin overlord! BWAHAHA!"
  
  "Is it possible to do push-ups when you're a penguin? Let's find out!"
  
  "What's a penguin favourite relative? Aunt Arctica!"
  
  In mere seconds, the dam of Roman professionalism was destroyed, and pier and dockyards became a gathering of laughing Demigods and Legacies, all trying to make penguin jokes and laughing at Rico Kowalski's predicament.
  
  "He looks like he's wearing a tuxedo!"
  
  The son of Jupiter tried to muster some compassion for the poor Centurion...and failed. When you didn't know how irritable a God or a Goddess could be, you didn't try to goad him or her into cursing you.
  
  "He's going to fly away! No, wait, it's a penguin!"
  
  At this rhythm, they were going to die of laughter before-
  
  "Why aren't you working? You have work, lazy excuses of Legionnaires! You dishonour the...why are you surrounding a penguin? And where's Rico?"
  
  If anything this made the growing burst into more desperate and uncontrollable laughter.
  
  "It's me, Michael!" The penguin jabbered.
  
  'Rico? Rico!" Michael Kahale, another Centurion of the First Cohort and son of Venus, looked completely flabbergasted. Which was...okay, it was kind of understandable, really. "How?"
  
  "It's the fault of this Goddess!"
  
  "Rico...what have you done?"
  
  "He threw in her face that her husband was dead!" one of the Fifth Cohort's Legionnaires who had witnessed the scene informed Michael with glee, "and the rest as they say, is penguin history!"
  
  Jason laughed with the rest of the crowd. It was horrible...but it was too funny.
  
  "Do you have any idea how much influence and money it takes to convince a Goddess to remove her curse?" Michael asked tiredly, not sharing the general hilarity. "I'm in the mood to throw you out of the Legion on general principle."
  
  "You can't do that!" the penguin agitated ridiculously his new fins! "I had a bad day okay! It isn't like two Goddesses will visit New Constantinople today, okay!"
  
  The words had just left the beak of the transformed Legacy when Jason realised it was getting cold standing out there. Really cold. Suddenly, the slim second-hand T-shirt he wore when he wanted to avoid dirtying his normal clothes was not so good for the summer weather.
  
  And in a few seconds, it got worse. It was like the late spring's warmth had decided to take holidays...again...and at an alarming rate, grey clouds replaced everything blue, and the water of the Bay looked like it was on the verge of freezing.
  
  One minute later, there was no doubt possible: snow was truly falling. The approaches to several civilian ships were truly frozen in newly created ice, and one could only thank Olympus that the new ships were in their dry docks...
  
  This time, the Goddess did not arrive by surfing. No, she skated on the ice...which had been summoned to this very purpose, Jason imagined.
  
  "Behold," the same dolphin who had heralded the arrival of Rhode resurfaced. Interestingly, he was bundled up in a white puffy jacket now. "Her Magnificent Divinity the Goddess Khione! Goddess of Snow and Ice! Marshal of the Blizzards! Herald of Winter! Holy Patron of the Winter Olympic Games!"
  
  The list of titles continued for a long, long time, leaving the assembly all the time they needed to form two parade lines on each side of the pier...and to kneel again.
  
  Khione was a very different Goddess than the first one they had seen today, but if she was an icy beauty, a mere glance at her expression was enough to dissuade anyone sane to try jokes and discourtesy.
  
  Hers was the power of the cold in humanoid form. The closer they were from her, the more intense the sensation of your blood freezing was.
  
  In appearance...the Goddess of Snow wore attire similar to what a figure skating athlete would wear...maybe? Khione looked like a young adult woman, may seventeen or eighteen of age, with impressive big curves, especially when it came to her breasts. Her hair was a lush black, tied into a bun. Her clothes accented this 'natural divine beauty', as she had chosen to come in a sort of black and white skating dress. Strangely, it conjured some sort of Cygnus-themed imagery inside his head. Half of her back was completely exposed...or so it seemed; in reality, there were near-transparent stockings and clothes adorning her. And to complete it, she had long opera gloves of grey colour hiding her hands.
  
  No one was stupid enough to voice some inappropriate comment as the Goddesses glided between them.
  
  Khione was acting as they were all unimportant, and weirdly, Jason Grace was incredibly happy she did.
  
  She was nearly two hundred metres away and nearly out of their working area when disaster struck. A patrol of the First Cohort had returned, and instead of prostrating themselves-
  
  "Hey! You have no right to be here! It was the will of Juno that-"
  
  There was a bright flash the very colour of ice.
  
  When it faded, there was no common penguin to laugh at.
  
  There was an enormous, adult, Emperor penguin.
  
  No one dared make a move or utter a protest...and then Khione raised her leg in a graceful pirouette.
  
  As the blade of the ice skate shone like an enchanted sword, Jason acknowledged that you didn't really need to hide a weapon under this revealing skating dress.
  
  The strike missed the newly transformed Legionnaire by inches.
  
  The Emperor penguin made an absolutely pitiful sound.
  
  Khione slapped him - merely a light touch for a Goddess of her strength - and then glided away.
  
  Needless to say, they all waited long minutes to make sure the Goddess was gone before making a comment again.
  
  "RICO! IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
  
  "IT'S NOT MY FAULT! AND WHAT YOUR TONE, DECURION JULIAN SKIPPER!"
  
  "Two Goddesses who have not been seen in decades...what the hell is happening?" Frank Zhang shivered, even as the warm weather returned and the ice faded away.
  
  "Let's the good side, we have now penguins in our order of battle!"
  
  "I resent that!" the Emperor penguin who until seconds had been a Decurion replied angrily.
  
  The insanity, long suppressed by the Goddess' terrifying presence, returned faster than a giant eagle falling upon his prey.
  
  "Can Emperor penguins serve in a Legion?"
  
  "Well, if we hire a Legion of them...Legion Penguinius? Pengus?"
  
  "Why not Legio Stupidus?"
  
  "I, for one, welcome our new Penguin Legionnaires!"
  
  This was too much for Jason and frankly everyone else. A second later, full-blown laughter was reigning everywhere.
  
  12 June 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Perseus sensed the Goddesses when they crossed the boundaries separating New Byzantium from the outside world.
  
  The ex-Tyrant wished he could say he was that good at sensing divine energy, but honestly, the 'visitors' were doing no effort whatsoever to hide their presence.
  
  "Sorry, Nico," he told the son of Hades he had just beaten for the fifth time in a row - for today, it went without saying. "It seems our next duel will have to wait for a few hours."
  
  "What?" the young black-haired boy looked at him suspiciously. "You're not trying to gain time again, aren't you?"
  
  "I would never dare," the green-eyed boy swore solemnly as his older sister the Dread Empress snorted loudly in disbelief. Who would have thought Triumphant had so little faith in him? "And by the way, Antigone, you should take a rest outside the Barrack. Now."
  
  For all his 'training' - or because despite his training, who knew, the fallen Goddess got on her high horse and her acne-ridden face contorted in a familiar expression of sheer stubbornness.
  
  "If you think I am going to fall into whatever trap you have ready for me outside, Jackson," the very mortal girl no longer reigning upon Olympus said, "you are completely out of...EEEK!"
  
  The sonorous exclamation at the end was spectacular...and well-deserved, for in a second, most fountains and sources of water of the Barrack suddenly diverted all their water to sprinkle the new recruit of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  "It's not my fault."
  
  "If you think-" the ex-Queen of the Gods spluttered as she looked more and more like a drowned rat.
  
  "I am the one responsible."
  
  The King of Atlantis must have given her the permission to enter, because he certainly didn't. Or was her divine signature similar enough to her mother to be recognised as a legitimate mistress of this Barrack? Interesting questions he would have to think deeply upon later...
  
  Later, yes. There was a golden-haired Goddess in his Barrack, and by the green eyes and the beauty alone, he could easily guess her identity.
  
  "How I am supposed to address you, by the way? Sister is a bit too fraternal, and High Divinity is a mouthful..."
  
  "Just so you know, I transformed a Demigod who had the gall to remind me I was a widow into a penguin."
  
  "I'm sure he really deserved it," Perseus approved while levitating a bottle of grape juice and two glasses. "May I offer you a drink, sister?"
  
  He really wondered if she was the Goddess of Surfers all around the world. Her appearance supported the idea she had the body and the mentality for it.
  
  "You're like father in the old days when he was utterly crazy," Rhode of Rhodes commented idly. "Yes, give me a drink. I have a feeling I am going to need it."
  
  "You! You tried to drown me!"
  
  One day, Antigone Barbara would learn she was now a very little fish in a very big aquarium.
  
  But today was not this day.
  
  "Don't flatter yourself, nuisance." The smirk was worth a nine out of ten, truly. "If I had tried to drown you, no one would find your body. Mind you, I don't think Olympus would investigate very hard. How does it feel to be mortal, Sacred Cow?"
  
  Ah yes, the unexplored field of bovine jokes. Why hadn't he tried it in the last days? Truly this error needed to be rectified as soon as possible.
  
  "I think she is going to ruminate on the issue." Perseus added innocently.
  
  "When I will have divine powers-"
  
  "You will incinerate me, yes, yes, try to be imaginative for once," Perseus gave a semi-apologetic expression to Rhode. "Sorry for the trouble. I am just beginning her training."
  
  "And she is in dire need of it."
  
  Perseus sighed internally and begun to distribute warm clothes, as the wave of cold hit his Barrack and several pools of water began to freeze.
  
  "Lady Khione," if Rhode had come as the Goddess of Surfers and Beauty, then Khione was the Goddess of Ice Skating.
  
  "Khione," the other Goddess present said neutrally.
  
  "The outcome of your Great Quest had many consequences, most of them negative for my domain," the Goddess of Ice spoke frostily, "if the Goddess of Spring refuses to go to the Underworld when the date of Autumn will come, there will be...repercussions."
  
  "I'm sure a Goddess of your power can easily handle the ex-Queen of Hell." Khione had often been ridiculed as a minor nymph, but his most basic estimate made today easily placed her as a hundred times more powerful as the deity the Suicide Squad had defeated.
  
  But of course, Persephone was never the true problem.
  
  "The spoiled daughter of the Olympians is no threat by herself," Khione replied, echoing his thoughts. "It is the support the Goddess of Agriculture is already ready to give her which is incredibly concerning. As far the Harvest Queen is concerned, with her daughter returned, there is no reason for Winter to exist anymore. And I can't stand against her."
  
  "How amazing...the third-rate Goddess admits she stands no chance against her betters!"
  
  Maybe Ethan Nakamura was right. Maybe 'Antigone' was truly going to get herself killed before his schemes came to fruition.
  
  "Please don't kill her," the son of Poseidon pleaded as Khione's aura flared into a snowstorm and Hera paled, suddenly realising the enormous mistake she had just made.
  
  "Do not give me orders, son of the Earthshaker."
  
  "I just want to avoid frostbites!" He said virtuously. "Maybe a light spanking? I'm told it has one hundred percent efficiency when the teenager is very naughty!"
  
  A truly evil smile appeared on the Ice Goddess' elegant mouth.
  
  "Yes...yes, it is an excellent suggestion...thank you, son of Poseidon."
  
  "Bianca, be a dear, and use the Barrack's camera. It will be an excellent well of blackmail in the future...I mean totally a source of fascinating information for the new generations of Demigods."
  
  The next minutes were extremely interesting. As he had not been certain her sacred animal was the cow, Perseus would have sworn Hera was associated to pigs, because the squeals she made were absolutely better than the animals under duress.
  
  Anyway, it left the Goddess of Snow in a better mood...and Hera prostrated on the ground.
  
  "Next time, watch your mouth, mortal," the daughter of Boreas 'suggested'. "Or maybe you are in need of another lesson? I haven't evacuated all my frustration that the last Olympics used so much artificial snow."
  
  "I don't think our uncle's plan is sound," Rhode remarked idly. "Really, Persephone is not the brightest Goddess to have ever lived, but surely she will notice the Lord of the Underworld has no interest in her."
  
  If he wanted to lead a successful insurrection against the Gods, something inevitable would be the creation of an effective counter-intelligence service. There were too many secrets around which weren't under his control.
  
  Thus Perseus did what he always did.
  
  He lied with a smile on his face.
  
  "Who cares?" the leader of the Suicide Squad feigned boredom. "I will support the Lord of the Underworld's scheme, whether it works or not is his problem. I am not his spiritual guide in marriage affairs. Unless Bianca wants me to, of course-"
  
  "NO!" Sometimes, Bianca-Triumphant was really too predictable for her own good.
  
  "Too bad. Anyway, I am after an alliance with the Goddess of Ice and Snow and the Protector of Rhodes. Since you're far more intelligent than the average deities fornicating on Olympus those days, I'm sure you've understood my Suicide Squad will be the second wave when the first assault to recover the Golden Fleece unavoidably fails."
  
  "You are going to die if you go there, son of Poseidon." Khione didn't seem to look forwards to it; she just told it like it was a fundamental truth.
  
  "She's right." The blonde-haired Rhode supported her fellow Goddess. "I'm ready to grant you that your natural Hydrokinesis skills will give you better survival chances than any other Demigod of this age. If this was a lesser Quest you were about to embark upon, you may even have a chance to get out of here alive with some treasure. But the Sea of Monsters of this era is the point of convergence of very powerful enemies, Perseus. If you go there, you will die."
  
  "If I go there without your support, I am certainly going to die," the green-eyed Demigod corrected with a smile. "But this won't happen."
  
  "Careful, mischievous brother," Rhode warned him. "I have been ordered to teach you advanced hydrokinesis. The methods were left at my discretion. I can break your bones every day and spar until you will regret your existence among the living."
  
  "Threats already, sister?" Perseus said in a falsely aggrieved tone. "There's no need for it. I just wanted to remark to you that the Sea of Monsters, courtesy of being one of the most dangerous Zones Mortalis, is a graveyard of old artefacts and prisons. Some of them are older than the Titanomachy. That is, if the rumours Asterius and I were able to acquire told us the truth."
  
  "The rumours you heard were certainly accurate," Rhode murmured. "But many of them have ancient protections. Protections no God or Demigod can get through on his own."
  
  His half-sister was an intelligent deity. Her eyes narrowed a fraction of a second later.
  
  Yes, a God alone would fail. A Demigod alone would fail. But mortals and immortals working together?
  
  Khione tried her best not to look too interested, however.
  
  "With those artefacts of legend, you could spectacularly increase your power and betray us when you don't need us anymore." The Goddess of Snow stared at him with her limpid blue eyes. As expected from the Goddess of Frozen Things, they were the essence itself of frost.
  
  As always, honesty was his greatest and most potent weapon.
  
  "Yes, I could." Except, of course, Zeus was his sworn enemy, and discarding allies when all it would do was delaying the final battle by a few years was really, really short-sighted. "Fortunately, I don't want to. And there is a little something called an oath on a certain Hell River...or is it a Hell Sea those days? I am ready to swear I will abide by the terms of our alliance on Her once we have ironed out the full treaty."
  
  This gave him their full attention, as he had hoped.
  
  "The Triumvirate duo of War and Love await you in the Sea of Monsters," Rhode warned him seriously. "As will Circe herself. And while I have no accurate information on the size of their fleets, the armadas will likely be massive. In addition to that problem, this is a Zone Mortalis out of time. There will be legends of the Sea and War ready to ambush you. They will want to prove that the Labyrinth was just luck. Many Gods, beginning with the Olympians itself, will want to ensure your crazy adventure in the Underworld was your last exploit."
  
  "Good!" The boy who had once been the Tyrant of Helike and usurped the throne from his righteous idiotic nephew gloated. "Very good! Excellent! It would be a real shame to triumph against mediocre opposition."
  
  "You are completely mad," Khione said, but for the first time, he heard a shadow of excitation in her voice. And just like that, he knew the Goddesses would be with him until they toppled Olympus...and who cared about making orderly plans after that?
  
  "I am Perseus Jackson. And the first part of my evil plan is about to begin."
  
  The Fates were against him. Zeus would try to kill him. Hera was absolutely useless. And once the Legion Cohort failed, no doubt he would be saddled with a crowd of incompetent wastrels who thought the Suicide Squad wouldn't live up to them.
  
  They were wrong. Oh, how wrong they all were.
  
  "I am going to the Sea of Monsters," he emptied his glass of grape juice, taking great care not to cough, this would be way too embarrassing. "And if all the fleets and monsters of this world stand in the way, they will be crushed."
  
  13 June 2006, Hephaestus Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  Hephaestus had decided he wouldn't go to Olympus today.
  
  Those Council's meetings were annoying...when there weren't frightening, of course.
  
  For some reason, his father and several of his siblings thought war was the answer to all their problems.
  
  Hephaestus told them it wasn't, but was someone listening to him? No. They always told him they knew what they were doing, no matter how obvious it was evident they weren't in control of anything.
  
  And they always insisted he developed dreadful weapons. It was always about killer-automatons and Celestial Bronze-tipped missiles. It was always 'Hephaestus, build me a submarine which can bring the end of the world in ten minutes'.
  
  Hephaestus was hardly the mathematician Athena was, but with half of the money the eleven Olympians forced him to accept so more devastating weapons were built, a lot of far more beautiful things could have been created.
  
  They could have ended world hunger. He had the plans and the technology to make this world into a paradise. There would be only peace, and pacifist innovations. His benevolent Artificial Intelligences would terraform the other planets of the Solar System while bright new minds would be given new bodies so they could study science, mechanics, and hyper-advanced technology for centuries without breaking apart.
  
  Thinking smaller, he could have spread around the plans for his new solar farms. Any family could have had a friendly automaton to help them when life was too hard and the flesh failed.
  
  But here too he had been denied.
  
  Hephaestus didn't understand why. Sometimes, he wondered if Olympus...no, he wasn't going to think about that.
  
  But with Hera, his awful mother, turned into a mortal and banished from Olympus, Hephaestus had hoped it was a new beginning.
  
  Unfortunately, it appeared he had been a bit too...hasty in blaming his mother.
  
  Oh, Hera was awful with everyone. Pretending the contrary would be stupid. But now she was gone, and the God of Technology had to admit, nothing really changed.
  
  Or if it changed, it was for the worse.
  
  "HEPH! BROTHER!"
  
  Hephaestus grunted in frustration. He had travelled to this Forge because it was half a world away from Olympus, and thus annoying siblings weren't likely to begin searching for him in this place.
  
  Once again, he had been wrong.
  
  He wanted to say the Ancient Laws were broken, but his brother was still outside of the Forge's boundaries, with the water reaching up the knees of his five metres-tall form.
  
  "What do you want, Ares?"
  
  Of the two essences who coexisted, Hephaestus vastly preferred Mars...not that he liked the Roman God of War. The Lord of the Legions was always spreading trouble wherever he went, stealing technology, and causing trouble, innovating for the sake of spreading bloodshed.
  
  But Mars was preferable to Ares.
  
  "I have business proposals." The bloodthirsty psychopath grinned, revealing irregular teeth which were blackened by the uncountable murders he had committed from the moment he was born.
  
  "No."
  
  And Hephaestus didn't say that because he could feel his brother had sex recently with Aphrodite. Why the God of War thought he hadn't machines to detect that, the God of the Forges was honestly baffled by his naivety.
  
  "The weapon order comes from Father."
  
  Staying in the water for so long was creating a large spot of crimson...Hephaestus didn't recognise the uniform Ares was wearing, but there was no doubt he must have launched another war.
  
  "Can he pay for his latest murderous projects?"
  
  One month ago, Hephaestus wouldn't have dared asking this very simple question.
  
  But it was before Hera stole the near-entirety of his father's treasury...and of course, as the punishment had been delivered first, his awful mother had zero willingness to cooperate when she was asked to return the billions of Drachmas.
  
  And the principal assets of her treasury were nowhere to be found, obviously.
  
  "Don't worry about that," Ares avoided a straight answer, "I am the one who is paying today."
  
  Hells. Half of his excuses to refuse him had just gone in ashes.
  
  "Fine. You can come ashore."
  
  Ares didn't waste time setting his bloody feet on his island, and an enormous boar materialised next to him, carrying several scrolls around each tusk.
  
  Unrolling the first document was enough to make him blink.
  
  "Why in the name of the Etna does he want a flying aircraft carrier? It's impractical, it's horribly costly, and when the counter-grav technology fails, it's-"
  
  "Who cares," Ares smiled carnivorously, "it's incredibly badass, and it will be an asset no Demigods will have a counter against! And the proper name is helicarrier!"
  
  This...this wasn't reassuring at all.
  
  "I thought I was supposed to help the Demigods. You know...the Legacies and the Demigods of the Legion who will be sent this way."
  
  Or had he missed something when his genitor squeaked about his poor daughter was the tragic victim of Hades' jealousy?
  
  "Yes, you will help the Legionnaires. But Father has imagined a superb scheme to get rid of this amusing Suicide Squad. They will be sent immediately after the Legion returns successful from the Golden Fleece Quest. That way, Poseidon won't be able to say this is a death sentence and using it as a pretext to declare war..."
  
  The calderas of every volcano in activity protect him from the stupidity of his father and his brother.
  
  There was only one answer he could give.
  
  "This is sheer folly. We have just avoided-"
  
  "Old insults have not been forgotten, brother."
  
  "You and I have very different ideas about the definition of an insult." And many Gods wondered why he was staying working in his workshops and his Forges all day.
  
  "Don't think about it too much! Our father approves and it is his will which-"
  
  There was an enormous blast of loud music, and in a second, the waters surrounding his island went from 'absolutely empty' to 'crowded with warships'.
  
  "By the ghosts of D-Day..."
  
  This was not a small fleet which had managed to hide under an illusion until his un-cloaking systems pulverised the magic.
  
  In fact, it was absolutely enormous...and disparate.
  
  Enormous Battleships coexisted with Galleons of the seventeenth century. There were modern Destroyers preceding Antiquity Triremes. Converted merchantmen of the Middle Ages sailed with designs which couldn't be older than one hundred years.
  
  And all of them were flying a flag of red and gold. The red was for the field; the gold was for the ram and the Egyptian Ankh above the animal.
  
  "Ha! Ha! Ha! I don't know how they thought coming here would solve their problems!" Ares laughed. "But their suicidal challenge is accepted! If the Triumvirate wishes to die here, they are welcome to-"
  
  A large wave struck his brother, ending promptly his arrogant self-congratulating monologue.
  
  Hephaestus unleashed his flames, and just his time, as another wave came for him. When the two opposite elements clashed, steam was created...which also had the unfortunate effect to destabilise many of the automated defences of his island.
  
  "You are not going to get away with this, Poseidon!" Ares roared, as he escaped the aquatic attack trying to strangle him. "I am going to-"
  
  More power than Ares and himself could use in a single day surged near where they stood.
  
  In a couple of seconds, an impossible quantity of water coalesced into a humanoid shape.
  
  Ares froze.
  
  And Hephaestus didn't blame him.
  
  For unless Poseidon had decided for some reason to dress like a woman in an old-fashioned pirate movie, completed with light green hair and a cohort of black-coloured dolphins for escort...this was not Poseidon.
  
  It couldn't be.
  
  And as the sheer aura of divine power grew stronger, the God of the Forges knew who they were facing.
  
  "Thethys..."
  
  They were facing the Titaness of the Seas.
  
  They were so screwed.
  
  "DIE!" His brother struck ruthlessly...and the explosion was phenomenal. Alas, when it faded, it was obvious that despite being completely accurate in its aim, it had done no damage whatsoever.
  
  This was bad. Hephaestus tried to flee his island as fast as he could. Ares might think fighting a Titaness two-on-one was a good idea, but Hephaestus was sure it wasn't.
  
  They needed reinforcements, and they needed them yesterday-
  
  His attempt to take his travelling divine form crashed into a wall of water.
  
  "I'm sorry, Hephaestus, but I can't let you escape."
  
  The God of Technology transformed his crutches into anti-tank guided missiles and faced the Titaness as the Triumvirate Legion began its amphibious assault.
  
  And to his great horror, he recognised the warmonger leading them.
  
  The old face was not an Emperor. He wasn't even an Emperor's son.
  
  But he was a Triumvir, both millennia ago and now.
  
  "Marcus Antonius..." history remembered him under the name of Mark Antony those days, of course. The name of the female consort he had chosen to stand by his side was so evident Hephaestus didn't bother uttering her name. "You have allied with vile mortals, oh Titaness of the Seas."
  
  "How amusing," Thethys raised a pirate sabre in the air, "that after everything you did, you still try to pretend you stand for something principled and good."
  
  And then Hephaestus remembered who had been the substitute parents of his awful mother ages ago.
  
  Oceanus. Thethys.
  
  "Of course...it is always Hera's fault!"
  
  Hephaestus fired the entirety of his Forge's defensive missiles, and the true battle began.
  
  Author's note: And with this (huge) update, the Arc 2 of An Impractical Guide to Godhood begins!
  
  As readers will likely recognise, the schemes of Olympus have just been shredded. This was not part of the plan...
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
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  Prisoners of Immortality
  Chapter 13
  
  Prisoners of Immortality
  
  "No one ever said challenging the Gods was a safe hobby. That's half of the reason I'm doing it, to be honest." Attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  14 June 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Bianca only managed to enter the Barrack of Poseidon once Zoë the Hellhound had profusely licked her.
  
  This was why naturally her first destination was the big fountain, in order to clean what could be cleaned. Bianca would love to say she was going to remove her Hellhound-smelling clothes, but the same Underworld-born would wait for her on the way back.
  
  More than once in the last days, the former Dread Empress wished she had known better than to say the four-legged female dog would take her orders over those of Poseidon's bastard son.
  
  All the while the black-haired boy feigned to not notice her presence as he sunbathed on his green-blue deck chair, drinking his lemonade in a crystal glass.
  
  "Enough playing, Jackson!"
  
  This was apparently the wrong to say, she realised it a second too late.
  
  "My dear, it is you, not I, that I could see playing with Zoë until a minute ago."
  
  Bianca gritted her teeth. As always, trying to give orders didn't result in anything intelligent or useful. And unfortunately, the daughter of Hades couldn't even slap him; his damn hydrokinesis parried any strike long before they could touch his skin.
  
  "I want to know what your future plans are."
  
  "I have many, many plans!"
  
  "The Sea of Monsters, Jackson!"
  
  "Ah, those plans..." the green-eyed Demigod yawned in what was absolutely an exaggerated fashion. "No."
  
  "No?"
  
  "No. Believe me, knowing them in advance would absolutely ruin the fun."
  
  "I am the most powerful and experienced Demigoddess of this Quest!" Bianca seethed. "My advice is absolutely critical before you begin making permanent plans!"
  
  "This is a very illogical reasoning," Perseus Jackson once again yawned, before drinking the rest of his lemonade. "Your plans, if you will excuse me the rudeness, suck, your Most Dreadful Majesty."
  
  "My plans are genial!"
  
  The daughter of Hades received in turn a look which was definitely promising an ocean of mockery.
  
  "I conquered Calernia in ten years! Can you boast having conquered a continent during your Tyrant's life?"
  
  "No," the infuriating black-haired boy said cheerfully, "but it would have been way more impressive if the conquest in question had not been lost in five years..."
  
  Bianca grimaced internally. Of course he was making that kind of argument...
  
  "My plans work. If not for your intervention, my ascension as a Goddess would have been assured!"
  
  "Yes, it would have," temporarily, a smile formed on her lips, "and you would have forged a perfect prison for yourself in Hell."
  
  "What are you speaking about?"
  
  "My dear," Perseus abandoned his glass to the gargoyles before slightly modifying his sunbathing position, "you didn't take a lot of things into account for your plan. By focusing on a victory and neglecting everything else, you built the foundations of your downfall...again."
  
  "I would have been the ruler of the Underworld, and have all its armies following my orders to the latter. Olympus would have trembled seeing my undead regiments emerge on the mortal plane."
  
  "Yes, they would have...and to resist the threat, they would have united like never before. By presenting the first and credible threat in millennia, you would have instantly given the Olympians a threat to reform their crumbling order."
  
  "I had Hera on my side," Bianca said peevishly.
  
  "No, Hera was fulfilling her vengeance dreams...and she would have betrayed you as soon as it was convenient for her own ambitions. Frankly, the outcome of the divine war you would have unleashed...you would have been banished back to Hell, except unlike your father, you would have no chance of leaving it anymore. And since you were an unknown force in the tapestry of the Pantheon, the usurpation of the Dark One's power would have moulded you into a second copy of your genitor, albeit one which would be female and have some additional sorcery knowledge. Nothing more, nothing less."
  
  Her fists tightened until it hurt.
  
  Bianca wanted to scream he was wrong, and that her plans were perfect. She wanted to slap him and prove by a vigorous monologue that she had accounted for everything.
  
  Unfortunately, she couldn't. The truth was, the former Dread Empress had indeed spent countless hours preparing for her ascension, and not much for what came after. After all, since she was going to have all the gold, the resources, the armies, and the influence of her genitor, why would she make small arrangements when the Underworld would be hers soon?
  
  This...this may have been a mistake.
  
  Bianca breathed out.
  
  "Assuming you are saying the truth...couldn't you have found a way to save my reserves of Orichalcum? This had an incalculable value, and it is the only method of immortality a Demigoddess can possibly acquire easily-"
  
  "Ha! Good one!" The daughter of Hades frowned. "Haven't you heard what Luke Castellan was sent stealing a few months ago? A golden apple of the Garden of the Hesperides! Assuming you haven't heard, your Most Dreadful Majesty, they bring immortality to the mortal soul who eats them."
  
  The son of Poseidon gave her a splendid and malicious grin.
  
  "So please, oh Mistress of Dark Spells and Demonic Secrets, don't tell me there is a single method to gain immortality."
  
  As Dread Empress Triumphant, she had been caught flat-footed very few times. During this second life, and especially since her ritual went awry, it was happening all the time...and she blamed the Demigod in front of her.
  
  "Is it really so simple?"
  
  "No," Perseus acknowledged, "eating a golden apple gives immortality and eternal youth, but you don't gain anything else. If you are a weak Demigod, you will be condemned to be a very weak deity with no domain of note and a list of prerogatives more fitting for a beggar than a ruler."
  
  The green-eyed boy shrugged.
  
  "As far as immortality methods go, it has potential, but I think there needs to be...improvements added to it. And one can't forget there is a not-so-gentle one hundred-headed dragon guarding the tree where those golden apples are growing, of course!"
  
  "Of course," at this rate of insanity, Bianca feared she was going to become insane long before celebrating the four or five years-birthday of her evasion from the Lotus Casino. "Then tell me. If the Orichalcum is unavailable and my chances to usurp the Lord of the Underworld are doomed to failure, should I try to usurp a throne which is not associated with darkness or the realm of the dead?"
  
  "I think," Perseus Jackson answered in a tone which conveyed for the first time some seriousness, "it wouldn't be prudent at all. Even if your ascension was interrupted, the ritual began and left an invisible mark which wasn't removed. Furthermore, you bathed in all the rivers of the Underworld. This reinforced the symbolism and the ties to Hell. And of course you were already a child of the Rich One..."
  
  Perseus Jackson didn't say she should have considered her options for far longer before trying to usurp her father. But his green eyes said it for him.
  
  "What is done...is done." Bianca cleared her throat.
  
  "Excellent answer!" the son of Poseidon congratulated her. "Now, you have two possible paths ahead of you. The first is to try to boost your power and try to forge a new ascension as the Goddess of Hellish Sorcery, Necromancy, Dark Arts, and all that gory stuff the mortals think of when they utter the words 'black magic'."
  
  The former Dread Empress blinked.
  
  "That's a possibility?"
  
  "Yes, it is." The younger Demigod assured her. "Magic is an incredibly broad field, and the Titaness of Magic has an eye on your father's hand, so your ascension would have a chance of being approved very quickly, possibly within the decade."
  
  "And the disadvantages?"
  
  "Well, the fact magic is impressively versatile and powerful domain in its own right...there are major and minor Goddesses both in the realm of the dead and the living. Depending on how you played your cards, you would be a servant or a minor player in their games...and you would be likely forced to swear allegiance to the mother of Lou Ellen in very short order."
  
  Instinctively, her mind rebelled at the idea. For all her two lives, Bianca had tried to climb up to the greatest throne imaginable, it wasn't to be the servant of someone with no hope of breaking the status quo. She could tolerate having powerful allies; she wasn't going to end up as someone slave. It was better to be the ruler of Hell than a slave in Heaven.
  
  "This first path is unacceptable." The daughter of Hades declared. "What is the second?"
  
  "What did you to say to the Lightning Thief, Jackson?"
  
  "Absolutely nothing of importance, I assure you, lovely daughter of Aphrodite!"
  
  Drew knew it was a lie the moment she'd heard it.
  
  "I know that's wrong. She wasn't even paying attention to the fact Zoë was licking her hands. By the Pit, the girl even petted your Hellhound! She wouldn't do that unless she was lost in her thoughts." The dark-haired Demigoddess took a deep breath. "I seriously hope you did not push her to do something stupid, like stealing another major Symbol of Power."
  
  "Would I really do that?"
  
  "Yes, as long as it is entertaining," the daughter of Aphrodite said as she removed her sandals and let her feet plunge into one of the small pools which seemed to be everywhere inside the Poseidon's Barrack. As the warmth of summer began to take its toll, the structure was a fresh source of cold which was worth its weight in gold. "Oh, and that it hurts some Gods on Olympus, I suppose."
  
  "You, members of the Suicide Squad, are beginning to know me entirely too well," Jackson said, as he imitated her, his feet and half of his legs being immerged within a couple of seconds. "We need to step up your training, Drew."
  
  The son of Poseidon calling her by her first name made her abruptly pause. Fortunately, she soon found a retort.
  
  "Truly? And what sort of physical torture I am going to endure? Spear? Axe?"
  
  "I was thinking about daggers," the green-eyed boy smirked, "long daggers, to be precise."
  
  As always with Jackson, the turn taken by the conversation was not predicted beforehand.
  
  "What?"
  
  "Long daggers, yes," the Demigod began to manipulate water so it formed a dolphin shape in his hands, "you may continue to practise your bow, but let's face it, right now your best weapon is Charmspeak; this is what I will train you upon for several weeks. You don't need more than a long dagger after that if you are able to convince your opponent to bare his throat in your presence."
  
  Her imagination had no problem conjuring the vision of a man advancing towards her with a stupid expression and a shower of blood erupting.
  
  Drew Tanaka shivered.
  
  "Yeah, but that strategy won't be always possible in the palaces the Suicide Squad's adventures will lead us too and that you seem bent on destroying. And I'm not even speaking of a battlefield."
  
  "That's a good point," Perseus Jackson conceded.
  
  "And let's be serious," the current holder of the Belt of Briseis stared directly at the green eyes, "with a dagger and Charmspeak, I'm useless against any immortal enemy."
  
  "You want to be immortal, daughter of Love?"
  
  Drew hesitated, before saying words which would have been unthinkable for her months ago.
  
  "I did once for all the wrong reasons. Now I want it again, because I think it is the only way we will manage to survive to celebrate our twentieth birthday."
  
  "Then you are far wiser already than many immortals," her leader complimented her genuinely, before his expression took a far more dangerous and feral expression. "That said, you're absolutely correct that sooner or later, the survivors of our little party must become immortals if they are to survive. When I named our group Suicide Squad, it was not entirely by jest. Though I remained confident some of us would survive the Quest to find the Master Bolt, the Olympians and the rest of the opposition will know no rest until we are killed. In the short-term, they may give us a few months of indecent wealth, decadence, and outrageous parties. In the long-term however, they will send us to glorious and deadly Quests until one is our doom, or some beings on Olympus will use the absence of diplomatic immunity and strike. In both cases, they win, we lose."
  
  The water Perseus manipulated fell again into the pool with a loud splash.
  
  "Anyway. If you really want, I can forge you a path where your actions will lead you to an apotheosis as the new Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon, Lady Drew Tanaka. You will have to train with your bow from dawn to dusk, though."
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite felt a headache coming, as typical when one tried to fight against the madness spread by the son of Poseidon.
  
  "I thought this throne has already a Goddess fulfilling the basic obligations...and a usurper Empress aspiring to be a Titaness too, now that I remember this little party in the Circus Maximus."
  
  "Details," Perseus Jackson rolled his eyes, as if Artemis and Julia Drusilla were absolute nonentities in terms of divine might and influence. "Unlike them, you would be far more in synchronisation with the powers of the Moon where love is concerned, since the Olympian Goddess is a virgin, and the aspiring God-Empress has only a single lover."
  
  Drew nodded, but she heard everything that wasn't said too. So far, her only lover had been Achilles. Taking different lovers Quest after Quest would lead her onto a road where she was going to be...very much like her mother as far as men were involved.
  
  And if the Asian-looking Demigoddess was honest with herself, she didn't want that.
  
  And there was something else.
  
  "I am not sure I want to walk there. And while a bow is one of my best weapons, I am neither exactly excelling at it, nor dreaming about wood targets and arrows in my sleep. Archery is something I am familiar with, but it's also something I can do without."
  
  As the words passed her lips, Drew knew it was truly her honest feeling, not a pathetic excuse.
  
  "If this is what you feel, then it is best to stop there," Perseus agreed surprisingly easily, before smirking when he saw his surprised expression. "What? I won't force anyone to become something he or she doesn't want to be as an immortal."
  
  It was quite telling the mad Demigod added 'as an immortal' at the end...
  
  "Yeah, because you don't want to deal with an endless grudge from one of your treacherous opponents," the noise the Demigod made could be approval or something else; Drew didn't really care. "And before you propose it, I'm not exactly in the mood to plunge myself into a sarcophagus of pure evil like the Lightning Thief was so eager to do."
  
  "Good to know, but with said sarcophagus in the possession of the Lord of the Underworld, I haven't the Orichalcum necessary for a repeat of that plan anyway. No, what I have in mind avoids boring repetition of usurpation. As I mentioned before, they are old prisons the Olympians have erected, and some of them are in one Zone Mortalis or another, because mortals are curious, and well-protected Seals can still be destroyed if one idiot is able to concentrate enough explosives in a single location."
  
  "And the one you want me to open is in the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "Precisely," Perseus grinned.
  
  Drew was opening her mouth to ask as for the identity of the prisoner and why Perseus thought this would help her when the sky over New Byzantium went from a perfect blue to being covered in clouds the colour of midnight.
  
  "That's...you didn't have anything planned to antagonise him, Jackson?"
  
  "No," the son of Poseidon loudly sighed. "We really live in unpredictable times...and whatever happened again, it's not my fault. I can only blame Hera..."
  
  Yes, why would she expect him to blame someone else?
  
  14 June 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Yesterday, Apollo had been convinced the future looked bright. The odds of a civil war were getting slimmer and slimmer as the number of Olympian parties increased. His worries about Zeus taking Persephone for wife were apparently for naught; his genitor had just decided to go fornicating with Nike.
  
  While it was not necessarily a good judgement in his opinion - said Goddess was a fury in bed, but also outside of it when she felt scorned - at least the God of the Sun had his reassurance the Master of Olympus wasn't going to abandon his womanising ways for any Goddess, whether she was his daughter or not.
  
  There were plenty of other reasons to celebrate life, of course.
  
  And then this morning the summon for an emergency council meeting had disturbed him as he rode his radiant Lamborghini.
  
  It took only mere seconds to arrive on Olympus, and about half a minute to reach the Council Room.
  
  Apollo already knew it was going to be bad. The thunderous clouds were absolutely massive, and the lesser Gods and Goddesses he met were doing their best to stay away as far as divinely possible from the heart of Olympus.
  
  It was only when he saw the two empty Thrones that the God of Poetry and Music understood it was going to be really, really bad.
  
  As Hera's Throne had been removed from the Olympians' seat of power, there was no conceivable reason why any throne should be unoccupied, not when Dionysus always arrived last, and his half-brother was behind him.
  
  Hephaestus and Ares should already be here, the latter trying to antagonise the former...and everyone else. The God of War may be another of his half-brothers, but he wasn't someone Apollo spent his time with.
  
  "Athena," Zeus' voice boomed in 'angry mode', and just like that, all hopes that this month and the next would be peaceful were ruined beyond doubt. "Give me your report."
  
  "Yes, father." The Goddess of Wisdom answered. "About eleven hours ago, Forge MP-42, one of the main industrial complexes owned by Hephaestus in the Sea of Monsters, was attacked and conquered by enemy forces. There exists enough data and evidence to confirm between forty and sixty percent of the naval assets involved were mustered by the self-proclaimed 'True Triumvirate' of the Roman traitors."
  
  "The defences of the God of the Forges are methodical and powerful," his little sister said with ill-grace. "They should have delivered a devastating defeat to any invading force, especially if most of it was involving mortal Legionnaires."
  
  "It should," Athena's gave the slightest alteration to her voice, "except the 'True Triumvirate' Legionnaires have found some unexpected support from the Titaness of the Seas."
  
  Apollo gaped, and the feeling of shock was shared by at least half of the Council.
  
  "What? There must be a mistake!"
  
  "There was no mistake," the Goddess protecting Athens since the Antiquity continued emotionlessly after his outburst. "Ares and Hephaestus were present on the island of Forge MP-42 when the attack began. They tried to counterattack, but all evidence supports the fact they have been defeated and taken prisoner by Thethys after a one-sided beating. The three mail-automatons Hephaestus managed to break through the barrier of waves blockading his domain in the Sea of Monsters were heavily damaged, and I needed many hours to decipher the information into a barely-usable format. In the mean time, none of my attempts to establish communication contact with Forge MP-42 and my two brothers have been successful. Logic dictates Ares and Hephaestus have lost the island as well as their freedom."
  
  The Goddess of Owls and Olive Trees could be a very cold strategic at the worst of times, but no matter how emotionless and frigid she could be, Apollo didn't have an argument to say she was wrong.
  
  The thrones of Ares and Hephaestus were absolutely empty, and since they would have come in Roman forms if they'd been able to, it implied the entirety of their essences had been captured.
  
  Naturally, there was a lot of screaming and other sonorous explosions after. It quite reminded him the theft of the Master Bolt...except this time, it was far, far worse. A symbol of power going missing was not good, but it had happened from time to time in history; there always were some thieves who set their eyes on the biggest prizes of their Pantheon. But two Olympians captured on the same day? It was a catastrophe of a magnitude rarely seen since the Fall of Troy.
  
  And that it was a Titaness who had handed them such a defeat was immensely frightening too.
  
  "SILENCE!" His genitor roared as the ruckus didn't appear to decrease in the slightest. "SILENCE!"
  
  At last, some measure of calm returned...but by the expressions on everyone's face, it was obvious the astonishment and the violent emotions were simply temporarily placed out of view, not forgotten.
  
  "You will behave as Olympians worthy of this Council," the Lord of Thunder spoke grouchily. "Now that you are aware of the situation, I want to hear your ideas as how to the armies of Olympus will react. Athena?"
  
  "We must immediately cancel the Quest for the Sea of Monsters and place all our divine forces on a war footing," the Goddess of Architects and Strategists promptly answered. "This is not a matter for Legionnaires and other heroes anymore; a Titaness is an opponent they have no hope of defeating on their own. And the Sea of Monsters has not been claimed by any deity, for all the islands who are holidays resorts of someone. Immortals can fight there; I say we muster our armies and bring the fight to the ruler of the Coral Palace."
  
  "I am not confident there will be any support among my Atlantean subjects for this course of action," Poseidon shook his head while caressing his beard. "It it had been her husband, it would be different, but she is very popular."
  
  "One might say you were far more enthusiastic when your reputation was in question, brother."
  
  "And one might say you are too eager to see insults and proof of treachery when they are none, brother." The God of Earthquakes gave a very non-brotherly glare to the Master of Olympus. "I will not risk a civil war beneath the surface of the waves before we are given more evidence than broken mail-automatons. She stayed neutral for millennia. Why would she change her near-eternal stance for treacherous mortals unworthy of prostrating themselves before her?"
  
  Poseidon's Trident struck the floor, and an enormous wave later, the ruler of Seas and Oceans was gone.
  
  "Without his might, a war in the Sea of Monsters present considerable risks," yeah, Athena, continue to state the obvious...
  
  "Given the...sub-optimal state of Olympian finances Hera is responsible for," the Lord of Thunder's teeth were gritting and projecting blue sparks everywhere, "it is best we refrain from declaring war, at least for the next few months. The Titaness is clearly the aggressor here. We will use the Ancient Laws to our advantage; the Demigods will be given a Quest to free Ares and Hephaestus. Avoiding direct confrontation, it will be the mortal Roman traitors against our Legions, and the training of our loyal Demigods will triumph once more."
  
  Dionysus grimaced in a very obvious manner after reading one of the messages thrown by Athena.
  
  "You disagree?"
  
  "If the information is true, the opposition will be led by traitors who have fought at Actium in the past, father. Is it really a good idea-"
  
  "They lost at Actium!" The Master of Olympus said impatiently.
  
  "Err...yes, they did. But we had Agrippa, a military genius in charge of the Navy which defeated them. And they weren't supported by a Titaness..."
  
  "Don't tell me," Artemis sniffed disdainfully, "that you want this ungrateful son of Poseidon and his ridiculous company of murderous idiots to command the Legionnaires in the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "In fact, that's exactly what I was going to suggest," the God of Wine emptied his golden cup several times after saying the words. "They have the experience of surviving a Zone Mortalis. Their leader is a son of Poseidon, and last time I checked, the Sea of Monsters has a lot of water. And they also inflicted a significant defeat against one of the delusional 'God-Emperors', why not a second?"
  
  "It is," Zeus spoke in a tone where his anger was roused and deafening in its intensity, "completely and totally out of the question. I will not rely on a band of potential traitors to fight other traitors. I will not give the son of Poseidon the opportunity to twist my orders and disrespect my authority while abusing of the Ancient Laws for his disloyal ambitions. The survivors of the last Great Quest are staying inside the boundaries of New Byzantium. This is not debatable."
  
  Apollo cleared his throat before intervening.
  
  "In that case, father...may we not remove a few goals from the list of 'to-do-things' for the expeditionary force we want to send? The Sea of Monsters is an immense archipelago, and if the Titaness we are concerned about really solidified its presence around the Solomon Islands like Athena said, this will be an immense sea zone to search for. Expecting a Cohort based on half a dozen ships to confront enemy fleets and sea monsters will be perilous enough; if we ask them to go for the Golden Fleece, I fear it will be far too much, no matter their motivation and their loyalty."
  
  "Apollo is right," Venus gave him a sultry look, returning in her purple armour as she picked a strawberry from a basket of fruits and ate it with an ecstatic expression. "And we mustn't forget that if it is really Marcus Antonius who is commanding the Triumvirate's fleet in the Sea of Monsters, his favourite strategy will be to assemble the largest fleet of all the known seas and oceans before offering battle. His strategic prowess may be a bit sub-par-"
  
  "The man is a brute," Athena murmured.
  
  "But he learned how important logistics were, and he had two millennia to learn from Actium," the Goddess of Love and Patron of Rome finished. "We best send as many Questers and Legions as we can feasibly deploy in the Pacific."
  
  "No," Zeus countered, summoning his Master Bolt in his hand to give even more weight to his words. "We will not send Questers when the recent examples have proven they're more loyal to their purses than the idea of paying respect to their betters! We will rely upon the Legions!" Flash after flash, Zeus began to disappear as he transformed into Jupiter. "But I hear your reservations. We planned to send one Cohort to secure the Golden Fleece, and one will be sent. We will simply add another Cohort, whose goal will be to free my sons!"
  
  "Father," Athena warned, "the training of the Cohorts has barely begun! Officers and Legionnaires are not ready to be sent to the Caribbean, never mind the Solomon Islands and the gateway to the Sea of Monsters!"
  
  "Then the training will be accelerated," the Master of Olympus proclaimed, and the imperious glare told Apollo and every member of the Council no objection would be tolerated. "Tell Hercules the Expeditionary Force must be ready to leave by Independence Day. And if any of you aren't satisfied with the deadline, you can go help him and train them yourself!"
  
  15 June 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  By now, everyone knew the Barrack of Poseidon was not the location you wanted to visit if you wanted to keep your sanity.
  
  Still, Lou Ellen had not imagined that on this lovely morning, she would be greeted with the improbable sight of Perseus Jackson giving a speech to the two penguins the entirety of New Byzantium was speaking about.
  
  "You have come to the right place, I assure you!" The son of Poseidon bombastically continued as her steps passed the boundaries of the aquatic Barrack. "The Suicide Squad will welcome everyone, no matter how many tails, fins, horns, and hooves you have!"
  
  "We want a cure, Jackson!" The biggest penguin shrieked in anger.
  
  "The Suicide Squad will be an inter-species bastion of tolerance in face of insane odds!" The mad boy continued, utterly ignoring the furious retort. "We will be all united in the name of courageous stupidity and greed!"
  
  Finally realising that listening to this crazy speech wasn't going to transform back to their original human bodies, the penguins took their leave, and by Olympus and everything magical, they were really ridiculous trying to half-walk, half-waddle as best as they could.
  
  "Hey! I haven't finished my speech! I was about to promise them free mackerel!"
  
  "I don't think they came to have free mackerel, Jackson," Lou Ellen sighed as she stopped short of the podium the gargoyles had found somewhere. "And I will remind you that if you keep increasing the numbers of Questers we will take with us, it won't be a 'Suicide Squad' anymore, it will be more like...a 'Suicide Company'. And the more we add, the bigger the monsters which will come after us."
  
  "Don't be too dramatic, Lucinda," the green-eyed mad boy scoffed, "those two penguins don't register as Demigods anymore therefore hiring them will not only be a great move towards tolerance, it also won't increase the high risk of our Quests in a noticeable manner."
  
  That almost sounded reasonable, by Jackson's standards...
  
  "And besides, I bought the rights of using 'Suicide Squad' in the divine and the non-divine world, I am not going to apply for a different name!"
  
  False alert; the madness was back at full strength.
  
  "That sounds like a tacit admission you really intend to increase the size of the Suicide Squad," Lou Ellen drily commented as they passed under a tastefully-sculpted arch of some green-and-white stone representing dolphins and crustaceans.
  
  "No," the son of Poseidon replied cheekily, "it means I intend to recruit more...what's the correct term in this world...ah, yes, I intend to recruit more cannon-fodder for our adventures. What we had at the end of the Quest to retrieve the Master Bolt are the twelve officers. Save Jake Mason, they've all accepted to continue on this glorious and absolutely satisfying path of limitless wealth. We have most of the leadership of the 'heroes' we really need. Now we need the useless troops which will make the name of the 'Suicide Squad' come true."
  
  "You are not going to hire a lot of people if you say a few will die a horrible death past the first days." The daughter of Hecate rolled her eyes.
  
  "No, no..." Perseus grinned again. "A majority will absolutely die, but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make."
  
  "This is still awful."
  
  "Certainly. But there is an abundance of Demigods, and greed is a powerful motivation, as I said before. That the Quests of the Bronze and Silver classification don't pay at all isn't helping."
  
  On this point, the blonde-haired Demigoddess couldn't say Jackson was wrong. The children of Hecate were an exception - Olympus was never happy when one of them left the camp for too long - but the complaints the Questers weren't paid enough compared to the risks they were taking happened three or four times a day without exception.
  
  "Now," the young sorceress spoke as they arrived inside the bar of the Barrack - and yes, the Poseidon Barrack was big enough to have quantities of ludicrous rooms like this one - with a huge fountain at the centre of it serving fruit juices and other beverages instead of water. "What kind of usurpation do you have in mind for the future?"
  
  "Someone spoke with Drew," the leader of the Suicide Squad hummed as he poured them glasses of orange juice and went to sit on an enormous marine-coloured couch.
  
  "Yes. Is that a problem?"
  
  "No, not at all." The black-haired Demigod assured her. "But in your case, I can assure you I don't plan for the usurpation of divine power...or more usurpation, really."
  
  "You don't trust me with more power than I already have?" Lou Ellen raised an eyebrow.
  
  "No, you are relatively humble after your little bath in the Styx. It's just that we must avoid falling into the pit of predictable repetition. If one Demigod or Demigoddess follows a simple plan to gain power and immortality and everyone behinds him try to do the same, then it stands to reason that the failure of the first 'hero' will make sure those waiting for their turn will have their own plans turn to ashes in the same second as him or her."
  
  "That...that almost makes sense. But that means you have to imagine twelve plans, assuming you said the truth when you spoke of twelve officers."
  
  "I did, and you're right." Perseus gave her a serene but tired smile. "Fortunately, I am very resourceful. So to return to your question, I do not plan for some major usurpation in your case. I plan for an apprenticeship."
  
  The daughter of Hecate had not forgotten the words of Pasiphaë in the Labyrinth.
  
  "An apprenticeship to someone waiting in the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  This meant Circe, since she was the only one of the Immortal Sorceresses to have a famous presence there.
  
  This was not an idea Lou Ellen didn't find enticing. But...
  
  "Not that I'm complaining, but can't you be my Professor, since you're closer and in possession of large resources of magical lore?"
  
  A gargoyle seemed to have waited exactly for that moment to slam a pile of books on the white table next to her, almost making her casting a defensive spell in surprise.
  
  "Those are the spell books on the manipulation of elemental forces I have." The son of Poseidon said bluntly. "I will give you a few other lessons before we leave. But don't underestimate your talents. At the speed you're progressing, you will soon be as capable as I am magically, except in Charmspeak, Hydrokinesis, and all the talents my lineage gives me an insurmountable advantage."
  
  "By your own words," the pale blonde-haired Demigoddess asked lightly, "do you really need me to have a Professor?"
  
  "Yes," Perseus replied equally bluntly. "As it stands, you're powerful enough to be a growing threat for all Olympians, yet you're unable to defeat the weakest immortal without a powerful symbol of power to equal the scales."
  
  "The same applies to you, Jackson."
  
  "True," the green-eyed Demigod seemed to have anticipated the comment, like he did a lot of things. "And I have plans for myself. But the Suicide Squad needs something very badly..."
  
  "For you to stop antagonising eleven out of twelve Olympians?"
  
  The black-haired boy chuckled.
  
  "That's a good one, but no. What we need is time."
  
  The sheer seriousness with which the word was uttered told her how serious he was about this topic.
  
  "Something tells me you're not only speaking about earning a couple of years of diplomatic immunity."
  
  "How wise of you."
  
  "Circe may not accept an apprenticeship under such conditions." Lou Ellen hesitated before continuing. "And if I am left alone on whatever island of the Sea of Monsters she is using as a base, you will have absolutely no leverage to demand my return once the Quest and your plans are over."
  
  "Do not worry, I have prepared a lot of plans for dear Circe." Perseus assured her.
  
  "And that's absolutely not worrying..." Lou Ellen snorted.
  
  "Worrying? I thought powerful sorceresses sired by Hecate were above that!"
  
  "That was before meeting you..." the black-eyed Demigoddess abandoned her chair and the pile of books behind her, and approached the couch. Then she pounced, and thanks to Styx's 'curse', the son of Poseidon couldn't fight against her physical strength.
  
  Then her lips touched his, and Lou Ellen stole a kiss like he had stolen her first in the Underworld.
  
  It was...truly powerful.
  
  Of course the moment their lips were separated again, the infuriating Demigod had a reply ready.
  
  "Perhaps I should be the student, if you're willing to give such 'lessons'...Professor."
  
  15 June 2006, Hephaestus Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  Ares woke up.
  
  By itself, it was a bad sign.
  
  When you were a God, you could be at one hundred locations at the same time, and the Lord of Warfare freely admitted this was something he abused the hell of it to monitor the myriad of conflicts and armed violence occurring around the world. By this implacable logic, while one part of his divine essence could take some rest, it was exceptional for a majority of who he was to fall asleep.
  
  The memories of what had happened before falling unconscious flashed brightly in his mind, and the God of War immediately tried to move.
  
  It didn't work.
  
  As his eyes returned to their usual intensity, Ares was able to see exactly why. His legs were disappearing under a mass of blue-green algae. The same was true of his hands and his forearms. The rest of his body was similarly neutralised.
  
  Based on previous unpleasant experiences, the bloodthirsty son of Zeus could tell it was no Orichalcum chains which were keeping him prisoner. That was, if he said so himself, the good news. Ares knew what had happened to Hades, and he had no intention to let be dragged down to an altar like a pig in a cage.
  
  Unfortunately as he watched the weapon-production factory around him, the Olympian God acknowledged it wasn't going to help him. The forge of his brother was half-drowned in water, and the algae imbued by the power of the Titaness were something he had no hope of breaking as long as their owner stopped imbuing them with her essence.
  
  "How the mighty fall," a voice he remembered all too well was heard, and the metallic plate he was tied to went from a horizontal station to a vertical one slowly.
  
  This gave Ares all the time of the world to watch Marcus Antonius's face and grandiloquent red armour.
  
  "Ho, ho, ho!" After some effort, Ares managed to put himself in the frame of mind to let his personality of Mars to take control. "What a surprise...the last Triumvir, Consul of Rome, and Magister Equitum of his armies...the Great Marcus Antonius...the loser of Actium."
  
  Predictably, Marcus didn't miss the opportunity to use his fist again his nose.
  
  It hurt.
  
  But honestly, it did should have hurt a lot more if the former rival of Octavian Caesar was immortal.
  
  As it stood, despite the algae keeping prisoner, his nose was intact a few seconds later, and Mars was confident not a single drop of his ichor had been shed.
  
  "I am surprised, though. I thought I would find you licking the shoes of Julius Caesar in Hades' domain. You were his dog, if I remember correctly. And then you tried to replace him with Octavian-"
  
  The second blow hurt his jaw, but once again failed to do any lasting damage and pain.
  
  "Damn. My little girl is more powerful than you are. Could you strike like a true son of Rome, Triumvir?"
  
  The next blow came with a shockwave, but it was still extremely weak. If it was a contest to be decided by who was going to exhaust himself first, Mars would largely bet on Antonius being the loser...again.
  
  But the Roman General who had won Pharsalus, Philippi, and so many other bloody campaigns laughed and struck him again and again.
  
  "It is pathetic," Mars laughed. "Is it all the legendary Marcus Antonius can do after two thousand years of preparations? I'm really disappointed."
  
  The fist was bound for one of his eyes...but stopped.
  
  A second later, it was obvious whose arrival had convinced the Magister Equitum to stop his delusional beating.
  
  She appeared in a simple dress which shimmered like a magical veil, but shone like a sun. At least that was his first impression, because the piece of cloth changed instantly into a red colour, before turning into a multi-coloured assemblage of silk and other matters.
  
  Mars recognised the artifice. He had seen Venus use it countless times, after all.
  
  But the woman marching towards Marcus Antonius and his 'prison' was not the Goddess of Love. His lover could change her appearance at will and sometimes loved to take an Egyptian look, but she had never used this one. And the long black hair, the tanned skin, the eyes, and, most of all, the nose were eminently recognisable.
  
  "Queen Cleopatra Philopator," Mars chuckled as the former ruler of Egypt changed once again her clothes, this time in a pink toga which looked absolutely delightful for his eyes and his other senses. "I love what you've done to your hair...and the rest of your body. Now why don't you discard the Magister Equitum, and we leave this sordid forge to begin more pleasurable activities?"
  
  "Ah, the proud Butcher of Rome..." the musical voice of Cleopatra was even more enrapturing than it had been millennia ago, which was quite a feat, "yes, Carnifex was quite an appropriate nickname for you."
  
  "Does it mean you're accepting my invitation for pleasurable nightly activities?" the God of War didn't know what she used for Perfume, but this was an interesting flowery smell, and it grew stronger as she was now almost able to touch him...
  
  "No, of course not, utter imbecile."
  
  The voice stopped being musical, and golden nails bit deep in his flesh.
  
  To Mars' real shock, this time his flesh didn't instantly regenerate...and a drop of his immortal blood appeared.
  
  By all rights, the nails of the woman who had taken to bed Julius Caesar once upon a time should be incinerated and the rest of her body should suffer tremendously...but the drops of ichor fumed and didn't inconvenience her.
  
  The nails withdrew. His flesh began to regenerate...but Mars' eyes noticed how slowly it took. It would have taken far longer if a true Goddess had done it, but no true mortal could have wounded him so easily and with no divine weapon whatsoever.
  
  "Who are you?" The God of War for the Roman and the Greek Pantheon thundered. "You can't be Cleopatra. Her Gods faded into irrelevance long ago, and her prayers died with Octavian's conquest."
  
  "First, he acknowledges you, then he tries to reject you, my Queen." Marcus Antonius gave her a kiss which was certainly neither chaste nor innocent.
  
  "His intelligence has diminished a lot since Rome became an Empire." Cleopatra laughed in agreement before addressing him again. "Yes, I am Cleopatra, idiot. Yes, I died. But I was reborn. And though you didn't want my return and your fellow Olympians were eager to proclaim every part of Egyptian culture as decadent and useless, the prayers of the Roman civilisation turned to me in the end, for Egypt remained the granary of your Empire for as long as it suffered under your tyranny."
  
  "This doesn't make you a Goddess."
  
  "No," the former Queen of Egypt purred, "it does not...yet."
  
  "The Triumvirate has forged an alliance with the mighty Titaness of the Seas," Marcus Antonius informed him happily, "and while we weren't counting on your presence, your capture is an extraordinary boon we would be stupid to refuse."
  
  "Ha! And what are you going to do, rule as Neo Venus once you will have usurped the Goddess of Beauty and Love? You haven't a twelfth of the power one needs to be considered a Goddess! Even Aphrodite in one of her weakest and peaceful aspects would beat you effortlessly!"
  
  "No, not as Neo Venus...I will rise as Neo Isis."
  
  Mars' eyes widened and the noise of his teeth gritting against each other echoed.
  
  "Yes, since you considered our great Goddess in your pantheon when your Empire reigned over the Mediterranean, it would be rude to refuse the invitation, no?"
  
  "This won't work!" The Roman God of War challenged them. "And you have no Orichalcum to help you! Once I will be free, I will incinerate you, and all your ridiculous ambitions will burn! Antonius will be the first to burn...and you...you Cleopatra, I will make you suffer."
  
  The former Queen of Egypt gave him a look filled with hatred.
  
  "The beast has dropped its mask. But...I compliment you upon your honesty. Now husband..."
  
  "Yes, my love..."
  
  Urgh, please, they weren't going to copulate in his presence...oh please no! This was just adding insult to the injury!
  
  16 June 2006, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Perseus had known the Goddess of Love would come to New Byzantium the moment he heard of Ares' capture and who had done the deed.
  
  It didn't take a great power of foresight to predict it, evidently.
  
  To be honest, the former Tyrant was pleasantly surprised that the immortal had waited for so long. It proved she was thinking with her head, not with her heart or any other part of her seductress' body.
  
  And when she appeared on the evening as he was able to return to his Barrack, the Olympian appeared as the martial aspect of Venus she was rumoured to use with increasing frequency.
  
  This single point alone was...very interesting.
  
  "Vulcan and Mars have been captured," the hair were so brilliant and pale they were half-way through the shade of silver, but as the Goddess had materialised with a human height, Venus looked almost like a teenage girl...if teenage girls wore purple-gold armour which had the property to repel thousands of magical and physical attacks. Seeing no surprise coming from him, the Olympian sighed. "You could act like you are surprised, Perseus."
  
  "Why would I be? For all your attempts to keep it a secret in this fantastic city, the whole world likely knows of the latest problem Olympus is facing."
  
  "It is true Zeus' summoning hasn't been exactly...subtle." Drew's mother accepted after an instant of silence. "And yes, he is poor at keeping secrets. Then again, everyone is known in a matter of hours those days. For example, the presence of Khione and Rhode was known to the Council before they left New Constantinople after you spoke with them."
  
  "And is it going to be a problem?" That Olympus knew of it was anything but a surprise; when you made the entrances the Goddesses did and transformed two Legionnaires into penguins, there was...there was pretty much no discretion involved. The method employed was 'refuge in audacity'; people would speak about this exceptional visit, but the spectacle they created arriving and leaving would be the topic of discussion for months, while what they discussed in Barrack Three wouldn't.
  
  "No," the purple-armoured Goddess shook her head, "though even if you add two minor Goddesses' power to your own skills, you are going to be severely underpowered to face the might of a Titaness."
  
  "I have no intention to challenge one of the rulers of the seas in duel," the leader of the Suicide Squad replied sincerely. "There are divine laws preventing her from challenging me openly, which will do wonders for my life expectancy. And yes, as you justly remarked, my chances of winning a fight against the wife of the Sea Titan, even if she doesn't take the fight seriously, are approximately tending towards zero."
  
  Most of the major Gods were out of his league, Trident or no Trident. If Perseus had had any doubt about it before the Quest to 'recover the Master Bolt', the fight against Persephone would have erased them in a hurry.
  
  This was against a minor Goddess bolstered by her marriage and her title of 'Queen of Hell'.
  
  If his opponent had the power of a Titan at its beck and call, the chances of winning went from small to inexistent in a second or two.
  
  And the Trident, in such an instance was more a hindrance than a boon, since it bolstered a great deal of water skills on the battlefield...were you able to guess which power Thethys used above all?
  
  No, there was no victory to be won by challenging a Titaness. The entire Suicide Squad would die in an aquatic grave before managing to slightly wound her.
  
  "We will need a major divine intervention if there is to be any hope of victory," the former Tyrant said calmly without a trace of humour in his voice. There was a time for jokes, and it wasn't it. "In the mean time, the main problem for any Expeditionary Force and Quester Party is likely to come from the Triumvirate."
  
  "Marcus Antonius and Cleopatra," Venus nodded. Perseus was once again pleasantly surprised she was not raging and threatening heaven and hell...though the delay between the revelation and her arrival here meant the Goddess of Love had had the time to vent her anger. "The former Egyptian Queen is likely to go for Neo Isis. I do not know which name the Triumvir is going to seek by usurping Mars."
  
  "The problem is quite unlike the one the twins of the Moon and the Sun are facing," Perseus acknowledged with a shrug.
  
  "If you weren't...you..." for the first time, the Goddess smirked, "I would wonder if you took this matter seriously."
  
  "You wound me, Lady Venus." The Demigod placed a hand above his heart. "The thing is, I don't have any idea how the famous ruler of the Lands of the Nile is intending to usurp you. You are unique among the Olympians in that you are both Goddess and Titaness, so the 'Helios-Selene' method is doomed to failure from the very beginning. Vulcan-Hephaestus is your husband, and Ares-Mars your lover, but since the second Triumvirate General can't usurp them at the same time-"
  
  "Marcus Antonius and Cleopatra are in love with each other," as the sun disappeared, the hair of Venus became a river of liquid silver, "the same can't be said from my marriage with my dear husband."
  
  "Maybe," Perseus agreed, "but it still represents no fatal weakness. You have a Domain and countless Aspects with no true weaknesses. And yet the legendary last independent ruler of Egypt still breathes and conspires against you."
  
  "Do you think I should go ask her how she did it?" Venus asked in amused voice.
  
  "Oh no," Perseus answered with the same irony. "Where would be the fun in that? No, my plan is far simpler. It implies forcing her to offer her some bait she can't resist...and the great Master of Olympus has been kind enough to offer one."
  
  17 June 2006, Fields of Mars, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Hera had not disliked the colour orange before losing her divine powers.
  
  To be sure, the rightful Goddess of Marriage and member of the Olympian Council had not hated it either. It was just...who would wear orange during a solemn and prestigious event? Disregarding that, who would try to wear orange in his or her every day's life? Some stripes of orange could be fine depending the circumstances, she supposed, but everything from next to the heels was just as ridiculous as wearing some of the things Dionysus donned when he was drunk...which was most of the time, really.
  
  "Let it not be said I didn't warn you." The fallen deity hissed between her teeth. "Jackson, I am going to kill you, even if it's the last thing I will ever do."
  
  "Don't be dramatic, Antigone! Those are the finest archery clothes in this world!"
  
  "The garb is a crime against fashion," Hera growled, her hatred fuelled by the disrespectful 'identity' Jackson had given her.
  
  It was a full bodysuit. It was extremely tight, and part of it was some sort of smelly latex. It revealed her 'teenage body' to everyone within a kilometre. And at the risk of repeating herself, it was bright orange.
  
  Hera couldn't wait to remove it and burn it in the greatest pyre the Demigods had ever seen.
  
  And when her powers and her divine aura were restored, the Olympian immortal would take great pleasure in enacting various laws making it a crime to wear orange in her presence.
  
  Since Perseus Jackson always wore some orange on it, yes, her wrath would be free to incinerate this bastard less than a minute later. The world would thank her for getting rid of this pest, of that Hera was absolutely convinced.
  
  "I disagree, my dear Antigone. Now that I've removed most of your acne with this ultra-expensive ointment, you look like a perfectly attractive young Demigoddess...who appears to wear orange. Look at how many Demigods are in admiration before your form!"
  
  The 'many Demigods' naturally, were busy howling in laughter the moment they could see her. Had she mentioned this 'orange bodysuit' was horrible-looking and ridiculous?
  
  The only part which had some truth was the one where he proclaimed having removed her 'acne'.
  
  And at this reminder, her fists tightened. It had not been enough for Zeus to turn her into a mortal; he had to disfigure and make her extremely repulsive to boot.
  
  Not that she cared what the bastards of Byzantium and Constantinople thought, but it was another insult from her ex-husband.
  
  The moment she had the power, Hera would take great pleasure torturing him for a few millennia before throwing him into the Tartarus Pit.
  
  "This...this horrible orange bodysuit offers no protection whatsoever, Jackson!"
  
  "Well, of course not, Antigone! An archer like yourself must rely on not being hit."
  
  "So you say," Hera passed her hand into her hair...whose colour looked impossible to really describe. Was it mud with some streaks of blonde? Or was it tainted gold with withering tree leaves?
  
  The abandoned Goddess hated her new hair.
  
  When it came to it, she hated most of the 'mortal body' the hypocritical, arrogant, snobbish donkey on his golden throne had so 'generously' transformed her into with the help of the bitches calling themselves Fates.
  
  "So I say," the son of Poseidon smirked, and it was tempting to try to strangle him...unfortunately the last time yesterday she had tried that, Hera had found herself propelled into the sea rather violently, and the heterochromia-eyed ex-immortal had no desire to repeat the experience anytime soon, especially as the Fields of Mars were partially flooded with the river of New Constantinople. "Against what we're going to fight against in the next months, my dear Antigone, I think anyone who has not bathed into a certain sea-river will not survive for long if he or she can't dodge monstrous blows."
  
  "There are opponents no Demigoddess can't dodge eternally, Jackson." As much as she hated the bastard, Hera had a lot of experience killing Demigods and she knew what Olympus and other lesser factions could field to eliminate the mortals that fell in the 'threat' category. "There are many monsters which are never exhausted, and can track us for thousands of kilometres without resting. And the Sea of Monsters is nothing but a gigantic lair for them!"
  
  "Yes, it is going to be a lot of fun for the Suicide Squad and everyone involved in this chaotic adventure!" The bastard son of Poseidon turned towards the grim-faced bastard of Nemesis who was waiting at the top of the hill where their observation post had been emplaced for the entire duration of the Legion's war games. "Isn't that right, my treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "Stop trying to contaminate me with your madness," the other Demigod said in a tired voice. "We are with you, no need to turn us into talking donkeys or whatever weird beast strikes your fancy today."
  
  "I wasn't planning to do that!"
  
  Antigone stared at the insane Demigod. All other half-blood children stared at the bastard son of Poseidon. No one said it out loud, but 'lie' had to be thought so hard everyone heard it.
  
  "Fine, fine...I have a tough audience today..."
  
  "Can you not watch the war games and make estimates on who is going to be part of the Expeditionary Force?" Hera spoke in exasperation.
  
  If nothing else, the fallen Goddess was really interested in the Cohorts which were going to be sacrificed for Zeus' precious tree-bastard.
  
  "My dear Antigone," the grin of Perseus Jackson grew larger, assuming it was physically possible, "there's no need to watch the war games to know who will be chosen. The treacherous little snake calling himself Octavian has conspired in the shadows and cheated so outrageously that victory is guaranteed to belong to his cohort and the one from the Third Legion he has allied with."
  
  By his side, the son of Nemesis shook his head and immediately voiced his protest.
  
  "Jackson, I know you have a hellishly good spy network, but there's no way Octavian and his accomplices have the influence and the gold to bribe...everyone who needs to be bribed. Okay, his First Cohort is not the worst strike-force of New Constantinople, but the reality they got two idiots transformed into penguins is a good clue they have not the brain to support the muscle."
  
  "And the Twelfth Legion is not as wealthy as the Suicide Squad is," Hera agreed with Nemesis' spawn, "its officers were garrisoned here during the months the Master Bolt was taken to the Underworld. They were paid for garrison duties. Smuggling and disloyal arrangements can only compensate for so much..."
  
  "Your lack of confidence in my sources is regrettable," the grinning bastard pouted. "I'm saying that when Heracles and the good old Dionysus will announce the victors at the end of the day, it will be to say the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legio Fulminata and the Third Cohort of the Third Legio Gallica will be triumphant."
  
  "I don't believe you," Hera said defensively. "You aren't that good."
  
  "My dear, are you ready to gamble your future archery clothes on this small and unimportant bet?"
  
  "NO!"
  
  The shout was out of her mouth before she could control it...
  
  18 June 2006, Barracks' Arena, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Jackson wasn't taking this duel seriously.
  
  Clarisse knew she wasn't Annabeth 'Well of Wisdom' Chase, but she wasn't completely stupid. The son of Poseidon was using a wooden sword. She was using a brand-new Carnifex. There was no water nearby.
  
  Half of her blows were still missing largely, and the other half Jackson parried with his blade. The shocks when those occurred really hurt her arms, such was the power the son of one of the Big Three could put behind them.
  
  Finally, Carnifex flew over her head, and Clarisse was weaponless and with a wooden blade pressed against her throat.
  
  "You could try to not look so smug, Jackson!"
  
  "Me? I am the very image of humility and-"
  
  "Yeah, he's smug," Luke Castellan interrupted the black-haired boy. "In a few seconds, he will start a monologue or gloat about...this should be his ninth consecutive victory."
  
  "You, my heroic lieutenant," Perseus Jackson began to complain, "are a terrible duelling referee."
  
  "And proud of it," the son of Hermes retorted.
  
  "Damn you, my heroic lieutenant!"
  
  Clarisse didn't speak for a couple of minutes. She had been well-rested and well-fed before they began to 'duel', but after enduring this beating, it was like everything she had done before entering the Arena of New Byzantium was an eternity ago. And of course the weather was getting more unbearable day after day.
  
  It was early morning, but she was already sweating and it felt like half her water's body was missing.
  
  So Clarisse drank the cold water that was available at the nearby fountain, and tried to ignore the pain in her muscles and everywhere Jackson had beat her blue.
  
  It took her far longer than she had imagined before feeling good again. Seriously, how powerful was the Earthshaker's son?
  
  "Do you want me to take my father's throne once he is no longer a prisoner, Jackson?"
  
  And yeah, Dionysus and his servants had announced yesterday evening them what everybody in the Suicide Squad already knew: Hephaestus and her dad had been taken prisoner by a Titaness. And it was early, so they were only Jackson and Castellan around, and the magic stuff was activated.
  
  "That's a good question," the green-eyed Demigod replied, his usual 'good smile' already greeting her. "And it is one you, and only you, can answer, Clarisse La Rue."
  
  "I don't understand," Clarisse said honestly.
  
  "During the Great Quest, you walked the path of the berserker," the Demigod explained while playing with his wooden sword. "You experienced multiple times the full power and addiction bloodlust and unbridled rage the God of War wants of his followers day after day. So yes, it is a question only you can answer. Do you want this? Do you want to walk upon the path of carnage, eternal war, until it doesn't matter who you fight for, just that there is a war and that your spear is bathed in blood?"
  
  For an instant the daughter of Ares hesitated.
  
  During several battles, throwing herself at the enemy and hammering them had been...it had been glorious.
  
  But it never lasted, except against the skeletons. The servants of Hades were already dead, no damage done, and all that stuff.
  
  But...skeletons or no skeletons, many times it had been like she wasn't in control. It was...her rage, her anger, and everything violent in her which attacked. And the more she did it, the easier it was.
  
  "No, I don't want that. I don't want to become...a copy of him."
  
  The sneering face of the bloody sergeant that was her father flashed in her mind, and Clarisse shivered.
  
  "Who would?" muttered Castellan. Clarisse groaned loudly. "Yeah, I know he's your father, and he wasn't the worst godly parent in the Hell Palace...but he only cares about your kills and not embarrassing his bloody reputation."
  
  "Yeah," Hermes' son spoke the truth. "He's...a bastard."
  
  "Oh, I'm sure the King and the Queen of the Gods were married when they conceived him!"
  
  Clarisse had been busy drinking more water, and she emptied half of it on Castellan before she could master her reaction.
  
  "Damn you, Jackson!"
  
  "Go to Hell, Jackson!"
  
  "I was just giving you a mythological truth!"
  
  "Here's another, then: you are a bastard, Jackson!"
  
  Clarisse tried to rush towards the fountain, but the watery contents of it began to swirl and bubble in a way which was...not good. Jackson was preparing another surprise with his hydrokinesis, and while Clarisse wouldn't say no to a shower right now, she didn't want to be drowned by a powerful wave.
  
  "Fine, the path of the berserker is out."
  
  A gargoyle passed before them, holding a cardboard 'Say no to the Berserkers in your garden'.
  
  Luke Castellan placed his head in his hands, and Clarisse really wanted to imitate him.
  
  "Fortunately, I have many other delightful contingencies for you, Clara!"
  
  "I think you have taken too many drugs, Jackson!"
  
  "Why do people think I need to take drugs to create my most brilliant plans?" the expression was one of surprise...and it was all a lie, they all knew it. "I freely admit to you; the line between brilliance and madness is one I reach effortlessly with pure water and joy in my heart!"
  
  "And the world can shake at this terrifying prospect," Luke Castellan commented.
  
  "In fact, I've grown wiser and smarter," the daughter of Ares took her spear and the rest of her possessions, and tried to get fast out of the arena's neighbourhood.
  
  She was too late. Jackson moved to make sure she didn't have anywhere to escape to.
  
  "I know this going to be horrible!" the spear-wielder called out.
  
  "Absolute nonsense!" Perseus Jackson cheerfully denied. "Tell me, my dear Clarisse...have your history lessons mentioned the Varangian Guard?"
  
  26 June 2006, Hades' Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Annabeth was never happy to visit Hades' Barrack.
  
  The manor-thing Hades had ordered for his children a century ago was...creepy. Yeah, creepy was the right word.
  
  Even the air was oppressing, and the walls themselves appeared to say 'you're not wanted here'.
  
  Unfortunately, it was one of the rare locations in New Byzantium where you were sure to not be overheard by someone who wasn't a child of Hades.
  
  Thus the grey-eyed daughter of Athena had to regularly visit Poseidon's Barrack and this dark lair.
  
  And then she had to deal with Perseus Jackson.
  
  "The logistics are simply unsustainable!"
  
  To her surprise, the mad boy laughed...and yawned.
  
  "You forgot to say, your Owlishness, that in this scenario, the commander-in-chief prioritise none of the primary goals, attack everywhere in insufficient strength, and increase the pace of the battles until the troops die of exhaustion."
  
  The infernal grin reassessed itself.
  
  "But this isn't what you were trying to say."
  
  How could one be so intelligent, clever, and perceptive...and yet such an irritating jerk?
  
  "Assuming your enemy strength's estimates is correct...and a margin of twenty percent is acceptable in this case...the Suicide Squad's chances to achieve one or two successes in the Sea of Monsters are nonexistent. Forget the Titaness, attrition will make sure a dozen battles are all we will able to fight before dying."
  
  "It lacks poetry, but the statement is essentially correct." Perseus Jackson approved with a smirk. "The Cohorts of New Constantinople selected for the slaughter should worry about the Legionnaires of Marcus Antonius, the uncountable slaves of Circe, and of course the mighty sea monsters waiting for them...but alas, most of their commanders are ignoring that utterly. If I was a gambler, I wouldn't bet on the Roman Expeditionary Force's survival..."
  
  Annabeth gritted her teeth. The son of Poseidon was a gambler...and a cheater when it came to card playing, the sons and daughters of Hermes and Apollo had rapidly learned that to their moneybox's sorrow.
  
  "We aren't given the authorisation to leave New Byzantium."
  
  "It will quickly change." The green-eyed Demigod assured her. "And when this old senile centaur and his affiliates finally realise we have told them the ugly truth all along, my plans will be ready!"
  
  "Excuse me? Your plans?"
  
  "You've just admitted you had no idea how to storm the Sea of Monsters. By this logical deduction-"
  
  "I am perfectly able to prepare a battle-plan which will see the Suicide Squad victorious!" Annabeth Chase snapped.
  
  "And there you fall into the trap again," Jackson chided her. With this tone, it was truly no wonder that 'Antigone Barbara' was trying - and failing - to strangle him at least twice a day...
  
  "How so?" the daughter of Athena grumbled.
  
  "We will train hard in the next months, of course. I will torture...ahem...I will inflict great ordeals...err...no, I will train you harshly. But since we aren't Gods and I don't expect the number of 'Suicide Squad volunteers' to be larger than thirty, it stands to reason, as you said, that for each battle we will suffer losses, be they dead, wounded, or missing as some repugnant creature drags our unfortunate cannon-fodder under the waves."
  
  Perseus stopped grinning, and if the blonde daughter of Athena was correct, it frightened her considerably.
  
  "That's when we meet again at this table, I want your next series of plans to include quantities of schemes which have nothing to do with battle."
  
  "You will have to be more specific."
  
  "Well, to begin with, I intend to loan an impressive quantity of flags of different divine and non-divine factions so that we avoid sailing under the colours of New Byzantium."
  
  "Flying under colours which aren't Olympus is considered piracy, Jackson!" The grey-eyed Greek Demigoddess exclaimed.
  
  "It is piracy if you get caught. And we won't get caught. Where is the problem?"
  
  Where was the problem? Where was the problem? The problem was that if any Olympian or a major God, or anyone else took umbrage, they would be lucky to find a part of their body for their funeral pyres!
  
  "We can't limit ourselves to that, of course." The son of Poseidon continued as her astonishment paralysed her. "Sabotage is a classic. Bribery is a powerful tool in our arsenal. We will of course try ambush tactics in order to steal the ships of the enemy so we can break through without a fight. Temporary alliances with...suitable powers must be considered too."
  
  "You..." The survivor of the Master Bolt coughed, wondering if dying in the hall of Hades wouldn't have done wonders for her mental issues. "How many divine and non-divine laws do you intend to break?"
  
  "Plans before pleasure, plans before pleasure!" Jackson proclaimed. "We will have all time to list larcenies and our other exploits when we will emerge victorious and half of the Council will have heart attacks at the idea of giving us another year of 'diplomatic immunity'. Now I want a first draft of your plans in ten days, Amanda! We will meet again here with her Dreadful Majesty, and I will explain to you in detail your mistakes."
  
  "Annabeth," the young daughter of Athena muttered angrily before realising something. "Wait a minute...if we're to brainstorm on the attack plans of the Sea of Monsters, and you already have your own ready, what are you going to do during the next week?"
  
  "I am so glad you asked the question," for a second or two, Annabeth Chase wondered if Perseus wasn't some long-lost descendant of dozens of terrible villains which were all tortured in the Fields of Punishment. "We will need a warship once the Cohorts will have sunk theirs on the seabed of the Sea of Monsters. I appoint myself the noble task of requisitioning a suitable transport for our military operations."
  
  By the Pit of Tartarus and the liquid flames of the Styx Sea, what had she done to be plunged into this madness?
  
  4 July 2006, the New Golden Horn Shipyards, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The bay was crowded today, and for once, it wasn't because of Independence Day.
  
  No, it was because everyone, Greek and Roman, Nymph and Satyr, adult and children, Legionnaires and Questers, had agreed a few hours of their lives was a good investment when it came to see the Expeditionary Force sailing away from the city.
  
  And it was beautiful day. Everywhere his eyes could see, an atmosphere of party reigned. There were tents selling drinks everywhere it was physically possible, and in some cases where it wasn't. Numerous deities had opened their warehouses, and the result was countless mini-explosions of colours, improbable illusion-spectacles, and massive sport contests, including but not limited to: wrestling, running, climbing up the mast of a wooden ship, and riding pegasi.
  
  Ethan couldn't find anything in him to share the exuberant joy of thousands of Demigods and Legacies.
  
  The terrible war that had been averted with the recovery of the Master Bolt and the Trident was practically not averted at all. The Triumvirate was extremely dangerous, and had found a Titaness to ally with.
  
  And the Expeditionary Force gathered today was commanded by moronic idiots.
  
  "Still, it would be better if I had a list of ships to look for..." the son of Nemesis whispered to himself...
  
  "One has only to ask, and I deliver!" A familiar voice was heard, and he received a friendly tap on the back.
  
  It was very hard to not draw his sword and try to impale the source of the problem.
  
  "Jackson..." then he realised what the paper which had found itself in his hands told. "An order of battle? Really?"
  
  "Hey, you asked for it!"
  
  Ethan passed a hand in his hair, and wondered what the hell he had been thinking accepting for the first time to be part of the Suicide Squad.
  
  Deciding this question could wait for another day - the answer would be likely very demoralising, the grim leader of the Nemesis Barrack began to read.
  
  Naval Roman Order of Battle - Glorious Codename: Operation Vanguard
  
  Launch Date: 4th July of the Year of Grace 2006
  
  1st Squadron (First Cohort, Twelfth Legio):
  
  Ave Caesar, modified Ticonderoga-class Cruiser, Squadron Flagship
  
  Rhenus, modified Oliver Hazard Perry-class Frigate
  
  Danubius, modified Oliver Hazard Perry-class Frigate
  
  Dominus Caelum, modified Casablanca-class Escort Carrier repurposed into an Eagle Carrier
  
  Assyria, modified Agile-class Minesweeper
  
  Corinthus, modified Neosho-class oiler
  
  Emporiae, modified Neosho-class oiler
  
  Vesuvius, modified Kilauea-class ammunition ship
  
  2nd Squadron (Third Cohort, Third Legio):
  
  Jupiter Invictus, modified Ticonderoga-class Cruiser, Squadron Flagship
  
  Rhodanus, modified Oliver Hazard Perry-class Frigate
  
  Hispania, Modified Agile-class Minesweeper
  
  Brundisium, modified Neosho-class oiler
  
  Etna, modified Kilauea-class ammunition ship
  
  "That's...interesting," Ethan conceded. "I note you didn't add your predictions of the fatalities and the casualties they're going to take in this...this 'Operation Vanguard'."
  
  "No, I didn't." Perseus Jackson grinned. "I'm sure you understand, my treacherous lieutenant, that something so insignificant slipped off my mind."
  
  "I'm sure it did...why are there the two transformed penguins waiting for your orders?"
  
  "By a curious coincidence," the son of Poseidon beamed with the sort of intensity which put even Dionysus ill-at-ease, "those two poor souls have found themselves dismissed from the Twelfth Legio by their intolerant superiors! But the law is the law, and they had to continue military service, or the vows they swore to the Olympians would cause them untold trouble. Realising the trouble they were in, they realised that their early dismissal of my generous proposal may have been a hasty."
  
  "But penguins?"
  
  Ethan had never been much of a priest, but in the next seconds he really, really prayed the Gods and whatever immortals were in charge of this mad world that the two Cohorts would succeed.
  
  Otherwise he would have to go to the Sea of Monsters, and with Jackson leading them, it promised to be sheer madness from the first hour to the last.
  
  "We had a donkey, a Minotaur, and a crocodile regularly involved during our previous adventures. Why not penguins?"
  
  "Why not indeed..." Ethan sighed before repeating dramatically the three fatal words.
  
  "That's the spirit! Now, let's wave hands and fins a lot towards the warships, I have a feeling those poor Legionnaires haven't the slightest idea of what they're embarking for...and a double ration of mackerels for you Rico, if you swim and go singing in front of the Ave Caesar as it leads the squadron out of the bay!"
  
  "RICO! DON'T DO IT! YOU ARE NOT A PENGUIN! HE'S TRYING TO-"
  
  A splash interrupted the tirade, and countless Demigods cheered like madmen.
  
  Author's note: Let's go to the Sea of Monsters, they said...
  
  The madness is back. The Suicide Squad has yet to leave New Byzantium, but the wheels of craziness are already turning, ready to unleash new catastrophes in their wake.
  
  And no, next chapter isn't going to be an Interlude. Perseus Jackson and the Suicide Squad need a ship, and the son of Poseidon is a Tyrant who doesn't stop at the first hurdle...
  
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  Dreams of Warships
  Chapter 14
  
  Dreams of Warships
  
  4 July 2006, Lotus Casino, Las Vegas, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The bank always won.
  
  Adamantios was proud to say the Lotus-eaters, a noble race he was proud of administering via his seat on the Board of Directors, had elevated this principle to the rank of art.
  
  Thousands of humans entered the Lotus Casino every year.
  
  They never left.
  
  The luckiest ones were those whose emotions were the most powerful, the ones which could convince his brethren and himself that letting them win represented a buffet of powerful bursts of joy and desire.
  
  Those ones were authorised to win for as long as the bank desired. Money was not an issue; yes, by the laws governing the divine order, the Lotus-eaters' casino cards had unlimited credit, but it wasn't like the mortals were going to escape. Between the essence of the Lotus flowers dispersed by the palace's air conditioner, the enchantments woven in the gaming machines, the table games, and the other distractions, mortals never thought about leaving the Lotus Casino.
  
  Well, they never thought about leaving until they began to lose. But at that point, it was far too late for them. When this came around, the people suddenly realised that after decades of the Lotus-eaters draining them of their most powerful emotions, the will to resist was completely missing.
  
  And then they were bound in chains and enslaved.
  
  The Lotus Casino was an extremely legal and profitable enterprise, with all the paperwork to justify it, and above all, it allowed the Lotus-eaters to feed.
  
  But too much was never enough. By accumulating wealth and investing it judiciously in both the Mist-shrouded world and the divine order of the Olympians, the Lotus-eaters were essential to the status quo, a guarantee Zeus would never turn against them.
  
  Granted, it was a slim possibility, but it wasn't as anyone had ever thought the Master of Olympus would ever throw his wife from the aforementioned mountain and strip her of her immortality.
  
  No, their prudence was perfectly rational. It wasn't paranoia if the enemies were really after you.
  
  And in the end, the bank had to win.
  
  "I think we have a troublemaker, Director Adamantios," the intervention of his subordinate managed to break him off a fascinating family playing like madmen on a series of brand-new slot machines. "Blackjack, table thirteen."
  
  "Really?" This was a novelty this year. Assuredly the Lotus flowers impregnating the air didn't prevent cheating per se, but between the state-of-the-art security system - which was very visible so as to deter the crooks - and more esoteric contingencies, it was a rare 'guest' which tried. "Lead to me to this mortal. I want to see how he's doing before explaining him in detail how monumental his error was."
  
  "At once, Director!"
  
  It took only a moment of navigation between the crowds of the different table games before reaching his target. And yes, those who didn't play Roulette, Poker, Baccarat, and all the games currently 'offered' by his brethren playing the role of dealers were almost as important as the players themselves; it wasn't because they weren't playing that the Lotus-eaters couldn't play with them.
  
  The moment Adamantios could see the cheater, his first reaction was that the man who had dared challenging the established rules in the game of Blackjack was not so much a man but a boy...and this grin reminded him someone...something that had come down from the official announcements of Olympus...but after a couple of seconds, he was somehow unable to put a name on this face.
  
  "You are cheating, Mister Jack." His subordinate's accusation interrupted all conversations, and a powerful sense of betrayal and astonishment echoed deliciously in the Lotus Casino.
  
  Somehow, this didn't faze the criminal at all.
  
  Instead, the black-haired individual grinned.
  
  Adamantios didn't like this expression at all...especially as he couldn't sense anything from the cheating soul...there was something about him that-
  
  "If I am cheating," the grin transformed into something terrible, "why do you have card ejectors in your sleeves?"
  
  Adamantios began to chuckle at the ridiculous accusation. The Lotus-eaters never needed something as stupid as a card ejector to manipulate the outcome of a minor card game to win, obviously.
  
  The chuckle died as a torrent of cards dropped from the sleeves of the Blackjack table's dealer.
  
  Such was his shock that Adamantios had not the reflex to pick one and notice that all of them were aces decorated with a grinning skull.
  
  A couple of seconds later, it was too late.
  
  As the cards never stopped dropping - to the point they were soon growing into a respectable pile on their own - the emotions of the hundreds of mortals flared dangerously.
  
  Wrath.
  
  Betrayal.
  
  Rage.
  
  Fury.
  
  "My dear clients, I can assure you-"
  
  "THEY CHEATED US OF OUR MONEY!"
  
  "SOMEONE CALL THE AUTHORITIES!"
  
  "GIVE ME BACK MY CHIPS!"
  
  Adamantios tried to shout, to bring back the calm.
  
  The chaos which engulfed the Lotus Casino in the next seconds made a mockery of his efforts.
  
  5 July 2006, street outside the Lotus Casino, Las Vegas
  
  Perseus was whistling as he left the Lotus Casino behind him, a large briefcase in hand.
  
  Ignoring the flamboyant sport cars on his right, the son of Poseidon looked at his watch. Ten minutes past midnight.
  
  In total, the Lotus 'affair' had taken three hours...not a bad performance, considering the Lotus-eaters had a considerable number of time-distortion magical devices in and around their principal headquarters.
  
  "You made it too easy."
  
  The green-eyed Demigod raised his eyebrows and gasped as if the newcomer's arrival was a surprise.
  
  "Oh, dear! Isn't it my heroic thief lieutenant?"
  
  Luke Castellan simply rolled his eyes.
  
  "You didn't need a good thief for that job, Jackson."
  
  "Maybe," the ex-Tyrant agreed, "but I preferred hiring a good one. Just in case things didn't go according to the plan, you understand."
  
  "And what made you suspect things would not go according to the plan?"
  
  "The fact I had to rely on very incomplete information to organise this operation," the leader of the Suicide Squad replied honestly this time.
  
  Luke was intelligent. The realisation arrived before a minute was out.
  
  "The di Angelo siblings," the blonde-haired Quester voiced before grimacing. "There wasn't anyone else?"
  
  "My heroic thief lieutenant, the Lotus-eaters aren't in a habit of allowing mortals to leave their gambling establishments alive. The only beings who can visit Casinos like this one and be certain to not be dragged in chains after being drained of all their emotions are the Gods. Anyone else is not leaving. Period."
  
  Something else he could thank Hera for...if he one day decided to thank 'Antigone' for anything.
  
  "You aren't worried the enraged 'gamers' will destroy the Casino and provoke a wave of panic in the streets of Las Vegas?"
  
  "I wish it could happen," Perseus admitted before frowning. "But by the time I left, they were tripling the intensity of their flowery drug in the air. That's why I decided to immunise ourselves before coming, by the way."
  
  "Yeah, yeah, congratulate yourself on genial plan..."
  
  "Well, if you insist..." Luke Castellan groaned in despair. "Fine. My heroic lieutenant is a kill-joy. But no, I don't expect the Lotus-eaters to have too many problems subduing their future slaves."
  
  The two Demigods began to walk into the warm night, all the while ignoring the long limos and the egregious decorations Las Vegas considered normal when you could see through the Mist.
  
  "I know you insist you're a villain and all of that," the teenage son of Hermes began, "but wouldn't it have been better to free everyone and destroy this Casino? The Lotus-eaters are...err..."
  
  "In plain English, they can be considered psychic vampires," Perseus nodded absently, "modern culture is all about sexy creatures which drain you of your blood, but it's naive. The dangerous predators don't leave a mark on their victims...or do not leave a trace of the victims when they're satiated."
  
  "Yes. That." Luke Castellan cleared his throat. "Let me guess: they are more redoubtable than they appear physically?"
  
  "Oh no," the leader of the Suicide Squad shook his head, "given a proper weapon or two, I'm sure you could have destroyed this 'Lotus Casino' by yourself."
  
  "Then why?"
  
  The son of Poseidon didn't want to reveal too many of the plans he had for the place, but not giving out enough information would shake Luke's loyalty, and he couldn't have that.
  
  "The simplest reason I didn't completely vandalise this place, my heroic thief, is that it won't be enough. The 'Lotus Casino' we entered in Las Vegas is not the only one to exist. I confirmed the existence of at least three others, and I know the exact coordinates of the one built on Macao. And while those dreadful Lotus-eaters have some sort of magical portals to evacuate from one to the other in a hurry if they have to, we can't use them."
  
  He had tried tonight in the confusion. It had been a failure.
  
  "When I will seriously act against them," Perseus continued, "and make no mistake, this time will come, I will make sure this will be a coordinated offensive. I don't want the rats scurrying away and rebuilding one new Casino within a year."
  
  Something which would undoubtedly happen if a 'lone casino raid' was launched. The Lotus-eaters were organised, skilled at playing their games...and very, very rich.
  
  "The other problem is that they have Olympian protection."
  
  "What?"
  
  The Demigod who had broken several armies of Hell looked with unhidden amusement at his lieutenant.
  
  "We're in the middle of Las Vegas, Luke Castellan. The Lotus-eaters aren't exactly hiding themselves. The Dark One, under special circumstances, made sure his only two mortal children were safe here. Believe me, the Gods aren't ignorant of their presence and what they're doing to the mortals."
  
  "Oh...who...our Camp Director?"
  
  It was a good guess, given that parties, madness, and games were in his jurisdiction.
  
  But it was only a partial good guess.
  
  "Good try, but in this case, it's likely the authorisation came from the very top of Olympus."
  
  And it wasn't likely to end, as Zeus was in dire need to replenish his empty treasury. If he was a betting Demigod, the ex-Tyrant would say the King of the Gods was closing his eyes in exchange of a cut of the profits.
  
  "Anyway, provoking a scandal under false identities and generating a few hours of chaos will be completely ignored by the Council," assuming the Lotus-eaters wanted to admit in public they couldn't stop a single Demigod against their entire security personnel, "and for a night of work with a cheap distraction, we gained what we're after."
  
  "The weapon schematics Daedalus sold them in the 1980s to expunge some of his debts," Luke spoke in resignation, materialising in his hands the twin of the briefcase he was carrying. "The question I'm asking myself, is, if I went after this objective, why the hell do you have another briefcase in your hand?"
  
  "Because while everyone was trying to beat the Lotus-eaters with their bare hands, I went to their exchange currency room, and I liberated those poor casino owners of two million dollars and about one million Drachmas."
  
  It was a good thing those briefcases he had acquired were weightless and could transport enormous quantities of materials, no matter how small and unthreatening they appeared to be.
  
  "You stole the available cash, you mean. The rewards of the Great Quest weren't enough for you?"
  
  "My dear heroic lieutenant," Perseus shifted to teaching mode, "the first thing you will learn tonight is that war is a terribly expensive affair. When you have the opportunity, make sure your enemy pays for it. It's far better for your wallet."
  
  "If you say so."
  
  "I say so, and I am right. Any other questions?"
  
  "Must we return to New Byzantium via the Labyrinth? I hate those tunnels..."
  
  "I am not too fond of them myself. But if we want to be back in the colony before dawn and without attracting any unwanted attention...there are no other good options."
  
  7 July 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "Extraordinary..." Annabeth looked at the weapon drawings again, and her excitation doubled. "Just extraordinary. And you say Daedalus invented them in 1980?"
  
  "Oh, no," the infuriating son of Poseidon clicked his tongue, "I said that Daedalus gave them away to pay his debts in 1980. There's no way to know when he wrote what you have in your hands."
  
  "Jackson, many weapons described on those pages are missile-launchers or tubes to throw torpedoes at the enemy."
  
  "The science used by Daedalus was centuries ahead of his time during the Antiquity. I see no reason why this shouldn't be the case in the twentieth-century...though with him having lost the Labyrinth and certainly enjoying Hades' hospitality at the moment, this may be about to change."
  
  Why did the mad boy have to bring good arguments between two mad interventions?
  
  "It's going to be hell to produce those weapons in time for them to do any good, though," the daughter of Athena didn't understand completely every piece of lore laid on the documents in front of her, but it was evident this was extremely advanced technology, and the forges of the Hephaestus Barrack were almost certainly not up to the task. "And integrating them on a dedicated warship will be even more difficult."
  
  "I'm more worried about building a reasonable amount of stockpiles for the journey to the Sea of Monsters."
  
  Annabeth repressed violently the urge to smash his head against the blue-green table.
  
  "Jackson..." she growled. "Unless you've forgotten, the Romans dismissed most of the docks' employees and the sailors they didn't hire for their Legion Expedition. As such, there's literally no shipbuilding activity we can use without injecting millions of Drachmas into the Golden Horn shipyards...and it will likely take months to change that." Though at least if they did that, maybe it would give them a priceless excuse to delay the next Great Quest? "And the forges of New Byzantium do not have the infrastructure ready to build weapons like that. The guns of the Roman Cruisers and Frigates were modified and altered over an entire decade, or the Gods gave them away when they needed to modernise their private military forces. We can't build missile-launchers and everything with those industrial tools!"
  
  "Well-reasoned," Perseus Jackson applauded slowly like she had said something he had thought of a month ago...which was probably the case, sadly. "And it is why indeed our ship for this exciting adventure won't be built at New Byzantium or using its resources. I intend to use the services of a private shipbuilding company I have the greatest confidence into."
  
  The daughter of Athena couldn't hide her scepticism.
  
  "You think this 'shipbuilding company' can build something which can survive the Sea of Monsters in a couple of months?"
  
  "The latter part can only be verified by sailing to the Zone Mortalis, your Owlishness."
  
  The blonde-haired Demigoddess scowled. She hated that nickname.
  
  "Of course, as you yourself said, we will have to play with high technology every step of the way. Therefore, the ship engineer will be the most important member of the crew after my humble self."
  
  "Well, if you hadn't traumatised Jake Mason-"
  
  "The once and future donkey wasn't good enough," the son of Poseidon interrupted her, before dismissing their ex-teammate as a negligible quantity. "The maintenance of a basic machine gun is nowhere near the level of what you and I will demand of the ship engineer."
  
  "Yes," Annabeth conceded, "but you realise we need another son of Hephaestus or someone having superior mechanical engineering skills, and given how infamous we are, recruiting one is not going to be simple!"
  
  Jackson must have waited deliberately until she said those exact words, for the door behind him opened, and Dakota McDonald entered the meeting room, dragging by one foot a young Demigod which looked...err...the Demigod looked like he had played with a barbecue, and it had ended very badly.
  
  "A new potential candidate for the job," the son of Bacchus commented sarcastically. "I went with your advice to 'follow the explosions', as you suggested. And just in time too: I think a few of the Questers' nearby were warming up at the idea of teaching him a lesson. For some reason, they didn't really like his fire bombardment of the volley-ball terrain."
  
  "Excellent work!" The mad boy complimented the no-longer-drunk Wine God's son. "If true, we will only need a healer-doctor, a cook, and a musician before the critical positions are all filled!"
  
  "Jackson..." A massive headache was coming, she just knew it. "Having a musician is not something vital for the success of the mission!"
  
  "On that point, your Owlishness, my opinion and yours differ! Now, please a moment of silence, I want to be sure our new volunteer is indeed a potential ship engineer! ARE YOU ALIVE?"
  
  Of course, the son of Poseidon screamed it as his lips were right next to the ears of the half-roasted Demigod.
  
  "AHHHHHHHHHH!" Naturally, the boy wasn't dead, and jumped like the end of the world had arrived before looking around fearfully.
  
  Then his eyes fell upon Perseus Jackson.
  
  Annabeth was pretty sure that for all he was covered in oil, coal dust, soot, and many other unclean things, 'Madre de Dios' was what was whispered between his teeth.
  
  The problem was that Perseus Jackson heard it too.
  
  "Hola, Amigo!" The mad grin was back, and the world was going to tremble. "Your name?"
  
  "Leo Valdez!" Oh, that was the new son of Hephaestus, the one with the explosive reputation...
  
  And suddenly Annabeth froze, for listening to her thoughts, she realised how big the trouble they had inadvertently advanced towards...
  
  "Leo Valdez," Perseus Jackson slowly repeated, as if he tasted the Spanish language itself. "I'm hiring Demigods for an adventure."
  
  "I don't want to die..." which answered the question of 'were the recently arrived Demigods of the Suicide Squad's reputation?'
  
  "Now this is completely ridiculous!" the son of Poseidon chided him. "I can assure you it was the enemy which dealt with the fatalities, not us! Well, there was this poor Scipio Varus, but he tried to assassinate me."
  
  The hirsute and unclean face of Leo Valdez did not believe a single word of it...especially not with the 'reassurance' Jackson had given.
  
  "I can assure you the pay is excellent!"
  
  "But I don't want to die!"
  
  "Amigo!" The Charmspeak of Jackson struck like a hammer wielded by the Gods. "Do you have a special talent which makes you totally qualified for an engineering role?"
  
  "I..." It was clear the black-haired - at least Annabeth assumed the original hair colour was black - didn't want to reveal his secret, but between a novice and the leader of the Suicide Squad, the fight was over before it had begun. "I am a pyrokinesist."
  
  Oh, by the Pit. No wonder that the Hephaestus Barrack was so lively since his arrival. This boy could control fire by the power of his will...
  
  The next reaction, naturally, was as dramatic as it was predictable.
  
  "EXCELLENT!" Jackson screamed in joy. "Why didn't you say so earlier? You're hired, Amigo! Welcome aboard!"
  
  "Jackson," the daughter of Athena began weakly, "we will have very dangerous ammunition and weapons aboard our warship, I don't think-"
  
  "My generosity is limitless! Every time Amigo Valdez feels like venting his fire is necessary, I will graciously give him the permission to incinerate the nearest enemy ship!"
  
  Never mind, the madness was uncontrollable. Annabeth just hoped she would be able to find more 'reasonable' candidates for the healer and the cook jobs...
  
  9 July 2006, somewhere in Norfolk, United States of America
  
  The son of Hephaestus was fidgeting so much there was no point asking if he was nervous.
  
  On the one hand, Ethan admitted the poor boy had good reasons to be. Leonidas Valdez - who insisted - everyone called him 'Leo' - had not been among them when they entered the Labyrinth and endured hellish challenges and Jackson's madness, the latter obviously being greater than the former. He was not a veteran Quester; Hephaestus claiming him days after he arrived at New Byzantium was one of the last acts the God of the Forge made before being captured by the Sea Titaness.
  
  And of course, last but not least, they were currently infiltrating a military base of the United States Navy, relying on Jackson's talents and the Mist. The likelihood of everything going right without him being forced to draw a sword was infinitely slim.
  
  "I don't want to-"
  
  The angry whisper of Annabeth had not the time to finish that the son of Poseidon pushed a large lever, kicked a sort of punching ball, before frenetically taping something on the venerable computer which had appeared from nowhere.
  
  "Password accepted." An emotionless mechanical voice laconically declared. "Tunnel opening. Please proceed within the next sixty seconds if you do not want to face the automatic defences reactivating."
  
  "Charming," the son of Nemesis drawled.
  
  "We're in a military base, don't forget." Perseus Jackson rushed through the gargantuan hole which had just opened, and Ethan stepped up the pace to follow, despite the bad feeling this opening felt to him like an enormous maw about to devour them.
  
  "Err...what do we do if we get caught?" the newest member of the Suicide Squad was not very good at pretending not to be afraid.
  
  "We won't," Ethan replied with certainty. "I doubt very much we are going to meet ordinary soldiers here now that we're past this...this thing."
  
  "But-"
  
  "Leo Valdez, Jackson is a madman, but he values our services; if there is a risk there, it is likely he will deal with him himself, and Annabeth and I will finish it. Your fighting skills won't be required."
  
  And thankfully, before in spite of being a pyrokinesist, the son of Hephaestus had likely every chance to lose a martial-only duel against Drew Tanaka.
  
  The tunnel was incredibly long, and by the way they moved in every possible direction, the idea was there they might not be under Norfolk after ten minutes.
  
  But since there were no alternative paths, the only choice was to go forwards.
  
  The progression was done mostly in silence, under feeble reddish electrical lights.
  
  After thirty minutes or so, they at last saw a massive source of light in the distance.
  
  It was too weak to be the sun, Ethan thought, and he was right.
  
  The location they arrived was a gigantic underground cavern.
  
  Correction: a gigantic underground cavern, which had somehow acquired a cascade...and which had been transformed into a secret shipyard.
  
  "Wow!" Leo exclaimed, and Ethan and Annabeth manifested their surprise differently, but they approved. He had never heard about this cavern before, not a whisper, not a rumour, nothing.
  
  Meaning it had been built in complete secret, and the secret had held.
  
  "My friends," the green-eyed leader of the Suicide Squad grinned, satisfied by their reaction, "welcome to the headquarters of the Rogue Engineering Company. A company led by none other than-"
  
  "BROTHER!"
  
  A young Cyclops charged and went on to slam upon the son of Poseidon before shaking him like...oh right, was he trying to hug him?
  
  "Brother...my...ribs..."
  
  "OH! RIGHT!"
  
  Ethan fought a losing battle not to snicker as when the steel-strong arms released Jackson, the son of Poseidon looked a little shaken and prone to count his ribs.
  
  "Jackson..." Annabeth looked very pale suddenly. "This is a Cyclops!"
  
  "I would never have guessed!" Perseus smirked. "Guys, this is by brother, Tyson. Tyson, my new friends. Ethan is the dark grouchy one, Leo Valdez is the ship specialist I wanted you to meet. Annabeth is the blonde girl."
  
  "FRIENDS!"
  
  What followed would be censored for the next two hundred years. Ethan was just going to say that when it was all over, he had all his limbs and his body was mostly unbroken. Mostly.
  
  The next seconds gave him the opportunity to watch the young Cyclops...who had an odd sense of fashion, even by his race standards. The large T-shirt he wore was green and red, with a large 'DA BESTZ' in the middle, and the tools on his back and his arms looked like they were straight out a mad scientist movie.
  
  "First the Minotaur, then a Cyclops?" Ethan was the first to react vocally. "Wait a minute, he's a son of Poseidon like you?"
  
  "Well, there is only one me, or so I'm told, but yes, he's a son of Poseidon too."
  
  "Cool!" Leo Valdez had no self-preservation instincts, that much was clear. "And he's the one who's going to build the ship?"
  
  "YEAH!" The Cyclops and his half-brother bumped their fists up.
  
  This wouldn't have been so bad, if half a dozen young Cyclops and perhaps thrice that number in human workers had not decided to cheer up behind them...and the cavern had the perfect acoustics to create a hell of an echo.
  
  Ethan was certain they were all going to have a powerful headache within the next hour.
  
  Fortunately, Tyson the Cyclops lowered his tone after that.
  
  "Half of the materials have arrived, and we're setting up the foundries in the other cavern, brother," the 'leader' of the 'Rogue Engineering Company' reported semi-formally. "We will begin working on the hull tomorrow. We should have everything gathered here for the yacht by next Friday."
  
  "Jackson!" The daughter of Athena growled dangerously quasi-immediately. "You told us you were going to build a warship! You never mentioned anything about a yacht!"
  
  "Because you didn't need to know," Perseus Jackson, incorrigible mad man, shrugged, "and it won't be a yacht, Tyson's words were a bit hasty."
  
  "They were?" ah hope, how beautiful it was before it all collapsed...
  
  "Absolutely! It won't be a mere yacht, it will be a super-mega yacht armed to the teeth!"
  
  Why wasn't he surprised? This was Jackson they were speaking about...
  
  "When you say, 'mega-yacht', you mean, err..."
  
  "I mean our ship will be about one hundred and forty metres-long, the tonnage should be in the nine thousand-plus tonnes, and the draught will be around five point four metres. But with the engines and turbines Daedalus imagined and that plenty of Cyclops are busy replicating as we speak, we will be able to sustain a cruise speed of around twenty-five knots."
  
  Ethan was anything but a maritime expert, but it seemed extremely fast, for something the size of the 'mega-yacht' that was at the core of this little expedition.
  
  Which left him to a very logical deduction.
  
  "The 'mega-yacht' look will be the bait, right?" The son of Nemesis said, his concentration raised to the maximum as he examined with a new eye the ship parts dispersed near the main empty dockyard of the cavern. "It will be a Q-Ship, nothing more, nothing less."
  
  "Why not have the comfort of one and the firepower of the other?" their insane leader grinned. "The travel to the Sea of Monsters will be long, and I for one do not want to do it on a ship dating from the eighteenth century if there are far more pleasant alternatives."
  
  Ethan nodded before something made him grimace.
  
  "I will freely agree there are far less pleasant alternatives than a mega-yacht to travel around the world...and I completely support the idea of having a floating headquarters from which we can explore the aquatic Zone Mortalis with the luxury usually given to billionaires...but can we afford it? It may be one of the more pleasant options, but it's certainly not the cheapest."
  
  The grin disappeared, and when the son of Poseidon nodded, it was in a sober manner.
  
  "Yes, it is very, very expensive. All the money I took from the Lotus Casino a few nights ago has already been poured into it, and my thief lieutenant and I have also done other jobs which will...divert non-insignificant amounts of money to the Rogue Engineering Company."
  
  Ethan was not so easily astonished, but knowing the 'Lotus Casino affair' had earned around two million dollars and one million Golden Drachmas...
  
  "How expensive is this ship going to be? Seriously?" Leo Valdez asked a good question, for all his inexperience.
  
  "This isn't the good question." A shadow of a smile was back. "We're not just paying for the ship, you know. We're paying for all the infrastructure of the shipyard, and of course the foundries Tyson will make us visit in a moment. We also have the defences outside and the contingencies if someone ill-intentioned find this place."
  
  Jackson sighed.
  
  "Most of that is already paid, by the way, the Casino job was the last investment Tyson and his workers needed; some other things I won after the Great Quest, like valuable information, have been surprisingly profitable when addressed to the right parties. No, the problem is the ammunition."
  
  Ethan frowned, and Annabeth imitated him. Yes, the son of Poseidon had multiplied the hints that producing enough ultra-modern weapons and its ammunition was going to be a problem, but this was before knowing the 'warship' was likely costing more than the Roman Expeditionary Fleet by itself.
  
  "We don't need that many missiles!" Leo, predictably, was the first to say the reply they all had in the lungs.
  
  "Of course not!" Perseus feigned to be worried, which was-
  
  "We just need around twenty thousand of them, so that every ship and monster sent by enemies will die by...what is the appropriate word...ah, yes, OVERKILL!"
  
  "OVERKILL!" The Cyclopes thundered, and just like that, this poor world was again in danger...
  
  The second Great Quest was likely going to be crazier than the first one, Ethan was sure of it now.
  
  10 July 2006, a beach near New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  When Bianca abandoned the very idea of swimming and returned ashore, she hadn't any energy left in her, and as such her arrival on the beach was more a long period of crawling than anything majestic.
  
  Bianca hated it. She hated it almost on the level of the revealing black-silver swimsuit Jackson had forced her to don. Yes, it was enchanted, and yes, it was excellent for a novice to learn swimming...and she hated it nonetheless.
  
  Contrary to one might think, when she chose to get naked before beginning a ritual, it was with the knowledge that there were few witnesses to watch her body...and that there would be even fewer to report what they had witnessed in the next hours.
  
  "Damn you, Jackson..."
  
  Unfortunately, her curse conjured the aforementioned Demigod and ex-Tyrant before she could utter a single spell.
  
  "Well, well...one kilometre, and no one had to bring you back this time...that's a neat progress, your Dreadful Majesty!"
  
  The former Dread Empress of Praes glared at the black-haired boy, wishing he dropped dead on the spot.
  
  Reality, alas, refused to obey her will.
  
  "I will make you regret that." She swore. "You will see."
  
  "It's not my fault that of the entire Suicide Squad, you're one of the rare ones to not know how to swim!"
  
  The daughter of Hades gritted her teeth...and didn't answer.
  
  It had the problematic issue of being the truth, really.
  
  "Where and when would I have learned?" She asked instead. "During my childhood at Wolof, several of the Sahelians were breeding their pet monsters in the river, and going to swim there would be just madness."
  
  And afterwards, when she had begun her conquest of Praes, when she had been known as Triumphant, the mere idea of asking to someone how to swim was utterly ridiculous. Thousands - before it became tens of thousands of souls - had tried to find a weakness they could exploit to kill her, some chink which would allow them to breach her flying fortresses and rout her Legions of Terror.
  
  Handing them this priceless information would have been like asking them to cut her throat.
  
  "I thought the Lotus Casino had an adequate swimming pool."
  
  "It...sort of did?" Despite her magical exercises to fight off the effects of this cursed location, Bianca always had some problems remembering the exact details of the Lotus-eaters' lair. "I think it was constantly under assault by drunken imbeciles between two sessions of card games, though."
  
  "Acceptable," Jackson agreed before smiling again. "It makes all the more important though for you to learn how to swim correctly. It would be the height of ridiculousness for someone with the Curse of Achilles to drown and prove the fallacy of near-invincibility that way."
  
  Evidently, seen that way...
  
  "It may not matter against some monsters and hurricane-strong storms of a Zone Mortalis!"
  
  "Maybe not, but in such conditions, if you know how to swim, you're definitely one of the Suicide Squad officers who can survive relatively easily."
  
  The way it was phrased made Bianca di Angelo instantaneously suspicious.
  
  "You know something."
  
  "I know a lot of things," the expression was definitely ironic. "Like the fact I swam five kilometres this morning in half of the time you needed for one. And I don't have the Curse of Achilles!"
  
  "You are a son of Poseidon," the Lightning Thief didn't let herself be fooled. "The moment you are plunged into a vast quantity of water, you are Achilles for all intents and purposes...only killing you instantly will prevent your super-regeneration from activating."
  
  The shrug the daughter of Hades received in return told her she was right.
  
  "Don't forget, the sooner you finish your swimming lessons, the faster you will get to the torture...I mean the sea fighting training!"
  
  One of the first things you learned when living too close to Perseus Jackson was that his 'slips of the tongue' were really, really nothing of the sort.
  
  "I thought our first strategy was to sink everything that dares interposing itself between us and our goals," the former Dread Empress glared...again. "A 'rain of missiles', I think, was the term employed during the last war meeting."
  
  "I said it was a strategy, yes," the Demigod who had stopped her from achieving a cursed form of immortality in the Underworld corrected with his usual cheerful expression. "I never said it was going to be the first."
  
  "If we let the enemy get in range, we're going to take a lot of damage."
  
  That was the very reason she had gone for flying fortresses in the first place, to be honest. Until the damned heroes somehow befriended an entire dragon colony, the fools serving Above had had no defence against her biggest weapons, and the same had applied to her Demons and the Legions of Terror.
  
  "True. And I don't plan for doing it more than three or four times. But you, as a former warlord, can appreciate how rare and vague the information about the Sea of Monsters is. The best sources we have are about the entrances of the Zone Mortalis...and practically everything ends once a Quest advances beyond that threshold."
  
  Bianca rolled her eyes.
  
  "The same was true about the Labyrinth and the Underworld, and it didn't slow you down."
  
  "No, but your little conspiracy wasn't expecting the Suicide Squad."
  
  On this point, it was impossible to argue. The Titaness and her mortal 'allies' would expect them once the Legionnaires were dealt with...they would be idiots not to.
  
  "Reading between the lines," the daughter of Hades cleared her throat after partially returning in the water to get rid of the sand that gathered after crawling on it several metres, "I assume the entrance is part of the problem."
  
  "Exactly!" Perseus grinned, and for a moment, the teenage girl who had been Dread Empress Triumphant found it...interesting. "More than ever, the Suicide Squad has to be unpredictable."
  
  "Unpredictability had its uses," a great deal of her successes as the Dread Empress of Praes had been because no one had been sure which nation was next on her list of conquests, "but there are only two ways to enter the Sea of Monsters, as far as I'm aware. The Clashing Rocks, which was used by the Argonauts. And the second is the Scylla-Charybdis Strait."
  
  The latter was obviously the most infamous, and, if the archives the son of Poseidon had acquired could be trusted, far more survivable than the former.
  
  "Yes. We will have to do something about that, don't you think?"
  
  Bianca raised an imperious eyebrow.
  
  "You intend to build a flying ship, then?"
  
  "No."
  
  Right, how surprising to not get a straight answer outside of a war meeting...
  
  "Fine. In that case, may you answer another question I have?"
  
  "By all means!"
  
  Bianca bared her teeth carnivorously.
  
  "Why is Lou Ellen coming this way with an identical swimsuit as the one I'm wearing today?"
  
  Her murderous glare was a 'hint' the son of Poseidon better find a very good explanation and quickly...
  
  16 July 2006, Demeter's Palace, Olympus
  
  It was a good day to be a Goddess.
  
  Persephone amended her thoughts an instant later. It always was a good time to be a Goddess on Olympus.
  
  Really, one just had to look between the differences of scenery between the divine mountain where the Gods ruled and the Underworld to acknowledge that. One minor effort, and she could watch New York City under the Olympians' seat of power. In one move, the Goddess of Spring could easily walk the streets of the Big Apple, and do...practically everything a Goddess wanted.
  
  But it wasn't just the scenery. It was the servants and the multitude of nymphs and spirits serving them at every hour of the day and the night.
  
  Oh, Hades' court was not short of personnel either...but they were dead, and their imagination, their sense of initiative, and pretty much everything made clear they couldn't equal the living.
  
  They could carry her shopping purchases, but ask them if the blue robe was better than the red? A few millennia later, you would still wait for the answer.
  
  The eldest daughter of Demeter left the dining hall where she had been enjoying a delicious soup of cold vegetables followed by two peaches supported by some red fruits' sorbet, and changed her clothes in a fraction of a second.
  
  There was a new collection of Paradise Summer being revealed today, and it would be a crime not to be present.
  
  Before it, though, Persephone summoned the holo-interface of Divine Amazon, and immediately ordered a new butterfly brooch. The last one was simply unfashionable with the shade of blonde she had chosen for the week.
  
  The recently divorced Goddess rapidly shifted her attention to something else, which was a weird beeping sound caused her to look around in surprise before she realised the command panel was the source of this noise.
  
  And the moment she reopened the page of Divine Amazon, Persephone was 'welcomed' by something she hadn't seen since the invention of the modern banking system.
  
  INSUFFICIENT CREDIT
  
  "What in the name of...this is impossible!" The Goddess of Spring exclaimed, but the red-black screen refused to vanish, no matter how many attempts to convince it that her order had to be satisfied. "I am using...the credit card Zeus gave me..."
  
  Persephone wasn't used to it, but within a few seconds, she was able to access the details of the 'Ultimate Thunder Credit Card' her genitor and once-lover had given her. And once she did, a scream exploded out of her throat.
  
  "A limit of one million Drachmas? What do you want me to do with one million Drachmas per month? I am not a peasant! I have needs! I need to do shopping!"
  
  It took Persephone quite a few minutes to calm herself.
  
  Zeus...it looked like their tryst amounted to nothing, and this credit card had just been a poor farewell's gift.
  
  It was...regrettable. And the great and mighty 'Master of Olympus' was going to regret it, she was ready to swear it on her shoes' collection! Before the day was out, the Goddess of Spring would make sure the entire East Coast would know Zeus' avarice was no mere rumour. And if he didn't amend his behaviour fast, in the next forty-eight hours, it would be the compromising photos which would be released!
  
  Not hers, obviously. She didn't want her mother on her case. But even without those, the last millennium of assuming the duties of the Queen of Hell had given her a library worth of blackmail where the owner of the Master Bolt was concerned.
  
  Persephone sighed before shrugging.
  
  It wasn't the end of the world...and she had made a small mistake. It would be corrected in due time. But first, ordering the brooch with the credit card's her mother had offered after the divorce was settled. And there also was this nightwear she couldn't wait to-
  
  WARNING! YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH DRACHMAS IN YOUR ACCOUNT FOR THIS PURCHASE!
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Persephone was aghast. Zeus she could understand; he had never bought more than ten presents a day when she was little.
  
  But her mother?
  
  This was unfair! She had barely used it! There had only been this marble antiquity of Sicilia yesterday...and the villa on the Cote D'Azur before that...and this small shopping session near London...but apart from that, she hadn't used it this month!
  
  "Mother!" The blonde-haired daughter of the Goddess of Agriculture and Harvest raged. "MOTHER! YOU NEED TO UNBLOCK MY CREDIT CARDS AT ONCE!"
  
  Silence answered her.
  
  "Don't you dare ignore me..." Persephone seethed, but deep inside her, for the first time, she felt unease. "I KNOW YOU LISTEN TO ME! MY SHOPPING CAN'T WAIT! I NEED A MILLION DRACHMAS FOR MY DAILY SPENDING!"
  
  The Goddess of Spring waited. There was no change on her credit card...and no message of apology.
  
  "By the dreary fur of that disgusting beast of Cerberus...it seems I have no choice."
  
  Taking a deep - and unnecessary - breath, Persephone materialised in her hand two midnight-coloured credit cards. Unlike the others which had been offered recently, these ones came from before her divorce, but she was certain her ex-husband wouldn't mind, after all it wasn't like he was really suing the mountain of precious gems and gold if she wasn't there to convince him to-
  
  YOUR DIVINE RIGHTS TO ACCESS UNDERWORLD FUNDS HAVE BEEN REVOKED
  
  "HERMES!" Persephone raged.
  
  Unlike the previous Olympians, the God of Speed was there when she turned her head.
  
  "Yes, oh delightful Queen of Spring?" The God smiled, his winged helmet under his arm.
  
  "Correct this!" She ordered, pointed a manicured finger at the red and black holo-screens which infuriated her by their mere presence.
  
  "I can't."
  
  "This wasn't a suggestion!"
  
  "I know. But I am sorry, Lady Persephone, I don't have the authority to do anything to solve your little...problem. My hands are tied. Your credit cards' accounts will remain empty for the rest of the month."
  
  "What do you mean, my accounts are empty for the rest of the month?" It was only the sixteenth! She wasn't going to live on Olympus for more than ten days without doing any shopping! It would be torture! It would be a crime against divinity! It would be-
  
  "I mean exactly that." Hermes said in an apologetic tone and with fierce gestures of 'don't shoot the messenger'. "Zeus will only replenish his with twenty thousand Drachmas per month anyway-"
  
  "TWENTY THOUSAND?" Persephone exploded. "TWENTY THOUSAND IS FOR PEASANTS!"
  
  "And your queenly mother has decided your shopping and living habits could benefit from some reasonable limits-"
  
  "I AM PERFECTLY REASONABLE!"
  
  Hermes silently conjured photos of her enjoying the swimming pools of twelve stars-class hostels in the last month, as well her Goddess tweets where she showed fifty of her cocktail dresses.
  
  "I was celebrating my divorce?"
  
  "That was a hell of a celebration," the Olympian in charge of all messengers, be they physical or divinely immaterial agreed, "I think you almost impressed Dionysus."
  
  Persephone groaned loudly. There were things you didn't want to do, and impressing Dionysus had to be near the top of the list.
  
  "But the world of finance is ruthless; your next money transfer will come from your mother; with Spring over, donations and Olympian subsidies are at an end."
  
  "There has to be a mistake," Persephone protested, "my mother-"
  
  "Paid one million Drachmas per day to let you enjoy your immediate post-divorce days? Yes, she did. And apparently she decided it was a great time to move past that phase."
  
  "But...I had my 'Better than Midas' credit cards of the Underworld..."
  
  Hermes snorted before giving her a tin apologetic smile.
  
  "I'm sorry, but Hades blocked everything on that front...and he's perfectly within his rights."
  
  "Surely there has to be a solution!"
  
  "Of course there is, my dear." The God of Travellers, Thieves and Trades said seriously.
  
  "There is?"
  
  "Spend fewer Drachmas, or find a job to earn more?"
  
  Persephone's aura flared up.
  
  "Oh, dear, I have a package for Tahiti! What a coincidence! Bye!"
  
  Persephone screamed in rage and threw a middle-sized tree through the window the Olympian had just used to leave.
  
  21 July 2006, somewhere not far from New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The ice stalagmites he had so slowly conjured were reduced to nothing in less time it took to say it, and the harpoon-trident caught him right in the legs.
  
  Perseus didn't even have time to think 'it was going to leave a few bruises' that the blow had sent him several hundreds of metres below the sea.
  
  Thank his luck Poseidon was his father in this world, for the average human would likely have been killed by such an attack.
  
  Even with all these advantages, the ex-Tyrant still needed around thirty seconds to make sure he wasn't going to bleed and attract of a lot of sharks and other inimical wildlife, before using his hydrokinesis to return to the surface at great speed.
  
  "Thirty-one seconds this time," Rhode noted on her surfboard. "You beat your record of last days by two seconds."
  
  Wordlessly, he used his powers to conjure a surfboard, though his was purely made of water, and after a groan of relief, fell upon it.
  
  "The last one was extremely painful, dear sister."
  
  "No pain, no gain, the mortals have known that for millennia," the titular Goddess of the Greek island said smugly. "Though if you will forgive me curiosity, what kind of plan do you have in mind? Thirty seconds in a fight against a God or a Goddess is not long."
  
  "For the moment," Perseus snarked back, "knowing I can hold thirty seconds is a prize by itself."
  
  His half-sister showed a face of concern.
  
  It was extremely warranted, because, yes, the rapport of strength in the Squad's disfavour was that bad.
  
  "I do not intend to challenge the Sea Titaness, obviously," unlike some Legionnaires who had boasted about it while drunk on their last night before sailing away, the former ruler of Helike had no desire to die within a few heartbeats, "but accidents happen. The wife of the Ocean Titan will certainly want to test us every step of the way. There are monsters and immortals which, while less dangerous than her, have macro-hydrokinesis capabilities or some skills which can cause the same effects in a sea battle."
  
  "This is good sense," the compliment was short, and of course, there was a 'but', "but it lasts as long as the weak link in a team, and most of your 'Suicide Squad is pitifully weak, brother. I heard what you said when you presented the young girls the paths they could follow. It is already producing small but encouraging results."
  
  "The question you want to ask is 'why didn't you try the same thing with the boys?', I think." Perseus authorised himself a small grin.
  
  "Yes," Rhode approved, "especially as the daughters of Hades and Hecate are the most powerful members of your Questers with a significant margin of superiority, assuming you're not counted among the order of battle. They have the Curse of Achilles, but let's stay honest: those two would likely be the foremost Champions of their generation if this era wasn't so...troubled."
  
  "I agree." Hades and Hecate had not been guilty of avarice when it became time to decide how many 'gifts' they would imbue into their own children. Neither had been Poseidon in his case, to be fair to the Earthshaker. "And to come back to your question, there are several reasons why I didn't replicate the 'girl strategy' with the 'male Suicide Squad'. Above all, I think, is that they have already acknowledged the paths which are offered to them. Dakota McDonald, for example, can be the innocent guy I always transform into a Don Juan who will create a fantastic orgy...at the worst moment possible, it goes without saying."
  
  Some eight kilometres away, a black-haired son of Bacchus shivered, and thought someone had stepped on his grave.
  
  "Ethan Nakamura can be a grim reaper, live up to the treacherous lieutenant nickname I have given him, or follow another path. Luke Castellan can be the kind of the thieves, an unbeatable swordsman, a tormented hero, or something else. And what apply to them apply to the others I haven't mentioned."
  
  "Like with the son of Hephaestus? An explosive Tinkerer, a Master of Flames, or...something else?"
  
  "That's exactly what I wanted to convey, yes." Perseus clicked between his fingers. "Of course to achieve that, no, before they can think of achieving that, they need to stop basking in the greatest sin one can commit in this world."
  
  "And this great sin is?" Rhode wondered in amused tone.
  
  "Hesitating."
  
  The Sea Goddess who happened to be his half-sister said utterly silent, the only sign she was conscious being her long legs often transforming into a mermaid tail.
  
  "Yes, this is fair." She answered after a long period of deep thought.
  
  "There are other reasons, of course. Another important issue is that they have to ask; while I'm delighted to intervene in the affairs of others, I respect the privacy of many...that's why I said those critical words to some of the female members and not to others. Hammering the hesitant parties with information they aren't ready to accept would be extremely counter-productive."
  
  "You have a point, but entering a Zone Mortalis with a force which is plagued by doubts and uncertainty, whether they want to admit or not, is hardly promising for your victory odds."
  
  "I will find a way to turn it into strength," Perseus promised sincerely, "assuming we indeed arrive to the Sea of Monsters with those ridiculous levels of indecisiveness, naturally."
  
  "I will hold up to your word." Rhode said seriously before snorting. "You can go rest in your Barrack. Training is over for today."
  
  His half-sister plunged under the waves, and it was only a question of seconds before his senses failed to locate her. Though she had not the strength of their father, Rhode had truly the celerity of an Olympian...at least as long as she stayed under the waves.
  
  The son of Poseidon sighed in relief, not too loudly, but he did it. And then he largely breathed out and let the contact with the sea heal him, because, damn it, being defeated nine times in violent and one-sided manners was leaving marks. And he had no intention to return at New Byzantium looking like he had been used as a chow-toy by Cerberus.
  
  "I know you listened to every word we said, you know." The ex-Tyrant said whimsically.
  
  Unfortunately, the not-so-mysterious observer remained invisible and silent.
  
  "It is not healthy, you know, doing that." The retort, alas, failed to come. "More powerful entities have faded for far better reasons."
  
  This, at last, brought a weak shimmering.
  
  "You do not care about family..."
  
  It was a plaintive whimper, carried by the winds, and if he wasn't so close, it would have been entirely unheard by anyone.
  
  "That's not completely true, isn't it? What was true several years ago is changing day after day. It's just my conception of family is different than yours...Hestia."
  
  2 August 2006, The Senatorial Amphitheatre, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Michael knew going to the Roman part of the town was a bad idea. He had said so to his brothers and sisters. He had gone with them anyway, because, hell, what was the worst thing that could happen?
  
  Yeah, he shouldn't have asked that one aloud.
  
  Yes, it had been...stupid.
  
  The theatre spectacle was over, but his problems were just beginning.
  
  And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that despite the advanced hour, the atmosphere was still incredibly hot; in fact it was nearly suffocating, with not a breeze in sight and Demigods paying fortunes in ice creams and enchanted freezing solutions to forget for a short moment the summer overheating.
  
  No, the big problem wasn't coming from that direction. If Michael yew was sweating, it was for an entirely different reason.
  
  Said reason had black hair, green eyes, and was grinning like a mad loon on drugs.
  
  "I'm telling you, Jackson, Clarisse tried to punch me first!"
  
  "No," the son of Poseidon countered, "first, you used a Cursed Arrow on her. Are you trying to trick me, son of Apollo?"
  
  "No, I'm just saying-"
  
  "That somehow you could release a projectile into an Ares' backside without facing any violent repercussions? And at close-range, to boot? I'm a great admirer of liars, being naturally predisposed to monologues circling around the truth, but I didn't try something as brazen as you did..."
  
  This, Michael Yew knew, was a bigger lie than anything he had said tonight. According to the rumours-
  
  "Fortunately for you, I'm willing to close my eyes on this violent method of seduction."
  
  Relief and outrage fought inside his heart. Outrage won one-sidedly.
  
  "I'm not trying to seduce Clarisse, Jackson!"
  
  "Then you won't object if as reparation for this tumultuous incident, I recruit you as my personal bard for the next Great Quest which will no doubt come before the end of this year."
  
  "Yes! No! Err...Yes! Yes, yes I object! I do not want to go on a ship!"
  
  "That's funny, you were pretending exactly the contrary yesterday evening in front of a lovely daughter of Aphrodite!"
  
  Michael cursed mentally Silena Beauregard. It wasn't enough for the daughter of Aphrodite to refuse to date him, she had to report what he said to the craziest Demigod of all Byzantium?
  
  "Hypothetically, I mentioned that-"
  
  "Hypothetically, you wanted to give her some affectionate cuddles on a yacht. I have a yacht. There will some nice girls aboard-"
  
  "Clarisse will be here. And the same will be true about the Lightning Thief!"
  
  "I'm sure the former will be very forgiving." Clarisse? Forgiving? They were speaking about the same bloodthirsty Demigoddess, right? "And the latter still ignores some ugly rumours you spread were coming from your brain. Of course, it could always change..."
  
  Michael snorted.
  
  "I am not going to let you blackmail me, Jackson! I am a proud Quester, a son of Apollo-"
  
  "Who is doing big efforts to be as narcissist and a womaniser than his father," Jackson continued after a yawn.
  
  "Who is doing big efforts...hey! No, that's not true!"
  
  "Oh? You did not use that guitar to-"
  
  The black-haired archer gritted his teeth.
  
  "That was a single incident! I'm a respectable healer now!"
  
  "Of course you are, that's why you're always trying to date the daughters of Aphrodite..."
  
  "That's not my fault they're beginning to take their military training seriously!"
  
  "No, that's mine," the mad Demigod answered with a cheerful expression. "Well, that was interesting."
  
  Michael breathed out.
  
  "I formally hire you as musician and healer for the next great adventure! Your title remains 'Bard', though."
  
  "Out of the question!" Michael refused loudly, and no, he didn't care about how many heads turned in their direction. The woods near the Barracks would likely hide their identities anyway. "I won't participate in the repeat of the insanity of the Great Quest you recently completed! I have a future here!"
  
  "No you do not." Gargoyles appeared out of nowhere and poured some water on their master's head, before disappearing as fast as they had arrived. "Ah...better. No, poor unfortunate son of Apollo, you do not have a future. You're not good enough right now to be an archer trainer, not against the competition of your own cabin, the stubborn daughters of Nike, or the Huntresses of the Moon. You're skilled enough to deserve the archer name, you're half-way dedicated to the healer path. Enough that Chiron regularly accepts your services, and your musical talents are sufficient to not be thrown out after a minute of concert. But by trying to pursue every path, you excel in none of them...and that means limited gains of Drachmas, failures to woo any girl who is not Clarisse-"
  
  "I'm telling you, I'm not trying to date that brute! And whatever I do in my private life, it's my choice and no one else!"
  
  "Yes, and that's why if nothing changes, you will die before you're twenty, or be a desperate alcoholic trying to convince yourself you're a poet-warrior before you're thirty. I offer you a chance to change that, my bard."
  
  "No, thanks." The son of Apollo shook his head several times. "I heard what you did with Dakota, and I'm not stupid enough to believe you won't change me into a rabbit or some sort of stupid animal-"
  
  "I won't." The crazy son of Poseidon raised his up as if he was about to swear a solemn oath. "I'm ready to swear it on the new Goddess of the Hell Sea!"
  
  If anything, it made Michael Yew more suspicious, not less. Jackson was making that concession too easily...
  
  "Why? You enjoy music so much you can't live without a song or two every hour?"
  
  "I love music, but not to this degree of passion," the predictable answer came, "no, I'm ready to swear this because bards must survive to play the music of the final battle at the most dramatic moment...and the reason they often do...is because they're kidnapped beforehand to serve as bait by the heroes and villains' ultimate nemesis."
  
  Well, that settled the matter.
  
  "It's even worse than my previous assumption," the Vitakinesis specialist snarked, "the answer remains no."
  
  "Ah, what a shame," Perseus yawned again, in a completely exaggerated manner.
  
  This was a pre-agreed signal, for Gargoyles ran to his immediate right, carrying a...
  
  "Hey, that's a Troy Rocks guitar!"
  
  "Indeed it is! I am glad you recognise the model, musician lieutenant! A superb guitar, which can also be used as a weapon, as I'm sure you are aware! And you would need both, as my bard!"
  
  "For the last time, Jackson, I am not-"
  
  There was a cracking sound behind him.
  
  Michael Yew turned...and whimpered.
  
  Clarisse La Rue was not five steps away...and where the hell did she find this titanic big axe sprouting lightning and an aura of bloodlust?
  
  "By the Pit's monsters..."
  
  "As I'm fond of saying, oh son of Apollo," his eyes remained on the demonic daughter of Ares, but he could imagine this eternally-cursed smile, "one has always a choice, no matter the situation. Yours begin with a golden weapon-guitar."
  
  "Will..." Michael swallowed very heavily. "Will she stop trying to murder me if I accept?"
  
  "I'm afraid not," Perseus Jackson...apologised? "You should have accepted sooner. Now, possession of my gift will largely determine if you are able to save half of your original teeth and not require a soup regimen for several days..."
  
  "I hate you." The archer-healer moaned.
  
  "I know. But the Suicide Squad will be thankful for your sacrifice and will compensate you adequately...provided you accept. Otherwise, I'm afraid we don't spend a Drachma on a non-member's funerals..."
  
  Michael grimaced and opened his mouth to answer.
  
  7 August 2006, Hades Fortress, the Underworld
  
  It was very kind of the son of Poseidon to offer him a splendid real-life scene. Laughing as he inaugurated his brand-new movie room after the renovation of his Palace was declared complete was a gift that none of his siblings would think of.
  
  Hades chuckled as the miniature copy of a black-haired Apollo sprinted and did his best to stay away from the enraged Demigoddess channelling the fury of the Viking berserkers of old.
  
  "I didn't know guitars could be that resistant..." The wealthiest God of the Greek-Roman Pantheon smiled as the son of Apollo's desperate attempts before wincing when the implacable axe, wielded expertly, slammed against the posterior of a certain Michael Yew.
  
  And then, just as they were reaching the climax of the evening, the familiar chime and pressure indicating someone wanted an invitation in his domain manifested itself.
  
  "And I thought being the God of the Dead would at least grant me lengthy holidays..." why was it that every time he began to think the boundaries of the Underworld had reached their maximal capacity, another Death deity suddenly decided to fade and to 'generously gift him' their after-life and the souls of the departed which went with it? Why was it that the paperwork always multiplied illogically while he had his back turned? And why was it the idiots ruling above the earth thought he was conspiring against them when the reality that was that most of the problems were entirely the result of their negligence and laziness? "Let's see how bad it is going to be. Invitation accepted."
  
  Hades' could not pretend he felt the shadow of a feeling of stupefaction when Hermes materialised five metres away.
  
  As always, the 'Messenger of the Gods' must have robbed someone important, for the large bag he let fall against the marble of his private cinema was filled with bullion.
  
  The clothes of his nephew were also quite ostentatious...one would almost assume Hermes had participated in a bullfight in a persona of a Spanish matador personally before going stealing...some bank or another place where a lot of gold was stored.
  
  "Oh, uncle, you are looking at Byzantium Live too?"
  
  "No," Hades said coldly, making no secret the arrival of Hermes at this particular moment displeased him, "I have bought several Iris Drones to have my private source of entertainment. What do you want, nephew? It is very late, and I was quite entertained by the methods of recruitment Poseidon's son is using."
  
  "Yes, he has that gift, eh?" Hermes chuckled. "I can't say his poor victims of the Suicide Squad will enjoy the next weeks-"
  
  "Hermes. The message." Hades had no wish to waste one hour or two, not when every word of the conversation would certainly be known to half of Olympus within two hours.
  
  "Oh yes, the message." Hermes licked his lips nervously, which given his appearance of toreador, was frankly quite humorous. "Your sister, the mighty and benevolent Demeter, wishes for you to reconsider the breaking of your marital ties with her beautiful daughter."
  
  Hades did something he did only very rarely, in general not more than once a year.
  
  He exploded in raucous laughter.
  
  "HA! AT LAST I HAVE HEARD THESE WORDS! HA! HA! HA!"
  
  "Uncle?"
  
  Hades laughed harder, so hard in fact that tears fell from his eyes, and were transformed into priceless diamonds by the time they hit the dark marble under his feet.
  
  "Tell me, nephew. How long did it take for her to become unbearable once my wise sister tried to block the accounts and establish a daily budget for the credit cards?"
  
  "Err...about forty minutes? And it was a monthly budget, not a daily one."
  
  Hades snickered.
  
  "Demeter has always been far more courageous than I was."
  
  And he was sincere; it took a lot of courage - though more rational beings would call it sacrifice or suicidal insanity - to prevent Persephone from doing her shopping. The last time Hades had tried to impose her some modicum of restraint was the last time before this year where he had to renovate a large part the ancestral seat-fortress of the Underworld, and when he had earned Persephone's pardon, the money flow had caused an hyper-inflation across a lot of domains, be they mortal or divine. It had been in 1929, and even the Mist had not been sufficient to hide completely the magnitude of the economical disaster.
  
  "Ahem...err...what am I going to tell her?"
  
  "No."
  
  For the first time, Hermes looked like he was about to cry, and it would not be to express his joy to Olympus and beyond.
  
  "You're not serious! Now that the Spring Goddess hasn't the Drachmas to indulge in her ruinous lifestyle-"
  
  "No doubt she's beginning to bargain compromising photos and videos of everything and everyone refusing to 'donate' for a good cause. What?" The Lord of Hell added when Hermes allowed him to see an extreme expression of surprise. "This is my ex-wife we're speaking about. Unlike a certain Master of Olympus, I really lived with her most of the time she spent in the Underworld, and that means I'm very well aware of her qualities...and her flaws."
  
  "That...yes, but with the problems caused by the absence of Ares and Hephaestus, your...the Council vigorously beg you to accept Demeter's request."
  
  "And I said no." Hades would deny forever the amusement he felt right now, but...well, he did feel righteous satisfaction hearing his brother, nephews and nieces admit out loud the reality that they couldn't handle the presence of his ex-wife, especially not where the financial perspectives were discussed. "It should go without saying, but Persephone is Persephone, and her choices are not falling into my domain anymore. I heard a lot of pleas from Demeter and the rest of the family. I have yet to receive a letter from Persephone demanding-"
  
  An enormous pile of carmine letters poured over the bullion bag of Hermes.
  
  Before five seconds, they doubled in numbers...before tripling and tripling again.
  
  "I thought I should reiterate, beloved uncle, the point of your former wife being incredibly peevish about the reality of being cut off from the Underworld's resources."
  
  Hades winced...before nodding regretfully.
  
  "Consider me warned. My decision stands. If Persephone really wants something, she can come pleading her cause in person. I will listen to what she has to say. I am a Judge by necessity, and a merciful God by choice."
  
  Hermes gaped.
  
  Hades bared his teeth and smiled.
  
  "Now, dear nephew, I think you have other messages to deliver...and I want to see the daily report of the adventures of the New Constantinople Legionnaires on their way to the Sea of Monsters. Unless there's anything else?"
  
  15 August 2006, Hephaestus Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  Before he was captured, Hephaestus was busy creating weapons for Olympus.
  
  Now that he was a prisoner, Hephaestus was still ordered to create weapons, only for a different mistress.
  
  In that respect, the God of Fire and the Forges would truthfully argue if someone asked him the question that not much has changed.
  
  He was ankle-deep in luminescent green-blue water which prevented him from escaping or manifesting more than embers of his divine form, yes. But this was no more than a passing disagreement compared to the working conditions of some locations he had had to endure in the last millennia.
  
  Industry was rarely clean, and his genitor and fellow members of the Olympian Council were rarely supporting of giving him additional funds to solve these 'minor issues'.
  
  Yes, there were a lot of practical reasons why most of his Forges' assistants were automatons. Mortals tended to be crippled in short order before learning anything useful, and couldn't be repaired in a few hours.
  
  "You aren't so different from my genitor, Titaness." The ugliest of the Olympians grumbled as a platform carried away standard Legionnaire equipment accompanied by several heavy machine guns and enchanted swords. "For all your pretty declarations, you're pursuing the same exact goals as he did, and you're arming fools who will cause more damage to the prosperous era we're living into."
  
  "You are wrong, my dear Hephaestus." The vaguely feminine shape was not even a fraction of the power of his jailor, but the sheer power it released was...impressive. "Changing the status quo is the exact reason I'm doing this; it is not unfortunate collateral damage. As for this prosperous era we're living into...all the sources of water are getting polluted. Wars are raging on foreign shores, killing millions by the very weapons you forged. The ancient domain of Pan is torched or pillaged forest after forest, wild refuge after wild refuge. The Council of Olympus was given this world on an Orichalcum tray, and the mess they made of it would be impossible to believe if I hadn't seen it myself."
  
  Evidently, seen like that...
  
  "It does not matter. Sooner or later, Olympus will muster its armies. My spiteful mother may have hidden most of the royal funds, but new taxes can be created and millions of Drachmas collected. When the Demigods will have failed, the Council will act upon Athena's plans, and for all the affection he holds for you, even Poseidon won't be able to stand neutral. Not when one of your mortal allies has decided to usurp the War Throne."
  
  Thethys' watery figure gained in intensity and detail, until a nearly similar 'Pirate Queen' as the one who had utterly defeated him stood in his half-flooded weapon production centre.
  
  "You do not think mortal Legionnaires and Questers will be able to free you? I would believe you of all people would respect mortal ingenuity, especially after the Lightning Thief incident."
  
  "I greatly respect mortal ingenuity in all things," Hephaestus grouched, annoyed more than he would admit by the teasing, some of his best ideas when it came to new bridges, buildings, and metal alloys were improvements of human creations. "But I can add two plus two, Titaness. The armada of the ambitious Roman-Egyptian duo was already far more powerful than any naval force Byzantium and Constantinople can muster in less than a year, and the weapons I was forced to deliver to your allies and the other associates I have seen since my imprisonment have made matters worse. The Sea of Monsters is nothing more than a gigantic trap."
  
  Hephaestus wanted to dearly hope someone like the son of Poseidon would challenge the ugly destiny the Fates were rumoured to have in mind for him, and achieve a miracle.
  
  The God of the Forges had not succumbed to despair in millennia of disasters, brotherly disappointments, and ill-conceived marriage; he wasn't going to succumb now.
  
  But this time, the 'game' had really been prepared for the Demigods to lose badly.
  
  Hades' hellion of a daughter and Zeus' own efforts, once combined, had made sure the last Great Quest was nearly impossible to accomplish, but the Labyrinth had been a loophole no one had thought of.
  
  "Yes," the divine being who had sponsored automaton creation along with a million other useful inventions found it oddly reassuring Thethys remained completely truthful here. "But I have to be sure the rising storm won't renounce at the first obstacle. If the Olympian Order is to be challenged or saved, the sons and daughters of the Western civilisation will succeed in the trials I have erected between them and victory."
  
  "May Hades be merciful to their poor souls when they will be led in front of him." Hephaestus moved slightly his head to ensure the new batch of shields was up to Legionnaire standards. It was.
  
  "I'm sure your blessing will be direly needed in the next hours." Hephaestus didn't turn his head again, but his jailor gave him the information he hadn't asked for anyway. "The Legionnaire Expeditionary Force will reach the entrance of the Sea of Monsters tomorrow."
  
  16 August 2006, The Scylla-Charybdis Strait, Entrance of the Sea of Monsters, close to the Solomon Islands
  
  Centurion Michael Kahale, proud member of the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legion, had a bad feeling.
  
  The Expeditionary Force had, so far, made excellent progress since its departure from the Bay of New Constantinople, courtesy of the improved engines Olympus had released in a unique technology transfer a decade ago.
  
  The monster attacks, while regular and visibly impressive, came no more than thrice a day and were easily repelled.
  
  Except the Emporiae, their oldest Neosho-class oiler, no ship of the 1st Squadron had experienced significant mechanical problems.
  
  And yet, the son of Venus had a bad feeling.
  
  He had agreed to the course of action their Tribune had ordered.
  
  They had many warships, and the most powerful of the squadron was the Ave Caesar, which was currently transporting him and the elite of the 1st Cohort.
  
  It was nothing but stress, he tried to convince himself...and he was far from successful.
  
  "We see the Strait, Centurion," Decurion Vince saluted before giving his report. "The Mist has faded now we're sufficiently close. "The radar has difficulties giving us firing solutions, unfortunately."
  
  "We always knew the magical interferences were going to be bad the moment we arrived in sight of the Sea of Monsters." Michael said stoically.
  
  His subordinate grunted, clearly implying wordlessly that whatever problems had been hypothesised before their departure had clearly been underestimated, at least where the radars were concerned.
  
  "In that case, we better go find our armours." Their personal weapons were already by their sides; the progression across the Pacific had been easy, not eventless.
  
  Half a minute later, Octavian's voice resonated through the modified Ticonderoga-class Cruiser, ordering them to do exactly that.
  
  "I'm beginning to hate this voice," one of the Legionnaires murmured to another. In the semi-darkness of the compartment near the armoury, it was impossible to put a name on his face, and the son of Venus wasn't going to try.
  
  "Tell me about it...all bark in politics, but when it is time to draw the blades, it is not the monsters which must be wary of his gladius..."
  
  "The snipers better be ready!" the veteran Centurion spoke loudly to put an end to those very insubordinate comments. "Remember the plan and we will go through the Strait without losing anyone!"
  
  Michael was back on the deck right in time to hear the order he had known was going to come...and still he felt anxious, like it was his first battle.
  
  "STEER TOWARDS SCYLLA!"
  
  Michael gritted his teeth and his sword hand clenched around the hilt of his short sword.
  
  He knew the logic. Cruiser or auxiliary ship, the result was the same when it came to one of the greatest sea monsters in existence, one which, according to the rumours, had been the most powerful child of Poseidon and led the armies of the Sea to uncountable victories.
  
  For this unbreakable loyalty to Poseidon, Charybdis had been transformed into an abominable monster by Zeus himself - though there still were many rumours to this day that when it came to the curse, the Master of Olympus had received help from some unknown parties.
  
  "By all the evils of the Pit..."
  
  The comment was fully justified, for Charybdis was in sight.
  
  Michael never stopped taking around his surroundings...but his hear beat faster and he was sweating.
  
  He was hardly the only one.
  
  At first, one could almost think the objects which had appeared like a particularly dangerous reef were particularly sharp rocks, the terror of navigators...or failing that, an enormous group of prehistoric sharks waiting for a feasting of Demigod flesh.
  
  It was neither.
  
  Those were Charybdis' teeth, a dentition that few monsters would ever be able to equal, and thanks the Gods for that.
  
  The rest of the body which was revealed a few seconds later was far worse.
  
  It was a maw. The ugliest maw in a world of monsters, or if there was one uglier, the son of Venus didn't want to watch what was worse than that.
  
  "FIRE!" Their Tribune roared. "All Legionnaires to the battle-stations! Non-Legionnaires, stay below deck, and for the love of the Legion, do not try to go to an exposed position!"
  
  Less than five seconds later, the Ave Caesar, the Rhenus, and the Danubius unleashed their considerable arsenal, while the giant eagles of the Dominus Caelum did their best to help giving them the most accurate coordinates for artillery targeting.
  
  Soon enough, there was an enormous column of smoke coming from the left side of the strait, and many Legionnaires cheered.
  
  Then the sky went completely dark, and the entirety of the good mood in the world evaporated.
  
  Something enormous hit the port side of the Ave Caesar, and when it was revealed what it was, Michael screamed.
  
  The thing was simply monstrous. It may look vaguely like a Hydra's head...if an Hydra had suffered countless mutations, had tentacles and screaming heads all over its neck, and smelled like ten thousand corpses.
  
  "FIRE! FORCE SCYLLA'S HEAD TO TURN BACK!"
  
  Years of training made sure Michael and all the Legionnaires of the Ave Caesar obeyed.
  
  The lightning-pilums were thrown by the dozens, and enormous machine guns entered action while some giant eagles tried to claw out the eyes of the abomination.
  
  It was not enough to deter the monster.
  
  A black tongue struck near the prow, and two Legionnaires were impaled on yellowish teeth, while three others screamed and collapsed as they were drowned in a torrent orange-green poison.
  
  The second attack saw another head devour one of their Giant Eagles like it was nothing.
  
  All around them the sea was a cauldron of violence, though it was difficult to know because it was of the storm raging in the sky, or it was because of Charybdis.
  
  The Strait itself was shaking with the fury of the monsters and the elements.
  
  The attacks continued, and Michael watched powerlessly as despite their precautions, Scylla's heads had somehow found their way to one of the compartments containing the non-military personnel, and now the unfortunate souls shrieked as the monstrous maws withdrew to devour them away in the huge cavern-lair where Scylla had waited for millennia.
  
  And then the attacks stopped...though as Michael realised, it wasn't because Scylla was satiated with about a dozen victims, but because it had found juicier and easy prey.
  
  The Emporiae was the oldest ship of the 1st Squadron, and the Centurion had voted to acquire a more modern replacement...only to see his advice dismissed from every direction.
  
  Michael Kahale deeply regretted not having more convincing, for with its underwhelming armour and its pre-battle mechanical problems-
  
  The Emporiae was slaughtered. The four heads of Scylla never stopped attacking, until the damage it caused was just too much.
  
  The Captain of the modified oiler, or whoever was in charge of the ship now, tried to violently steer his command away before Scylla returned to finish the job.
  
  Unfortunately, by a capricious turn of destiny, it was the moment Charybdis was beginning to suck a gigantic quantity of water.
  
  The crew of the Emporiae's tried to change course as it acknowledged the danger, but it was far too late.
  
  There was no order which came from the command centre of the Ave Caesar, and anyway, what good would it have made?
  
  Only an immortal could have saved the Emporiae by then, and the Expeditionary Force's Centurion saw no God or Goddess intervene to help them.
  
  The Emporiae left about a third of its hull against the teeth of Poseidon's daughter-abomination, and when it was finally through them, the maelstrom of water annihilated it so fast it was as if the ship had disappeared, not been disintegrated like it was just an insignificant defeat.
  
  "THEIR DEATHS WILL BE AVENGED!" Octavian proclaimed. "I SWEAR IT ON THE NAME OF APOLLO AND-"
  
  The angry seas drowned the rest of the speech.
  
  Michael had wondered if it was Charybdis or the storm at fault minutes ago; well, his curiosity was satisfied.
  
  It had been Charybdis.
  
  The hellish storm was only releasing its apocalyptic fury now.
  
  "GO BACK INSIDE THE SHIP!" The Centurion screamed as the sky and the seas decided now was an excellent moment to sink the Ave Caesar. "THE BATTLE IS OVER! WE MUST REPAIR EVERYTHING SCYLLA HAS DAMAGED!"
  
  There were no lightning bolts, but the power of the waves and the wind power might be more terrifying opponents than the monstrous duo they had just been lucky enough to survive.
  
  One thing was sure, however.
  
  Given the weather conditions, Michael was pretty sure it was going to be impossible to enter the Sea of Monsters in the 'impeccable battle-formation' Octavian's plan had called for.
  
  Everything outside the lights of the Ave Caesar was darkness and the dark fury of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  The voice he had tried to keep quiet in his head chose this moment to shoot a poisoned arrow.
  
  It only was the entrance of the Zone Mortalis...
  
  17 September 2006, Sea of Monsters
  
  "By the cursed song of the Sirens, that was a hell of a storm. This was a very good idea to take refuge in this cove, Captain!"
  
  "Aye, it was." And since he was such a generous and kind soul, Edward returned the compliment. "And it was thanks to your work, Navigator, we didn't throw our ship on those fiendish sand banks and the two hidden reefs which could have doomed us if we weren't careful enough."
  
  "Thank you, Captain."
  
  "You're welcome."
  
  Edward stopped talking and watched the sky.
  
  It was magnificently blue.
  
  It was...pure.
  
  It was difficult to watch it and not be in awe. Because not a day ago, it had been night black, as one of the most powerful storms he'd ever witnessed had unleashed its wrath upon this part of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Because his men and himself had been so long denied the freedom to watch the sky and the stars, every day they could enjoy the bounties of the sea was blessed beyond measure.
  
  "We have lost all contact with the Roman fleet, of course." His Navigator informed him with a grimace.
  
  Edward made a dismissive sound.
  
  "Mark Antony is a competent Admiral, and his wife understands mortal sailors aren't meant to command the winds and the seas." A thin smile arrived to his lips. "I think we aren't at any risk of dying today. The fleet must have been dispersed across the Sea of Monsters, assuming they haven't been sunk. This was a hell of a storm, after all."
  
  "Isn't it convenient, Captain? The enemy fleet is signalled to enter via the Charybdis-Scylla Strait, and the worst storm of the year chooses this moment to strike."
  
  "Of course it was convenient for the enemy," Edward agreed with a vicious smile. "And yes, before you ask, I'm certain it was some divine intervention."
  
  "Poseidon?"
  
  "Or one of his daughters? He has one who is all about violent storms, right?"
  
  "Yes, Captain. But she has an unpronounceable name."
  
  The Captain chuckled.
  
  "Yes, Greek names often aren't easy on the tongue." He touched the magical collar around his throat, the very object of the slavery imposed upon him after being returned to a human body. "But as I said, a storm like that is both a blessing and a curse. Marc Antony's fleet and most of our allies' ships have been cast aside by the waves, and thus interception is a doomed affair. But the enemy's fleet will be unable to maintain cohesion and discipline too. Forget a line of battle or anything clever, boys. Each ship of the dogs of Olympus will be alone in the Sea of Monsters, unable to support each other."
  
  "And what does that mean for us, Captain?"
  
  "That means," Edward grinned, "that for all the fact we have lost centuries transformed into guinea pigs, for all the fact the Gods have given our enemies monsters of steel powered by some incredible technologies, we are not defenceless, boys!"
  
  His crew cheered. Brave fools, all of them.
  
  "I swear to you, my men." His crew went silent. "We may have been enslaved by those magical collars. We may have lost an eternity on this damned island. We have been raped, tortured, and endured many heinous things from the sorceress and her apprentices. By their fault, our bodies are now old and fat."
  
  His was no exception. Where he had been muscled and inspiring envy and terror in equal measure, the first time the bitch had taunted him with a mirror, the horrible sight of his double belly and his missing teeth had almost let him pray the Gods that it was a nightmare.
  
  "But," Edward grinned, "rest assured, boys, that my resolve to gain our revenge has never been stronger."
  
  His feet slammed against the black wood of the ship's gun deck.
  
  "This ship," the son of Ares known as Edward Teach hissed, and the power of his line flowed in him, "is the Queen Anne's Revenge."
  
  His fists were raised above his head.
  
  "We will be free. Circe will pay for what she has done to us."
  
  His crew was bloodthirsty. He could feel it.
  
  "There will be many battles in this place where legends are made. If ours have been forgotten, we will remind mortals and immortals why we were feared centuries ago!"
  
  He was Edward Teach, son of Ares. He was a pirate.
  
  He was the pirate who had brought fleets and alliances of Demigods to their knees.
  
  "I AM BLACKBEARD!" The Captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge roared. "AND I WILL BE THE KING OF PIRATES!"
  
  Author's note: An Impractical Guide to Godhood will continue in the next chapter, whose hypothetical title may be: Interlude 2 King of Pirates.
  
  This story has a beta now, Mfriede. Full credit goes to him for beta-ing my writing before everything is updated on different websites.
  
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  Interlude King of Pirates
  Chapter 15
  
  Interlude
  
  King of Pirates
  
  "The pirates are the scum of the seven seas. There are no laws they respect save their own. They do not care whether you serve an Emperor or a God, only the amount of wealth your ship transports into its hull. They will rape women, plunder everything they want, and sail away leaving nothing but ruins, the cries of broken families, and untold devastation.
  
  In an age of hypocrisy and betrayal, I find their honesty absolutely admirable."
  
  Words attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  17 September 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Annabeth, like the majority of Quester Demigoddesses of New Byzantium, knew the Barrack Poseidon had built for his children was bigger inside than the outside boundaries and the laws of physics should have made possible.
  
  The children of Athena had known it for a long time, and knew the power from Zeus' brother was definitely at play here. By using advanced physics and no small amount of gold, in recent years they had copied it partially to increase the available space while keeping the outside appearance the same.
  
  What she had not known, however, was that the Barrack of Poseidon had a large and exquisite underground basement too.
  
  In hindsight, she should have thought about it. Most of the waters from the fountains and the little pools was returned to the ocean where it had come from, but the rest?
  
  The rest, she knew now, was going below...where other water-themed activities between walls of blue-white mosaic and statues of maritime ornamentation were hidden from view.
  
  Many of these things were perfectly functional and efficient, of this the daughter of Athena had no doubt.
  
  But the water was also used to make sure the ultra-modern computer room remained at a fresh and pleasant temperature.
  
  "How the hell did you manage to gain ten Vulcan X-MAXFORGE-4000 computers, Jackson?" The grey-eyed Demigoddess asked bewildered. "My brothers were still trying to buy one last month!"
  
  Trying and failing, it went without saying. Olympian bureaucracy and technology protection laws were the bane of many Demigods, even if they only wanted these computers for playing video games.
  
  "Oh, it wasn't that difficult. After our past disagreements, the Amazons were ready to forget little mistakes provided I had plenty of Drachmas to spend. So I did. I don't even know why they were so surprised to see me back. This 'Amazon firm' they created has formidable potential, be it on the divine and the non-divine spheres."
  
  "Wait a minute..." Annabeth Chase tried to think as fast as she could. "The Amazons are the owners of Amazon?"
  
  "Err...yes?" Perseus looked at her like it was evidence itself, and for once...the irritating Demigod wasn't completely wrong. "You didn't think that the firm would have found a name like this if it wasn't done by one by them? If they weren't, it would have fallen in the God of Merchants, Trade, and Thieves' portfolio."
  
  Yes, he had...a point. Amazon should be something Hermes would have launched a hostile takeover against years ago...unless it was the idea of a group with a long arm and interesting connections.
  
  The Amazons qualified. Those fierce female warriors were deadly, be it on the battlefield or whatever they decided to focus their minds upon.
  
  "Aren't they going to suffer, though? I mean, the God of War is their patron, and he is prisoner..."
  
  "Astute remark, oh daughter of Athena." The child of the Earthshaker smirked. "To be honest, I don't think my apologies are the reason they accepted to trade with me again. I had...some things that the proud Amazons could use as insurance should a certain God never return to sit on his bloody throne."
  
  The smile quickly disappeared and an expression of contrariety replaced it.
  
  "A pity their Queen is so unreliable. The lieutenants are fine, but she is a problem. I will have to take care of this in the near future once the Sea of Monsters' affair is no longer at the order of the day. Password: Irritant did nothing wrong."
  
  Without warning, a near-transparent wall that Annabeth hadn't even noticed slide from left to right, allowing Perseus and she to use the small blue-red stairs which was the only way to access the computer room.
  
  And as the machines were all online and showing a familiar Roman warship, the audacity of Jackson's schemes once more struck her poor brain like a mace of celestial bronze during one of the capture-the-flag games.
  
  "You wanted the Vulcan X-MAXFORGE-4000 machines because they had sufficient power and technology to control long-range drones."
  
  "That's what I like about you, Amanda. When you aren't busy pretending to be a spider in a human body, you have enough brains to arrive easily to the good conclusions. Yes, that's exactly why I bought those extremely expensive pieces of technology."
  
  Annabeth scowled, being forcefully reminded that Perseus Jackson was utterly crazy.
  
  "My name is Annabeth Chase, seaweed brain," the daughter of Athena hissed between her teeth before considering the words said mad boy one by one. "The drones...they weren't sold from Amazon stocks."
  
  "They weren't." The confirmation was immediate. "My sister, for all her limitations, has...interesting friends. The drones are underwater and purpose-built for all sea-based observation and information-gathering. Behold the SHARK X-02 long-range autonomous drones."
  
  Annabeth nodded in appreciation...before opening her mouth again to understand something that was illogical.
  
  "If these drones are capable as you imply...why are they all monitoring the same ship? And why are two of the computers not functioning?"
  
  Jackson grimaced.
  
  "Someone, and no, I don't know who it was, unleashed a storm against the Roman Expeditionary Force while it was trying to survive in the Scylla-Charybdis Strait. Two drones out of ten were lost there. And when it was over, I realised my programming of the drones wasn't that good. The eight I have left all followed the same ship."
  
  Annabeth giggled at the frustrated face of the son of Poseidon.
  
  "So there are things where you are not perfect, oh seaweed brain." She chuckled for a good minute. "Okay, so you did bring me here to correct the programming of the drones?"
  
  "Among other things." Perseus crossed his arms.
  
  "Among other things?" Annabeth repeated with an inquisitive stare and raised eyebrows.
  
  Jackson huffed.
  
  "I intended to inform you of these drones, not necessarily today, but...soon enough." In other words, their leader had wanted to surprise them all with other 'big surprises'. "But with the turn taken by events in the Sea of Monsters, it's likely we will need a member of the Suicide Squad constantly to monitor what tragedy will befall the Romans every hour of the day. Since we must train, prepare the equipment and the super-yacht, do plenty of other daily activities, and sleep...there will be a monitoring schedule. You're only the first to be invited after Antigone."
  
  Annabeth hated when the Earthshaker's son brought so many good points in close succession...though there was something she wasn't pleased about.
  
  "Monitoring schedule? You mean these drones don't allow us to intervene if the Legionnaires are in danger?"
  
  "The SHARK X-02 drones I deployed to the Sea of Monsters don't have any armament, be it defensive or offensive." Oh, that was too bad..."I removed them before sending them on the warships' trail."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  "No need to scream that loud..." the infuriating Demigod complained.
  
  "Do you want to see them all dead? Does it give you pleasure to watch them die one by one?" The daughter of Athena erupted.
  
  "No and no." Jackson crossed his arms again. "I must confess a certain amount of jubilation watching the degree of unpreparedness of the Legionnaires, but no, I would prefer them to see them alive and humbled. But it's not that I don't want to intervene. It is that I can't."
  
  The grey-eyed Demigoddess looked at him in confusion.
  
  "There are rules, dear. I love to twist them to my advantage, but they exist. And direct intervention when you aren't part of the game? That's a big no-no...and not just because the Master of Olympus would be particularly furious if I did."
  
  There was...there was nothing she could say against that. By the Pit of Tartarus...he was right.
  
  "Fine...fine. Which warship it is?"
  
  "The Hispania," Perseus Jackson returned to his more normal 'I am to say something crazy and you can't do anything about it' smile. "It was part of the Second Squadron, and as such is manned by Legionnaires of the Third Legio, Third Cohort. The hull itself is a modified Agile-class Minesweeper. Judging by the different views I have of the warship...it did not escape the two monsters unscathed."
  
  The daughter of Athena wasn't going to say he was wrong. The acid of Scylla's maws had created plenty of impressive holes in the metal, and to make it worse, the storm had poured a lot of salted and non-salted water into them. The Hispania was low in the water, and if Annabeth had wanted to compared it to an animal, she would have said the Minesweeper was a wounded whale.
  
  She sighed.
  
  "At least they reached an island before receiving more damage. And it looks inhabited by someone who can build proper infrastructure. They will likely be able to repair the damage before sailing away for the Golden Fleece."
  
  "I'm sorry, Annabeth, but I don't share your optimism."
  
  "The bay they have entered has only statues." The blonde Demigoddess retorted. "Unless those were built by Daedalus to serve as anti-warship batteries, I don't think those are going to be a problem for battle-hardened Legionnaires. For all their lack of proficiency at sea, the sons of Rome are true terrors as soon the ground stopped rolling."
  
  "Point granted." Perseus Jackson nodded. "But I'm afraid you mistook my words. Those statues...I don't think they are weapons or built by Daedalus in the first place. I don't think there were statues in the first place."
  
  Annabeth stared in incomprehension at first. Of course, there were statues! And then Jackson ordered one of the drones to use all the power of its ultra-sophisticated camera...and she was given the opportunity to watch how good the sculptor had been at transforming a block of marble into something that looked the horrified expression of a middle-aged man in Renaissance military uniform.
  
  "I will ask again: do you think those are statues?"
  
  Annabeth felt as if her blood had frozen in her veins.
  
  "The High Priestess of my mother..."
  
  "Yes. This island must be her lair."
  
  "Tell the Romans to get out! Tell them to get out and flee this island!"
  
  "I can't." For once, the Demigod seemed genuinely unhappy. "By all the treacheries I did commit and will do in an uncertain future, I swear to you I can't."
  
  "It is...it is..."
  
  "It is a triumph bad of luck." The leader of the Suicide Squad finished. "Even I...I wouldn't try to challenge a monster of that power without months of preparations."
  
  17 September 2006, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  Leroy Ward felt incredibly happy now that he had left the Hispania behind. His sandals were now touching proper stone, something that wasn't at risk of sending him barrelling into a sea in fury.
  
  True, the location they had landed was an island, not a proper continent, but it was something that wasn't at risk of sinking anytime soon.
  
  And after nearly dying twenty times in the last day, this was enough to content a Decurion of the Third Legio.
  
  Leroy had thought they were going to die with the Hispania. When the captain of the ship told you he hadn't the slightest idea where they were sailing, in a storm so violent it took a minor miracle to save the ship...
  
  It had been the beginning of the trials. Legionnaires and auxiliaries alike had been forced to take turns working the pumps, and the stench around them below deck had been nearly unbearable, because when Scylla attacked them, quantities of foul small-size monsters swarmed them.
  
  They weren't a challenge for a trained Legionnaire to fight, but no matter how quickly you killed them, they released an abominable smell when they bled.
  
  Thus not only the Hispania was severely damaged, it also stank like a thousand polecats had been trapped where they usually slept waiting for their shift.
  
  "How is possible the sky is so blue, Decurion? Not two hours ago, it was spitting thunder and the waves were higher than a skyscraper?"
  
  "Who knows?" Leroy shrugged. "The Tribune said before leaving there were rumours of the islands inside the Zone Mortalis having their own climate. Maybe that's it."
  
  "I hope not," Ian, his best friend, told him with a grin. "Because that would mean outside this island, the storm still rages."
  
  "And as long as it rages, we can't leave the island...curse it."
  
  "Well, we could leave," Ian corrected, stopping his climb of the classical Greek white stairs in order to look at the bay below where the Hispania was waiting for their return. "But storm or not, I don't our poor ship will float for long if we aren't able to bring it to some shipyard able to repair it."
  
  "That's right." The Decurion cleared his throat before repeating his last command. "So move your armoured backside, Ian. We must find out if there's someone on this island willing to help us."
  
  Ten minutes later, Leroy began to regret it. Climbing the stairs had not looked difficult at first; they were Legionnaires, and trained for it. The nine Roman soldiers and himself were between twenty-one and twenty-four years-old. Their first weeks among the Third Legio had involved walking with bags of stones on their backs, and often climbing small mountains. That, according to the Legion's veterans, was supposed to toughen them up.
  
  And it had.
  
  But despite all their training and wearing only armour and the standard amount of weapons any proud Legionnaire took with him in all circumstances...climbing up the slopes of this bay was really, really exhausting.
  
  The main reason was the heat. The heat and the total lack of wind. Gods, why did the Gods didn't send a breeze in their direction?
  
  "Decurion? Do you see something?"
  
  "No! I don't see anything! I don't smell anything save a loud Legionnaire on my heels!"
  
  Five men of the Third Legio laughed. The others were too busy trying to keep up his pace to do so.
  
  "Okay, I deserved that. But you know you have-"
  
  "I am a son of Pales, yes." For those who didn't know, Pales was the Roman God of shepherds, flock, and livestock. As such, it gave Leroy the ability to sense well before anyone when sheep and other animals domesticated by mankind were present - the ones which were used like the sheep for their meat and wool anyway. "And no, I have felt no sign there are sheep on this island. Or a cow. Or anything a shepherd would want to live with on a daily basis."
  
  They continued moving away from the Hispania, and with each step taken, a bit of the enthusiasm the Legionnaires had in them when finding salvation in this bay diminished.
  
  Leroy wanted to say something, shout something to boost their spirits...but the truth was simple: aside from those realistic statues positioned at regular intervals around the bay, there was no one here.
  
  The island looked abandoned.
  
  Just as he was about to order a break, the slope became less abrupt...and they finally arrived at the top of the heights dominating the bay. As if materialised by the capricious whims of a Goddess, a splendid villa materialised barely two hundred metres away, on one of rare flat areas the island must have.
  
  "Wow! Nice house! Decurion, do you think-"
  
  "Let's go find out."
  
  They did not have to walk long to have the answer if the villa was abandoned or not.
  
  Within seconds of the enormous house being discovered - seriously, you could have a family of ten living inside that kind of thing without problem - the door opened and a woman walked out.
  
  She was...strange.
  
  Okay, it was not a critic...New Constantinople was filled with weirdness. When you had Bacchus as a figure of authority, you couldn't exactly throw stones around.
  
  But still...the woman's sense of fashion was...weird.
  
  The day's temperature was incredibly hot, at the risk of saying the obvious. The grass on both sides of the white path which had led them there was incredibly green, but given the sweat on his skin...it felt like they were in summer, and not a cold one.
  
  Yet the woman had a black veil covering the entirety of her hair, to the point not a single one could be seen.
  
  Large and enormous sunglasses were hiding her eyes and a large red scarf was going from her neck to where her mouth should be...so yeah, they didn't see her lips too.
  
  One might have thought the rest of the body would be similarly hidden, but no! A tank top in a canary yellow shade and tight-fitting blue jeans completed the attire.
  
  But to add to the weirdness a last time, the feet were hidden inside a pair of dark green boots. For some reason, they looked like ten different species of snakes had been skinned to make them.
  
  One thing was certain: weird or not, the woman was fast. In less than a minute, the distance separating them was no more.
  
  Leroy didn't know why, but he began to feel ill-at-ease. There was something wrong. But what?
  
  "You have not been invited." It was like an opera singer had spoken. It was...it was beautiful. But the intent behind the words was not.
  
  "My apologies, Lady," Leroy saluted, "but the storm did not give us the choice. I present myself, I am Decurion-"
  
  "I do not care who you are, Demigod. Remove your odious presence from my island. Now!"
  
  "Hey!" Ian intervened. "We didn't choose to come to your island, the storm threw us here! And we have been polite-"
  
  "I do not care," the woman replied, not bothering to turn her head, her voice as beautiful and devoid of positive emotions as the first time. "I didn't invite you. You are not welcome. I will use simple words for your tiny heads to understand. Leave. Humans are not tolerated here."
  
  Humans? By the eagle of the Legion!
  
  "She's a monster! Defensive formation!"
  
  Ian drew his blade and struck. His best friend had always been like that, and many times, his sword skills had allowed the Legion to win a skirmish before the enemy realised what had happened.
  
  This time, he missed.
  
  Not completely, but only a small piece of the black veil on the female monster's head was cut...but it was sufficient for a snake, a honest black-coloured snake, to appear.
  
  This wasn't the end of the bad surprises, unfortunately. Just as they were rushing to support Ian, hands became claws, and in a move too swift for their eyes, the monster counterattacked.
  
  Everything was blurry for a few seconds, busy as they were to strike a blow against an opponent which seemed incredibly fast.
  
  When the first part of the fight ended, Leroy Ward, Decurion of the Third Legio, could only acknowledge the disaster. They had begun this fight with ten Legionnaires; now they were only six, as four were lying dead with horrible claw wounds mangling both Roman armour and Roman flesh.
  
  "I will be honest," the monster hissed, "I always hated Romans. And the only things I have grown to hate more over the centuries is this infection the world calls tourists."
  
  The black veil was removed and discarded, revealing an unnatural corona of black-coloured snakes.
  
  Leroy wasn't talented in Greek mythological lore at all. But he knew instantly who they were facing.
  
  "Medusa..."
  
  "Congratulations, Demigod," green scales covered the arms, and the claws, which had been more something a big cat would have, grew in length with every second. "It appears you aren't as stupid as you look."
  
  "The statues. It's you. You turned everyone who came to this island into stone."
  
  "Everyone?" The Gorgon scoffed. "Please. For some reason, my island attracts a considerable amount of parasites like you every year. If I turned to stone every tourist, I would have ten thousand statues to warn away the interlopers, not one hundred."
  
  "Your reign of terror ends today!"
  
  The red scarf was removed, revealing a super human mouth...but when it opened, it was to reveal the dentition of the monster had more common points with a piranha than a human.
  
  "You realise I am playing with you, Legionnaires?" the Decurion wished the monster gloated, but her voice was...bored. "I remove my glasses, and it's over for you."
  
  Then surprisingly, the scales receded and the claws disappeared. Human hands were back...not that the son of Pales was going to be fooled by that a second time.
  
  "Then why don't you do it?"
  
  "It's easier to hire good help to clean up when the corpses are made of flesh." Medusa knelt and tore the gladius of Ian from his dead hands effortlessly. "And I admit I am curious to see how unskilled your band of tourists is."
  
  "We are going to kill you and take your head as a spoil of war!"
  
  The corona of snakes hissed angrily, but Medusa's mouth only twitched.
  
  "I was the High Priestess of Athena, boy."
  
  "Attack her from every direction! Don't let her catch you-"
  
  Medusa attacked and Leroy and all his Legionnaires fought desperately for their lives.
  
  17 September 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "Well, if we have to fight her, I suppose buying some of the most expensive glasses Hermes is willing to sell will not be sufficient..."
  
  "Jackson!"
  
  "Yes, your Owlishness?"
  
  "The entire crew of the Hispania just died and you are making a joke?"
  
  "I am what I am, oh Amanda." The son of Poseidon whistled. "And no, it was not a joke. I thought the most famous of the Gorgon sisters was extremely dangerous. I had no idea she was that skilled with a sword in hand. The ten Legionnaires she beat away from my drone's camera? She could have ambushed them or led them into a massive trap."
  
  The blonde-haired daughter of Athena grimaced. Because damn him, Jackson had a point.
  
  "But you don't think that's what happened." And she didn't make it a question. Not when she had seen Medusa slaughter her way across the surviving crew of the Hispania.
  
  Even after the first scouts were wiped out, there were about thirty Legionnaires, and twenty of them looked like ready for a fight against a monster.
  
  They were not. Not against something as dangerous and merciless as Medusa.
  
  "You watched with me. She didn't bother using the power of her petrifying glare once...which is a pity." Perseus frowned. "I wanted to know the range of the Gorgon's power able to transform humans into stone constructs. And I had a theory that it might apply to nonliving materials which aren't made of glass. In this regard, this fight didn't give me any useful information."
  
  It was certainly a way to look at the fight...and a particularly cold-blooded one.
  
  "Yes. At least if they had been changed to stone, we would have the hope that vanquishing the Gorgon would return them to life."
  
  Since Perseus' expression was anything but one of agreement, this forced her to ask a true question.
  
  "You think I am wrong?"
  
  The Earthshaker's scion sighed loudly.
  
  "That's a lot of 'ifs'. First, you have to consider that this unlucky group of forty Legionnaires, as far as we know, were massacred and unless I'm gravely mistaken, will all be lunch for the fishes and whatever monster nearby before sunset. Then there's the fact that I am not a counter-curse specialist. I don't know what exactly your mother intended when she cursed her High Priestess because Poseidon fornicated with her..."
  
  "You forget they did it in her temple."
  
  "That was not very smart of my father," Perseus' smirk returned like a horse galloping, "I wonder what sort of punishment the Lady of the Seas gave to her husband for such a transgression? I will have to ask my dear sister-"
  
  Annabeth clicked her tongue in frustration.
  
  "Ah. The 'if' can continue like that for a while. Even if this rude host wanted to keep them as statues, it would be only useful if we managed to reach the island before she destroyed the transformed Legionnaires into debris of granite and marble."
  
  "Why would she do that?"
  
  On one of the computer screens, Medusa's hands became claws, and struck one of the Renaissance-themed figures with extreme ferocity.
  
  In less than thirty seconds, what had no doubt been a middle-aged man with a spectacular sixteenth century-hat was reduced to very small fragments. Which confirmed the unasked question: could said claws cut through stone?
  
  "Because she's a vicious bitch?" Perseus raised an eyebrow. "You will forgive me for criticising your mother, your Owlishness, but I wish she had turned this woman into something a bit more...manageable."
  
  "For this once, I will shut my mouth," Annabeth promised.
  
  It was extremely annoying, but there was no denying Jackson was right. Even without the capability to petrify her enemies, Medusa would have been a first-class opponent. Maybe Luke and a few other swordsmen of New Byzantium would be able to survive more than a minute, but Annabeth was sure she wasn't talented enough. The monster was simply too fast.
  
  "It isn't all bad news." Perseus shrugged. "It offers certain opportunities."
  
  "If you try to hire her, I will ask the rest of the Suicide Squad to murder you in your sleep," the daughter of Athena threatened.
  
  "Don't worry, given her...impolite behaviour, recruiting this sort of walking disaster isn't on the table. But there are certain prison-islands where it would be useful to have a power of petrifying at our beck and call..."
  
  "I'm sure Luke would be quite happy to open you the doors."
  
  "Oh, absolutely. But as you learn quickly when it comes to prisons, the strength of a prison doesn't necessarily rely upon the magical defences. There also are the jailors to take into consideration."
  
  18 September 2006, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  "How are we going to continue the campaign without a prow?"
  
  "I don't know."
  
  "The Danubius isn't going to sail again!"
  
  "It could have fooled me. And here I was saying we ran aground our Frigate just to see if it could sail on land."
  
  The black humour, as evident as it was, did nothing to stop the loudmouth from continuing his stupid remarks.
  
  "There must be something we can do!"
  
  "You can shut up, Eustace. Everyone is sick of hearing your mooing."
  
  "It's your fault!"
  
  Elvis Knight had enough and punched Eustace.
  
  A competent Decurion would have seen it coming, but Eustace Bragg was neither competent nor skilled in boxing. He was just one of the arrogant brats who had been elevated above their level of competence by this wastrel of Octavian.
  
  "You...YOU HURT ME!"
  
  The Centurion of the Twelfth Legion did the first thing which came to the forefront of his thoughts.
  
  He punched again.
  
  And this time, Eustace Braggs mercifully fell unconscious...and silent.
  
  The dozens of Legionnaires all smiled and breathed out in relief.
  
  "Report," he told his real second-in-command, no matter what the foolish hierarchy they had been forced to accept at New Constantinople proclaim.
  
  "We've been able to save most of the supplies and the infantry weapons. But we only have a single eagle for aerial reconnaissance, and over one-fourth of our men are injured. Medicine supplies are going to be...problematic in the next days."
  
  "Arthur?"
  
  "I agree. We have only two doctor-surgeons, and they can't be everywhere at once. By the way, I think they won't like that you broke the nose of Eustace."
  
  "Eustace will wait his turn like a good Legionnaire," otherwise he would be gagged and thrown into the sea, with a stone attached around his neck. "The island?"
  
  "We were a bit busy removing everything of value from the ship, but it seems like a nice little paradise. Those trees are orange trees, for example, and they definitely can be eaten."
  
  Elvis sighed, noting how scandalously the standards of discipline had fallen since they were forced to endure Octavian's presence.
  
  "Food is always a major preoccupation, but I would have thought you mentioned the volcano first."
  
  The trees may cover half of the island as far as Elvis could estimate, but everything was on the slopes of a giant volcano which dominated them.
  
  Arthur blushed.
  
  "Err...well, it is a volcano. I don't know why there's a black flag flying above one of the lesser peaks-"
  
  "Boredom, and because this island is mine."
  
  The feminine voice startled every Legionnaire, and everyone tried to grab his gladius in a hurry.
  
  After a second, a figure came out of the woods, hands in the open.
  
  To the Centurion's relief, it was a woman, not a monster or any kind of inhuman enemy the Sea of Monsters was so infamous for.
  
  That said, the closer she got, the more evident it was that her clothes were not from the nineteenth century. The black coat and the yellow-brown pants were definitely coming straight from the eighteenth century, if maybe not earlier. The white 'shirt' under the coat looked even older. And the pistols and the model of sabre tied in leather holsters around the belt had become obsolete centuries ago.
  
  For all of that, the young woman - between twenty and twenty-two, he would guess - was rather striking. Elvis wouldn't say she was very pretty, but the dark red hair were long and attractive, and there was steel in those brown eyes.
  
  "Centurion Elvis Knight of the Twelfth Legion of New Constantinople," he presented himself. "Those are my men, and the damaged ship behind us is the Danubius."
  
  "Captain Anne Bonny, daughter of Demeter," the newcomer answered with a grin, "I tried to become Queen of Pirates in my time, and the Gods didn't like that at all. Did Olympus erase my exploits from existence, or am I still remembered in...what was the year you entered the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "It is the year two thousand and six."
  
  Anne Bonny flinched...before clearly steeling herself.
  
  "I see. So she wasn't able to find a way to rescue me..."
  
  "She?"
  
  "Not important," the red-haired daughter of Demeter dismissed the question with haughtiness, and the more time Elvis spent observing her, the more there was a certain...majesty about her. "If you've said the truth, everyone I've ever known is dead, if the Gods didn't make them immortals."
  
  For all the efforts to hide it, the Demigoddess' very behaviour betrayed her sadness.
  
  "I'm really sorry for your loss," the Centurion tried. "That said, while I don't want to change the subject-"
  
  "This island is my prison," Anne Bonny interrupted him. "If you want a ship, I will be of no help at all...I'm fascinated by this ship of metal of yours, of course. But a blind Captain can see you're missing a few vital things...like the prow."
  
  This was...really bad news.
  
  "Why would anyone imprison you here?" he asked, bewildered.
  
  "Because this island has the only gate allowing someone to enter the prison of a Titan, Centurion." Anne Bonny smiled, and unveiled teeth which somehow remained quite white for someone having embraced pirate life centuries ago. "It needs many jailors...beginning on the soil of this island. When Olympus' huntresses captured me, I was given a choice. I could stay on this island, regain a youthful appearance, and protect the prison's gate from all potential intruders in the name of the Olympian Council...or I could die."
  
  It was, quite clearly, a choice the daughter of Demeter had lived to regret for centuries.
  
  Maybe she had thought her friends would come and break the curse. Maybe there had been some hope to build a ship and escape...
  
  But evidently, every attempt to abandon the fate of jailor-prisoner had failed.
  
  "Should we manage to repair our ship," Elvis began carefully, trying to ignore the murmurs of his fellow Legionnaires telling him how impossible it was, "there won't be any curse which will prevent us from leaving, surely?"
  
  "No," Anne Bonny shook her head. "The only curse active on this island is mine...and thus I have come to deliver you my warning: stay as close to the beach as possible. Don't go past the first circle of fruit trees."
  
  "Why? Miles asked to his right. "Your curse will injure us if we go beyond them?"
  
  "In a certain manner," the daughter of Demeter drew her sabre...and suddenly, it was no mere sword, but a huge scythe which was in her right hand.
  
  All Legionnaires fell instantly silent.
  
  "The closer an unwanted visitor gets to the Gate," Anne Bonny said with a sinister smile, and an accent which implied magic translated some of her words in proper twenty-first-century English, "the stronger the pressure to kill the interlopers. There was one crew before you who didn't heed my warning."
  
  The scythe was lowered, and in a fraction of a second, returned to a nearly-inoffensive sabre appearance.
  
  "Don't make their mistake, if you want to live."
  
  19 September 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  The room was a complete mess.
  
  There were none of those extremely mechanical devices called 'computers', which in a way was...reassuring.
  
  On the other hand, Perseus Jackson had accumulated the equivalent of ten thousand sheets of paper in less than twenty-four hours. And that for reasons that even she, a former Dread Empress, was struggling to understand.
  
  Needless to say, it was a bit...frustrating.
  
  "You know, there are servants for that sort of things," Bianca di Angelo told him...and the son of Poseidon just...shrugged. "Otherwise you will never find anything you search for."
  
  The last words were uttered with the proper gravity they deserved...and the infuriating ex-Tyrant snorted.
  
  "I know exactly where everything is supposed to be, oh daughter of the Rich One. Everything is in perfect order. It's not my fault if you have problems with-"
  
  A pile two gargoyles were struggling to keep standing promptly collapsed on his left, missing the host of the Barrack by a few fingers.
  
  The animated stone constructs were nearly buried for several seconds under the mass of paper, something they didn't seem to find very funny.
  
  "Your perfect order is impressive." Bianca would have rather called it 'chaos', personally.
  
  "Everyone fails to understand my genius."
  
  The best answer, the black-haired daughter of Hades had found out very early, was to not succumb to the provocation and stay silent. Sooner or later, Jackson would stop his stupidities and return to the subjects which mattered.
  
  "All right. First, a quick recounting of the Roman exploits. I let my treacherous lieutenant to monitor the situation, and he hasn't informed me of any change, though we're still trying to locate most of the warships which left New Byzantium. One ship was swallowed by Charybdis. One had its crew slaughtered by the most famous Gorgon sister. And the other is heavily damaged, and its crew is forced to camp on an island-prison where the guardian is compelled to kill them all if they do something idiotic."
  
  "Three ships lost in less than a week?" Bianca raised an impressed eyebrow. "If the Romans continue to suffer such casualties, they will have no one by the end of next month."
  
  "Personally, I would rather bet on the end of this month," the son of Poseidon disagreed.
  
  "The situation is that bad?"
  
  "The situation is that bad, and it looks like having empty skulls is not exactly a good thing when your best behaviour is recommended. But never mind."
  
  Many papers were thrown on the ground, almost burying another gargoyle under the avalanche of documents until Jackson found what he wanted.
  
  "Ah. Here what I was able to observe."
  
  The drawing was absolutely atrocious, but the massive and strange oval-shaped thing was dominating everything, and the calculations...
  
  "This is the formula of a magical boundary, Jackson."
  
  "Very good! To be accurate, it is the boundary. The one the Gods of Olympus decided to create when it became evident it wasn't good for civilisation that ten or twelve sea monsters could attack you even for a short sailing adventure. Ignorant souls would speak of a barrier, but it is both a ward, the limits of a Domain, and many things besides it."
  
  All right. Now the Di Angelo Demigoddess was extremely interested.
  
  "And it separates the Sea of Monsters from the rest of this plane of existence."
  
  "Yes." The smug smile was back, of course. "But of course it was not enough for the Gods and the Goddesses to engineer something as huge and monstrous. They had to take into account future additions, you see."
  
  "The entrances of the Sea," the daughter of Hades said slowly, "they aren't just here to tempt the adventurers. They are...they are the bait."
  
  "You catch on quickly," Perseus complimented her. "And yes, 'bait' is exactly the appropriate term. In appearance, this Zone Mortalis has everything to be a formidable training area, or a zone to fulfil your dreams of fortune...except if you aren't an Olympian or operating under the favour of one, you rapidly realise the way out is denied to you."
  
  "And so new monsters can't leave the Zone Mortalis."
  
  The current leader of the Poseidon Barrack chuckled.
  
  "Monsters? If only them...I'm speaking about the pirates, dear. The legendary Demigods and Demigoddesses who decided to reject all the laws and tenets of Olympus, and sail away, caring nothing about freedom and plunder."
  
  Bianca was less than impressed by this speech.
  
  "These are scum of the sea we're talking about. And even if their support gave us some strategic advantage...most of them must be quite dead by now. Nico is very much a fan of the 'Golden Age of Piracy' book you gave him, but the fact remains it was centuries ago. Hearing your description of the Roman disaster, can a pirate crew really survive for long surrounded by creatures which can easily destroy entire fleets?"
  
  "Oh, most of them are certainly dead," Perseus conceded, "but the Sea of Monsters is a place where time is not playing by the usual rules...and as such, the best and the worst crews will have survived."
  
  "Some of them are undoubtedly serving in the Triumvirate's fleet as we speak."
  
  "And they will serve us, in time."
  
  The assurance it was spoken with, alas, forced her to ask the question which burned her lips.
  
  "Why are you so sure of that, Jackson?"
  
  "Because I do not intend to give them the choice, your Dreadful Majesty."
  
  Evidently...she had kind of begging for answer of that nature...
  
  "The island-prison," Bianca tried to return to something Jackson had barely mentioned. "Is it the place you planned to visit with the daughter of Aphrodite?"
  
  "No, it is quite another." The sea of Poseidon admitted with surprising honesty. "I think that in an underground chamber of the volcano, there is a gate leading to Tartarus...and to the prison of the Titan of Mortality and Pain, also known as the Lord of the West."
  
  Also known as Iapetus, son of Gaia and Ouranos.
  
  Yes, the Lightning Thief could understand why it held no appeal for the leader of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "Since you evidently didn't invite me here today to say all of those things without a reason...what do you want, Jackson?"
  
  The green eyes of the Demigod shone with limitless malice.
  
  "I want you to use your lore of demons to build something for me."
  
  20 September 2006, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  This was too funny.
  
  Despite the pain, despite knowing he was going to suffer once more, Decurion Clark Lucas laughed.
  
  The reaction of the torturer didn't make itself wait.
  
  The enormous fin slapped him violently. Two seconds later, realising its mistake, the dangerous fish grabbed a sword of Celestial Bronze with some sort of magnet.
  
  Clark screamed as he lost one finger of his left hand to the blade.
  
  "I am forced to repeat myself," a velvety voice came behind the bipedal and unnatural Dolphin warrior which had just mutilated him. "Where is the treasure of your ship? I was assured this ship contained priceless treasure! My sources were never wrong!"
  
  This time the survivor of the Twelfth Legio didn't laugh. There was too much pain; what the hell was on this blade, it felt like his entire hand was on fire!
  
  "I don't know what your sources told you," Clark gritted his teeth, "but the sole thing our ship transports is the ammunition of the 1st Squadron! It is a valuable treasure...if your purpose is to make war."
  
  The Decurion was forced to grit his teeth and force himself to not show weakness. No matter how painful it was for his body, he wouldn't give up. He wouldn't beg the monster which had butchered his friends.
  
  The massive dolphin looked for a second or two looked as if it was going to remove one more finger, but finally, at the urging of the butcher remaining in the shadows, abandoned the idea and sheathed its weapon.
  
  Then it threw some green powder on Clark's hand, and the bleeding stopped. Unfortunately, the pain doubled, and he was forced to scream again as the suffering coming from his hand was properly unbearable.
  
  By the time Clark recovered, the group of pirate-clothed monster-dolphins had withdrawn somewhat from the torture section, and the master of this inhuman crew advanced.
  
  And like the first time he had seen it, the son of Fontus shivered. Seriously, who would be so crazy as to don a golden mask representing a Gorgon upon his face? That was asking for divine retribution!
  
  "It seems I asked my questions...poorly. I was promised a great treasure, and you have a great treasure...but not the one I want."
  
  The accent was definitely similar to the one of people who had lived for years in the Middle East, or a region in the vicinity of it.
  
  "Tell me, son of Rome. Did any ship of your expedition carry gold with it?"
  
  "Why..." Clark Lucas winced as pain became a fundamental part of his being for several seconds, "why would we transport gold? We are an Expeditionary Force! What Olympus must pay for our service, it will be given at our return..."
  
  The monster having the body of a man laughed after he spoke. It was a sound almost feminine...but not quite.
  
  "How naive, son of Rome. I have lived millennia, and I can assure you that the Gods don't pay if you're not alive to make them remember their oaths. And since most of you are quite dead...it seems I saved these hypocrites a lot of Drachmas."
  
  The Decurion didn't reply to the enemy's provocation.
  
  "It is disappointing, but as true as I am Chrysaor, son of Medusa and Poseidon, there will be other opportunities for my crew and I to gain more wealth. This battle didn't cost us a single warrior; we can continue to raid the Sea of Monsters as we desire, confident that one day, we will be able to escape it...and that day, I, the magnificent and glorious Chrysaor, will take the throne that is mine by right."
  
  "What, you will ask your daddy to make you a God?" Clark mocked him.
  
  He seriously expected to be mutilated even worse than his dolphin tormentors had done, but the Gorgon-masked captain snorted.
  
  "I will not ask anything from that scoundrel. I am not a hero, son of Rome. I am a villain. And there is a title that is mine by right and might. I will become the King of Pirates."
  
  There was only one answer the son of Fontus could give after having listened to this crazy proclamation.
  
  "You're insane."
  
  "And you, son of Rome...you are going to end up as dinner for the poor misunderstood predators of this forgotten sea. I don't think you will have to wait long. The blood of your friends will attract them soon enough. Farewell, Demigod holding a treasure of no importance."
  
  The hybrid of dolphins and pirates left first, their infernal captain last. Clark wasn't fooled by his slowness or his pompous air; many Legionnaires had thought this monster was easy prey, only to lose their heads and their arms in lightning-quick sword moves.
  
  The Vesuvius was silent.
  
  Clark tried to break whatever was holding the chains which kept him prisoner, but unfortunately, nothing moved. Nothing. How the hell were these pirate-dolphins able to create a torture chamber and metallic bindings so easily?
  
  The pain in his hand began to decrease, though the sight of it brought a grimace on Clark's face.
  
  The Demigod began to feel really thirsty. Hunger, for the moment, was not a concern, as he had eaten during his shift - the last sailing shift he would likely ever made, given that the assault of Chrysaor and his damned ship had surprised them right after escaping a Megalodon's jaws.
  
  More than ever, the Decurion tried to find something which would allow him to save his life, but there was nothing he could do.
  
  He was the son of Fontus, and his father had given him some minor ability to recover from his injuries when he touched water, courtesy of him being the Roman God of Wells and Springs.
  
  But how could he touch water when he couldn't take a step forwards?
  
  And all the ammunition of the Vesuvius...by the Pit, make it all the ammunition in the world! All this ammunition was more than useless to him right now.
  
  He was-
  
  The sound of human voices arrived to his ears.
  
  They sounded...guttural and dangerous.
  
  But they were human voices.
  
  Hope burned again in Clark's voice. Maybe one of the other ships of the 1st Squadron had found the Vesuvius! Or maybe it was the 2nd Squadron! Maybe-
  
  The door Chrysaor had closed when he left opened again, and the Roman Demigod's hopes died, as a colossal figure came into view.
  
  The intruder was definitely a man, but the very sight of him was cruel and inspired no confidence t at all. He was obese and when he smiled, quite a few teeth were clearly missing.
  
  "It seems Fate has not been very gentle with you, Legionnaire," the black-haired man began. "But you have been given a new chance. Cherish it. Nobody on the seas has more than one life to give. And a man's dreams never end."
  
  The closer the newcomer came to him, the more his unease was increasing.
  
  For all his decrepit and ugly appearance, Clark was confident this man was a Demigod.
  
  "Who are you?"
  
  "I am Edward Teach, son of Ares."
  
  Clark Lucas tried to break his chains, but they held like they had for the last hours. The name...every Demigod, be he a Roman or a Greek, had heard of this name. And of his famous pirate's nickname, which had become a legend in its own right.
  
  "Blackbeard," he whispered.
  
  The smile grew madder and larger.
  
  "So the new generation remembers me, after all! Good! Good! Now...I have a ship filled with strange and wonderful weapons, and a Legionnaire who can teach me how to use them. Do you understand my intentions...friend?"
  
  The son of Fontus shivered, for yes, he did understand it perfectly.
  
  "I won't help you. My loyalty to the Legion is absolute."
  
  "Well," the old monster grinned, "let us verify that, shall we?"
  
  21 September 2006, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  For an instant, nothing happened.
  
  But it was only for an instant.
  
  Less than two heartbeats later, the galley disappeared into a colossal explosion of smoke and fire, with green fire spreading over the sea.
  
  "So the bastards of the Triumvirate have the Greek fire too." The Legionnaire next her remarked.
  
  "Yes," Erica answered. There had been a strong likelihood of it before battle was joined; all the Demigods who served the Triumvirate had not been sired by the traitors, meaning the likelihood of Greek and Roman defectors was high...and so was the possibility of Constantinople's secret weapons being mass produced by the enemy. "Status of the two other galleys?"
  
  "For some reason, their crews suddenly stopped rowing in our direction."
  
  Many Legionnaires chuckled.
  
  "Stop laughing," the Tribune of the Third Legio ordered, finding no humour in the situation whatsoever.
  
  "But...Tribune, with all the respect we owe you...their ambush failed. We already sank three galleys today and-"
  
  "Don't you really think anyone intelligent would expect mere galleys to go against the Jupiter Invictus?" The daughter of Sol asked tersely. "The scum chained to the oars of these galleys were the scouts. They were sent to this island to warn their masters if someone came to this island to resupply. And judging by the flares they threw in the air the moment the battle began, they obeyed their orders."
  
  The laughter, it went without saying, ceased abruptly after that.
  
  "In that case...shouldn't we bypass this island completely and find a better anchorage?"
  
  "I would love to," the female Tribune admitted. "But we need to fill up our stores, and this island, apart from the traitors of the Triumvirate, has everything we need very badly."
  
  Food and water were the utmost priorities, but one couldn't forget the less evident ones.
  
  "And the Corinthus needs some urgent repairs," which was also the obvious truth, as the sole ship to have found the Jupiter Invictus had not emerged from the storm in a good condition.
  
  "Exactly," Erica winced inwardly. "Bypassing the island may be the correct tactical decision, but in operational terms, it will be a long-term disaster. We don't know when we will have the opportunity to resupply if we don't seize this opportunity. The next islands might be filled with edible food, or they may be barren rocks filled with monsters."
  
  Given the name of the Zone Mortalis, the latter was alas far likelier than the former.
  
  "What is your command, Tribune?"
  
  "I am taking the risk of letting the enemy catch up with us." The blonde Demigoddess told her subordinates. "Twenty-four hours. That's how long we will stay here to resupply our reserves and repair what can be repaired."
  
  "Yes, Tribune!"
  
  For the first time since they had entered this nightmarish location, Erica was able to sleep soundly for about seven hours that night. When she woke up, it was with the sound of tropical birds, and the sea around the island was perfectly calm.
  
  It was idyllic. There were no monsters on the small island, save a sort of boar that her Legionnaires had promptly cooked. The fruits most of the trees gave were edible too. And the repairs of the Corinthus advanced at a satisfying pace. It was-
  
  "Magical disturbance detected on the Aegis! Magical disturbance detected!"
  
  Erica ran to the bridge of the Jupiter Invictus, and when she was in front of the screens reserved to her officer sand she, the daughter of Sol did her best not to swear.
  
  There were a lot of dots, each one representing a potential enemy unit.
  
  The good news was that with the hyper-advanced Aegis system of the modified Ticonderoga-class Cruiser, what had to be the enemy fleet was well beyond the horizon, and there was time to recall everyone aboard the ships and flee.
  
  The bad news was that fleeing was all they could do. With each second passing, the dots grew ever more numerous.
  
  It had to be the main fleet of the Traitor Triumvirate. There were already over sixty contacts confirmed and-
  
  "We have the first formal identifications. Some of the vanguard units are clearly World War Two-era destroyers of the Italian Navy. On their flanks are modernised ironclads...and at the heart of the formation...it's a battleship."
  
  "A pre-dreadnought one," her tactical officer corrected with a good dose of optimism. "We can sink it."
  
  "Somehow," Erica did her best not to mock her officer, "I doubt the rest of the fleet is going to stay idle while we destroy the flagship. Recall everyone who is ashore."
  
  "By your command...but we won't have resupplied completely our food reserves, Tribune."
  
  The water reserves having priority over the food ones, they didn't suffer from the same problem.
  
  "Then we may have to ration ourselves in the future. Status of the enemy fleet?"
  
  "They're coming straight for us, Tribune...their effectives are still increasing. We have confirmed at least ninety warships, and yet they are more coming!"
  
  "Understood. Accelerate our preparations. We won't abandon anyone, but there's not a minute to waste now."
  
  Had she taken the good decision?
  
  Erica thought about it...and arrived to the conclusion that yes, it was the correct order. Her Legionnaires had desperately needed the rest after what felt an eternity fighting storms and monsters.
  
  For that matter, the water reserves of the Corinthus had been in a very bad state. Two more days, and they would have run out of potable water. Whether you were a confirmed sailor or not, any soldier recognised how incredibly dangerous it was when your men did not drink to their content.
  
  "Contact! New contact! Magical emissions...what is that?"
  
  Erica turned her head to tell the Legionnaire a reminder discipline was the virtue of the Roman legions and indiscipline the vice of the barbarians...but when she read the information gathered by the Jupiter Invictus' advanced devices, the female Tribune felt as if someone had danced upon her grave.
  
  "The readings must be wrong," the Demigoddess heard herself speak.
  
  "The readings are...resynchronised...and confirmed, Tribune."
  
  Something suddenly began to shine over the horizon. It was as if a new sun was rising over the Sea of Monsters.
  
  "Impossible," Erica uttered. "According to the Aegis system, they are still over forty kilometres away. How can we see them? No battleship can do that!"
  
  "Tribune...I don't think it is a battleship at all. I don't know what it is, but...it has the tonnage of a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. And...it is flying!"
  
  For a second, the senior officer of the Third Legio assigned to this expedition desired nothing more than telling her subordinate to stop the drugs.
  
  Unfortunately, if this was some banned substance causing that, they were all under the effect of it.
  
  There had to be a logical explanation.
  
  There had to be.
  
  The leaders of the Triumvirate may be the traitors Marc Antony and Cleopatra of the era which led to the rise of Augustus Caesar, but-
  
  Cleopatra. The Egyptians.
  
  Oh, no.
  
  "This must be a damned Solar Ark." The daughter of Sol grimaced as all around them, the ruckus of dozens of Legionnaires running to their stations increased. "The traitors must have forced Lord Vulcan to supply them with the means to restore the flying capacities of their flagship."
  
  "Yes, Tribune. Your orders?"
  
  "We flee." There was no other option. The magical readings and the size of the enemy flagship were such that the possibility of their missiles doing enough damage to force it to crash was very low. And there was the rest of the one hundred-strong fleet to deal with at the same time. "We flee as fast as we can and we pray they will disperse their main fleet into smaller squadrons, giving us the chance to defeat them in detail."
  
  They were supposed to win against that? It was a bad joke. They hadn't enough missiles and offensive armament to deal with more than a dozen warships, never mind the Solar Ark!
  
  The fact that no one argued...it was all that needed to be said about how screwed they were.
  
  22 September 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "By my mother's magic, how are they able to keep something that huge flying?"
  
  Lou Ellen was not easily surprised, but the video of the SHARK drone Perseus had replayed several times was enough to astonish her.
  
  "Unknown for the moment," the son of Poseidon replied serenely, "I would love to say it is because they have the God of the Forges prisoner, but unfortunately, it isn't likely."
  
  "Why?" the blonde-haired daughter of Hecate asked.
  
  "Because this is obviously something which was built to fly, not sail upon the seas of this world." The leader of the Suicide Squad answered. "Look at the shape of the hull and how the weapons are disposed. This ship was not built to endure the waves on a daily basis. It can likely land and travel short distances on them, yes, but it was not made for that. And the few weapons we could see without our drones being detected are clearly prepared to rain destruction from above."
  
  "Yes." Lou Ellen nodded. "Do you regret now having built a super-yacht instead of a proper warship?"
  
  "Absolutely not. I stand by my genial decision!"
  
  The sorceress sighed. Of course, she should have expected that.
  
  "Whatever the son of Hephaestus and his best Cyclops friends are busy working upon...maybe a proper warship-"
  
  "My dear," the smirking Demigod interrupted her, "have you forgotten that leaving aside the weapons of this massive 'Solar Ark', the Triumvirate's flying ship is escorted by about three hundred warships of different epochs of war?"
  
  Lou Ellen grimaced.
  
  "I imagined you would have a plan to evade their attention and attack the 'Solar Ark' directly. After all, if we cut the head of the enemy, their fleet will disperse afterwards."
  
  "Ah, the good 'cut the head, and the body dies'," Perseus mused, "it works...extremely poorly with the Hydras."
  
  The sorceress who had bathed in the waters of the Styx rolled her eyes.
  
  "I'm serious, Jackson."
  
  "So I am, my dear." Her unimpressed glare only brought a shrug from the black-haired boy. "Anyway. The problem of this strategy is that it leaves us no margin of error. If we fail to decapitate the heads of the Triumvirate, then the fleet sailing on the Sea of Monsters won't have its discipline broken, and all the attack will achieve will be our encirclement and prompt destruction. Worse, while I am more or less sure this is the flagship of the second duo of the Triumvirate, I can't confirm the two are present. Cleopatra, yes, the flag was hers, and you don't leave this kind of flagship to a lieutenant. But Mark Antony? He could be here...or he could be somewhere else."
  
  "Like the ritual grounds where they intend to do to the God of War what the Lightning Thief intended for her father?" Lou Ellen asked rhetorically and sarcastically.
  
  "Yes and no," Perseus gave her a vicious smile, "usurpation, yes, they definitely intend to do that. The method our dear daughter of Hell used? Absolutely not. While they could bleed their prisoners to obtain Orichalcum, it takes a very gifted sorcerer or sorceress to forge a sarcophagus to become a God or a Goddess...plus quite a lot of symbolism and stories that simply aren't there."
  
  "And yet," the daughter of Hecate said, "they are ready to challenge Olympus openly."
  
  "Yes. Isn't this amusing?"
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone sighed. One day they would all be utterly crazy, and aside from knowing when they were infected by this madness, there would be nothing they could do...
  
  "I suppose," she cleared her throat, "that the current usurpation attempt of the Triumvirate, no matter what it involves, depends heavily upon my half-sister the Immortal Sorceress, sarcophagus or no sarcophagus."
  
  "I don't know the degree Mark Antony and Cleopatra rely on her for their fabulous and glorious conspiracy of usurpation and mayhem," Perseus denied, forcing her to give him a mocking stare, "but yes, it is very likely she is playing an important role."
  
  "In that case, I'm really surprised the Council of Olympus didn't try to move against her. They know she lives in the Sea of Monsters, after all."
  
  "I'm pretty certain they gave secret orders to the Roman commanders which involve what to do about her if they find her island, my dear sorceress lieutenant," Jackson poured the two of them glasses of orange juice with a very amused grin. "And before you ask, yes, I saw the packages being transported aboard the ships, but I don't know what was inside them. And the drones weren't able to observe the Tribunes and Centurions when they read them. All of that is done in each captain's cabin, out of my curious sight."
  
  "Problematic."
  
  "Especially for them." Perseus drank very fast the contents of his glass.
  
  "Why so?"
  
  "My dear sorceress lieutenant," Perseus smiled wolfishly, "the worst mistake the Romans could do, bar challenging a Titaness directly, would be to threaten an Immortal Sorceress where she built her powerbase. People forget it a bit quickly, but her father was Helios, God of the Sun."
  
  "And what it does it mean in military terms?" Lou Ellen asked, very interested by the answer.
  
  "It means," the insane leader of the Suicide Squad bared his perfect white teeth, "that if I they decide to be the good obedient dogs of the Olympians, they are going to regret it in short order."
  
  23 September 2006, Approaches of C.C Spa and Resort, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  "I don't like this at all, sister."
  
  Reyna took great care to check if there was no one who could hear them before opening her mouth, and even then, she whispered.
  
  The punishments endured by several of their fellow Legionnaires had been awful, and the daughter of Bellona had no wish to emulate them.
  
  "Orders are orders," Hylla replied before grimacing. "At least it is going to be quick."
  
  This time it was Reyna to show a gloomy expression as they fulfilled their duties on the flight deck of the Dominus Caelum.
  
  Yes, the attack was going to end quickly.
  
  Against the modified Casablanca-class Escort Carrier repurposed by the Twelfth Legio to launch giant eagles, the island they could see some ten kilometres away wouldn't stand a chance.
  
  The main structure covering the island looked like a tourist resort, and though it had a sort of magical shield to protect itself from the light explosive ordnance of the Assyria sailing by their side, this was a type of shield Legio Fulminata had seen before.
  
  The 'solution' found by their Centurion was simple and brutal: the eagles of the Dominus Caelum were going to fly over the island, and drop phosphorus bombs upon it...among other things.
  
  Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano had done several things she wasn't proud of before being formally welcomed into the barracks of New Constantinople.
  
  But in the two years she had served with the legion, this horrible deed promised to surpass them all in blood and atrocity.
  
  This island, despite the existence of the shield, was clearly no military target. There wasn't a single military ship at anchor in the idyllic blue bay, only yachts and things which could be used to sunbath.
  
  Yet for some reason, Centurion Flavio Ronco, son of Deimos and commander of the Dominus Caelum, had left his cabin proclaiming there were secret orders of Olympus which demanded they destroyed this island.
  
  And since the bastard outranked the officer of the Assyria, there was no choice but to obey.
  
  "Any court-martial will confirm we were only following the orders."
  
  "This excuse wasn't exactly useful at Nuremburg, sister."
  
  Hylla shook her head...before giving a slight nod.
  
  "We are ten minutes late! Hurry up, those bombs should already be in our eagles' claws! Go! GO! GO! Junior! Why are you so slow? Bellona daughters! Work harder! The Legio won't tolerate dead weights!"
  
  "I hate him," the young female Legionnaire murmured as soon as the Greek bastard couldn't possibly ear her. And no, the problem wasn't that Centurion Flavio Ronco was one of the rare Greek Demigods who had chosen to enlist in the Legions. The problem lied in the total, definite evidence that the son of Deimos loved to terrify the Legionnaires who were forced to obey him.
  
  And so the two sisters obeyed, like everyone, no matter how tempting mutiny was.
  
  The bombs were aligned in perfect order in front of the giant eagles. The Legionnaire pilots strolled out of the aircraft carrier's tower, the sign that the flight commander had given them his instructions.
  
  Twenty giant eagles, twenty phosphorus bombs, and the others which would be dropped by the second flight were likely more devastating.
  
  Hylla had been right. This was going to be quick.
  
  Reyna turned her head in the direction of the island...and she immediately noticed the fluorescent blue halo of the shield was gone.
  
  "Sister! The shield is gone!"
  
  An enormous beam of red-yellow colour came into existence above the island, and it was so bright it was as if a new sun was born.
  
  "Decurion! The eagles must launch immediately! We are under-"
  
  Reyna had wanted to say 'under attack', but the enormous beam of light - it looked like a super-laser - slammed into the Dominus Caelum's flight deck before she could finish.
  
  Reyna's eyes were sharper than a lot of Demigods and Demigoddesses, and so she managed to watch where the enormous blast impacted: right in the middle of the bombs and giant eagles had been gathered.
  
  And then everything turned dark and painful.
  
  Everything was dark...as dark as her most unpleasant nightmares...
  
  And then suddenly something pressed on her lungs.
  
  Reyna, daughter of Bellona, screamed...and spat the salted water she had in her mouth and her lungs.
  
  The youngest of the Ramirez-Arellano sisters opened her eyes.
  
  She was...alive?
  
  As she had been told the moment she became a Legionnaire of the Twelfth, Reyna observed her surroundings. She was lying on a beach of white sand. A woman with green hair was clearly healing her.
  
  Hylla was next to her, in about the same condition she was, and the daughter of Bellona felt more relieved than she had been in weeks.
  
  "What...what happened? Our ship-"
  
  "Ssh. Don't worry your pretty little head, warrior. Your ship sank, but you among many were saved by the Goddess."
  
  Goddess?
  
  Her gesture of panic was noticed and countered.
  
  It took many minutes...maybe one hour, and it felt far longer, before Reyna was allowed to sit on her own, and the same was true of Hylla.
  
  All around them were the majority of the female Legionnaires who had been part of the Dominus Caelum and Assyria's crew.
  
  Not that she was going to cry if their idiot of a Centurion was missing, but...where were the males?
  
  Now that she had asked herself the question, it was not difficult to acknowledge that between the women healing their injuries and the guards in hoplite armour...they were essentially surrounded by women.
  
  Then violins played a superb symphony, and a column of exotic-coloured women went to form two neat lines as if to welcome a chief of state.
  
  The initial impression was more than justified when they unrolled a brilliant violet carpet.
  
  And then a small animal was kicked and flew over Reyna's and Hylla's heads, before being caught in mid-air by one of the guards.
  
  It was a guinea pig, with a brown fur, and a strange vicious appearance. Somehow, he was reminding her the Centurion when he was about to bark...
  
  "Who," a melodious and seductive voice asked with a tone of disappointment, "dared to place this irritating pig in my path?"
  
  "We are sorry, your Immortal Highness! He was going to be placed in the cage, but profiting from my inattention-"
  
  "Don't make the same mistake again."
  
  "Yes, your Immortal Highness!"
  
  The voice was so beautiful...and as she advanced on the violet carpet, Reyna stayed there, unable to move, and even less to think.
  
  This...this was no woman. This was a Goddess. Of course, she was. She was so beautiful, so glorious, so fierce, so...there was no woman like her in this world or the next-
  
  "Welcome, sisters," everything was so perfect about her, from her Chinese-styled red dress leaving one of her legs nearly entirely naked, to her high heels. Her long black hair was perfect. Her nose was perfect. Her figure and her body were perfect. "Welcome to my island."
  
  Magic washed over them, and Reyna felt better than she had ever felt.
  
  "I am Circe. I forgive you. Do you want to be as beautiful as I am?"
  
  Reyna felt in love listening to the words of her Goddess. Circe was both the sun and the moon of this new world...and nothing mattered anymore.
  
  24 September 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "It was a new weapon of unlimited destructive power that the God of Fire and the Forges likely was ordered to build during his imprisonment."
  
  "No, it wasn't."
  
  There was nothing more annoying than having prepared a speech and many facts for several hours, and see your crazy leader disrupt in three little words.
  
  To say he wanted to strangle Perseus Jackson at this very moment was evidence itself.
  
  "Explain," the son of Nemesis growled. "Now."
  
  Jackson grinned for several seconds, daring him to enforce his threat...and not saying a word until he lowered his eyes.
  
  Seriously, why had he joined the Suicide Squad again?
  
  "To answer your question, my treacherous lieutenant," Perseus Jackson answered at last after being thoroughly satisfied with his own cleverness, "what the Immortal Sorceress used to destroy two Roman warships in three seconds was called an 'Ancient Weapon' by the Gods themselves. This one is called Helios' Eye."
  
  "By the Pit, why is she in possession of such a weapon?"
  
  "Because it was given to her, obviously," Perseus clearly was savouring his surprise, the bastard, "according to the rumours I was able to collect, it was a joint effort between Helios and Hyperion. It...suitably impressed the Titans, shall we say?"
  
  No kidding. An aircraft carrier and a minesweeper had been sunk with one shot each, and the Legionnaires aboard said warships had seen nothing coming.
  
  "After the Titanomachy, the Gods were a bit paranoidac about being overthrown like their parents were," Perseus continued like a maniac story-teller, "and so in a gesture of good will, Helios, who had sided with them, agreed to relinquish his most formidable weapon of mass destruction. And who else would you trust but your cherished daughter? Helios' Eye went to the Sea of Monsters-"
  
  "And the Immortal Sorceress became the warden." Ethan finished before frowning. "Wait a minute. If the witch has had this ungodly super-weapon in her possession since the dawn of time, why by the feuds of Olympus would she waste her time bewitching sailors like she did with Odysseus' crew?"
  
  Jackson gave him his favourite look of 'don't be stupid'.
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, I said Helios gave the weapon to his cherished daughter. I didn't say he trusted her enough to give it to her in a serviceable state."
  
  "Oh."
  
  "And after thousands of years, the damage to the parts which were kept in storage, divine help or not, were likely in need of some pretty good maintenance anyway," the son of Poseidon shrugged off. "It likely would have taken a genius of engineering to return to pristine condition the existing parts, and a super-genius to know which parts were missing and how to fabricate them...unfortunately, with recent events, the Immortal Sorceress had someone at her disposal who fits the 'super-genius' role."
  
  Hephaestus. The more days passed, the more the capture of the God of the Forges and Technology revealed itself to be a colossal disaster...and no, this wasn't an exaggeration.
  
  "One thing I don't understand." Ethan Nakamura cleared his throat after several seconds of deep thought. "Why did she let the Romans get so close to her island? Seriously, she had a shield and no doubt a few counter-measures, but if the Roman commander had played it a bit more smartly, there was a risk of her island receiving a lot of damage. The giant eagles can bombard with ammunition which could easily raze her lair in a few hours."
  
  "I suspect," Perseus for once didn't smile, "is that the Immortal Sorceress was on a little recruiting operation of her own. My drones stayed underwater, but they could confirm the servants of the Immortal Sorceress prioritised the rescue of the female Legionnaires."
  
  "And the male ones?"
  
  "Guinea pigs," Perseus commented with an innocent expression. "Literally."
  
  Ethan sighed.
  
  "This sorceress has a sense of humour as twisted as yours, Jackson."
  
  "Nonsense, my treacherous lieutenant! No one has a sense of humour as twisted as mine!"
  
  Ethan knew he was quickly approaching the limits of his 'Jackson tolerance' for the day.
  
  So he asked his last question.
  
  "What do you think the surviving Roman ships are going to do? It's been a few days, and with the number of ships they have lost, not to mention how dispersed they are across the Zone Mortalis, their chances of finding the Golden Fleece are...slim."
  
  "Nonexistent, you mean." Jackson declared as a happy Hellhound barked in the distance. "Sooner or later, my treacherous lieutenant, the Demigods and the Legacies who went to the Sea of Monsters in the name of duty are going to lack ammunition. Unless it is the supplies which run out first. It will depend on their first encounters with monsters and the Triumvirate fleet, honestly."
  
  "And then?" Ethan asked, fearing already the worst.
  
  "Then, knowing the utter lack of leadership provided by Centurion Octavian McArthur and Tribune Bryce Lawrence," Perseus announced like a tyrant about to sentence someone to die, "the betrayals will begin."
  
  28 September 2006, Sea of Monsters, somewhere near the Solomon Islands
  
  Michael was beginning to hate everything there was about this expedition.
  
  He hated how hot it was on a constant basis. The air was so suffocating that they had been forced to abandon their armours, no matter the daily danger threatening them.
  
  The son of Venus hated the constant monster attacks. Yes, he had heard there were many of them, but this was just ridiculous. Everything was trying to attack them, even now when they had taken refuge in a secure bay! And of course there were never the same species of monsters attacking. They had faced Sirens, giant crustaceans, winged creatures no one had been able to name, and quantities of sea monsters which had somehow not gotten the call they were supposed to be extinct, like prehistoric crocodiles and the infamous Megalodons.
  
  And that wasn't the most unpleasant thing there was about this 'adventure'. No, in Michael's honest opinion, this place of honour was incontestably won by the abominable leadership of Tribune Bryce Lawrence and Centurion Octavian MacArthur.
  
  The famous discipline of the Roman Legions was more or less noninexistent now. It had been failing badly when they arrived in this bay, but the lack of enemies on the island and the presence of food and clean water in large quantities had been the trigger to let everything fall apart.
  
  Now? Save to defend the ships, the Legionnaires who had survived Charybdis, Scylla, and many other dangers were exploring the island, enjoying the natural wonders of the island, and drank some exotic drinks they distilled from the fruits growing upon the trees.
  
  The First Cohort of the Twelfth Legio had been considered the elite of the elite a couple years ago.
  
  With its inept leadership and the current conditions, they had fallen so far that Jupiter Himself may demote everyone back to the rank of recruit Legionnaire...to begin with. Their shameful behaviour here and in the days before certainly didn't deserve anything else.
  
  "At least we are going to be reinforced," the blonde-haired Legionnaire who waited next to him commented, feeling his bad mood. "With the Vesuvius about to join us, the rebuilt squadron will be four ships strong."
  
  Michael Kahale gave a brief nod.
  
  "You're right. But I wish we had the Dominus Caelum with us. Without its flights of eagles, our aerial reconnaissance capabilities are nearly nonexistent."
  
  "The fact we had no sign of their presence so far is concerning," Aulus York acknowledged. Like all sons of Mithras, the young Decurion Legionnaire seemed to accomplish his duties effortlessly and maintain a dignified appearance. Michael was glad to have him; it was thanks to Scipio's effort that some Legionnaires of the Rhenus were not busy experimenting with prohibited drinks other stupid activities. "But if the Tribune gives the order to sail out of the bay, I'm confident we would be able to locate them relatively easily."
  
  "And the chances of our Tribune," Michael let his sarcasm soak the word with all the respect it deserved, "giving that order in the next hours are, according to you?"
  
  "Nonexistent," Aulus was forced to admit, swearing a few insults which were favourites of veteran soldiers.
  
  Michael didn't say anything more; there was nothing he could say, really.
  
  Or to be more accurate, the Centurion could say something; the problem was that it was not going to change anything.
  
  There was a reason he was here, on the deck of the Rhenus, helping several Legionnaires to repair the damage the modified Oliver Hazard Perry-class Frigate had suffered, instead of the Ave Caesar, where he should be if circumstances were normal.
  
  But the Ave Caesar was mostly empty right now, as was the Brundisium, the oiler of the 2nd Squadron which had joined them two days ago.
  
  The Legionnaires who should be aboard these warships, repairing the damage and refilling the stocks of fresh water and food, were on the island, either feasting on the beach or doing something completely useless.
  
  By all rights, they should be ready to sail away from this island at any moment. It had been at least five days they were here, and the exhaustion of their first battles against the monsters had faded away.
  
  Yet, and Michael knew he was repeating himself, discipline was gone. And the Tribune and the imbecile whispering poison in his ears had decided to ignore their Legionnaire duties and satisfy their capricious whims ashore.
  
  "At least with the Vesuvius back, we will be able to satisfyingly replenish missiles, shells, and every special ammunition we used in the last days," the son of Mithras said, "I wouldn't say we were at risk of having no ammunition left for our guns, but in a few days, we would have been forced to pilfer a bit from the Ave Caesar...and I would have preferred to avoid that...the regulations are what they are..."
  
  "Oh yes, the regulations," Michael chuckled. If they decided to apply the regulations strictly, Octavian and the group always singing his praises would have already been jailed after a lightning-fast court martial. "Hail the Vesuvius, Decurion. Ask them-"
  
  This was the moment the unique rocket launcher installed upon the prow of the modified Kilauea ammunition ship barked in anger...and Michael looked in horror as a rain of shrapnel fell seconds later upon the deck of the Ave Caesar. Fortunately, it was mostly empty at this hour of the day but-
  
  "TO ARMS! The Vesuvius has been captured by the enemy!"
  
  "Battle-stations!" Aulus reacted next to him. "All Legionnaires! Prepare for battles! Boarding teams, prepare to repel the enemy! Gun crew, load your guns with the anti-infantry ammunition! The Vesuvius' ammunition is not something we can afford to detonate!"
  
  As orders after orders were shouted, the Twelfth Legion's colours of the Vesuvius fell, and a black flag which needed no introduction replaced it.
  
  "Pirates..." Michael grimaced. "And we are the only ship which is ready to fight them."
  
  But the Rhenus was a modern warship. No matter how the pirates had captured the Vesuvius, it was an ammunition ship, and by firing on the Ave Caesar, it had missed the most dangerous opponent.
  
  "What is that dark shape? NO!"
  
  A second later, there was an enormous geyser exploding from the bay, and suddenly there was an enormous three-master warship straight from the Age of Pirates surfacing like a submarine would...mere cables away from the Ave Caesar.
  
  Michael felt something cold on his skin. Suddenly, the sky was no longer so blue, the sun seemed to fade away.
  
  "FIRE! FIRE AT WILL!"
  
  Michael drew his gladius...and suddenly the blade was fighting against him.
  
  The three-master attacking them...it was swallowed in darkness!
  
  "The cannons aren't firing! Our own armament is turning against us!"
  
  "You are sons of Rome! Prepare to defend the ship!"
  
  "CENTURION! THIS IS THE QUEEN ANNE'S REVENGE!"
  
  For the fiftieth time today, Blackbeard cursed the witch who had imprisoned him for an eternity.
  
  It was bad enough he looked ridiculous, but his strength, which had once been the terror of the Caribbean and American coast, was only a shadow of what it once had been.
  
  Before sailing to the Sea of Monsters, his ability to turn the weapons against their legitimate owners would have engulfed this island. Edward was not his father Ares, but he was the most powerful Demigod when it came to this ability.
  
  Add the shroud of terror which had been part of the Queen Anne's Revenge armament for centuries now, and the battle should have been a one-sided victory.
  
  To be sure, it was a victory.
  
  But Fate and events he couldn't be aware of had robbed him of an even greater triumph.
  
  The legendary pirate released the hold he had upon his multiple talents and in the seconds after, he did his best not to sound too exhausted. All his crew was diminished, and there were new heads he couldn't rely upon for now.
  
  His breath became more regular as the cannons of the Queen Anne's Revenge unleashed their wrath.
  
  Edward Teach showed no sign of disappointment when the shots failed to do any damage and the Roman warship Rhenus evaded the boarding attempt of the Vesuvius.
  
  Soon, the 'Frigate' - a curious name for a ship so big - left the bay like all the demons of the abyss were on its heels.
  
  "Cease fire," he ordered. "Let them go."
  
  "Captain? If they have other friends in the Sea of Monsters-"
  
  "Then we will meet again. Fate has blessed them to escape today. Who am I to stand between them and destiny? Ha! Ha! Ha!"
  
  His crew, after a moment of hesitation, joined him in laughing and celebrating.
  
  Blackbeard turned around and walked upon the enormous metallic warship that had just been conquered by force of arms.
  
  It sounded so glorious when said like that. In reality, they had surprised half a dozen Legionnaires - most of them drunk - and the ship, the supposedly terrifying Ave Caesar, had been captured with barely any resistance.
  
  "The Brundisium is yours too, Captain."
  
  "Ha! Send my congratulations to Lafitte. Two out of three in less than one hour! It is an honest day of piracy like we didn't enjoy since entering this damnable sea!"
  
  "And the Triumvirate ships were forced to look at the spectacle like the cowards-"
  
  "Careful," Blackbeard commanded. "I know what you are feeling, but this is neither the time nor the place."
  
  Several of his crewmates nodded seriously. They understood. Good. He would have been sorry to punish them on a day of triumph.
  
  His fingers caressed the collar around his neck. It was the sign that until it no longer existed, his freedom was denied by a Roman warrior and his Egyptian lover.
  
  Slavery had never bothered Edward Teach that much.
  
  It was one of those unfortunate facts of life that Fate had decided the strong ruled over the weak, and might of arms decided who lived and who died.
  
  If you weren't strong enough to fight for your convictions, your freedom, and your dreams, then you deserved to be a slave.
  
  But that was not what had happened to his men and him.
  
  They had been tricked by some sorcery no proud pirate could do anything against, and been transformed into animals.
  
  This was a humiliation which would never stop burning in his heart.
  
  "What now, Captain?"
  
  Blackbeard let his gaze fall upon the small flotilla that was going to bolster his power across all the known seas. While the Vesuvius would be useful as long as the ammunition stores were filled and the Brundisium was a slow transport, the Ave Caesar was an extremely valuable.
  
  "First, we make sure there are no Legionnaires hiding aboard this ship. I want to be sure no one will try to sink our fleet's new addition when we have our back turned. And then," his smile became a malicious smirk, "we are going to pay our respects to the lazy souls waiting on the beach! I want to tell them in person how thankful I am for the warships! HA! HA! HA!"
  
  If some Middle Eastern Djinn materialised in front of him right now and offered him a wish, Bryce would tell him his heart's desire was to kill Michael Kahale with his bare hands.
  
  His treacherous Centurion had abandoned him without a fight! The son of Orcus knew that the sons of Venus had often been pretty boys who fornicated with boys and girls at the same time, but this kind of treachery had left him speechless.
  
  Michael had committed the worst sin any Legionnaire could have done: he had run away like a coward when the enemy showed its ugly head!
  
  And he had taken the Rhenus with him, and more than forty Legionnaires!
  
  It was one-third of the ships that were his by right missing, and more when it came to firepower, since the Brundisium wasn't a true capital warship.
  
  It was outrageous.
  
  "If this betrayal arrives to an Olympian's ear," Octavian said in an echo of his thoughts, "the Council will crucify the traitors."
  
  "Yes," Bryce agreed before falling silent as a boat was pushed ashore and the pirate who was no doubt the leader revealed himself.
  
  At first, the son of Orcus thought the outlaw was not impressive. Fat and ugly were likely the best description for the enormous worm that had taken the Ave Caesar from the rightful Legio's ownership.
  
  But then the left hand of the man went up in air. Power was summoned, and in mere seconds, quantities of weapons were summoned to crash before his enormous black boots.
  
  And to Bryce's consternation, while many of the weapons were the gladius and the personal weapons they had deliberately surrendered when the cannons of the three-master were pointed at them, some of them weren't. They were the javelins and the blades which had been hidden in the forest and the island's interior to be used the moment the pirates lowered their guard.
  
  There was nothing to do but to grit his teeth as the pirates laughed.
  
  "In my time, the Romans had a bit more honour than that," the obese pirate rumbled, "but I will be merciful. After all, I know more than anyone here what it's like to lose one's liberty."
  
  "Forgive us, Captain," Octavian acidly replied, "but you have us at a disadvantage. You know who we are, but we don't know your august identity."
  
  "True enough! The name is Edward Teach, son of Ares. But you know me better as Blackbeard, Captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge. There, the presentations are done."
  
  That thing was Blackbeard? Please. No doubt this disgusting waste of grease had usurped the real one...
  
  "Now being a blunt and honest pirate, I am going to give you a choice, Legionnaires. Join my crew. Abandon the ridiculous oaths you swore to the Gods. Sail with me. Embrace freedom and liberty like many of you did on this island. No rules, save one: obey the order of your new Captain and Admiral...me."
  
  Everything in Bryce rebelled instantly at the idea of serving this pile of excrements.
  
  "Never," the Tribune of the Twelfth Legio swore.
  
  "Why?" the fake Blackbeard grinned, seemingly amused by his defiance. Incidentally, the grin revealed many, many missing teeth. "I am a good judge of men, boy. I can tell you don't care about the oaths you swore. You are a killer, a bloody sword which seeks new battlefields to drench your gladius in enemy's blood."
  
  The malevolence following the pirate like a shadow...maybe he was a descendant of the real Blackbeard, after all.
  
  But it didn't matter.
  
  "Yes. But I won't obey anyone I don't respect. You can threaten or try to blackmail me. I won't serve you."
  
  "Hmm..." the enemy leader huffed, "and if I told you I am going to tie your second to the prow of the Queen Anne's Revenge to serve as monster food-chow?"
  
  "I would tell you to go ahead," Bryce smiled wolfishly. "He was useless as a military advisor and as an omen-reader."
  
  "WHAT?" Octavian exclaimed. "Bryce! You can't be serious!"
  
  "I am serious." The son of Orcus retorted, giving a glare to the whimpering son of Apollo. "It was upon your recommendation we waited here for every ship of the squadron to join us. It is your fault we were defeated here!"
  
  "You are the Tribune! Responsibility is yours! I only presented you the options we had!"
  
  "Snivelling worm!" Why had he accepted the Sesterces of this hypocrite distant descendant of Apollo? "I am going to gut you!"
  
  "Boys...silence."
  
  "Don't give me orders, fake Blackbeard!" Bryce spat. "You spoke of liberty and freedom? Well, give me my gladius-"
  
  There was a gust of wind, and a second later, pain tore his chest apart.
  
  The Tribune of the Twelfth Legio's First Cohort looked down with incredulity to see a gladius...no, not a gladius, his gladius, embedded in his flesh. Since they had all been chained bare-chested, there had been no armour or piece of enchanted cloth whatsoever to protect him.
  
  "You...you..."
  
  "I am giving everyone a chance to fulfil his destiny," the pirate declared, and with each heartbeat, the world seemed to unravel. The silhouette of this enemy was surrounded in corpses and darkness. The clamour of the damned arrived to his ears. "It appears Fate did not decide to keep you alive today. Farewell, Tribune Bryce Lawrence. Give Hades my regards."
  
  Everything began to lose its colours around him. Bryce saw monsters and humans. He saw many islands which should have been beyond his sight.
  
  And below him, he saw what awaited him. Words arrived to his ears, but they were useless to him now.
  
  "Your leader chose poorly. Now I will give you the same choice he did. For I am Blackbeard, and my Age is coming."
  
  29 September 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  To her credit, Athena didn't gloat. It was something that Apollo had always thought impressive and frustrating when it came up to her war reports.
  
  "The First Cohort of the Twelfth Legio can no longer be considered a military capable force. The Ave Caesar and the Vesuvius were captured by the infamous Blackbeard and his pirates. Circe's reactivation of the Eye of Helios cost them the Dominus Caelum and the Assyria. The Danubius won't sail again without major repairs the island it is stranded onto is completely unable of providing. Of the original order of battle, only the Rhenus and the Corinthus survive as we speak."
  
  There was no consultation of notes or any divine aspect used; Athena's memory was perfection itself, even among the Gods, and listing the fate of destroyed or crippled ships a child's game for her.
  
  "The Third Legio fared better." The Goddess of strategists acknowledged, before even demolishing this faint hope of good news. "But they had only five ships to begin with. The Hispania's crew was slaughtered by Medusa..."
  
  No one among the Council failed to notice the smirk of Poseidon, and for the first time Athena's grey eyes were filled with a violent emotion.
  
  "The Rhodanus sank after colliding with a magical reef while trying to manoeuvre against a Triumvirate's squadron. And the Brundisium was captured by Blackbeard."
  
  Athena's serenity and implacable tactician returned, seemingly unaffected by the short emotional outburst.
  
  "Fortunately, Tribune Erica Keller appears to be largely more competent than Tribune Lawrence was. She has already managed to reunite with the Etna and the Corinthus. The Jupiter Maximus and she, assuming nothing changes in the next forty-eight hours, should be able to engage the pursuers of the Rhenus and thus place all the surviving ships under her authority."
  
  "In this case," Zeus intervened, perhaps emboldened by the name of the Cruiser "the Jupiter Maximus and its squadron will be ordered to abandon the war against the Triumvirate. The search for the Golden Fleece will be their next priority-"
  
  "No."
  
  Dionysus stopped eating grapes. Artemis abandoned the examination of her arrows. Poseidon's surf transformed back into a Trident.
  
  Apollo grimaced internally. Yeah, he had expected something of the sort from his half-sister...
  
  "No?" The Master of Olympus growled, and in his voice, the tumult of a thousand thunderbolts could be heard.
  
  "No." Whatever you wanted to say about Athena, she didn't move a single eyebrow as their genitor's Master Bolt aura of power blazed in fury. "The Romans we still have available do not have the military firepower to break through the challenges separating them from the Golden Fleece. And the Triumvirate hunters will not stop pursuing them because the goals we give them have changed. Moreover, too many supply ships have been destroyed or captured. Within a month, major battle or not, the Sea of Monsters will continue to corrode their strength. By simple attrition, the new '2nd Squadron' will be combat incapable well before the end of the year."
  
  "Then we send more Legionnaires!" Zeus barked, and seven Gods and Goddesses stayed silent as their King made his dissatisfaction known to his daughter and strategic advisor. "We send a full Legio!"
  
  "The result will be the same, or worse." The grey-eyed Protector of Athens replied emotionlessly. "The reality is that we have sent over ninety percent of the capital warships of New Byzantium with this expedition. It will take at least sixteen months, even with my shipbuilders and war architects supporting them, to rebuild a fleet as imposing as the one the Legionnaires lost. By then, the Squadron of Tribune Keller will be wiped out or reduced to band of survivors camping on tropical islands."
  
  "And if you are wrong?" Something like reason was evidently trying to insufflate its wisdom into Zeus' skull, but the God of Thunder was clearly resisting. "If we can build a greater fleet and the Legionnaires already deployed survive?"
  
  "Then the end result will still be the same," Athena stated as it was an irrefutable reality. "The Romans' main strength in a naval fight is their boarding operations, and save the pirates of Blackbeard, no one else is using that."
  
  A button was pressed, and a holographic image flashed into existence in the empty space at the centre of the Council Room.
  
  It was a warship. That much you didn't need to know a lot about military warfare to recognise.
  
  It had vaguely the same of an aircraft carrier, except the 'tower' was literally separating the flight deck into two neat parts...and it wasn't so much a tower as it was a pyramid.
  
  It was the kind of vision which attracted everyone's attention, even Aphrodite.
  
  And for good reason, in his sunny opinion.
  
  Apollo had seen some colossal warships in his life. The Nimitz-class carriers were a bit bigger than that...but not one of them could fly like this one did.
  
  Sure, there was an outrageous prow of gold representing two lovers enlaced for eternity. Marc Antony and Cleopatra were like that. But the ultra-advanced weaponry on each side of the flight deck was not giving him the urge to laugh.
  
  "These are extremely armoured turrets," the God of the Sun said after clearing his throat. "And assuming the fire arcs are realistic, may I assume they can be fired on ground and aerial targets indifferently."
  
  "Correct," Athena nodded. "Of course, the turrets, as impressive as they are, are far from the most impressive armaments this flying warship is equipped with. I've monitored it for several hours when they couldn't hide from my sight, and I can tell you it carries several dozen Giant Kites that can be used for reconnaissance, interception, or heavy bombardment. They have advanced torpedoes to use when the carrier flies at low altitude over the ocean. Somehow, they also managed to acquire medium-range ballistic missiles, though those are extremely inaccurate on a good day."
  
  The Goddess of Strategy's grey eyes looked at something beyond the image, and her tone was colder after a couple of seconds.
  
  "It must be emphasized that these are the only weapons I saw fired, and given that no one has felt suicidal enough to launch a direct assault against the Spear of the Gods-"
  
  "What," Zeus rudely interrupted her in a voice which told everyone to prepare for the worse, "did you call this warship?"
  
  "The Spear of the Gods...Lord Father," Athena added the last words with a lot of precipitation, realising she had inadvertently activated something she should have told well away from. "I mean, this is the name the Triumvirate...the usurpers have given their flagship."
  
  "The Spear of the Gods," Zeus rumbled, and Apollo had no doubt that New York must be granted a lightshow of lightning cascades with a phenomenal thunderstorm tonight. "They certainly are getting confident, these usurpers, aren't they?"
  
  No one, not even Athena, was brave and suicidal enough to answer this very rhetorical question.
  
  "Very well." The Master of Olympus declared after ten seconds of complete silence. "If these usurpers want us to take them seriously, I will give them my congratulations. They have succeeded. We are going to mobilise and crush them. They want the Sea of Monsters to be their battleground? So be it. I am going to make this Zone Mortalis their grave. Hermes, go to the Underworld. Hades is summoned to Olympus, immediately! Athena."
  
  "Yes, Lord Father?" Everyone could tell the divine Protector of Athens wasn't at ease.
  
  "The mobilisation is going to take several months, isn't it?"
  
  "It will, yes."
  
  "Then it won't be said that the Council of Olympus will abandon our loyal Legionnaires to a dreadful fate. Go to New Byzantium." The eyes filled with the light of thunder turned towards Poseidon. "It is time for your son to prove his loyalty, brother."
  
  29 September 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Dakota sighed before drinking once again his Kool-Aid. Unfortunately, his headache refused to disappear.
  
  "You know, Ethan," the son of Bacchus began, "I now remember the card games of last years and surprisingly, I realise they were fabulous...with the benefit of hindsight."
  
  "I don't see how you can be fond of them...even with the benefit of hindsight, McDonald." The dark-haired son of Nemesis replied. "Unless the memories I have were somehow altered, we were spending most of our time wondering how the sons of Hermes were cheating."
  
  "Yes," Dakota raised his eyes to the starry sky. "But at least we were rather certain these thieves were the only ones cheating. Now that Jackson is participating, it seems everyone is cheating. And I'm sure it's his fault."
  
  "Obviously," Ethan drawled with his usual humour which should belong to some place near gallows. "It's only now you have noticed?"
  
  Dakota sighed...again.
  
  "I'm not drunk enough for this."
  
  "Evidently," Ethan Namura didn't miss the occasion to inflict a spiritual blow once more. "You have barely touched anything looking like wine tonight. Is it relaxation before the Eleutherian Wine?"
  
  "Don't mention this cursed substance tonight, please," the son of Bacchus moaned. It was bad enough that he had done...what he did during the Great Quest, but at least most of his memories from these episodes were blurred and incomprehensible. Alas, rumours had started to spread out...he blamed Jackson for that. And girls had begun to spike his drinks to test if the rumours were true or not.
  
  Everything was Perseus Jackson's fault. Everything.
  
  The object of his irritation, alas, seemed to be perfectly happy ignoring his glares at the table where the...the outrageous cheating occurred.
  
  "Oh, look," the smug son of Poseidon gloated when a brown-haired son of Hermes went all-in. "A Royal Flush for me. How unexpected!"
  
  "That's the fourth time he got one! He's cheating!"
  
  From a child of the God of Thieves, the accusation was more than a bit hilarious...especially as a gargoyle 'innocently' touched the would-be thief left sleeve, ensuring a pair of aces dropped from it.
  
  "Prove it," the green-eyed boy stuck out of his tongue, and for a few seconds, the innocence of the expression was so convincing Perseus Jackson really looked his age...too young to organise Great Quests and world-shaking schemes. But it was only for a few seconds. The smirk was back shortly after, and faced with such a terrible glee, the sons and daughters of Hermes seated around the table surrendered one by one.
  
  "You aren't going to teach us how you do it, don't are you?" Luke asked, trying the 'valiant defeated' look.
  
  "Of course I won't," Perseus shook his head as if it was the most ridiculous thought in the world. And perhaps it was. "If you were in my place, would you?"
  
  "When you say it like thatis-"
  
  There was an explosion of light mere hundreds of metres away from them, and the voices of spectators and players alike vanished like by enchantment.
  
  It was what happened when a four metres-tall Goddess armoured for war landed inside the boundaries of New Byzantium.
  
  No one wondered out loud who she was. With her black hair, shining grey eyes, and her hoplite armour and weapons and the symbol of the owl merged with Athenian letters, there was no way it could be anyone but Athena.
  
  "Perseus Jackson," the Goddess' voice seemed to be barely above a whisper, yet the sound appeared to cut through the camp's evening activities. "You are summoned."
  
  "I am innocent!" The son of Poseidon immediately declared.
  
  A heartbeat later, several Drachmas piled up in front of Luke.
  
  "I am really disappointed in you, my heroic lieutenant."
  
  "You should be more disappointed there were people willing to bet against you," the son of Hermes snickered.
  
  "You're right," Jackson somehow always managed to land back on his feet, physically or metaphorically. "I will have to-"
  
  Athena coughed. And the spear at her side glowed in a grey aura which was definitely not good news.
  
  "I have to answer the summon, of course. Am I not a loyal Demigod eager to serve Olympus?"
  
  Dakota sighed for the third time.
  
  "Ethan, before I die, I have a feeling nothing will have been spared on this world..."
  
  Author's note: The Roman expedition failed, as was eminently predictable.
  
  Now it's time for an Olympus Council...and to assemble the Suicide Squad again.
  
  Hope everyone enjoyed the Interlude!
  
  The madness will continue in chapter 16. Provisional title: Ready Player Two.
  
  Other links if you like this story:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Ready Player Two
  Chapter 16
  
  Ready Player Two
  
  "The Legionnaires were going to fail. You knew it. I knew it. Every Demigod with enough intelligence to count to twenty knew it.
  
  And yet you sent them anyway to the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Who can really say that their defeat was unexpected with a serious face? Besides me, of course?
  
  Yes, it didn't help that one out of the two Cohorts was weakened by Legionnaire politics.
  
  But no, giving them more information and resources wouldn't have changed the outcome.
  
  Sending an Expeditionary Force to a Zone Mortalis is the equivalent of gambling on quantity when the enemy has already amassed enough quantity quantity to make sure your numbers are useless.
  
  You need quality, not quantity, to survive in these monster-infested waters. I thought the Lightning Thief affair would have at least taught you that lesson.
  
  But it seems you are in dire need of a reminder why Great Quests exist in the first place.
  
  Fortunately, it might not be so bad this time.
  
  The Expeditionary Force failed, but in their failure, we gained vital knowledge about the Sea of Monsters.
  
  The Triumvirate and the forces they have allied with have not revealed every secret weapon they might have hidden in the shadows, but they were forced to reveal a few of them, enough so that hypotheses can be made about what nasty little surprises await the second wave.
  
  And the example of two Roman Cohorts being destroyed will be a salutary lesson for everyone not to underestimate again an enemy just because they lost decisively a naval battle two millennia ago.
  
  The first part of the game is over.
  
  Player One has had his chance.
  
  Ready Player Two."
  
  Attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  29 September 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Perseus could have spent hours describing the magical creations he was allowed to witness before entering the Council Room. Take the gigantic hall they had just crossed, for example. It was a fabulous piece of architecture which changed appearance depending on the tastes of those who were able to witness it. No, it wasn't an illusion. The hall was really changing, the changes originating from a panel of twelve possible different halls the one the visitor would find the most spectacular.
  
  That was a demonstration of magical technology that would have made the Tyrants of Old salivating in his old life, and no doubt plenty of them would have tried to use it for their throne rooms. Here? It was more or less playing the function of antechamber.
  
  Alas, the time to be impressed was well and truly over.
  
  Massive golden doors opened, and guided by the Goddess of Wisdom, the son of Poseidon knew he had arrived exactly where the summoning had been made.
  
  It was the Council Room, no doubt about it. If you had ever felt ill-at-ease at being small, then surely you were going to hate this one.
  
  Each throne was monumental, easily dwarfing him. As for the beings who occupied them...well, they were so tall compared to him that it was not worth to think about size jokes, except if you wanted to be humiliated.
  
  The only point which made Perseus smirk internally was that there were twelve huge thrones, but even after Athena walked towards hers, three remained empty.
  
  "Lord Zeus," the Demigod bowed theatrically...and in a pose that was a bit ridiculous, though he would never admit it to anyone.
  
  Golden lightning provoked powerful and vivid sparkles all over the Council Room, and the Master of Olympus' eyes were filled with thunder.
  
  Interesting. Scenario O it was. Obedient, but not too much. The great Master of Olympus was peeved, and was searching for traitors.
  
  "Perseus Jackson," the voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. "Do you know why you have been summoned?"
  
  In happier circumstances, the leader of the Suicide Squad would have tried to play the role of the innocent or the idiot. Unfortunately, with the Thunder God already angry, it was not really an option unless he wanted to be incinerated.
  
  "Yes. The Roman Expeditionary Force has failed. And you need replacements to go to the Sea of Monsters and succeed where they have not."
  
  His blunt reply caught the Master of Olympus completely by surprise. Ah, he had not expected that, didn't he?
  
  Reactions from the other Gods were more...varied. Dionysus laughed loudly, before being forced to stop by a glare of Demeter. Athena seemed extremely satisfied. No doubt the Protector of Athens had warned the other Olympians that sending several Cohorts which were not equipped for naval warfare was just asking for a big disaster.
  
  His father looked at him proudly, which was always good for the vote of confidence...
  
  Glancing at the nine Gods and Goddesses present, it was not difficult to acknowledge there were three against him. None of them were a surprise. Zeus, of course. Demeter. And Artemis. The others were more or less on his side, or had chosen to be neutral in that affair.
  
  "Your answer is correct, son of Poseidon." Zeus thundered, taking the form of a colossus of thunder and storms that could not be considered hum. "I am calling a Great Quest. Athena will now give you your objectives."
  
  Zeus' daughter changed. The female hoplite disappeared in a bright flash - Perseus closed his eyes by reflex - and when he reopened them, Annabeth's mother had changed her looks completely. The Greek theme was banished, now Athena had donned a perfectly tailored white uniform of the US Navy. Her hair had been gathered in a bun behind her head, and if she hadn't been several metres tall, one would have thought this woman was a regular part of the most powerful non-immortal navy in existence.
  
  "Perseus Jackson. You are to free the God of War and the God of Forges from the chains the Titaness of the Seas and the False Triumvirate are using to imprison them. You are to return the Golden Fleece to New Byzantium. And you are to save as many Legionnaire survivors of the first expedition as you can, and help them escape the Sea of Monsters."
  
  By the way Athena was talking, it was clear that it was not her plan. Most certainly, it was her genitor who had had this 'genial' idea.
  
  "I will need an order of priority, please," if he didn't protest, it would look suspicious. "The Zones Mortalis are not known to be small, but this one in particular is an archipelago of a thousand islands in its own right. Since this is a Quest, I won't have an army. Searching for every goal could take months."
  
  "Are you refusing to obey my commands?" Oh great, the imbecile-in-charge was a paranoid tyrant who saw conspiracies when someone told him something was impossible.
  
  "No, Great Zeus." Forsaking humour pained Perseus, but at such close range, evading the Master Bolt would be incredibly difficult. "I am just saying that I have not the exact coordinates of any of the objectives you have given me. The Sea of Monsters is large. The force I will take with me will be under fifty in strength. By trying to search for everything at the same time, we will accomplish nothing, and likely perish in the attempt."
  
  The shape of the thing of thunders and clouds slightly changed as he baited the Master of Olympus with the last part of his speech.
  
  Well, it was nice to have the confirmation the Lord of Thunder didn't believe he could survive this Quest.
  
  How nice it was going to be to prove him wrong.
  
  "The Demigod has a point." Athena intervened.
  
  Ho, ho, ho. To say those words in public, Zeus must have ignored a lot of times her advice many times when it came to strategy and war these last years...something that was really stupid, it went without saying.
  
  Zeus didn't return to a pseudo-human appearance. Yet it was clear that with his Strategist telling him he was wrong and the other Gods refusing to vocally support him, he had no choice.
  
  "Hephaestus must be freed first, and his Forge returned under Olympus' control." The Master of Olympus ordered after several seconds of silence. "By the fault of this treacherous Titaness, many advanced weapons are now delivered into the hands of our enemies. This cannot stand. Ares must also be freed as soon as possible, before the next Winter Solstice. The Golden Fleece can wait until my sons are back on Olympus."
  
  The Legionnaires were going to be so happy when he told them their unimportant lives were not so valuable compared to the Golden Fleece. Yes, that was a nice 'revelation' which was going to be greeted with joy and cheers...
  
  Of course, Perseus had to play the role of the obedient son...thus his objection had to be of a pragmatic nature.
  
  "The next Winter Solstice, Great Zeus?" Bring the expression of surprise, look surprised, play the son of surprise, "but I won't have a ship ready before mid-October! And the journey alone is going to take months!"
  
  "Your father will provide all necessary help so that you arrive in time, son of the seas." The cascades of lightning grew more intense. Truly Zeus must have not enjoyed at all the way the Romans had been defeated... "You said your ship will be ready by mid-October? You will leave immediately and proceed to the Sea of Monsters to challenge the enemies of Olympus."
  
  The 'or else I will incinerate you' was so evident everyone heard it.
  
  "And the rewards?" Not asking, once again, would have been extremely suspicious. "With due respect, Lord, the price of a brand-new ship is not an insignificant sum. And attracting worthwhile Demigods for a Great Quest always demands interesting rewards, be they in interesting artefacts or in the form of important numbers of Drachmas."
  
  This was once again a bait, yes. If the finances of Zeus were in a good state, the Lord of Thunder wouldn't hesitate promising millions...after all, they were expected to die in this Great Quest, and what use were millions of Drachmas to the dead?
  
  But if on the other hand, the rumours of treasuries empty were true...
  
  "Your Quester group will be allowed to take the spoils of war for itself in the battles you will fight across the Sea of Monsters. Athena will impose a ten-percent tax upon your profits should you return successful."
  
  Well, well, well.
  
  It seemed the finances of Zeus were really in a very dire situation, after all.
  
  No gold to give and a non-insignificant tax levied upon their loot in the 'improbable' case they survived? If that was not economic despair, Perseus didn't know what it was.
  
  "Now go accomplish my will, son of Poseidon. You are dismissed."
  
  "By your will, Lord Zeus." Perseus smiled, bowed, and ran theatrically out of the Council Room.
  
  The good news was better than expected, really.
  
  It was really to be a pleasure to overthrow Zeus from his throne, when the moment was right.
  
  30 September 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Naturally, Poseidon, Aphrodite, and Dionysus quickly departed once the important subjects were out of the way. In Aphrodite and Dionysus' case, it was soon reported they had left for France. What they would do there...eh, you didn't need to be an Olympian to guess correctly.
  
  Apollo wished he could go with them...but.
  
  And it was a big 'but': the tumultuous mood of the Master of Olympus.
  
  "He was prepared."
  
  There was no need to ask who the 'he' the Lord of Thunder was referring too.
  
  Athena took it far more calmly than the Sun God or anyone else still present in the Council room did.
  
  "The heroes of the city, be they Roman or Greek, have done their best to hack the divine channels so that they could follow the Expeditionary Force day after day. There are newspapers, both the credible and the non-credible sorts, which reported on the losses of the Twelfth and Third Legio's warships. It didn't take a clever Demigod to know we would need someone else to go to the Sea of Monsters."
  
  The words rang, like most of the reasons Athena listed when confronting a problem, with the absolute song of truth.
  
  But this time, Apollo was not ready to believe it was that simple.
  
  Perseus Jackson had clearly expected to go to the Sea of Monsters...no, that was the wrong way to look at this issue. The son of Poseidon wanted to go to the Sea of Monsters.
  
  That said, the God of the Sun and Musicians knew better than to say that out loud when his genitor was already fuming in anger.
  
  "Next you are going to insinuate he is loyal."
  
  For once, even the strategist of Olympus looked ready to give their father the look she usually reserved to various narrow-minded fools.
  
  "If you wanted him to be loyal," the Goddess of Wisdom and Strategy said coldly, "maybe you shouldn't have killed his mother."
  
  All Gods and Goddesses present froze. It was a powerful rebuke, and one the likes of had rarely been uttered in the last centuries.
  
  "What is done is done," the Lord of Thunder grunted after a couple of seconds. Translation: there would be no apology, and no acknowledgement a mistake had been made. "Artemis."
  
  "Yes, father?" His twin answered eagerly.
  
  "You will send several of your Huntresses with the force this treacherous spawn of my brother's loins."
  
  A grimace appeared on his sister's face. For good reason, Apollo would admit. One Huntress had been part of the previous Great Quest, and to say it had ended well for his sister's lieutenant would be lying through his teeth.
  
  "The boy is uncontrollable-" his sister began to protest.
  
  "That's why I am ordering you to gather Huntresses whose hatred for men and disloyalty excuses of any kind are legendary." The Master of Olympus paused before continuing. "At the first sign Perseus Jackson does not intend to go accomplish his mission or refuse to kill enemies of Olympus, your Huntresses will eliminate him."
  
  The grimace disappeared as fast as it had appeared.
  
  And when his sister smiled, it was a vicious, ugly thing.
  
  At moments like those, Apollo would freely admit...his twin scared him.
  
  "With great pleasure, father."
  
  "Is it that good an idea?"
  
  And immediately they stopped breathing. Damn it, Athena...
  
  "You disagree with the need to get rid of this vermin, Athena?"
  
  The Master Bolt shone brilliantly, and many thunderbolts erupted from the Symbol of Power.
  
  "No. I am just saying that we are about to begin a war against a Titaness. Can we please avoid committing some deeds which will make sure the Earthshaker will fight this war on the side of our enemies?"
  
  That...was a very good point. There were three thrones empty today, having one more vacant when the time would come to begin the true hostilities was not exactly a wise strategy.
  
  "Very well," Zeus boomed, acknowledging the deed may very well be unwise, without admitting out loud, "the Huntresses will act openly only when there is proof of evident treachery against Olympus. That way even my brother will have no choice but to acknowledge the removal of this vermin was completely justified."
  
  "Openly, father?"
  
  "Openly, Artemis," the expression of the God of Thunder and Justice was a mask of determination and ruthlessness, "I'm sure your Huntresses can arrange lethal accidents in the middle of the night. The Sea of Monsters is extremely dangerous."
  
  "Yes," Artemis could hold a grudge, but here Apollo would have to do something, it was simply too...vicious. "Yes, I'm sure something can be arranged."
  
  The rest was just a debate on what forces had to be rebuilt for the next wars to come, making him wince more than a few times at the sheer reminder of how much they had demilitarised after the end of the last true threats to their rules decades ago.
  
  But as Athena left with a concerned expression on her face, the God of the Sun wondered how many thrones of the Council were going to need new owners by the end of the Winter Solstice...
  
  30 September 2006, Olympus
  
  Perseus was really, really disappointed at the lack of vigilance from the Olympians.
  
  'You are dismissed' and no escort when he left the Council Room? Really?
  
  The more he learned about the Gods and the Goddesses living here, the less the son of Poseidon was surprised that Bianca di Angelo had been able to steal the Master Bolt, even with Hera's support.
  
  Security was extremely lax, and when there were important protections active, it was child's play to see them coming.
  
  Not that he was going to complain...it made the objective he was pursuing today far easier.
  
  It wouldn't do to delay things too much, however. The Olympians had clearly expected him to obey Zeus' command to the letter, but one Olympian investigating at the wrong time could be a disaster.
  
  Fortunately, the Goddess he searched for was rather easy to find.
  
  Perseus had just to follow the long succession of cursed shops which were unable to open as their doors and openings were closed by a multitude of flowers and plants.
  
  Past these first original marks witnessing the addiction someone held for the activity of shopping, it really didn't take more than a couple of minutes to find her.
  
  "I think the Goddess of Love is going to be a bit peeved if the district where she buys her perfumes is closed." He commented idly.
  
  "Perseus Jackson..."
  
  "In the flesh, Lady Persephone."
  
  "I could kill you here and now. You have no right to walk in these streets!"
  
  "As a matter of fact, I was summoned today before the Council," the son of Poseidon said cheekily. "I was on my way out when I couldn't help but see all those buildings covered in flowers, and I wonder if it was a new fashion for autumn sales."
  
  Persephone immediately took a guilty expression. She shouldn't; while the first part of his tirade was certainly true, her redecoration efforts wouldn't have been immediately visible if he didn't specifically try to search for her whereabouts.
  
  Though that was a lot of shops the blonde Goddess had closed when she was in a vengeful mood...
  
  "I was just wondering...why?"
  
  "Everyone knows why!" The favourite daughter of Demeter exploded. "No money for you, r Persephone! No, you mustn't do this, it's too expensive Persephone! You aren't the Queen of Hell, Persephone. I have slept with you once, I am too busy now with other women to say I enjoy your presence anymore, Persephone!"
  
  Even a Tyrant knew not to interrupt a scorned woman when she was furious and all the insults delivered upon her were released in a single monologue. All he had to do was nod at regular intervals until the fury abated.
  
  "To be sure, a dreadful situation," Perseus said in his best 'wise and experienced' stance. "What prevents you from changing that?"
  
  "Unless you have been living in garbage dump for the last month," Persephone hissed, and countless plants began to grow on her arms at an accelerated rate before moving in his direction, "I am a divorced woman."
  
  "A marriage has been dissolved, and oaths were declared null and void. But they can be renewed. The Wealthy One loves you very much...and you love him too, for all that you were upset with him when it came to his illegitimate children. Six months per year you stayed with him, and this for many, many centuries. And divorce has existed for quite a while."
  
  "I ate pomegranate seeds. As per the Ancient Laws-"
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "I'm sorry, oh Goddess. I thought I was the one who was infamous for his clever manipulation of the truth."
  
  "I am telling the truth, son of Poseidon!"
  
  "You ate the pomegranate seeds, I will give you grant you precisely that." The former Tyrant acknowledged. "But I think that you did it deliberately. When your mother began to kill the harvests and every edible plant and fruit upon this world, a solution had to be found. The only thing that has never been mentioned is whether it was your Lord Husband or yourself, my Lady, who had that idea."
  
  "And why I would...manipulate the truth?"
  
  Minor note for the posterity of his adventures: Persephone, daughter of Demeter, was really a horrible liar. The truth could be read in her blue eyes.
  
  "Because unlike what the living souls believed they were haunted by, it wasn't screams of pain that came out from your first 'imprisonment' while you stayed in the Lord of Hell's Palace." His amusement remained invisible; it wouldn't do at all for Persephone to take her divine form right now. "Those were screams of pleasure. And while you ate seed of a sort, it wasn't pomegranate-"
  
  "Fine!" the Goddess of Spring stopped him from continuing, looking frenetically around him as if Demeter was going to arrive at any moment. And thankfully for her, there were no spectators right now to witness their conversation...nymphs and lesser immortals tended to stay away from an irate Goddess, liking their own life, thank you very much. "Fine. What do you want from your silence?"
  
  "You mistake me, my Lady. I did not come here to blackmail you. Your former husband, I think, would punish me most severely the moment he became aware of it. I came to help."
  
  Persephone looked at him like he was a particularly dangerous breed of rattlesnake.
  
  This was...actually quite intelligent on her part.
  
  "If you had not helped, I would still be married to my uncle!"
  
  Ah, yes. Incest. A truly common sin of the Olympians.
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "Must we continue telling lies to each other, my Lady? You didn't divorce because of me or because you were furious your former Lord Husband cheated with a mortal woman several decades ago. In my humble opinion, it was a combination of factors, and the most important of all was your mother's influence, pressuring you and insisting there could be better husbands out there than the Lord of the Underworld. Yet a few millennia...it is a long period of time, even for Goddesses, and now that she has you here permanently, suddenly your Lady Mother is not so eager to deal with your day-to-day expenses and needs."
  
  "I have yet to hear a solution, son of Poseidon."
  
  "Return to Hell," and for once he was sincere. "Become the Queen you were supposed to be. Release Spring, and let another claim the mantle. Your Lady Mother can be appeased by a new treaty and some hard-bargaining from the Rich One."
  
  "Hell is horrible when it comes to shopping opportunities," Persephone did not grit her teeth, but she wasn't far from it.
  
  Suddenly, Perseus wondered how much her return six months per year in the world of the living had to do with wanting to appease Demeter, and how much it had to with ensuring the luxury goods of Olympus and the rest of the divine world not part of Hades' realm.
  
  "Then change it." He told her bluntly. "In case you've forgotten, your former Lord Husband must have billions of souls of men and women who had experiences creating and selling the sort of objects you are happy to sink a fortune to acquire."
  
  To his satisfaction, Persephone looked...thoughtful. And she didn't dismiss his arguments. That was better than his initial plan called for, really.
  
  "What do you want?" the blue-eyed Goddess said at last. "And don't say you are doing it because you want to help our broken couple, son of Poseidon. I won't believe you."
  
  "Is it wrong to want to help a union torn apart by some sad misunderstandings?" the glare he received convinced him that unfortunately, the poor daughter of Demeter needed to develop her sense of humour. "I want to acquire some special seeds. The same seeds, in fact, that you ate an eternity ago to invoke the Ancient Laws and stay with your ex-husband six out of twelve months per year."
  
  "Why?" For the first time, Persephone watched him with genuine surprise. "I was a Goddess when I ate them. For me, the risk was minimal. If you are the one to eat them, you will die in excruciating torment."
  
  As the proud leader of the Suicide Squad, he couldn't reveal the essential parts of his plan...but some hints wouldn't prove too problematic, right?
  
  "The seeds are virtually indestructible and will resist extreme temperatures, correct?"
  
  "Correct," the daughter of Demeter confirmed. "But...you want to feed it to one of your enemies."
  
  Perseus didn't answer. Let the Goddess of Spring think what she believed to be the truth.
  
  Her right hand tightened, before reopening and revealing...two seeds.
  
  "I would easily give you several hundreds of thousands of Drachma for a dozen, my Lady."
  
  "I didn't think to stockpile them when I left the Underworld," the guilty look of Persephone gave her an extremely young appearance.
  
  Well, that or it was guilt at the idea of having missed the opportunity to earn a lot of money to assuage her shopaholic fever.
  
  The two seeds materialised in his hands. He immediately placed them in a special pouch he had prepared, before sealing it and placing in his pocket.
  
  "And where the-"
  
  "Perseus Jackson," the voice of Athena echoed through the empty street, and one second later, the Goddess of Wisdom appeared in her pristine uniform of Admiral. "When my father told you that you were dismissed, it meant you had to use the lift and return to New Byzantium."
  
  "I am absolutely sorry, oh Mighty Protector of Athens," Perseus bowed, "I got lost on my way to it, and I was asking the lovely Goddess here for directions."
  
  "From the Council Room to the lift antechamber, it is a straight line."
  
  "Really?"
  
  The black-haired divine strategist closed her eyes and murmured something unintelligible. Ha! He knew Annabeth's mother wasn't as emotionless as she pretended to be.
  
  "I suppose," the Goddess reopened them, letting them show powerful grey eyes, "that I will have to escort you to New Byzantium to make sure you don't find yourself to some other forbidden location by accident."
  
  Ah, busted.
  
  Athena turned away, presenting her back to him.
  
  "Oh, and Persephone? If I were you, I would remove those flowers and plants. Neither Aphrodite nor Hermes will be very amused by them if they find them when they return to Olympus."
  
  Perseus didn't chuckle. It would be extremely risky to do so, between two Goddesses that could destroy him if they shifted to their respective divine forms.
  
  But the moment he was alone and safe, the son of Poseidon was ready to swear on the Styx he would laugh very loudly.
  
  30 September 2006, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  As their insane leader had warned them beforehand, he didn't return until dawn.
  
  At some point, Ethan knew, he would have to discover how Perseus Jackson predicted that kind of things. The son of Poseidon wasn't a bloody Oracle, but most of the time his words were coming true, and the worst part was that he shouldn't be in position to influence the outcome.
  
  Anyway, the leader of the Suicide Squad was back, and looking reasonably uninjured...something that couldn't be taken for granted, given that he had been summoned by Zeus.
  
  "Welcome back to New Byzantium," the son of Nemesis went on to walk by Jackson's side once the mad boy passed the walls.
  
  "Thank you, my treacherous lieutenant." Well, at least Ethan was certain he wasn't dealing with an impostor.
  
  "Good news?"
  
  "Most excellent news!" the grin which was herald of calamity illuminated the fading darkness. "We are going to be taxed, in the highly likely scenario where our survival during this new Great Quest is assured."
  
  Ethan grimaced. Madness could truly resume...
  
  "Jackson, that's not great news."
  
  "Wasn't it an American politician that said: in this life, there's nothing certain but death and taxes?"
  
  "Err...yes. But I don't think he meant it as a good thing, Jackson."
  
  "Well, in this case, it is."
  
  Ethan was almost ready to pray to his mother for some karmic payback. The Gods knew Jackson deserved it.
  
  "You want to make sure the gold we earn goes directly to fund Olympus?" The son of Nemesis suddenly had a very frightening thought. "Or do you want us to earn strictly nothing from this Great Quest?"
  
  After all, while twelve percent was impressive, it was only a fraction of a total sum, and if the massive pile of loot was equal to zero, then twelve percent of zero was still zero...
  
  "That's an intriguing idea, my treacherous lieutenant! I admit I did not think of it." Perseus Jackson smiled. "But in this case, no, the agreement was signed in good faith. In exchange for one more year of diplomatic immunity when this Great Quest will be completed, I formally swore on a certain Hell Sea that twelve percent of the wealth and treasures we earn during this Great Quest will be transferred to Annabeth's mother."
  
  And with the last part of the last sentence, the trap was revealed.
  
  The son of Poseidon didn't intend for a single Drachma or Denarius to go replenishing Zeus' treasury.
  
  The flow of money created by this tax - always assuming they survived - would go to Athena.
  
  "Will this hold?" Ethan said pessimistically as they continued walking towards the Questers' Barracks. "I mean, I do not doubt the way you can scheme, but-"
  
  "There's a reason why I decided to swear something on a certain Hell Sea, my treacherous lieutenant. And when the Protector Goddess of Athens escorted me back, I specifically invoked her authority of Protector of Heroes and Questers."
  
  That was...very clever.
  
  The tax was not really a tax; it was an offering to Athena.
  
  The Suicide Squad formally asked for her blessings during this Great Quest; in return the Demigods would part with a significant portion of their wealth.
  
  "The King of Olympus isn't going to like that at all."
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, him not liking this is the entire point of the plan," the demonic smile was stronger than ever. "And honestly, it's his fault I was able to implement this scheme at all."
  
  "How?" Ethan asked, extremely interested by the argument.
  
  "The Master of the Olympus was the one to summon me, and the one to call formally for the Great Quest." Perseus Jackson bared his teeth. "But he didn't promise anything in return, even a bauble. A ship? A weapon or a shield forged by the Gods? Some talismans to repel some kinds of monsters? No. There wasn't a single gift handed to the Suicide Squad as a whole. I was told to obey or else. That's a relationship dangerously close to slavery...and the Ancient Laws don't support that kind of petulant behaviour."
  
  "Ah." So Zeus had shot himself in the foot...metaphorically speaking. His refusal to make a single concession, small or big, was going to make sure Jackson's deal was legal, per the Ancient Laws. Athena was the 'Protector', and she was an Olympian. That was enough, especially with the backing of Styx.
  
  But Ethan couldn't help but think that the tensions must be near to the boiling point on Olympus. Athena, daughter of Zeus, should have tried her best to wiggle her way out that sort of 'negotiation'. And Ethan had known firsthand how intelligent her children were. True, this intelligence often made them arrogant...but here the trap had not been subtle at all.
  
  Ares and Hephaestus had been captured. Hera had been deprived of her immortality and powers.
  
  The foundations of Olympus may look solid for the moment, but the behaviour of many Olympians suggested pretty heavily they were anything but...
  
  "What now, of glorious leader of the Suicide Squad?"
  
  Perseus Jackson...yawned.
  
  "Now, my treacherous lieutenant, I am going to sleep several hours and then modify a few plans to adapt to certain changing circumstances. Tomorrow, however."
  
  "What about tomorrow?"
  
  Ethan felt some trepidation mixed with an emotion he knew very well.
  
  "Tomorrow, I will order the Suicide Squad to assemble once again. It is time for us to write a new page of our villainous legend."
  
  Of course. Why had Ethan thought Perseus would be half-reasonable this time?
  
  1 October 2006, The Senate of New Constantinople, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Jason had rarely liked the ambiance reigning in the Senate of New Constantinople at the best of times, and he certainly didn't like it now.
  
  What had been a nest of Demigods and Legacies playing politicians - something extremely dangerous for your health - was now officially in mourning.
  
  If you weren't aware of human nature, that just meant every member of the Senate was busy reciting insincere eulogies for the Legionnaires who had fallen in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Well, that and searching for a scapegoat.
  
  Two Roman Cohorts had, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist.
  
  This was a disaster.
  
  Someone had to be blamed for it.
  
  Quite evidently, Tribune Bryce Lawrence and Octavian were in good place to be thrown to the wolves, but the problem was that one's demise had already been confirmed by Olympus, and the other was not here to answer for his failures.
  
  "When I retire from the Legion," Frank Zhang murmured next to him, something that was really not necessary given the ruckus of...very loud conversations made by the different Senators, "I will do my best to stay away from this vipers' nest."
  
  "That's a gross insult," Jason grimaced. "Vipers are really quite nice compared to our esteemed Senators."
  
  "Err...yeah, you're right."
  
  "The First Cohort of the Twelfth Legion sinned against the Gods! We gave them everything they asked for! We were assured the supplies and the resources we placed at their disposal would be used in an optimal manner! We were promised victory!"
  
  "Who is this one?"
  
  "I think he's a son of Victoria...and a former member of the Twelfth."
  
  "Ah yes, that explains it."
  
  "Tribune Bryce Lawrence and his advisors have lied to us every step of the way, from their preparations to their plans! Wherever the survivors hide, this kind of disgrace will not be tolerated! I propose a Venator force be gathered at once and-"
  
  "This won't be necessary."
  
  The great doors of the Senate opened in a thundering clang, and shouts of alarm echoed through the vast assembly room...quickly followed by screams of outrage as the majority of Senators recognised the identity of the main intruder.
  
  It was Perseus Jackson. It was the son of Poseidon who had managed to survive in the Labyrinth and the Underworld.
  
  "You are trespassing in the Senate of New Constantinople, Greek!" A black-haired Senator was the first to react. "Remove yourself at once, or-"
  
  "Oh shut-up," the Greek Demigod smiled in a demented fashion, and power erupted like a tornado. Most of the Senators who had begun voicing their displeasure closed their mouths...and were unable to reopen them, no matter how hard they tried. "And please don't move, I have something interesting to tell you."
  
  Someone should stop the insane intruder. Hell, Jason and Frank should stop him right now! But as Jackson advanced, flanked by a muscular daughter of Ares and a grim dark-haired boy, the son of Jupiter felt unable to take a step forwards and interpose himself.
  
  And judging by the way the Senators - many of them veterans from one of the three Legios - were not advancing to stop him, preferring to stay immobile and glare at him, this was not only his body betraying him.
  
  Therefore there was no one to stop the Demigod who had led a Quester group successfully to complete a Great Quest when he climbed up on the podium.
  
  And it also gave them an absolutely direct view on the awful orange toga Perseus Jackson had chosen to wear for today.
  
  "Senators, Peers of Rome," for some reason, Jason Grace felt that if the smile of the Demigod grew larger, it would usher the end of times. "I bring great news. The Suicide Squad is going to be assembled for the second time! I can tell you, with great pleasure, that by the will of Olympus, a Great Quest has been called."
  
  Jason was not a politician. He was not an expert when it came to Legionnaire favours and inter-Legion politics. And what little he knew about the Quests of the Greeks didn't incite him to acquire more information about them.
  
  But even with this limited knowledge, the son of Jupiter knew there was only one reason Olympus would call for a Great Quest at this very moment.
  
  "The purpose of requiring my extraordinary services, of course," Perseus Jackson confirmed, "is to make sure the goals that were given to your Legions are achieved. The Master of Olympus," the title was given with so much irony it was comical, "wants his sons back. And the Golden Fleece, of course."
  
  "What about the Legionnaires who have survived the first days in the Zone Mortalis?" A Senator had clearly managed to fight back against the effects of the order to be silent.
  
  "I'm so glad you asked, Senator!" The grin that was delivered was pure evil. "They come at the bottom of my priorities. And if you feel it's an outrage...well, that's too bad for you. I didn't make the list of priorities, the Gods did. Take it up with them if you are not happy with it."
  
  The atmosphere in the Senate, which was already murderous, became more intense in its desire to find a culprit and tear the throat of someone...but for once, this someone was not mortal.
  
  "Now that is said." surely the Hell's survivor could not mistake the angry whispers for a support of his words, right? "Let's talk about the good news. The Suicide Squad is recruiting. Unlike last time, I can't promise a fixed reward like I did for our amusing adventures to the Underworld and back. But unlike the last Great Quest, looting will be encouraged! Olympus will get twelve per cent of the total as a blessing to the Protector of Heroes. Moreover, the thirteen officers will get five per cent each. And the survivors of the non-officers will divide between themselves a magnificent twenty-three percent of the gains."
  
  That sounded like a big incentive in terms of Denarii, Jason could admit it.
  
  But of course, there was this little problem.
  
  "Falsehoods!" An angry Senator barked. "We all know what you did with Scipio Varus! The moment you Greeks think you can get away with it, you use proud Romans as cannon-fodder!"
  
  Perseus Jackson, of course, was insane. And he proved it by smiling like he found the subject of no importance.
  
  "Only when they try to assassinate me in an unsurprising manner, Peers of Rome," the son of Poseidon assured them with a virtuous expression Jason was already disgusted by. "I tolerate many things, but the cannon-fodder must be original to be forgiven in gold and profit. Originality. We must thrive to write an interesting story for the future generations!"
  
  The Senate didn't find a reply, and this time, there was no power to compel the Senators to remain silent. This was just a recognition of how crazy the Greek Demigod truly was.
  
  "Now let's address various bureaucratic problems when it comes to rescue operations and secondary Quests..."
  
  2 October 2006, Garrison Barracks of the Third Legio, New Constantinople, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "I don't like you, Perseus Jackson."
  
  Legate Gabriele Rossi, son of Fortuna, was the commanding officer of the Third Legio, though most called it 'Gallica' in a normal conversation.
  
  Dakota also knew he was one of the most apolitical Roman Demigods serving in the Legions.
  
  Something that undoubtedly had to do with the bluntness he began each conversation with someone that wasn't a subordinate or a friend.
  
  Thankfully, the insane madman they had at the head of the Suicide Squad wasn't the type to be easily offended.
  
  "Now that's just rude," the son of Poseidon complained, though the son of Bacchus could easily see it was for the sake of complaining. "And here I was about to swear my eternal friendship to you."
  
  Dakota recognised the look Gabriele Rossi gave the black-haired menace. It was one wondering if impaling the threat with a very sharp object would make the problem in question disappear.
  
  And the answer this unvoiced question, alas, was no.
  
  "I don't care about your friendship." Apparently, the brown-haired Legate - though his hair were cut so short it was difficult to ascertain what shade they would be if they grew long - had decided bluntness was to be his strategy when speaking with Jackson. "I don't care about the insults you threw to the Senate and what twisted plans you have in mind. I only care about one thing: can you save my Legionnaires? Can you save the Cohort that is trapped inside the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  The questions were important. If they weren't, Jackson would have answered far faster...and with a grin on his face.
  
  "I think," the green-eyed Demigod, "that I can save the survivors once I reach the Sea of Monsters. Which, for your information, will be about one month after our departure from this city's harbour."
  
  "And the departure date is?" The Legate inquired.
  
  "Mid-October. We will try to expedite it as quickly as possible, but our ship hasn't left its construction shipyard. We are already going to...make the journey to the Zone Mortalis its first sea trial."
  
  Gabriele Rossi's expression went from stony to gloomy.
  
  Dakota wasn't going to pretend there was no reason for that. A departure in mid-October meant an arrival in mid-November. All in all, between today and the moment the Suicide Squad found the remnants of the Roman Expeditionary Force, two months would certainly be necessarily spent.
  
  This didn't sound very long...until you remembered that the majority of the Roman warships had been destroyed in mere days.
  
  "By mid-November, the only thing you're likely to find are beached ships and corpses," the Legionnaire commander said. "Assuming you find them, that is."
  
  "My last drone was following the largest coherent squadron in Third Legio's colours when its batteries failed." Perseus Jackson spoke idly. "I can't make assurances as to their survival, but I think I will have an idea where to search...provided what they're up against doesn't disintegrate them like Circe's mega-laser weapon."
  
  This time Dakota was the one to grimace. The Roman Demigod had watched the videos of the destruction of the Dominus Caelum and the Assyria. The only thing positive that could be said about the devastating defeat was that it had been quick, and the dead Legionnaires in their great majority had not been tortured or rendered mad by thirst or lack of food.
  
  It was a far better death than the ones this murderous bastard of Flavio Ronco had wanted to give to the residents of the spa, to be sure.
  
  "Then they will have to hold on until you find them."
  
  Gabriele Rossi was visibly unhappy about it, but there was nothing to do. The only beings that could do something were the Gods, and by the voice of Dionysus and Hercules, the Olympians had made it clear they wouldn't play favourites and intervene to save the survivors of the doomed expeditions.
  
  "Then we have an accord?" Jackson asked.
  
  "We have," the commanding officer of the Third Legio grunted. "What kind of offensive artefacts do you want?"
  
  5 October 2006, Secret Shipyard of the Rogue Engineering Company, Norfolk, United States of New America (de jure)
  
  Leo had never worked harder in his life.
  
  Then again, he'd never managed to work for that long without exploding something important.
  
  And all the work done with the Cyclops had led to...something beautiful.
  
  The entire operation was very close to the end.
  
  Still, satisfaction was everywhere, including in the son of Hephaestus' heart.
  
  Of course, not being satisfied when you had that majestic white yacht dominating everything in the cavern-dockyard would have been very difficult.
  
  "AMIGO! Magnificent, isn't it?"
  
  "Argh!" Leo jumped, before realising it was only Perseus, who, as usual, had somehow arrived and sneaked up upon him without being noticed. "Don't do that!"
  
  "You have to be aware of your surroundings, Fiery Amigo!"
  
  And here Leo really, really regretted telling the older boy he could wield fire as tool and weapon.
  
  "Don't do that again, please," Leo Valdez repeated weakly. "Anyway your new ship is nearly ready. We flooded the dock yesterday and made the first tests. No problems so far."
  
  "I'm glad to hear it. And it is our new ship. In time, it will be the future grand flagship of the Suicide Squad Fleet."
  
  Somehow, it didn't reassure Leo at all. After a few seconds, the son of Hephaestus decided he wasn't going to think about it. There was nothing he could do about whatever dangerous plans the 'Big Boss' had in mind, and the other Demigods had warned him trying to guess the plans of Perseus Jackson would turn him mad.
  
  "What you say...we were forced to change a lot of the Daedalus' design. The engine you gave us was too big." Leo hesitated, before deciding to ask for a precision. "And weren't we supposed to have a maximal speed of twenty-five knots?"
  
  "No," the green-eyed boy grinned, which was, as everyone in the cavern had learned the last month, an advance warning something was about to go very wrong. "That was very much the minimal speed I wanted to sail on the most dangerous seas ever explored by mortal beings. That's why I bought this ship engine and turbines from my contacts."
  
  "It is a beast," the 'volunteer engineer' declared. "I'm not even sure I will be to repair it if it suffers major damage."
  
  "You will be successful, of that I have no doubt." The 'Big Boss' declared while handing him a bag of his favourite sweets. "And the machinery being 'a beast' is exactly what I wanted. Any battle we fight must start when and where I want, not when the enemy decides for us."
  
  The smile of the son of Poseidon was not...very funny.
  
  "Err...the ship should be able to sail up to fifty knots. At least that's how far we plan to push it for the next two days." Leo grimaced before asking what he really had on his heart. "Are you sure we can't take your brother Tyson and a few Cyclops with us, Perseus? You say I am the best, but-"
  
  "No, I am afraid not, Amigo." For once, there was no joke or grin which came to scare him...which was not making him afraid...absolutely not. "Tyson has his own company to run...and even if he didn't, taking Cyclops with us would be problematic."
  
  "Problematic?" The son of Hephaestus really, really didn't like that...
  
  "Unless I am greatly mistaken, Amigo," Perseus Jackson's eyes never turned away from the super-yacht he had ordered them to build, "the Master of Olympus must have recruited the unholy lesbian cult to serve as our overseers...and executioners if we fail to heed their orders."
  
  "The lesbian what?"
  
  "They are known as the Huntresses of Artemis," oh, those women... "you know, they are wearing forest scout garb, love to use bows and dangerous arrows on poor Demigods, and swear for eternity they won't have a boyfriend."
  
  "I heard about them," Leo confessed. "Wait a minute. They aren't just hating monsters! They are hating all male Demigods!"
  
  "Amigo, that's what I tried to convey in my previous warning."
  
  "Err..." damn it, the 'Big Boss' was right. "Okay...yes. But is it that good of an idea to have them aboard? I mean...we are not Demigoddesses..."
  
  "Unless you have hidden something that I am not aware of, indeed we aren't." Leo scowled before the enormous smile of Perseus Jackson.
  
  "They hate men."
  
  "Indeed they doare," the son of Poseidon nodded seriously...though Leo was never sure when the older Demigod was serious or not. "Amigo, the evil lesbian cult hating men and boys in general is the very reason we will be told to accept them as part of our crew. That way the Master of Olympus has a group that will relish into killing all crewmates who are not girls."
  
  "That's not good," Leo said weakly.
  
  "Bah, what's life without a few dozen obvious traitors close to you? The advice is to keep a lot of enemies close to keep you sharp, I believe..."
  
  In Leo's opinion, whoever said that should be punished and given the most tiring and boring duties when working into a forge.
  
  "Anything else?"
  
  Leo thought about what he was going to say next. The various details about the beautiful ship they had built?
  
  No, Perseus Jackson knew them. The 'super-mega-yacht' was one hundred and fifty metres-long, weighed ten thousand tonnes now, had a draught of approximately six metres, and its cruise speed was predicted to be around fifty knots.
  
  All of that had been said over and over. The only thing that hadn't been said-
  
  "We need a name for the ship...Captain."
  
  "I chose one for this beautiful Lady of the Seas long ago, I assure you." The dangerous grin increased. "This ship will be known to all as the Inevitable Doom!"
  
  Leo Valdez groaned in despair.
  
  6 October 2006, Conference Hall Number Three aka 'Suicide Squad Recruitment Office', New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Annabeth knew when she woke up this morning that it was going to be one of those days.
  
  The odds of a certain son of Poseidon not doing something crazy were so low even a drunk son of Dionysus/Bacchus would not gamble on them.
  
  Still, even adopting a pessimistic point of view, it was difficult to believe how badly the whole 'recruitment operation' was starting.
  
  The first being to walk through the doors had been...the Minotaur.
  
  Yes, the Minotaur, it wasn't a hallucination. Because of course, Jackson wanted his bull-headed accomplice back into the Suicide Squad.
  
  Luke had whispered to her it was going to get better after that.
  
  It didn't.
  
  Oh, by the Pit of Tartarus and all its countless horrors, it didn't.
  
  "Ah, our gallant duo is back! Did the offer for free mackerel convince you at last?"
  
  "Don't push your luck!" the smaller penguin snarled.
  
  "What he said!" the Emperor penguin added next to him.
  
  Yes, the next two potential recruits were the Legionnaires that had been transformed into penguins by the Goddesses Khione and Rhode.
  
  Yes, it had been funny when she heard it...but that was many, many days ago.
  
  Now, when they wanted to apply for the Suicide Squad?
  
  Suddenly, Annabeth's tolerance for that sort of madness was growing rather thin...they had had Jake Mason transformed into a donkey before, but it was been something forced upon them during the Great Quest.
  
  And moreover...penguins.
  
  "Jackson, are you sure it's a good idea?"
  
  The answer, alas, was kind of predictable.
  
  "The Suicide Squad is a bastion of tolerance! We will accept all candidates, no matter how many fins, beaks, feathers, and hooves they have! And we have a lot of free mackerel to distribute!"
  
  "We told you before we are only in it to find a counter-curse for our condition!" the Emperor penguin squeaked indignantly.
  
  "But who am I to naysay your motivations?" The leader of the Suicide Squad grinned while ignoring superbly their retorts. "Penguin Rico, it has come to my attention you played with explosives before your little...unfortunate accident. As such, I propose you the role of 'Demolition Expert'."
  
  "Do I have a choice?" the smaller penguin grouchily replied.
  
  "Absolutely not," the son of Poseidon didn't miss this opportunity to give an easy and humorous answer. "Penguin Skipper, you will be a special operative for amphibious operations and other stuff needing a penguin's touch."
  
  Proof that the transformed Romans could learn, the bigger penguin didn't ask if there was an opportunity to change the role he was given.
  
  Annabeth wrote their names. For some reason that she wasn't going to like, Jackson insisted that the paperwork had to be in order.
  
  Former Centurion Rico Kowalski, Demolition Expert
  
  Former Decurion Julian Skipper, Special Operative for Amphibious Operations
  
  The penguins signed the papers...or at least covered their fins with ink to do something that could be described as such.
  
  "Now that we have recruited the most terrifying force on the seas, a duo of Penguin Marine Infantry," Annabeth sighed; at this rate they were all going to be utterly mad before entering the Sea of Monsters, "the next volunteers must step forwards, please."
  
  And yes, there were volunteers. Many in the Conference Hall had come to be the witnesses of this crazy spectacle, but there were Demigods who had decided to come on this sunny morning with the intention to volunteer. A dozen had fled when they realised that Asterius the Minotaur being a member was not a joke, but several remained.
  
  Whether it was because there were greedy or for another reason, Annabeth didn't know.
  
  The first Roman to walk to the recruitment table was a dark-haired tanned boy who had to be close to eighteen in age. Unlike many potential aspirants, his grim expression told the grey-eyed Demigoddess that this one, at least, had no illusion about his chances of survival.
  
  "My name is Douglas Smith, son of Volturnus, Quester. I volunteer in your 'Suicide Squad' to have my revenge. My brother was one of the Legionnaires that this moron of Bryce Lawrence led to his death."
  
  "Welcome aboard, Douglas Smith. The Suicide Squad will do its best to help you fulfil your vengeance."
  
  The grim-faced Roman nodded, and then after signing, went to wait by Ethan Nakamura's side.
  
  The second Roman volunteer could not have been more different. The amused grin on his face was only a shadow of Jackson's legendary smirks, but it was sufficient to generate the feeling that this Demigod was in it for far less noble reasons than avenging a dead brother.
  
  "Fergus Cook, son of Liber," the fair-haired boy who had to be sixteen or seventeen drawled with a lazy stance. "I did two years in the Legion before they threw me out. "Now I'm in it for the money. You told us there would be plenty of loot, right?"
  
  "Indeed, indeed, I did," Perseus Jackson approved and shook his hand enthusiastically. Annabeth suddenly had a bad feeling this one was going to be another Scipio Varus. Their insane leader may think it was extremely a good idea to approve potential assassins in their ranks just to counter their betrayals... "Welcome in the Suicide Squad, Fergus Cook! Your dedication to the acquisition of Drachmas will be remembered for a very long time!"
  
  The third Demigod to step forwards was...looking sickly. This first impression was more than justified as he coughed violently. The noise made plenty of souls in the Conference Hall wince, for it wasn't a sound that came when you wanted to simply clear your throat.
  
  "Nick Coleman, son of Quirinus," the brown-haired Roman presented himself. "I caught a nasty curse while serving the Gods. If I can't get the gold to pay for my medicines, I will die within three years. Your Great Quest is my best chance to survive."
  
  "You have made the right choice, Nick Coleman. The Suicide Squad's goals will not disappoint you."
  
  Many Demigods and Demigoddesses decided at this moment that no, ultimately, that this whole business of going into a Zone Mortalis which had already been the downfall of two Legionnaire Cohorts was far too risky.
  
  The number of 'enthusiastic volunteers', which had already been reduced significantly, fell further, leaving only two...and none of them were Greek Demigods.
  
  "Bella Medina," the black-haired Demigoddess spoke in a condescending tone, and instantly, Annabeth began to dislike her. "I'm the daughter of Scotus, and you can rejoice for I will save you from the incompetence of those morons who volunteered before me."
  
  "That's a big claim, we have very high standards, you know."
  
  Black eyes filled with arrogance stared at the mischievous green eyes, and Annabeth sighed internally. Someone was going to die during this Great Quest...
  
  And finally, that left the last candidate...one who, when he abandoned the black cloak hiding mostly everything about him, was revealed to be a heavily-muscled Demigod of twenty-something that the daughter of Annabeth Athena had never seen before at camp.
  
  There were powerful Demigods in New Byzantium, like Luke...but this one seemed to be shining from his sheer strength.
  
  "Richard Grant, son of Hercules," the voice was so filled with confidence and arrogance that instantly, Annabeth rolled her eyes. Great, after the daughter of Scotus, they had another arrogant mountain of muscles. "I am here because you need the best of the best for this Great Quest."
  
  "And you are the best?" Obviously, the son of Poseidon couldn't resist asking this question...
  
  "Evidently!" Richard Grant proclaimed so loudly that there was no way each and every spectator could mistake his words for anything else. "In my opinion, you don't need crying babies, you need real men and-"
  
  No doubt the son of Hercules would have loved to continue, but he was forced to jump aside as an arrow narrowly missed him.
  
  A heartbeat later, Annabeth acknowledged it wasn't Richard Grant who had been targeted. It was Jackson.
  
  The proof?
  
  The arrow had hit the table right between his hands.
  
  "Who dares-"
  
  "The Huntresses of Artemis." Luke announced with a fatalistic expression. Annabeth grimaced in turn. Oh great, they had been rid of Nightshade - the Huntress, not the Hellhound - in Hades' Palace when her Goddess took her away.
  
  She had not the time to think more about the subject as teenagers armed with bows and clad in forest-themed hunting attires stormed into the building. There were nine of them. All the Huntresses looked armed to the teeth...and were clearly ready to use them against the crowd if they were given the order.
  
  "Welcome to the Suicide Squad!" Perseus Jackson beamed. "On behalf of all my lieutenants, treacherous and heroic, I bid you-"
  
  "Be silent, male."
  
  Annabeth winced, and she was far from the only one. There had been many times disgust, exasperation and anger in Nightshade's voice when she was in the Suicide Squad.
  
  This was different.
  
  This was hatred, and it was not because Jackson had done something to her.
  
  It was hatred for the sake of hatred.
  
  It was hatred because he hadn't been born a girl, and for all the conspiracies and treacherous plans the son of Poseidon had done in the last months, this was definitely something he wasn't guilty of.
  
  "We will go with you on this Great Quest, by the will of Olympus. You will obey your orders, or I will obey mine and dispose of you before leading this Great Quest to victory."
  
  Zeus had decided this...man-hating girl was to be their new leader if Jackson disappeared? Pit of Tartarus, that was a stupid idea...
  
  "So be it," with a shining silver arrow pointed in the direction of his head, even Perseus Jackson seemed to have decided a joke was not worth it right now, "I will need your names for the records. The Greek and Roman bureaucrats insisted after the paperwork mess of the last Great Quest."
  
  The leader of the Huntresses looked at the most powerful Demigod of their generation like one looked at a worm...and it offended her, because unlike this hateful lieutenant of Artemis, they had accomplished great things, damn it!
  
  "I am Phoebe."
  
  "Oh yes, the daughter of Eris-"
  
  Jackson had to throw himself out of his chair, or the arrow fired would have found its mark between his eyes.
  
  "She is no mother of mine," Phoebe hissed angrily, "and if you open your mouth again, vermin, I will make sure to cut your arms and your legs before throwing you to a pack of hungry wolves for dinner."
  
  Looking at Jackson, Annabeth could tell the threat had been acknowledged seriously.
  
  And from a Great Quest worth of experience, the daughter of Athena was confident of one thing: the other volunteers, penguins included, may have had low to insignificant chances to survive the Sea of Monsters, but their chances of survival were good compared to those of the Huntresses of Artemis...
  
  7 October 2006, Director's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Chiron was so surprised he let all the cards he had in his hands fall on the table.
  
  "Ha!" Dionysus laughed. "I knew you were bluffing, you old horse!"
  
  At this moment, the millennia-old centaur could care far less about losing the game and the tokens he had bet a few minutes ago.
  
  Card games were something to take seriously, of course, especially when Apollo was fond of reminding him his losing streaks when he visited.
  
  But there were things more important in life.
  
  Things like the huge ship entering the New Golden Horn Bay as he watched in disbelief.
  
  "Did you know?" He asked.
  
  "Hmm? Did I know about what?" The God of Wine conjured some grapes and threw them to his favourite leopard. How did Chiron know it was the favourite? The poor animals should do some exercise after all the 'presents' he received from Dionysus.
  
  "The ship which has entered the Bay!"
  
  "Oh, that's why you were so distracted..." a bottle of red wine appeared from nowhere, "nice yacht, by the way. I think even Aphrodite and Apollo used smaller ones one year ago when they showed off at Saint-Tropez."
  
  "This is not my yacht!" Chiron seethed.
  
  "Well, no, obviously," Dionysus yawned. "You don't have enough humour in you to call your ship the Inevitable Doom."
  
  "The what?"
  
  In the blink of an eye, the latest model of binoculars sold by Hermes was around his neck, and when Chiron placed them in front of his eyes, they allowed him indeed to confirm the Olympian's words.
  
  The ship coming in their direction was indeed a yacht, albeit one of colossal proportions. Poseidon had likely a bigger ship when he wanted to show off. Zeus had one too, one bigger than the ones his brother had, because the God of Thunder would never tolerate being second, no matter how insignificant and childish the 'contest' was. Well, that, and the Master of Olympus had never been shy copulating with barely-adult women in bikinis when summer arrived near the hottest Mediterranean destinations.
  
  This yacht was big. And it was entirely painted in white, with the notable exception of the ship's name, which had been painted in orange.
  
  And indeed, in plain English, the letters INEVITABLE DOOM could be read.
  
  Chiron did not need more clues to know who exactly had ordered this ship to be built.
  
  "The son of the Earthshaker is mad."
  
  Dionysus chuckled.
  
  "This isn't funny, Mr. D!"
  
  "I disagree, old stallion!" the God of Wine guffawed. "You should see your face!"
  
  "This is not funny at all!" Chiron glared, and to his consternation, the sole effect it had was to make the Olympian howls of laughter get increasingly louder. "Do you have any idea how much such a ship has cost?"
  
  "Millions of Drachmas, I would say," the God of Wine continued to chuckle as a pride of leopards got closer to be rewarded with small pieces of meat, grapes, and caresses. "Who cares? When you are mortal, Demigod or not, it's best to assume you won't get another chance. Better enjoy your life to the fullest!"
  
  Sometimes, Chiron really wondered whose side Dionysus was...
  
  "Do you have any idea how much it is going to increase the tensions between the Olympians, to have the son of the Earthshaker build something like that in secret?"
  
  The Olympian adjusted his bright violet toga before delivering a loud sound of burping.
  
  "My dear little pony," the son of Zeus' expression went to adopt a maniacal smile, as purple flames began to burn in his eyes. "I didn't find myself in the middle of India with the populations of entire cities worshipping me because I didn't want to offend Hera or something equally ridiculous! I walked eastwards, got drunk, and made a rampage because I wanted to have FUN!"
  
  Chiron shook his head. To his regret, he had almost forgotten that in addition to being the God of Wine, Alcoholic Substances, Drugs, Attraction Parks, and a lot of entertainment locations...'Mr D.' was also the God of Madness.
  
  "Sometimes I wonder why the Lord of Olympus wanted you to be rewarded with the Twelfth Throne." The old centaur - though clearly, he didn't look like his real age - declared bitterly.
  
  "To be honest, old horse, I wonder the same thing every time I enter the Council Room." Dionysus yawned in an exaggerated fashion. "It's certainly not because of my sane and pleasant personality. Anyway, I await eagerly the next shocking moves of the Suicide Squad's leader."
  
  This was not...oh, who was he kidding.
  
  By voicing it like that, Dionysus had just made it inevitable the name was going to be as good as carved in the marble, if it wasn't already.
  
  Chiron sighed, all the while continuing to observe the gigantic yacht and the growing crowd of Demigods assembling to greet it in the New Golden Horn Shipyards.
  
  Madness was everywhere, and often he felt like he was the only sane person in the middle of an asylum...
  
  8 October 2006, Hades' Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Bianca di Angelo was used to see a lot of mocking expressions on Perseus Jackson's face every day.
  
  Now that those expressions had been replaced by reverence, the former Dread Empress didn't exactly know how to react.
  
  True, the black-haired boy's reaction was directed at the artefact-lanterns, not at her, but since Bianca was the one to craft the magical devices in the first place.
  
  "This is extraordinarily work, thank you."
  
  "You have me first-rate materials to work with." The daughter of Hades decided to play the 'humble role' for once...especially as it had the merit of being true.
  
  "Of course! When it comes to the creation of artefacts, it is out of question to buy cheap. Vital parts of my plans must not be endangered because someone succumbed to the temptation of saving a few Drachmas."
  
  This confirmed the son of Poseidon was a being filled with contradictions. For some things, he was absolutely ready to buy cheap stuff that would break in the first seconds, if not sooner...
  
  "I can't confirm it for everything, but I guarantee the lanterns I crafted will fulfil the purpose you want." Bianca stared at him as enchanted boxes were brought forwards by the inevitable gargoyles. "Still, I don't doubt you have contingency plans if we experience major problems and the plan fails."
  
  Perseus grimaced, and once again, it wasn't one to amuse or break the concentration of Nico like the son of Poseidon often did during their Mythomagic card games.
  
  "Every plan can fail; this is an imperfect world after all. But I would prefer this one didn't." The green-eyed boy gave her a thoughtful look. "This plan has the benefit of giving us the initiative, the surprise, and possibly a lot of information as we really begin our Great Quest. If I can't make it work, the alternative is following the same journey the doomed expedition of the Romans did."
  
  "The Charybdis-Scylla Strait," Bianca said slowly. "Yes, it wouldn't be an easy beginning-"
  
  "I could care less about the Strait by itself," the Zeus-appointed leader of the Great Quest dismissed the problem presented by two gigantic monsters as if it was nothing. "I am more worried about the entire fleet of the Triumvirate waiting for us right behind the strait. The Inevitable Doom has been equipped with many weapons and an engine capable of leaving Battleships miles behind it in a straight race, but in such a battle, we will unavoidably take casualties and lose the element of surprise. And it is safe to bet that no matter how many ships we sink before breaking through, the enemy leadership will order one or two survivors to shadow us. That way they will have plenty of information about our moves...and which islands they will be able to intercept or ambush us in the future."
  
  Bianca had to admit the scenario described was very likely. Indeed, one could easily acknowledge that despite the storm which had allowed the Romans to get through the blockade of the Triumvirate, the Mark Antony-Cleopatra duo had triumphed using this very strategy.
  
  The ships sent by the Twelfth and the Third Legio had been outthought, outmanoeuvred, and outfought every step of the war.
  
  If the Suicide Squad didn't want the same to happen, Jackson's first mad plan - she knew far better now to hope it was the only one - was their best chance to enter the Sea of Monsters with a significant advantage against the numerous enemies they intend to confront.
  
  Unfortunately, whether or not the plan would work had to wait they were sufficiently close to the Zone Mortalis. Until then, it was useless to speculate further.
  
  So the daughter of Hades changed the topic of the discussion.
  
  "What is the big deal with the King of Pirates, anyway? The information collected by the drones is enough to fill books about it, yet there is no one who is certain of what the title they search for truly is."
  
  "I have many theories," Perseus grinned again, and alas, normalcy returned...and by normalcy, Bianca meant 'madness'. "I have no doubt the pirates unleashed across the Sea think it is about becoming immortals and achieving what the Immortal Sorceress of the Labyrinth did."
  
  And Pasiphaë had become the Goddess of the Labyrinth. That would imply that the title of 'King of Pirates' would reward its owner with immortality and the power to truly rule over the Sea of Monsters.
  
  But the former Dread Empress had not spent decades in a previous life ruling the Dread Empire of Praes by not paying attention to the way people phrased 'their' truths.
  
  "The pirates think...one might say you don't have a great deal of confidence this theory is true."
  
  "One might say that." Perseus replied with a smirk. "One might also say the Gods used this legend to bait a lot of the most dangerous pirates to have ever existed, at a time where the Olympians were eager to extinguish the Golden Age of Piracy. They may have rewritten the history books afterwards, but I have grabbed enough priceless lore to say that the Demigods who hoisted the black flag were turning into an uncontrollable problem before Olympus decided to implement this desperate plan."
  
  "One might wonder," the Lightning Thief said cautiously, "where they did find the idea to go for a Zone Mortalis' creation."
  
  "Oh, that's an easy one," the ex-Tyrant surprised her again. "They took inspiration from the trials of Odysseus across the Mediterranean. The poor King returned home only ten years after the sack of Troy, and he was alone, empty-handed, and friendless. And he did so only with the help of the Owl Goddess, his protector. It didn't take much to make the new version of the Odyssey a near-perfect trap."
  
  "And our next Great Quest will take place inside it. Lovely."
  
  "Yes, absolutely!" Her next word had been filled with irony...but Perseus Jackson once more grabbed like it like it had been intended to be serious. "The Master of Olympus denied to all, including his brothers and children, the right to rule the Sea of Monsters. As a result, no God or Goddess is dominant there."
  
  "The Triumvirate could be on its way to do exactly what you say."
  
  "I don't think so. I think they are after a far bigger prize."
  
  "And this prize is?"
  
  "That will remain my little secret for now..." and here for what felt the thousandth time already, Bianca had the urge to strangle him. "Think about it as part of the challenge every time you want to discover my plans!"
  
  And worse, the infuriating bastard had so well manipulated the conversation that in the end, the daughter of Hades was still in the dark when it came to the issue of the King of Pirates...
  
  8 October 2006, Poseidon's Barrack, New Byzantium, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Lou Ellen did believe she was not the kind of Goddess to react rashly when something extremely unexpected happened...and thanks her mother's power she didn't, for with Jackson and the Suicide Squad, there had been enough events since they departed for the Labyrinth's entrance to lose yourself in a sea of craziness.
  
  But there were some things you couldn't help but react.
  
  And the massive arsenal of magical artefacts and hyper-advanced weapons waiting for them near the entrance of the Poseidon's Barrack was clearly one of those things.
  
  "Perseus," the daughter of Hecate sighed.
  
  "Yes, my dear sorceress lieutenant?"
  
  "How much trouble we would be into if right now some Olympian emissary happened to visit us and discover this?"
  
  "We're transporting this cargo in the middle of the night to the Inevitable Doom, protected by several devices which are supposed to prevent any spy from being interested in our nightly adventurous deeds. Does it answer your question?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  Most of said artefacts were completely illegal, then. Or at the very least, the Council of Olympus would never have tolerated them falling into the hands of the Suicide Squad's Questers.
  
  Lou Ellen did her best not to sigh again. It was hard.
  
  "I know many of those weapons are going to be useful." Three large boxes were clearly some kind of very dangerous grenades that could be of use both on land and sea battles. "But couldn't you go and store the very dangerous stuff on the super-yacht while it was in its shipyard?"
  
  "My dear sorcerous lieutenant," suddenly a bad feeling made her shiver, "the very dangerous stuff is already aboard the Inevitable Doom. The Armageddon missiles, for example-"
  
  "The Armageddon what?" Lou Ellen hissed angrily.
  
  "The...is it too late to tell you to forget about it?"
  
  "Yes!"
  
  "The Armageddon missiles is one of my plans to make sure that if the entire fleet of the Triumvirate fleet tries to corner us into a massive naval battle, it won't be the Suicide Squad who will die and feed the monstrous fishes of the Zone Mortalis at the end of the day."
  
  Lou Ellen looked at the son of Poseidon with a very skeptical expression.
  
  "I know what missiles are, Jackson. There is no way we have a compartment big enough to store them. There's also the fact of what would we use to launch them to begin with?"
  
  "The swimming pool we have on the prow can be emptied in three seconds, and once the mosaic decoration is removed, the launchers are revealed and the annihilation of the enemy is in its preparation stage."
  
  Lou Ellen gaped.
  
  "What?"
  
  "My dear sorceress," the green-eyed Demigod was visibly enjoying her surprise as much as one mortal could, "I told you again and again like I did with the others that it is a super-mega-yacht. And yet-"
  
  "This is an armoured cruiser pretending to be a mega-yacht, Jackson!" Lou Ellen calmed herself. "Well, at least we will have a lot of firepower to defend ourselves from common and extraordinary threats. Can I assume, for the sake of reassurance, that the Armageddon missiles are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the weapons you stores inside the Inevitable Doom?"
  
  "Oh, I think you can safely assume that."
  
  Was it wrong that the answer excited and worried her in equal measure?
  
  "Okay, I will concede your point. This is not the most dangerous stuff which could make several Gods and Goddesses very angry." The daughter of Hecate examined quickly several massive boxes. Magical arrows, dangerous swords and cursed javelins...explosive rings, disgusting concoctions which could be propelled at incredible distances with propelling spells...and even a magical flying carpet which must have been obtained from the Amazons. The other 'not-weapons artefacts' included strange compasses which were frozen in amber-coloured transparent globes and things she couldn't decipher the purpose of.
  
  By Jacksonian standards, it was nothing out of the ordinary...wait a minute. Lou Ellen walked forwards the bigger container which was surrounded by a massive number of gargoyles, and ignoring their squeaking, opened it.
  
  The moment she did, the blonde Demigoddess felt the desire to strangle the leader of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "Jackson...I thought we were all in agreement that the idea of the Hell Sarcophagus was to be abandoned after what the Lightning Thief did with one?"
  
  "It's not exactly what I said," Perseus Jackson corrected her with a cheerful grin on his face. "I told everyone that an Orichalcum Sarcophagus to turn yourself into an immortal being is extremely impractical and shouldn't be attempted again. You will notice that this sarcophagus, for all the gold foil embellishing it, has exactly zero gram of Orichalcum added to the precious metals which were poured into its construction. I will also let you examine the Greek scripts carved in the metal. Those are not magical formulas which encourage anyone to claim immortality."
  
  After several minutes, Lou Ellen was forced to acknowledge Jackson was saying the truth. The scripts which had been magically enchanted were all emphasizing the mortality of the unknown party the sarcophagus was destined to.
  
  "But...what is the point? Between the Lightning Thief, my magic, your talents, and the other talents we have inside the Suicide Squad...we do not exactly have a problem to kill our opposition."
  
  And if the opposition was immortal...well, Lou Ellen was pretty sure no God or Goddess worthy of the name would jump in the sarcophagus no matter how nicely you asked or how much Charmspeak you could push in your voice.
  
  "Ah, ah, ah. I think my intentions for this artefact will remain a secret...for now."
  
  "Fine, keep your secrets. Just keep it out of sight of the Rich One's daughter, so that she doesn't get new megalomaniac ideas."
  
  "You know we're speaking about an Empress who conquered an entire continent by overwhelming might, right?"
  
  Lou Ellen glared.
  
  "Fine, fine. I don't plan to use the sarcophagus for a long time, anyway. In fact, if we aren't able to reach a certain island, it's possible we may never use it. The Sea of Monsters, like all Zones Mortalis, is a location where classical methods of navigation fail, and normal maps are as useful there as they were in the Labyrinth. To go where we want to, we will have to rely on esoteric methods and a lot of contingencies."
  
  "Thus the artefacts?"
  
  "Thus the artefacts."
  
  After a conversation like that in the middle of the night, twelve hours of sleep had never sounded more than attractive.
  
  "What now?"
  
  "Well, my sorcerous lieutenant, those boxes aren't going to transport themselves..."
  
  "If you don't help, I will curse you into oblivion," the daughter of Hecate threatened immediately while glaring at the infuriating member of the Suicide Squad.
  
  It must have been indeed impressive, because Perseus Jackson immediately began to use his Hydrokinesis to move the container of the Egyptian-themed golden sarcophagus...
  
  10 October 2006, Golden Horn Bay, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  If they compared today with the day they departed for the first Great Quest, it was night and day...literally.
  
  Before he led them to one of the entrances of the Labyrinth, they had scurried away in the middle of the night.
  
  Today?
  
  It was noon, the divine-mandated sunny weather was making the Bay a true haven of light and magnificence, and though it was hardly warm on the deck of the Inevitable Doom, it couldn't be called either.
  
  And of course, there was the crowd. It seemed half of the entire Roman-Greek population had come to watch them leaving.
  
  Obviously, it was a far smaller number than the Expeditionary Force had been able to enjoy. When the Roman warships had sailed away, everyone had been here to give their farewells. But it had been summer, and the son of Poseidon was realistic enough to know that some things couldn't be changed in mere months.
  
  To begin with, a non-negligible percentage of Demigods, Legacies, and other citizens of New Byzantium thought the Suicide Squad had been extremely lucky when it came to the matter of their survival during the First Great Quest.
  
  Those poor souls thought them fighting their way through the challenges of the Labyrinth, the Asphodel Sea, and several armies of skeletons...it was all a fluke.
  
  Many were so blinded by their prejudices they had gone so far to officially bet against their survival in public.
  
  The poor fools.
  
  His treacherous lieutenant saluted him as he marched towards the prow.
  
  "We're ready to raise the anchor, Captain."
  
  Perseus gave him an unsatisfied look.
  
  "Only Captain? I thought my promotion to the rank of Grand Admiral had already been approved!"
  
  Luke Castellan, heroic lieutenant of the Suicide Squad, sighed loudly.
  
  "We told you, Ethan, the power was going to go up to his head before we raised the anchor."
  
  "Be careful," the son of Poseidon smirked while donning the superb Napoleon-themed hat his faithful gargoyles brought him. "We're operating by the rules of the Suicide Squad Code, now."
  
  "And those rules are?" the daughter of Athena asked.
  
  "The rules are whatever his twisted head will invent," Dakota McDonald answered between two gulps of his flask. "Am I right?"
  
  "He is," Lou Ellen, his dear sorceress lieutenant, didn't give him alas the opportunity to throw a splendid tirade.
  
  "That doesn't surprise me," Bianca di Angelo commented. Perseus wondered if the daughter of Hades realised how much the last months had changed her. Probably not.
  
  "We haven't sailed a mile, and already mutiny is brewing among this crew! How cruel! How tragic!"
  
  "Stop it, oh insane Boss!" the son of Hephaestus had arrived, and given how dishevelled he looked, he had visited once again the engine room in the last minutes. "Everything is in the green. We're ready to leave."
  
  "What marvellous news!"
  
  Perseus chuckled for several seconds before resuming his walk. He avoided the swimming pool - as tempting as it was, this was not the time to bathe - and went on to jump on the guard-rail formally marking the separation between the Inevitable Doom and the sea that waited below.
  
  "Proud citizens of New Byzantium! Legionnaires of New Constantinople! I want you to remember this moment! Today I proclaim to you my eternal friendship! Today you are watching the Suicide Squad sail away towards adventure and danger!"
  
  Thanks to the megaphone installed right in front of him, Perseus was sure everyone, from Dionysus to the lowest recruit of the Legions, was really listening to him now.
  
  "I am really proud to announce the bets you have placed against my survival have been all recorded to the proper authorities!" Suddenly, the tumult of the crowd, which had resonated with many whistles reeking of mockery, were far more subdued. "By my record, the total of Drachmas you have gambled on my death is over two million! You will not regret it. We will plunder in your name. We will plunge the seas into bloody chaos. And you will pay for it! FOR THIS IS THE SUICIDE SQUAD, WE SAIL TO THE SEA OF MONSTERS, AND THIS GREAT QUEST WILL BE SUCCESSFUL! BY AND FOR THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP!"
  
  At last the son of Poseidon turned and watched all the Demigods waiting behind him.
  
  The non-officers were gaping...the officers looked really resigned.
  
  "So," Perseus smiled, "what did you think of this latest monologue?"
  
  Author's note: Player One failed. Ready Player Two.
  
  To give you a reminder of the scale of what will be attempted in Arc 2 of this crazy story, here is the order of battle of the Suicide Squad as they leave New Byzantium.
  
  Suicide Squad Order of Battle
  
  Warship: Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  Officers (13):
  
  Perseus Jackson (Captain, son of Poseidon, appointed leader of the Great Quest)
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone (daughter of Hecate)
  
  Bianca di Angelo (daughter of Hades)
  
  Clarisse La Rue (daughter of Ares)
  
  Dakota McDonald (son of Bacchus)
  
  Luke Castellan (son of Hermes)
  
  Annabeth Chase (daughter of Athena)
  
  Drew Tanaka (daughter of Aphrodite)
  
  Ethan Nakamura (son of Nemesis)
  
  Miranda Gardiner (daughter of Demeter)
  
  Leo Valdez (son of Hephaestus)
  
  Michael Yew (son of Apollo)
  
  Antigone Barbara (former Goddess Hera)
  
  Non-officers (8):
  
  Asterius the Minotaur
  
  Ex-Centurion Rico Kowalski
  
  Ex-Decurion Julian Skipper
  
  Douglas Smith (son of Volturnus)
  
  Fergus Cook (son of Liber)
  
  Nick Coleman (son of Quirinus)
  
  Richard Grant (son of Hercules)
  
  Bella Medina (daughter of Scotus)
  
  Huntresses of Artemis (Executioner Force, 9):
  
  Phoebe, daughter of Eris
  
  Kimiko
  
  Kalinda
  
  Alexia
  
  Eudoxia
  
  Judith
  
  Jade
  
  Ellen
  
  Jenna
  
  And if you think for some naive reason everyone is going to survive the Great Quest...well, this is the Suicide Squad.
  
  It is time it lives up to the name, don't you agree?
  
  More links for this story:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  The Sea of Monsters
  Chapter 17
  
  The Sea of Monsters
  
  It is said every Quest story must start with the humble beginning of the heroes, so let's do exactly that.
  
  Our Captain is utterly insane.
  
  Perseus Jackson is the craziest and most infuriating Demigod to ever live, and believe me the competition is normally hard in that regard.
  
  But there has never been a hero or anyone coming from New Byzantium that can contest him the title of 'King of Madness'. It's impossible. He tries to taunt the Fates at least ten times a day, and no, the fact he named our ship the Inevitable Doom doesn't count.
  
  From the moment we sailed away from the city, it has been a succession of mad deeds. When we aren't busy fighting giant sea monsters that this super-yacht always seem to race towards to, our crazy leader is busy leading us in 'special acquisition operations'.
  
  Officially, it's to replenish the ammunition we use against the sea monsters.
  
  Personally, I just think the son of Poseidon loves to pillage and steal. Especially when certain institutions and depots were indirectly financed by several members of the Olympian Council, but since they were under the guard of various monstrous parties, our Questers can attack it without any overt retaliation.
  
  What did I want to say? Oh, yes, there are incidents every day. I'm pretty sure we sunk at least five boats belonging to various criminal organisations in the Caribbean. The Cuban military forces must have put us on their list of most wanted enemies, because the Gods only know how the Mist covered our grand theft there.
  
  I will not speak of Panama. What happened there will stay a secret. Believe me, ignorance is bliss. Let just say we used the Canal to reach the Pacific Ocean, and only a few monsters of no importance died. The Panama Canal is still operational, I must insist. It was not exactly a given when Jackson revealed his latest crazy move.
  
  Fortunately, after that particularly episode which will haunt me until I die, the incidents have decreased. It's not because our crazy Captain has developed a sense of sanity; it's just that in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it's difficult to do anything else but fight sea monsters. Of course, a certain Demigod insists now we must kill some things bigger than this super-yacht with nothing but swords and our natural skills. Officially, it's to save ammunition. I think personally it's just to torture us, and ensure we have permanently an urge to murder him.
  
  As I said the raiding operations have almost ceased. But all is not well. The Huntresses of Artemis do not try to pretend they're here for anything but killing us if we make a step in the wrong direction. Unsurprisingly, the actions of Jackson have not improved their mood. Also unsurprisingly, the Huntresses being forced to coexist on a ship where many Demigods are male offends their irrational hatred of everything that is not a girl.
  
  The miraculous thing is that no one has died yet. Yes, no one has perished. Not even this crazy penguin that is always found playing with explosives before throwing them in the maw of the nearest sea monster he can find.
  
  I have a feeling this isn't going to last.
  
  Mother, why did I accept to join a Great Quest again? I feel I am becoming mad...again.
  
  Okay, enough about the recent events.
  
  I am Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, Navigator of the Inevitable Doom, officer of a Great Quest whose goals are in the realm of the divine.
  
  We are approaching the entrance of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  21 November 2006, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, not far from the Solomon Islands
  
  When the plans had been drawn for his flagship, Perseus' first decision for the operations room - a fancy name for the room that would gather his war councils, he was sure everyone would agree - had been to insist it would include an aquarium.
  
  No, it was not for the decoration. Although the effect was incredibly good, if he said so himself.
  
  The aquarium was here so that with a single push on a red button, he could wield an incredible quantity of water with his hydrokinesis, while his 'guests' believed him disarmed and inoffensive.
  
  So far, this creation wasn't used. So far.
  
  Given the insubordinate glares most of the Huntresses gave him as he entered the operations room, the former Tyrant felt this was going to change today.
  
  "Good morning, officers and non-officers of the Suicide Squad!" He said brightly.
  
  "Captain," Ethan Nakamura drawled, "it is three in the afternoon!"
  
  "Don't be pedantic, my treacherous lieutenant!" the son of Poseidon grinned. "It must be morning somewhere. Accuracy in everything is a dangerous problem we must strive to fight against."
  
  And if you believed it was sheer nonsense...well, you were right.
  
  "Anyway. I've summoned all of you here to tell you how we are going to enter the Sea of Monsters tomorrow. This is-"
  
  "We all know how we are going to enter the Sea!" One of the Huntresses barked. "We will go through the Scylla-Charybdis Strait, and teach these two monsters a lesson they won't forget!"
  
  Perseus made his smile disappear. He could tolerate having his monologues interrupted, but the manner of it and the arrogance of Artemis' servant was a problem best strangled before it grew uncontrollable.
  
  "Name?" The Huntresses looked a lot like each other, with their braided hair and their identical hunting attires.
  
  "Eudoxia."
  
  "Eudoxia..." for once he decided not to mangle the name, just to make his point clear. "Are you the Captain of this Great Quest?"
  
  "Err...no?"
  
  "I'm so glad to hear it," if they couldn't notice his sarcasm, those near-immortal girls were a lost cause, "I was beginning to have concerns this was developing into something ugly. There is an ugly word for usurpation of authority when you're on a ship...mutiny, I believe it is called."
  
  "We are not going to obey your orders! You are an odious-"
  
  Mere seconds, and he was already forced to use the red button. How predictable.
  
  "What is...arrgh!"
  
  A second later, Eudoxia the Huntress was strangled by a respectable tentacle of water, and everyone was far more respectful.
  
  "Jackson! Stop this immediately!" The Huntress-in-Chief had, of course, seized her bow, and was ready to shoot an arrow between his eyes. "Eeeek!"
  
  That was the natural reaction when his hydrokinesis disarmed her. To prevent other problems, the other Huntresses lost bows, arrows, and a rather impressive quantity of weapons while the water pressed against their throats.
  
  "We are going to make things clear," the leader of the Great Quest began in a tone that was deliberately devoid of any jokes, pranks, and bad puns. "I am the Captain of this ship, and the commanding officer of this expedition. You might have thought that because I was lenient for the first part of this journey, I was going to tolerate blatant insubordination. I am going to be blunt: you'd better change your mind, or the first thing I will do where you are concerned will be to throw you into the closest monster's maw I find. Am I clear?"
  
  The water stopped strangling them, though he didn't send it back to the aquarium.
  
  "Yes! Yes, you are very clear!" Judging by the panic in Eudoxia's voice, one at least had received the message.
  
  Unfortunately her appointed leader had not.
  
  "I am the second of this expedition, granted authority by Artemis Herself!" Phoebe snarled, and her expression was honestly...disturbing. She really was a lost daughter of Eris, Goddess of Discord, no matter what she said. "You will not-"
  
  Water began to strangle her again, though since all the other Huntresses were far more obedient, Perseus didn't resume the suffocation in their cases.
  
  "You are useless as a second." Bluntness had its uses, and today seemed a good day to deliver as many punches as he could. "I have a sorceress to complement my hydrokinesis and alter slightly the weather. I have another sorceress to maim and torture every monster I come across. I have a heroic and a treacherous lieutenant to man the various stations and make sure I haven't forgotten anything of importance. I have a Navigator, a Helmsman, an Engineer, a Healer-Musician and many other important roles filled. Guess what? Your party of nine is fulfilling none of these essential roles."
  
  He clicked his fingers, mimicked a strangulation motion, and at last the eyes of the Huntress widened. Yes, she was finally realising that no matter how bothersome explaining her death would be, there was a point where all the blessings of Artemis wouldn't protect her from him.
  
  A few seconds later, he stopped the hydrokinesis strangulation, and the Chief Huntress collapsed, unconscious.
  
  "Here is what going to happen. Bianca di Angelo, by virtue of being the most powerful Demigod and Demigoddess after myself, is going to be the second of this expedition, beginning right now. The third mate will be Lou Ellen Blackstone, the fourth is Ethan Nakamura, and the fifth is Luke Castellan. Unless I gather the crew here to change it, it is how it will stand."
  
  "It is...we aren't going to...we don't like listening to orders coming from...men."
  
  "That's too bad," Perseus was almost to the point of commiserating with them, how tragically sad...oh wait, he wasn't. "But personally I don't like having you aboard my ship in the first place, and I'm controlling myself to not drown you into the Pacific Ocean. So we are going to tolerate each other...agreed?"
  
  "Err..."
  
  That was almost worth a good joke. Perseus sighed, and returned the water to the aquarium before falling in his comfortable Captain's chair.
  
  "Now that little matter is settled, it is my greatest pleasure to say we aren't going to use the Scylla-Charybdis strait and meet my lovely family any time soon." Many blinked in surprise. Truly many heroes of today were abysmal failures when it came to mythology. "Yes, Charybdis was my half-sister, before she was transformed into a monster. As for Scylla, she's my half-brother's daughter, making me her uncle...at least from a genealogical point of view."
  
  "I was more worried, to be honest," Douglas Smith asked for permission to speak and received it, "by the fact we aren't going to go through the Strait. It is hardly a safe entrance, but from what the rumours tell, the Clashing Rocks are way, way worse."
  
  "The rumours in that particular case are more likely true," the son of Poseidon admitted candidly. "I haven't tried them myself, but some witnesses described them as a field of meteors impacting the sea at irregular intervals. If one hits your ship, it's over. So yes, the Strait mentioned previously is the safest entrance, as hard as it is to believe. The little problem is that the fleet of the Triumvirate is waiting for us behind them."
  
  "And you know this...how?" the Huntress who had some common physical traits with Drew Tanaka asked.
  
  "I'm so glad you asked, my dear. They are here, because I sent them a message professing my eternal friendship...and that I was going to fight Charybdis and Scylla tomorrow before entering the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "YOU WHAT?"
  
  It was good he had placed the Huntresses' weapons out of range while they struggled, otherwise they would have attacked.
  
  "No need to scream," Perseus complained. "I am sure you heard me the first time."
  
  "Why...why would do something so stupid?" This time it wasn't a Huntress who tried to insult him, it was Bella Medina, the daughter of Scotus.
  
  "I did it because I had to be sure they would be in a location where I am able to monitor them by long-range drones." He explained slowly as he was speaking to a dim-witted girl. "And since I have no intention to use the Strait in the short-term, I lost absolutely nothing. All I had to do was to keep a course making the Triumvirate think a course for the Scylla-Charybdis Strait was increasingly likely, and let their assumptions do the rest."
  
  "If you really know where the fleet is, we might be able to ambush it." Richard Grant wasn't salivating, but he was not exactly hiding his eagerness to slaughter the soldiers of Cleopatra and her lover.
  
  "We might. But alas, no matter how much of this fleet we destroy, it is incredibly likely it won't be a decisive engagement. It will force us to expend too much ammunition while running a high amount of risk. Remember that while the Triumvirate can afford dozens of ships sunk, we have only the Inevitable Doom. If our ship sinks, it's nearly game over. The enemy, alas, can build new warships thanks to its temporary control of Forge MP-42."
  
  "We will have to fight them, sooner or later," the son of Hercules grumbled, crossing his arms in a belligerent manner.
  
  "True. But it will be later. I want the battle to be unfair for them when it will finally begin."
  
  "But..." Fergus Cook was visibly lost. "If we aren't using the Scylla-Charybdis Strait, and we aren't trying to survive the Clashing Rocks, how in the name of Olympus will we enter the Sea of Monsters? There are only two entrances, Jackson!"
  
  "This is indeed the truth."
  
  The former Tyrant grinned largely, savouring the surprise he was about to spring on some simple souls.
  
  "That's why tomorrow, we are going to create a third entrance...just to prove it can be done."
  
  22 November 2006, outer approaches of the Sea of Monsters
  
  "This isn't going to work, Jackson."
  
  Hera wished she was more confident when she said it...or that the son of Poseidon paid any attention to what she had just voiced. Because so far, Jackson was ignoring her. The mad Demigod was tinkering with a sort of strange dodecahedron-shaped cage. The object would have been big enough to imprison a small bird, and she had no idea what was the purpose of this device.
  
  "On the contrary, it will."
  
  Well, she had received an answer, at last...
  
  "No one has ever created additional entrances in millennia. It's impossible."
  
  "Are we supposed to pretend that the Gods can't add entrances when and where they want?"
  
  The former Goddess frowned. As always, it was difficult to say if Perseus Jackson was well- informed or asking disturbing questions in the hope she made a mistake.
  
  "Fine. Yes, the Council of Olympus can in theory create additional entrances."
  
  And just like that, Hera knew she had fallen into this trap...for the son of Poseidon had begun to grin like someone had announced him his birthday had come early.
  
  "No, they can't. Or rather, the Council can give the order to add an entrance...and it remains to be seen if it will be obeyed."
  
  The Lightning Thief arrived at this moment and placed an enormous emerald in the dodecahedron-shaped cage. The sounds to open and to close it confirmed that the 'cage' was made of some metal. The priceless gemstone, however, was covered in magically enchanted glyphs, and was certainly no normal object.
  
  "This is ridiculous."
  
  "No, what is ridiculous is that depriving you of your Godhood removed a lot of your memories and your knowledge gained when you were a Goddess, Antigone." Hera grimaced. She hated that name. "In your opinion, how can the Sea of Monsters have 'entrances' since it is not land-locked anywhere?"
  
  "A system of enchanted barriers, obviously."
  
  To her relief, this time Perseus Jackson didn't mock her.
  
  "The Sea of Monsters' maximal size is limited by them, yes. But it is not enough."
  
  "Not enough?"
  
  "Dear Antigone, while one Immortal Sorceress is now unable to leave the Labyrinth, there are two others at large, and one of them happens to be inside the Sea of Monsters. She's not particularly fond of Olympus either. Being a powerful sorceress, it would have been child's play for her to begin to dismantle the barriers enchantment per enchantment in the last centuries. Yet she did not do it. Why?"
  
  "Because we offered her something she wanted?"
  
  Judging by the expression of pity, it was definitely the wrong answer...
  
  "No, Antigone. The Immortal Sorceresses didn't act because it would have been pointless. There are barriers and magic separating the Sea of Monsters from the rest of the oceans and seas of this world. But what is really making the separation permanent is the divine translocation erected long before Columbus sailed to the 'West Indies'."
  
  "Divine what?"
  
  "In simple terms, think of it as a multiple layer like an onion." The son of Poseidon explained. "The Sea of Monsters is the core of the onion, and the first magical barriers are the outer layer. But somewhere between the layers of the barrier, there is a bigger layer that is absolutely impassable...unless you use the two 'holes' that are the Scylla-Charybdis Strait or the Clashing Rocks."
  
  "And what, pray tell, did the Gods do to make a realm impossible to sail through?" One of the Huntresses asked arrogantly.
  
  Something flashed in Hera's mind. Images of green light, dark shadows, and shrieking souls.
  
  "Hell."
  
  Perseus nodded in answer to her whisper.
  
  "So your memories can return given the proper stimulus. Yes, that's correct."
  
  "Is it a joke?"
  
  "No, no it isn't. Your Dreadful Majesty? It is time."
  
  The Lightning Thief gave a glare to the black-haired boy, before whispering six words of power...and suddenly the green crystal began to act as a beacon of green light.
  
  Which was very, very good, for in the next seconds, the sunny weather disappeared, replaced by dark clouds. The ocean around them, so calm mere minutes ago, was beginning to be shaken by dark waves. But the most dangerous pressure was definitely coming from above their heads...thunder rumbled in the distance.
  
  The light of the emerald increased in range and luminosity nevertheless, and a few seconds later, it began to illuminate...a wall that had so far remained invisible.
  
  No, not a wall. It was too fluctuant, too changing for that.
  
  It was the first barrier erected around the Sea of Monsters.
  
  It was incredibly impressive in conception and magical power...but it was not pleasant to look at. The barrier was shimmering with darkness and green lights, and Hera's best guess was that the green was coming from the beacon the daughter of Hades was powering.
  
  "They are not going to like it at all!"
  
  "That's really too bad!" And unfortunately, Perseus Jackson was clearly amused by the storm and the disaster he had attracted upon their heads. "This Great Quest has just begun, and many journeys stand unexplored. My dear sorceress lieutenant! The lanterns are ready?"
  
  "Ready," Lou Ellen had arrived next to her without being noticed, though Hera figured there were other more important things to worry about. "We will be able to bind them in a minute or so. You've really landed us into a new suicidal Quest, didn't you?"
  
  "This is not my fault!" The boy wearing a horrible orange T-shirt insisted with a large grin on his face.
  
  Thunder shook the world, ever closer.
  
  "THIS IS AN AGE OF PIRATES!" The Captain of the Inevitable Doom shouted to the heavens. "REJOICE! FOR THE AGE OF WONDERS IS NOT DEAD! REJOICE! FOR NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE! REND!"
  
  There was a monumental explosion.
  
  There were shrieks and the sound of thunder.
  
  Reality seemed to screech, and after a couple of seconds, an enormous fissure began to appear in the barrier...before it grew in size with every heartbeat. In about ten seconds or so, it was no longer a fissure, but a full-scale breach in the barrier.
  
  Ten more seconds, and there was a big rift forming, big enough for something as large as the mega-yacht to get through without issue.
  
  "Are you mad?" Hera asked. "If the dead can leave-
  
  "Dear Antigone, give me a little credit. I have only struck the protections hindering our glorious Inevitable Doom from sailing into the outer layer of the Sea of Monsters. I have not struck the magical foundations keeping the dead trapped inside the Rich One's realm."
  
  Hera could only gape at him in shock. How powerful was he to do something like that...and with so much precision? It was no small feat for a God already...
  
  "Bianca! You will take the helm, so bind yourself to a lantern first."
  
  "You really intend to sail through that?"
  
  "It will not be my first hell cruise," Perseus Jackson said with a fake modesty, "and I intend it to not be the last. Hmm...something is missing."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Yes! How could I be so forgetful? This new entrance deserves a name!"
  
  They were in the middle of an enormous storm summoned by Zeus, about to sail into Hades' realm...and he was worried about a name?
  
  "I WILL KILL YOU!"
  
  "Yes, yes, later...ah, I found it. This new entrance will be called Hell's Reach!"
  
  22 November 2006, Hell's Reach, the third entrance of the Sea of Monsters, mortal side
  
  If someone asked him and he was forced to answer honestly, Perseus would have to admit Zeus had reacted far faster than his worst-case guesses had planned for.
  
  Despite the name of 'Suicide Squad' he had chosen for his 'Heroic Quests', the former Tyrant wasn't that suicidal. He had firmly intended for the 'third entrance' to stabilise before sailing the Inevitable Doom through it.
  
  The God of the Skies had robbed him of that option. Staying outside the Sea of Monsters was no longer safe; given the size of the waves created, it was not a question of if, but of when the Master of Olympus would successfully sink their ship and drown them.
  
  "Luke! Everyone is bound to a lantern?"
  
  "Everyone is bound," the son of Hermes replied, showing his right arm, which was chained to the old-fashioned glass container created by the Demigoddess who had been Dread Empress Triumphant. "You didn't tell us what they were doing-"
  
  "Later! First let me check...my dear sorceress lieutenant! The engine room, we forgot Amigo!" A good thing he had made a rapid count of all Questers...
  
  Thankfully, the daughter of Hecate was fast, and a few seconds later, the son of Hephaestus was dragged out of his lair of oil and metal, and bound to a lantern.
  
  Just as the Inevitable Doom passed the threshold of Hell's Reach.
  
  Immediately, darkness engulfed them.
  
  Not the kind of 'storm obscuring the sky' they had encountered minutes ago. True darkness.
  
  For all the perilous situations he had countered before, Perseus had to acknowledge there was something...unnerving about it.
  
  Fortunately, between the lanterns and the crystal-beacon illuminating it, there was enough light for all the crew to continue its duties without colliding into each other.
  
  "We are in the realm of the Underworld?" Luke Castellan asked as he went to give Bianca di Angelo the compass-artefact she needed to steer a course in this starless night.
  
  "We are."
  
  "It doesn't look like...the places we visited when...when we invaded it for the First Great Quest."
  
  "It doesn't."
  
  The son of Hermes predictably, smirked at his curt answers. Unfortunately, the Lightning Thief serving as his helmsman didn't.
  
  "Jackson," the daughter of Hades didn't growl, but she was not far from it. "Explain."
  
  "Right." He cleared his throat for the effect. "If all things had gone according to plan, and a certain number of Gods had not monitored our progress so closely, I would not have used my strength with so little precision. It was always my plan to create a third entrance; the lanterns and the other protections you were bound to give you a solid magical shield against the influence of this realm, as long as we don't stay here for long."
  
  "That doesn't explain why we are in this eternal darkness." Bianca replied stubbornly. "Nor why it doesn't look the Underworld I am familiar with."
  
  "To answer the former, the darkness is just a layer, like everything else." The hydrokinesis-wielder said with a shrug. "As for the latter, this was what I was trying to explain. When I used Rend, I created an entrance to the Sea of Monsters, and it happens to pierce the veil separating reality before going through Hell. But magic is something both wondrous and terrifying...it doesn't have to be the Underworld we were familiar with."
  
  "What are you saying?"
  
  Perseus chose to not answer immediately. Instead he just stared at something that could be seen in the distance...and it could be best summed-up as fire. A lot of fire.
  
  "It looks...it looks like a volcano." Dakota said weakly as he climbed to join them. "Please tell me I am dreaming..."
  
  "If it's a dream...or a nightmare...we are all in it together." Luke told him, in a tone that failed to be reassuring. "At least we can still sail around it. And...what in the name of Olympus? There are mountains of ice on the right!"
  
  "Well," Perseus lightly drawled, "hell has truly frozen over. I have a feeling all the oaths of the world above are going to need big changes."
  
  Deep inside, he was smiling. The Hell they were watching of their own eyes now was evidently not in the present, but of the future. Whether it was the true future or merely a possibility among many remained to be determined, of course.
  
  As their course remained incredibly fast, all the glory of it was revealed in a few minutes. On their left, there was a volcanic heartland, with a mega-volcano dominating a spectacle of magma and dark rocks. The entire landscape seemed to be merging obsidian and fire into something both titanic and molten. On the flanks of the volcano, a gigantic black fortress was built, and here too, it seemed to have merged with the lava flowing from the caldera in a sea of flame and molten rock.
  
  On the right, as his heroic lieutenant had justly said, there was ice. A lot of ice. Icebergs were detaching themselves from the pack ice when they were on the shore, much like lava generated a great turmoil when it touched the water...but overall, there was an endless sea of ice, dominated by a gigantic mountain that was so high you felt tiny and insignificant. The summit of this peak was hidden from view, as snow fell over a certain altitude...but for all the lack of visibility, it was not enough to hide that there was a second black fortress there.
  
  "The Sea...Jackson, this is truly the Sea we-"
  
  "Don't say her name here," Perseus said seriously, "please. We are...well, in a situation where it's better to not attract any kind of attention. Please."
  
  Saying 'please' twice apparently was enough to convince the son of Hermes this was something he didn't want to risk.
  
  "The lanterns...they are not just protections, aren't they? They are making us invisible?"
  
  "No," Bianca said regretfully. "I wished I could have done that...but this is not within my power. It just made us insignificant in the eyes of everything that matters in this realm. And Perseus...you will have a lot of questions to answer for once we're out of here."
  
  "Agreed," a lot of the Questers would do their best to forget it the moment they were past this obstacle, but not the former Dread Empress. Her attempt to become the Goddess of this very realm was too recent, too fresh. "And happily, I can feel the second breach I made. A few more minutes, I think..."
  
  The former Tyrant did not sigh in relief when the obsidian arch materialised from nowhere in front of them. Today, he wasn't going to taunt the Fates in this manner.
  
  He studied it attentively, however. The timeless journey they had made had clearly been enough to stabilise the breach and Hades had had time to build a black triumphal arch to mark the threshold on this side.
  
  The green-black veil separating the realm from the dead from the world of the living had not changed...and he wasn't going to complain.
  
  "Get us out of this realm."
  
  "Yes, Captain."
  
  For all his efforts to remain calm, the moment his skin was warmed by the sun once more...Perseus began to cackle maniacally.
  
  25 November 2006, Hell's Reach, the third entrance of the Sea of Monsters, Sea of Monsters' side
  
  Bianca waited for every lantern to be back in their protection boxes and the agitation to decrease before searching for Perseus.
  
  As everyone soon opened a bottle of their favourite drink to celebrate their survival, the daughter of Hades judged the opportunity to have a conversation was good.
  
  She found him near the top of the yacht, right next to the voluminous antennas and radars that had been installed to observe everything around the Inevitable Doom.
  
  "You didn't tell me the Underworld would look like that in the future."
  
  The son of Poseidon lowered his spyglass, and for a few seconds seemed content to enjoy the sun and the near-paradise weather.
  
  They were in the Sea of Monsters, but the cloudless sky and the warm temperatures were near-identical to those they had enjoyed before Zeus' tantrum tried to sink them.
  
  "What you saw...it is a possible future."
  
  "A future you are trying to push us towards to."
  
  "A possible future," the Demigod repeated before grimacing, "keep in mind that we saw a few things, but the realm of your father is very big."
  
  "But-"
  
  "And what we saw was frustratingly incomplete," he continued speaking disregarding her interruption. "The lanterns protected us from the influence of the Underworld, but they also limited our vision to a fraction of what we should have been able to watch. We were the lucky ones...or the unfortunate ones, depending on our perspective. Many of our companions couldn't see the dark citadels at all."
  
  "Are you saying that before I now have a clue about your true plans?" Bianca felt a flicker of amusement...and received a shrug in return.
  
  "I am saying this to give you the truth, my dear hellish lieutenant: I don't know if my plans will be successful...and if they are successful, I don't know I will get what I want in the bargain. If this is the future that await us, yes, it will mean our chances to survive this Great Quest are really good. But if it is only a possible future, then it means nothing."
  
  "I...I see."
  
  It all depended whether the future was in flux, and how much Hell could change with a crazy son of Poseidon's using all his intelligence to cause drastic alterations to the status quo.
  
  "I will tell you in all confidence that one of the changes that might lead to such a future will come soon."
  
  "Thanks for the confidence."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "You would recognise it anyway...and I don't think you will be the only one."
  
  It didn't do anything good to her curiosity, to be sure. But after months spent listening to his monologues, Bianca could recognise when she wasn't going to obtain more secrets and revelations.
  
  Thus the Demigoddess judged it good to change the subject of the conversation.
  
  "The Master of Olympus is becoming a real problem."
  
  "Yes. This tyrannical God has no respect for my creativity."
  
  Bianca had a sudden urge to facepalm.
  
  "He will try to kill us, Perseus."
  
  "Well, he won't as long as we're cruising in the Sea of Monsters." The son of Poseidon cheekily retorted. "If he tries to intervene here...I think all the powerhouses, beginning with a certain Titaness, will smack him for his insolence. It would also break a lot of very, very Ancient Laws, the kind no one, not even the Master of Olympus, wants to break without excellent reasons."
  
  "And when we will leave the Zone Mortalis? Assuming we ever do, that is."
  
  "Assuming we ever do, I will have found by then a way to regain our diplomatic immunity."
  
  The daughter of Hades blinked before...letting a small chuckle escape her lips.
  
  "You really believe it is possible to achieve some kind of...detente? The Thunder God is getting more and more paranoiac!"
  
  "Is it paranoia if the enemies are really there, sharpening their weapons?"
  
  Evidently, seen like that...
  
  "Anyway. Diplomatic immunity is not the only arrow to my bow, if you forgive my Huntress metaphor. There are multiple resources in the Sea of Monsters, and Olympus has very little influence there. If there is no truce once this Great Quest is over...well, I believe we will have no choice but to train like proper villains and make sure that when we leave the Zone Mortalis in several years, we will be able to challenge them on our own."
  
  "This will take a long time." Her father's overwhelming strength had told her clearly how big the gap was between a major deity and she.
  
  "The Sea of Monsters is separated from the world for a reason."
  
  Bianca turned her head to look at the breach in the magical barriers...and the black triumphal arch delimiting it was clearly showing a multitude of screaming faces and dead skulls.
  
  "Good point. The entrance...we have nothing to seal it with."
  
  "I know. That said, I don't think many will take the risk once a few adventurers try to follow on our steps."
  
  "The lanterns weren't that difficult to make." The Demigoddess who had stolen the Master Bolt argued back.
  
  "I think you underestimate your talent," Perseus complimented her. "But assuming for a single second you don't, I have been forced to use half a dozen powerful artefacts tied to my compass to guide you between the two exit points. My beacon-crystal also increased the potency of the lanterns and the various enchantments we used to hide our presence. Not to mention the Inevitable Doom is hardly a normal ship..."
  
  "You specifically built it to survive this kind of challenge, didn't you?"
  
  "Guilty as charged."
  
  Bianca didn't laugh...not when she had suddenly a good idea what would happen to any 'adventurers' that tried to use this new 'third entrance'.
  
  Now that Perseus had mentioned everything that had been used...it was clear Hell's Reach was not easier to cross than the Clashing Rocks or the Straits where Scylla and Charybdis awaited.
  
  In fact, it gave far worse chances of survival if you weren't adequately prepared.
  
  The prospect brought an expression of concern over her face...and Perseus in the mean time had drawn a small compass, protected by a very common metallic box.
  
  Bianca had the time to note that the compass was extremely weird...instead of giving the north, the main needle seemed to turn in every direction before choosing one.
  
  "Well, I believe I have a course for the Inevitable Doom."
  
  That quickly? Something was definitely fishy...
  
  "And the Triumvirate fleet?"
  
  "They are patrolling behind the Scylla-Charybdis Strait, about one day of navigation away. By the time they realise how we entered the Sea of Monsters, we will be far away-"
  
  About a kilometre away, there was a gigantic geyser...as if a new maritime volcano had been born.
  
  But it was not a volcano.
  
  The masts came first, and faster than she could say it, there was an honest commerce raider straight out of the Sailing Age racing towards them. The black flag hoisted by the main mast was a clear indicator of its allegiance.
  
  "Pirates," Bianca growled. "It seems not everyone fell for your diversion gambit, Perseus."
  
  "Yes, my dear sorceress...but I swear to you, they are going to regret it. SUICIDE SQUAD! ENEMY SHIP AHOY! PREPARE THE SHIP-KILLER WEAPONS!"
  
  Naturally, having surprise on its side, the enemy pirate ship was the first to fire.
  
  Unfortunately for her captain, the Inevitable Doom was far more armoured than its white mega-yacht's innocent appearance suggested.
  
  The cannonballs that fired were unable to scratch the pain of his flagship, and that was when the enchantments failed to return the projectiles directly to the sender.
  
  "Blackbeard's ship is kind of impressive." Ethan Nakamura commented lightly. "I watched it in video, of course, but this submarine mode is really something."
  
  "Indeed. Except this is not Blackbeard."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Blackbeard's ship is the Queen Anne's Revenge. This sailing warship is called the Chrysaor's Legend."
  
  "Oh...you mean the submarine mode is copied by all the pirate ships of the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "I think," the son of Poseidon said thoughtfully, "we have to consider this hypothesis seriously."
  
  "Formidable."
  
  "It isn't that bad, my treacherous lieutenant. While it confers to them a significant surprise advantage, the pirates are clearly unable to fire while they are submerged. Moreover, I suspect that the time they can spend in ambush is not infinite. It's likely this ship plunged the moment we emerged from the gate, and it lied there, waiting for the right moment to sneak upon us."
  
  A few more pitiful noises echoed, as more cannonballs utterly failed to cause any damage to the Inevitable Doom.
  
  "Okay, the joke has lasted long enough. Let's begin...with the Greek Fire Carronade."
  
  The green button had his favours, this time.
  
  A secret compartment opened on the flank of his flagship, and Perseus grinned as the significant gun vented its fury.
  
  Five seconds later, the Chrysaor's Legend was transformed into a magnificent pyre of green flames.
  
  "See? This is the definition of an unfair fight if there ever is one, my treacherous lieutenant."
  
  "You didn't even give them the opportunity to hear your pleas of eternal friendship, you know."
  
  "That's a serious problem." Perseus nodded sadly, trying to sound truly in pain and removing nonexistent tears. "And to say I have committed fratricide!"
  
  "Fratricide?"
  
  "Well, Chrysaor is Medusa's whelp, and my father sired him, so he is one unlamented half-brother that-"
  
  An enormous wave rose and half-submerged the Chrysaor's Legend. When the warship of the Golden Age of Piracy became visible again, the Greek Fire had been entirely extinguished.
  
  And then Perseus felt it. The sea...the sea was no more a mere sea.
  
  There was magic and something divine imbuing it. Something incredibly dangerous.
  
  "Counter-order, lieutenant. Put back all the major weapons in storage. Place everything that is too unstable and dangerous under the deck and make sure it isn't going to move by a single millimetre."
  
  "I suppose that answers the question if you are responsible for that miraculous wave."
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, I know you believe me mad, but I am not going to expend precious ammunition then spare my half-brother just because I want everyone to believe I am crazy." Perseus paused.
  
  "It seems Chrysaor has a powerful patron." Once again, the sunny weather disappeared. Clouds gathered, though this time, they were grey and hardly as threatening as the ones Zeus had summoned.
  
  It began to rain. Fortunately, it was rather warm...for all the good it did. Given the short distances involved for this battle, the new limited visibility was definitely giving a favourable battlefield to the Chrysaor's Legend.
  
  "I don't think she very much cares about Chrysaor." The waves became ever more violent, and suddenly, two large currents began to collide. "It is a manner to test us."
  
  "She?"
  
  "My father could do it, but given our opposition and the...power I can feel in the water, I think it is safe to say a certain Sea Titaness is watching us."
  
  "Ah."
  
  The weather conditions worsened. In many ways, Perseus felt reinvigorated. The salted smell of the waves was everywhere, bolstering his strength. And the rain was banishing away the exhaustion of having used his abilities to Rend the magical barriers of the Sea of Monsters with the help of powerful artefacts.
  
  But the Sea of Monsters was in turmoil.
  
  What was Thethys trying to do? She wasn't going to sink them, there was really no point to such an illogical action, so what was she trying to achieve?
  
  Clarisse's scream half a minute later gave him the dreadful answer.
  
  "MAELSTROM! MAELSTROM!"
  
  25 November 2006, the Maelstrom, Sea of Monsters
  
  Annabeth had heard the Sea of Monsters was filled with extremely dangerous monsters and that every day brought new enemies, but come on!
  
  Their arrival wasn't one hour-old...and they were sent a damned Maelstrom!
  
  "Change tack!" She ordered Dakota. The son of Bacchus had been given the helm by the Lightning Thief before this new calamity arrived upon them. "Change tack! Stay as far from the vortex as you can!"
  
  "No!"
  
  Annabeth turned her head...and gasped.
  
  She didn't know how the son of Poseidon had done it in so little time, but he had completely changed his attire.
  
  There was now a large pirate tricorn upon his head. The small 'saboteur-penguin' was on his left shoulder, observing the enemy ship with a spyglass. An outrageously decorated coat screaming 'pirate!' had been thrown over his orange T-Shirt, and martial boots had replaced his summer sandals.
  
  "Captain, we can't get closer! This is madness!"
  
  "Out of the question! The Titaness is trying to test us, not kill us! Forwards! We are going to accelerate, and pulverise the Chrysaor's Legend in a splendid pursuit that will be sung for eternity!"
  
  "I am not going to do that!" Dakota shouted, evidently wishing he was drunk here and now.
  
  "Then I'm taking the helm!" Perseus joyously proclaimed, pushing the Roman Quester. "Hang on to something, Questers of the Suicide Squad! We have journeyed to hell, and now death itself is here to remind us how life must be lived!"
  
  The formidable engines of the Inevitable Doom roared, and Annabeth...well, she obeyed the order. She tried to hand on to something, which happened to be the edges of the command post below.
  
  At the same time, the daughter of Athena tried to not look at the gigantic vortex that was threatening to swallow them all.
  
  "This is madness!" Dakota moaned.
  
  "Yeah...we're going to overtake the enemy...if we don't fall into the Maelstrom..."
  
  The crew of the Chrysaor's Legend appeared to have been as surprised as she was by Jackson's suicidal strategy. Worse for them, the Inevitable Doom was far faster, even under these stormy and rainy conditions.
  
  "PREPARE THE PROW CANNONS!"
  
  One day, Annabeth would find out how many dangerous weapons were hidden from view inside this ship. Because she hadn't been aware the three machine guns and old-fashioned medial cannons had been aboard.
  
  But apparently, Leo Valdez and Ethan Nakamura were and-
  
  "FIRE! FIRE AT WILL!"
  
  The universe became a song of explosions and madness.
  
  Several shots missed, but the majority didn't.
  
  The enemy ship was engulfed with explosions, and a lot of wood and debris were thrown into the air...along with several members of the crew, which were clearly not humans at all.
  
  "Dolphins?"
  
  "Bipedal dolphins!" Perseus cackled while correcting the course of their ship, showing no strain all despite the sheer strength it required to stand here, as unlike them, he was directly confronting the fury of the wind, the rain, and the waves. "They were pirates once, but they made the disastrous mistake of trying to rob a certain God of Wine, and were transformed into dolphins for this fatal mistake! I think it was intended as a sign they should give up piracy!"
  
  Well, it had clearly backfired then. The ship they were fighting against had an enormous pirate flag hoisted on his main mast...
  
  "FIRE! FIRE AT WILL!"
  
  This was a massacre. There was no other word for it. The Inevitable Doom was more or less invulnerable to the weapons of the Chrysaor's Legend, and the dolphins were falling one by one into the maelstrom each time the blast of a weapon sent them flying.
  
  And of course as it was a pursuit, the pirate ship could only fire its stern-mounted weapons...which were limited to a couple of cannons and some kind of magic-launched flamethrower. The latter in these conditions - Annabeth was pretty sure the rain had a magical component - was useless, and the former were the next best thing to it.
  
  The enemy Captain must have acknowledged all of this, for the sailing vessel tried to alter his course and immediately change his strategy. Of course, they were so close now that it was nearly impossible to not figure what the bipedal dolphins were up to...
  
  "They are going to try to board us!"
  
  "Grant! Take the helm!" Perseus ordered the son of Hercules.
  
  "We prepare to repel them?"
  
  "By all the storms of this Sea, no! We are going to board them and take their ship for ourselves! My pirate career must begin with something that will respect all the splendid traditions of the Golden Age!"
  
  "THERE IS NO NEED TO DO THAT!"
  
  "COURAGE, SCOUNDRELS AND DEMIGODS! THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO LIVE A GREAT QUEST!"
  
  The Maelstrom's vortex was an eye of madness, and rain and waves continued to transform the sea into something hellishly dangerous...but Annabeth feared this was only the lesser danger compared to the madman that was their Captain.
  
  Chrysaor had not thought it would be easy to board this ridiculously tough super-yacht...but the risk was worth the trouble. In a cannon fight, his ship would lose one hundred times out of one hundred. He had to change the rules of the engagement...and that was then that arrows began to rain, killing several of his crewmates.
  
  "INCOMING!"
  
  One of his pirates didn't evade quickly enough, and found himself impaled on an enormous red spear coursing with electricity.
  
  The real threat, however, was not coming from them. The equivalent of a barrel of water smashed into him, and his hydrokinesis, for the first time in centuries, failed him.
  
  A desperate parry saved his neck, and when he tried to use a rope to stand up, some cursed magic propelled him straight at the height of the fixed topsail. Only a lifetime of extreme battles saved him from a fall into the maelstrom.
  
  Of course, his enemy was relentless. By the time he had managed to find his balance, Chrysaor found the enemy finishing his climb of the main mast, and drawing a large sabre. This was infuriating...and so were the grenades exploding below them.
  
  "I am going to sell you as a slave once I win," the son of Medusa swore.
  
  "That would not be very nice...aren't we family?"
  
  Chrysaor studied the arrogant Demigod in front of him. The clothes were ridiculous and an insult to any self-respecting pirate, but the black hair and the green eyes were unfortunately very familiar. Suddenly, the reason his hydrokinesis had failed him at the worst moment possible was revealed.
  
  "You are a son of Poseidon," Chrysaor conceded. Denying it would be completely stupid, and he wasn't that foolish. "But you are not family. You are like the others. You are a hero. I am a villain! I am destined to be the King of Pirates!"
  
  "No, brother," his enemy retorted and Chrysaor grimaced as their sabres clashed and the other Demigod revealed himself phenomenally strong, "I am a villain too...and if the only way to challenge Olympus is to conquer that Sea...then-"
  
  "Do not mock me!"
  
  Ten thousand duels he had fought, and all of them had ended with his victory. He was a swordsman with no rivals.
  
  And so he attacked, for all the fact he was many feet above the upper deck of the Chrysaor's Legend, for all that there was a maelstrom raging, for all the rain making everything wet and slippery.
  
  "Mocking you? But I am not mocking you, oh Captain of Dolphins! I am the leader of the Suicide Squad! Didn't you hear my recent exploits?"
  
  "I heard of you," Chrysaor hissed, "one more of the so-called 'rebellious heroes' that come out from time to time. You are like the rest! When you will be proposed immortality, you will kneel before the Master of Olympus! You will prostrate yourself like the rest!"
  
  "No. I will not."
  
  Their sabres clashed. Feint, parry, attack, counter-attack. Many times their weapons were locked in a silent but violent struggle, as his beloved ship swayed and danced at the edge of the maelstrom.
  
  "Lie!"
  
  "If I am to become an immortal, it will be by my own actions, and no one else's, Chrysaor."
  
  "Madness..."
  
  "Why? The Triumvirate Caesars and their wives have this ambition, why not imitate them? You serve them, and you don't try to use their ambition for your own purposes?"
  
  "I DO NOT SERVE THEM! I DO NOT SERVE ANYONE! I ONLY OBEY THE LAW OF THE WINDS AND THE SEAS! I AM THE TRUE KING OF PIRATES!"
  
  "No...that's one of the titles I'm about to take for myself."
  
  Chrysaor screamed in rage and attacked with all the ferocity he had in him, eager to kill this arrogant claimant.
  
  Clarisse was sure of two things.
  
  This battle was glorious.
  
  And the two Captains were truly ridiculous in their costumes.
  
  At least the daughter of Ares was certain Jackson had disguised himself as a pirate because he found it fun.
  
  The other Captain, with his mask of gold and his flashy golden armour, may not think he was disguised.
  
  Clarisse killed two more dolphin pirates before Jackson sent his enemy crashing on the deck below.
  
  Normally, this should have killed him, but the golden-masked moron was 'lucky' enough to fall upon one of his own crewmates...who didn't look so good after taking such a weight upon his head.
  
  "Son of Poseidon or not, I will drown you for that!"
  
  Clarisse eliminated one more enemy, and tried to go after this loudmouth...but more pirates revealed themselves, abandoning the gun deck below her feet to repel their counter-boarding.
  
  "Die, vile man!"
  
  But whereas Clarisse couldn't charge this enemy, one of the Huntresses had no such problem...since the daughter of Ares was busy distracting the dolphins, the enemy Captain had no bodyguard left save the one had wounded by his fall.
  
  The Huntress had a short blade, it was far longer than a dagger, but way too small to be considered a bastard sword.
  
  There was nothing wrong with her attack. It was fast, accurate, and went for the neck of the enemy.
  
  Reacting with a speed that was properly inhuman, the golden-masked pirate grabbed his sabre, parried the attack, and impaled the Huntress with his melee weapon.
  
  "JUDITH!"
  
  Clarisse killed one more dolphin, but she didn't try to rush in...there was nothing more she could do. The daughter of Ares could recognise a flawless strike when she was one. The Huntress had received a blade in her heart; no Demigod could survive that without immediate divine assistance.
  
  "The first kill of the day!" the golden bastard laughed while raising his sword. "Pirates! Kill them! Kill them for they dare standing between I and-"
  
  A blade slashed, and the sword arm was suddenly separated from its owner.
  
  "Damn you, son of Poseidon! Damn the-"
  
  Dozens of ropes moved like as many snakes, and one of them began to strangle the murderous pirate, while the others disarmed him and began to tow it to the base of the great mast.
  
  Clarisse impaled her last enemy, the dolphin going down in an explosion of gore.
  
  And suddenly, it was over.
  
  The deck was covered with the corpses of countless dolphin warriors, along with one Huntress. Two of her fellow man-haters ran to help her, but Clarisse could tell it was too late.
  
  The rain was...wait, the rain had stopped falling.
  
  And the waves...they were suddenly far smaller than they were a few seconds ago...
  
  "Jackson!"
  
  "Yes, the Maelstrom is losing its strength. It seems..." the son of Poseidon made a large grimace as he looked at the bloodbath they had made. "It seems the Titaness considers we have won this trial fair and square."
  
  25 November 2006, approaches of Hell's Reach, Sea of Monsters
  
  The good news was that this battle had been a relatively easy win.
  
  It was hard to rejoice, however, with a Huntress crying as she embraced the lifeless body of her friend and Chrysaor gloating like the corpses of all his dolphins' crewmate.
  
  "Jackson! Jackson, please..."
  
  Damn it, he was supposed to be a Tyrant and a villain, situations like that weren't for him...
  
  "I can't do anything," the son of Poseidon admitted soberly. "She passed away...and I have no power over the dead."
  
  And in the unlikely case he did have such a power, Perseus would not be crazy enough to do something like that. This was the kind of thing that Hades and his right hand Thanatos hated above all.
  
  But he wasn't going to say it aloud to a Huntress in mourning...the girl was already experiencing enough pain as it was.
  
  "Clarisse," the leader of the Suicide Squad murmured as the daughter of Ares came to stand by his side. "Would you mind preparing one of this ship's pinnaces?"
  
  "A funeral pyre?" The spear-wielding Demigoddess understood fast.
  
  "Yes. We can't stay here and the Inevitable Doom has no morgue." Arguably the last point was a major oversight on his part. "We will have to give her the funeral here and there, and depart before the Triumvirate fleet sends its squadrons here."
  
  "They will send squadrons here?"
  
  "A maelstrom and the sheer amount of power used in this battle were not exactly discreet." Perseus reminded her. "And the Egyptian Queen and her forces are not stupid. I haven't had the time to calculate how long we stayed in Hell, but I'm sure it has been more than the few minutes we experienced. If they don't see us trying to break through the Strait, they are going to reason logically and think we found another way to enter the Sea of Monsters. And they will be entirely correct."
  
  The Inevitable Doom went to position itself by the side of the heavily damaged Chrysaor's Legend, and numerous Huntresses jumped aboard.
  
  That much Perseus had expected.
  
  What he didn't expect - and he would truthfully admit it left him in shock - was the slap the Huntress-in-chief gave her crying subordinate.
  
  "Stop shaming us in front of the odious male, Jade!"
  
  "Judith is dead, Phoebe!"
  
  "There is no death, there is only the Goddess! Remember your oaths!"
  
  There was a second slap.
  
  And near-immediately, the blood-covered Huntress wasn't crying anymore.
  
  Of course, the expression of hatred she gave her nominal superior wasn't...well, maybe it was some progress, but he doubted this was something Artemis wanted.
  
  "Enough," the son of Poseidon caught the hand of Phoebe before she could strike the other Huntress again and the situation went out of control. "Jade, Clarisse is going to prepare a pinnace for the funeral pyre of your friend. Feel free to cut as many fins and heads of the Dolphins as you want in addition to plenty of Drachmas."
  
  "I want her murderer's head!" The grieving Huntress shouted...and Chrysaor suddenly stopped cackling.
  
  "You can't. If you do that, you will be cursed."
  
  "Indeed!" The son of Medusa laughed harder after his warning. "My existence is worth a thousand of your whore of a Goddess!"
  
  The more Chrysaor spoke, the more Perseus felt disgusted by his existence...now he had to use his voice to stop several furious Huntresses...
  
  "Phoebe and every Huntress save Jade, you are ordered to return to the Inevitable Doom immediately without killing anyone." It was one of these moments where he really wanted to sigh and show a tired expression. But he couldn't. Most of Artemis' servants would have interpreted it as a sign of weakness. "Ethan."
  
  "Yes, oh Lord of Craziness?"
  
  "It's Captain-Lord of Craziness for you," the former Tyrant answered jovially. "I have not had the time to inspect what my dear half-brother stashed in terms of loot under our feet. Please find out if there's something worth our time here."
  
  "I will check. If there are dolphins hiding-"
  
  "You kill them. Cursed by our dear Director D or not, they've made their choice."
  
  Ethan took Drew, Michael, and Miranda with him and disappeared in the entrails of the Chrysaor's Legend, and Perseus Jackson returned his attention to the son of Medusa...though most of it had remained on Chrysaor since the battle was over.
  
  His enemy was way too dangerous to not keep an eye on him at all times...one dead Huntress had paid it of her life because she didn't understand that.
  
  "Slavery, eh?"
  
  "This is one of the oldest professions in the world!" Truly his father had sired some real monsters over the last millennia...
  
  "It is also one of the least respectable," Perseus shook his head. "I won't ask you if your dolphin crewmates thought it was admirable, obviously they did."
  
  "We are pirates." And now he was speaking to him like he was a child. Yeah, Chrysaor was doing himself no favour here...
  
  "I'm more and more in the mood to change the definition of pirate then," then Perseus struck without warning...not that Chrysaor could do much to stop him. A second later, the golden mask was in his hands.
  
  And the face that was revealed-
  
  "BWHAHAHAHA!" He couldn't help it; he laughed. "BWHAHAHAHA! So this was what you wanted to hide!"
  
  "I order you to stop laughing!"
  
  If anything, this convinced Perseus to laugh harder and louder.
  
  Chrysaor...there was no way to say otherwise...Chrysaor was beautiful.
  
  His hair were cut a bit too short, and evidently the battle had made sure he was quite dirty, but his visage...well, from what Perseus could see, the divine lineage was there, the grey eyes and the-
  
  Wait a minute. Perseus knew those grey eyes...and the jaw and many other details...
  
  "Medusa is your mother."
  
  "Yes, thank you for repeating what everyone knows!" Chrysaor mocked him again.
  
  "And the Protector of Athens is your grandmother."
  
  The pirate was suddenly left speechless.
  
  "How do you...how did you..."
  
  "I've seen her appear under several appearances," Perseus said. "But the grey eyes are quite distinctive."
  
  But damn, Athena had not done things half-way. It wasn't just her High Priestess she had cursed for all eternity when she caught her fornicating with Poseidon...it was her daughter too.
  
  At least it explained why the Gorgon was so powerful. As a child of Athena, she must have been quite a threat, and since a lot of curses removed mortal weaknesses...yes, a very challenging enemy.
  
  "You understand why I keep my mask, then."
  
  KABOOM!
  
  "No, I don't." Perseus answered honestly, wondering what his saboteur penguin had found to justify this explosion. "Your face is your face. If you were disfigured and wanted to hide it, I would understand...but while you have some serious masculine charm, well..."
  
  His words weren't appreciated. At all. Chrysaor uttered a litany of impressive curses, some of them he had never heard before.
  
  And he had to invest a lot of strength to make sure the ropes and the other restraint didn't break.
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant?" the son of Nemesis was back, but Perseus kept his eyes and his power focused on his half-brother.
  
  "There's a magical vault in the Captain's cabin. Rico blew it up, and we found out it is filled with gold Drachmas. We didn't have exactly the time to count, but the private vault's capacity was magically expanded for a reason. My best guess is several million Drachmas, along with several priceless artefacts."
  
  "This is my treasure!" Chrysaor snarled, madness dancing in his grey eyes.
  
  "No, this is my loot." Perseus countered with a smile. "Excellent, my treacherous lieutenant! Transfer the vault to the Inevitable Doom, please. Anything else of note?"
  
  "As a matter of fact, yes." Ethan Nakamura grimaced. "We found plenty of chains and human corpses in the hull. The dolphins and their masters are truly monsters. On the good days, they are among the slavers of the Sea of Monsters. On the bad days...they tend to...to...oh curse it."
  
  Perseus could imagine what had happened on this ship for centuries, yes. And it was awful. Did it count as cannibalism if the pirates were transformed into dolphins? Yes, yes it did. As for the rest...no wonder the ship stank like carrion.
  
  "You are really a murderous bastard, Chrysaor."
  
  "I am the King of Pirates, son of Poseidon!" When he had been sired, clearly Poseidon and Medusa had not given him any sense of good and evil. "And remember your own words, you can't kill me."
  
  But the pirate really made it tempting...Perseus would gladly let the Huntresses of Artemis tear him apart, limb by limb, and listen to his screams.
  
  The problem was that the curse that would fall upon their Great Quest would make sure it was not worth it.
  
  Perseus sighed...and threw a Drachma overboard.
  
  "Iris, of Goddess of the Rainbow, please accept this humble offering."
  
  There was a slight breeze, a wave larger than the small ones which were now the norm as the Maelstrom had disappeared...and suddenly, the Queen of the Seas was there.
  
  "Perseus Jackson," Amphitrite had clearly not expected his call nor anyone else's, for today she had taken the appearance of a mermaid...if the mermaid was covered entirely in black scales, with a trident and a diadem the sole ornaments confirming that yes, she was the Queen of Atlantis, "and...Chrysaor."
  
  The moment she said his name was the moment Perseus knew one of the punishments he had mind for his pirate of half-brother was going to be approved. Still, there were forms to respect.
  
  "Yes, Lady Amphitrite. As you can see, I have captured him. Knowing the laws of Atlantis forbid fratricide, I made this call so I could ascertain what kind of punishment I could hand out."
  
  "This is outrageous!" Chrysaor shouted. "It is this worm that deserves to be punished! He dared-"
  
  The son of Medusa immediately screamed in pain...that was what happened when you had a sea urchin materialising in your mouth.
  
  "Fratricide is indeed forbidden...and before you interpret the laws of the seas creatively, no, no one is authorised to kill him without being targeted in return by the Lord of Atlantis' curse." It was something that, evidently, was not Amphitrite's idea. Maybe his father was sparing Chrysaor in memory of the Medusa he loved?
  
  "I was thinking about transforming him into a dolphin...a dolphin with one fin, of course." It was not going to be easy, but with Lou Ellen and Bianca to help him, it was doable.
  
  "No," Amphitrite said darkly. "He deserves far worse. I can taste the evil he did there. Chrysaor...you were cruel before, but clearly you have gone too far. Perseus Jackson. Your followers and yourself are to return to your ship. You have done well to bring him to my attention. I am going to deal with this problem myself."
  
  Okay...he wasn't going to argue with a Goddess whose anger had been roused. Clearly, the crimes of today had not come out of nowhere, and the Goddess had already some heavy grudge against the son of Medusa...a grudge which was far more important than her husband fornicating with a daughter of Athena.
  
  Everyone promptly evacuated the damaged Chrysaor's Legend by the improvised boardwalk Leo had created to link the two ships, and once pinnaces, loot, a lifeless body of a Huntress and everything of importance were safely aboard, the improvised bridge was withdrawn too.
  
  "Take us away," he ordered after he was sure everyone was aboard, dead or alive. "I don't think we want to-"
  
  "Did you really believe you fooled me? I know you were involved in her disappearance! Now you are going to pay!"
  
  "Jackson, what is she-"
  
  The Chrysaor's Legend...the ship seemed suddenly...darker. The sails had not been white so far, but suddenly, they were a dark grey, which became closer to black every second. The wooden hull was covering itself with seashells and algae, but everything was black and ugly.
  
  Various crustaceans were emerging from the sea, but all of them were dark and...twisted.
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad grabbed his spyglass and pointed it in direction of the great mast. He blinked in surprise.
  
  Chrysaor's severed arm had been replaced by...was it the mutated pincer of a crab?
  
  One part of his right leg was missing too, and unless he was really wrong, Amphitrite had severed it herself...and now something scaly was growing from the stump. Something that couldn't be called a 'leg'.
  
  But the most terrifying punishment was the face.
  
  Poseidon's wife had cursed him so that his divine-blessed visage was merging with a golden octopi. Having held the golden mask of Chrysaor in his hands, the insult couldn't be more obvious.
  
  "Every entrance of the Sea of Monsters need a guardian," Amphitrite's voice resonated everywhere at once, "and though this one was not created by mortal hands, it will not be the exception to the rule! Chrysaor! As punishment for your crimes, you will be the ferryman of Hell's Reach until I decide you have suffered enough for your countless crimes. And if you do not repent, you will stay there for all eternity."
  
  The Sea of Monsters began to drag the Chrysaor's Legend towards the dark arch leading to the Underworld...and before the three-masted warship disappeared, everyone could clearly hear the screams of its Captain pleading for a salvation that would never come.
  
  There were a lot of bubbles near the Inevitable Doom for a few minutes...and then the Sea of Monsters returned to its falsely idyllic weather.
  
  "Jackson?" the Emperor Penguin asked.
  
  "Yes, my penguin lieutenant?"
  
  "Your stepmother is hellishly scary."
  
  This was...incredibly accurate.
  
  "Yes," the son of Poseidon agreed, "yes, she is."
  
  26 November 2006, the Sea of Monsters
  
  "Did you know your stepmother was going to do that?" Lou Ellen asked.
  
  "Why is everyone calling her my stepmother suddenly?" The son of Poseidon answered her question by another question...and with a pout on his face.
  
  "Well, you seem to be on good terms with her."
  
  "We had several Iris-blessed exchanges...but counting this one, it should be...seven?"
  
  "So few?" the daughter of Hecate was honestly surprised. "I thought it was far more than that."
  
  "No. Unlike my divine half-sister, I've not met her in person, and the messages and communications have been very professional."
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone chuckled.
  
  "The great leader of the Suicide Squad is incredibly respectful with the Goddess of the Seas when he is throwing bad jokes with the rest of the Pantheon. Will wonders never cease?"
  
  This was sufficient to make Perseus pout again.
  
  "I will remind you, my dear sorceress lieutenant, that unlike many Gods, my 'stepmother', as you called her, is capable of negating entirely my Hydrokinesis if she so wishes. And while she is less powerful than a true Titaness, she could make my life a true tragedy if I decide to live anywhere near a large quantity of water."
  
  "Ah...a good point," she admitted.
  
  For several minutes, they watched the pyre-pinnace burn in the distance. With what Amphitrite had done to Chrysaor, everyone had supported the idea of placing as much distance as they could between the 'Hell's Reach entrance' and the Inevitable Doom. Now that over twenty hours had passed, they had stopped to give Judith the Huntress a true funeral ceremony.
  
  Lou Ellen didn't like funerals. Her father had died when she was young, and since then, she held them in horror. But this one was admittedly worse. The blonde-haired sorceress wasn't going to say she had liked Judith. She didn't know her. The Huntresses had done their best to stay as far as possible from the rest of the Suicide Squad while they sailed for the Sea of Monsters; good luck trying to establish a relationship with someone in these conditions.
  
  Despite that, it was clear most of the non-Huntresses Questers cared more about Judith's death than her fellow Huntresses did - Jade was the sole exception to this rule.
  
  To say it raised disturbing questions about what the Hunt had become across the millennia was a minor understatement.
  
  "There were already legends of cursed ships doomed to sail on tormented seas for all eternity," Perseus sighed, proving at this instant he couldn't read thoughts. "I think some of them are going to return in strength outside of this Zone Mortalis. What?"
  
  "Oh...nothing. To be honest, I had already dismissed your slaver of half-brother from my mind. I was more concerned about the...emotions of the Huntresses. Or rather, the dreadful lack of emotions they showed when one of their own perished."
  
  "They have emotions, they just try to not show them to us."
  
  "You give them far more credit than I or Judith's friend does."
  
  Perseus Jackson grimaced.
  
  "While I will admit calling them a lesbian cult or a variation of it was a provocation...the reality is that the Huntresses are a Cult. They are the Cult of the Goddess of the Hunt and Virginity. They live in isolation of the rest of the 'Demigod society' which exists at New Byzantium. They spend most of their daily activities hunting monsters or obeying the orders of their Goddess. I have no evidence to advance it, but I seriously think their last contact with a representative of the male sex is a tragedy of some sort that convinces them to join the Hunt. Therefore the next time they will see a boy or a man, be it a Demigod or not, they will have been encouraged for years to see him as an enemy."
  
  The Captain of the Inevitable Doom didn't say anything about cult teaching and brainwashing to teach young girls that males were the enemy, but he didn't need to.
  
  "In many ways," Perseus smiled, a welcome sight for once, "it would have been better if they were the lesbian cult I accused them to be. At least they would truly have love relationships in their ranks. But their Goddess is also the Eternal Virgin. Thus love relationships between two Huntresses have little chance to happen, and when they do, it always ends in tragedy."
  
  "Yet Jade and Judith seemed to have a deep friendship."
  
  "They are very recent recruits," Perseus shook his head. "Jade let it slip they were recruited in the mid-nineties. I think the group leader thought that whatever tragedy befell them before their recruitment was more important when it came to hatred of man than their friendship by itself."
  
  "Ah." Lou Ellen had momentarily nothing else to reply.
  
  The pyre and the mortal remains of the Huntress progressively vanished as the wind pushed away the pinnace in flames, before it sank for good in the Sea of Monsters. By now, Judith must have begun her journey towards the realm of Hades. One could only hope the Lord of the Underworld would be merciful when it was time to appoint her Judges.
  
  "Yes, ah," Perseus turned back and began to march towards the war room. "Let's return to our Great Quest. We must increase speed once more, I really don't like this storm front behind us."
  
  "The Titaness' new trial?"
  
  "I dearly hope not...but I can't confirm or deny it."
  
  2 December 2006, Sea of Monsters
  
  "And here I thought the Labyrinth was the worst Zone Mortalis we Demigods could be sent." Ethan wasn't grumbling. He was a son of Nemesis, and grumbling was above him. He was just...asking for an explanation.
  
  "I certainly said no such thing." The crazy Captain of the Inevitable Doom immediately answered with a large grin. "Who could have given you such an incomplete perspective?"
  
  "Who indeed..." Ethan had the urge to strangle a certain son of Poseidon, but not only he doubted his strength was sufficient to achieve it - Chrysaor had clearly shown how outclassed they were when sons of Poseidon clashed - it would likely provide great amusement to Perseus Jackson. "At least this storm is over. Are you really sure we haven't been cursed? The countless sea monster attacks were taken for granted from the start. The storms, however, were not."
  
  "It's true the weather has been a bit...stormy."
  
  'A bit', he said. They had survived an average of three massive storms a day. And these were not small storms. They had not encountered additional maelstroms in the way, but the elements raging against them had included plenty of lightning and skyscraper-high waves.
  
  "If your instruments are right, Captain, it is going to be getting incredibly difficult to find where the Triumvirate is hiding before the Winter Solstice."
  
  "It is going to be impossible, you mean, my treacherous lieutenant." Perseus smirked. "But don't say it to the others. The Huntresses may take it as treacherous defeatism."
  
  "Err...sure, but it means the utter failure of the Great Quest."
  
  "It would...if the Triumvirate has something ready for this Winter Solstice. I am increasingly certain they don't. My best guess is that the capture of the two Gods was done because they could, not because they were ready."
  
  This made sense...of course, if he was wrong, Zeus' wrath would be...murderous.
  
  "Let's hope you are right," the son of Nemesis looked in all direction and didn't see much. So far, the weather had been alternating between massive storms and a perfect blue sky that could cook you if you didn't use high-quality solar cream.
  
  This morning apparently had a novelty...fog.
  
  "But even if you are right, I suppose the preparations for the divine usurpation Olympus fears are ongoing...they must have been ongoing for months, in fact."
  
  "Quite right, my treacherous lieutenant. In my humble opinion, the ritual is so important it must take place on a very special date, where the sun is on the ascendant."
  
  "Our Lightning Thief didn't do that."
  
  "Well, of course not. She was trying to be the Goddess of Hell. From her point of view, the Winter Solstice was indeed the right time for her ascension. But the Triumvirate duo we are concerned about does not desire to have dominion over the dead. They want to be Gods of the living. Thus the spring equinox and the summer solstices are the best dates for them."
  
  The wind Ethan felt touching his skin was abnormally cold suddenly, and he shivered unconsciously.
  
  "Assuming you are right...this would give us a few months. Of course, the Sea of Monsters is huge, so even a few months are no victory guarantee."
  
  "And this is why we need a permanent base in the Sea of Monsters. The Triumvirate must have at least one, the Suicide Squad can't endure if we have not something to repair our ship and recover after each major battle."
  
  "We endured the assault of the golden-masked bastard pretty well." They had lost one Huntress, but in Ethan's opinion, this wasn't a great loss...and the Inevitable Doom had emerged without a scratch from the maelstrom and the naval battle.
  
  "I said a major battle. Skirmishes with a single enemy ship don't count."
  
  "Oh. Jackson...isn't it getting a bit cold?"
  
  It was far from freezing, but given that all Demigods were in T-Shirt and other summer clothes, with a tendency for things that could handle rain well and dry very quickly, it was rapidly getting unpleasant.
  
  "It is. This means we must be close to the island I calculated the course of."
  
  "And what is this-"
  
  The fog vanished like one had pressed a button, and Ethan saw.
  
  It was a huge island.
  
  It wasn't welcoming at all.
  
  There were some beaches of dark sand, but most of the locations where the island and the Sea of Monsters fought for dominance were clearly tall and dark cliffs.
  
  This place had clearly a volcanic origin.
  
  And past the cliffs, it was covered in snow and ice.
  
  Yes, no wonder it was getting colder.
  
  "Unpack the warm clothes!" The son of Nemesis drawled, and blinked as one Huntress of Artemis passed next to him covered in the fur of what had been at some point a bear-like monster. "Or the furs, if you have them!" He finished.
  
  Jackson, naturally, returned to his favourite activity: grinning.
  
  "Stop that, please."
  
  "Stop what, my treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "Stop...you really don't intend to stop, so why I am wasting my saliva?" Ethan Nakamura sighed. "Why did we try to reach that island, oh dear Crazy Captain? The reason better not be a desire to ski or practise other winter sports."
  
  "I would not dare," Perseus said so virtuously that it was necessarily a lie. "Look better, my treacherous lieutenant. There is a lot of snow, yes. But look attentively. There are details you might have missed."
  
  Ethan gave him an expression of doubt, before giving the island his full attention...and after several seconds, deep towards the large mountain which had to be the heart of this frigid location, there were indeed structures that could not have been shaped by the fury of the elements.
  
  "I see two...they have to be pipes, or some sort of cooling system," the son of Nemesis acknowledged. "The object barely emerging from the ice on the eastern slope has to be a sort of high furnace."
  
  Given what Jackson had revealed him a few minutes ago, it didn't take a genius to arrive to the logical conclusion.
  
  "You want this island to be our headquarters inside the Zone Mortalis?" He asked as Luke threw him his large and warm black coat.
  
  "I do."
  
  This sounded like a horrible idea...which knowing Jackson, was probably a good reason to di it anyway.
  
  "And does this island have a name?"
  
  "If it has one," Perseus said cheerfully, "it has been lost to time. And since we are the first to rediscover it...I want to propose a name that will be remembered for centuries."
  
  "If the name is Perseus' Legend, the Huntresses will kill you, and I will hide the corpse." Ethan threatened as more and more Demigods left the interior of the watch to see the destination their leader had led them to.
  
  "I would never dare." The son of the Earthshaker crossed his arms. "I am not my doomed half-brother playing the ferryman, thank you very much. No, the name will be truly remembered, for it will describe nothing but the truth. It will be...the Forge of All Perils!"
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Author's note:
  
  Some Demigods of New Byzantium/Constantinople gambled that the Suicide Squad would not survive their entrance in the Sea of Monsters. Once they will be informed of these events, they will learn their first important lesson: don't bet against Perseus Jackson and the Suicide Squad. Ever.
  
  There are far less risky manners to lose your money...
  
  Of course, ultimate success is still very far away for the participants of this Great Quest.
  
  Evading the vigilance of various enemies to enter the Sea of Monsters...it was the easy part of this Great Quest.
  
  The difficult parts - and the major battles - begin next chapter.
  
  Oh, and of course:
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen:
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Like I hinted previously, not every member of the Suicide Squad will survive this Great Quest.
  
  Other links if you like the Suicide Squad:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Cold like Death
  Chapter 18
  
  Cold like Death
  
  We were not ready.
  
  The opening of Hell's Reach and the battle against Chrysaor in the outskirts of a bloody maelstrom should have let us realise this.
  
  But we didn't really acknowledge it. We believed that if we followed Jackson and didn't make any mistakes, everything would be fine in the end.
  
  After all, during the Great Quest to return the Master Bolt, the only Demigod who died was Scipio Varus, and he was an assassin everyone was relieved to see perish.
  
  But the Sea of Monsters was not the Labyrinth.
  
  The opposition was way stronger than during our First Quest.
  
  And the death of one Huntress should have been all the warning we needed to admit all mistakes would be paid in blood and death.
  
  Jackson really did try to warn us.
  
  The best of us listened with one ear, at most.
  
  This proved problematic, because we had tried to ignore one more piece of information: Perseus Jackson was - and still is - not omniscient. As our mad leader had told us, while he was the son of Poseidon, he had never visited the Sea of Monsters.
  
  The Forge of All Perils was going to be our first reminder that if we didn't begin to take the Great Quest seriously, we were all going to die in mere days.
  
  Extract from the Chapter 2 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2 by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena.
  
  2 December 2006, approaches of the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  This time, the Huntresses tried to stay away as far as they could from the aquarium.
  
  And no, no one sane was going to pretend it was a coincidence.
  
  Luke was wondering if the man-hating servants of Artemis had learned their lesson when their mad leader entered.
  
  It was at this moment that the centre of the war room they had all gathered into opened, revealing a curious device which instantly created an incredibly realistic representation of the mountain-island the Inevitable Doom was waiting near.
  
  "The Forge of All Perils, Demigoddesses and Demigods!" Obviously, Perseus Jackson strolled in his...what would you call it, seriously? A pirate uniform to kill all pirate uniforms? There was a lot of orange, a large coat with many golden decorations, and a ridiculously huge pirate tricorn. "And if my plan succeeds, our new base of operations."
  
  If the intention was to impress the Huntresses, then clearly it failed.
  
  "This island is covered in ice and snow," Phoebe, daughter of Eris, countered in a belligerent tone. "Whatever metallic forges exist under the frost matters very little. You don't have the power to vanish this, son of the Sea God or not!"
  
  For once, the leader of the Suicide Squad nodded and didn't mock the words of Artemis' officer.
  
  "Indeed. I freely admit this amount of ice and snow is a bit beyond me." And then the grin was back. "Fortunately, it just so happens that the Forge is a marvel of volcanic engineering, and the former owner used ingenious systems to pump into the caldera hundreds of kilometres beneath the sea floor. Open the magma valves, pump the lava into the conduits, and let the furnaces growl with the power of fire and molten metal; I can assure you that in a matter of hours, the ice and the snow will only be a souvenir."
  
  As Jackson spoke, the three-dimensional representation of the mountain-forged was separating several sections to show the interior of the frozen volcano, and Luke was not afraid to acknowledge the structures it presented were really beyond everything New Byzantium had.
  
  This was really a God-level Forge, with enormous pipes able to handle colossal flows of magma, and then extract the priceless ore from it, before transforming it into hundreds of thousands of weapons, and maybe more.
  
  Why by the Gods-
  
  "This can't be that simple," Ethan Nakamura said before he could. The son of Nemesis crossed his arms and presented an expression of absolute calm...which didn't fool Luke or anyone having been involved in the previous Great Quest.
  
  "Speak everything you have on your heart, my treacherous lieutenant!"
  
  "It can't be that simple." The black-haired son of Nemesis repeated. "The God of the Forges and Fires was captured inside one of his own industrial redoubts because his production lines are incredibly valuable for the Council and everyone associated with Olympus. The Triumvirate had help; but they had to fight two Gods and incredibly strong defences to claim the metallic bounty of Forge MP-42. And they may be traitors, but they aren't completely stupid. If such an important Forge can be reactivated so easily, they would have done it in a hurry, no matter the cost in Drachmas...or Denarii, I suppose."
  
  The green-eyed Demigod slowly clapped his hands.
  
  "It is an astute reasoning, my treacherous lieutenant. Yes, there is a little something to do before taking possession of the Forge of All Perils."
  
  "And what is this 'little something'? One Huntress hissed aggressively.
  
  "Well, killing the squatter, of course." The pirate-clothed Demigod shrugged as if it was normal. "I note you didn't ask why there was so much ice and snow in a Zone Mortalis known for its tropical weather and temperatures. So let me answer it before you open your mouth: yes, the squatter is creating this aura of frost and cold to make himself comfortable."
  
  Luke had met several enormous monsters in his life of Demigod. One of them was guarding the Golden Apples of the Hesperides, and was sufficiently big to crush several skyscrapers without really trying if unleashed inside a city.
  
  But changing the weather was a really, really impressive feat...and it promised nothing good. In fact, it was really understating the size of the problem.
  
  "Jackson," the thief heard himself asking. "What is hiding inside this Forge?"
  
  "Fimbulvetr."
  
  The word meant nothing to Luke, but it seemed to make the world a little darker when uttered. And by the way Annabeth gasped, it meant something really bad.
  
  "This is the term the Norse gave the three years-long winter which would herald the coming of Ragnarok," the daughter of Athena revealed.
  
  "Yes." Perseus nodded as if it was no big deal. "But the Norse warriors were quite mistaken. In a not-so-rare mixing of the Pantheons for the time-"
  
  The Lieutenant of Artemis hissed angrily.
  
  "Oh, come on!" The son of Poseidon rolled his green eyes. "I am not revealing enormous secrets here!"
  
  "You will not speak of things that must be kept secret," Phoebe declared with loathing filling her voice, and though Jackson was a madman...he evidently wasn't going to challenge her on that front.
  
  "Fine. To keep it simple, the Norse warriors mistook the forest for the trees. It must not have helped that those who went to see the phenomenon closer died in violent demises without returning. They believed it was a winter phenomenon when in reality it was a monster."
  
  "And what type of monster are we speaking about?" For once, they had the full attention of Clarisse...that was saying quite something.
  
  The answer of Perseus Jackson was blunt and to the point.
  
  "A Drakon." The son of Poseidon spoke. "Or if you want to be the long and fully accurate version, the 'Ancestral Drakon of Ice and Frost'."
  
  For several seconds, everyone tried to digest the news. Ultimately, it was the son of Hercules who shrugged first.
  
  "Okay, that is a very big lizard," Richard Grant reacted with his usual arrogance. "Drakons, Dragons, once you stab them in the eyes, there are not that many differences..."
  
  "I have to disagree, respectfully," the smile was thin, and the eyes of the son of Poseidon were very calculating. "A Dragon would be a nightmare to kill here, due to its mobility. With the speed and the aerial dominance it gives them, Dragons can pretty much dictate the pace of the battle, and we would have to disperse all forces inside and outside the island. Furthermore, if a dragon abandoned the Forge temporarily and decided to return later when we would be distracted, there is not much we could do to pursue the flying reptile."
  
  "That much is true," Bianca di Angelo, clad in a new robe with black fur, admitted with ill-grace. "But I saw several undead Drakons in my father's domain. You forgot to add that what they lack in mobility compared to the Dragons, the Drakons compensate it with raw power. They can't fly and as a result, they are armoured juggernauts. I've never heard of an Ancestral Drakon, but the climate-altering skills the monster possesses clearly hint it is way more dangerous than the 'average' Drakon."
  
  Perseus Jackson...shrugged.
  
  "As my treacherous lieutenant so justly remarked, if everyone could do it, this Forge would be creating a Legion's worth of weapons for the Triumvirate as we speak." The pirate hat was placed upon Leo Valdez's head, who yelped in surprise. "For the record, this is a titanic monster. I have not his exact size, since he stayed sleeping here for a long time, but I have acquired enough lore to confirm his breath is a maelstrom of ice and cold magic that will kill unprepared Questers within seconds by transforming them into blocks of ice. The name, which is best to not repeat too much, means 'mighty winter' in Old Norse. Assuming you avoid the ice breath, the main body of the Drakon radiates cold to such a degree that death can claim you within minutes. Moreover, it generates a lot of ice every minute, so the battlefield continuously changes in its favour."
  
  "And you want us to fight that monster?" Luke didn't know who had spoken among the Huntresses, not that it really as important, given how livid they were. "You are completely mad."
  
  Naturally, this assertion was greeted with the disrespect it deserved.
  
  "No, dear Huntress."
  
  Was Jackson going to be reasonable? Nah, that was a stupid question.
  
  "I am going to fight the Ancestral Drakon."
  
  The Minotaur, who had done his best to stay out of his view - clearly a feat given how huge he was - snorted very loudly.
  
  "Sorry, Asterius. Let me amend my words. Asterius and I are going to fight the Ancestral Drakon. We have prepared for this; this is our trial, the cornerstone of our plan for the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "Madness," Phoebe snapped angrily. "Without Lady Artemis or someone approaching her hunting talent, you stand no chance."
  
  "Madness, you say?" Perseus bared his teeth, and just like this, the madman was truly back in his full glory. "This whole Quest is madness. We have journeyed through Hell, and even this was only barely sufficient to give us a few days of advance on our pursuers. The vanguard squadrons of the Triumvirate fleet can't be more than a week away of cruise from this island, no matter how much I surprised them by sailing towards the Forge of All Perils. We need a game-changer, or we are going to be exactly in a position our Roman predecessors were: hunted across the Zone Mortalis, desperately short of ammunition, and prey to far more dangerous opponents than this Drakon will ever be."
  
  "Our goal is not to slay that Drakon," the Chief Huntress replied stubbornly.
  
  "A mere glance of the Sea Titaness in our direction was enough to create a maelstrom," the leader of the Suicide Squad reminded her bluntly, "if you decide to sail for the island where she keeps Amigo's father prisoner, by all means. I will just warn you there are ways far less painful to commit suicide."
  
  "So you say."
  
  The more Luke thought about it, the more impressed the son of Hermes was that Perseus hadn't fed the Huntresses to various monsters the moment they entered the Sea of Monsters.
  
  "So I say," the black-haired madman declared amicably, "now that it is said, let's go to the specifics. Asterius and I will be part of the Drakon-hunting team. We will accept volunteers, of course."
  
  "And why we would be so stupid as to volunteer?" Ethan asked.
  
  "Because, my treacherous lieutenant, there is one point Drakons and Dragons have in common: they love to gather a hoard of priceless treasures."
  
  Luke at this moment knew he wasn't going to volunteer. If Jackson tried to tempt someone with the rumour of untold riches, it was that the fight was going to be hellishly difficult.
  
  "Unfortunately, it is far too late to land ashore today, and the storm exhausted us. Let's go to this sleep, tomorrow I will explain you my glorious strategy."
  
  Yes, it was right to not be reassured at all...
  
  3 December 2006, approaches of the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  With the sheer amount of fog around the Inevitable Doom, there wouldn't have been any hope to see the dawn, but Bianca knew nonetheless Jackson had woken them at an ungodly hour.
  
  But since for the first time the son of Poseidon was willing to reveal his plans, the protests were few and far between.
  
  "As you can clearly see," Perseus told them with the sort of intent gaze he almost never used, "the two main entrances of the Forge of All Perils are the 'Indomitable Gates' and the 'Sea Gates'. They are extremely fortified. The metal is an alloy which combines Adamantine and Celestial Bronze. And the Drakon was vigilant enough to close them behind him before burying them under several layers of ice. To be blunt, we might be able to break through, but at the cost of most of our ammunition stocks."
  
  "And if we dig a tunnel of our own?" Leo Valdez asked, as dishevelled and dirty as ever.
  
  "The Drakon will hear us coming that way and prepare a few nasty surprises." The leader of the Suicide Squad barely raised an eyebrow, having clearly anticipated a question like that.
  
  "That...that doesn't leave a lot of options."
  
  "In fact, it leaves only one." A red line appeared on the representation of the mountain. It began on the beach or whatever this island had on the shore...and it went several hundreds of metres above sea level, high on the dormant volcano's slope. "The high furnaces of the Forge are not blocked; I have been able to verify that yesterday via drone reconnaissance."
  
  "This is mountaineering." Ethan Nakamura remarked. "I hope you brought the adequate equipment, otherwise this climb is going to be perilous for you...and your friend the Minotaur."
  
  "It is, and I have." More evidence the Tyrant had clearly prepared this affair for days before they sailed from New Byzantium.
  
  "And then what happens? Your party rushes to challenge the dragon?"
  
  "Yes, and no. We will raise as much ruckus as we can. Part of my plan includes another party. Several Demigods must reach the control room and open the magma valves."
  
  "Danger?"
  
  "Minimal," Perseus answered. "My strike force will, as I said before, raise hell to attract every sentinel and patrol the Drakon might have left behind. Still, it is best to be careful. I have chosen my heroic lieutenant Castellan for his gate-opening skills, the daughter of Her Owlishness to push the right levers, and Amigo of the Forge to make sure no block of ice impedes your progression. My drunken lieutenant will play the bodyguard, of course."
  
  "Wait a minute!" Dakota protested. "You told us you were only accepting volunteers!"
  
  "Yes, volunteers for the Drakon fight," the mad grin made its first appearance of the day. "Opening the magma valves is a perfectly ordinary mission. As such, the presence of everyone I just mentioned is mandatory. I thank you for you 'volunteering', my dear drunken lieutenant."
  
  The son of Bacchus muttered something extremely rude under his breath.
  
  "Alexia. Kimiko. You will go with them." The Huntress-in-chief immediately ordered.
  
  Everyone in the war room waited to see if there were more 'volunteers' coming, but no one opened their mouth.
  
  The images of the 'mountaineering expedition' may have something to do with it. The Demigods who had just been commanded to open the magma valves were not going to fight the monstrous Drakon, but reaching the high furnaces on the slopes of the volcano promised to be an adventure by itself, and that was assuming there was no enemy opposition...which was extremely unlikely.
  
  "We need a blocking force." Perseus Jackson continued. "It is extremely unlikely the Drakon will try to flee when Asterius and I confront him. But the longer the battle rages and the worse the victory chances of our opponent, the higher the chances the Lord of Frost will think it is best to make a tactical withdrawal. This is why my dear sorceresses have volunteered for this duty."
  
  Bianca glared at the son of Poseidon. She certainly didn't remember volunteering for that, but protesting would not change the mind of the other Demigod.
  
  "I will need several frontline warriors, of course. My treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "I will be their shield," the son of Nemesis grumbled.
  
  "I will be with him." Clarisse La Ruse immediately followed. "Mountaineering is not for the children of Ares. But if the Drakon shows its ugly head through the gates, it will regret it for the last seconds it will have to live!"
  
  "Me too!" The penguin joyfully proclaimed.
  
  "No. The two penguins are with me."
  
  "Hey! What happened to 'volunteers only'?"
  
  "They don't apply to penguins' duo and comic reliefs. You are both."
  
  By that point, Perseus Jackson should have begun by 'I will do what I want when I want', and it would have been more honest...
  
  At least it urged a lot of Demigods to declare for the 'Blocking Force' mission. In addition to Lou Ellen and Bianca plus their two 'bodyguards', Michael Yew, Miranda Gardiner, Drew Tanaka, Antigone Barbara and Nick Coleman 'volunteered' their arms and weapons for this duty.
  
  And of course, there were the Huntresses...
  
  "Ellen and Jena, you will go with them."
  
  "And that leaves the Drakon-slaying mission, I suppose?" Richard Grant's arrogant voice annoyed her ears. "I will be with you. I slew a Dragon before, I want to be here when this Drakon will die."
  
  "So will I," Bella Medina, the daughter of Scotus, intervened.
  
  "You spoke of great treasures," Fergus Cook showed a carnivorous smile. "I love treasures."
  
  "Revenge begins here." Douglas Smith, son of Volturnus, said soberly.
  
  "We don't have a choice, do we?" the larger penguin said in a tone reeking of lamentation and despair. "We are so going to die..."
  
  "Shut up, cursed male." The Huntress-in-chief was prompt to remind him of his place. "I will be part of this mission. Kalinda, Eudoxia, and Jade will be part of this Hunt."
  
  "As you wish."
  
  The fact the son of Poseidon accepted so easily confirmed what Bianca had had little doubts about: Perseus Jackson was going to eliminate Phoebe and some of her fellow man-hater Huntresses. The daughter of Hades was ready to eat one of her spell books if she was wrong.
  
  "Now that the volunteers of the Drakon-slaying mission have made themselves known..." a penguin loudly scoffed in the background. "I am going to issue a few massive warnings."
  
  "We know the fight is going to be perilous, Jackson." Mr. Muscle aka Richard Grant was prompt to remind them why he was a contender for Arrogant Champion of the Century.
  
  "This is not about this, my dear muscular lieutenant. This is about the loot." And a second later, the son of Hercules caught in mid-air...it looked like...a can of paint?
  
  "Seriously...spray-paint can?"
  
  "Yes, spray-paint can." Perseus affirmed. "I couldn't verify beforehand, but given how Drakon and Dragons are similar, it is incredibly likely all artefacts, gold, and the valuable relics inside the Forge of All Perils are considerably cursed. Once the Drakon will be no more, cancelling the curses will be an arduous but feasible task. So you will claim the loot beforehand with this permanent paint. We will all have one colour for each member of our strike force. Mine is orange, if one is wondering-"
  
  "Don't care," Richard Grant replied. "As long as you respect your oaths."
  
  "I will."
  
  "And if we want to take our just rewards beforehand?" Fergus Cook asked, with a tone that told Bianca that this particular Demigod was going to try to disobey at some point.
  
  "It's your funeral." Perseus replied just as bluntly before watching most of the Suicide Squad for long seconds. "I will remind everyone that for all my Hydrokinesis and my resources, I am just a mortal. The draconic curses are legendary for their viciousness and their power. The drakonic curses have a good chance of being worse. If you're cursed because you did something I warned you against, don't complain after the disaster."
  
  "We will take it under due consideration."
  
  Asterius the Minotaur grunted. Yeah, even the bull-headed being had noticed there were going to be problems...
  
  "And we hope your plan is worth these warnings." If you were ready to gamble it was a Huntress who was speaking, you would be absolutely right...
  
  "I won't lie," the son of Poseidon immediately countered. "My plan is extremely good, but this is an Ancestral Drakon we are speaking about. We must kill it before the magma heat convinces it to think the island is way too warm for a cold reptile of its size. We must also...err...vigorously convince it that destroying the Forge isn't something it can do before we slay it."
  
  "Details?"
  
  "No, that would spoil the surprise!" At least there were things that never changed...
  
  Bianca rolled her eyes.
  
  "Anything else that must be considered before we go to our cabins and equip ourselves for our duties?"
  
  "Yes." The green-eyed Demigod took a deep breath, and the former Dread Empress knew that whatever he was about to say, many people were not going to like it. "I leave to the discretion of the Blocking Force if they want to, but for the Magma and Drakon-hunting missions, I urge you to wear the X-Suit I sent to all of your cabins a few minutes ago."
  
  "And what is...a X-Suit?"
  
  Jackson showed them one. Bianca blinked...then she felt herself blushing. From what she saw, it looked like an integral suit of white latex...
  
  "What perversion is this? You want us to be clad in this...this...odious-"
  
  Perseus Jackson sighed. Loudly.
  
  "Before anyone asks me, this is MY X-Suit. Yes, I'm aware it is revealing, tight, extremely revealing...and you can barely wear your underwear underneath it. There was no orange model available either." The son of Poseidon grimaced. "But it is the only kind of suit I was able to obtain that can protect us from the frost breath of the Drakon."
  
  "I don't believe you," Phoebe said flatly. "None of my Huntresses will participate in this...perversion."
  
  "The Enemy," and you could hear the capital 'E' from his voice, "is infamous for an attack that is best described as 'magical ice ray with a temperature of absolute zero'. Even entering the Forge of All Perils, given how imbued it is with the monster's power, is a risk of enduring nasty frostbites. The X-Suit offers high-quality protection against hellishly cold temperatures and ice-based threats, be they magical or not, while allowing a Demigod or a Demigoddess to have a high mobility in one of the most dangerous environments-"
  
  "No. And your perversion will be reported to Lady Artemis."
  
  Perseus shrugged and abandoned the subject. Yet given how he looked at the Huntresses, Bianca was certain the warning was genuine. Mad he may be, but the son of Poseidon had genuinely warned everyone.
  
  Sigh. That meant Bianca was going to have to wear this...this X-Suit. It was unlikely the Blocking Force would need to confront the Drakon, but if they did...the daughter of Hades had no wish to return to Hell today. But it was really too much to hope there wouldn't be compromising photos taken...
  
  "Yes, yes. Any questions?"
  
  "Yes, I have one." Dakota cleared his throat. "What are all those black dots that have just materialised on your island's map? You know, the one that are near the beach we're supposed to use for our landing purposes?"
  
  "Oh that?" Perseus grinned. "Don't worry, it's just the welcoming committee."
  
  "The what?"
  
  "The welcoming committee!" The grin of madness and mayhem was back. "A small battalion of frosty skeletons that must have been animated specifically to greet us on this nice morning of winter!"
  
  "This is not funny!" A Huntress barked.
  
  "This is your opinion. Personally, I call them 'my warm up'..."
  
  3 December 2006, the black beach of the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  KABOOM!
  
  "And now Asterius, our special move! SEA BULLHORN!"
  
  Said like that, it might be quite ridiculous.
  
  But while a penguin slamming a detonator might seem funny, the explosion which shook the beach of black sand was quite the real deal.
  
  Over thirty skeletons were blasted apart, a rain of bone bits falling upon certain rocks hundreds of metres away.
  
  And then Asterius the Minotaur 'surfed' on a gigantic wave and slammed into the surviving skeletons.
  
  Pirates sabres were broken; a tattered black flag fell from its pole. The blue magic in the skeletons' eyes died out.
  
  When the wave receded, there were no undead warriors left standing.
  
  KABOOM!
  
  "Rico, stop the explosions!" Perseus ordered. "Or you will be in charge of the demining operations for days to come."
  
  The smaller penguin of the duo emitted a sound of disappointment...someone was getting way too enthusiastic with his 'duties'.
  
  Lou Ellen watched attentively the sky and what parts of the island were visible now that her magic had blown away the morning fog. And she found no trace of any enemy. That didn't mean there were none alas, just that they were wise enough to hide now that the 'skeleton battalion' had perished.
  
  Without waiting for a command, the daughter of Hecate began to gather the axes, sabres, daggers, flintlocks, muskets and all other weapons with a telekinetic spell. She didn't even need to be reminded of Perseus' warning to know these weapons were massively cursed. Many of them had the colour of the frost, and those which did not were giving her a vibe of 'very bad, touch at your own peril'.
  
  "Let's hope you are right and the Lightning Thief can indeed conduct a grand ritual of purification." Lou Ellen said as Perseus arrived by her side. "Who were these men and women when they were alive, by the way?"
  
  "They were the doomed pirates of Francis Drake. Well, some of the doomed men he lost during his expeditions to the Sea of Monsters."
  
  The sorceress glanced at the neutral expression of the Suicide Squad's leader.
  
  "From the books I read, Sir Francis Drake was an English corsair."
  
  "A corsair in one country is a pirate is another," Perseus replied philosophically. "And make no mistake, my dear sorceress lieutenant, Drake was considered a pirate by the Spanish authorities...and the very fact he tried to seize untold riches in the Sea of Monsters prove he had the intention to be a very successful adventurer...one might even say, the King of Pirates."
  
  "But he knelt before the English Queen in the end."
  
  "I suspect this had to do with the successive failures he met in the Zone Mortalis. In his time, the Caribbean was where the Sea of Monsters could be found...and it was as dangerous as it was today."
  
  Seen like that...yes, it made sense. Of course, it also answered one of the questions she had been asking herself.
  
  "Since we sure as Hell didn't locate this island with the drones, I assume you were made aware of the Drakon's lair by the diaries left by some of Drake's survivors."
  
  Perseus smiled, evidently pleased she had made the connection.
  
  "I plead guilty. And as I have no reason to hide it anymore...I managed to acquire one of the logbooks written by the hand of Drake himself."
  
  "One of the logbooks?"
  
  The green-eyed Demigod gave her an innocent expression.
  
  "Drake sailed a lot while he was alive...and the logbooks or good copies from them are really valuable. I was not the only one asking around for those relating his adventures in the Sea of Monsters."
  
  And to say the Roman Expeditionary Force had not even bothered doing that before the squadrons departed New Byzantium...
  
  Lou Ellen changed the subject.
  
  "My fire spells were incredibly weak when I cast them."
  
  "It gets worse the closer you are from the Drakon."
  
  "One of the reasons why you volunteered us for the 'Blocking Force'?"
  
  "That was one of the reasons, yes." Perseus breathed theatrically, which, since he had yet to don the 'helmet' of the X-Suit - though 'sealed white balaclava' might be more appropriate - was a very loud sound. "There is also the little problem that this fight is going to end at close-quarters. Drakons are so tough that long-range attacks are useless. These reptiles, alas, are fiendishly intelligent. They will use some parts of their body devoid of vital organs to shield themselves, trusting the regeneration skills will remove the problem in due time. That's why I am using a different array of weapons, by the way."
  
  Following these words, the son of Poseidon opened the extensive luggage he had left on the black sands before the fighting erupted, and when it opened, it revealed...a Trident.
  
  "Please tell me it isn't the Trident."
  
  The Suicide Squad's leader chuckled.
  
  "I am afraid this wasn't an option." The Trident flew in his right hand without a magical incantation. "Still, it is a very good weapon."
  
  "Celestial Bronze, Imperial Gold...and something else?" Each of the Trident's fork was made of a different metal...how interesting.
  
  "Stygian Iron," Perseus commented while picking some grenades, bombs and other magical artefacts she had seen before. "I had to be creative; there is much I don't know about the Drakon."
  
  "Drake's logbook didn't give any clue about what was waiting inside the Forge?"
  
  "I'm afraid those men of Drake who decided to go inside the Forge are still there. A pirate life is not exactly a safe profession."
  
  A scalloped shield painted in pure white colour came out of the luggage, and for this one, Lou Ellen could feel the magic.
  
  "There are serious enchantments on this shield, Jackson."
  
  "I hope so, given how much it cost to convince a certain Goddess to apply them."
  
  That the sentence was whispered was certainly not a coincidence.
  
  "A Goddess?" Lou Ellen replied with the same lack of voice intensity.
  
  "You are an intelligent sorceress, my dear."
  
  A shield with protection against frost and cold-type attacks, the X-Suits...and of the Goddesses that had visited Perseus when they were back from the First Quest...yes, it wasn't that difficult to know who was helping.
  
  "Goddesses are hardly known for their limitless generosity."
  
  "I know."
  
  This was...reassuring. Reassuring and interesting. Either Jackson had something he felt that the Goddess in question wanted to gain at all costs, or there was a betrayal waiting to be triggered. Knowing Perseus, it could be one or the other.
  
  "The Huntresses have refused to wear the X-Suits," the daughter of Hecate told him when it was obvious no more revelations were coming. "They have covered themselves in a lot of animal furs instead."
  
  And it gave you an idea of what the Hunt tracked and killed every year. Apparently, it could be summed-up with 'everything'. Bear, fox, wolf, castor, otter; whether it was a super-magical mythical breed or not, the servants of Artemis would not spare it.
  
  "I warned them; I am not going to waste my saliva for the rest of this island's Quest."
  
  "For the moment, the furs seem to keep away most of the cold. They have some blessings upon them...and some other enchantments I don't know."
  
  "The cold will get worse." This was spoken as an implacable statement. "I didn't provide a duo of penguin-sized X-Suits just because I wanted to be funny, you know."
  
  "Oh, I know. Otherwise you would have neglected your accomplice the Minotaur."
  
  The fur and every part of the body - minus for the time being the bull head - had been encased by the material looking like white latex. If anything, this had been really the last confirmation Lou Ellen needed. The penguins were more the comic-relief, for all the explosions they made. The Minotaur was the real muscle, and if Asterius was protected to such standards, then the Drakon was indeed terribly dangerous.
  
  "You're not wrong about that."
  
  "I just wonder," the daughter of Hecate smiled, "if you have considered everything the introduction of the X-Suits would do. Like what walking and fighting in these tight uniforms would do for a son of the Messenger God and the Goddess of Strategy..."
  
  Perseus turned his head...and for the first time, there was the shadow of a surprise on his face. Yes, Luke Castellan was looking at Annabeth Chase with an expression that informed everyone he had acknowledged she was indeed a young woman...
  
  Obviously, this wasn't the advantage of these 'X-Suits'. While from the outside, they indeed looked like tight suits of white latex that covered them entirely while leaving very little to imagination. But once you were inside, you really felt comfortable; there was no sensation of warmth, but there was no sensation of cold either. It was as if you were in the middle of a very pleasant summer weather...despite the fact the current temperature on the beach was at minus three degrees Celsius.
  
  "What will happen will happen." The son of Poseidon said philosophically. "I just hope they will remember to open the magma valves before kissing."
  
  Lou Ellen felt amused...and then decided there was no better moment to stake her claim. The daughter of Hecate let her sorceress' robe fall to the ground, and underneath, there was only the X-Suit.
  
  The young sorceress wasn't going to lie; she was extremely satisfied that Perseus' eyes were focused on her and entirely her for the next seconds.
  
  And when she took two steps forwards to kiss him, the kiss was reciprocated. It was powerful and filled with vitality...and when they separated, Lou Ellen felt it had lasted for too little time.
  
  Whistles and amused comments from the 'public' provided by the rest of the Suicide Squad convinced her it would not be wise to do it a second time. Certain devices to 'immortalise' the moment were already prepared...
  
  "Come back alive, Perseus."
  
  "I will, Lou Ellen. I will." The grin was not maniacal for a few seconds...though the madness returned when his eyes turned towards the penguins. "Rico! Skipper! You are going to be in the vanguard for this mountaineering expedition! Accelerate your preparations, or Asterius will motivate you! Cook, choose a better weapon, having it plated in gold is not an intricate quality! Grant! The special equipment! Hurry, the days are short and we have a Drakon to slay!"
  
  3 December 2006, somewhere not far from the summit of the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  "Who would have thought it was possible? Huntresses in distress!"
  
  The worst part was that Perseus Jackson had likely waited hours to deliver that bad pun...
  
  "And a penguin in distress too!"
  
  Jade grimaced as a few more footsteps allowed her to see Phoebe and Eudoxia dangling several metres below, with the mountaineering rope they were all tied to the sole reason they were still alive. The 'snow path' had ceded under their feet, revealing the cold precipice they had so imprudently marched towards to.
  
  Fortunately, the beast...the Minotaur and Jackson were already in action. Despite having enormous 'mountain bags' on their backs, the two had handled the initial shock without flinching, and now they were using all their strength to return Phoebe and Eudoxia to where the rest of the force had stopped...along with the penguin that had been dragged away after them.
  
  "This is the twelfth time today!" said male-turned-animal moaned once he had some solid rocks under his fins. "I expect compensation for that, Boss!"
  
  "You will get it!" The focused expression and the absence of jokes from the son of Poseidon, along with the sheer effort the Minotaur and the other males were making, were evidence enough that the rescue effort was hardly easy. "And...done!"
  
  Eudoxia was the first to be rescued, then Phoebe.
  
  If it had been her, Jade would have offered her thanks, she was not prideful enough to believe she could have saved herself from that sort of perilous situation.
  
  But Phoebe was never going to utter something complimentary to a male...and she proved it immediately.
  
  "You sent us on the wrong path, Jackson! I am going to-"
  
  "I said RIGHT after the antique stairs, Huntress! RIGHT! Not LEFT!"
  
  "NO! YOU SAID LEFT!"
  
  "He said right," Bella Medina supported Jackson. "We all heard him."
  
  "Yes," the bastard of Hercules nodded. "So stop shouting, I want to avoid another avalanche...please."
  
  "I am not going to tolerate-"
  
  "And at the risk of enduring a dozen or so insults," the white-clad son of Poseidon said, his eyes invisible behind the sort of faint orange lenses that were part of his 'X-Suit', "I will remind you there is a reason I placed the penguins in the vanguard at the beginning, and why I am going to return them again."
  
  "Oh, great!" The bigger penguin sobbed. "More death rides!"
  
  "That's the spirit, my Emperor penguin lieutenant!"
  
  "They are slowing us down!"
  
  "Huntress...in case you don't have noticed, the penguins are far lighter than you are. When one falls into a precipice or another hole, everyone will be able to endure the shock and prevent those who follow from being propelled over a cliff. When you did, however, you took one of your huntresses and a penguin with you, and it could have been incredibly worse!"
  
  Phoebe, predictably, glared murderously at Perseus Jackson. If it impressed him, there was no sign of it.
  
  "Now no more mistakes. We are very close from our point of entrance."
  
  "You were saying the same thing one hour ago, male!"
  
  "Ah, but one hour ago, were you able to see this?"
  
  The Earthshaker's legacy pointed his hand, and all followed his gaze...and indeed a few hundred metres away, there were cylindrical structures that had were half-covered in snow, yet they remained eminently recognisable.
  
  There were three of them, and Jade's heart beat faster.
  
  "The high furnaces..."
  
  "Yes, the high furnaces. Now be careful. There is certainly going to be an ambush before we reach them, and the last section is going to leave us extremely exposed to the wind."
  
  The latter was verified before Eudoxia finished a curse wishing Jackson had been drowned at birth...which was really rude, as he had just saved her life.
  
  The harsh wind struck them again.
  
  Once more time, Jade wished she was wearing one of those white 'X-Suits'. Perverted they might be in appearance, but the daughter of Scotus and the other Demigods of the group weren't complaining. They weren't feeling cold. Each time they demanded a pause, it was to drink or eat something; in the meantime all Huntresses had been forced to add layer after layer of fur, and numerous amulets supposed to protect them from the cold.
  
  And then there were explosions in the snow, and it began all over again.
  
  "AMBUSH!"
  
  With the wind raging, using their bows was impossible...again. Jade drew her short sword, and just in time: an ugly reptilian head appeared in her field of vision, and her blade parried a blow that would have decapitated her. Fortunately, this was the end of the surprises: the monster gaped as if it couldn't believe someone could be that quick, and the next strike saw its ugly head fall on the snow, along with a profusion of blue-coloured blood.
  
  The next enemy was far more conventional. It was another of those skeletons, albeit one decorated differently. The young Huntress dispatched it easily.
  
  And suddenly, she had no more opponents, and a few metres away, Perseus Jackson finished exterminating them with a blast of water from its Trident.
  
  "I think we are going to call these reptiles 'Frost Iguanas'."
  
  "A good choice, short one."
  
  "What are they, really?" Douglas Smith asked as their progression resumed and they began the few last turns to the high furnaces.
  
  "If I have to guess, parasites," the son of Poseidon replied.
  
  "Parasites?"
  
  "It isn't unprecedented. Many big animals have symbiotic relationships with other species. They get rid of ticks, and the smaller bird or animal get a free meal and temporary protection."
  
  "But those 'Frost Iguanas' are really big..." Turning back to see the abandoned corpses laying the snow, they had to be two-thirds of a teenager's body.
  
  "The Drakon isn't exactly small."
  
  "And the undead? Shouldn't the Rich One be offended by this vile necromancy?"
  
  "They aren't true undead." Bella Medina consented to explain. "Their souls have long been claimed by Death."
  
  "And that makes it better?"
  
  "Yes. These bags of bones really have no skill. They are just mimicking the shadow of a shadow. Only the formidable ice magic imbuing this island allows them to manifest like this in the first place."
  
  "I'm more worried," the bastard of Hercules grunted, "by the fact these ones had conquistador armours and weapons. You told us the pirates of Drake were the ones who wanted to claim this island's riches for themselves, Jackson!"
  
  "Indeed, I did, my best of the best lieutenant! But I never said they were the only ones to come here. I said I had the logbook of Drake's expedition."
  
  "Translation: you ignore how many Questers came here before us!" Fergus jeered with an expression Jade didn't like at all. "For all you know, the treasure has already been claimed."
  
  "Oh, I very much doubt this, my dear greedy lieutenant. The Drakon is alive and protecting its hoard...and if the audacious adventurers had managed to steal some of the treasures, they would have boasted about it. Human nature works like that."
  
  Finally, the wind stopped screaming, and they were in a far less exposed position.
  
  Unfortunately, the space the penguins and the Questers had stopped was sufficiently close to give you a perfect view on the furnaces' 'entrances'.
  
  The more Jade looked at them, the more they were looking similar to gigantic maws eager to claim their lives.
  
  "Now comes the first part!" Perseus Jackson said with exuberant cheerfulness. "Who wants to go down first?"
  
  "Shut up male or we will use our weapons to enforce punishment!"
  
  Jade had been hesitant to believe it, but now she was certain: Phoebe and the others hadn't the slightest idea of what they were doing...
  
  3 December 2006, the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  "There are too many of them."
  
  For once, the Huntress wasn't wrong.
  
  Then again, a broken clock was right twice a day, no?
  
  "There are." The son of Poseidon murmured. "Let's take a few steps back."
  
  After an exciting descent and some minor shenanigans including a game of 'push the skeleton into the closest pit', they had arrived into a big hall that was a chokepoint for the Forge's upper levels.
  
  The Drakon must have agreed with this strategic assessment, because there were about fifty skeletons stationed here to prevent an intrusion deeper into the volcanic Forge.
  
  This could have been a minor problem, in terms of threats. But since dear Fimbulvetr really, really didn't want to be disturbed, there were over seven hundred 'Frost Iguanas' present too.
  
  And not the runts they had fought outside between avalanches and 'save the penguin' incidents.
  
  Those ones were bigger...they were all in horizontal positions right now, but Perseus could guess that if they did decide to go for a bipedal position, they would be larger than him. And their fangs and claws looked quite imposing, along with dashing blue crests.
  
  "We must find another path," Fergus Cook said, his fear clearly visible on his face. The looter, as Perseus had long suspected, was all bark when it came to loot, but the moment it came to fighting, he had no bite. "Yes, it might take some time but-"
  
  "Out of the question," Perseus interrupted him. This idea needed to be squashed mercilessly. "Castellan and his force are going to launch their own assault in twenty minutes. If we don't play our part perfectly, this force will go after them."
  
  It had been a critical part of the plan from the very beginning, and it was becoming even more vital now. The Drakon was not stupid; all its dispositions proved it. The main Gates being closed forced every raiding or slaying party to climb the mountain and abandon its heavy equipment on the beaches. The 'Frost Iguanas' and the animated skeletons were here to make sure Demigods and other intruders would be forced to engage in an attrition fight.
  
  "Waiting for them would have some advantages..." to her credit, the Huntress did her best to hide her teeth were chattering. "It is really cold here."
  
  "Minus eighteen degrees Celsius, and there's some magical effect that makes it worse," Perseus said cheerfully. "But who's counting?"
  
  The daughter of Eris glared. If eyes could kill, Perseus had no doubt he would be agonising by now.
  
  He ignored it like he did many other things. The warnings had been spoken and utterly ignored. It was not his fault the Huntresses had decided to ignore his suggestions and refuse the material help that had been acquired after long and stimulating bargaining sessions.
  
  "No wonder the predators of the Zone Mortalis and all lifeforms in general are staying so far away..."
  
  Perseus walked back to the improvised camp where the rest of the Questers were waiting.
  
  "I have made my decision. We are going to use Plan E."
  
  "Plan E?" A Huntress asked, her distrust evident to all.
  
  "Plan E like Explosions."
  
  "I love Plan E!" Rico the penguin laughed maniacally. "Kaboom!"
  
  "Jackson..." No one was surprised that Phoebe hissed angrily in the next three seconds. "There are too many monsters for us to get through, and this is assuming they are the only ones we need to fight."
  
  "Which they aren't," the son of Poseidon made a silent sign, and Rico Kowalski began to take out several explosive tablets from Asterius' reserve.
  
  "Which...they aren't? How do you know it?"
  
  "I assume we are dealing with a competent enemy, my dear Huntress. And competent enemies don't place all their troops in the same location. That way, should a group of roguish and dashing adventurers like ourselves blow them up, the core of the army isn't decapitated."
  
  "Err...well...err...this is true."
  
  "I'm so glad to hear you say it. Skipper, the Iguana corpses, please."
  
  "Here they are, Boss."
  
  Three corpses of Iguana were pushed before him.
  
  Perseus smirked. When in doubt, it was best to rely on the classics invented by Catherine Foundling.
  
  "What are we going to do, Boss?" one of his faithful penguin minions opened his beak. "I have to say, the fact it involved ambushing those parasites fill me with confidence this is going to be a wonderful plan, but-"
  
  "There is no 'but', Rico!" Perseus grinned. "My plan is genial. I am going to animate these corpses via some short-lived variant of water Necromancy, you are going to stuff them with explosives...and then the animated construct is going to walk very slowly and very deliberately towards the nest of skeletons and Frost Iguanas."
  
  Perseus raised his arms and cackled.
  
  "The Drakon believes cheating is fine, but the definition of cheating definitely eludes him! Behold my First Secret Invincible Weapon, the Undead Suicide Iguana! Behold!"
  
  "You are...completely insane..." Phoebe managed to babble.
  
  "Thank you, my dear." The green-eyed Demigod turned towards Rico. "The first asset is going to destroy the nest. The two others will be used as a rearguard to give us a couple of minutes."
  
  Necromancy had been something he had dabbled in his previous life, and it was not difficult using it again for such a minor purpose. Stuffing the corpses with C4 and other nasty surprises was simplicity itself.
  
  As the Iguanas were real Iguanas, there was no way for the reptiles to realise too early what was about to befall them.
  
  And then there were the flames and the fury.
  
  KAAAABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
  
  The ground shook. Many decrepit stone arches fell. Decapitated statues of ancient times were pulverised. An immense amount of dust engulfed all the corridors leading to the chokepoint.
  
  "SUICIDE SQUAD! RUN!"
  
  Perseus didn't wait to see to see if they were obeying him. He ran.
  
  Several times he almost tripped, as the stones of the Forge had been made incredibly slippery by all the blue reptilian blood that had been sprayed everywhere.
  
  The halls that could have stopped their progression were crossed in a single minute, the rare surviving skeletons proving pathetic opponents.
  
  Perseus ran, as in the distance, there was the familiar rumble of a small army realising its fortress was under attack. He had to make a decision...now.
  
  "RICO! LEAVE THE UNDEAD IGUANAS! ASTERIUS, YOU CARRY HIM! GRANT! YOU HELP SKIPPER! DETONATORS ON SIXTY SECONDS!"
  
  The penguins had been about to be left in the dust, and unfortunately, without comic reliefs, the path to victory would be way harder for him.
  
  BOOOOOOOMMM!
  
  KABOOOOOOOOOOOM!
  
  The next explosions were indeed very impressive, and some pillars collapsed.
  
  But it was not enough.
  
  As they left the halls, they saw more and more iguanas arrive from every direction...just as they left the corridors and halls made of stone.
  
  Dozens fell to his Trident, and Asterius made his own massacre of reptiles. The Huntresses and the other Demigods participated in the slaughter too.
  
  And then they arrived in the heart of the volcano.
  
  For all the schematics he had stolen, for all the theories espoused by Drake in his logbook, for all the testimony of his sister, the sight took his breath away.
  
  "Oh, Gods..."
  
  "Gods and Titans...this is a volcano that must have been old when the world was young."
  
  Before this immensity, before this abyss...you felt insignificant.
  
  The black stone of the volcano had been shaped by near-incomprehensible forces into something that challenged imagination. And then the previous owners of the Forge had sculpted the rock to let the pipes, the rails, and every vital industrial parts they might need to forge tools and weapons.
  
  And on top of this black volcanic decoration, a vivid layer of brilliant ice had covered everything.
  
  "Behold my friends, the heart of what was the greatest Forge in the Mediterranean an age ago! Behold the Forge of All Perils!"
  
  "The enemy is still coming!"
  
  "Ah, yes...let them approach!"
  
  "ARE YOU CRAZY?"
  
  Why were they all asking this question?
  
  Perseus closed his eyes and focused about a third of his strength. The power he wielded pressed against the ice, and as he threw several special grenades, it was sufficient to give him a nice quantity of water to play with.
  
  "Consider this, Drakon," the former Tyrant spoke, knowing Fimbulvetr could hear him perfectly, "my declaration of war."
  
  And then Perseus released the water and the magic.
  
  He released everything.
  
  The Frost Iguanas had been coming by the thousands. The skeletons, many armed like Conquistadors and Pirates, were in the hundreds.
  
  When his wave struck them, they were pulverised or squished like they were insects.
  
  They had been able to be surrounded.
  
  Ten seconds later, there were only broken corpses, and the terrified hisses of the Iguanas he had precipitated into the volcanic abyss.
  
  "Okay..." this time, he had managed to knock out some of the arrogance of Grant and Medina. "Err...was it necessary to make such a ruckus? I mean, everyone knew we were here, with the explosions, but-"
  
  There was a loud sinister series of creaks and clangs, and at the edge of the 'pier' dominating the abyss, an enormous cage of metal appeared.
  
  "Good news, dear partners of madness and mayhem: it seems my challenge has been accepted."
  
  "We are going to go down in the depths of the Forge with that?" Evidently, the idea seemed to displease mightily the Huntresses.
  
  "My dear, it was a state-of-the-art elevator two thousand years ago!"
  
  "I think...err...Jackson...that is exactly the problem..."
  
  "Nonsense. But Rico and Skipper will go first and test its solidity, just to assuage your delicate sensibilities!"
  
  "Boss, you really will have to triple our pay! We haven't signed for this!"
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "What point of 'the Suicide Squad is recruiting' did lead to such confusion, my dear penguin lieutenants?"
  
  4 December 2006, Command Room, Forge of All Perils
  
  "CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR!"
  
  The storm racing towards them was horrifying.
  
  It was a tide of fangs and claws. It was an onslaught of hundreds of maws, bringing them cursed frost and death.
  
  Fortunately, Dakota and Luke were there. Using all their strength, the two boys managed to move a door wing each, all the while Leo Valdez used his Pyrokinesis abilities to form a short-lived wall of flames that for all its briefness, delayed the attack of the reptiles by several seconds.
  
  Annabeth launched several grenades in the mass of monsters...and her last vision was of the explosions and the splinters eliminating dozens of enemies.
  
  Then the enormous door of the Forge's command centre was shut down, and Annabeth fell to her knees, breathing in relief.
  
  "Gods...oh Gods...and here I thought it was supposed to be an easy mission..."
  
  "It would have been an easy mission," Luke spoke coldly, and the daughter of Athena immediately watched him, because his tone was not friendly at all. "If someone had decided that instead of sneaking through the halls, it was a good idea to make a shooting contest of those crested reptilian foes!"
  
  "Next you are going to tell us not to hunt monsters, while you are at it?" The Asian-looking Huntress mocked him.
  
  Dakota McDonald had to act in a hurry and force Luke to lower his sword, else it would have certainly come to violence.
  
  "Next time, throw yourself into the nearest pit," Luke growled before turning away, "at least it will rid us of your stupidity!"
  
  "You are saying that because you are male!"
  
  Oh by all her mother's stratagems, this idiocy had lasted long enough.
  
  "But I am not!" Annabeth said forcefully. "And I say you are useless! Why are you here in the first place?"
  
  Of course, the grey-eyed Demigoddess knew why those Huntresses had decided to participate in the Great Quest, but a question could have several meanings.
  
  "We are here by the will of Artemis!"
  
  "No. Why are you here in this mission in the first place? Luke unlocked the doors and several other obstacles. I deactivated plenty of traps and guided the party through this forge-labyrinth. Dakota has transported everything we couldn't, including alcohol to serve as a reserve of fuel-"
  
  "My poor drinks," the son of Bacchus moaned, "your sacrifice will be remembered for all eternity."
  
  "And Leo gave us much needed fire and light when we asked for it." Annabeth finished. "Why are we forced to tolerate your presence? You are loud, you're picking fights we can't afford to win, and most of the time, you're unable to fight in a sound tactical manner!"
  
  "The males' influence is corrupting your mind!" the Huntress named Alexia hissed. "You know the cold is sapping our strength-"
  
  "And whose fault is that?" Luke was right, by the Pit; if the Huntresses threw themselves in the nearest lethal trap, they would really be rid of the legendary stupidity of the 'man-hating Cult'. "Jackson provided X-Suits. He warned you that it was going to be hellishly cold. You preferred your furs. Don't complain now because you didn't want to listen to him!"
  
  "Those are clothes filled with perversion! Look at you!"
  
  Oh yes, look at her. Annabeth made a graceful move, and suddenly, the eyes of Luke and the other boys were on her. Though she really only cared about Luke. Donning the X-Suit had made sure the hero of New Byzantium at last saw her as the woman she was. If Annabeth had known it was all she needed to do, she would have done it far sooner...though maybe not in view of all Byzantium, the latex-looking X-Suit was very tight and did not hide anything.
  
  "I am not going to waste my time with you." There was good news in the middle of the bad ones: all the temptation she might ever have felt to join the Huntresses of Artemis had been utterly crushed before being set on fire. Annabeth had though Nightshade was bad during the last Great Quest; this group of Huntresses had made clear the principal lieutenant was in reality a moderate. "Leo, I need your flames to defreeze this automaton."
  
  "Err...sure, but why this one in particular?"
  
  "There's a lot of alpha glyphs carved in his metallic shell."
  
  "Oh...yes, I suppose that's a good idea," the son of Hephaestus approved while shaking his head.
  
  The Huntresses were ignored for the time being, and the Demigods went to work, surrounded by marvels of engineering.
  
  For what was certainly not the last time, Annabeth wished that Jackson had stopped being mysterious and told her who was behind the construction of this titanic forge! Despite being millennia old, there were dozens of antique automatons there, all shaped to represent various species of fishes, and once Leo Valdez would have removed them from their prisons of frost, they would be able to resume their work.
  
  At least, that was the hope. Annabeth knew she was smart, but learning how the thousands of levers and the mechanisms the size of an adult man worked was a bit beyond her league, especially when the time was limited.
  
  Ice broke. And to her relief, when alcohol was injected into the 'veins' and Leo slammed flames upon the torso, the orca-sculpted automaton reacted.
  
  "Unit Alpha-One-One, returning to duty." Several blades began to emerge from hidden compartments. "Provide the primary codes or suffer the consequences."
  
  Annabeth swallowed and drew the piece of paper Jackson had given her.
  
  "The Code is Kappa-Kappa-Omega-Theta. The Forge has been under enemy occupation for too long. I request the activation of Condition Extremis."
  
  "Code correct," the automaton reacted, the blades returning to their hidden compartments, and Annabeth was deeply relieved. "Analysis of the situation..."
  
  A lot of frost was pulverised, and several immense cog mechanisms began to grind against each other for the first time in an eternity.
  
  "Situation requires Condition Extremis. Opening of the Magma Valves is to be granted Alpha Priority. Gamma and Delta Arsenals unlocked. Analysis...warning: the number of Questers currently present in the Forge is insufficient to achieve victory."
  
  "Hey!" Dakota exclaimed. "We managed to reach the command centre on our own, and there is another party fighting its way to the chief monster. We have beaten the odds!"
  
  "Incorrect," the head of the metallic orca emotionlessly replied as more and more machinery began to return to full functionality, and the growling of fire and machines became akin to the beating of a heart. "Based on observations of your skills and military capabilities, defeating secondary and tertiary level of opposition was given a 52% chance of success. Defeating the primary invader of the sacred forge has a 0% chance of success."
  
  "We have accomplished the impossible before," Annabeth said defensively. "Or more accurately, the crazy Demigod that proclaimed himself our leader is making a habit of accomplishing the impossible, just to infuriate the Gods and everyone else."
  
  "Never before has such an important truth being spoken..." Kimiko the Huntress grumbled.
  
  Two more 'mechanic wheel' objects began to turn.
  
  "Human analysis is flawed. Projection of the primary invader ongoing..."
  
  Frost cracked, Leo blasted more fire to get rid of the ice, and suddenly, a mirror-like surface appeared at the centre of the room.
  
  Annabeth marvelled at the sheer accomplishment of having created this kind of technological device millennia ago...but the sight the mechanical mirror showed stopped the admiration in its tracks.
  
  It was as if an entire harbour and hundreds of ships were buried in a field of icebergs. That it was showing them one of the largest areas carved inside the volcano was beyond doubt. That the Forge had been a very successful affair was barely worth saying, given the enormous number of Greek and Roman merchant ships.
  
  All of this was important.
  
  And yet none of it mattered when the device showed them the Drakon.
  
  "Oh my God..."
  
  "-zilla."
  
  Annabeth blinked and gaped at Leo Valdez.
  
  "What? He looks a bit like the giant lizard of the movies, no?"
  
  "Yeah," Dakota said weakly. "Yes, he does. We have to warn Jackson and the others. There is...Jackson is good, but between this monster and the Kraken of the hell sea, I would choose the Kraken..."
  
  4 December 2006, Trophy Halls, the Forge of All Perils
  
  Richard did not suffer from vertigo.
  
  He didn't.
  
  But the journey in this cage, tossed in every direction possible by a semi-blizzard, regularly attacked by winged reptiles that had been quickly labelled 'Lesser Wyverns' by the madman...if the ground had not been frozen when they exited the cage, the son of Hercules would have kissed it.
  
  But it was hellishly cold, and the blizzard was raging.
  
  "Jackson! We have to make a pause!" Richard was feeling exhausted, and carrying a penguin on his back was really not helping. Seriously, how did the Minotaur manage it, with the quantity of weapons and ammunition the bull-headed 'accomplice' had in its mountain bag? "The Huntresses are lagging badly behind us!"
  
  "I know. But we have to hurry." The son of Poseidon had not a grinning expression for once; the orange lenses hiding his eyes were giving an appearance of 'calm and focused'. "My dear heroic lieutenants have certainly re-activated certain vital functions of the Forge of All Perils."
  
  "And how can you know that?"
  
  "Because the device we were supposed using to communicate between different groups is not functioning," the answer was blunt, exceptionally so. "Since it worked when we entered the Forge, the most likely scenario is that the Drakon is trying to break all our attempts to coordinate. And if we don't hurry to face the chief opponent, we are going to let him the opportunity to have very nasty ideas. Like how can he reconquer the command centre of the Forge of All Perils while preparing deadly traps for us."
  
  That was...logical...and hardly pleasant news. But there could be another explanation.
  
  "Maybe the device broke?"
  
  "It's Hermes-tech, Grant. I paid two thousand Drachmas for the set. Believe me, it doesn't stop functioning for no reason...and besides, have you ever been able to accuse me of buying the cheap and disposable stuff when it comes to critical equipment?"
  
  The older Demigod instantly shook his head. There were many things you could accuse Jackson of, but not being a cheapskate. The X-Suits alone were worth ten times their weight in Imperial Gold; you only had to look at the Huntresses to see the difference it made. They were constantly shivering and trying to keep themselves warm, while the rest of their force wasn't bothered by the cold.
  
  "Okay...okay, Jackson. You're right. But if we don't rest at least for half an hour now, all you will achieve will be to bring tired Demigods to the Drakon fight. If we don't have some time to recover, all you will have is some exhausted warriors and Huntresses to fight something extremely dangerous. We need a good meal in our stomach, drinks, and some rest. And likely in that order...please."
  
  For several seconds, Richard Grant had to almost run to follow Jackson...until the son of Poseidon abruptly stopped.
  
  "Fine. We are going to enter the Trophy Halls; the Docks and our primary enemy are not really that far away. They begin at the gigantic triumphal arch? See it?"
  
  "I see it." It had to be two hundred and fifty metres away or so.
  
  "Then pass the word."
  
  "I will."
  
  The Minotaur, of course, seemed to be indifferent to it, but all other members welcomed it with visible relief, no matter how much their face was hidden by the magical variant of a balaclava or not.
  
  Jackson had really pushed them hard, and the idea of eating and drinking from the 'X-Containers' they had brought with them raised the spirits enough to convince everyone for a last effort.
  
  "By the way, why did you call it 'Trophy Halls'?" He asked Jackson as they passed under the colossal black arch. "We have not seen much...much..."
  
  Suddenly and without warning, he was walking on a river of gold.
  
  No, Richard wasn't exaggerating. There was ice and snow, clearly, as there had been everywhere, but the coins couldn't be mistaken for anything else. And in the first hall he advanced into, there had to be...easily thousands of them.
  
  "Ah, here comes the trap," the son of Hercules was sure he heard the Suicide Squad's leader mutter.
  
  "A trap?"
  
  "Remember what I said about curses?"
  
  "Yes, of course, don't grab...oh." Richard swallowed heavily, feeling suddenly ill-at-ease by merely looking at the Drachmas and the Denarii, among other coins he recognised. "You mean they are all-"
  
  "They are all cursed. I think these ones have been treated with...hmm...it looks like a Proportional Curse of Greed? Original, I have to say."
  
  "A Proportional Curse of Greed?"
  
  "The more coins you grab here, the worse the curse will get." The sober and very serious voice made limpid that no, it was not a joke.
  
  "That sounds...bad. I suppose that after a few minutes, you think only of acquiring more and more coins, until nothing else matters."
  
  "That and worse. If you try to grab more and more coins, you will become so greedy until your mind is convinced the entire wealth of this Forge and beyond rightfully belong to you. And you will have no reluctance killing anyone who might get in the way."
  
  'Bad' was too weak a word, apparently. Perseus looked in the direction of a great...it looked vaguely like a temple, if you took into account he broken statues and the destroyed decoration.
  
  "We are going to make our short pause here. The coins are bad, but I feel far worse curses waiting in the other Halls."
  
  No one was willing to object, though it may be more because of the sheer exhaustion they all felt.
  
  At least it was getting warmer. While they ate and drank from the X-Containers - in fact it was mostly drinking, as the things had drinking straws to go from the protected container to your mouth - the blizzard had not pursued them here. But there was something oppressing in the air, and Jackson wasn't able to communicate with either Castellan or the 'Blocking Force' waiting outside of the mountain.
  
  There were no conversations: at best a few grunts and shrugs. Everyone was saving his or her strength.
  
  It all ended too fast to anyone's taste, honestly. Jackson was as good as his word: he gave them thirty minutes, and not one more second.
  
  The expedition resumed its advance into new halls. And after three of middle sizes where they were treated to the sight of countless golden and silvery coins, the real problems began.
  
  The coins were the real deal, but they were just coins. Loot, basic treasure, and all that stuff, but since they could only carry so much on their backs - something the son of Poseidon had taunted them with - the temptation was nearly nonexistent.
  
  The new hall they entered was different.
  
  First, there were the severed heads of two giant sharks to 'greet the visitors', and Richard honestly didn't know which species of sharks could go so big; there was largely enough space for a human to be swallowed in one gulp.
  
  Then the trophies offered themselves to their size. Plenty of them would receive a place of honour in any Demigod's collection of defeated monsters: giant tusks, giant fangs, giant skeletal heads of Hydras...
  
  And then there were the weapons.
  
  Bejewelled rapiers had been abandoned next to massive axes. Two-handed swords were in the places of honour next to shields that might be appropriate if you were three metres-tall. There had to be seven or eight alleys in this single hall, and there was nothing but weapons. The old but still deadly hoplite spears were present next to the muskets, the bows were close to the harquebus, and the eighteenth century field guns were facing the crossbows. The gladiators' weapons of the Roman Empire were everywhere, and there had to be enough in armours and other supplies to equip a Legion, if you did not mind the lack of coherence.
  
  And all of it was cursed.
  
  Richard might have not thought too much about it, if Jackson had mentioned it, but he did, and with every temptation...
  
  Okay, Richard had never believed himself to be a sorcerer or a clever scholar, but he was sure of one thing: the metal wasn't supposed to glint like that, whether torches or ice was close to it to reflect the weak light.
  
  Seize this weapon. Claim eternal glory!
  
  Voices in his head were telling him to grab this weapon or that weapon. The fact that until today, he had never had this kind of pressure inside his mind was enough to tell him not to listen to them. Yes, some of the swords were so beautiful they could have been used by Emperors or Consuls centuries ago. So what? He wasn't an Emperor, and he needed a sword, not an instrument of parade.
  
  The problem was that the moment he thought this, the weapons that were attracting his gaze were changing, as if the halls themselves were-
  
  Glory can be yours! This blade will slay a thousand foes for you!
  
  "Jackson," the son of Hercules grunted, "is my mind playing tricks or-"
  
  "No, the Trophy Halls are heavily cursed. The Drakon is close; the influence of the enemy grows."
  
  Wealth! Glory! We can give you everything you ever wanted!
  
  It was weird, but it was reassuring. It was a struggle to walk, but the fact the penguins right before him were walking unaffected hurt his pride. Damn it, if two screw-ups that had not been smart enough to not provoke Goddesses were able to resist this, then it wouldn't be said that he couldn't!
  
  Turn around, Richard Grant! You are missing your destiny! You will become the King of Demigods!
  
  But it was hard. Oh yes, it was hard...and with Douglas Smith, they had to shout a Legionnaire's song to clear their mind and motivate themselves with insults.
  
  Damn the Drakon. This wasn't the kind of battlefield he was born for.
  
  But as they passed a curious decapitated structure which might have been an octopus with too many tentacles, the whispers died. The 'grab this weapon' temptation ceased as if it had never existed.
  
  Richard Grant sighed in relief, and he wasn't the only one.
  
  "That was unpleasant." He wasn't going to complain, but he felt like he had aged ten years in this hall.
  
  "It was worse than that," Rico Kowalski was almost on the verge of crying. "Have you any idea how many explosives I had to leave behind?"
  
  "Bah, I'm sure the mad Demigod that you call leader will give them to you once all the curses of this Forge are broken," Jade the Huntress remarked, and the Minotaur behind her grunted in agreement.
  
  "The short one is fond of explosives. We will use them."
  
  "You see?" their party's Emperor penguin tried to comfort...his fellow penguin. "All will be fine and...wait a minute, where are the others?"
  
  Richard Grant watched...and sure enough, the Minotaur was the last member of the group...when he definitely shouldn't have been.
  
  "A million scavenging sea monsters! Billions of bilious blue blistering barnacles in a thunderous typhoon! Coconuts! Dry-dock sailors! Earthworms! Freshwater politicians! Great horned toads! Heretics! Ignoramus! Jellied eels! Kleptomaniacs! Logarithms! Malefactors! Nest of rattlesnakes! Ostrogoths! Pachyrhizus! Quivering ectoplasm! Rug merchants! Subtropical sea-louse! Two-faced insects! Unspeakable varlets! Vegetarians! Whale bubblers! Young monkeys! Zombies! "
  
  The intensity and the sheer number of curses utter by Perseus Jackson was such that Richard Grant was left staring open-mouthed. He was in good company, that said. Expect the penguins, who had been religiously taking notes, everyone was staring at the son of Poseidon.
  
  "Sorry," the leader of the Suicide Squad said in a voice that wasn't sorry at all.
  
  "Well...for this once I understand your anger?" Douglas cleared his throat. "You warned them, and...err...I think they pretty much decided to ignore everything you said."
  
  "An astute observation," there was enough acid in these three words to poison someone, and all around them, ice exploded, as Jackson's wrath...he was really, really angry.
  
  "Must I go after them, short one?" The Minotaur asked with a disdainful sniff.
  
  "No. Your life is far more important than theirs will ever be."
  
  Richard grimaced, but unfortunately, as galling as it was to say...Jackson was right. The Minotaur was strong, obeyed orders, and did not screw up at every opportunity.
  
  The same couldn't be said of the five individuals that were left in the 'Weapons Hall'.
  
  Fergus Cook. Bella Medina. And three out of four Huntresses: Phoebe, Kalinda, and Eudoxia.
  
  Those were their names.
  
  And they had succumbed to the bait the Drakon had thrown before their noses.
  
  Since Perseus had told them exactly what was waiting for someone grabbing a single coin, Richard hadn't naivety in him to pretend the theft of a single weapon wouldn't be bad enough. The question was 'how bad was it going to be'?
  
  Still, he had to ask.
  
  "Jackson...is there a chance they can fight a curse for long enough to-"
  
  "For long enough to what, Grant?" Perseus Jackson's wrath seemed to have been expended, and now his voice sounded just...tired. "I'm reasonably confident that once it will be time to break the curses of the Forge of All Perils, the sorcerous lore of our daughter of Hades will prove invaluable. But her Dreadful Majesty is a sorceress, not a miracle-maker. Once the curses have embedded themselves in one's flesh, it is extremely difficult to remove them. Sometimes it's fundamentally impossible without killing the target."
  
  "Kaboom?"
  
  "No, Rico, 'Kaboom' won't help. Not in a thousand years."
  
  Watching the...the foolishness, Richard could very well believe it.
  
  Fergus Cook had, like the greedy fool he was, taken a sort of knight's shield that appeared to be made of Imperial Gold. As if it wasn't enough, to a belt that hadn't been over his X-Suit before, several bejewelled daggers of Celestial Bronze had found their place. And now he was trying to choose before a diamond-shining flail and a sword that looked entirely made of sapphires. The pile of gold near the shield wasn't reassuring either.
  
  Bella Medina seemed to not have fallen to the same level of madness, though the sword of darkness she now had in her possession were not of any nature to rejoice. The daughter of Scotus seems to have gone for a pair of elegant black boots too.
  
  As for the Huntresses, they were worse than the Roman Demigoddess: they had grabbed a longbow each, and were now busy pilfering dozens of magical arrows. One might have gambled the leader would be more reasonable, but one would have thought wrong: the longbow Phoebe the Huntress had chosen for herself shone like moonlight and gave him very bad feelings. And of course, she had chosen to don...a brand-new armour, yes, just something that 'minor'. It was something conservative, deadly...and it radiated something incredibly dangerous, for all the magnificent silver and bronze.
  
  Richard turned rapidly away when it was clear she was beginning to disrobe. The other boys imitated him.
  
  "Jackson," Douglas began, "the bow and the armour, were they once wielded by Artemis...or Selene?"
  
  "Difficult to say," the son of Poseidon answered honestly. "I am too far away to examine the artefacts properly, and what I can 'taste' from these curses don't really incite me to go closer. The only thing I can tell you is that of all cursed things in this little arsenal, I can assure you the armour and the bow are some of the worse things you could pick."
  
  "This is horrible," Jade said, "but if you act early then-"
  
  "Dear Huntress," the black-haired Demigod said, "I think it's time for us to have a vital conversation. The rest of you, wait here please. Keep an eye on our five imbeciles while staying out of range of the cursed halls, we will be back within a couple of minutes."
  
  The room was filled with banners. Most of them looked Atlantean. Like everything, they were covered by a large layer of ice.
  
  Jade pretty much ignored that to watch the son of Poseidon...who was for the moment presenting his back to her.
  
  "You want us to have a 'vital conversation', Jackson. We are alone. What do you want?"
  
  "A wise man said years ago that there were two things infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and he wasn't sure about the universe." The Earthshaker's son did not answer her question, of course. "He was completely right."
  
  The eyes hidden behind the orange lenses of the X-Suit finally met hers.
  
  "The Huntresses are never going to be the same."
  
  "I know," Jade admitted, "but even if Phoebe and the others are cursed, the others will continue monitoring you and act if there is any sign of betrayal. We are loyal to the Hunt...I am loyal to the Hunt."
  
  "I'm sorry, maybe I should have been more explicit, dear Huntress. Each and every one of you who entered the Forge...you are cursed. I didn't suggest the X-Suits because I wanted to see everyone in tight white uniforms or some other nonsense. I wanted it because the interior of this mountain has been corrupted by a certain Drakon. Obviously, not touching or grabbing cursed weapons is a must-do if you want to avoid dying in an awful manner. But all of you Huntresses are cursed now. Only the ones who stayed outside with the Blocking Force avoided this fate...for now."
  
  Something inside her lungs urged the young Huntress to say the explanations were wrong.
  
  But in the end, Jade fought against it. What would be the point? Jackson could lie, sure, but there was really no big gain for him. In fact, if it was true, he had lost a lot. Bella Medina and Fergus Cook had X-Suits, and thus were protected before these halls...but they had chosen to throw it away for powerful weapons.
  
  "My Goddess' blessing won't be enough when this mad Quest is over?"
  
  "The cold has seeped into your bones." There was no grand proclamation of victory over her. "The Drakon is going to use it against you."
  
  "The Drakon...the monster is going to twist all the others." The young Huntress didn't make it a question, and the son of Poseidon didn't say she was wrong.
  
  "What do you propose?" She did her best not to shiver, for the sheer exhaustion she felt, the way the thirty minutes of rest had not done so much good...the ice in her veins...all was too easily explained. They had been cursed, in an insidious manner. "I have not brought the X-Suit you left in my cabin, and I doubt you brought it with you."
  
  "The X-Suit is more or less useless right now." Perseus Jackson didn't show it, so this was all the confirmation she needed that there would no salvation in 'perverted clothes', as Phoebe was so often saying. "It could have been using protecting you from the cold and the power of the Drakon, but it can't do anything from the curse worming its way into your soul. It is a suit offering divine protection against the cold, after all; it can't create miracles alone."
  
  Suddenly, the Demigod's right hand had a...it was a snowflake? One part of it was black, one part was silver...and the whole seemed to be bathed in ice...and was it snow falling?
  
  "It belongs to a Goddess." Jade had seen enough objects belonging to Artemis to recognise a divine creation when she saw one.
  
  "Yes."
  
  Jackson didn't need to say more; the snowflake was not the Master Bolt of Zeus, but it was still a relatively well-known symbol, especially for the Huntresses, who killed monsters from spring to winter.
  
  "What will it do?"
  
  "It will protect your mind. And it will ensure that the transformation will preserve some of your humanity." Jade didn't really understand the last part, and her confusion was sufficiently visible for the Suicide Squad's leader to explain further. "Once you will be fully transformed, you will be able to return to a human body approaching the one you currently have. You may not be able to keep this appearance at all times."
  
  "And the price?"
  
  "You know exactly the price you will need to pay." The Demigod placed the snowflake in her right hand. "Goddesses can give great boons, but only to those who serve them."
  
  "And if I refuse? If I call...the Lady of the Hunt?"
  
  "The former is your choice. If you refuse, you refuse. I can't promise this will be pleasant...the only thing I can really swear is that I will put you down during the Drakon fight if it is your desire. As for the latter...you can't. Gods can't enter the Forge of All Perils as long as the Drakon lives...or the Drakon invites them."
  
  Something troubled Jade. Those were true rules; the Demigods were so often used because they didn't have to respect them. But these were rules for a God's Domain. Not for a Drakon. Unless-
  
  "Jackson." Jade had believed herself to be very afraid before; she was wrong. Fear was consuming her heart now. "What are we going to fight?"
  
  "The Ancestral Drakon of Frost, Ice, and Winter."
  
  It answered the question...and at the same time, it didn't.
  
  The mad Demigod hadn't uttered the word 'God'.
  
  Yes, it wasn't surprising how cursed this whole dormant volcano was. It was a Forge, a location of magma and fire. It shouldn't have been so easily cursed, corrupted, and twisted.
  
  And as servants of Artemis, they should have been far more resistant to the Cold Curse, Drakon or not.
  
  But if they had infiltrated the lair of a Drakon God...
  
  "Can you promise me something, Jackson?"
  
  "That entirely depends on the promise," obviously, the cheeky tone was back.
  
  "Kill the reptile. Make sure it dies. I may not survive this, but I want it to pay."
  
  "As the Lady wishes." Jackson bowed. "Now I need to return and join back the Suicide Squad. As for you...you have a choice to make."
  
  4 December 2006, the Docks, the Forge of All Perils
  
  Douglas Smith felt something really bad was about to happen.
  
  It wasn't just because they had confirmed beyond doubt that five members of their twelve-strong party were complete imbeciles...and had offered zero apologies for disobeying Jackson's orders.
  
  This was bad, but the son of Volturnus had expected nothing else from Fergus Cook and the Huntresses. Bella Medina was a bit more of a surprise, but he didn't know her that well to be surprised.
  
  It was still reeking of something nasty.
  
  The last halls had been undefended, and while Jackson had decided to use his Hydrokinesis to wash away the cursed artefacts present to tempt them to other halls, Douglas couldn't help but think it was way too easy.
  
  There were no monsters, and the traps that remained could be seen fifty metres away.
  
  Douglas walked faster, and joined the son of Poseidon leading their column.
  
  "How bad is it going to be?"
  
  "You noticed." The son of Poseidon replied serenely, making Douglas scoff.
  
  "Jackson, we have been under attack for hours by countless reptiles. And suddenly, five idiots touch cursed objects, and the blizzard and the monster attacks cease? I am here for revenge, but I am not blind. And there's another point I didn't miss: you told us the curses were incredibly powerful and fast-acting. Yet none of the five morons are screaming in pain right now...this suggests to me two possible scenarios: either you were completely wrong about the curses, or they are going to be triggered at the worst moment possible."
  
  And given how insistent the voices of the Trophy Halls had been into tempting them, the son of Volturnus didn't believe a single second there were no curses. That left the really bad scenario.
  
  "You have made an extremely good situational analysis, Smith. If we survive this, I will place you under the daughter of Athena's command."
  
  "If we survive this?"
  
  "Castellan and the others have reached the command centre of the Forge. But it is not warming fast enough. The power of the Frost isn't weakened enough. As you say, there is a massive trap ahead of us."
  
  "Shouldn't we prepare a battlefield more to our advantage, in that case?"
  
  "No. This would be a smart strategy...if I could be sure the Questers who reached the command centre would hold it for hours without problems. Unfortunately, with communications broken, I can't confirm this is the case. Ah, here we are."
  
  There was another arch, where octopi and various sea creatures had been sculpted.
  
  And then the walls ceased to be, and an enormous part of the volcano revealed itself to their eyes.
  
  Once again, Douglas felt all tiny and ridiculous.
  
  This was no natural cavern; the words seemed completely inaccurate given the sheer size of the bloody thing.
  
  There was a ceiling, but it was so high above their head that it was difficult to see it...maybe over one kilometre, and that was more likely a conservative estimate.
  
  They marched onto what had been an elevated plaza and saw the place Jackson had called 'Docks'.
  
  It was justified.
  
  Hundreds of ships were buried in a sea of ice. Triremes, galleons, Viking longships, and many other types of warship and merchant ships were there. Long ago, before the Drakon came, this had to be an interior lake, where the Forge's owners used as a natural harbour. The advantages were evident even for a novice: protected by the natural 'walls' of the volcano, the merchants and local population could bargain and trade as they wished; given the sheer size of the 'Gates' half-hidden by the frost, there was no way an enemy could break through without divine help.
  
  And yet, the Forge had evidently fallen at some point. How-
  
  "Ah, here it goes."
  
  Douglas hadn't perfect eyes, but it was easy to see in the first seconds. They emerged from the snow. At first only pirate sabres and muskets were visible. But in one minute, the muzzles and the ice-coloured snouts of the Frost Iguanas joined them.
  
  There were hundreds who appeared in the 'first wave'. This was nothing but the vanguard. The snow rumbled, and then the true might of the ferocious reptiles revealed itself.
  
  It was...it was a flood. There had to be thousands easily. No more than that-
  
  "Ten thousand, give it or take," Richard Grant said quietly, his arrogance nowhere in sight. "We have a problem."
  
  "Yes," the son of Poseidon nodded, "because this is no ordinary rabble."
  
  He was right, unfortunately. Many of the Frost Iguanas didn't rely on their natural claws and fangs: at least half of them had forged themselves crude shields and spears. Here and there the reptiles were unveiling banners, whose very presence seemed wrong somehow. Douglas didn't recognise the sigil, but a reptilian eye painted in green didn't seem like good news.
  
  "Ten thousand against twelve," Bella Medina chuckled. "That seems one for the legends of New Constantinople."
  
  Perseus Jackson didn't answer, instead his fists began to burn in white energy...and in two seconds, two enormous ballista which were imprisoned in vast cocoons of ice were released.
  
  "Attempting Primary Liaison. Condition Extremis!"
  
  There was a low grumble...and then the siege engines began to shift and a line of fire magic seemed to burn in a conduit underneath the frozen stones.
  
  "Our fellow Questers have given us a chance. Rico, Skipper, the ballista are yours. They have autoloaders linked directly to the Delta Arsenal, so you shouldn't run out of ammunition."
  
  Douglas felt a bit reassured as enormous bolts with tips of Celestial Bronze began to materialise, and the penguins rushed towards them with malicious cackles.
  
  That said, there were just two ballista.
  
  Two siege engines, and the lizard army, supported by hundreds of skeletons, was everywhere in this lake of frost and ice.
  
  And the Drakon was nowhere to be seen.
  
  "Orders, short one?" The Minotaur grunted.
  
  "I think it is time to use our Ultimate Combo." Perseus Jackson used his Trident to strike his own shield in a defiant manner. "SUICIDE SQUAD! TO WAR!"
  
  They shouted back. It was just madness. They were likely all going to die, submerged by an endless number of monsters. But this whole Great Quest was craziness incarnate anyway.
  
  For once, cursed or not, they were all united in a single purpose. The monsters had to be killed.
  
  Of course the reptilian army screamed back its hatred, and it charged them, in a sound that shook the world.
  
  "SECRET ULTIMATE COMBO! OCEAN BULLHORN!"
  
  Perseus Jackson and the Minotaur charged the Frost Iguanas like berserkers, and far faster than any mortal had any right to be.
  
  The shock...the shock was akin to a tsunami slamming into a mountain.
  
  The explosion sprayed enormous quantities of iguana's blood, and the massacre began.
  
  Douglas felt sure he wasn't going to forget it, not for as long as he lived.
  
  Such was the power of the attack that the enemy army was separated in two. Over a thousand monsters were already transformed into meat that fizzled out of existence, and the son of Poseidon was just beginning. A wave was summoned, and it slammed into the skeletons again and again, dispersing the bones.
  
  "COME ON! WHO WANTS TO SEE ANOTHER AGE OF PIRACY?"
  
  Everyone entered the melee, and immediately it was kill or be killed.
  
  They were outnumbered a thousand to one...but they charged. They couldn't stop at risk of being overwhelmed...and so they didn't.
  
  Suddenly the sky lit on fire, and the ballista joined the massacre.
  
  Douglas slammed his shield into the heads of various Frost Iguanas, and decapitated dozens of heads. It was kill or be killed, and if he had any choice in it, he preferred to be the killer.
  
  The bolts of the siege engines were devastating. Each time they hit, the created enormous furrows into the monstrous horde, and Jackson was exploiting them ruthlessly.
  
  War. The frenzy of war had seized them all. There was no mercy; not that there had been much of that since they entered the forge. They were fighting at the edge of the lake, as behind them the stone was revealed as magma finally broke the cold aura, and ahead of them remained the lake of frost.
  
  They were powerful. They fought like demons.
  
  It wasn't enough.
  
  Kalinda the Huntress was the first to fall. Douglas didn't know if it was the curse or her own arrogance, but she had forgotten that racing through the battlefield was her only chance...and before anyone could do anything, she was surrounded.
  
  A spear impaled her from behind, the crude weapon being quite evidently more redoubtable than its appearance suggested...and then claws and fangs fell by the hundreds upon her. The screams were particularly horrible...and there was nothing they could do.
  
  The Demigods gave everything they had in the minutes following it. The Minotaur was a hurricane of destruction, Perseus Jackson threw stalagmites at his opponents, killing hundreds with each blow. Their blades of Celestial Bonze and Imperial Cold drank the life of countless monsters. The ranks of the enemy were thinning.
  
  And it wasn't fast enough for some. Fergus Cook lost an arm, and would have lost his life if the Minotaur wasn't here to save him. Minor consolation, the Frost Iguanas entered into maniacal frenzy when it came to eating the severed limb...something that facilitated their elimination.
  
  But there was no one to save the other Huntress when a reptilian mace hit her head. Douglas knew it was a death blow before she hit the ground...and though the Huntress-in-chief exacted a merciful vengeance, it was not going to return Eudoxia the Huntress to life.
  
  And then it was over.
  
  The horde of the Frost Iguanas broke, having had enough. More than two-thirds of their numbers were slain, the skeletons were all disintegrated, and the banner-holders - who must have been leaders of sort - had been challenged and killed by Jackson.
  
  The monstrous horde fled like Hell was coming...and while Jackson sent a last wave, no one pursued.
  
  They were all trying to catch their breath.
  
  By the Gods...what a battle...what a slaughter...
  
  "Ballista penguins! Stop firing! Save the ammunition!"
  
  "Yes, Boss!"
  
  "Understood, Boss!"
  
  "What a...I don't find the words..." the huntress called Jade decided to use a nearby barrel as an improvised seat. "I can't believe we managed to survive it..."
  
  "Two of your sisters didn't!" Of course, Phoebe the Huntress had to ruin the moment. Of course. "Eudoxia and Kalinda are dead!"
  
  "And I lost my left arm," Fergus Cook was in the process of receiving emergency healing from Jackson...and it didn't sound pleasant, given the noises of pain which escaped his lips. "This battle was definitely no joke. They ate my shield..."
  
  "I told you gold by itself is no first-rate protection." The son of Poseidon chuckled. "The good news, such as it is, is that a few of the curses you were so stupid as to 'collect' were linked to your arm are gone now. They weren't triggered, and the flesh is gone, so...success!"
  
  "That's...good news, right?"
  
  "Well, it would be if you hadn't 'collected' dozens of other curses," the Suicide Leader's squad said mockingly. "Still, you will live."
  
  "JACKSON, MY SISTERS ARE DEAD!" An arrow flew...and it was stopped by the axe of the Minotaur.
  
  "If you shoot one more arrow in my direction, Huntress, I will kill you." The son of the Earthshaker spoke. The cavern seemed to shake under the power of the voice. When he continued, it was in a more conventional tone...but no less threatening. "Many of your man-hating cultists are rapidly outliving whatever usefulness they ever had. Attack me once again, and your next journey will be Hell...the old-fashioned way."
  
  "Three of my sisters are dead, male."
  
  "And I am very sorry for your loss," this was a lie, Douglas and everyone present knew it, "but this Zone Mortalis is called the Sea of Monsters. Those who have not the power, the skill, and a good dose of luck to survive...they don't."
  
  Perseus sighed before turning back to the son of Liber.
  
  "I have done everything I can for your arm, Cook. If everything works out fine, I will see in a few days if we can give you a metallic prosthesis straight from the Forge's ateliers."
  
  "If everything works out fine?" Richard Grant repeated suspiciously.
  
  "There is a monster left inside the Forge. I can feel the magma being pumped into several pipes...and yet this lake remained obstinately frozen. By all rights, the Drakon should have already attacked us, not left the work to its iguana minions."
  
  "Attrition, Boss." Rico Kowalski proposed, agitating comically his fins. "We expended a lot of ammunition, and we need rest. If it comes out now, we're going to be far more tired than we were at the beginning of this battle."
  
  "That's sound strategy...if our opponent was a child of Athena. But a Drakon isn't that. So why-"
  
  "Fimbulvetr will not come until I give him the authorisation."
  
  The frozen lake ahead of them flashed green, and everyone retreated in urgency towards the zone where stone, not frost, was covering.
  
  This was not part of the plan.
  
  The 'final boss' of this island was supposed to be Fimbulvetr. There was nothing bigger and more dangerous than the Ancestral Drakon.
  
  Unfortunately, it seemed his calculations and plans were completely wrong.
  
  It had been a while Perseus hadn't been that outmanoeuvred...how refreshing.
  
  The former Tyrant watched the lake of ice for several seconds, as the frost turned from white and blue to a very reptilian green.
  
  "Who are you?" he asked at last.
  
  "I am the Sire of the Drakons," the voice was...primal and dangerous. This was evidently a deity speaking. "I am the Betrayed Guardian. I am the Discordant Voice of the Depths."
  
  The name rang true...and this was clever, because his knowledge was unable to link it to a real name of the Greek mythology.
  
  "And you have decided to ruin my plans and ensure this Great Quest is a disaster."
  
  This time there was a sound...the voice was making the equivalent of a short laugh.
  
  "No, Perseus Jackson. If I had decided to ruin you, you would not be here. You would be dead. This Forge of All Perils, this volcano, this entire island, these foes you slew by the thousands; this was how I decided to test you and your companions."
  
  "This is quite a lethal test, if you allow me the remark."
  
  It wasn't that he cared about the death of many Huntresses, nor the fact Fergus Cook had lost an arm, but the iguana army had not been a joke.
  
  Perseus had to fight seriously, and the same was true about Asterius. The ballista support had also been critical at some moments.
  
  "If you were not strong enough to win this battle, then you have no chance to emerge alive from the next battles you will fight in the Sea of Monsters," the mysterious 'Sire of the Drakons' dismissed the argument haughtily. "And if you aren't able to thrive here, you are of no interest to me."
  
  "Fair," it was at least more honest than Zeus sending him to a Great Quest while hoping he suffered a tragic accident along the way. "How did you know I was sailing for the Forge of Perils? Only one being had that information, and she swore on the Styx the secret would be kept until the Drakon was slain or we were all dead."
  
  His half-sister Rhode had provided so much vital information about the mechanical labyrinth of the Forge that this had been a risk worth taking.
  
  "I created the path which would lead you to acquire the logbook of Francis Drake."
  
  This...this was very bad news. Assuming it was the truth, that implied the Sire of the Drakons was a monstrously powerful Seer, Augur, or some kind of Oracle.
  
  Because while delivering the logbook in an indirect manner could attract his attention, there had been fifty or so islands described in the logbook. Yes, the Forge of All Perils had figured prominently, along with Drake's theories about it when his men never came back...but it wasn't sufficient to guarantee Perseus would come. So unless the Sire of the Drakons had trapped every island Drake ever visited, the problem was very big...
  
  "But it is Fimbulvetr who is Lord and Master here. And the Olympians must have kept an eye on us."
  
  More than an eye, if they had some intelligent left in their divine essences.
  
  "The moment you approached this island, I made sure the Olympians would see nothing but what I allow them to perceive...and the deaths of those who fell in battle." The primal voice declared with obvious satisfaction...then again, if you had the power to do that, you could really feel smug. "And as long as I wish it, I AM the Lord and Master here. Let me prove it to you."
  
  There was...a magical pulse. It washed away the entire cavern, and it smelled like...metal and decay.
  
  When it touched him, Perseus could feel nothing at all.
  
  The same was true about the majority of the Suicide Squad.
  
  But when it hit Fergus Cook, the son of Liber screamed.
  
  "Jackson!"
  
  "Stay away!" The daggers and the flail the moron had taken for himself in the Hall of Trophies were shining in a powerful golden light, and you didn't have to be a Tyrant to know all the curses had just been triggered. "You can't do anything to stop the curses!"
  
  "STOP IT! STOP IT, I BEG YOU!"
  
  The son of Liber screamed as his body twisted, and seemed to break and be twisted by invisible forces.
  
  Perseus winced internally in sympathy...it seemed the 'painless mode' had been deactivated for this transformation.
  
  "STOP IT! PLEASE!"
  
  And then where the left arm had been severed, a large fin grew in its stead, the X-Suit rapidly engulfing the new limb in a gold colour.
  
  Fergus Cook's began to shrink. And as he shrank, his other arm turned into a fin, with the white of the X-Suit becoming glossy gold.
  
  The feet were disappearing, replaced by appendages Perseus recognised...they were after all the same Rico and Skipper had.
  
  The major difference with them is that everything was turning gold, both on the back and the belly. The shades of gold for the former were king of darker, while the 'gold' of the belly was close to white, but it was shades of yellow.
  
  The curse-transformation had to last about two minutes.
  
  When it ended, there was a miniature golden penguin in front of him.
  
  The situation was grave...but deserved to be acknowledged with the seriousness it deserved.
  
  "All HAIL! Suicide Squad, we have a new recruit for our Penguin Infantry!"
  
  "NO! NOT A PENGUIN!"
  
  "Until the end of this battle, your provisional name is 'Goldie the Blonde'," Perseus said magnanimously, "don't thank me, I know-"
  
  "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, JACKSON!"
  
  Unfortunately, the poor 'Goldie' had not the same balance as he did when he was a human...and by trying to rush him, he slammed beak first on the pavement.
  
  The majority of the Suicide Squad reacted appropriately. They laughed and giggled.
  
  Perseus turned back to speak with the entity using the green frozen lake as a medium.
  
  "You have the skill and the power to back your words." The son of Poseidon nodded respectfully. It had certainly not escaped him that a single curse had been triggered. Obviously, the Sire of the Drakons couldn't do anything to Kalinda and Eudoxia, unless he was Hades in disguise: they were dead, and their souls were beyond his reach now. But that left Phoebe, Jade, and Bella Medina in addition to Fergus Cook. And yet he had transformed only one to make his point...maybe something could be salvaged from the previous plan's failure, after all. "You have my attention...and my eternal friendship."
  
  The same primal laughter shook the Forge of All Perils...which was good. Laughter was always better than fury, especially when you had someone who could likely incinerate the entire Suicide Squad with a spark of divine power.
  
  "You are interesting, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "Thank you. What do you want?"
  
  "I want you to spread chaos across the Sea of Monsters," the Sire of the Drakons spoke with some...relish? "I want you to sail towards the most dangerous islands, challenge the greatest foes and curses the Olympians placed here for millennia. I want you to fulfil the bargains you have with the three Goddesses that named you their Champion. I want you to complete victoriously this Great Quest, so that the so-called Master of Olympus is forced to thank you while his essence is nothing but spite and jealousy!"
  
  Definitely some kind of Seer, Augur, or Oracle. That could give him a valuable ally...or an implacable enemy.
  
  "I would have already done that without your intervention, Sire of the Drakons," Perseus said somewhat truthfully.
  
  "No." The powerful being immediately countered. "You wouldn't have. You use dangerous options, but you try to limit the risks to yourself and to your crew. I watched you the moment you sailed from New Byzantium. I know which courses you could have chosen."
  
  That...it shouldn't have been possible. Yes, the Sire of the Drakons had foresight, but to study his moves so extensively and accurately, you didn't need an Augur or an Oracle - which for the record had been extremely annoying to deal with in his previous life - you needed a bloody spy among the Suicide Squad's ranks.
  
  "Oh woe is me," Perseus complained dramatically, telekinetically summoning his combat Trident again. "Suicide Squad, it seems we are betrayed!"
  
  Perseus turned around and prepared for a strike.
  
  Unfortunately, Bella Medina's cursed sword was already transformed into a model of grenade which looked extremely nasty...and the dark shroud around it didn't incite to optimism.
  
  "Curse you," Perseus said cheerfully, all the while summoning his strength to protect himself, "for your vile and unanticipated-"
  
  KABOOOOOOOM!
  
  "-betrayal..."
  
  Bella had not expected the grenade to kill Perseus Jackson, to be honest.
  
  Still, even her low expectations weren't exactly fulfilled.
  
  The long trench the son of Poseidon created in the ice lake was way too theatrical to be an indicator of genuine injuries.
  
  Something that was immediately confirmed as he rose from the frost, with no injuries whatsoever.
  
  "Treachery! Scandalous, elaborate treachery!"
  
  "What a monster..."
  
  I would hurry, if I were you. This boy is a comedian, but he won't hesitate to rip you apart, if only to convince Olympus he is still half-loyal to them.
  
  Yes, Sire.
  
  Bella abandoned weapons and all her possessions, and threw one of her explosive rings on a section of ice which had been left intact.
  
  In a fraction of a second, a large pentacle revealed itself.
  
  The dark-haired daughter of Scotus went to place her boot-covered feet at the heart of the smaller five-pointed star in the core of the pentacle. She cleared her throat. No mistakes would be tolerated.
  
  Bella Medina spoke.
  
  There were thirteen syllables. None of them belonged to any human language. All of them hurt her mouth and her tongue.
  
  And when she finished, it was if she had fought ten battles and run a marathon.
  
  Bella waited.
  
  One flame of utter darkness began to burn where one of the stars ended. Then a second, a third, a fourth. And a fifth.
  
  The flames coalesced, and soon joined each other, creating a circle of raw power that cut her from the rest of the world.
  
  Black sighed in relief. It worked.
  
  It was just in time, for Perseus Jackson struck with his Trident.
  
  There was a loud thunderous sound, but the barrier repelled the attack effortlessly, before spraying black flames as a mechanism of defence. The son of Poseidon jumped away, avoiding once more what would have killed a normal Demigod.
  
  "Jackson! Give the order and I kill this traitor!"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, Grant. Have you seen the power imbued in this circle? We don't have the firepower to break it in a few minutes...and if we did, I have the feeling we would all regret it. Isn't that right, my new favourite treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "It's completely correct," Bella agreed. "Though I'm still pleasantly surprised to see you take it so well."
  
  Darkness swirled, and the feeling of power was amazing in the air.
  
  "You can't exactly be angry when you encourage your subordinates to betray creatively...otherwise you are just a huge hypocrite. I am not."
  
  "That's...good."
  
  And then the boots, the cursed boots that had been waiting for her in the Trophy Hall, simply melted around her feet, as if they were nothing more than another layer of black latex.
  
  It was sliding slickly and fast. For all the fact she had been warned in detail this was going to happen, there was a certain amount of surprise, watching it with her own eyes.
  
  Bones began to crack loudly. Tendons were torn apart. The Demigoddess was quite relieved that there was no pain. Fergus Cook had screamed a lot, and while Bella desired her transformation, she wasn't a masochist.
  
  The toes of her right foot suddenly splayed apart. In a few seconds, it didn't look human anymore. It did not hurt. It did not hurt, but she could perceive what was happening, down to the individual joint snapping. And it was...extremely weird. Her toes were elongated several times their original length, and there was an incredible pressure in their toenails...for good reason, as a second later, they pierced through the air as shiny black talons. Muscles and ligaments were stretched and woven anew to match her lengthening soles.
  
  A moment ago, she had a right foot. Now it was more akin to something you would find a bird of prey.
  
  Bella laughed and opened her mind fully to the transformation.
  
  The black goo which had stayed more or less immobile began to envelop her other leg in its entirety.
  
  Excellent. Surrender fully and the transformation will be perfect.
  
  Yes, Sire.
  
  And answer the son of Poseidon's questions. You won't have much time after it.
  
  Bella watched with curiosity nonetheless as her left foot began to mirror her right. There were the familiar feelings of cracking bones and elongating digits...and it felt good. The symmetry was restored. Her feet were fully transformed into talons, and the black goo rushed to engulf her torso.
  
  "Ask your questions," Bella said as the changes burned inside her body, and smiled.
  
  "Why? You did not look like one of my opponents, nor did you behave as one of the Demigods who believed in my ideas of madness. The arrogant beliefs were nothing but a charade, I know that now. So why?"
  
  "I believe in your cause, Perseus Jackson." She said as the majority of her white X-Suit disappeared, coated by the black fluids which altered the divine material beyond what was supposed possible. "I always intended to join your Suicide Squad. But what He showed me...if nothing was done, you were going to fail. It is not that you aren't powerful and worth following; it's just that the enemies desiring your doom are just too powerful for any mortal to overcome."
  
  "Interesting. But I have many plans, and the majority of them, I didn't share them with you."
  
  "When He came...he showed me. I was shown all your plans. Do you understand?"
  
  "I understand." The son of Poseidon replied. And she was sure he did.
  
  Her entire body tensed. Or rather, it would be accurate to say all her muscles tensed up. Bella was receiving new muscles, as the black substance wove itself between muscles fibres and she knew intimately how much her strength would be bolstered. The Demigoddess had been strong before, but the process altered her to a new level. The clear and lean outlines of muscles below the latex-like substance were simply amazing. For the first time, there was not just satisfaction, but pleasure.
  
  "You would have likely survived this Second Great Quest without my involvement," Bella tried not to moan in pleasure as she talked, "but you would never have survived your Third Great Quest. Your lieutenants wouldn't be powerful enough, and you would not have been pushed far enough in your last reserves of ingenuity and determination."
  
  "This might be true, but what are your betrayal's purposes?"
  
  "I made a bargain with Him...I am the reward, should you impress him sufficiently."
  
  There was new pressure, and this time all her fingers cracked.
  
  Bella watched calmly as they splayed apart, growing at a fantastic speed outward. As her digits lengthened, membranous webbing lined up the space between them. Like with her toes, the large black talons soon erupted from her fingertips.
  
  It was amazing. Those weren't amusing decorations; these were true wings, her wings, that were growing, and with them, she was provided powerful weapons.
  
  "What else are you allowed to tell me?"
  
  Tendrils of night colour shot around her, wrapping her, squeezing certain parts...her body was changing.
  
  No, her body was sculpted into what she was destined to be. The X-Suit was no more, and instead everywhere there was a black shimmering skin accentuating what had replaced her Demigoddess body.
  
  Bella felt sleek...and more confident than she had ever been. She gasped as behind her, a whip-like tail pushed out from the base of her spine.
  
  "You will have to fight Fimbulvetr...and his power has been bolstered, so that it can do what you aspire. Don't die...please."
  
  "I will do my best."
  
  There was more pleasure, and Bella welcomed it, both in her mind and her soul.
  
  The black goo reached up to her neck to change her, and she felt the transformation begin within her head.
  
  For several seconds, there was an enormous pressure in her mouth and her jaw.
  
  This pressure ended as the release came...a release taking the form of a rapidly growing tongue, and she had to open her mouth in full to set it free.
  
  The pleasure and the pressure combined, and one by one, her teeth were pushed out. All her teeth were removed by her new tongue...and a set of sharp fangs replaced them.
  
  "Is the power worth the price?"
  
  Bella felt honestly happy at the curiosity...and managed to answer as the transformation washed over her.
  
  "If it wasn't power...would there be a price?"
  
  Every part of her body was now covered by the black goo...save the eyes.
  
  Her face was pushed forwards into a snout.
  
  And the instincts surged and washed over her mind.
  
  Bella received all the feral urges of the new body she was given.
  
  Ignoring the audience, the former Demigoddess growled and screamed, wishing the transformation to make her complete.
  
  It was changing her mind, after her body. It was changing her soul...and she felt it was divine.
  
  Bella felt the last of her humanity try to resist...and the goo wrapped itself over her eyes, blocking her vision. Writhing under the throes of the pleasurable transformation, she could feel her new ears forming on each side of her head. They were long and powerful, those ears. She could hear every member of the Suicide Squad...yes, even the ones outside the Forge of All Perils. She could hear every living being present on the island.
  
  Her thin black lips peeled back from her pointed snout, baring her gums and fangs. Bella had believed her senses were powerful before; how wrong had she been. The power of her senses now made her feel like she had been deaf and deprived of senses before.
  
  She opened her eyes again, and the mirrors of ice which had been created allowed her to see the two glowing white orbs that shone in the semi-darkness.
  
  The power embraced her, caressed her, and then engulfed her before vanishing.
  
  She screamed in bliss.
  
  And then it was over.
  
  Bella stared at her talons, her body, and her fangs. There was no suit, no second skin anymore.
  
  What she felt, what she saw, it was her flesh and her bones.
  
  She had assimilated the best traits of what had made her a Demigoddess, and now her Sire had perfected by remodelling it with the essence of the bat.
  
  The last of her humanity was gone, and it was a relief.
  
  She was lithe. She was powerful. The feral urges fuelled her, and her mind tightened around them, using them to give herself a new sense of self-control, while using them to master the body she had been given.
  
  "You are Bella Medina no more. From this day onwards, you will be known as Nocturna."
  
  The primal language seized her, gave her purpose. She was given twelve other names inside her mind, and with each of them, Nocturna moaned in pleasure.
  
  "Say your farewells and join me, Nocturna. I have much to teach you."
  
  "Yes, my Sire and Creator."
  
  The dark magic receded, and Richard Grant stared in horror at the...thing Bella Medina had become.
  
  The son of Hercules had seen plenty of Demigods transformed into animals; just the three penguins present in the vicinity were good examples of what could happen if you behave like an idiot with Gods nearby.
  
  But those had been unwilling transformations.
  
  There had been something...something reeking of heresy and blasphemy watching the daughter of Scotus discarding her humanity as if it didn't matter.
  
  And now they had a shiny black bat woman facing them inside the ritual circle.
  
  It was giving him the urge to vomit.
  
  It was not the transformation, it was, it was...
  
  It was that she was positively revelling in her new monstrous nature.
  
  "The Hunt will know no respite until we flay you and send your skin to our Lady's Temple!"
  
  The bat woman chuckled, a sound that seemed human...but you listened to the high tonality, it was well beyond it...and dangerous.
  
  "Oh, Phoebe, Phoebe..." the long tongue of the humanoid bat swirled, as if it tasted the air. "I have gained enough power to not fear the Hunt anymore. There is only one Demigod of the Suicide Squad who can defeat me, and his name is Perseus Jackson."
  
  All eyes turned towards the son of Poseidon, who nodded once in a meditative pose.
  
  "You would present a serious challenge in a fair fight. Of course, I don't fight fair."
  
  The monster which had just been named Nocturna chuckled again.
  
  "True. I must take my leave here." The circle of sheer darkness began to weaken, and the five dark flames of the pentacle flickered and began to die out. "Farewell, Perseus. Farewell, Asterius. We will see each other again. As for the rest of you...muster all your strength and live...or die, I don't really care."
  
  "KILL HER!"
  
  The bat woman gave them an expression of...pity? And then her enormous black wings wrapped themselves around her lithe black body.
  
  The lights died for several seconds. Darkness was everywhere. Then the torches and the weak lights reflected by the light returned.
  
  And when his sword struck the interior of the pentacle, it found nothing.
  
  "Hell and damnation!"
  
  "The Hunt will have its revenge! You think you can flee like that? We will find you! WE WILL FIND YOU!"
  
  The magic of obscurity faded away, as if it had been a bad dream...but it was not.
  
  Bella Medina was no more, as Richard Grant felt deep in his guts that the daughter of Scotus was well and truly gone.
  
  "Okay..." Perseus Jackson cleared his throat as he climbed back the stone stairs to put some distance away from the lake, which was beginning to lose its green shade. "Everyone, please calm down."
  
  "HOW CAN YOU TELL US TO CALM DOWN?" Phoebe screamed. "THE ONE WHO KILLED MY TWO SISTERS AND BETRAYED US GOT AWAY!"
  
  The good news, Richard thought, was that she wasn't accusing Perseus of their deaths anymore...
  
  "Because it will serve no purpose." The son of Poseidon faced the irate Huntress with a courage that was downright impressive. "Nocturna is getting further and further away with every second, and I don't know where she is supposed to go in the first place."
  
  The Huntress glared murderously.
  
  "And besides, given the sheer power her 'Creator' gave her, I am in no hurry to fight her."
  
  The seriousness in the voice of Jackson...seconds ago, Richard had thought he was humouring the bat woman, but now, it didn't appear to be the case.
  
  "Is it that bad?"
  
  "We will have to invent a new name for what our betrayer has become." Perseus spoke in an absent tone. "Right now, the best I can find is 'three-quarters Goddess'. Does that give you an idea of how easily she would transform you into a pile of bloody fragments?"
  
  "How is it possible?"
  
  "Let me remind you that her father is a personification of darkness, even if the deity has faded enormously in power with the last millennium by lack of willing sacrifices. And then the daughter embraced the darkness again, accepting this new predatory form. I don't know who chose the theme, the Sire or the Demigoddess, but it was an incredibly powerful symbol. And then there's the source of power she summoned..."
  
  His voice trailed off.
  
  "And if she returns, what do we do?" Douglas asked.
  
  "Why, you begin a pleasant conversation with the exquisite politeness due to a being that is above you in the food chain, and if she attacks, you run away like hell."
  
  The worst part was that there was no grin, no teasing, and no hint that it was a joke.
  
  "What do we do now, Boss?"
  
  Perseus sighed before giving a look at the lake...who had almost returned to its natural icy splendour.
  
  "Ah, Rico. You and Skipper are going to run to the trebuchets on the upper levels. The ones using the ammunition of the Gamma arsenal."
  
  "But Boss, we want you to-"
  
  The ground shook. No, it did not shake, it seemed to rise above their feet before crashing down...and many stones were thrown in the air, it appeared not to be far from the truth. The area was distorted beyond recognition.
  
  "What...by the Temples of Olympus-"
  
  Richard looked at the frost lake. Or rather what had been a frozen lake.
  
  Because now, an enormous abyss had opened up.
  
  And what looked like an enormous amount of gigantic blades were rising up from it. It felt like a forest of blades, one the likes you only saw in science-fiction movies.
  
  It began to feel cold. For the first time, despite the X-Suit, they were feeling the cold!
  
  "If you want to flee, I don't blame you." Perseus continued calmly, and unlike them all, the son of Poseidon had managed to stay standing, an extraordinary feat as earthquakes shook the entire volcanic cavern. "It is a fight that is a bit beyond you."
  
  "This is a nightmare!" Fergus Cook, his penguin beak giving off a hysterical tone. "Nothing can be...that...big..."
  
  The beast emerged from the depths of the frozen lake.
  
  Richard froze when he saw the head.
  
  Technically, it was more or less an iguana minus the crest.
  
  But no iguana had that sheer vibe of ferocity and toughness. Each black scale seemed to be made to break ten thousands of Celestial Bronze swords.
  
  And the Drakon had many, many scales.
  
  The head was beyond enormous. The fangs alone were the size of an adult Demigod. But the body which pulverised the ice was making a mockery of it.
  
  Even the 'arms' were big enough to be compared to baobab trees.
  
  Each section of the body was armoured to hell and back.
  
  There were black scales, black spikes, natural scales and natural spikes to cover more sections of carapace.
  
  As for the 'legs', the skyscrapers of New York City seemed to have far smaller foundations.
  
  The tail...the tail was long enough that a hundred cars were in length inferior to it.
  
  The penguins ran away, using an old-fashioned train chariot to flee faster.
  
  Richard wished he could do that.
  
  But he was a son of Hercules.
  
  He wasn't going to shame his name and his line. He wasn't a coward.
  
  "Was...the Drakon...supposed to be that big?"
  
  "No..." Perseus Jackson admitted. "He wasn't...I was expecting a third of that, at best. Not what I see here...one hundred and fifty metres tall...and something like one hundred thousand tonnes?"
  
  In other words, if the Drakon decided to play by doing a long jump head first, they were going to die so magnificently there would be nothing but red stains indicating they had been living beings in the first place.
  
  "What do we do now, Jackson?"
  
  "Only one thing, to do Smith!" oh, no, he knew that tone... "FIMBULVETR! MIGHTY DRAKON! LET ME SWEAR YOU MY ETERNAL FRIENDSHIP!"
  
  The super-giant iguana shook its gigantic head as if it couldn't believe someone could be that stupid...and then as its little reptilian eyes narrowed in a very angry manner, Richard cursed under his breath.
  
  "If we survive this, I will kill you Jackson...bare hands only..."
  
  "Promises, promises...avoid all attacks, be they frost or physical, my dear lieutenants. Given the sheer power it radiates, Fimbulvetr will need only one blow to kill you."
  
  And then the spikes on the spine of the monstrous lizard began to blare up with the colour of ice itself. It was as if a thousand Christmas trees had been illuminated, but in ice colour.
  
  In fact, it didn't do it justice, it was if an ice storm wasn't conjured and-
  
  "RRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!"
  
  The roar drowned everything.
  
  It was as if a hundred thousand roars had been added to each other until this one.
  
  The maw of the lizard tyrant illuminated itself like a second sun, and the pipes which had been busy transforming the ice dozens of metres above their heads were covered entirely by a new ice age.
  
  It was the apocalypse, in ice and roars.
  
  It felt incredibly, disastrous cold.
  
  There were earthquakes, monstrous mode. There were ice shards propelled by the thousands in the cavern.
  
  Richard didn't know he stayed standing.
  
  He didn't know, and he didn't care, as his eyes stayed on Fimbulvetr, Ancestral Dragon of Ice, Frost, and Sheer Devastation.
  
  "King of the Monsters..."
  
  "It fits," Perseus nodded. "All Hail the King!"
  
  Richard glared. The son of Poseidon's smirk disappeared.
  
  "Weaknesses?"
  
  "The head and the throat appear to be the only weak points, Grant. Don't bother striking at anything else. Prioritise the eyes or the upper maw."
  
  "You think we can hit the brain in this manner?"
  
  "It's worth trying, at least."
  
  A Trident was raised in defiance. One large double axe, two swords, and two bows joined the symbol of Poseidon.
  
  "SUICIDE SQUAD! LET US GIVE A FIGHT THE GODS WILL REMEMBER FOR ETERNITY!"
  
  They screamed their anger and charged.
  
  It was madness...but it was all they had left.
  
  4 December 2006, Command Room, the Forge of All Perils
  
  "Restore the battlefield video! I want to see what is happening!" Annabeth barked. In her guts, the daughter of Athena felt it was bad.
  
  Jackson and the others had just won the battle against a large army of reptiles, and suddenly every automaton stopped working in the area of the Docks? If it wasn't a bad sign, she didn't know what it was!
  
  "I've found it, the jammer!" Leo proclaimed. "I am changing the power flow...rerouting...now!"
  
  The pyromaniac son of Hephaestus was as good as his word. Two seconds later, all the mirror-like surfaces serving as monitoring screens instantly lit up.
  
  They revealed a scene straight out of hell.
  
  The Drakon had risen up again, after they saw it hours ago diving into the lake and freezing it.
  
  It was a tyrant among reptiles, a king of monsters, and a reactor of frost power.
  
  And there were too few members of the Suicide Squad left standing to feel triumph.
  
  Annabeth had seen Eudoxia and Kalinda die, but she was not seeing Fergus Cook or Bella Medina anymore...or the penguins, though what they could do against this kind of threat, she hadn't the faintest idea. Perseus Jackson, Asterius the Minotaur, Douglas Smith, Richard Grant, Phoebe, Jade. There were six of them...against a Drakon which could likely kill them without paying attention.
  
  Nonetheless, the Suicide Squad charged.
  
  It was courageous.
  
  It was utterly suicidal, and today they made the name of their force proud.
  
  Fimbulvetr roared and blasted half of the lake with a hyper-laser expelled from its monstrous maw.
  
  It missed the Demigods, but it generated a mountain worth of frost and-
  
  There was an abominable screech, and the mountain was pulverised, as Perseus Jackson sliced it with his Trident, before transforming half of the ice into water and surfing on it.
  
  But the Drakon was already reacting. Its enormous tail froze for a second, before going for a simple but devastating rotation in their direction.
  
  Thousands of tons of scales and sheer fury ravaged the battlefield. It was death in its rawest form.
  
  Perseus jumped, using the water to pass effortlessly over the enormous blades of the Drakon's spine. The Minotaur literally...dug his way under the ice to avoid the tail...ad impossibly it worked. The two Huntresses made a series of impressive jumps, and managed to avoid annihilation in this instance. Richard Grant managed to force his way to the tail's spikes by sheer strength and a few brutal jumps that any Olympic athlete would love to imitate.
  
  But Douglas Smith was just not fast enough. One second, he was there. The second the tail crushed the area where he was, and when the frost dissipated over this area, the son of Volturnus was gone, as if he had never existed.
  
  "This...what is this monster?" One Huntress gasped next to her. "It is...not possible..."
  
  The counterattack began. The Minotaur and Jackson had an opportunity, and they exploited it ruthlessly.
  
  The son of Poseidon provided the Hydrokinesis, the Minotaur the brute force.
  
  The double axe of Asterius the Minotaur shone like a comet.
  
  Fimbulvetr saw it, and tried to avoid it.
  
  It was not fast enough.
  
  The axe struck what could be best described as the 'throat' of the mega-reptile, and tore apart several layers of scales.
  
  "YES! IT BLEEDS!"
  
  A river of blue blood flowed out of the terrible wound. They could see the vulnerable flesh underneath. Perseus conjured several spears of water, and hurled them at the new weak point his ally had just made.
  
  And they didn't impact.
  
  The water dissipated harmlessly against growing black scales which hadn't been there a second before.
  
  In fact, everything suddenly...the Drakon seemed to radiate more of this ice aura, and every sign of scarring or injury was disappearing from its black scales.
  
  "You didn't know this was a Drakon-God," the alpha-automaton commented.
  
  "Oh, Gods..."
  
  "Mortals do not stand a chance of victory against this type of opponent."
  
  The Drakon used its hyper-laser of frost again. The battle raged...and Annabeth felt a bit of despair open in her chest.
  
  4 December 2006, the Docks, the Forge of All Perils
  
  They were losing.
  
  They were losing very badly.
  
  Douglas Smith was gone, reduced to nothing.
  
  Richard Grant had disappeared, buried under a mountain of frost.
  
  Unlike the former, Jade didn't believe the latter was dead. Instinct told her the son of Hercules, as arrogant and vainglorious as he was, would not die so easily.
  
  But that meant there were only four of them, and if Jade was honest, only two mattered: the Minotaur and Jackson.
  
  Phoebe and herself? They were just trying to survive in the middle of the devastation.
  
  "Goddess of the Hunt...Lady Artemis...we need your help! This is a divine monster! We need your help!"
  
  Jade jumped, ran away from this infernal tail before she suffered an inglorious death.
  
  Jade prayed and fought.
  
  Surely, the Goddess was going to intervene.
  
  She knew Artemis was listening!
  
  She knew-
  
  Fimbulvetr roared, and hundreds of stalactites fell in a rain of sheer destruction...and then the Drakon accelerated the typhoon of carnage by grabbing part of the lake and throwing it pretty much over the entire cavern.
  
  "ARTEMIS!"
  
  But there was no silver arrows, no salvation. Jade had to dive under a block of ice containing a frozen Greek trireme to avoid the quick death the monster had promised her.
  
  And when she emerged, Jade was filled with a certainty.
  
  Artemis was not coming. Not at this hour, not today...not ever.
  
  And the certainty made Jade angry.
  
  "We swore an oath to you!" the young Huntress shouted. "We are your servants, your silver archers! But it is not one-sided! When the monsters are God-Beasts, you are supposed to answer!"
  
  But only the roar of the Drakon and the desperate attacks of a Minotaur and a son of Poseidon engulfed the cavern.
  
  Artemis had abandoned them.
  
  "Coward..." Jade snarled. "You said all males were useless, all females could be trusted. Well, I have news for you, your Divinity! Perseus Jackson knows countless things you never bothered teaching us, and it was a girl of all people who betrayed us! We are fighting in a Zone Mortalis! AND YOU ARE NOT HELPING!"
  
  Wrath filled her entire being. Memories she had repressed in the depths of her mind.
  
  "Judith and I were abused for years by our father! Did you know what he was doing and only came to kill him when you thought we had the strength and the spirit to join your Hunt? ANSWER ME ARTEMIS!"
  
  It was cold, so cold.
  
  There was nothing to protect her with...there was nothing left but an improbable duo of Demigod and monster, fighting against the King of Monsters himself.
  
  And the Olympian Goddess didn't answer.
  
  "Coward! What kind of exploit can you boast about?" Jade placed back her bow on her back. It was not as if it could do anything with it, save throwing it at the Drakon in the hope the beast died out of laughter. "AN OATH WAS SWORN AND BROKEN! I DENY YOU! I DENY YOUR POWER AND YOUR DOMAIN! I LEAVE THE HUNT!"
  
  "JADE! What are you doing?"
  
  There was a flash of silver, and Phoebe was suddenly before her.
  
  "What I should have done years ago!" the younger Huntress declared. "I see she has just blessed you. How convenient...she must have feared something...I wonder what?"
  
  "Do you think you can betray the Hunt just like you did?"
  
  "The Hunt never stopped betraying the girl I was," Jade retorted. "I was just stupid enough to not see it."
  
  "Then you are damned." The silver arrow began to shine like the Moon itself.
  
  Jade opened her hands, empty...and suddenly there was a snowflake in her right palm.
  
  There was a voice.
  
  The cold drowned out everything, but this time, it was not antagonistic, it was...peaceful.
  
  Strength for strength. Loyalty for loyalty. Oath for oath. The journey will lead you through the ice and the snow. I can't promise you it will be peaceful. But you and your friend will meet again.
  
  "Do it...but know that I will hold to your oath...Goddess..."
  
  "What a pity," Phoebe said in a thoroughly disgusted voice, "you held such promises...I will tell the others you died in battle against-"
  
  She didn't finish her sentence.
  
  Not with the long white spear having just emerged from her chest.
  
  "No..." Phoebe spat, and the silver radiance instantly vanished. "You aren't supposed to be..."
  
  "I was invited." Khione, Goddess of Snow and Ice, said calmly. "And unlike the pathetic child you call your Mistress, I do not hide on Olympus."
  
  The spear was withdrawn, and Phoebe collapsed. She was dead when she hit the ice.
  
  Jade immediately bent the knee.
  
  The Goddess...the Goddess was radiant and armoured for war. There had been rumours of her visiting New Byzantium as an ice skater, but no sign of it was visible of it today. On this battlefield, she was in white plate, though it espoused her body in a very similar manner to the X-Suits the rest of the Suicide Squad had been given.
  
  "Rise up, Jade." Khione said gently. "I am not Artemis. I want a warrior I can converse with freely. I do not need unwilling servants."
  
  "Yes...yes my Lady." Jade stood, and she felt more assured. Her furs disappeared one by one...and as they went missing, a tide of white-blue latex-like material covered her body. It was akin to an X-Suit, and yet she felt it was much, much more than that.
  
  Not only it had an ice theme and black and white markings, it came far more armoured and enchanted.
  
  "Stay on the outskirts and bombard this Drakon with your arrows," Jade inspected her bow, and realised it had been changed too...it was now a majestic bow of winter, and the arrows shone with the power of frost. "I think Perseus and his companion need my assistance."
  
  "By your will, my Lady!"
  
  The battle at last was turning in their favour.
  
  "That doesn't mean, of course, that there aren't points that couldn't be improved..."
  
  Like a certain enormous iguana trying to blast him away with its frost maw attack, for example!
  
  Fortunately, this was the moment the penguins launched the salvo of incendiary projectiles and many automated siege engines of the Forge were reactivated.
  
  For a brief second, Fimbulvetr disappeared in colossal explosions, and when it emerged from it, it was for the first time in fire...and the Goddess used the distraction to impale its tail with five enormous ice spikes.
  
  Perseus jumped and ran until he was by the side of Khione.
  
  "Your arrival was impeccably timed, Lady Khione."
  
  The Drakon roared in fury. This time, they had made it really, really angry.
  
  "I can't stay long, Perseus Jackson. There is flexibility within the rules, yes. But I can't fight for hours here. And the Drakon will not lose an attrition fight; we will be exhausted first."
  
  "Logical," he nodded, "this is a God we are speaking about, after all."
  
  "Your plan had a few holes in it."
  
  "By this point, the plan is not worth the highly valuable parchment I wrote it upon," the former Tyrant replied honestly. "If we don't go for attrition, the only alternative is to strike at the head. It's not a Hydra...kill the head, shatter the divine spark giving it life and power, and God or not, it will die."
  
  A new blast of frost and death came their way. Khione diverted it so that it missed them by several hundreds of metres...and it still felt like a blizzard was trying to freeze them.
  
  "I have not the strike power or the technique to do that." The daughter of Boreas admitted. "And my new Champion is way too young to have that sort of talent."
  
  "Fortunately, Lady Khione, you have me."
  
  "For all your precociousness and the bargain we struck, you are not of Winter and Ice, Perseus Jackson. If I give you a spark of my power, even for a brief moment, it will break you."
  
  "I don't say I'm looking forwards to it," the son of Poseidon bared his teeth and grinned, "but you know what they say among the goblin tribes...only cowards live up to fifteen..."
  
  "You are mad."
  
  "And proud of it." The Drakon broke the ice spears restraining the immense tail and advanced again. "Let's finish this. Asterius will open the way...I leave the rest to you."
  
  Khione nodded, and then her hand touched his left arm.
  
  Kairos was no stranger to pain...but what he felt was agony.
  
  But it was only pain.
  
  His body shone in icy power.
  
  "One last time. Whether they be Gods or all the monsters in Creation."
  
  Perseus Jackson departed like a missile of frost colour.
  
  Khione saw him depart with mixed feelings...before conjuring more ice spears to hurt them at the Drakon.
  
  A Drakon which had grown way too big for her comfort. Seriously, what laziness had seized the favourite daughter of Zeus these days? This godly monster should have been slain long ago! The threat it represented was too extreme!
  
  The Drakon proved it again as projectiles of magma from trebuchets and other machines struck it, and it endured the bombardment with only superficial damage.
  
  But in terms of distraction, it had worked. The son of Poseidon had crossed several hundreds of metres. But now he was getting the full attention of his enemy.
  
  The blast of pure ice energy came, destruction incarnate.
  
  This was the moment the Minotaur struck again, and his axe must have gained some special properties of Drakon blood, for it created an enormous wound on the immense lizard's torso.
  
  Fimbulvetr roared in fury, surprise, and pain.
  
  It tried to crush the Minotaur, but the son of Minos was far too fast, and avoided the clumsy paw strikes.
  
  Perseus Jackson continued his race. He rushed towards the leg of the monster, and much like Hermes at super-speed, the speed fought against gravity...and speed won.
  
  It was like a comet had taken human form...
  
  Khione conjured more ice spears, which forced more distractions for the Drakon.
  
  The son of the Poseidon reached the head...and as the maw opened, the Goddess of Snow saw him launching his Trident.
  
  It was not just launching the weapon, of course. The spark she had given him, the Hydrokinesis, the power of the oceans, his Demigod legacy...everything went into this deadly strike.
  
  The head of the Drakon disappeared into a colossal explosion again.
  
  But this time, when the frost was banished, there was only a fountain of blue gore and carnage waiting.
  
  There wasn't even enough left of the head for a last roar of defiance.
  
  Fimbulvetr, Ancestral Drakon of Ice, stayed immobile for several seconds, as his killer began his fall...and then the God-Beast fell too.
  
  It was a mountain falling, but it fell far, far louder than that.
  
  It was a thunderous sound that felt like the birth of a new Age.
  
  Khione had been right.
  
  For one hundred and thirteen heartbeats, he had wielded the power of Ice.
  
  And it had broken him.
  
  Damn, it really hurt like the mega-iguana had decided to use him as a seat.
  
  Perseus was not going to try to list all the bones broken, the tendons torn apart, the muscles crippled, and the organs about to fail. He was sure it would be easier to count the parts which were functioning correctly. Easier and way faster...
  
  "That was very recklessly heroic of you, short one..." Asterius grumbled.
  
  "Yes, yes it was. Thank you for the catch, my friend." Just saying those words alone caused him more pain. Of course, in this instance, the good news was that he was able to feel the pain. Dead Demigods couldn't feel pain. Ergo, he was not dead...hurrah. "Is that...a pool...made of the Drakon's blood?"
  
  "It is."
  
  "Throw me in it."
  
  Asterius grunted...and then grabbed him. A heartbeat later, and he was in the air.
  
  Perseus uttered the word of command that removed his X-Suit. He landed into the pool that was made by the life-essence of Fimbulvetr.
  
  The sensation was so cold that he couldn't help but scream in pain. Then it began to feel more acceptable...though it stole a few of his breaths. But the former Tyrant could accept that. He could, because as he drowned into the blue blood of his defeated enemy, his bones began to be mended. Every part of his body which had been critically injured was healing. The divine regenerative properties of Drakonic blood had not been exaggerated at all, evidently.
  
  Second after strong, Perseus felt a shadow of his strength return. He was able to move under its own power, at least. That was quite an achievement when a minute ago you were on death's door. He was able to parody some swim moves. That was progress. It was likely going to take him weeks to truly recover from this arduous adventure...but the big part of the healing was done right now.
  
  After some struggle, the green-eyed Demigod managed to move closer towards the edge of the 'pool'...which had grown larger and larger while he was in it. From the Drakon's corpse, immobile gargantuan shadow of destruction, the powerful blood was flowing in an enormous cascade to his right, with all the natural consequences it implied.
  
  "You should come, Asterius. It is a bit freezing, but one can get used to it."
  
  "I'm staying where I am, short one!"
  
  Perseus sighed. Sometimes he really didn't understand how Asterius thought...
  
  "Was it your plan from the very beginning?"
  
  Khione entered his limited field of vision. Thankfully, the white-armoured Goddess was more amused than angry. Jade was by her side too.
  
  "It was a contingency I hoped I wouldn't have to use so soon." Unfortunately, the alternatives were death or a long period of convalescence in one of the Zones Mortalis. This was like choosing plague and typhus. "But I was a bit too damaged by this reckless heroic attack, as Asterius called it...and so I had to imitate Siegfried."
  
  And yes, this was this legend from the other side of the Atlantic that Perseus had taken as inspiration. Treasures from Dragons and Drakons had to be purified before any use could be made of them. But the blood? The blood of these legendary reptiles was raw power in liquid form, and could make you invulnerable to all mortal and Demigod-forged weapons...with some drawbacks and exceptions.
  
  "You lost much in order to accomplish this incredible deed, Perseus Jackson."
  
  Looking back at his reflexion, there was no need to ask what she was referring to. Perseus was older. He had always looked older than his true age, but this time, he was really older. At a guess, he had lost between one and two years of life. His looks couldn't really be distinguished from a teenager of fifteen now.
  
  "Power...it always comes with a price." And while the price was not cheap...the power was worth it. The Drakon was gone, meaning the Forge of Perils was his to claim. The blood of Fimbulvetr was giving him the equivalent of a lesser Curse of Achilles, albeit one not as cursed as the waters of the Styx. That alone made the journey to this island an incredible success...no matter how many plans had been screwed up in the process.
  
  "Does the price come with an Achilles' heel?"
  
  "I am not stupid, my Lady." Those who didn't leave a fatal weakness for the opposition to exploit generally tended to have the fatal weakness chosen for them by others in 'destiny moments'. One had only to look at the hero Siegfried as a cautionary tale.
  
  Seriously, having your weak point in the back where your eyes couldn't even see it was a recipient for disaster if there ever was one.
  
  His weak point, on the other point, was his navel. That way, he could don a cuirass or some other form of enchanted protection over his torso, paint it in orange, and have no one ask incredibly moronic questions.
  
  The power poured out, and the blood suddenly began to burn in blue flames, as not only the magma pipes were finally able to warm up the Docks, but the Heart revealed itself.
  
  The Heart.
  
  It was describing the truth, and yet it did not do it justice.
  
  It was a crystal of power turned into an organ. It was power turned into art. It was divine and elemental. It was ice and yet it was beyond that. It called frost and snow, but it remained a law by itself.
  
  And it was coming slowly in his direction.
  
  "You should come and take a bath."
  
  "You could claim the Heart, you know." There was something in Khione's voice...ah, she feared he was going to break the accord they had, now that he had the artefact which could let him ascend as a God.
  
  "I could." There was no point pretending the contrary; no one would believe the lie. "But you know the Heart is only one of tri-divine essence of the fallen Titaness of Drakons. If I ascended like that, I would be incredibly flawed...vulnerable...and beastly. You, on the other hand, have already divine essence. You will be able to counterbalance it...if you go with the plan, of course."
  
  Khione looked at him...and then decided herself when the Heart went to place itself in his hand.
  
  "Jade. Do not intervene. What is going to happen...is what must happen. Perseus and I have an accord."
  
  Khione disrobed and marched into the pool of blood. It was good, because the contact of the Heart was really painful...the artefact was trying to drain him from his warmth and vitality.
  
  "You will speak with your father?" For all her Goddess status, Khione seemed incredibly vulnerable as her white skin disappeared in the blue liquid, and her black hair were loosened. "Tell him I regret what I did."
  
  "I will pass the message."
  
  He used his Hydrokinesis...and the Pomegranate Seed fell in the life-essence of Fimbulvetr.
  
  There was one heartbeat...and Khione caught it.
  
  There was no hesitation. The Goddess of Snow and Ice put to her lips...and swallowed...before immediately coughing.
  
  "By everything polluted! The taste is awful!"
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "Well, it was for the stratagem, not the taste of the fruit..."
  
  Khione used her powers to rise slightly over the blood's surface, and presented her snow-coloured naked chest.
  
  "I feel it...do it. Do it, before-"
  
  Perseus struck. With his left hand, he used as much power as he could without burning himself, and he coalesced it into an incredibly deadly blade.
  
  It cut deep the Goddess, and something not meant for mortal eyes shone.
  
  Perseus closed his eyes, and his other hand pushed the Heart into the wound just created.
  
  There was a gigantic explosion.
  
  Perseus was caught in the shockwave, and once again, he blessed Drakonic blood for its regenerative properties, otherwise it would certainly have killed him. Again. Seriously, he needed to find calmer hobbies...
  
  The black-haired Demigod was disoriented for several minutes. But at some point, he had to resurface...the regeneration speed was cut short, and the blood was getting hellishly cold.
  
  As he left the lake, Perseus could see that this part had gone according to the plan.
  
  There was a massive 'egg' at the centre of the 'blood lake'. The scales of the egg were black, same as the ones of Fimbulvetr, but the joints between the scales? Those were burning in ice-coloured light.
  
  Jade went to watch by his side.
  
  "This is beautiful...the power, I can feel...the changes..."
  
  Of course she felt them. Now that she was tied to Khione, the ex-Huntress was going to share some of the blessings of her divine patron.
  
  "The King is dead." Perseus proclaimed loudly. "All Hail the Future Queen! All Hail Khione, Lady of Drakons, Goddess of Ice, Snow, Blizzards, and Hell Winter!"
  
  The blood flow diminished and ended. In mere seconds, the pool of blue blood dried up.
  
  Then clouds of darkness appeared with a gust of wind, and created a vortex of darkness. It swallowed slowly but surely the egg before closing and disappearing.
  
  "I don't understand! What happened?"
  
  "There are many beings which have zero interest in seeing a Goddess claim part of the Power of Drakons for herself. And unfortunately for her, Khione will be incredibly vulnerable when she's in this transition stage. This is why I gave her the Pomegranate Seed. It allowed her to be claimed by the Lord of Underworld...who in exchange of her allegiance, will protect her during her long period of transition."
  
  It would also make Persephone insanely jealous, for while Hades had not made any kind of marriage commitment where Khione was concerned...well, women could be really frightening creatures.
  
  "This is quite a complicated plan."
  
  "The previous one was way simpler. But a lot of betrayals ruined it. And...well, I had to adapt."
  
  He would have loved continuing this confirmation...but everything was melting...the lake of the Forge of All Perils was at last returning to its proper state.
  
  Water was flowing in bright cascades, the temperatures rose, and Perseus admitted it was extremely pleasant after all this frost and cold.
  
  There were so many pieces of wood beginning to float that it was child's play to combine several of them and use them as a large surfboard. Then he used his Hydrokinesis to place Asterius and Jade on them.
  
  A second later, for all his less-than-stellar health, Perseus could lead his trio towards the Forge's docks...or whatever remained of them, at least. The apocalyptic battle had really ruined what millennia of Drakon domination had not.
  
  A good surprise waited for them, in the form of Richard Grant, who was dragging himself out of the lake.
  
  "This was utterly crazy..." the son of Hercules did not seem gravely injured, but his exhaustion was obvious. "Even for you, Jackson."
  
  "I know. But it leads me to a realisation."
  
  "A realisation?"
  
  "Yes, a realisation."
  
  Perseus watched as three familiar penguins were returning to the Docks, running as fast as their limbs could bear.
  
  In the distance, he could hear the great gates of the Forge of All Perils opening. Soon enough, the expressions of surprise of the Suicide Squad's Blocking Force resonated, as they discovered the devastation first. Then they saw the corpse of the gigantic Drakon. There were acclamations, shouts of an incredibly varied number of emotions.
  
  They were not the only ones watching, of course.
  
  They were watching. Olympus was watching.
  
  And the best part? Right now, they couldn't touch him.
  
  Thus Perseus did what he would never have dared a day ago.
  
  "My lieutenants, partner-in-crimes, allies, betrayers, and profiteers of war," the former Tyrant grinned, seeing no reason to hide his joy anymore. "The God-Drakon failed to kill me, like everything else. The logical conclusion can't be denied. I AM INVINCIBLE! BWHAHAHAHAHA!"
  
  Perseus was still cackling like a madman when a certain daughter of Hecate slapped him.
  
  27 November 2006, Dionysus' Palace, Olympus
  
  Dionysus couldn't stop laughing.
  
  It was just too funny.
  
  It was madness.
  
  It was brilliant.
  
  It was insanity at its finest.
  
  It was...it was...
  
  It was unprecedented.
  
  "All hail Perseus Jackson, Drakon-Slayer...or is it Godzilla-Slayer?" the God of Wine watched for several seconds the mangled corpse of Fimbulvetr before shrugging. "Let's go with Godzilla-Slayer. It sounds better to my ears. Wow, what an epic battle! What madness! I think I am going to put it on all mortal social media and pass it as a movie under development! God-Tube and the rest are going to get absolutely crazy! I wouldn't be surprised if we didn't get our first five billion views in twenty-four hours!"
  
  There was a sound vaguely similar to the clearing of a throat.
  
  Dionysus turned his head, and his eyes met Arianne's. Sky and Hell, she looked even more beautiful than usual today...and she was rising an amused eyebrow at the holographic display showing the interior of the 'Forge of All Perils' - yes, the Perseus-given name had stuck.
  
  "I assure you, Arianne," the God of Debauchery and Madness placed a hand above the place where mortals kept their hearts. "I played no part in this madness. I am innocent."
  
  "Oh, I know." His wife smiled. "I can recognise your style, and this isn't it." And then she raised a finger in an ironic finger. "Still, I think you best prepare for the storm. You and every member of the Council. Your father went to fornicate with a few nymphs, but I am sure he is going to return to his Temple in a few minutes, and when he will..."
  
  There were many sayings about not tempting Fate...or the Fates.
  
  Dionysus had just the time to reflect on how angry and unhappy his divine sire was going to be about those events when a terrifying scream of rage rocked Olympus.
  
  "HE DID WHAT? NO! NO HE WOULDN'T DARE! WHERE IS MY MASTER BOLT! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE RESPECTED THE RULES? RAAAAAAAGGHHHHH!"
  
  On a scale from one to one hundred, they were at least at level 99: Enraged, Mad, and on a Major Rampage.
  
  "EMERGENCY COUNCIL IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! DO NOT BE LATE! NO EXCUSES WILL BE ACCEPTED! DAMN IT POSEIDON! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING CREATING THIS UNHOLY SPAWN?"
  
  Dionysus stopped breathing...not that he really needed to, but the thunderous voice had been...really, really powerful.
  
  "I have a feeling," Dionysus gave his wife a thin smile, "that it is going to be a Council to remember. The Lord of Olympus is...a bit unhappy."
  
  And since it was one of the understatements of the century - which had really just begun - why not add one another?
  
  "This Great Quest has not necessarily proceeded according to Olympus' plans."
  
  Author's note: The madness will continue in the next update, which is tentatively titled: Interlude 3 NOT Part of the Plan.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen (by order of death):
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber: now transformed into a golden penguin
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and swore herself to Khione
  
  More links for this story:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Interlude NOT Part of the Plan
  Chapter 19
  
  Interlude 3
  
  NOT Part of the Plan
  
  "When in doubt, escalate!" Attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  "You think you have a good idea of my tactics because I have dealt with this overgrown iguana? Let me disabuse you of that ridiculous idea. I am unpredictable, and I am going to prove it to you immediately!" Attributed to Perseus Jackson, authenticity never confirmed.
  
  4 December 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Hermes hadn't the brains of his half-sister Athena, but the moment he entered the Throne Room, he could tell that was going to be one of those Council sessions.
  
  You know, the ones which sounded really funny when you were thousands of kilometres away from them.
  
  As if an omnipotent power had heard his thoughts, Dionysus appeared on his throne, and his first deed was to conjure a cascade of wine to fill far too many cups to be counted.
  
  "I want to raise a toast," the God of Wine said in a voice that wasn't slurry or hesitant at all, "to the craziest Demigod of this generation! To begin his Great Quest, he went to hell and back! As his second opening move, he slew a Drakon even some Gods would have hesitated to fight! All Hail Perseus Jackson! I would not be a proper God of Madness if I refuse to acknowledge his victories...and I vigorously submit a request to make him immortal as soon as possible!"
  
  "Request denied," Zeus thundered as he appeared on his throne. "This sea spawn must be punished, not rewarded."
  
  "Err...yes, concerning this subject," the God of Thieves cleared his throat. "Your dark brother has...err...given me a letter...for your eyes only."
  
  The glare was murderous, and it didn't improve when the Master of Olympus began to read.
  
  "Ridiculous! Given the number of laws he has broken, this malicious boy deserves death!"
  
  It was perhaps for the best Poseidon had yet to enter the Council Room. Then again, Hades would likely have not sent the message without his other brother's support.
  
  "Actually, he didn't." Athena disagreed, earning the ire and the glares of their genitor. "The Ancestral Drakon's island was the target for a proper Great Quest two centuries ago. It was the last time we sent someone there, as there was no point sacrificing Demigods for no gain. But the Great Quest was never rescinded, and Perseus Jackson used the proper paperwork channels after gaining the approval of the Senate."
  
  "And the creation of this abomination Hell's Reach Gate? There is no proper paperwork for it!"
  
  "No," the Goddess of Wisdom conceded, "but there is no law against it either. We never thought a Demigod would be able to create an entrance in a Zone Mortalis without our assistance; as a result there are no Divine Laws, Ancient or New, forbidding someone to do it."
  
  "New Laws will have to be promulgated, evidently."
  
  No one dared saying no. That said, Hermes thought it was a bit like trying to protect the henhouse once the fox had feasted and fled. Perseus Jackson and the Suicide Squad's opening gambit had succeeded, and there was no more need to create another entrance.
  
  Furthermore, the son of Poseidon had proved the concept was feasible to all, meaning some enemies who didn't care at all about the proclamations of Olympus would try to replicate the feat sooner or later.
  
  "If they can't be punished for the insane strategy, they can be punished for the crimes this male committed against my Huntresses!" Artemis snarled, her initial facade of neutrality utterly gone.
  
  Dionysus...yawned. And Hermes braced for a devastating impact.
  
  "Your Huntresses received exactly what they deserved."
  
  "I dare you to repeat-"
  
  "You heard me the first time," the God of Madness' eyes flashed with an extremely dangerous purple light. "I have been given prime exclusivity for some videos of the Suicide Squad the moment they were in view of the Forge of All Perils. Perseus Jackson warned your Huntresses they had to don the X-Suits and follow his orders. Except one, they did their best to disobey as often as possible. They played for stupid prizes, they died for it. To misquote a certain Demigod, it's the Sea of Monsters, not the Sea of Tourists!"
  
  "They must be punished!"
  
  "Who is the 'they'?" Athena asked...her voice betraying for some curiosity for once. "The first Huntress was killed by Chrysaor. Given how the Queen of the Seas handled him, I don't exactly know what can be done to make his punishment worse than it already is. The next two girls died fighting against an army of lesser Drakonic parasites. Those were avenged rather quickly."
  
  "I speak," Artemis hissed, hatred devouring everything, "of this parvenu of a Goddess! She slew my lieutenant!"
  
  "Not so parvenu anymore," Dionysus replied with a smirk that was sure to make things worse, not better, "I note that you didn't rush to the Forge of All Perils to challenge her for this offense."
  
  "Now, now, Dionysus," Aphrodite smiled innocently, "it isn't like it's something notable." Then the dagger was really pushed into the metaphorical wound. "After all, she didn't answer the prayers of a desperate Huntress in the first place. It was so bad that this poor girl decided to accept the Goddess of Ice and Snow's blessings."
  
  "What have you said, you whore?"
  
  "You heard me the first time, virgin." Aphrodite bared her perfect teeth. "One of your divine prerogatives is to hunt monsters. Unlike the majority of us, you could have intervened any time you wanted to slay this Ancestral Drakon. Why didn't you?"
  
  "She didn't intervene because I ordered her not to," Zeus thundered, saving his precious daughter's honour. "I made it clear that no divine help was to be provided."
  
  That was...that was somewhat the truth, yet it wasn't the complete truth. For example, Zeus had been busy fornicating and doing other pleasurable things when the last battle raged; there was no way he could have given the order to Artemis.
  
  No, there was something else. But good luck trying to guess exactly what, given how Artemis now gave them an expression that the stones would likely envy.
  
  "I want her to be punished." Artemis said stubbornly. "She slew my lieutenant. Who does she think she is?"
  
  "She thinks she is the Goddess who was granted an opportunity to break the chains that made her a lesser deity," Dionysus replied in a far more conciliatory tone. "While it is possible Hades will not make her his Queen, after absorbing the power she did, the daughter of Boreas is a new force to be reckoned with. If I were you, I wouldn't insult her. Her new domain will include Ice Drakons, and in the future, she will bend the knee before Hades. It would be prudent to be...polite."
  
  Artemis' flashed in hated, but she didn't say a word.
  
  "Sister," Apollo intervened, "this is not so different that what happened every day on the Trojan battlefields. One of us empowered a Champion too much, and the God supporting his adversary intervened directly. If Ares was here today, he would likely remind each and every one of us of that."
  
  "No punishment will incite others to go for treachery and defiance!"
  
  "Then go to the Underworld and tell Hades you want justice," Aphrodite suggested innocently. "I'm sure it will be well-received."
  
  If Artemis could have killed the Goddess of Love just by glaring at her, it would have happened in a heartbeat. As every member of the Council present knew very well, Hades was never going to accept that...and that was assuming he gave Artemis the permission to plead her cause in person, which wasn't bloody likely, in Hermes' opinion.
  
  "It is outrageous my brother didn't ask for my permission before letting the Goddess of Snow fall under his sovereignty," Zeus rumbled. None of his children decided to comment upon the hypocrisy of doing so. Olympus had certainly never asked for the permission of Atlantis or the Underworld. "Are there any reliable Demigods who survived?"
  
  Athena nodded.
  
  "Richard Grant, son of Hercules, is likely now the most reliable Demigod we have in the Suicide Squad. The reports of the Huntresses bear so little resemblance with reality I am only using them very sparingly." The Protector of Athens superbly ignored Artemis' dark expression. "The son of Liber could be relied upon to provide reports in exchange of various rewards, but he's a penguin now. I don't think I will receive a lot of information from that direction any longer."
  
  Dionysus cackled demonically, only stopped by the silent order of the Master of Olympus.
  
  "As far as the strategic situation is properly analysed," the Goddess of Wisdom continued, "it is obvious that the Questers fell into an extremely elaborate trap. Without incredible bravery and Khione's intervention, it is very likely all of them would have perished before a tactical withdrawal could be attempted."
  
  "You make it sound so noble," Artemis childishly remarked.
  
  "I'm doing nothing of the sort. I'm telling you that if we had sent a Legion inside the Forge, right at this hour, we would be watching a mountain of Roman Demigods' corpses."
  
  "And what of the one who made this trap possible?" the God of Trade and Thieves preferred to intervene before they began a shouting match...again. "The Demigoddess...Bella Medina, is it?"
  
  Yet as he uttered the name, there was a feeling of wrongness. Like there was nothing left of the girl...which was a very unpleasant sensation, and not just because of its implications.
  
  "Scotus has faded away," Athena bluntly told them. "I don't know how much of him returned to the Primordial Darkness or how long ago it happened, but there is nothing left of him. It's highly likely his last significant deed on this world was to sire his daughter...which raises very interesting questions about her existence, and why she volunteered for the Suicide Squad."
  
  It was true. And it wasn't the only concerning thing. Unlike the rest of the affair, they had absolutely no video of the transformation the daughter of Scotus had undergone after her betrayal was revealed. All they had right now consisted of Richard Grant's report, for no other survivor had chosen to share what he or she saw. Granted, it might be a bit much to expect Perseus Jackson to share what he knew, as Zeus tried to regularly kill him...
  
  "This creature, this...Nocturna will be found and eliminated." Zeus commanded. "I am formally placing a Kill Order upon her head. Artemis, you will take care of the bounty."
  
  "With great pleasure, father." The Goddess of the Hunt bared fangs of a predator.
  
  "That doesn't tell us the identity of this mysterious enemy, however." Athena noted. "The title is significant, but no one ever used it openly before."
  
  "It is a deity, at least in terms of power," Demeter chose to speak for the first time, "this 'Sire' could cloud our sight, tame the Ancestral Drakon, transform someone into a hybrid of a woman and an animal, turn a powerful curse into a penguin transformation, and it wasn't present in person to begin with."
  
  "The Titaness? She is in the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "No. It's definitely not her style."
  
  "And the Ancestral Drakons? There are two others!"
  
  "About that..." Hermes really, really hated being the bearer of bad news. "They are gone. The islands they were using as their lairs in the Sea of Monsters are empty. The Drakons are nowhere to be found; I don't know where they are, but it's not in this Zone Mortalis anymore."
  
  "More treasons," the God of Lightning was very unhappy.
  
  "And more evidence the trap was prepared weeks before it was unleashed against the Questers." Athena commented, unsurprised. "It raises the question however how powerful those two Drakons have become while we weren't paying attention. Fimbulvetr was far too powerful; clearly this mysterious 'Sire' had a part in that. If the two others are worse than the Ice Drakon-"
  
  "They must be eliminated at once." Zeus finished in conclusion. "Apollo! Artemis! One of your duties from this day onwards is to track and slay these overgrown reptiles! Find wherever they hide, and kill them with extreme prejudice!"
  
  "Yes, father."
  
  "As you command."
  
  "And I will make it clear once more: none of the Gods and Goddesses that are loyal to Olympus are to help this group of Questers that call themselves the Suicide Squad! I don't care how many promises and bribes the sea spawn gives you, you are utterly forbidden to help him! Or you will be on the receiving of my Master Bolt, and Hera's punishment will seem a merciful kindness to you!"
  
  Aphrodite pouted; Dionysus emptied more cups of wine. Hermes had a feeling that the King of the Gods had just pushed them to continue their support in a covert manner...
  
  4 December 2006, somewhere in the Sea of Monsters
  
  One of the greatest advantages about being a Telekhine was undoubtedly the shapeshifting ability.
  
  Yes, nature had not blessed them at first, with these large and ugly dog heads, but who cared?
  
  They could change.
  
  And change they had.
  
  When you could become elegance and lethality in a single body, why would you stay in a body which make sure everyone noticed your ugly mutt?
  
  Oh, there were a few traditionalists out there who refused to alter their appearance, but they were few and far between.
  
  Seriously, who would be caught looking like a horrid hybrid of sea lion, twisted dog, and mutated human when you could embrace the noble form of the Great White Shark?
  
  Well, a modified body of Great White Shark, to say the truth.
  
  The Telekhines had made themselves indispensable in the field of weapon manufacturing, they could hardly remain with unwieldy appendages. As such, their fins had been modified into sturdy and muscled arms with proper claws. That way they could work their metal and wield weapons properly, while their ability to fight underwater remained unmatched. Naturally this had demanded large-scale modifications of their workplaces, but after a few decades, no one thought about it anymore.
  
  A sonorous melody of the shark movie he enjoyed above all came to disturb these pleasant thoughts. To his displeasure, it was his personal line. By all the fangs of the sea, he really hoped it wasn't Hermes again! He couldn't stand this harassment of telephone marketing.
  
  "Yes?" The Godfather of all Telekhines grunted.
  
  "Don Lino!" A familiar voice every Telekhine of the Family had learned to be wary recently echoed in his private quarters. "It is I, your eternal friend!"
  
  "Perseus Jackson!" the Ancient Telekhine wondered for a couple of seconds how Poseidon had managed to sire such a crazy Demigod, before admitting he didn't want to know the answer to.
  
  "In the flesh, Don Lino."
  
  "What do you want?" the Godfather asked, centuries of experience returning his iron-clad control. "I was very clear the last time."
  
  "I suggest you to turn on Atlantis Seanews Network, if you have a second to spare."
  
  For a second, the Head of the Family was tempted to end this conversation, but curiosity told him there might be something worth his time. Thus he followed the suggestion...and froze.
  
  For once the holographic water-screen had materialised, the Godfather recognised immediately where an excited Atlantean journalist had chosen to broadcast. These immense docks, this large volcanic cavern, it was...
  
  It was the Forge of the Ancient Telekhines. The Forge of his ancestors! But how was it possible? The monster that had chased them away was impossible to kill, be it by blade or any modern weapon!
  
  As if to answer his thoughts, the holo-cameras pivoted, and Don Lino was delivered the side of the Ancestral Drakon's corpse, minus most of its head.
  
  "As you can see," the Atlantean journalist spoke with a smile that wasn't fake in the slightest, "the Suicide Squad has indeed accomplished the impossible, and killed the supposedly invincible Fimbulvetr! Glory to the Suicide Squad! This message was sponsored by Perseus Jackson, leader of the Great Quest, approved by Atlantis, the Underworld...and Olympus."
  
  "Well?" the voice at the other end of the communication device was insolent...but for once, Don Lino was going to let the Demigod get away with this.
  
  "You have the Forge under your control." The Godfather of the Telekhine Family acknowledged out loud. "What do you want?"
  
  "The Forge must be turned into an impregnable fortress as quickly as possible, and weapon production must resume with all celerity. It would be a shame to slay the Drakon only for another squatter to occupy the place, wouldn't you agree?"
  
  "On that much, son of the Earthshaker, we are in agreement." It had taken close to two millennia for Fimbulvetr to be slain; another opportunity like this one might never return.
  
  "Good. I had the skill and the firepower to kill the Drakon; you have the Telekhine effectives and the Forge-lore to return the Forge of All Perils to its full production capacity. These are nice foundations for a proper partnership, would you agree?"
  
  "I presume," the Godfather spoke calmly, "you want the Forge's ownership and certain quotas to be fulfilled."
  
  "I would prefer we speak of it in person. I've no doubts your communications are secure, but better not to tempt some of the deities we have good reasons to be wary about."
  
  "True." The Demigod, for all that he acted like he had the wish to die incredibly young, was clearly no fool. But even if he was, Don Lino would likely have agreed for proper negotiations and contracts. "I am sending my son Frankie with a large Honourable Squadron to the Forge. He will follow your recommendations until I arrive in person to talk with you. Is it acceptable, Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "It is acceptable, Don Lino. It is a pleasure to do business with you."
  
  The communication ended, and the Godfather of the Telekhine Family swam out of his private quarters to give out new orders.
  
  He had just been given a chance to restore the Family to its true glory, and by all the coral barriers of the Sea of Monsters, he wasn't going to miss it!
  
  5 December 2006, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  There was something incredibly funny about watching the daughter of Hecate fussing over their insane leader. Well, Lou Ellen Blackstone was doing that when she wasn't glaring at him.
  
  But it was still extremely funny, to see a sorceress behave like a mother hen when the exhausted madman was concerned.
  
  "Yes, yes, I will behave," that was a lie, but the two sorceresses let it pass, as Perseus Jackson decided at last to stay on the massive blue throne that served as his seat in the self-proclaimed 'Grand Strategium of the Forge of All Perils'. "You have had the time to review most of the videos of our glorious battle. What do you think, your Dreadful Majesty?"
  
  "I think that all those who still breathe right now are very lucky to be alive." Bianca replied bluntly.
  
  "True, and?"
  
  The former Dread Empress watched the green-eyed boy attentively. In many ways, Perseus Jackson had emerged both weaker and stronger from his crazy battle with the Ancestral Drakon.
  
  Why he was weaker was obvious. Pale, visibly exhausted, the leader of the Suicide Squad had lost a couple of years of life, and was likely going to need several weeks before being battle-ready once more.
  
  But he was also stronger. His skin had now more or less gained the same sheer level of resilience as the Curse of Achilles, and that was just the 'evident blessings'. Slaying a giant Drakon bigger than a skyscraper had imbued him with power beyond Demigod level, and his eyes had gained some mesmerising ability while his voice and his moves had benefitted in ways that hadn't been there before. Perseus was definitely more charismatic, and it wasn't just because of how everyone was in awe about his Drakon-slaying. It did not take much to guess that in all likelihood, his Hydrokinesis and Cryokinesis had been significantly empowered compared to the levels accessible to him before the battle.
  
  "Your plan seems to have worked out in the end, even if the battle was far more desperate than it was supposed to be," the former Dread Empress acknowledged. "You gained your equivalent of the Curse of Achilles, and lost only a few Huntresses and some expendable warriors in the process."
  
  "Indeed." Perseus grimaced. "I would have preferred not to lose Douglas Smith like we did, he proved to have a relatively good head on his shoulders, but what is done is done. We must continue, and ensure the lessons paid in blood are learned."
  
  "And what are these lessons?" Lou Ellen asked with a smile that was really vicious. "That you must stop your theatrical lies and trust us a bit?"
  
  "Now what would be the fun in-"
  
  The hands the daughter of Hecate placed on the shoulders of the son of Poseidon must exert a lot of strength, because the ex-Tyrant yelped in surprise.
  
  "Yes, yes, that's one of the lessons." Could Bianca repeat how funny she found the whole scene? "But a far harsher one is that without the equivalent of a divine gift like the Curse of Achilles or something offering high regeneration powers, the butcher bill is going to be monstrous."
  
  Unfortunately, there was no grin or smile to accompany these words.
  
  "Is it that bad?" Bianca di Angelo asked, as many automatons around them were busy modifying the vast hall so that it became a command centre according to the son of Poseidon's exacting specifications.
  
  "It is probably worse, all things considered." Perseus replied honestly. "If we ignore the three Questers in this Grand Strategium, our forces are awfully squishy when it comes to large-scale battles. Asterius is tough and death is not an inconvenience for him. Jade is going to gain a lot of advantages from her new allegiance. But the rest? Officers or non-officers, this is all the same problem: a single mistake, an enemy that is a perfect counter for their abilities, and they die in a second."
  
  "Aren't you a bit pessimistic?" Lou Ellen shook her head.
  
  "My dear sorceress lieutenant," the black-haired boy huffed, "the Sire of Drakons didn't even have to trigger a single curse to get Huntresses Kalinda and Eudoxia killed. And for all their fanatical behaviour, the members of the Evil Lesbian Cult are rather skilled at defeating low and mid-level monsters. They were easily overwhelmed during their first real battle. And let's not pretend many of our officers would have survived if they had decided to take their place."
  
  That was...a good point, Bianca had to acknowledge. Sure, Luke Castellan and Ethan Nakamura would have endured the iguana onslaught, but younger and less experienced Demigods like Leo Valdez or Michael Yew might not have lived another day.
  
  "I suppose you have a plan to correct that."
  
  "I have plans, yes." The son of Poseidon admitted before grimacing. "I hoped I wouldn't have to use them so soon, though."
  
  "Why? I will give you that most of the ones you used are completely crazy, but you have given us an entrance into the Sea of Monsters and a base of operations. By the way, congratulations on achieving the 'blizzard' part of the Underworld transformation."
  
  "Thank you! But it proves we saw only a possible future, unfortunately. We have no chance of achieving the 'magma' part."
  
  "Why?" Lou Ellen raised an eyebrow. "I assume you have to kill another Ancestral Drakon...the magma cousin of the big lizard you just slew, if I have to guess."
  
  "The guess is good, the implementation is impossible," Perseus sighed. "This infuriating lizard is nowhere to be found. Apparently, the Sire of Drakons warned them to hide ahead of schedule. Fimbulvetr was sacrificed for the cause, but the two others disappeared. But I am not that disappointed."
  
  "Oh, and why that?"
  
  "I am not disappointed because we stand no chance against these two Drakons."
  
  That was...quite an affirmation, all right.
  
  "You engineered the death of one."
  
  "Yes." Perseus admitted. "Because Khione helped me. You have seen how the two idiot Huntresses were twisted by their brief stay inside the Forge. What do you think will happen to an expeditionary force without X-Suits?"
  
  "But we have the X-Suits..." then Bianca understood and grimaced in turn, "the suits are only good against magical monsters using frost and ice powers, aren't they?"
  
  "You have perfectly summed-up the problem. It should have been more a precaution than anything else, for Fimbulvetr wasn't supposed to be powerful. Unfortunately, it has become a basic requirement if you don't want to be cursed and die in mere minutes."
  
  And against a Magma Drakon, they would need a God of Fire...and the only one which might have helped was prisoner in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Not that it was that much of a problem, really, since they didn't know where the Drakon was in the first place.
  
  "Okay, we ignore that part of the plan." Bianca licked her lips. "This Sire of Drakons is a very big problem."
  
  "I fully agree with you." For a few seconds, Perseus Jackson looked...haunted. And as the automatons' first actions had been to use some sort of crystals to give them perfect lighting in the Grand Strategium, Bianca was sure it wasn't her imagination. "He ruined a beautiful plan, and someone not allied with us having an extremely developed ability to see the future is a massive headache. Worse, I don't even know if this mysterious Sire is an Oracle, Seer, or Augur."
  
  "We got rid of his spy."
  
  "We don't know if the Sire decided to find only one Demigoddess willing to spy. And the fact she was a true believer is another enormous problem I have to point out."
  
  "She seems to have had no reluctance to play the role of betrayer," the daughter of Hecate answered, "but that doesn't mean-"
  
  "Lou Ellen," this time Perseus looked unwilling to extend any effort in practical jokes and taunts, "one has to admit the reality before it smashes you in the face. The mysterious Sire of Drakons was able to convince someone reasonably intelligent to discard her humanity. Furthermore, it was a plan that would, for all intent and purposes, kill the Demigoddess to mould her into a new being entirely. Bella Medina is dead, and she won't come back. I have little idea how it was done, but I can tell you there were many preparations and rituals before the final one inside the Forge; we only saw the last ritual and the triumph, not the sum of efforts that must have gone into this near-impossible deed."
  
  "You're right, it's terrifying." Bianca nodded. "And there's another point you haven't mentioned so far. As far as I can tell, this Sire of Drakons respected his promises. He really changed her into something she wanted to be, or at least something she was brainwashed enough to believe it was desirable to be."
  
  "Err..." Lou Ellen coughed. "I'm missing something, right? I know I have less experience than you two, but it did look to me on the video like a partial animal transformation. You didn't seem so worried about our golden penguin..."
  
  "There's no comparison possible." Bianca explained, for once pleased to explain some arcane lore to one deserving of it. "In one of the normal animal transformations, usually the near totality of the power the God or the Goddess uses is utterly wasted. Our trio of penguins lost their human bodies, but they received absolutely nothing in exchange. In fact, they might have lost more, for their Demigods' abilities are crippled. The transformations of Rico and the other cretins are a waste of energy...which is exactly the point, if you think about it. The Gods are so unhappy with you that they're willing to waste a tiny fraction of their divine power to punish you. Okay, it is not that much of a problem for them, their reserves are filled back within seconds. But that's still a waste. What happened to Bella Medina is very different. She sure as the Hells gained power, and a lot of it."
  
  "To use a mathematical estimate," Perseus said quietly, "I think the Sire poured about ninety percent of the ritual's energy into empowering her. By comparison, the penguins are the sort of ritual where ninety-five percent of the power is wasted."
  
  "Okay...you're right, that is bloody terrifying."
  
  "Glad you agree." A faint smile returned to Perseus' face...though it didn't last. "Of course that raises more questions than it gives us answer. This isn't like when you turn an insolent mortal into a penguin. The loss of power is permanent; you have really given a part of yourself away."
  
  "I see what you mean," Bianca frowned. "The power has to come from somewhere."
  
  "Yes. Arguably, this wasn't a full transformation from mortal to immortal; there were symbolic elements and advantages that made the half-task easier. But it wasn't a cheap thing done on a whim. Nocturna is extremely powerful, and I don't have any idea what her limits are...or what kind of true capabilities beyond bat-themes powers she might have."
  
  Bianca wanted to open her mouth to add one more problem: that they had to take seriously the possibility of Demigods deserting in mass, but staring in the green eyes, the daughter of Hades knew the son of Poseidon had thought of it.
  
  "This Sire may be the greatest ally to our cause or the most powerful enemy we will face." The Lightning Thief declared. "You realise he could have truly become the Titan of Drakons, should he had wished to."
  
  "I know. If he had really wanted to fulfil that ambition, there's not much we could have done."
  
  Perseus tried to leave his throne, but Lou Ellen was prompt to keep him on it.
  
  "What are we going to do now?"
  
  "Regroup, create new plans, get stronger," Perseus Jackson rolled his eyes before sighing, "and organise the funerals of those who fell, I suppose."
  
  5 December 2006, C.C.'s Spa and Resort, Sea of Monsters
  
  "Well this is certainly inconvenient...for the Triumvirate."
  
  Medea couldn't help but let her lips twitch in amusement. This kind of reaction was absolutely typical for her Aunt.
  
  "You were expecting a stronger reaction?"
  
  "No." The sorceress who had once been the Princess of Colchis replied honestly. "Storms might be unleashed and empire fall, it takes a lot to really anger you."
  
  "Yes," long and elegant fingers clicked, and a couple of girls brought refreshments. "Though it is a powerful storm these new Demigods have made. As far as entrances go, this one has been remarkable and forced everyone to pay attention."
  
  'Remarkable'...yes, it was definitely that...and more. Perseus Jackson and his cohort of crazy Demigods had created a brand-new entrance in the Sea of Monsters despite considerable wards standing in the way, and then used it successfully. The magical protections and Hell stood in the way, but it hadn't slowed them down. Chrysaor's legendary crew of murderous human-turned-dolphins had perished trying to fight them, before the son of Medusa was dragged screaming towards a fate worse than death.
  
  And of course, last but not least, once it had been done, the Questers had charged towards danger, and Perseus Jackson had killed an Ancestral Drakon bigger than the highest point of this very island.
  
  'Remarkable' was not perhaps the best word to describe this. 'How in the name of Hades are they still not dead?' might be more appropriate.
  
  "I am not trying to imitate the famous Cassandra," the female descendant of the Titan Helios spoke carefully, "but I think you should check up your evacuation measures...just in case."
  
  "Where is the confidence that say you proclaim the Eye of Helios was an extraordinary weapon no Demigod would be able to beat?" Her aunt asked humorously.
  
  Medea gritted her teeth before answering.
  
  "My confidence has massively decreased, now that I have seen a God-Beast die by the hands of a Demigod who has yet to reach the age of sixteen."
  
  "He received help."
  
  "With or without divine help, I wouldn't have been able to do it at eighteen. I am honest enough to admit it. And I don't think there are many Demigods in two thousand years who have been able to win battles as dangerous as this one."
  
  Circe, Immortal Sorceress and Owner of C.C's Spa and Resort, tranquilly sipped her mint syrup before speaking again.
  
  "I will prepare potential escape plans, just in case." Her mentor and Aunt told her after a long period of reflexion. "I think I have some time before the Suicide Squad pays me a little visit."
  
  "You could be wrong. The son of the Master of Atlantis is noted to be unpredictable."
  
  "I could." Circe agreed. "That's why I am going to hire a battalion of Amazons for a couple of months. I have good relations with them, courtesy of having trained and moulded many of them in the last decades."
  
  "That they have reason to want some payback against Perseus Jackson is a funny coincidence, of course," Medea grinned.
  
  "An extremely lucky coincidence," Circe replied in the same tone. "And now that I think about it, they don't like very much the Huntresses of Artemis either."
  
  "How tragic," Medea nodded. "A pity that at the pace things are going, the Huntresses who sailed aboard the flamboyant mega-yacht are going to be extinct before they reach your island."
  
  "Yes, quite a pity," the other Immortal Sorceress approved. "But the Eternal Virgin has only herself to blame. As recent events confirmed, it is best to have a few elite lieutenants around you than an army whose average level won't survive the first real challenges. Why do you think I keep so few permanent military forces around me?"
  
  Medea snorted.
  
  "In this troubled era we're finding ourselves thrown into, the numbers have some appeal."
  
  "The Eye of Helios is all I needed to decrease massively the Legionnaires' numbers."
  
  "And if the Suicide Squad finds a parade against it? Given their reputation and their recent exploits, you can't dismiss the possibility..."
  
  "I don't. This is why my father's weapon was only the first of many relics I sent for repairs at Forge MP-42. I have the budget and the resources, and I doubt the God of Forges will be imprisoned for long. Why not exploit the opportunity?"
  
  "Why not, indeed..." Medea chuckled. "Olympus is likely going to insist for something called a disarmament treaty if they win, though."
  
  "If they win, yes...it's not impossible, I suppose. But they will need more than the Suicide Squad. You and I have seen what Mark Antony and Cleopatra prepared. It will take more than a powerful fleet to ruin that."
  
  "Oh, I'm not worried about the Roman duo of Love and War. I'm more worried about your personal protection...you don't have the defences they take for granted, and while their Solar Ark moves, your island can't boast the same."
  
  "I will be fine." The daughter of Hecate smiled. "If they can really bypass or neutralise every stratagem...they will forgive me, in the end."
  
  "Because you have something they want?" It was a poorly kept secret that Circe was prompt to train the half-sisters who were sufficiently cunning to escape the Olympians' vigilance and find her spa.
  
  "Because I am beautiful," the words were the height of arrogance, but as Circe spoke, it was if the sun and the rest of the world listened and poured more beauty into her immortal essence.
  
  Medea kept her eyebrows raised in amusement.
  
  "And because I have taken great care to not be officially seen as an enemy of Olympus," the daughter of Helios admitted after a few seconds. "The Romans attacked my island unprovoked; I was only defending myself. And of course the ancient weapons are a purely defensive measure. We are living in dangerous times."
  
  "I love how you are able to say so many blatant untruths with a calm and reasonable voice, my Aunt."
  
  "Thank you, my favourite Niece." Circe's eyes became mischievous. "Tell the Triumvirate they'd better win, this time. I can seduce my way out of trouble, but I have so many better things to do..."
  
  "I will relay the message, I promise."
  
  6 December 2006, the Docks, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  The funerals, all told, were done very respectfully. The coffins had been sealed once it had been clear the few body parts they had found were the sums of all that remained of Kalinda, Eudoxia, Phoebe, and Douglas Smith. Gold Drachmas had also been placed in them before they were closed forever. Beautiful funeral shrouds had been commissioned and arrived in record time, before being placed on the coffins.
  
  A few minutes later, the enormous interior lake of the volcano had a great new barge on it, and the coffins went away, much like the souls of the fallen would have at one point to be taken aboard Charon's ferry.
  
  Jackson gave the order, and the barge was set on fire, with Leo Valdez being the one to provide the flames.
  
  The blaze was powerful and burned for long minutes while they all watched in silence. Once the barge was reduced to ashes and the last of the flames were extinguished by the water, the ranks of the Suicide Squad dispersed.
  
  Annabeth gave one more glance to the God-Beast filling a large area of the Docks. Even after watching it for so many hours, the daughter of Athena was still in disbelief Jackson had been able to kill such a huge monster.
  
  And speaking of the son of Poseidon...Annabeth turned around and went on to finally obtain the answers to the many questions boiling in her head.
  
  It was not hard to catch up; Lou Ellen had forced their leader to sit upon the ruin of what must have been a Viking ship's prow.
  
  "You tore a priceless artefact from the essence of the Ice Drakon when you won," the grey-eyed Demigoddess didn't waste time dancing around the subject. "How did you know?"
  
  "Hello, to you, your Owlishness!" the mad Demigod replied brightly. "You are not busy trying to woo a certain son of Hermes on this fine day?"
  
  Fortunately, right as she was blushing, the daughter of Hecate whispered something in the ear of the son of Poseidon...and the green-eyed Drakon-slayer moaned theatrically.
  
  "Fine, fine, I will behave."
  
  Obviously, no reasonable Demigoddess or Demigod would take that assertion seriously.
  
  "My question, Jackson."
  
  "For all their attempts to rewrite the history of the Titanomachy, the Olympians were not very successful. There were many witnesses, and some of them still breathe today. Furthermore, the Titans were not shy in sharing their version of events. If you dig outside of the existing paths, you're beginning to find out secrets they don't want you to know. Like what happened to the Titaness of Drakons."
  
  "Jackson...there is no Titaness of Drakons."
  
  "There was a Titaness of Drakons," the black-haired leader of the Suicide Squad corrected with a satisfied grin. "Today? There is no one in charge. Olympus made sure of it."
  
  "Why would they do that?" She asked bewildered.
  
  "Because for all the fact many Titans remained neutral - the Titaness of Sea and Oceans is a prime example - the Titanomachy was a far closer affair than many believe. The Titans who were the Scythe's main Generals were punished proportionally. The more dangerous they were to the Olympians' rule, the more severe the punishment in the end. When the judgements fell, it was decided the Titaness of Drakons was way too dangerous to be imprisoned like many others were. She had to be shattered first."
  
  "That sounds...exceedingly cruel." Annabeth couldn't help but remark.
  
  "It was." Perseus didn't even joke about it; so yes, it was that bad. "Memories, identity, and everything that made up the personality of the Titaness were allowed to remain in a form that barely qualifies as a lesser Goddess, but the raw power? That was completely denied to her."
  
  "Then why did Olympus miss the chance to elevate someone to the Throne of Drakons?" Lou Ellen asked. "Don't tell me the Council didn't want such power, I wouldn't believe it."
  
  "Oh, if Drakons had been winged creatures and had any connection to Air and the Sky, I've no doubt the power would have been claimed." Perseus answered tranquilly. "But as it was, you needed someone with Drakonic qualities. It isn't enough to want a Throne, you have to be synchronised with it. You have to love the idea of transforming yourself into a gigantic Drakon. You have to experience the desire to rule the Drakons. You have to want all skills and abilities that are associated with the Drakons. And though no one came to reveal it out loud, I have a feeling that at the end of the Titanomachy, there was no one among the Twelve who was a good fit. Paranoia made sure lesser Gods and Goddesses weren't considered. And as a result, three Drakons which had betrayed their Mistress were given each a part of her titanic essence, thus allowing them to become God-Beasts in their own right."
  
  "Fimbulvetr received the Heart and the Ice dominion."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "So he was the most redoubtable of the three 'Ancestral Drakons'."
  
  Perseus laughed, and for once, the sound was not mocking, but of genuine happiness.
  
  "Incorrect, Annabeth. He was the least powerful of the three, and likely at this hour the only one I had a real chance to beat."
  
  That wasn't exactly reassuring; the son of Poseidon had almost died, and to win, he had required the help of Khione.
  
  "And what about-"
  
  "You shouldn't speak of these subjects, male."
  
  Annabeth scowled. The Huntresses had arrived.
  
  Well, if one wanted to be accurate, the surviving Huntresses had arrived. Where there had been nine, now only four remained, as Jade wanted to do nothing with them anymore, and the others had reciprocated.
  
  "I speak of what I want, when I want," the son of Poseidon's reply was as undiplomatic as it could possibly without voicing insults. "Kindly remember that your performance so far is so abysmal I have little reason to listen to your suggestions."
  
  The Huntress named Kimiko tried to glare at him...unfortunately with her long blue tongue unable to stay in her mouth, that was hard. And the uncontrollable blue scaly tail behind her did not help either.
  
  Oh yeah, it had taken several hours after the battle, but not donning the X-Suits had been revealed as the folly it was. Kimiko had been cursed with a long tongue and a tail, as mentioned previously, and the other Huntress with her, Alexia, had now small horns growing upon her head, and she had to remove her boots, as her feet were replaced by red scaly talons.
  
  "You might have gotten away with it for the moment, but remember, male, that Lady Artemis will wait for you at the end of the Great Quest."
  
  "Kindly remember, Huntress, that you began this Quest with nine members, and now you have been reduced to four, and we have yet to face the serious challenges," Annabeth wanted to believe the last part was a joke, except there wasn't a sign Perseus was ready to laugh or signal his hilarity. "If you don't want this number to approach zero at the next island we will visit, I must advise you to listen to my warnings and obey my commands."
  
  "And if we don't?"
  
  "I will be magnanimous." The son of Poseidon shrugged as if it didn't concern him. "I will pay for more funerals."
  
  "Our Goddess will avenge us."
  
  "You will still be dead." Lou Ellen remarked, her hand upon Perseus' left shoulder. "Is there anything else to discuss?"
  
  "We want the betrayer out of this Great Quest."
  
  "Out of the question," their leader immediately replied. "Unlike you, Jade," two out of four Huntresses reddened in anger when hearing the name, "has proven she could be salvaged from your Cult. Moreover, her allegiance gave Khione the possibility to intervene legally on the battlefield. I'm far more tempted to get rid of the four of you, to be honest."
  
  "You do that, and you will pay for it with your death."
  
  Perseus...yawned. Yeah, that was how impressed he was...
  
  "I have already received many death threats, some of them coming from Goldie the Blonde, the newest addition to my Penguin Infantry Squad. And yeah, I have commercialised the name."
  
  Four Huntresses seethed in anger...and quickly realised that no matter how hard they glared, their ability to threaten an insane son of Poseidon was non-existent.
  
  "We want you to remove our curses." Alexia told him in an imperious tone.
  
  "I can't. Why look so surprised? I warned you that there were things that are beyond me."
  
  "You can't, or you won't?"
  
  Perseus Jackson rolled his eyes.
  
  "I can't, I swear it on the Styx." The Hell Sea rumbled in the distance, but nothing happened after it; the Drakon-slayer was not swallowed by a pit of darkness.
  
  "Now that we have discussed in all humility what I can and can't do," Perseus declared with one of his famous grins, "it seems our new friends are arriving!"
  
  Annabeth blinked, before realising the Sea Gates were still open after they had used it to let the Inevitable Doom get inside...and there were many dorsal fins of sharks.
  
  The daughter of Athena almost opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing by inviting sharks into a place where they couldn't even inspect, never mind work...until the 'sharks' jumped out of the water, and reveal they could stand in a bipedal manner.
  
  "Telekhines!" a Huntress barked. "You have made a bargain with Telekhines? We have orders from Lady Artemis to shoot them on sight!"
  
  "Fortunately," Perseus smiled, before slamming his feet on the ground...something that shook the very earth, "those are not Telekhines, those are bipedal Sharks of the Great and Honourable Family."
  
  "These are Telekhines!" Kimiko snarled, her blue tongue twisting and going out of control.
  
  "We are Telekhines." The leading monster, an enormous shark-shaped being which bared his teeth in an expression that had nothing very reassuring.
  
  "My ears have suddenly stopped functioning!" Perseus suddenly declared, earning himself a slap from the daughter of Hecate. "What? As long as I am unaware of the presence of Telekhines on this island, I can order them to restore the island defences and to produce many long-range missiles and very dangerous ordnance."
  
  "You say the nicest things, son of Poseidon." The fanged smile grew even wider.
  
  "My sorceress lieutenants have begun to purify the Forge and remove all the most obvious Curses, but be careful, we are finding hundreds of new ones with each hour."
  
  "We are going to check first the areas which have been cleansed of the Drakon's curses. Do you want-"
  
  "THESE ARE TELEKHINES! KILL THEM!"
  
  Perseus sighed and gave a nod to Lou Ellen.
  
  One instant later, a spell struck the four Huntresses, and sent them to create nice splashes into the gigantic 'lake'.
  
  "Tell Clarisse I have need of her services. Something about breaking the stubbornness of a few Huntresses." Perseus shook his head. "Frankie? If they escape our vigilance in the next days, try to not eat them. I will decide their punishment in person."
  
  "You're the boss," the Telekhine amicably replied...before adding under his breath that Huntresses, according to the 'Don', tasted awfully when you tried to digest them.
  
  7 December 2006, Helfrost Crater, the Underworld
  
  The shades which had first seen it had called it the Egg's Crater at first. It wasn't very imaginative, but there was an egg...and there was a crater. It was fitting.
  
  As the frost began to spread, however, the name 'Helfrost Crater' had begun to be whispered, before it was repeated by the endless multitude of souls he ruled over.
  
  The dead spoke about it, but they were doing their best to stay far away from it now. Khione was sleeping inside the Egg that changing her, but the Drakons of the Underworld were attracted to her presence nonetheless.
  
  With every heartbeat, the colossal reptiles looked more and more like they were truly alive, as long as you saw them from a large distance away. They were changing, much like their new mistress did. Once ago, they had been born of Ice and Frost; now they were accepting Death inside their essences.
  
  The crater, as a result, was ferociously guarded, though all Drakons remained at the edge of the crater, unwilling to descend into it. For all their instincts pushing them to do so, their new Goddess had yet to be born, and as long as the links weren't forged, they would do nothing but guard.
  
  This didn't mean the Egg was alone. Hades gave an amused glance to the former Huntress who stood guard near the black scales imprisoning and transforming the Goddess of Snow.
  
  One had sworn herself while alive; one had sworn herself while dead.
  
  Both were changing, as their Mistress dreamed and was altered by the Drakonic essence.
  
  Already the arms of the Huntresses were covered in black and white scales, and her eyes were shining an eyrie blue.
  
  The Lord of the Underworld placed his hand upon the Egg one more time, and his suspicions were more than confirmed. Perseus Jackson had done an excellent work...and executed competently what Hades had commanded him to do.
  
  Leaving a part of himself to keep monitoring the Helfrost Crater, the eldest God of the Olympians turned around, admiring the snow-covered landscape. Hell had truly frozen over...it was going to be interesting how the mortals would perceive it in their dreams.
  
  Hades walked away, and the moment he was past the Drakonic guards, Megaera joined him.
  
  "Is it wise, my Lord, to leave her alone here?" the blue-clad Erinye asked. "She was a Huntress when she was living..."
  
  "Wise? Perhaps not." Hades admitted. "But Judith's allegiance is genuine. She will serve Khione in death, much like her sister-by-choice Jade will serve in life for as long as she can."
  
  The latter was not going to have an easy life, beginning with the Great Quest. Khione had made the girl stronger and given her skills she would have been only able to dream about when a Huntress of Artemis, but that may not be enough to fend off the attackers.
  
  One thing to remember about the Olympians and several other parties was that they were incredibly petty. They couldn't strike back against Khione; therefore they would try their best to inflict some minable vengeances against her servants.
  
  "Well, if she is loyal..." Megaera cleared her throat. "I suppose there won't be too many problems. "The changes have accelerated after she began to mount guard."
  
  "That is because Khione is becoming part of my realm, not because of anything the girl did." Hades explained slowly.
  
  "Lord? By the Ancient Laws, she will have only to spend one month here with you."
  
  "The Laws can say all they want," the Lord of Hell replied with some sarcasm in his voice, "the important part is the heart of the Goddesses."
  
  "Err...I see?"
  
  No, Megaera didn't, but he wasn't surprised; nothing of the likes had ever happened in his Domain. This was a true novelty...and it was really pleasant. The Underworld was changing, and with it, Hades could change and order things that would have been unthinkable a decade ago.
  
  "Speak, Megaera, I can clearly seen you have a question on your tongue you are impatient to voice."
  
  "How long it will take for the transformation to be complete, my Lord?"
  
  "That is an interesting question." Hades admitted with a smile. "You see, there is a secret that only two souls were aware of before the Battle of the Forge of All Perils began. The Pomegranate Seeds Perseus Jackson had in his possession were not only prepared to obtain react suitably with Drakonic blood; these Seeds were also magically synchronised with each other."
  
  The blue-clad Erinye had enough knowledge and intelligence to gain a full understanding of the situation with that revelation.
  
  "So the transformation is slowing down to make sure the second Pomegranate Seed will complete its own purpose." Megaera said slowly. "I...I think I know what you are trying to do, my Lord. But are you sure She is going to react as you want her to?"
  
  "In my humble opinion," Hades gave a splendid smile, "when all things have failed, a wise God must rely upon this powerful emotion known as jealousy to reveal the true feelings of a Goddess."
  
  One of his jewels on his right armband flashed three times in black light.
  
  "Ah...right on time."
  
  7 December 2006, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  The moment she received the 'magical invitation', Persephone used it.
  
  The Goddess of Spring was beyond angry...she had an urge to murder a certain Demigod.
  
  The temperature when she appeared into the room where the circle for divine visitors had been installed did not improve her mood.
  
  It was hot. Persephone did not know which purpose this room was supposed to serve, but there was enough water and warmth for the location to be used both as a Jacuzzi and a first-rate Sauna.
  
  This enraged her further. Evidently, this opportunist demon had made preparations for everything, including his own accommodations...but done little to fulfil her own desires.
  
  Persephone conjured a spear of obsidian and pointed it at the bare chest of the son of Poseidon.
  
  "Why shouldn't I kill you here and now, Perseus Jackson?" the daughter of Demeter snarled.
  
  "Well, first because you may not have the strength to fight two sorceresses as powerful as the ones present in this room?"
  
  Two? But the blonde daughter of Hecate was the only-
  
  SPLASH!
  
  Persephone didn't have the time to parry that her spear was flying. As for herself, she was thrown into one of the large pools that seemed to be everywhere. And the Goddess could verify firsthand that yes, the water was of adequate warmth.
  
  Unfortunately, it also led to realise that the one who had struck her was the daughter of her ex-husband.
  
  "Do you really think we were going to leave him unguarded?" The black-haired sorceress snorted. "He's mad, but we still need him."
  
  "Your dedication to protect my humble life is noted," the son of Poseidon added as Persephone jumped out of the water while dismissing her current clothes for light black armour that would be impervious to any liquid.
  
  "I am in no mood for your jokes, mortal. Given how exhausted you are, it is not going to be a challenge to incinerate you."
  
  To her displeasure, the Earthshaker's son sighed.
  
  "I warned you: this isn't the story where you can stay on the sidelines and not commit until victory is in sight."
  
  "I participated! Without me, you wouldn't have obtained the Pomegranate Seeds!"
  
  The green eyes looked at her in serious disapproval.
  
  "They were more useful than you could possibly believe, my Lady. But selling something that you would have sold to anyone for the right amount of Drachmas is not sufficient. I could walk into any shop and sell a few artefacts for the right price. Does it mean I want to marry or divorce the person I sell the goods to? No, it doesn't."
  
  Persephone fought the urge that told her to use her power and transform the flesh of this insolent Demigod into a ruin no one would be able to heal. But as the mortal had told her, there were two sorceresses here...and though she could fight them, it would not change anything when it came to her problems.
  
  "In that case, does coming here counts as an insufficient gesture?" She asked bitterly. "New laws have been passed. We are forbidden to help you or to advise you in any way. I am already breaking the edicts of Olympus just by coming here. Is that what you wanted?"
  
  "Yes," for once, the voice was deadly serious. "Months ago, you were speaking the words, but without believing them. Now you are truly committed."
  
  Yes...yes she was.
  
  "And now you are going to tell me I am too late. That the other Ancestral Drakons are missing, and the only part of the plan that could be done is the one you fought with the Goddess of Snow."
  
  "No. You aren't late. The Magma Drakon would have been a nightmare to challenge anyway, one I doubt that I would have emerged victorious, given how strong Fimbulvetr was."
  
  The Goddess of Spring barked in laughter.
  
  "The legendary Perseus Jackson admits he can't beat something? Now I have heard everything..."
  
  "Think of an Ancestral Drakon at least the size of Fimbulvetr," the Demigod continued in a calm voice, "though this one doesn't radiate cold like an infernal fridge, but the kind of temperatures of a volcanic caldera. I must add that we wouldn't have any protective suits to do the job, as the X-Suits of our benefactor are for sub-zero temperatures only. This would leave us extremely vulnerable to Drakonic curses and a lot of problems like dehydration. Then consider that the body of the Ancestral Drakon is partially made of magma, and his breath is certainly radioactive. Each wound made in its cuirass would pour onto our heads something extremely similar to a cascade of Greek fire. I won't mention that the battleground will likely be an active volcano, or that napalm-spitting parasites may need to be fought before we get to the big bad Drakon. Last but not least, the magma powers are a perfect counter to most of my abilities, including Hydrokinesis."
  
  For the first time, Persephone had to let the Demigods see her shame.
  
  "Err...I apologise."
  
  "Apologies accepted."
  
  "Then by the time you will have a new plan, it will be too late." He might choose her instead of me, she didn't voice out loud.
  
  The son of Poseidon sighed, making her realise for the first time how much he had aged lately...and how exhausted he was.
  
  "It is not too late, Lady Persephone. I am not making plans that are easily destroyed at the first obstacle or the first mysterious enemy deciding to screw with them. Moreover, the Lord of Hell, your former husband, could, if he really wanted, let a certain divine transition proceed extremely fast, and there would be nothing I or you could do."
  
  "Still," the blonde daughter of Hecate said, "I presume time is a precious resource right now."
  
  "It is." Perseus Jackson approve while shaking his head. "As soon as the island is fortified enough that the Triumvirate will have no hope to storm it without enduring murderous casualties, we are going to sail for the island where you, Lady Persephone, will have to fight the battle where you will have to reconquer the throne you abandoned."
  
  The Goddess of Spring snorted, and she wasn't the only one.
  
  "Just like that."
  
  "Just like that." The leader of the Great Quest gave her an expression that dared her to rise to the challenge, making sure the flames of her wrath burned again. "There will be one Goddess and one Champion fighting an apocalyptic battle. It will decide if Hell will see the return of its Queen...or if we will get the coronation of a new one."
  
  She gritted her teeth...before one point forced her to leash her rage.
  
  "Assuming we are speaking of a battle to occur days away from today, you won't have recovered enough to fight this battle."
  
  "I won't." The son of Poseidon confirmed. "That said...is it your greatest desire to have me as your Champion, my Lady?"
  
  "No." The daughter of Demeter honestly replied.
  
  "That said, I'm sure Bianca di Angelo here will be a perfect Champion-"
  
  "I would prefer death!"
  
  "Out of the question!"
  
  Persephone was a bit bemused that the Lightning Thief had replied before her. But at least, it was satisfying: no way would this usurper be tied to her immortality. The former Queen of Hell was willing to ignore her, but not have her in a position of power anywhere near the Underworld.
  
  "In that case, you will have to make a choice between all the Demigods and Demigoddesses of the Suicide Squad, save one or two exceptions." The green-eyed boy turned his head towards his blonde-haired sorceress. "For reasons that will become clear later, Lou Ellen here is not an option, I'm afraid."
  
  "There is one big problem remaining." Persephone warned him. "You might be confident your preparations have managed to fool Olympus, but once I arrive to fight my battle, the Council is not going to stay idle. They will intervene."
  
  "No, they won't." Perseus retorted with iron-clad certainty.
  
  "His pride is on the line, and I, one of his daughters will have made clear I care nothing for his will. He will act."
  
  Some part of Persephone still didn't believe she was ready to take these steps.
  
  But the other part of her, the one which burned with divine jealousy, was ready.
  
  And really, what was waiting for Olympus? It had been made clear after a few days that past the first carnal pleasures and the sessions of shopping, the Olympians did not want to tolerate her for more than a few months of the year, especially when she had not millions of Drachmas to spend on her new clothing collections.
  
  "He won't," Perseus repeated. "For the island I am going to sail for is the one where I have been able to locate the legendary Golden Fleece."
  
  Persephone was opening her mouth to tell him not to be ridiculous...before closing it immediately. Yes, that was something that would stop Zeus from using his Master Bolt or choosing to unleash some extreme measures.
  
  If he did, he would break the very purpose of the Great Quest he had himself ordered, and well...there would be many, many Gods, Goddesses and Titans that would not like that at all. To make it worse, the Golden Fleece would be missing, and it would likely be the end of all resurrection attempts for his late mortal daughter, her latest half-sister.
  
  "It is still a massive risk." Persephone declared before being forced to admit the bitter truth. "And I won't be able to help you much before the true fight begins. Unlike the Goddess of Snow, I doubt my domain or my skills really apply to this island."
  
  "Lady Persephone, I did not call my group the Suicide Squad because it was going to be an easy adventure!"
  
  The daughter of Hecate gave him a light slap on the cheek to remind him of his own mortality.
  
  Maybe this Demigod should have been raised by Amphitrite, he couldn't have possibly turned crazier, of that Persephone was certain!
  
  7 December 2006, the Tri-Palace, Atlantis
  
  Amphitrite had been playing of her harpanorgan for a good hour when her husband arrived.
  
  It was certainly the melody who had pushed him to return faster. One of the Atlantean most beloved musical instruments, the harpanorgan played the song of the seas and life itself. It was such a powerful music that alas the mortals often thought it was the voice of Sirens overwhelming their senses, with alas the same fatal effects.
  
  Amphitrite continued to play, caressing the keys and the chords as if she was alone in her quarters.
  
  It took quite a bit of concentration when his hand went to massage her naked back. The silver robe had chosen today left very little to modesty, and it seemed that it had the effect she wanted.
  
  "Triston is worried," her husband murmured when it became obvious that she wasn't going to stop playing unless he began to ravish her here and there. "You never had a male favourite among my children before."
  
  "Your sons never gave me any reasons to like them before Perseus was born, my Lord," the Queen of the Seas replied as she began a new music singing of the melancholy of the Nymphs watching the Trojan War. "But there are favourites and then are Heirs. Triton remains my son and your Heir. Perseus will never replace him."
  
  "It would be better," Poseidon removed his hands from her skin, "if you say these words in person. You are his mother."
  
  "How kind of you to remind me that little detail, my Lord."
  
  At least her husband had the good sense to wince.
  
  "I know I have not been the best of fathers." The admission cost him. "And I know we have grown estranged as a consequence of my actions. But I can't change the past."
  
  "You can't," Amphitrite continued moving her fingers upon the harpanorgan. "However you could properly support your children. Rhode is making her moves as we're speaking."
  
  Poseidon winced again.
  
  "Do you have any idea how tiring and deafening the rant of my brother was? He accused me in person of going behind his back and giving asylum to the Telekhines. I would have liked a little bit of a warning."
  
  "Rhode chose to reveal to me the relevant details only a few days ago. Would it have changed anything?"
  
  "Probably not," there was some grumble, but as always, the pragmatism ran out. Poseidon knew there were things he wouldn't be part of. He wasn't a conspirator, and for many deeds, the need to keep Olympus in the dark was paramount.
  
  "Rhode can't be my successor."
  
  "Rhode can't be your successor," Amphitrite repeated, making him blink in surprise. "What? You think I am blind to her flaws? If we gave her the crown right now, my dear daughter would spend most of a year changing the laws, not because they are wrong, but because you promulgated them. Rhode is the Light of the Sea, but she is also filled with spite at the moment."
  
  "I will freely admit I am reassured, yes."
  
  "Unfortunately, all our children are unsuitable to one degree or another. Triton...let's not talk about him, we have debated his issues long enough. Rhode is not powerful enough, even if Perseus give her back her former servants and many Forges. As for Kymopoleia, she definitely has the power, but she would terrify Olympus if we put her in charge."
  
  "And I wouldn't blame them..." Poseidon whispered.
  
  Amphitrite played the songs of loss and mourning that were so many times returning to haunt her heart, and as always, music helped to push the pain away.
  
  "I notice you didn't mention the flaws of my son."
  
  Amphitrite giggled.
  
  "Do you really need to ask? He has inherited all of the madness of the seas, in addition to what he had already had in his soul at birth. He could be a superb ruler if he wanted to. But in this vast realm we rule over, from the surface to the abyss, Perseus would get bored far too easily. And once your son will realise he is bored, he will take steps to remedy to that boredom. I have no desire to see Atlantis burn so he can get his quota of amusement, Lord Husband."
  
  "Since I am a responsible God, I can only support this." Poseidon paused. "I note you only said it disqualifies him from the succession of Atlantis."
  
  "Well, if he ever gets immortality and a throne on Olympus," Amphitrite remarked, "boredom is not something that will threaten him. Your brothers' bastards are always one step away from civil war, whether it is be their own negligence or some centuries-old feuds they let fester. On the other hand, we will have to make sure he is surrounded by many Goddesses that can keep him in check. Your brother is enough of a walking disaster, I am not going to let a potential replacement do a more catastrophic job than him."
  
  The music she played was more determined from thereon was joyful...joyful and martial.
  
  "I will make sure nothing happen to your son until he is fully recovered."
  
  "The Titaness-"
  
  Amphitrite raised an eyebrow.
  
  "As you wish."
  
  Amphitrite smiled...and then she finished playing her last song.
  
  The Queen of Atlantis abandoned her crystalline coral stool, and unclasped the two strings on her shoulders that made sure her silver dress espoused her body like it was silk.
  
  "Now it is time to fulfil another of your husbandly duties, my Lord."
  
  As always when this invitation was given, Amphitrite had not the need to add one more word.
  
  9 December 2006, approaches of the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Their orders, coming straight from the mouths of their masters, had been to storm the Forge of All Perils, put to the sword its defenders, and capture the vast industrial and metallurgic installations intact. For the glory of the Triumvirate, and all of that.
  
  If you ignored the promises of loot and untold riches waited for you, it wasn't difficult to notice that most of the 'assault squadron' had included very few Triumvirate Legionnaires, and no modern ships whatsoever. Yes, it was a respectable naval force, but the galleons and the ironclads were not exactly what anyone would want to eliminate a fortified enemy.
  
  Since he wasn't a complete imbecile, Edward thought he had a good idea of what Cleopatra's real plan was: assemble a maximum of expendable warships, and throw it against the defences of the Demigods who had vanquished an Ancient Dragon and its progeny.
  
  If it worked, then the Triumvirate would have won once again a victory, and likely bled the forces of the enslaved pirates participating in this dangerous operation. If it failed, the Egyptian Queen would have lost nothing important...from her point of view.
  
  "The good news, as far as we can tell, is that they have only a single missile-launching battery firing at us." The Master of the Queen Anne's Revenge said with a grimace.
  
  BOOM!
  
  A second later after he had spoken the words, one of the galleons that were part of the assault squadron received a missile. And as usual, the initial explosion set a lot of things aflame...and some of them were too close to the gunpowder stores or other unstable ammunition.
  
  Fate was good; the galleon was not in cannon's range, and there was a 'wooden shield' of three other ships, one of them an ironclad, between his warship and the doomed hull.
  
  The explosion was thunderous, and as a veteran, he felt very proud to have prepared enough earmuffs for everyone. Because this kind of noise? You could really become deaf if you listened to it without anything to protect your ears.
  
  Unfortunately, that left the fire. Edward didn't know what kind of ammunition had been used, but as sure as his pirate name was Blackbeard, the galleon was destroyed like it had been on the receiving end of Zeus' wrath.
  
  What had been a galleon was now a fireship, literally.
  
  It was a horrible spectacle. As there had been no warning, the sailors working in the masts had been turned into living torches, and the few which weren't had now to choose between jumping into the Sea of Monsters and burning to death.
  
  "Captain, the Ironclad Sweet is the Plunder is trying to plunge to escape the missiles!"
  
  "That's against our orders...and a very bad idea."
  
  Edward Teach would have preferred to being proved wrong, but in the first seconds the Ironclads tried to use its submersible capabilities, the magnitude of his fellow captain's error was revealed for all to see.
  
  In mere seconds, enormous shapes attacked the ironclad underwater, and everyone among Blackbeard's crew could see the waters take a bloody colour...at the same time hundreds of men were devoured by shark-like monsters.
  
  "Telekhines," the legendary pirate growled, "of course it had to be Telekhines."
  
  These carnivorous beasts had the cunning and the viciousness to forge the worst weapons imaginable, and the lack of morals to sell them to anyone willing to pay an adequate price for them.
  
  "What are they doing there?"
  
  "I imagine the Demigods who defeated the Drakon hired them to teach us a lesson." Two explosions in the next minute answered the evident question if the Telekhines had thought preparing an underwater minefield would be funny. Yes, yes they had thought about this basic tactic.
  
  "Isn't negotiating with these monsters a capital crime, or something like that?"
  
  Blackbeard shrugged.
  
  "Some people love breaking the rules, and according to what we have learned, the son of Poseidon leading this Quest is crazy even by our impressive pirate standards."
  
  Galleons continued to die. Galleys blew up or went down in flames.
  
  And of course, every time a warship was so damaged it was beginning to sink to the bottom of the Sea, the Telekhines were there. They waited until the sailors were fighting not to drown, for the critical moment where a pirate had to remove his armour and abandon most of his weapons in order to swim...and then there were moving for the kill.
  
  One more Ironclad was destroyed. A galley in perdition changed brutally course and rammed a galleon.
  
  Two more missiles killed hundreds of sailors and terrified thousands of others.
  
  The approaches of the volcanic Forge were now a spectacle of ruin and destruction.
  
  "Captain, this battle is lost!"
  
  "I know. But we haven't the order to retreat."
  
  The gesture towards the golden collar around his neck was all that needed to be said.
  
  Yes, they were now over thirty ships destroyed out of one hundred, and there were still had a great distance to sail before anyone would risk a landing.
  
  Some turrets had hurled projectiles at the enemy, but they were terribly lacking in accuracy, and if everyone could hit the mountain in the distance...well, it was a big mountain. It wasn't with a few dozen shells and some missiles they were going to do serious damage.
  
  "What good will come from this disaster? We have confirmed some defences are operational! And we won't be able to storm the Gates of this damned Forge with the losses we endured!"
  
  "The ones who gave the order may have a different opinion than you. Maybe they want to force our enemies to reveal more of the batteries and stratagems they keep secret in the depths of this volcanic Forge. Or maybe we're merely the first assault of many, and this wave is to make sure the Telekhines exhaust all the ammunition they transported in a hurry here."
  
  One thing was sure, hundreds of pirates were dying, and many black flags were burning for a battle that couldn't be won anymore.
  
  The Sea of Monsters had turned red, and the monsters were feasting. Not just the Telekhines; Blackbeard had noticed a young kraken approaching a sinking galleon. It had been attracted by all the underwater ruckus, and now it was coming to play its role in the butchery.
  
  "DISPERSE!"
  
  Obviously, a Lord of Pirates was above certain things like showing his relief and laughing at something that could be rightly considered cowardice.
  
  Most of his men shouted their relief nonetheless.
  
  The order had resonated like the whip of a slaver, and in many ways, the description was all too accurate.
  
  But for once, Blackbeard didn't care.
  
  "WITHDRAW IN GOOD ORDER." Cleopatra's voice rang, imperious and deadly. "RETURN TO THE ISLAND WHERE THE MUSTER TOOK PLACE. YOU WILL RECEIVE NEW ORDERS HERE."
  
  Fate had not forgotten him, it appeared...though it wouldn't do to scream victory too fast. It was going to take some time to escape to a safe distance where the Forge's batteries could not slaughter them in all impunity.
  
  "You heard the order. Change tack immediately, and without colliding with another ship, if you please! My former command stands, do not, under circumstances, use the submersion mode! Return the ammunition to its storage compartment!"
  
  Blackbeard gave a last glance to the volcano before turning away and barking more orders. Today had been a significant defeat, but he was still alive. There would be other battles...and opportunities to escape the slavery the witch had condemned them to.
  
  "They are insane, these Demigods, Captain. Bargaining with Telekhines..."
  
  "Come on, Lafitte, it is not madness if it works! Unlike the Legionnaires we captured, these one really mean business!" Blackbeard laughed. "They have understood the first and only rule of piracy...the victor will be the only one standing at the end of this war!"
  
  10 December 2006, Solar Ark Spear of the Gods, hundreds of metres above an uninhabited island of the Sea of Monsters
  
  Just for the view alone, the sheer amount of money and resources devoted to the Spear of the Gods had been worth it.
  
  The Solar Ark was in a stationary position at a very low altitude, far from reaching its technological limits.
  
  Yet just by watching the Sea of Monsters like this, one could truly enjoy a spectacle which millennia ago had been reserved to the Gods and their most devoted servants.
  
  Cleopatra could enjoy the caress of the wind upon her skin, the warmth of the sun, and the smell of the sea in other locations; but above the Spear of the Gods, divinity felt like a birthright.
  
  "You could return under the sheets, you know."
  
  The Second Triumvirate Caesarea gave her husband a false mocking glare.
  
  "As much as I enjoy the activities we pursue in this bed, there is a mess I must clean up today."
  
  "I'm sure we could make the pirates wait."
  
  "We could," the woman aspiring to become the Goddess Neo Isis replied, "but this latest battle has already forced me to detonate a few dozen slave collars. We lost no one important that way, but the most powerful Captains are getting restless. They didn't enjoy at all the role we forced them to play."
  
  "They are slaves," her husband grinned. "They may dislike being used as missile sponges; it will never stop us from throwing them against our enemies if we decide it is necessary."
  
  "I agree." She continued watching the vast and endless mass of waters below their flagship while crossing her arms, "but the reality is, unless you found me a new fleet of Legionnaires we can trust, we need the pirates to scout ahead of our modern squadrons...and thin the ranks of our enemies when it comes to the real battles."
  
  "Their numbers makes them easy to replace."
  
  "The situation has a bit changed in that regard in the last months. The rumours have spread how we are keeping so many prestigious pirates obedient. And I'm afraid my gamble to storm the Forge of All Perils before its defences were fully operational has been a disaster. Thirty-seven ships have been lost with all hands."
  
  At last, her husband abandoned their bed to join her on the observation bridge of the Spear of the Gods.
  
  "I am not going to say I am pleased by the losses, but there was a reason why you threw the pirates against this island. We lost nothing important, and we learned a lot about the opposition's resources."
  
  "True." Cleopatra breathed out. "We must remove the 'Suicide Squad' from the war as soon as possible. The longer they survive, the harder it will be to crush them militarily. Already they have secured a base and allies that can withstand a major assault of our fleet."
  
  "Well, I suppose it couldn't be just blind dumb luck and the incompetence of Caligula who led them to victory during their first Great Quest."
  
  Her husband took her in his arms, and for many minutes, Cleopatra closed her eyes and enjoyed the present.
  
  "What will be their next move, in your opinion?" Mark Antony asked at last.
  
  "I admit I have not the faintest idea." The mistress of the Solar Ark admitted. "Days ago, I swore they would have gambled everything on a decisive battle in safe conditions. Apparently, I was completely wrong."
  
  Not even in her wildest dreams had Cleopatra imagined the son of Poseidon would challenge and kill a monster that everyone in this Zone Mortalis had done his or her best to stay hundreds of nautical miles away from.
  
  The Ancestral Drakon of Ice and Frost had been such a titanic force of nature according to the rumours that no one sane had envisaged to directly challenge him, first-rate Forge to take over as a prize or not.
  
  Except Perseus Jackson had clearly thought otherwise, and unlike the other expeditions which had landed by mistake on the volcanic island, the son of Poseidon had triumphed.
  
  The shockwaves of that victory were, in many ways, just beginning. On the one hand, it was definitely good for their cause, as the Olympians had once again been caught by surprise, for all that the Suicide Squad was fighting under their banners. On the other hand...
  
  "It is quite rare I am forced to fight this kind of foe." She continued. "Unfortunately, waiting for him to die of old age is not an option here. And the Sea of Monsters is exactly the battlefield that suits his unpredictable tactics."
  
  "By dispersing enough the fleet, we could intercept this mega-yacht. We only need to get lucky once, in the end."
  
  "No. We need to get lucky quite a few times. The slaughter of the Drakon and the vermin surrounding it has proved we can't presume the Legionnaires we send will be able to hold their own, even if they outnumber the Olympian Demigods ten-to-one."
  
  "I see. Well, this is your fleet. How do you intend to proceed?"
  
  "I am going to retain most of the fleet around the Spear of the Gods; this is going to be likely a waste of military assets, but I don't want Perseus Jackson to try a decapitation strike against our flagship. At the same time, I am going to gather the pirates, corsairs, and other assets that were not committed so far into three massive squadrons."
  
  "I thought you said the pirates needed to get lucky several times."
  
  "I don't intend to rely upon luck," she sniffed, "in the end, Perseus Jackson can be as unpredictable as he wants, but he has to obey his sailing orders, and we know what they consist of. He has to recover the Golden Fleece; he has to liberate Forge MP-42 and its august prisoner; and he has to storm the island where you keep the Butcher God. Speaking of which?"
  
  "For now, the architects and the workers are keeping up the timetable you gave them."
  
  "Good." Her relief would have not been evident for anyone else, but her husband knew her too well.
  
  "While there is some necessary improvisation, we have competent subordinates." Mark Antony said gently before kissing her on the lips. "The three pirate squadrons?"
  
  "I will make sure they follow orders; one of the modernised Battleships will be enforcing my will for each squadron."
  
  "They will need anti-Telekhine weapons."
  
  "They will need a lot of weapons, though I don't necessarily expect victory; the chief goal here is for the squadron to delay the son of Poseidon long enough so that our fleet can arrive in time and catch the Suicide Squad between the anvil of the pirate squadron and the solar spear of my own fleet."
  
  "That sounds to me a perfectly reasonable strategy. Of course, I would have said the assault which saw a Drakon be slain was impossible. I suppose we need to reinforce the assets we have on each island?"
  
  "We do...except Forge MP-42. If a Titaness, the Legionnaire garrison we have stationed here, and a considerable army of heavy automatons are not enough to stand against an attack of the Suicide Squad, then nothing will. The island where the Butcher God is prisoner is difficult to access and is more and more defended as we build up its magical defences and heavy fortifications. However that leaves the island where the Golden Fleece is kept."
  
  "The owner of the Golden Fleece is not exactly a lightweight. In many ways, he will be more difficult to defeat than an Ancient Drakon."
  
  Cleopatra chuckled, though there wasn't much happiness behind it.
  
  "I don't intend to take any risks this time. I want the son of Poseidon out of my war. I underestimated him once by waiting for him next to the Charybdis-Scylla Strait; I won't make the same mistake again. The guardian of the Golden Fleece will get his reinforcements. And I want you to use your contacts. The Telekhines are working for the 'heroes of Olympus'; it is time we get our own monsters."
  
  "I see what monsters you are talking about. It is going to be...expensive...especially to transport them within days to that island."
  
  "As long as you can rise as a God on the Spring Equinox, I don't care, my love."
  
  "And I will do everything to have you by my side as the Goddess of Love on the Autumn Equinox, my love."
  
  Their lips joined, and finally, they both decided that their duties and obligations could wait for another hour, after all.
  
  10 December 2006, Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters
  
  "What a repugnant display of fluids."
  
  Thethys was not the kind of Titaness who accused immediately the parents because their children were emotionally stunted.
  
  But in that particularly case, Thethys really wanted to teleport on the Forge of All Perils, grab Hera, and ask her what the hell the girl had been thinking when she was raising Hephaestus.
  
  No. No, you couldn't call that raising a child, whether mortal or divine.
  
  You could call it a disaster-in-the-making. You could describe it as 'how to screw up when it came to the emotional being of a Child-God'.
  
  Damn it, Hera.
  
  "Why did you waste your time and mine? Setting aside the evidence you don't trust the Triumvirate leadership, I fail to see how this unproductive method to spend the daily limited number of hours can be any interest of mine."
  
  For him, it may have sounded like a waste of time, but it certainly wasn't for Thethys.
  
  It had confirmed what she knew for sure: the marriage of Aphrodite and Hephaestus had been a colossal mistake from day one, and there was no real hope of it getting better without entirely changing the personality of Hephaestus. It may very well be beyond the powers of a Titaness like herself, needless to say.
  
  "I thought you would be interested by the fact one ancient Forge is once again free to fulfil its purposes. And though you are my prisoner, I see no reason to hide from you the deeds of the Questers sent by Olympus to free you...and their consequences."
  
  "But you do not have come to tell me that." It was a pity Hephaestus showed so much clarity when mechanics and metallurgy where involved, and so little when the affairs of heart were at stake. "One more Forge returning to life? It is a single fire, no matter how great it is. And I don't share my father's stupid aversion for the Telekhines. Smiths are smiths; we can forge weapons as much as horseshoes."
  
  "You are right. I have come to speak about you if you had heard the title of 'Sire of Drakons' before."
  
  The black eyes grew thoughtful. Unlike Hera's other son, Hephaestus was extremely intelligent, woe to any who forget the ugly looks hid a mind of steel.
  
  "No," the God admitted after several seconds of silence. "The greatest monster to have ever lived is a candidate, of course, but if he was able to bolster the power of Fimbulvetr, he would have already broken his chains."
  
  "Yes. And to answer your question, no, Yellowstone and the surrounding region are perfectly normal at this time of the year."
  
  Which was good. Thethys wasn't fond of the Olympians, but she had no wish to see Typhon ever released from his prison.
  
  "The Mother of Monsters could be the answer."
  
  Ah, yes. Echidna.
  
  "I have it under good authority she has yet to escape the Pits after her latest defeat."
  
  "Then I have no idea which monster could have claimed the title," Hephaestus grumbled. "You should ask your daughter."
  
  Thethys, for the first time in days, allowed her prisoner to see her grimacing.
  
  "I don't think it is a good idea."
  
  The last time the Sea Titaness had visited her child, the conversation had been extremely unpleasant, and that was describing it in a nice way.
  
  Thankfully, Hephaestus didn't insist.
  
  "The two other Ancestral Drakons could provide answers, if you can find them."
  
  "And if we can a way to force them to answer some of our questions," Thethys pointed out. "Fimbulvetr, in theoretically, was capable of speaking the human language. Watching his fight against the Suicide Squad of Perseus Jackson, I didn't see anything to confirm it. It is entirely possible the Ancestral Drakons have no desire to speak with anyone they consider 'lesser'...or their 'Sire' has removed their ability to speak."
  
  But since the Demigoddess who had revealed her betrayal could converse after her transformation, Thethys didn't see why this mysterious opponent would have bothered with the Drakons.
  
  "Nasty beasts," Hephaestus replied while picking up a hammer and returning to his task of assembling an automaton of bronze colour. "They are always difficult to expel from a Forge once they are inside. The son of Poseidon did very well killing this one."
  
  Did Hephaestus know the Ice Drakon had attacked the Telekhines on the orders of Zeus? Or was he simply letting his disgust of Drakons speaking?
  
  As always, the sheer waste of potential was to be mourned.
  
  Ares...his mother had screwed up here, but at least Thethys was sure his habit to butcher everything he met and to go from battlefield to battlefield and slaughter millions was not something she had taught him.
  
  But Hephaestus held so much promise, and was able to do so many great things despite how he was raised and the obstacles placed in his way...
  
  "You are really not going to like our next conversation, Hera..."
  
  11 December 2006, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Hera shivered.
  
  It was strange, because she hadn't uttered the name of Khione, and her surroundings were anything but cold.
  
  She was going to blame this anomaly on Jackson. Somehow, it had to be his fault.
  
  "Well, what do you think, Antigone?"
  
  The former Goddess scowled. She had thought for a few hours that being exhausted was going to stop the son of Poseidon from using that ridiculous name. As always with this infernal sea spawn, Hera had been completely wrong.
  
  "I think my name is Hera. And that you are completely insane to let the Telekhines change the Forge per their monstrous whims. There are now water slides everywhere!"
  
  "First of all," the cheeky grin was back, unfortunately, "the whims are mine, though obviously our dear allies didn't raise an objection."
  
  "You put half a dozen enormous hot pools in your Grand Strategium!" the former member of the Olympian Council snapped. "A quarter of the Forge of All Perils is a combination of fire and water right now!"
  
  Hera wished she was joking, but it wasn't the case. The Telekhines had built a massive desalination plant from scratch, making sure there was water both for industrial and leisure purposes.
  
  Even here, high in the Forge, one couldn't miss the colossal effort to change the Forge into something where fire and water coexisted.
  
  "Only a quarter? Disappointing." The bastard had the gall to pout! "We will have to do better."
  
  "The temperatures are unbearable!"
  
  "That's why I told everyone to go into swimsuits, your fallen divinity."
  
  "I won't don these damned atrocities against all fashion sense, Jackson!" These orange abominations were an insult to every swimsuit which had ever existed.
  
  "Well, if you wanted to wear something else, you would have bought brand-new swimsuits yourself!"
  
  "How would I have done that when I have no funds save the allocations you give me? And of course these allocations pay for other things but my clothes?"
  
  But to her fury, Jackson had already turned his head and began to ignore her the moment she asked the first question.
  
  Instead, the Earthshaker's son began to speak with the former Huntress.
  
  "Is the pain tolerable this morning?"
  
  "It is. I did as you instructed; I am almost certain I had a vision of her, of being trapped inside a cold substance...of the cold and power of the Drakons changing me. And when I woke up...well, see for yourself."
  
  The X-Suit Jade had donned after the battle against Fimbulvetr withdrew from her arms, revealing that they were entirely covered in black and white scales.
  
  Hera shivered. The idea of a Demigoddess or a mortal changing to suit the whims of a Goddess was not something she had ever seen for herself...and it put her ill-at-ease, because it was reminding her how powerless she was.
  
  That a second later five small claws emerged from the tips of the fingers was not reassuring at all either.
  
  "No pain?"
  
  "None. And the claws are perfectly retractable."
  
  "The rest?"
  
  The X-Suit changed to become a one-piece swimsuit of dark blue. It was a conservative piece of cloth, by the standards of the Suicide Squad - Perseus Jackson and several boys were going bare-chested, and many girls were in two-pieces swimsuits which revealed most of their bodies.
  
  But that Jade was adopting it of her own volition showed how much the former Huntress had changed mentally.
  
  Of course, the changes weren't limited to the mind. The arms were covered in scales of black and white, but the legs and the rest of Jade's body had scales too. She was taller; before the battle, the teenage girl had been roughly as tall as Hera's; now she was a good head taller. And she had gained a significant musculature too.
  
  Khione was not trying to change her new lieutenant so that she had a copy of Clarisse La Rue in the end. Jade would be far stronger than many officers of the Suicide Squad when her changes would be over, but she would keep a recognisable womanly body.
  
  And the emphasis on the womanly was important.
  
  All Huntresses of Artemis looked like teenagers, and Jade had already abandoned that behind. The new lieutenant of Khione was a young woman now. Her face had taken older traits in addition to luscious black hair. She was also the only member of the Suicide Squad to have her skin become paler, not more tanned, after the Telekhines began to pour more heat and water into the Forge of All Perils. And last remarkable detail...her eyes were now a deep blue, the fury of the blizzards contained in human irises.
  
  "The changes are strange when they happen, but I get use to them. The worst part is to learn how to fight again. Most of my talent with a bow is gone."
  
  "I see." Jackson nodded as he examined many of her growing scales. If another man had done it, Hera would have thought the boy was a pervert, but for all his flaws, the son of Poseidon was all business when he was examining the results of Khione's 'blessings'. "Well, the transition is proceeding well for now. If the pain suddenly becomes too much, come to find me immediately, I have some painkillers which should be useful."
  
  "I will."
  
  "I don't understand," Hera shook her head, "why her Goddess is giving her so much power. Is it because she wants to insult the Goddess of the Hunt?"
  
  Perseus Jackson smiled.
  
  "I'm not going to say it didn't play a part. The two Goddesses...are not the best of friends, shall we say?"
  
  Jade snorted.
  
  "They hate each other's guts, you mean. Not that my Lady is the only one to feel the scorn of the Hunt and the Moon. The Goddess of Love is likely the Olympian they are the most insulting about."
  
  "Well, if you say no, who I am to naysay it?" the son of Poseidon said lightly. "But there are other reasons when it comes to the differences of how each Goddess empowers her lieutenants. Jade's former mistress has clearly made the choice of quantity combined with low investment."
  
  Hera frowned.
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  "You haven't checked their numbers recently, I take it." For once, Perseus was presenting a serious expression. "I was never able to get a precise order of battle, but I am near-certain they are over five thousand Huntresses in active service as we speak. And yes, I think it is part of the reason why she didn't intervene when you asked for her help against Fimbulvetr. One or two servants dying in battle is a humiliation, but it is something that will be easily compensated for. In fact, even if the nine sent for this Great Quest were all killed, the losses would be negated in a few years, and that's likely a worst-case scenario."
  
  "But losing one Huntress to another Goddess is a far bigger blow," Jade didn't snarl, but she didn't like the news Jackson had delivered.
  
  "In terms of power lost, no." The Demigod replied. "As I said, the investment of the Goddess is minimal in each of you. The loss was titanic only in terms of prestige."
  
  "Empowering five thousand girls must not be cheap, Jackson," she tried to find a counter, though not because Artemis deserved it. "This is a Legion in all but name."
  
  "It isn't exactly cheap, but remembers the main benefit is immortality. As such, there aren't really hundreds of Huntresses recruited every year. And the benefit is obvious for the Goddess: she has probably the most experienced military force of Olympus, at least when it comes to the semi-mortal side of the battlefield. It is a very good thing they are trained in hunting groups, not as Legionnaire Cohorts, otherwise all male Demigods would be in extreme danger."
  
  On that point, Hera had no counter-argument. A Legion of Huntresses, trained both for massive battles and hunting operations in the wild, would be a nightmare to deal with.
  
  "Some girls have a bit more power than others," Jackson continued, "Phoebe and Zoë Nightshade are good examples of it, or in the former's case, she was a good example of it. But while they were or are senior Huntresses, they aren't that much imbued with divine power. A lot of their superiority came from their divine parentage, not what the Virgin Goddess gave them in the first place.
  
  "That would certainly explain some things," Jade said grimly. The former Huntress looked really, really unhappy.
  
  Perseus Jackson shrugged.
  
  "To be fair, I don't think it began as a true strategy, but as most of the monster-hunting isn't really dangerous when you have a Goddess watching over you, the equivalent of giving some girls a teacup worth of divine power proved efficient and not worth changing. By contrast, the new Goddess of Ice Drakons clearly thinks her lieutenants have to be powerful. The good old tradition of quality over quantity, if you will."
  
  Hera wasn't stupid; the similarities between what Khione had been doing and what Perseus Jackson was pushing for were obvious. Where the Gods had favoured a large Expeditionary Force to the Sea of Monsters, Perseus Jackson had chosen a single ship and a crew of a few dozen Demigods and Demigoddesses.
  
  It had its advantages.
  
  But it also had its weaknesses. In a single battle, they had lost four members of the Suicide Squad, and while a Legion would have shrugged at such insignificant losses, this had been a large percentage of their initial complement.
  
  Hera said it aloud now.
  
  "You may choose quality, but we can't endure these casualties for long. Otherwise you may be the only one returning to New Byzantium, Jackson."
  
  "Don't worry your pretty little head, dear Antigone Barbara." The fallen Goddess immediately scowled. "There are plans implemented as we speak to make sure our losses are made good."
  
  This didn't reassure her; in fact, these words spoken with a smirk made her instantly wary.
  
  "What sort of plans are we speaking about?"
  
  11 December 2006, Titan Containment Facility Number Five, Sea of Monsters
  
  Elvis Knight didn't like being woken up in the middle of the night, especially after having taken the first watch.
  
  But the expression of the Legionnaire who woke up stopped his groan before it happened.
  
  "We have visitors, Centurion."
  
  Since there wasn't any sound of fighting, and their musician hadn't played the music to call them to battle, it meant they weren't inherently hostile.
  
  "Visitors from New Constantinople?"
  
  The other Demigod grimaced.
  
  "No...you'd better come and speak to them in person."
  
  Elvis was intrigued, but decided he could wait for a few seconds. He donned his armour and his helmet - this was the Sea of Monsters, and enemies had come from the sea since their arrival here - before leaving his tent.
  
  Two Legionnaires escorted him to the 'visitor', under the light of the torches, as the moonlight was completely absent tonight. When he saw them, the stupefaction was total. Because these were monsters. While many dangers had been underestimated or outright ignored, this species had been mentioned in many war councils.
  
  "You are Tele-"
  
  "Shush! Shush!" the enormous bipedal shark-looking monster placed a hand-fin before his maw, "we are dolphins! Nice dolphins! See? We have the right colours!"
  
  This had to be the most stupid thing he'd heard this year, and he had been forced to listen to Eustache's rants. Of course, these were Telekhines, not dolphins, some paint wouldn't change anything to that!
  
  But they were here, and they definitely had not come to attack them; otherwise why take the risk to wake them all?
  
  "Speak your piece...dolphin. Why are you here?"
  
  "I am Lenny of the Honourable Family. It's a pleasure to meet you, Centurion Elvis Knight!"
  
  There was something worse about watching the shark grin; it was to realise the Telekhine was far better informed about you than you were about him.
  
  "As for why am here, I have been chosen to be the humble messenger of Perseus Jackson, the Glorious Preserver, First and Only Leader of the Suicide Squad."
  
  That name...well, everyone had heard of it, unless you were trying to your best to live alone cut off from all communications.
  
  It was relatively good news. Sure, the Suicide Squad had a lot of Greeks and couldn't boast of incredible numbers, but at least they had survived a Great Quest before, and survived crazy situations that were common in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  "I'm pleased to hear that. When is the Suicide Squad going to arrive to reinforce us?"
  
  The five Telekhines behind the emissary laughed. Even the polite Telekhine seemed to find his words very amusing. Elvis didn't like that at all.
  
  "My apologies for the misconceptions, Centurion," it was weird to see a shark apologise...and apparently mean it. "The Preserver wants you to reinforce the Suicide Squad, not the contrary."
  
  "Ridiculous," a Legionnaire by his right scoffed. "We must easily have twice the manpower of the Greeks! What drugs did this insolent commander take to be convinced he can command us?"
  
  "Drugs I don't know," Lenny countered, "but he has a large ship able to sail under its own power, a considerable armament, the Forge he killed a Drakon to seal the alliance with the Family, and plenty of redoubtable Demigods and Demigoddesses by his side. Oh, and he has the favour of many Goddesses too."
  
  The eyes of the Telekhine turned towards the wreck of the Hispania, and to say 'Lenny' was impressed would be a lie.
  
  "By comparison, err...your ship seems to have a small problem, Centurion."
  
  Some Legionnaires snickered, the traitors.
  
  "I'm aware the Hispania is missing its prow, dolphin." Elvis Knight replied, not feeling amused in the least. "You are a messenger. Give me the message of the son of Poseidon."
  
  "Oh, yes, the message!" a large bag was launched on the beach, and a large scroll was drawn from it. "The Preserver, the mighty Drakon-Slayer, is happy to tell you news of your desperate situation has reached him! As such, he is ready to provide a submarine method of transport - that's us, by the way - so that you are able to heal your wounded and regain your strength within the mighty natural and metallic defences of the Forge of All Perils!"
  
  The smile, for all its 'gentleness', decided to become very shark-like suddenly.
  
  "But obviously, you must officially become part of the Suicide Squad first. I'm afraid this is non-negotiable."
  
  "I suppose there is more to it about the fifty-two surviving Legionnaires present on this island recognising him as the supreme commander of this expedition." Elvis Knight said prudently.
  
  "I'm glad you're so quick to understand. The Preserver told me all was explained in the scroll!"
  
  A scroll which found itself in his hands without warning. Elvis gave a dark glance to the Telekhine, before beginning to read.
  
  It took him three lines to stop.
  
  "He's not serious!"
  
  "I can tell you...he is."
  
  "Such terms would make us no better than looters, servants, or whatever role he has in mind for us, and the vows would be enforced by magic, superseding those we swore to New Constantinople!"
  
  "Yes!" Lenny shook his enormous head rapidly. "I am so glad you understand, I was a bit less confident than the Preserver you would arrive at that conclusion so fast."
  
  Elvis didn't know if he had to feel honoured or insulted by the comment.
  
  "My Legionnaires won't accept that. I won't accept that. I want to speak to the son of Poseidon. Don't tell me he didn't give you the authority to negotiate in-"
  
  "Release me, you brutes!"
  
  Hey, he recognised that voice!
  
  More torches were brought about, and the Centurion of the Twelfth Legio widened his eyes as he saw the pirate-mistress of the island, Anne Bonny herself, be dragged across the beach by a couple of Telekhines.
  
  The daughter of Demeter was shouting and screaming, and it wasn't difficult to find out why: the massive shark-like monsters had captured her with a gigantic magical net, one whose parts shone in a sort of dark miasma.
  
  "Mission accomplished, Lenny. That was really easy. She put up a fight, but the Preserver was right about her capabilities."
  
  "Err..." Elvis suddenly found himself completely taken aback. "You are aware she can't leave the island, right? This is part of her curse!"
  
  "Shush!" the Telekhine made a contemptuous move with his fin. "She is not leaving the island of her own volition, she is kidnapped! And to make sure the kidnapping sticks, we used one of our first-class nets! If we had brought Atlantean fighters with us, they would have told you the things are near-unbreakable without divine help!"
  
  Suddenly disinterested from the negotiation, the seemingly-young Telekhine went in the direction of the pirate daughter of Demeter.
  
  "Rejoice, pirate! You have been captured by the Family, under the orders of Perseus Jackson the Preserver! Welcome to the Suicide Squad!"
  
  "Hey! What about us?"
  
  "Sorry," the Telekhine didn't seem to be sorry at all, "but the primary mission passes above all, and this pirate being kidnapped is my primary mission. I promise we will find a transport or two for you...as soon as this war is over...you shouldn't have to wait for long...maybe a couple of years?"
  
  "You forget to mention," another Telekhine added in a thoughtful pause, "that the Olympians are going to need a new Warden as soon as the sun rises here and they discover our kidnapping. Since they will be in a happy mood, I have absolutely no doubt they will react calmly to this little problem."
  
  There was no need to be a genius to understand the hidden message behind these sentences. Anne Bonny no longer playing her role, the Gods were going to replace a Warden by fifty-two Wardens. They, Legionnaires of New Constantinople, would be near-immortal...and condemned to guard the prison of the Titan until someone came to relieve them of their curse, one way or another.
  
  Now Elvis Knight knew why the Telekhines hadn't attacked, and Perseus Jackson had been confident when writing this ultimatum on the scroll of parchment. There had been no need to, not when Anne Bonny was their prisoner.
  
  This was an insult against the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legio as a whole.
  
  It was a clear sign the son of Poseidon was utterly insane, not that they needed really that confirmation, with the evidence the mad Demigod had allied with Telekhines of all monsters!
  
  Elvis felt like kicking himself at the very idea of saying the words, but there was no choice. Looking at his Legionnaires, he could see already a dozen of them were ready to do everything to avoid the fate that had been Anne Bonny's for centuries. Give it a few more seconds, and all his authority would be gone, never to return.
  
  "And should we decide that, by a strange coincidence, we have found out a sudden interest in volunteering to join the Suicide Squad?"
  
  "Why then," it was really, really disturbing to see a Telekhine smile so gently, "I suppose the Family will do its utmost to provide you a transport to the Sea of Monsters while a repair team works upon the Hispania at night."
  
  12 December 2006, Hades' Barracks, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  For a second, Nico thought the Iris message had a massive problem.
  
  But no, once the image was properly stabilised, the son of Hades could see he wasn't dreaming; Perseus Jackson was indeed drinking some kind of beverage in a crystal cup while knee-deep in a large pool. Behind him, there was a cascade of lava being funnelled into some enormous pipes and foundry machines. And why was Perseus way too old, given how little time had passed?
  
  "Nico!" the Hellhound next to him barked. "Oh, and hello to you to, Zoë."
  
  The second bark was more powerful, as if the Underworld-born female was telling him 'apologies not accepted!'
  
  That was how the son of Poseidon took it too, by the way.
  
  "I know you are unhappy, but there wasn't simply enough room for you aboard the Inevitable Doom." Perseus continued. "And honestly, with so many Huntresses aboard, you wouldn't have been safe."
  
  "WOOF!"
  
  "Yes, Asterius volunteered, but he can stay out of the way when the situation is too tense. You can't and won't."
  
  "WOOF!"
  
  "And I am going to shamelessly bribe you; we are saving you a few delicious Drakon bones to play with."
  
  "WOOF! WOOF!"
  
  And the Hellhound ran away from the room, certainly to dream upon the fantastic toys and reward waiting for it in the future.
  
  "Now that my favourite Hellhound is gone...how is life at New Byzantium?"
  
  "Oh, you know, your survival has enraged pretty much everyone who bet against your survival," the son of Hades said cheekily. "About two-thirds of the Romans gambled you weren't going to survive forty-eight hours once you were in the Sea of Monsters. They are very disappointed."
  
  "But they paid their debts?"
  
  "Oh, they paid...err...the speed may have something to do with Lord D. insisting he wouldn't look fondly at the ones which didn't respect 'that betting against a Priest of Madness has its consequences'.
  
  "I knew I could count on Lord D.," the black-haired boy said while placing his crystal glass on the black mosaic making most of the pool's edge.
  
  "Err...yes." The more he observed, the more he was sure... "You are really older." The son of Hades blurted. "It's not an illusion, the ASN didn't speak of that..."
  
  "If you learn only one thing from me, beyond how to get beaten at Mythomagic games, of course, learn this, Nico: power always comes with a price." The leader of the Suicide Squad grimaced. "The Drakon was way more dangerous than I thought, and I was forced to do something ridiculously heroic. As a result, I am resting most of the time."
  
  "Oh." That was really humbling, there weren't any Demigods and Demigoddesses that were more powerful than Perseus and his sister. "Bianca is fine?"
  
  "Bianca is more than fine," Perseus reassured him. "She's busy cancelling hundreds of curses and opening the vaults of the Forge of All Perils. You should be more worried about those who are trying to keep up with her. Even Castellan, our thief extraordinaire, has not opened as many vaults and cleared as many trophy halls as she did."
  
  Nico laughed.
  
  "That sounds like her...triumphant upon a pile of treasures and weapons." The young Demigod smiled. "You sound like you have things well in hand in your new Forge and headquarters. Do you want me to trick more Romans into betting against your survival? I'm afraid the Greek Questers are refusing to gamble anymore...the Hermes kids' next trick is about a charity organisation called the 'Kaiju Preservation Society', by the way."
  
  "That sounds awesome! But no, no more gambles. It was much more about giving them a lesson of humility than the money by itself. Between the loot of the Forge of All Perils and other plans I have urged my lieutenants to prepare, money won't be a problem anymore...as far as this Quest is concerned, of course."
  
  "That's good to hear." Nico answered honestly.
  
  "It is, it is. Thus my next request has nothing to do with Drachmas, Denarii, or anything that is associated with any divine currency. I've not frequented them assiduously, but I am aware there are several big libraries within this fair city of Demigods."
  
  "Err...yes," the son of Hades was taken aback by the change of subject. "You want me to research something?"
  
  "I want you to hire researchers," the son of Poseidon corrected immediately.
  
  "This is about the rumours spreading about a 'Sire of Drakons', isn't it?"
  
  "Absolutely not."
  
  Nico blinked; well so much for his best guess...
  
  "That was a good try, don't worry. But you mustn't mistake the trees for the forest. And now that I am thinking about it, it will be better if you hire a few librarians in my name. Use the secret purse I gave you. We might as well convince our enemies we are searching via the official and obvious ways."
  
  "That's...clever." Nico cleared his throat. "But now that you told me what I am not supposed to look for, what is the thing you want me to discover?"
  
  "Using all the cunning you are capable of, and taking great care to not attract attention, I want you to collect information about the Empty Throne." Perseus' deadly serious expression made it clear how important the mission was. "Be careful, and always keep Zoë close."
  
  "Err...the Empty Throne is well...empty."
  
  "I know. And yet, for some reason, nobody is worried about what happened to the Great God Pan."
  
  12 December 2006, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  You could say a lot of things about the Telekhines. They were flesh-eating monsters. Their respect for the laws of war was more or less equal to what Perseus believed in, which was to say 'none at all'.
  
  But you couldn't accuse them of laziness. For all the fact they had to be fewer than one hundred of them and the Forge of All Perils was beyond gigantic, they had launched themselves into the process of restoring and modernising the immense volcanic headquarters and its gargantuan machines.
  
  And they were working fast. Obviously, it was still going to take years before the Forge of All Perils didn't look like a worksite, but they had managed to build a missile production line, a proper dock for the Inevitable Doom, and moved several weapon launchers which had devastated part of the Triumvirate forces. Sure, the Suicide Squad had provided help, but something told Drew that aside from the Drakonic curses, the Telekhines would have been fine on their own.
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite calmly saluted the shark-like predators mounting guard as she entered the Grand Strategium, and once more rejoice she was in a swimsuit.
  
  Much like a good part of the Forge which was restored day after day, the atmosphere here was one of water and fire.
  
  At first, Drew had thought it was strange, even for Perseus Jackson, which proved how much her standards for proper insanity had changed since she 'volunteered' for the First Great Quest.
  
  But after the first couple of days, the worries about being cooked alive had gone missing.
  
  The working conditions in the middle of the water and the fire seemed hellish at first glance, but they were getting stronger. Well, maybe apart from Jade, whose increases in strength had nothing to do with fire, and more to do than she was developing the ability to change into a miniature Drakon.
  
  But otherwise, they were all able to carrying far greater charges than they should, and while at the beginning they shouldn't have survived in the steamy hell, sweating to death in mere minutes, now they were more or less tolerating it...and the fact they were getting stronger made it even more tolerable.
  
  Drew approached the seat-throne of the Strategium...which was empty, as Perseus was taking a bath in a pool nearby.
  
  "Frankie gave me the message that ten more siege-level batteries are now in service, Perseus." The daughter of Aphrodite cleared her throat. "One team is busy fortifying them properly, so that they will be able to endure a punishing bombardment without problem. A few workers are now going to focus on the problem of the anti-air guns. There should be a solution proposed in a day or two."
  
  "Excellent! The joy of having competent subordinates, I suppose."
  
  Perseus turned towards her...and to her pleasant surprise, for once, he seemed taken aback. He wasn't looking at her like she was an asset to vivisect...but like a young woman in a black swimsuit.
  
  It didn't last too long, obviously, his usual smiling expression returned very fast, but it had been there.
  
  Drew gave a questioning look to Lou Ellen...and the daughter of Hecate made a few silent signs which reassured her. 'You can look, but don't touch' was a clear message.
  
  Well, the daughter of Aphrodite was certainly looking. Perseus was now older, and since he had nothing but a swimming short on him, there was nothing that stopped her from admiring his muscled chest. And there were many muscles to admire. Perseus was not Richard Grant, who justified his nickname of 'mountain of muscles', but his built was on par with Castellan: built for speed and lethal.
  
  "Out of all officers, you were among the ones who didn't request personal meetings in the last days."
  
  "Why would I have?" Drew asked. "Unlike others, I am not going to ask why I wasn't volunteered for the Drakon fight: I know very well I would have died faster than the Huntresses, thank you very much."
  
  Her Charmspeak could have dealt with a few dozen Frost Iguanas, but the black-haired Demigoddess wasn't enough arrogant to convince herself she would have survived a battle against thousands of them.
  
  And even if by a major miracle she survived the first battle, it had been confirmed beyond doubt Fimbulvetr was immune to Charmspeak. That would have been her end, much like Douglas Smith died without achieving anything.
  
  "Nice job removing the worst of the Huntresses, by the way. The survivors are way quieter."
  
  "Why does everyone assume I am trying to eliminate the servants of the Eternal Virgin?" Perseus complained aloud.
  
  The two Demigoddesses gave him pointed expressions that clearly intimated him to stop the masquerade.
  
  "Alright, maybe that detail was part of my plan," the son of Poseidon snorted after a couple of seconds. "I have a mission for you."
  
  "If that's building a new Jacuzzi for today, I will have to decline. The same applies to slides, pools, saunas, and other water-purposed infrastructure like aqueducts."
  
  "I'm not speaking about the little missions most of the Suicide Squad is busy with for now." Perseus left the pool, and took an orange towel thrown by Lou Ellen while marching towards his throne-seat and pressing a few buttons, that, as far as she was aware, were activating the anti-spy devices of the Grand Strategium. The massive doors had closed while she wasn't paying attention too.
  
  Suddenly, the reason why the Jacuzzi-pools and every part of the Strategium were deserted at this hour became suddenly far more interesting.
  
  "I have received an answer from the Goddess of Spring, former wife of the Rich One. She is willing to be our ally during the next battle...and she has chosen a Champion of all the officers of the Suicide Squad. It's you."
  
  "Me?" Drew gaped. "There has to be a mistake. What did I do to annoy this Goddess recently?"
  
  Perseus chuckled, before Lou Ellen slapped him on the arm.
  
  "Well, to begin with, you didn't trap her in a cage like a certain Lightning Thief we know. And you are a Demigoddess. The Goddess of Spring doesn't share the Huntresses' hatred for men, but she was never going to choose a male to be her Champion, now that I wasn't available. And before you say anything, choosing me wasn't a vote of confidence in men, just the recognition I am the most powerful Demigod she could fight with."
  
  "I...I understand." The daughter of Aphrodite grimaced. "Would it be too much to hope the mission in question is incredibly easy and represents no danger whatsoever?"
  
  "It is too much to hope, yes." Perseus grinned before becoming a bit more serious. "As a matter of fact, the mission is horribly dangerous, and you deeds will need to be executed perfectly if you are to survive."
  
  "If it is a motivation speech, I want you to know it sucks."
  
  This time, it was Lou Ellen who giggled, and Perseus huffed.
  
  "Well, I can lie and do it better!" the son of Poseidon rose from his throne, and waved his hand like a conjuror about to astonish the audience. "It is your time to shine! You will win eternal fame, and be the star of the show-battle!"
  
  "Isn't that your job?" she couldn't resist the jab.
  
  "The Demigoddesses of the Suicide Squad begin to have a lot of skill when it comes to repartees."
  
  "You trained us so well," the blonde daughter of Hecate giggled.
  
  Perseus huffed again, using his orange towel as an improvised pillow on this seat-throne.
  
  "And yes, technically, I am supposed to steal everyone's glory, amaze my enemies by my sneaky and underhanded tactics. Unfortunately, while I have begun to recover my health and my strength, I am still exhausted from this little squabble with the Drakon. That may have not stopped me, but there's also the problem that if I try a bigger stunt by myself so fast after the Forge of All Perils, the Olympians are going to be very unhappy."
  
  "That makes sense, but you could have imposed Clarisse to the Goddess."
  
  "First, I want to correct some misconceptions. I can't order her around. She's still a Goddess. I can just use her jealousy and her powerful emotions to guide her upon the path I want her to take. And while Clarisse will have an important part to play in the coming battle, she's not the one I want to fight and win. It's you."
  
  In many ways, the words were flattering.
  
  "You could explain it to her." Lou Ellen's tone was strong...and not for the first time, Perseus took it seriously before nodding.
  
  "Very well. To be blunt, Drew, most of the Demigods and Demigoddesses are way too weak as they are now. This isn't the Quest to recover the Master Bolt. Ingenuity will only carry us so far before failing. If we are lucky and the traps waiting for us are manageable, we may only lose four or five members in the next battle to recover the Golden Fleece." The green-eyed Demigod paused. "And if we are unlucky, if the Sire of Drakons prepares us a trap I didn't account for, or if the Triumvirate is given time to make one more reinforcement effort, it is possible any battlefield will be the end of this Quest, by virtue of not having enough Demigods and Demigoddesses left alive. As it stands, there are four members who can survive major threats: Bianca, Jade, Lou Ellen, and myself. Everyone else will die if enough weapons find their mark."
  
  "Oh..." for a few seconds, the daughter of Aphrodite had nothing to say. "Fine, I understand the principle behind your extremely dangerous plan. Even if I don't understand what I can do to help a Goddess. I am trying to improve my Charmspeak as fast as possible, but as you hinted before, there are no miracles here."
  
  "I know." The leader of the Suicide Squad shook his head. "That's why I want you to test one of the Telekhines' inventions."
  
  "I was under the impression the Telekhines' main hobby was to build weapons, not things which increase the physical capabilities of Demigods and Demigoddesses."
  
  "The Telekhines' great passions are Forges and Weapons," the black-haired boy insisted on the two words, so insistent in fact you couldn't miss the capital letters. "But there are weapons, and well...they are Weapons."
  
  If the intention was to reassure her, it utterly failed.
  
  "And how dangerous is this weapon?"
  
  "Well..." Lou Ellen glared at Perseus, who rolled his eyes. "If it fails, the weapon will destroy you from the inside. You will have the satisfaction to have slaughtered a lot of enemies, though."
  
  "I would prefer to live," Drew peevishly remarked. "Why don't you to make sure the Telekhines stabilise your too-dangerous weapon before giving it to me?"
  
  "Because there's no way to stabilise it. The only way that can make this weapon stable is a total victory, one which sees a certain artefact recovered."
  
  "The Golden Fleece."
  
  "Precisely."
  
  Drew hesitated.
  
  "And if I say no?"
  
  Perseus shrugged.
  
  "I will have to use another plan altogether. Fortunately, I am very good at finding alternatives. But I have to warn you: there may be not another chance to gain enough power to make your survival certain for the next battles."
  
  "Or could stop adding cryptic remarks one after another, and tell her your genial plan..." Lou Ellen smirked.
  
  "Someone is trying to ruin my fun," Perseus replied peevishly. "Fine, but I am doing it my way. Have you heard of the tale of Captain Ahab the Stubborn?"
  
  13 December 2006, the Vaults, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Luke had never had any doubts he was skilled when it came to opening vaults and other places.
  
  But there was skill, and then there was what the daughter of Hades was able to do.
  
  Bianca di Angelo often smashed her way through the protections while he was still scratching his head wondering how to enter without triggering all the traps.
  
  Some lesser thieves would have said it was unfair, for the Lightning Thief had the Curse of Achilles to protect herself. Luke would be prompt to retort that often, there was not a scratch on her clothes. Really, what the sorceress could not fight against was the impressive amounts of dust which had accumulated over the last millennium.
  
  And if you thought the traps weren't redoubtable...well, it was better to think again and revaluate your assumptions.
  
  Luke and his partner-in-crimes had found a lot of the pirates who had been part of Drake's and the conquistador's doomed expeditions. None seemed to have managed to break into the vaults before dying.
  
  "This last vault better be worth it," a Telekhine groaned, as the shark resurfaced from being thrown into a trap where he had to fight against crocodile automatons. For all the toughness of the Telekhines, it was clear it had not been an easy fight.
  
  "The more defended the vaults were, so far, the more valuable the treasures contained within it were," the son of Hermes answered. "And even the smaller and less important vaults had a lot of rare things."
  
  The Trophy Halls - which to be clear, were not part of the vaults - would already have been enough to satisfy the thirst of looting of the average Demigod. Once the curses had been removed after Perseus killed the Drakon, confirmation had quickly come that several of the trophies had truly been wielded by deities once upon a time.
  
  Assuredly, most of them were completely obsolete today, courtesy of having remained an eternity inside the ice-covered Forge of All Perils, but for Demigods, this was priceless loot.
  
  And once you came into the vaults, just watching it was enough for an honest thief to drool.
  
  "Your ancestors love the poisoned barbed arrows."
  
  "They loved everything lethal," the Telekhine complained, "and the more murderously efficient, the better. No sense of humour, it was better for them to get the job quickly. Unfortunately, it didn't do them much good when the Drakon came."
  
  An enormous amount of flames rose in the tunnel, before disappearing as fast it had arrived.
  
  "Sorceress! We told you to try to unlock the complex mechanisms first!"
  
  "I tried, it didn't work!" Bianca di Angelo was utterly unrepentant. "Now stop wasting my time, and help me pushing. Melting some parts isn't just enough by itself!"
  
  An order was an order, and Luke took position once it was clear the fire magic of Hades' daughter had dissipated completely.
  
  Naturally, it took four Telekhines and two Demigods to finish the job and finally open the vault by force of arms.
  
  But once they had a glance of what was inside...
  
  "Gold!" Yes, a Telekhine could drool at the sight of too much wealth. "Imperial Gold! Beautiful Imperial Gold!
  
  "Celestial Bronze! Think of all the weapons we can forge with so many ingots!"
  
  "Adamantine! The legacy of our race! It is here the Adamantine was stored!"
  
  Well...Jackson hadn't lied. They were going to be very, very rich once this Quest was over.
  
  Okay, they hadn't been exactly poor. At least the Demigods and Demigoddesses who had participated in the First Quest to recover the Master Bolt hadn't been.
  
  But that kind of wealth...even if they let the Telekhines have half of this vault, Luke was sure they could easily earn several millions of Drachmas individually once the spoils were divided.
  
  There were neat pyramidal-shaped mountains of some of the rarest and most useful metals everywhere.
  
  And when Luke said 'mountains', he wasn't joking.
  
  The vault was gigantic, and so was the quantity of Celestial Bronze - just to name one metal - stockpiled here.
  
  "If I had known," Bianca di Angelo said mournfully, "I wouldn't have wasted my time trying to open my father's vaults. I should have met Jackson before and convinced him to attack this Forge earlier! Why did I waste my time in Hell?"
  
  "Because you were trying to become a Goddess?" Luke suggested cheekily.
  
  "Ah, yes..." like he had said before, the Lightning Thief was completely unrepentant when it came to past crimes and deeds.
  
  "Note that I am not complaining, but I don't see any Orichalcum."
  
  "Too valuable to be stockpiled here, I'm afraid," the daughter of Hades immediately replied.
  
  "And besides," the younger Telekhine added after a wince, "we never had a lot of it. Orichalcum can only be created using divine ichor, and for some reason, the Gods and the Goddesses were never fond of bleeding in our Forges."
  
  "I can't see why," Luke joked, before turning as footsteps echoed on the avenue where they had just removed most of the traps. "Hey, Dakota! Be careful, we don't know if we found every-"
  
  Spikes fell from the ceiling, and the son of Bacchus avoided a very unpleasant death by a very timely roll.
  
  "Is there really so much gold in front of me, or did I just hurt my head too badly?"
  
  "There is really that much Imperial Gold bullion in that vault, don't worry."
  
  "Oh, good..." Dakota mumbled. "Ah, I have a message from Jackson. The visitors he awaited have finally arrived."
  
  "The Telekhine leadership?" Jackson had given them enough not-subtle tirades that the 'Godfather' was coming in person.
  
  "The Telekhine leadership, several Legionnaires of the Expeditionary Force that have just been rescued, and his half-sister the Goddess Rhode."
  
  The first two were not completely surprising, the third however...
  
  "Why would a daughter of Poseidon bother coming to the Forge of All Perils?"
  
  "Because millennia ago, she was our Protector and Goddess!" a Telekhine promptly answered the question. "The Redeemer didn't inform you?"
  
  Luke sighed theatrically. The reaction of the Demigoddess was...acidic.
  
  "No, no I think he must have forgotten to inform of us about this tiny and unimportant issue."
  
  If Bianca di Angelo used more sarcasm, there would be a flood of it inside the Forge.
  
  "A War Council is called." Dakota swallowed heavily, as the terrifying sorceress gave him a withering glare. "Err...don't kill me?"
  
  "I am not going to kill you!" Bianca proclaimed. "I can't promise I will be able to control myself where this crazy Demigod is concerned...what possessed me to accept his leadership?"
  
  "The fact you hadn't a choice in the first place? ARRRGGHHH!"
  
  Note for all Telekhines: not all truths were good to say out loud, especially in presence of an irate daughter of Hades...
  
  13 December 2006, Forge's Peak, Forge of All Perils
  
  From top, many would have thought it was not as impressive as when you saw the changes on the Docks, but in fact, it was the contrary.
  
  The volcanic Forge had been reawakened, and it could fulfil its purpose, now that the Drakonic taint was progressively purged from its foundries and halls.
  
  "Would you believe me, sister if I told you it was all part of the plan?"
  
  "No."
  
  Perseus chuckled...before coughing.
  
  Rhode sighed.
  
  "You should return to somewhere you can heal properly...I've seen you have discovered the benefits of many Jacuzzis and other healing rooms."
  
  "I will go there directly once the Council is over."
  
  The daughter of Poseidon glared...but the green eyes so similar to hers were unable to make him blink.
  
  "You are as stubborn as she was."
  
  "I am going to take it as a compliment, sister."
  
  "Why I am not surprised?" Rhode asked rhetorically, shaking her head. "I will give it to you, though; while your plan came very close to a disaster, you managed to claw your way to victory. And ultimately, the reaction of your opposition was incredibly close to what you predicted."
  
  "This is the advantage of having relatively competent enemies." Perseus smirked. "They tend to follow rational plans, while I have no such weakness."
  
  The blonde-haired Goddess had the urge to return the smirk. After all, a lot of her original strength had just returned in mere days. She was the Goddess of everything beautiful under the sea, Protector of the Island of Rhodes...and the immortal who ruled the Telekhines and this Forge. The Light of the Sea, they called her. Too often the mortals had forgotten that in order to have light, you needed to lit an inferno first.
  
  It was pleasant to see so much of powers she had believed never to grasp for as long as she survived return to her immortal essence.
  
  But there were many perils which stood in the way.
  
  "I hate to say it, but in this case, the rationality has its merits. You are forced to come to them; the imbecile with the Master Bolt will not tolerate a failure, not after you proved your resourcefulness."
  
  "I know. This is why I'm going to change my method for the next island."
  
  "How so?" she asked with curiosity.
  
  "The actions taken against this Forge, sister, can be considered both offensive and defensive in nature. On the one hand, it was pure conquest and Drakon-slaying. On the other hand, we found a refuge, a supply base, and a fortress where the Triumvirate and other enemies must risk colossal losses if they want to dislodge us from it."
  
  "This reasoning sounds logical...in theory."
  
  "The next island is not going to be like that at all." Her young brother bared his teeth. "I am going to muster the Suicide Squad, the Telekhines, the Legionnaires who are fit to fight, and every bit of firepower I can take from the Forge of All Perils while keeping it suitably defended."
  
  The grin, while different, reminded Rhode a sibling she had lost.
  
  "And then I am going to crush everything defending this island. Save the Golden Fleece, they are all going to perish. Apart from this unique treasure, I don't want anything bigger than an insect to survive. Some parties are taking us seriously now. I want them incredibly concerned by the end of this. I want them shocked; I want them to shiver because it will be the Suicide Squad's officers accomplishing these exploits while I work upon my tan and drink an orange juice."
  
  "By the Great Reef..." unlike many Gods, Rhode had a fair idea of how much firepower was ready to be unleashed if Perseus gave the order. "No enemy will remain on this island."
  
  "Nothing at all." The leader of the Suicide Squad approved. "What awaits our foes is annihilation."
  
  Author's note: An Impractical Guide to Godhood will continue in the next chapter, which is (tentatively) titled Chapter 20 Annihilation Tide.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen (by order of death):
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber: now transformed into a golden penguin
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and swore herself to Khione
  
  Kimiko and Alexia - Huntresses: due to not donning their X-Suits, the two Huntresses are now cursed and have a few Drakonic mutations
  
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  Annihilation Tide
  Chapter 20
  
  Annihilation Tide
  
  Many Demigods are eager to give grandiose names to their military operations, be they Greek or Roman.
  
  This is something that began centuries ago, and will likely still be true centuries after this insane Great Quest.
  
  It is often a very dangerous thing. The enemy can be placed under the orders of a human or a monster, but he or she is not forced to behave stupidly. If you try to be too clever with your military operation name, it is quite likely your opponent will discover what you intend to do to his forces. And then he or she will have contingencies ready to make sure your offensive becomes a bloody defeat.
  
  This is why Demigods and Demigoddesses try their best to not shout the operation name across an entire Zone Mortalis before the offensive is officially over. And the competent sons and daughters of the Olympians tend to choose extremely cryptic names. The designation might be elegant or particularly ugly, but they have one common point: learning the name does not give you any information about the military operation itself.
  
  But our leader for this Great Quest was Perseus Jackson.
  
  As a consequence, the assault on the island where the Golden Fleece waited for us took the name of Operation Annihilation Tide.
  
  And the first phase would receive the absolutely unsubtle designation of Operation Doom Whale.
  
  That nobody on the enemy side had contingencies for what was about to unfold can be blamed on the sheer craziness of a certain son of Poseidon.
  
  The Triumvirate was not ready for the kind of madness that was about to be unleashed. But then to be fair, they were hardly the only ones...
  
  Extract from the Chapter 4 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2 by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  13 December 2006, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  In her memories, Anne didn't remember Demigods and Demigoddesses being so...eccentric. And most of those she had met after sailing for adventure had been pirates.
  
  That said, being eccentric also meant you were alive. Something few Olympian children could boast when the Sea of Monsters was involved. A handful of heroes thrived when facing the sea beasts and the lethal threats. Most were devoured or drowned before they were strong enough. While their name sounded like an insult and a taunt in one, the Suicide Squad had survived so far. This made them worthy of attention, if nothing else.
  
  Anne Bonny would have preferred them to not transform the inside of this mountain into a succession of massively heated pools. It was not a place a daughter of Demeter would ever feel comfortable.
  
  Then there was the indecent...'swimsuit' she had discarded her prison's clothes for. It was orange. It was bright. It looked something like whores would have worn in her time to attract clients.
  
  And no, that several other Demigoddesses wore 'swimsuits' that managed to be even more indecent wasn't a consolation.
  
  But unless she wanted to be cooked like a lobster, it wasn't like Anne had much of a choice.
  
  Indecent the 'swimsuit' might be, but there was an enchantment woven into it which allowed you to endure the heated water and the humidity of the halls without too much trouble. Courtesy of that, a Demigoddess like her could become stronger, day after day, until the 'swimsuit' would not be needed anymore...not that she intended to walk naked here, of course.
  
  There were monsters in this Forge, and the ones which had taken the appearance of massive sharks were just the ones honest about it. The true monsters were the ones hiding behind a human face.
  
  "Ah, the infamous Captain Anne Bonny," speaking of the Devil...green eyes feigning to be bored turned towards her, but Anne wasn't fooled. Between the enormous shark-shaped Telekhine who had been introduced as 'Don Lino' and this Demigod, the daughter of Demeter would take her chances with the Telekhine.
  
  "Captain Perseus Jackson," she knelt.
  
  "There's no need to kneel," the Lord of the Suicide Squad chuckled and intimated with a wave of his hand she could stand again. "I kidnapped you from your prison-island because the Family is towing a new bombardment ship here to reinforce my naval strength. I have need of a Captain for this proud addition to my forces...interested?"
  
  Anne almost asked him if he was mad. The idea of sailing again, the freedom to roam the seas with no curse chaining her soul...it was everything she had dreamed of for centuries.
  
  "Where is the trap?"
  
  Perseus Jackson showed her an evil grin that made her shiver.
  
  "I believe you are already familiar with the crew which will obey your orders."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  The exclamation had not come from her or any of the other Demigods and Demigoddesses who had been here when she entered. It had come from behind...from a massive group of Roman Demigods she was indeed very familiar with.
  
  This was the group of Demigods whose ship's damage had forced them to wait upon the beaches of the prison for weeks in the hope someone would come to rescue them.
  
  "Ah, Centurion Elvis Knight and other Legionnaires I didn't bother learning the name of," the bare-chested Demigod smiled while baring teeth that should never have been so threatening. "What a pleasure for you to be here in my humble Grand Strategium."
  
  Fifty-two Legionnaires glared fiercely at him...and Anne quickly noticed how much they were sweating and looking like they were about to boil like lobsters or some other nicely prepared crustacean in hot water. None of them had donned a 'swimsuit', by the looks of it.
  
  "This farce has lasted long enough, Jackson!" The leader of the Legionnaires barked. "We won't serve under a...a pirate!"
  
  "Oh?" The words were light, but the eyes suddenly became far more vicious and ruthless. "Are you saying you intend to break your oaths so quickly after I helped you escape this prison-island where your crippled ship forced you to stay until a Telekhine party rescued you? For shame, Centurion, for shame..."
  
  One of the Legionnaires, certainly one of the most stupid ones, was foolish enough to laugh.
  
  "What are you going to do? You haven't the right to give Legionnaires orders. You are a Greek! Leave the Expeditionary Force affairs to the real professionals and-"
  
  "Legionnaire Eustace," the son of Poseidon whimsically began, proving that his former assertion he had not bothered to learn their names was a lie, "failing to obey my orders is mutiny. But it isn't mutiny, isn't it? Otherwise...I would be forced to crucify the mutineers."
  
  And Anne had no doubt this monster would indeed do it. Quickly, efficiently...and without remorse.
  
  "You...but you need us!"
  
  "I need beings which will follow my orders." The son of Poseidon corrected with a dangerous smile. "If you think being Legionnaires is enough to convince me to spare you, let me disabuse you of that notion. I made a pact with several Roman officers before sailing away from New Constantinople. Unfortunately for you, it was with the Third Legio. For some reason I can't fathom, no one bothered to negotiate the return of the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legion. Therefore until the end of this Great Quest and the Gods themselves order me to let you go, you belong to me. Am I clear?"
  
  As several shark-shaped Telekhines had drawn some very sharp weapons and a few members of the Suicide Squad looked like they were ready to kill them here and now, the Legionnaires didn't wait more than a few heartbeats before nodding and whispering new oaths of allegiance.
  
  Anne wasn't about to trust them after such a display, evidently.
  
  She had sailed with several crews in the past, and this one had 'treachery' painted in bright red letters upon the hull.
  
  "Good! You will all serve under Captain Anne Bonny aboard the Bombardment Galleon Second Chance."
  
  "And...err...the Telekhines?" Naturally, one of the Legionnaires was a bit slow to understand.
  
  There was a loud sigh.
  
  "Ten of you are not sufficiently recovered to participate in the next battle. They will recover in this very Forge...under the vigilance of the Honourable Family. If you are stupid enough to break your oaths, your ten friends will pay the price. Is it clear enough for you?"
  
  It was, not that Anne had needed these last sentences. She didn't know what kind of contracts and alliances Perseus Jackson had made with the Telekhines and other forces, but one couldn't fail to see it was rock solid. The Legionnaires and Anne were the parties that could be sacrificed if they caused too much trouble, not the shark monsters.
  
  "Now these tragic but necessary precisions have been made...bard, play us some music!"
  
  One of the blonde-haired Demigods raised an eyebrow, but began to play the instrument reminding her of a banjo. He was rather good...the melody at least had some strength and gave the urge to dance, at least.
  
  It wasn't the only thing that happened. The centre of the pool-filled hall opened, and after a series of cascades diverted water away, light burned, before changing to adopt a shape looking like an island.
  
  No, it was an island, one which looked like as if it had been scouted from the skies by Zeus himself.
  
  It was...how the hell had these Demigods done that?
  
  "I have decided to call this place...'Pear Island'."
  
  This time, the Demigoddesses' sigh were so well-spread it was easier to be amused by the lamentable attempt to humour them.
  
  "Stop it, Jackson. It doesn't look like a pear!"
  
  "It is a pear-shaped island!" the green-eyed Demigod protested. "Okay, it is one which is a bit munched at the base, but it is a pear!"
  
  There were plenty of looks of consternation, Anne noted...
  
  "Anyway." The boy left his throne-seat, and as he approached the real-than-life image of the island, the island grew too...revealing an impressive system of defences, including an enormous fleet anchored so that a potential attacker has no choice to fight it first before landing on the beach of black sands. "As you can easily see, the Triumvirate located the Golden Fleece before we did, and they considerably reinforced the island. Therefore I affirm there is no choice but to unleash Operation Annihilation Tide!"
  
  Anne Bonny rolled her eyes. Yes, this monster was definitely...eccentric. And it was to not give a far less polite description...
  
  "How are we going to get through that?" a Demigoddess that Anne had at first mistaken for a boy grunted. She must be a child of Ares. "You complained we were going to lack ammunition if we decided to engage a good part of the Triumvirate fleet."
  
  "The ammunition issue isn't as problematic as it was days ago, now that we have the Forge of All Perils to support us. But I have a plan. Let's begin by the obvious. The enemy forces can be divided into four different parts. The first we must engage, clearly, is the fleet. Our enemies have gathered one hundred and eight pirate ships, none of them which participated in the recent attempt to storm our defences here. They are supported by a squadron of six Triumvirate warships, mainly to ensure the slave collars will detonate if they disobey their orders. And leading them is the super-dreadnought Musashi, formerly of the Imperial Japanese Navy."
  
  Anne wasn't going to lie; she shivered when watching the thing. It was an enormous colossus of steel and guns, one the like which looked ready to rule eternally over the seas and oceans.
  
  "The first part of Annihilation Tide, Operation Doom Whale, is going to take care of this little problem," the daughter of Demeter gaped, and her reaction was measured compared most of the hall, with many bellowing 'impossible!' and 'you're crazy!' among other imprecations.
  
  "Silence."
  
  Everyone who had tried to shout or protest loudly was silenced...ah, Charmspeak...of course.
  
  "I assure you everything had been accounted for in my genial plan. I have precisely counted the number of anti-Telekhine measures deployed by the Triumvirate. I calculated the range of the Musashi's guns, determined the positions and the numbers of artillery spotters at the defenders' disposal...and I can tell you this, this fleet is exactly where I want it to be. Operation Doom Whale is going to smash this fleet apart."
  
  Before this astonishing and inhuman confidence, there was nothing to do but bow and wait.
  
  "The second layer of the defences, and the first on Pear Island itself, is the beach and its surroundings." The image shifted to the black sands behind the huge fleet. "As you can clearly see, the enemy has mined it heavily, before installing many pillboxes, bunkers, anti-tank obstacles, and generally as many kill zones as they could imagine. I will add the beach is the only way to land on this island; the rest of Pear is nothing but high cliffs almost impossible to climb, and the monsters above would have no difficulty throwing rocks and killing those who dared such an audacious enterprise."
  
  "So we have to attack through the beach," a grim-faced, dark-haired boy declared while crossing his arms. "Given how exposed the positions are, the enemy certainly placed its less valuable troops there."
  
  "Yes," Perseus Jackson approved. "Hundreds of skeleton warriors, in addition to killer-automatons built by Forge MP-42 and delivered there. They have at the minimum thousands of machine guns and grenade launchers."
  
  "Is that all?" A Legionnaire asked sarcastically...it missed, for the green-eyed Demigod leader took it as an honest question.
  
  "No, of course not. Mere metres after the beach, you will have noticed the island becomes far rockier. The elevation is easily of two hundred metres for one kilometre of depth...and naturally the enemy has dug three fortified trenches into the rocks. The last and most elevated one can boast of a significant number of World War One and Soviet-made rockets, so they can generate a pretty impressive amount of destruction from the heights without bothering to send the infantry down. Here again, the majority of the units are either undead or automatons."
  
  Anne had to admit, just by looking at it, someone intelligent had made the defensive plans. Some of the traps were painfully obvious, but as it had been said before, the beach was the only way to land. The cliffs were way too high, and there were dangerous reefs close to them, in addition to other dangers like the 'sea mines' and other infernal devices.
  
  The daughter of Demeter had pillaged and attacked some well-defended places...but this one was truly an entirely new level of danger.
  
  "The third layer of the defences behind it, as you can see, is a city based on some Greek theme." There was more? "It isn't really defensible, but the streets are tortuous, perfect for hit-and-run attacks, sneaky ambushes...which unfortunately suits the allies of the Triumvirate well."
  
  This time it was a girl Anne recognised as a Huntress who cursed profusely.
  
  "Lycanthropes? They brought Lycanthropes to this island? Are they mad?"
  
  "They supply them with meat," the tense answer proved how serious a matter it was, "and they have another faction to counter them...the 'kits' of the Teumessian Fox."
  
  The images that were revealed to them could have been amusing in other circumstances. They looked like foxes which could imitate human behaviour. But their fangs were looking a bit too large, and the expressions of those monsters...
  
  "They are very intelligent, excellent tricksters...and they love the taste of the human flesh." Yes, she had seen it coming. "So I advise you to not believe anything coming from their maws, no matter how convincing it sounds like."
  
  Interestingly, the green eyes were staring at the group of Huntresses...two of which looking like they had been cursed.
  
  "And the fourth defensive system is this parody of the Parthenon standing at the summit of Pear Island, I suppose?" A grey-eyed Demigoddess wondered out loud.
  
  "Yes. The Golden Fleece is there...and so is its current Guardian. But there's no need to worry about this particular trial for now."
  
  "Why?"
  
  "Because the Guardian isn't going to risk his life as long as there are disposable monsters and assets to throw at us."
  
  "That's...cold."
  
  "No, that's smart. The more we fight, the more exhausted we are, while the one who has stolen the Golden Fleece stays in his lair, fresh and rested."
  
  The daughter of Demeter had to admit it was indeed a sound strategy. And unless someone knew how to fly, the Demigods and Demigoddesses had no choice but to play the game of the monsters. They had to assault each part of the defences in the order their enemies wanted to; otherwise, if by some divine miracle they were given the ability to bypass one part of the defences, all it would be result was their destruction. They would be caught between two different forces of enemies. It would be the classical 'hammer and anvil' strategy...and they would be slaughtered in short order.
  
  "Well...err...that's...err...incredibly bad." One of the Legionnaires admitted frankly. For once, Anne Bonny agreed with him. "But we still have an advantage. I mean, they don't know we're coming for them, right? The Sea of Monsters is vast, and while they may be aware our orders involve grabbing the Golden Fleece, they can't know when we will go after it, right? Right?"
  
  The second 'right' was incredibly alarmed...especially when a lot of members of the Suicide Squad began looking at their leader with incredibly ironic expressions.
  
  "Why are you looking at me like that?" the son of Poseidon grinned maliciously. "I had to proclaim my eternal friendship to the Triumvirate leader in command of Pear Island's defences!"
  
  13 December 2006, the Dark City, 'Pear Island'
  
  Praetor Lucius Vorenus was speechless.
  
  Some part of him couldn't believe what he had just read.
  
  He closed his eyes.
  
  But when he reopened them, the letter was still there, refusing to disappear.
  
  It was there, and it gave him a feeling of...the officer couldn't properly describe it. Like he had just watched thirteen bad omens in close succession, maybe?
  
  Lucius grimaced, before studying the letter's materials, if not the words. This was clearly high-quality paper, with a big 'S.S.' printed at every corner. The ink used was of high quality too, as it smelled of fruit and magic. And the pen its author had chosen had to be an expensive one, for the finesse of the writing was evident.
  
  No, much as Lucius wanted to believe it was a prank, the letter was in all likelihood authentic.
  
  And that meant he had to re-read the letter, which was likely the biggest pile of lies he'd ever witnessed in a short amount of words.
  
  Dear Praetor Lucius Vorenus,
  
  It is with the greatest regret I inform you of the pirate raid I intend to commit against your defences erected to protect the Golden Fleece.
  
  I am your eternal friend, but the needs of the Great Quest surpass the positive emotions I feel for you.
  
  Naturally, no one is to blame for this among your or my forces. The fault falls sorely on Zeus and Hera. If the former had not killed my mother, I would have been an innocent Demigod, eager to live off a pacifist existence. If not for the latter, I'm sure my Lord Father would not have hesitated proposing a polyamorous union to his wife and his favourite lovers.
  
  Nevertheless, despite Hera's odious influence, I, Perseus Jackson, Grand Admiral of the Suicide Squad Pirates, refuse to believe bloodshed and unlimited violence are the only options available to men of our noble lineage.
  
  This is why I'm sending you this letter, Praetor. I propose, in the name of the eternal friendship, that you surrender the Golden Fleece into my custody the moment I reach your fortified command, which I have decided to name 'Pear Island' because I felt like it.
  
  If you agree with my conditions, you will paint the IJNS Musashi in bright orange paint before placing the Golden Fleece on the prow. A minimum of ten thousand rum bottles will have also to be stored aboard this Dreadnought which must have cost you a fortune to salvage.
  
  I know it is unconventional, but the Telekhines party hard, and I have a son of Bacchus to corrupt. He won't become a Don Juan just because I click my fingers and wish it, after all.
  
  This is a party to which all your soldiers, be they covered in fur, metal, or scales, are invited, of course. The Suicide Squad is a bastion of tolerance and friendship, especially when it comes to volunteering things that will enrage the servants of Artemis.
  
  To my regret, as I suppose you are not in the process of grabbing cans of orange paint and other artist tools, I am going to assume you think your loyalty to Mark Antony and Cleopatra is unshakeable and passes above everything, including our eternal friendship.
  
  That's why we will abandon temporarily the happy events and I'm about, respectfully and bluntly, to threaten you.
  
  In twenty four hours, Praetor Lucius Vorenus, I am going to attack Pear Island and take the Golden Fleece. You can blame Zeus and Hera again for forcing me to resort to such extreme and amoral deeds.
  
  You won't stop the Suicide Squad. You won't save your forces. You won't prevent me from seizing the Golden Fleece.
  
  I am sure you believe the sheer quantity of your military assets will give you an insurmountable advantage. After all, you have about one hundred and eight pirate ships to use as cannon-fodder, over twelve thousand undead warriors and battle-automatons, plus the Musashi and a horde of monsters to bathe in blood the black sands against anyone audacious enough to storm your positions.
  
  I assure you, my friend, they are not going to be enough.
  
  Naturally, you might believe that Cleopatra and her fleet will provide a source of reinforcements that even the Suicide Squad can't vanquish.
  
  You may even be right. That's why I'm telling you honestly that if the Spear of the Gods is anywhere in the vicinity of this island in twenty-four hours, I will just attack elsewhere, in a pirate tradition older than the Roman Republic you served once.
  
  The name of the operation I am about to unleash is Annihilation Tide, beginning with its first extraordinary blow, Doom Whale. Once again, I hope you will not give me a reason to use these evil and violent methods. Alas for my tender pacifist heart, I am surrounded by bloodthirsty Demigoddesses, and I don't know how long I can control them.
  
  I won't contact you again before battle is joined.
  
  Sincerely and Pacifistically Yours,
  
  Perseus Jackson
  
  P.S.: I appreciate the nice move of providing Teumessian Kits and Lycanthropes; the surviving Huntresses of my order of battle are suddenly far more motivated in dealing with you permanently than they are glaring at me all day.
  
  Lucius Vorenus gritted his teeth, and then threw the letter into the chimney of the house he had taken over as his quarters when not commanding from his command bunker.
  
  "Reinforce the defences and prepare the fleet," he ordered to his second-in-command, "if the son of Poseidon and his forces dare to come here, we are going to make sure they will die before touching the sands of this island!"
  
  13 December 2006, somewhere in the Forge of All Perils
  
  Drew would lie if she said she was reassured.
  
  This part of the Forge of All Perils was eerie, with a lot of strange lights, and while there was a lot of water around her, it felt sterile and cold.
  
  And yes, that the Telekhine nearby looked like a mad scientist - the shark had the monocle on one eye and the white garb to play the 'role' - was not reassuring at all.
  
  "At last a volunteer!" the smile was scary as hell, no doubt about it. "I was beginning to worry no one recognised my genius!"
  
  Yeah, this Telekhine was definitely a mad scientist, all right.
  
  "According to Perseus Jackson, all your volunteers died." The daughter of Aphrodite remarked, trying to hide her nervousness.
  
  "Science can't progress without some sacrifices!" Or how to in six words dismiss an argument that your experiments were creating more dead people than a full-scale battle. "Project LV-X-S-HY-1111 is the future of warfare! Once it will be perfected, the arsenals of the Olympians will be obsolete! I will have surpassed the God of Forges!"
  
  Suddenly, Drew Tanaka didn't wonder how Perseus had contacted this Telekhine. The two had to be soul-mates or something equivalent. But one had reincarnated in a Demigod body, while the other was a Telekhine.
  
  "And what is this project exactly? According to my leader, it is supposed to increase my physical abilities and my ability to survive a dangerous battlefield, for all its dangers."
  
  "The Restorer didn't tell you?" for once the shark face seemed genuinely surprised.
  
  "I'm sure he wanted to make sure the surprise stayed...a surprise outside these halls," the Charmspeak-user said while trying not to roll her eyes too many times.
  
  "Ah...yes, that is something the Restorer would do." The mad scientist agreed with her. "Basically, Project LV-X-S-HY-1111's chief goal is to transform the heroic volunteer into a living weapon."
  
  Drew's eyes narrowed immediately.
  
  "I'm going to need more...detailed explanations...please."
  
  "By all means," the Telekhine answered cordially. "As the Restorer no doubt informed you, Demigods face dangerous challenges when engaging in moderately risky activities. Your flesh is weak and lack sufficient regeneration abilities. And the opportunity to gain a sort of semi-invulnerability is not granted to anyone. Besides, visiting the Underworld has all the chance to result in your death before you gain the power you seek. It doesn't get any better when it comes to your weapons. You tend to be easily disarmed or have swords that break because a God decreed so. A solution has to be found, and I believe I found it: the Demigod and the metal have to become one, becoming an unstoppable weapon in the process."
  
  "But..." suddenly it was really easy to find out why the 'volunteers' all ended up dead, "the human body, mortal or part-divine, is not prepared to merge with something metallic!"
  
  "Why?" The mad scientist asked with pointed interest. "Many soldiers who end up wounded have excellent prostheses that help them in their day-to-day activities."
  
  Drew wanted to scream that the 'prostheses' in question were replacements, and were in general poor substitutes compared to the original limbs which had been lost.
  
  But shouting at the only being which understood the process that might kill her in mere seconds if something went wrong didn't sound like a smart idea.
  
  "And how is it suppose to-"
  
  Too late, she realised that the Telekhine was pushing some buttons on a control panel.
  
  The floor opened under her feet...and before she could curse, Drew dropped into a large pool which had been under the Telekhine's lab.
  
  Or at least the black-haired Demigoddess had assumed it was a large water pool.
  
  But to her surprise, she realised quickly she could breathe it effortlessly.
  
  Since no daughter of Aphrodite had the ability to breathe underwater - that was for sons and daughters of Poseidon - it stood to reason it wasn't water around her.
  
  This reassured her for a heartbeat.
  
  Then Drew saw it.
  
  The moment her eyes fell upon it, she recoiled in revulsion. It was if something had combined a worm with spikes and various insectoid attributes, before painting it in silver.
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite tried to swim away as discreetly as she could...it didn't work.
  
  In an instant, the silver worm was on her, and before she could do anything, it forced its way into her mouth!
  
  The pain which erupted in her throat a second later was evidence enough the creature intended to truly invade her body.
  
  Drew tried to resist.
  
  It didn't work.
  
  Soon enough, the creature was in her, and the pain became her entire universe.
  
  "I would have given you anaesthetics...but they don't work when my symbiotes are active." The voice of the Telekhine scientist seemed incredibly far away, though it might be because of the water...or the pain that gave her delirious senses. "But have no fear, valiant volunteer: I'm told the pain diminishes after the third symbiote. Or is it the fourth?"
  
  Drew opened her eyes again...and sure enough, there were half a dozen more silver 'symbiotes' swimming in the water around her.
  
  "The moment I get out of here, I will strangle you, Jackson!" The daughter of Aphrodite promised out loud.
  
  It was her last coherent sentence for many minutes, as Drew fell herself falling into an abyss of pain.
  
  13 December 2006, the Docks, Forge of All Perils
  
  "Are you sure it's wise?"
  
  Perseus didn't turn his head.
  
  "You will have to elaborate a bit, my second favourite treacherous lieutenant. What I am supposed to be sure of?"
  
  When he looked at him, the son of Nemesis gave him an expression filled with disappointment.
  
  "Anne Bonny. Are you sure it is wise to give her the command of this ship?"
  
  Ah, that.
  
  "It is not exactly wise." The leader of the Suicide Squad admitted after a few seconds. "That said, I needed a skilled captain, one with the power and the charisma to keep these troublemakers of Legionnaires in line."
  
  "She might betray you."
  
  "Correction, she will certainly try to betray me...as soon as this Quest is over. The oath I forced her to swear is particularly diabolical, if I say so myself."
  
  It was too bad, really. With the gifts she had mastered in her pirate's life and her formidable battle-experience, Anne Bonny could have been one of his lieutenants. As it was, only the oath and the difference of strength between she and him would keep her in line.
  
  "So yes, I am well aware of the risks, Ethan. But I simply can't afford to send someone from the Inevitable Doom on the Second Chance. The only Demigod we have aboard that I think could make the Legionnaires obey is Dakota...and unfortunately, his nautical skills are...poor."
  
  "He would send the Second Chance on the first reef they would encounter." The dark-eyed boy conceded.
  
  It would be a pity, for the Second Chance was a ship of the line which had been reinforced by many metallic plates, given a magi-tech propulsion system, and a couple of triple turrets had been integrated in its structure, justifying the designation of 'bombardment galleon'...though it was technically not a galleon.
  
  Truth to tell, the Second Chance had more in common with the ironclads of the mid-late nineteenth century, a new ship to test several unproven technologies.
  
  "Yes. Naval losses are of course unavoidable when charging into battle, but I would prefer to not lose naval assets in such a ridiculous manner. The Suicide Squad has a reputation to uphold, after all."
  
  "This reputation is one of craziness."
  
  "And to beat impossible odds," the former Tyrant wasn't going to deny the first part; it was completely true. "Go ahead, my second favourite treacherous lieutenant. I feel you haven't shared with me all your insecurities."
  
  "Was it absolutely necessary to separate the part of the treasure we owed to the Goddess of Wisdom, before sending it immediately via a heavily escorted Telekhine convoy?"
  
  "That depends what you imply by 'absolutely necessary'." The green-eyed Demigod stretched, savouring the fact he could walk and go everywhere in the Forge without feeling exhausted after a few minutes. The saunas and pools of the Forge of All Perils had accelerated his recovery appreciably. It was still far from a complete recovery, but as long as he didn't participate in a battle, it was going to be all he needed.
  
  Ethan Nakamura gave him another unimpressed look.
  
  "Theoretically, I could have delayed the transfer. But why should I? I am not going to try to make more money by loaning it and winning even more money as a banking institution. No, not paying the Lady Protector of Athens would have been acting in bad faith. I vastly prefer fulfilling my part of the deal to the letter. You appear as someone reliable when you pay your taxes at the agreed hour. While the King may be above this, the rest of the Olympians aren't."
  
  "That's all?" Suspicion soaked each word. "You did it to look good in the eyes of a Goddess?"
  
  "Is it something so strange to consider?" Perseus asked lightly...before adding innocently a few more words. "And I wanted to ask her a favour."
  
  "A favour? The same kind of favour which led to the Goddess of Snow to give you the X-Suits?"
  
  The son of Poseidon rolled his eyes.
  
  "No, my treacherous lieutenant...the favour wasn't that big...the X-Suits were only part of the favour I negotiated for, by the way, a lot of winter equipment was exchanged." Perseus yawned theatrically. "It was a small favour we are going to need for the next battle. It is a small one, but it could be decisive. Isn't there a proverb about a tiny pebble being enough to change the course of a large river?"
  
  The exasperation of the son of Nemesis was, as always, a delight to listen to.
  
  "You aren't going to fool me. You want all of us to gape the moment you will reveal your latest dramatic and crazy plan."
  
  "Am I getting that predictable?" He was really going to make some efforts to be even less so, if that was the case. Not letting Ethan Namura the time to answer, the leader of the Suicide Squad continued. "In any case, now that your worries have no reason to be, we have several-"
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  The former Tyrant turned...and for the first time in a while, raised both eyebrows.
  
  Drew Tanaka was charging straight towards him.
  
  Her fury had been...kind of expected.
  
  What he had not expected, however, was to watch the daughter of Aphrodite to rush in advanced power armour which reminded him of several science-fiction books he loved reading when he wanted some imaginative technology innovations.
  
  It was a rather ingenious Telekhine creation...it could have benefitted from orange paint, but the dark blue and silver theme was acceptable.
  
  "So that's what the scientist implied by living weapon-"
  
  Drew Tanaka stopped her race...and on her forearms, metal flowed...in the blink of an eye, the armour had added two enormous cannons under her armoured arms. And by the glow coming out of the barrels, the son of Poseidon could hazard the guess those were indeed samples of advanced laser weapons.
  
  Needless to say, Perseus dearly wished they wouldn't have been pointed at his head.
  
  "Give me a reason not to kill you."
  
  Sensing that the answer 'the blessing of Drakonic blood will allow me to shrug off some of the damage' wouldn't be accepted, Perseus sighed.
  
  "Now that you have properly merged with the armament symbiote, I can give you some magical painkillers and medicines which will allow you to operate at peak efficiency...and last enough time for us to reach Pear Island, where the Golden Fleece awaits."
  
  "And you couldn't have said that earlier?"
  
  "No." If Drew hadn't had the determination to endure the pain and the other problems associated with the Telekhine 'living weapon' program, it would have been a disaster waiting to happen. It had been far better for to believe there was no salvation save the Golden Fleece and what the victory represented. "Can you please lower these laser cannons now? That-"
  
  Perseus was quick enough to evade the first shot, but not the second. He had been right, by the way; apparently, the weapons were not laser guns; they were freaking Railguns.
  
  And yes, when one founds its mark, it hurt.
  
  Fortunately, his dive directly into the great lake allowed him to regenerate quasi-instantly.
  
  Naturally, there were dozens of Demigods laughing when he resurfaced...truly, Perseus was ready to swear, he was a misunderstood genius.
  
  "All right, the party is over." Most of the ammunition had been loaded aboard the Inevitable Doom and the Second Chance; time was precious, and he didn't intend to waste the hours he had. "SUICIDE SQUAD! ASSEMBLE! WE MUST SAIL AWAY WITHIN THE HOUR!"
  
  13 December 2006, approaches of the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Luke had thought that 'sail away within the hour' had been a new jest of Jackson.
  
  Fifty-seven minutes later, watching the Forge of All Perils decrease in size below them, the son of Hermes could shake his head at how naive he had been.
  
  Perseus Jackson was many things, but when he really gave an imperious order, most of the time it wasn't a joke...though the commands could be accompanied by pranks to lighten the atmosphere.
  
  This time the humour had been absent. Maybe it was because when the Telekhines were busy loading missiles and torpedoes along with other formidable weapons of mass destruction, security was paramount.
  
  Another reason might be to enforce discipline. None of the original members of the Suicide Squad had missed the rebelliousness of the Legionnaires. Certain, like Elvis Knight, were obeying orders in the spirit they were given, no matter how obvious it looked they disliked being subordinated to Greek Demigods. Alas, those weren't the majority, far from it.
  
  It was like the Huntresses of Artemis all over again. The only good news was that the survivors of the Twelfth Legio had been assigned to the Second Chance...a 'Bombardment Galleon' which, somehow, managed to sail as fast as the Inevitable Doom.
  
  Luke watched the other ship for several seconds, before turning his attention to their surroundings. There were several clouds, but the blue remained largely visible here and there, and for now, there wasn't any sign a storm was brewing anywhere near them. The wind was rather weak, and the waves were low...always by the standards of the Sea of Monsters. And clearly, it wasn't freezing any longer. It had not been cold since the Drakon perished.
  
  The blonde-haired Demigod shook his head and went on to find the crazy Demigod they had accepted as their leader. The search wasn't long; the son of Poseidon was playing the role of helmsman, with his usual orange tricorn hat and a grand black coat of pirate.
  
  "If your intention was to catch any potential pursuers out of position, I think you have succeeded," the thief began...only for Perseus to immediately make a negative sign with his head.
  
  "We caught a few out of position, but the hyper-radar of the Inevitable Doom was able to locate one scout ship a couple of minutes ago. It certainly received orders to shadow our moves and report everything it can perceive from a safe distance."
  
  "That could prove quite problematic...if it can match this impressive cruising speed."
  
  "No, it won't." Perseus smiled and bared his teeth. "You want to know the truth, my heroic lieutenant? If it had only been the Triumvirate I was concerned about, I would have adopted a slow and tedious pace, so as to increase the nervousness of certain ambitious souls."
  
  "And you didn't, because?"
  
  "I did it because of Drew."
  
  Luke chuckled.
  
  "All it takes is a furious Demigoddess threatening to kill you, and your plans are modified in mere minutes? If I knew that before-"
  
  "Castellan, don't be ridiculous. It was always my plan to sail away when I gave the order. And no, it has nothing to do with Drew threatening to kill me. Since apparently the secret has been well-kept, I will reveal it to you here and now: the armour and the weapons our Quest's daughter of Aphrodite can create now are generated by a Telekhine weapon program which uses metal symbiotes to modify the target's body."
  
  "Oh...good?"
  
  "Humans aren't born to transform themselves into metal, Castellan. Despite the healing Lou Ellen is busy providing, it is guaranteed Drew will die within seventy-two hours if we don't win the battle against the defenders of the Golden Fleece."
  
  Luke heavily swallowed...before voicing the complete opposite of what he said a moment ago.
  
  "Not good," the older Demigod said weakly. "Not good at all."
  
  For many minutes, there was only the sound of the waves and the winds...as well as the various noises made by the Demigods aboard the Inevitable Doom, who were all preparing for the upcoming battle in various ways.
  
  Everyone but the Huntresses that was: the servants of Artemis had disappeared into their quarters heartbeats after arriving aboard.
  
  "Why are you willing to take such a risky course?" the son of Hermes asked hesitantly.
  
  "Taking risky courses is the bread and butter of the Suicide Squad, my heroic lieutenant!"
  
  "You know what I mean" Luke rolled his eyes at the new not-so-hilarious repartee. "We have enough missiles and long-range weapons aboard to kill the Triumvirate fleet waiting for us several times. Why are you so eager to risk Drew's life when there is really no need to?"
  
  The green eyes and the rest of the son of Poseidon's face gave him a very ironic expression.
  
  "The Sire of the Drakons may have been wrong upon a lot of things, Luke Castellan. But one where this mysterious and malicious not-benefactor was sadly right was that at the moment, we are too weak. Begin a battle where we aren't prepared and that requires facing a Drakon-level opponent, and it is likely most of the Suicide Squad will die. And honestly, I would say there's ninety percent of chance Drew Tanaka would perish within minutes. Charmspeak is all well and good, but if the monster has a good immunity to it, you're literally defenceless. And no, polishing your nails and reading fashion magazines is not an adequate substitute."
  
  Luke winced...but as much as the remark was sarcastic, it was incredibly accurate. The children of Aphrodite had not taken their training seriously before the first Great Quest, and it was going to take a long time to remedy to this.
  
  "The second reason I do this...we are still going to take casualties, and this option, gambling one life for the entire Suicide Squad, is a sword that cut both ways. Yes, Drew is going to die if we fail...but it also offers an opportunity that would be denied to us if I had declined the Telekhines' help."
  
  Evidently, Jackson had anticipated his arguments, and was not going to change it at that point. Luke didn't know if he needed to be terrified or relieved by it.
  
  Thus the son of Hermes asked his last question.
  
  "What is our destination then, Captain?"
  
  14 December 2006, approaches of Junkyard Island, Sea of Monsters
  
  Annabeth wished she could say the island nearby was a miniature paradise, one where ever Demigod and Demigoddess wished to spend his or her holidays upon.
  
  It wasn't the case. The large beach of white sands had seen so many ship wrecks arrive piecemeal onto it that it was genuinely difficult to count how many hulls had sunk in the vicinity of it. It hadn't to be a small number, though. The impressive pile of anchors, broken masts, ruined barrels, and old cannons was all that she needed to confirm that.
  
  "There's no one alive," the daughter of Athena lowered her binoculars, "I can't see anyone, and there's nothing to block my vision, anyway."
  
  "Junkyard Island is a place most pirates of the Sea of Monsters have learned to avoid, if they value their roguish existences."
  
  "Why? There's a cursed treasure hidden somewhere below the sands?"
  
  "No." The son of Poseidon grinned, and Annabeth shivered. "Have you heard of the tragedy of Captain Ahab the Stubborn?"
  
  "Err...yes?" She bit her lip, before continuing. "The story as it was told at New Byzantium...Captain Ahab was a son of Triton, I think, and he was given a Great Quest by the Gods. He was to hunt the Great White Whale, a monster he called Moby Dick. And he failed, no matter how many times he tried. The whale was too cunning, and according to the old stories whispered around the bonfires, the monster was capable of sinking every ship Ahab and his allies ever managed to build or buy to pursue this impossible Quest. In the end, of all the Questers, only Ahab was left...and he erred for decades, completely mad, before a last confrontation with the Great White Whale."
  
  Perseus clapped his hands...in a very theatrical and exaggerated fashion.
  
  "Wait a minute..." Annabeth couldn't believe it! "That's your plan? You want us to hunt Moby Dick, in the hope it gives us a lot of favours where the Gods are concerned?"
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad rolled his eyes and gave her a look pity.
  
  "And you were giving such promising vibes at the beginning...daughter of Her Owlishness...ah, well, life is filled with disappointments!"
  
  "This is not funny, Jackson!"
  
  The son of Poseidon sighed.
  
  "First above all, I am not doing it to obtain some favour. Several Olympians want me dead; whether or not I kill a particular monster is not going to change anything."
  
  That was...fair, the daughter of Athena supposed.
  
  "But now, we must start by correcting a few problems your story has. You're absolutely correct Captain Ahab was a son of Triton sent to neutralise Moby Dick, along with a full crew of Demigods. Where you are absolutely in error is that his target was not an enormous white whale."
  
  There was a headache coming, and it was all Perseus' fault...
  
  "Now you're not making any sense. This is a Great White Whale! While many people have died fighting it, enough survived to confirm Moby Dick is real!"
  
  "Have I said the contrary, your Owlishness? I just said it is not an enormous white whale...because it isn't."
  
  "You're not-"
  
  "It is a titanic-sized sea automaton built in the shape of a great white whale."
  
  Annabeth was left with her mouth wide open, utterly speechless.
  
  "What?"
  
  "Originally, it was a project sponsored by my Lord Father, as Rhode was kind enough to explain to me," the green eyes were not mischievous anymore; instead they were staring pensively at the horizon. "There were many fleets the Olympians felt they stood no chance against in conventional fighting, and so they decided to build something that their enemies would have no answer for. Atlantis funded the project, and the God of Forges was in charge of the industrial execution. But something went awry: by trying to make the automaton as intelligent as they could, they made it too smart. And as the not-whale learned, it began to hate the beings of flesh. The moment it was officially released into the sea, it went berserk, and none of the program fail-safes managed to stop it from going into a rampage."
  
  Perseus crossed his arms.
  
  "Ahab was not sent on a Great Quest in a fit of pique; he was given a mission so that the Moby Dick project did not fall into enemy hands."
  
  "And he failed." Annabeth was forced to point out.
  
  "Technically, he succeeded. Whether Olympian Demigods or other parties, no one managed to inflict any significant damage to this whale-automaton...or to subdue it. And as the Great Quest was officially put on hold after Ahab's death, the so-called 'Great White Whale' found its way to the Sea of Monsters...making sure the problem solved itself."
  
  And the son of Poseidon had just called his operation 'Doom Whale'...oh, Gods.
  
  "You don't intend to hunt down Moby Dick," the blonde Demigoddess whispered, not knowing if she had to be deathly afraid or in awe by the sheer audacity. "You want it to pursue us, so that as we approach the island of the Golden Fleece, it will attack and destroy the Triumvirate fleet."
  
  As the last words left her lips, there was an explosion of water about two or three nautical miles away...and the 'Great White Whale' surfaced.
  
  It was indeed a titanic thing.
  
  It was largely bigger than the Inevitable Doom and the Second Chance put together.
  
  And now that she had been given the truth, Annabeth could indeed acknowledge that shining under the sun, the 'skin' of Moby Dick was some sort of divinely-forged white metal.
  
  It was a gigantic whale-automaton.
  
  An 'eye' bigger than she was tall revealed itself...it had noticed them.
  
  It was a machine sensor, and yet it reeked of malevolence.
  
  "Using Moby Dick to do our dirty work, as funny as it sounds on paper, would not work eternally Annabeth. Some Questers tried that to get rid of their enemies, and it didn't work. The whale-automaton certain destroys the targets you choose, but its wrath is only a match for its viciousness. Give it enough time, and it will sink your ship too."
  
  "That..." what was the point, then? "This is bad. I suppose most of our weapons are useless against this creation of the Forge God?"
  
  "Completely useless," Perseus nodded cheerfully as Moby Dick created a new geyser and turned its head towards the Inevitable Doom.
  
  "And your intention is not for this whale-automaton to kill us like it killed Ahab and hundreds of Questers?"
  
  "It isn't. Moby Dick, after all, has a single weakness."
  
  "A weakness?" Annabeth replied with scepticism tainting her voice. The thing was not going to be dealt with by swords and harpoons, spears and axes, or anything ever forged at New Byzantium!
  
  "Yes, a weakness."
  
  And without warning, Perseus turned around and summoned a wave using his Hydrokinesis. Drew Tanaka had only the time to yelp before it threw her overboard. In mere seconds, the water attacked had carried her hundreds of metres away and far closer the killer whale-automaton.
  
  "ARE YOU MAD? YOU HAVE-"
  
  "Moby Dick will never obey beings of flesh again. But it can, and will, obey someone who has accepted to change her nature from flesh to metal..."
  
  Annabeth was about to shout again, to scream at the son of Poseidon to not be ridiculous...but it was then she noticed it.
  
  Moby Dick had stopped moving.
  
  She was going to kill Perseus Jackson.
  
  Assuredly, she was likely going to have to convince Hades to send her back from the Underworld because...because there was an enormous white whale and-
  
  "STOP!" The daughter of Aphrodite screamed.
  
  It took her a couple of seconds, at the very least, to realise that the enormous monster had obeyed her command.
  
  It took her a few more seconds to realise that she had no difficulty breathing underwater. Nor did she need special glasses, a spell, or anything to survey her surroundings and the white whale.
  
  Drew could see perfectly, like she had been on the bridge of the Inevitable Doom.
  
  So that was what the Telekhines had meant by 'living weapon', uh.
  
  But that could wait.
  
  First, there was a monster bigger than their ship to deal with.
  
  Drew swam slowly towards the head...and she did, she realised her mistake. This wasn't a true whale. It was not any living creature.
  
  It was a monster, but one which had built with metal and some incredibly advanced technology.
  
  The white metal could likely fool non-Demigods, especially with the Mist involved, but once you were as close as she was, the truth was incredibly obvious.
  
  It was certainly a creation of Hephaestus. No one had the skills and the knowledge to build something like that. No child of his was that talented and-
  
  The whale began to move again, and this time, Drew used her Charmspeak deliberately to keep the mechanical whale in line.
  
  "DON'T MOVE."
  
  The artificial creation struggled, but clearly it had no choice but to obey.
  
  The question was why Jackson had felt it was necessary to throw her there; the bastard could use Charmspeak, there never was any doubt about that.
  
  It was only when she saw the silver-blue metallic layer the daughter of Aphrodite could feel she understood. Of course. Having the symbiotes inside of her had turned her into something that was more metal than human...and the mechanical whale recognised that.
  
  The whale would not have obeyed the Charmspeak of any Demigod or Demigoddess, no matter how powerful he or she was. But it obeyed the power of metal and Charmspeak.
  
  Still, what did their leader hope she would do? The Charmspeak couldn't be repeated over and over, it wasn't practical-
  
  Operation Doom Whale.
  
  Perseus Jackson wanted her to take control of the 'white whale'.
  
  But she couldn't do it with the power of her voice, she had to...she had to take control completely.
  
  It would be impossible if it was a 'normal' sea monster...but this one was built by the divine, and with god-wrought metals.
  
  "Give me access to your controls."
  
  There was a ripple, as if the monster was trying to resist...but after three seconds, a large hole opened into the flanks of the incredibly huge automaton.
  
  Drew Tanaka was propelled inside and for twenty seconds, it was like being inside an immense toboggan.
  
  Sign of how displeased the automaton felt about giving her access, the pool which was there to stop her fall was filled with molten metal.
  
  The pain was incredible, and that was when most of her body was already tortured by the symbiotes.
  
  But Drew endured, as her body immediately covered her with a layer of silvery metal.
  
  She stood. She felt so weak...and yet so powerful.
  
  There was a seat in the centre of the alcove, and while there were many screens showing her what the whale could perceive around her, there were no controls, no levers...nothing.
  
  Something, excuse her the bad pun, was definitely fishy.
  
  "You will give me command. Tell me how to use your full capabilities."
  
  There was a rumble of...approval? At least it felt that way.
  
  And suddenly, hundreds of compartments, opened, and the 'seat' was surrounded by countless screens, buttons and so many advanced commands one would take hundreds of hours just to learn the basics.
  
  Yes, the metallic monster was definitely not cooperative at all.
  
  Drew began to elongate her nails, and soon they were so long they looked like comical claws. But for her purposes, it was excellent.
  
  Because when the whale tried to bury her under hundreds of complicated systems, Drew stabbed violently the closest consoles.
  
  Instantly, clarity filled her mind. As she had guessed, about three-fourths of what was in front of her was just there to destabilise and confuse there.
  
  But now she could see what was distraction and what wasn't.
  
  The metallic whale tried to resist, but it was only mere seconds before Drew located the 'brain', so to speak, and once she had, the Charmspeak could do what it did best...again.
  
  "I am your mistress now. Give me full control."
  
  The monster fought her mentally...and she crushed it ferociously.
  
  At last, the environment around her changed, becoming a proper throne that doubled as command seat and from which each of her moves could determine the correct course of the gigantic automaton she had forced to submit to her will.
  
  Drew felt a lot of pain...and it didn't matter.
  
  Was it what the son of Poseidon felt when his crazy plans succeeded, no matter the personal cost he had to pay?
  
  "Open communications with the Inevitable Doom, Unit MD-X. Highly-secure frequency only."
  
  Perseus had been just entering his quarters when the pricey communication rang.
  
  As such, Lou Ellen was able to watch as a short-lived expression of relief appeared on the son of Poseidon's face.
  
  The daughter of Hecate was a bit relieved, to be honest; for all the rumours of infallibility, it was good to know Perseus Jackson could doubt like a normal Demigod.
  
  This thought rapidly disappeared, as a holographic screen materialised, and Drew Tanaka appeared.
  
  The Goddess of Love's daughter had changed a lot.
  
  The futurist armour had disappeared; now her body looked like it had been covered in metallic silvery paint leaving very little to imagination.
  
  Of course, that wasn't the case. The metal was both covering and part of her body now. The body-paint was a true silver armour, and Lou Ellen had seen her transform her limbs into lethal weapons before they reached Moby Dick.
  
  "You were able to take full control of Moby Dick."
  
  "No thanks to you," the daughter of Aphrodite peevishly replied. Strangely, her mouth was moving, but what was read on the lips was not what they were hearing via the holo-recorder. "Would it have killed you to tell me your plan?"
  
  "My plan is always to let my subordinates react to the unexpected." Perseus offered a fake expression of innocence that many pious men would have fallen for. "That way, they tend to be quick on their feet and acquire survival skills."
  
  Drew Tanaka didn't seem to enjoy that. Then again, Lou Ellen didn't like it either; and she hadn't been the one thrown overboard for a confrontation with something that could have sunk their mega-yacht with a single tail strike.
  
  "I will make you pay for that, Jackson."
  
  Many beings in this world or the next would have shown a significant amount of fear, for the black-haired Demigoddess didn't sound like she was joking at all.
  
  Perseus Jackson cackled, and he did it loudly.
  
  "I await eagerly your legendary vengeance, oh Mistress of Moby Dick." The green eyes shone, and were accompanied by a large grin. "Oh, and by the way, congratulations."
  
  "For not dying?"
  
  "For successfully completing a Great Quest that was first offered to Captain Ahab, and which led to the demise of at least two hundred Demigods, counting Greek and Roman adventurers. I will prepare the paperwork. You should have the million or so of Drachmas transferred to your account within a week or so."
  
  "One...million?"
  
  "About that, yes," the astonishment seemed to amuse Perseus Jackson greatly...because it was the kind of things he was doing for fun and giggles. Obviously. "It's a pity this Great Quest's rewards were not changed to correctly take into account the effects of inflation, but still, that's a very nice reward, and unlike the rest of the loot, it is all yours."
  
  Suddenly, the blonde sorceress wondered how many incomplete Great Quests had Perseus decided to tackle on when they departed New Byzantium...because between the Drakon Fimbulvetr and Moby Dick, it looked like the answer was 'all of them'.
  
  "Don't think it will save you from my vengeance."
  
  "I wouldn't dream about it, dear." The infernal grin had not disappeared...in fact, it may have become wider.
  
  "Fine. What is the plan?"
  
  "The plan is simplicity itself. The Inevitable Doom is going to eliminate the few Triumvirate scout ships which are rushing in this direction in a desperate bid to discover what my intentions are. That way, they will be in the dark. Once our missiles have sent them to feed the monsters of this sea, you will be free to engage the fleet of Pear Island. Moby Dick's white cuirass is completely impenetrable to any modern weapon our opponents could possibly muster...so feel free to go wild."
  
  This was...this was indeed simple.
  
  No, correction, this was indeed brutally simple.
  
  They had all seen Moby Dick from the outside.
  
  It was something that Gods and Goddesses should engage, not mere Demigods and common monsters.
  
  It was a small island in its own right; it had largely the mass and the speed to sink one of the US super-carriers.
  
  "You are hereby given command of the attack Mecha-Whale Moby Dick, Drew Tanaka. Make sure all systems are ready...and then unleash the wrath of this fully operational sea automaton upon our enemies."
  
  The next grin was decidedly a very malicious thing.
  
  "Let's have a short prayer for the salvation of their souls. They really are going to need it."
  
  14 December 2006, Command Bunker of the Second Defence Line, 'Pear Island'
  
  "It's impressive how humans are able to walk in circles until they have dug a trench without any tool but their feet."
  
  Lucius Vorenus stopped walking, and glared at the insolent monster he was forced to tolerate.
  
  "You are insolent."
  
  "And you, you are afraid," the bipedal fox calling himself 'Master Goupil' bared his fangs...and those were long and sharp. "Why are you so surprised? The enemy was kind enough to warn you it was coming. Surely you didn't think the Sea God's spawn was going to let your scouts shadow his flagship until he engaged the pirates' vanguard."
  
  "I am not afraid!"
  
  The kit of the Teumessian Fox laughed...and this sound irritated deeply Lucius Vorenus.
  
  "If you are not afraid, why the anger?"
  
  "Because I don't understand why the super-yacht and the pseudo-ironclad the Demigods have used to sail away from the Forge are taking such a large detour." The Praetor admitted. "The Spear of the Gods is some nine hours away from the island; they can't possibly locate it with precision. If the survivors of the Drakon fight believe they have the firepower to win against these defences, they should have attacked immediately, not wasted several hours. And if they don't have any intention to confront the fortifications built to protect the Golden Fleece, then they should have killed our scouts the moment they left the Forge, not let them shadow their ships for many hours."
  
  The foxy monster shrugged.
  
  "Why bother applying logic when there is possibly none? They say the spawn of the Earthshaker is mad. The more we learn about him, the more I'm inclined to agree. I just hope we will get him alive. My brothers and sisters are eager to see if his flesh is as succulent as the one of other Demigods."
  
  Lucius couldn't hide the disgust he felt for this...this monster. Fortunately, the moment approached where the Triumvirate wouldn't need Goupil and his band of carnivorous foxes. And on that blessed day...many debts would be settled.
  
  "Praetor! Status change on the long-range detection array! We detect two ships...signatures are consistent with the profile of the super-yacht and its escort!"
  
  "Ha!" Goupil exclaimed. "It seems that the period of boredom is about to come to an end."
  
  "Indeed." Lucius watched the red-lit dots for several seconds, until the possibility of a feint or decoys was so remote it wasn't worth considering. "They are coming. All the forces, be they naval or land-based, are to be put at maximal alert. Empty the depots, prepare all the guns to fire. Prepare to unleash Plan Alesia."
  
  "That might not be the best idea..." Goupil interjected. "They are coming straight for our throats."
  
  Lucius Vorenus frowned. But as he looked at the course the two enemy ships had decided to go for...
  
  "That...doesn't make any sense. By the pits of Hell, what are they thinking? If they do not change course soon, our fleet will cross their 'T'. We will likely be able to sink them because they can use a third of their hidden armament...unless they have a significant range advantage with their guns, it simply doesn't make any sense."
  
  "And yet they are doing it," the bipedal fox pointed out. "I smell a trap."
  
  "Yes." Lucius watched the battlefield, trying to discern something that he could have missed. "But where could a trap be triggered? There are only two ships sailing in that direction, they are now fully in our detection array. The radars would have told us if there was an aerial force nearby ready to descend from the skies and launch an airborne assault. As for the underwater threats, well, we have-"
  
  "The buoys detect something! Praetor, all the underwater sensors are reporting something huge is-"
  
  Many screens went dark and a couple of seconds later, explosions began to rock out.
  
  "The underwater minefields are under attack! Hundreds are disappearing as we speak!"
  
  Lucius stormed out of his bunker...and froze.
  
  For suddenly, the fleet he had been entrusted with was not alone anymore.
  
  It was facing an enormous mass of white, which was getting bigger and bigger as it surfaced.
  
  It was not a submarine.
  
  As its form became clearer, what it was became easily identifiable.
  
  It was a gigantic white whale.
  
  And it was rising, towering over the warships, which all were suddenly struck by a feeling of terror.
  
  "FIRE! FIRE AT WILL! SEND IT TO HELL!"
  
  Missiles roared. Cannons opened fire by the hundreds.
  
  For a brief moment, the entire sea around the island was covered in smoke...but a few seconds, the wind blew away, to reveal a perfectly unharmed whale.
  
  There was an angry sound coming from the white behemoth...and then it let itself collide with the water.
  
  The Musashi, flagship of the Golden Fleece's fleet, did not have time to evade.
  
  The impact was bloodily terrifying, and the former Japanese Dreadnought...it did not resist.
  
  In less time it took to say it, one of the greatest warships to have been built was broken in half, and then proceeded to rapidly sink.
  
  It was a bloody disaster.
  
  It was just the beginning.
  
  The impact of the whale crashing into the Dreadnought had created a massive wave, and four other warships instantly went down with the Musashi.
  
  Sea mines began to detonate by the dozens. In fact, all the anti-Telekhine weapons were detonating at once...and it was useless. The white whale was completely immune to all their weapons, be they aboard their warships or hidden on the hidden deep platforms.
  
  The sea was aflame.
  
  Gunpowder magazines were exploding right and left.
  
  Lucius Vorenus gaped...before suddenly understanding what his enemy had warned him of.
  
  "Annihilation Tide...Doom Whale...that bastard..."
  
  "The fleet must withdraw at once," Goupil told him seriously. "I don't know how the Sea God's spawn convinced Moby Dick to obey his commands, but the pirates don't have a single chance against it. Better they evacuate and remain as a fleet-in-being in the enemy's back than-"
  
  "NO!" Lucius Vorenus raged. He was not going to fail his Caesar, not here, not again! "They must advance and destroy the Demigods' ships! If we kill them, whatever means of control they have over the white whale will deactivate and we will able to mop them up!"
  
  "Yeah, about that..." Goupil bared his fangs. "It seems many pirate captains are rather disagreeing with your interpretation of the military situation!"
  
  The Praetor of the Triumvirate gritted his teeth as he was forced to acknowledge the Teumessian Kit had a point. Many pirates had seen the destruction of the Musashi, and were now trying to desert.
  
  "Let's return to the bunker...I will remind them who holds the leash...the explosive collars are not there to be pretty."
  
  14 December 2006, Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, approaches of 'Pear Island'
  
  Dakota was no longer stranger to one-sided slaughters.
  
  Some part of him would always regret it.
  
  The other part was very relieved that so far, the butchery was entirely on the other side.
  
  Still, it was...awful.
  
  Countless warships were in flames or busy sinking in a scene which felt like an apocalypse.
  
  Galleons had been torn apart, their masts broken before they fell, taking in their fall hundreds of sailors to death, before crushing hundreds more. Galleys and Ironclads looked like they had been disintegrated by the heaviest battering ram in existence...and considering what Moby Dick had done to them, the description was horribly accurate.
  
  As the Inevitable Doom had slowed down considerably, one could hardly miss the colossal numbers of corpses floating, dispersed across a fleet worth of debris.
  
  It was the end of the Triumvirate naval supremacy...and it was worse than everything he'd imagined.
  
  The air was filled with the screams of the dying. There were cannons and other weapons still firing, but not that many...and in the distance, once more the engine of destruction called Moby Dick resurfaced again before ramming several ships of the line.
  
  The cannonballs and the harpoons bounced off the white armour, and the whale-shaped automaton continued its vengeful campaign of slaughter.
  
  There were many tail strikes, which aside from causing severe damage, forced all ships in the vicinity to receive phenomenal quantities of water at the worst moment possible.
  
  There were instances where the thing that was commanded by the daughter of Aphrodite simply passed under the keel and broke it with an unblockable assault, guaranteeing the ship was doomed no matter what its crew tried to save it.
  
  Weapons thundered.
  
  Guns and countless artifices were unleashed. The Triumvirate leadership left in charge of the island defence was clearly pushing for all attempts that could make a difference.
  
  Dakota knew it wasn't going to solve anything.
  
  The same was true about the slave collars.
  
  At some point, you had to acknowledge some battles were lost.
  
  The pirates who had been assembled here had not been cowards.
  
  They had been ready for a fight.
  
  But they couldn't do anything against Moby Dick, and a gun pointed against their neck was only going to spread despair and sink their morale.
  
  "Operation Doom Whale," the son of Bacchus sighed before opening his flask and drinking a good dose of wine. He knew he shouldn't, alcohol made him more susceptible to the kind of things Jackson wanted him to do, but the bloodbath...Dakota really needed that drink.
  
  "To be fair," Ethan Nakamura said grimly, "he warned them."
  
  "Yes," Dakota swallowed more wine before replying. "Yes, he did. And I know I shouldn't feel pity. If we had tried to make it a fair fight, these pirates and their Triumvirate masters wouldn't have hesitated to kill us. It's just..."
  
  It was just that there was so much destruction. There were so many dead.
  
  It was victory, yes, but the magnitude of the massacre...
  
  "It will be soon over," the son of Nemesis commented emotionlessly, "there are only a dozen warships left in action by now, and some look like they are going to try their chance by throwing their ship on the beach, and damn the consequences."
  
  "Isn't the beach heavily mined?"
  
  "Like I said," Ethan said darkly, "damn the consequences."
  
  Dakota grimaced again, and finished emptying his flask. There were times when you really wished you were drunk...not that he was going to say it aloud, Jackson might teleport behind him and 'encourage' him to drown into a new barrel of Eleutherian wine.
  
  "Poor bastards," the Roman Demigod reacted after one more Cruiser disappeared forever after a 'smashing crash' of Moby Dick. "They didn't have a chance."
  
  "No." He didn't need the confirmation, but that was good to hear. "In fact, I suspect Jackson only warned the commander of the Triumvirate garrison because if our daughter of Aphrodite was unable to tame Moby Dick, it would give us a splendid distraction to attack elsewhere. And if his plan proceeded like he had imagined...there was just nothing they could do to save their fleet."
  
  One more galleon went down as Moby Dick rammed it, and dozens of men fell into the Sea of Monsters. Mere seconds later, more ammunition stockpiles blew up. There were bright explosions, and for a few seconds, it was like new volcanoes had been born in the Zone Mortalis.
  
  This time, the pirate fleet - or more likely, the remnants of it - had enough and several warships, likely no more than seven or eight, began to flee as fast as their sails or other methods of propulsion allowed.
  
  Whoever was in command there must have realised that slave collars would do no good, for the galleons and other warships seemed to be able to get away in a coordinated fashion.
  
  The rumble of the artillery diminished, until it went completely silent.
  
  The other sources of explosions decreased too.
  
  "By the Pit, that was extremely brutal." Dakota coughed. "Well, at least we now have the answer why our mad leader was not reluctant at all to risk Drew Tanaka's life."
  
  Whether you admired cold-hearted calculations or not, you couldn't deny that the risk was justified by the potential gains.
  
  In a worst-case scenario, the daughter of Aphrodite lost her life and Moby Dick was impossible to use again...but then the Triumvirate was likely going to have massive difficulties compensating for these atrocious losses.
  
  "Yes," Ethan continued to watch grimly the flames and the rest of the carnage. "All the defences...they ended up to be traps for the ones who placed them. The warships were trapped into a kill-zone with no choice but to fight Moby Dick, and the underwater mines among many things were corralling them before the white whale dealt with them. Operation Annihilation Tide...the name was not an empty boast."
  
  "Truer words have never been spoken..." the son of Bacchus murmured before clearing his throat. "Of course, that leaves the fortified island to storm. Unless the God who created Moby Dick was as insane as Jackson, I doubt a whale automaton was built with a land-mode to wreck armies like it did smashed apart this Triumvirate fleet..."
  
  Drew felt incredibly...weak.
  
  The moment she had left Moby Dick, it was like all energy had left her.
  
  At least most of her body had returned to a normal colour...save part of her right leg. It was still metallic silver.
  
  And as she arrived on the deck of the Inevitable Doom, the daughter of Aphrodite could verify her powerless wasn't just in her mind. Not when she was suddenly wracked by pain. Not when she coughed blood.
  
  Then a wave struck her, and the suffering grew just a bit more tolerable.
  
  "Hydrokinesis as a basic healing ability?"
  
  "My dear sorceress lieutenant, most of our bodies are made of water." A voice she knew very well arrived to her ears.
  
  Her eyes were unable to really see everything happening around her.
  
  Suddenly, everything seemed hazy and indistinct.
  
  "We're beginning to lose her. Her body is-"
  
  "Call the son of Apollo here. Now!"
  
  "We must remove the symbiotes. Immediately!"
  
  "This would do nothing but kill her faster. Now obey my instructions!"
  
  Drew tried to struggle against the waves of pain, but it was a battle she would never be able to pain.
  
  She fell, and darkness claimed her.
  
  14 December 2006, Command Bunker of the Second Defence Line, 'Pear Island'
  
  Lucius Vorenus could only glare in hatred as the super-yacht and its insolent Demigods stopped just outside of his artillery's extreme range, soon imitated by the modified ironclad following on its heels.
  
  As for the monstrous mechanical whale, it had disappeared under the waves again, though the Praetor didn't believe for a second it had left.
  
  Not after the near-unimaginable amount of destruction that had been unleashed against the Triumvirate forces and their 'allies'.
  
  "Two hours...it took them two hours to annihilate an entire fleet..."
  
  Nine ships had fled the battlefield in the end, but that didn't change anything. For all intents and purpose, the Triumvirate fleet ordered to defend the Golden Fleece was gone.
  
  "Praetor," one of his Legionnaires saluted. "All our communications are jammed now."
  
  Lucius grimaced.
  
  "The enemy wishes to keep Neo Isis unaware of what just happened."
  
  Whether it was because the son of Poseidon wanted to make sure reinforcements didn't arrive in time or because he wanted to ambush the Spear of the Gods...the Triumvirate Praetor didn't know.
  
  And after what he just saw, Lucius was almost afraid to guess.
  
  A certain bipedal fox began to cough on his right.
  
  "It might be wise to open negotiations. I'm sure Perseus Jackson can be quite reasonable..."
  
  Lucius Vorenus drew his gladius from its scabbard.
  
  "What happened to all those 'Sea God's spawn' insults and the previous arrogance, fox?"
  
  "This was before my brothers and I watched him destroying your armada! And he didn't even sink one ship himself! We were told we were there as insurance! Your fleet was supposed to destroy them, or at least exhaust them! As it is, it is doubtful you injured anyone from their crews!"
  
  "Your pay will be doubled."
  
  "There are moments when you could multiply my pay by ten times, and it still wouldn't be enough," the Teumessian monster shook his vulpine head, "no, I have seen enough. I have no wish to fight that! The Primordial Night only knows what new sort of madness-"
  
  "Deserters...will not live...another day."
  
  There was no warning. Far on the red sea, there were new explosions and black flames.
  
  Lucius Vorenus grimaced. Unless he was badly off-mark, the Praetor could acknowledge all the pirate crews who had survived the wrath of the Great White 'Whale' had just perished.
  
  And yes, the Roman officer was sure everyone on the island had heard the implicit threat, from Goupil nearby to the half-drowned pirates staggering towards the first trenches.
  
  "You were saying?" There was no triumphalism in his voice.
  
  Yes, it was going to limit desertions and cowardice. But Lucius had no doubt that without his commanders to protect him...he would be executed in equally ruthless manner if he showed an insufficient amount of fighting determination.
  
  "I will stay and fight." The bipedal fox bared his teeth. "So will my brothers. But I want to make it high and clear that's because the Guardian scares me more than the son of Poseidon does."
  
  The Praetor remained silent.
  
  His eyes were focused upon the mosaic of destruction and death that was presented in front of the beach. It hadn't been supposed to happen like this. There were rumours - most of them likely true - the Gods and the Goddesses of Olympus were not to intervene to help these crazy Demigods.
  
  Yet for the first time Lucius Vorenus wondered if the inaction of the deities that had sired these half-bloods was really a hindrance.
  
  "The jamming of the communications will alert the Spear of the Gods better than any message we could have sent. Neo Isis will come. And the main fleet is less than a day away."
  
  "This would be all very reassuring," Goupil snarked, "if an entire fleet had not been sunk in mere hours."
  
  Lucius glared at his insolent 'subordinate'.
  
  "The sea defences are no more, but our land defences are intact and operational. And unless the 'doom whale' suddenly grows legs, the Suicide Squad will have to storm the beach like every attacker since the dawn of ages had to."
  
  And the beach itself was a murderous kill-zone if there ever was one.
  
  The Demigod commanding this force was crazy, resourceful, and dangerous, but he had fewer than one hundred soldiers, and most of them were as mortal as he was.
  
  Blasted by landmines, shredded by artillery shells, or burned alive by the cursed fire traps waiting for them, the result would be all the same: the Demigods would die in droves, mixing their half-divine blood to the black sands.
  
  "I know the tactical difficulties a landing under enemy fire represents, thank you Praetor," Goupil replied with a sneer. "I just can't help to think that Perseus Jackson tailored exactly his strategy to annihilate your fleet like it was a minor irritation. If he had a plan for that, he must have one to deal with us before reinforcements can arrive."
  
  "He is a mere Demigod."
  
  The Guardian's voice...caused Lucius and everyone close to him to shiver.
  
  "All the artillery on the heights must be ready to fire the moment I give the orders. Our enemy has proven more ingenious and tenacious than we expected...but it ends now."
  
  The anger returned, an inferno of rage spreading in his chest and veins. He had many friends aboard the Tsunami, and all of them were now in the Halls of Pluto waiting to be judged.
  
  "If he dares landing against these defences, the career of Perseus Jackson ends here."
  
  14 December 2006, Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  "Drew will live."
  
  "Good."
  
  "But not for long," it would have taken someone really stupid to not notice Michael Yew's anger, and Perseus had never pretended to be so oblivious. "What were you even thinking-"
  
  "My dear healer," the former Tyrant kept a playful tone to his voice, "would you have preferred fighting the Dreadnought Musashi with your guitar and a sword?"
  
  "What? No!"
  
  "Would you have enjoyed boarding five galleons in close succession with no back-up save an explosive-addicted penguin?"
  
  "Kaboom! Ha! Ha!"
  
  "No, but-"
  
  "I heard many protests and angry comments once the true scope of Operation Doom Whale was revealed," the son of Poseidon continued to speak calmly, hiding his disappointment beneath a clam facade. "Unfortunately, I also have completely missed the minutes when valuable alternative plans were proposed."
  
  It said quite something that the best 'plan' which had arrived to his ears was Rico's.
  
  And yes, in case you wondered, the invasion strategy consisted of bombarding the island until there was no enemy alive.
  
  It was honest. It was brutal.
  
  Unfortunately, given the identity of the 'Guardian' waiting for them in the shadows of this Parthenon's dark copy, Perseus wasn't sure they had enough ammunition to achieve it.
  
  "This isn't fair, Jackson."
  
  "Olympus doesn't care about fairness, son of Apollo. Do you want to be the one to explain to Hera's ex-husband that you were unable to recover the Golden Fleece?"
  
  The guitar-holder had the good sense not to answer that very rhetorical question.
  
  The green-eyed Demigod let silence reign for a few heartbeats before grinning.
  
  "And by the way, if Drew's salvation was not tied to the recovery of the Golden Fleece, this would be the moment I would stop the assault and go attack another island."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  "No need to scream, dear Antigone..." the ex-Goddess was mostly mortal, but there was nothing wrong about the power of her lungs.
  
  "That's Hera for you...and what do you mean abandoning the assault? You have just destroyed a fleet of the Triumvirate!"
  
  "Well, technically, it is Moby Dick we must congratulate..." the son of Poseidon chuckled, "and I thought my reasoning would be evident. As long as the Golden Fleece is here, the Triumvirate will be forced to commit a significant naval force to defend it. In all modesty, I could easily transform Pear Island into an anchor that would strangle their military power."
  
  "But you aren't going to do it." The daughter of Hecate was back...and as always, she confirmed what the old and the wise knew: that it was best to fight an army of men rather than the fury of a scorned sorceress.
  
  "I won't." The leader of the Suicide Squad confirmed. "First, we need to save Drew's life. I don't fancy sailing on the Sea of Monsters with an angry Moby Dick in pursuit. Secondly, I made a pact with a certain Goddess. I will play my part; what the Goddess will do is her business. And last but not least...I promised a certain Praetor that I was going to annihilate his forces if he didn't surrender promptly."
  
  Luke Castellan coughed.
  
  "Legionnaires don't have a big tradition of surrendering. Not even to fellow Romans."
  
  "Yes, my heroic lieutenant, strange as it might sound to your ears, I was aware of that."
  
  "In that case," Dakota McDonald emptied another flask, "I suppose there's no problem to insist the land defences of this...this Pear Island...the fortifications and the artillery redoubts are all intact."
  
  "Not at all," Perseus nodded, "you could have added we have lost the effect of surprise that was ours when Moby Dick broke in half the Musashi."
  
  The son of Bacchus...blinked.
  
  "You are too calm." He said in an accusatory tone. "Please, please, let it be a reasonable plan for once..."
  
  "Please?" Annabeth Chase scoffed. "This is the son of Poseidon who thought going through a hell was the perfect method to make a triumphal entrance into the Sea of Monsters! The plan is sure as hell not going to be reasonable..."
  
  "I agree with that," Miranda Gardiner crossed her arms. "What is it going to be this time? Are you going to drop a mountain-sized stalagmite upon the heights the enemy fortified?"
  
  "No," Perseus cheerfully replied. "Not that it's a bad idea, but I didn't think to grab a stalagmite from the Forge of all Perils. However..."
  
  The son of Poseidon turned his head slightly to look at Bianca di Angelo, whose presence here could only mean the magical net had been opened and the second phase of the plan could begin.
  
  "However, I have something far better than a stalagmite to break the defences of the Triumvirate."
  
  Exerting his powers this time was not complicated at all. They were far away enough from the beach for the legacy given by Poseidon to be strong, and Moby Dick's carnage had made sure death was omnipresent in the water.
  
  "RISE."
  
  It was a pulse of magic reigning over the liquid element and the abyss.
  
  It was a command.
  
  It was a prayer.
  
  It was tyranny, and it was madness.
  
  "What the hell-"
  
  For a heartbeat, there were only splashes and magic.
  
  But it was only for a second.
  
  Then tens of thousands of scaly heads emerged, ready to obey his orders.
  
  "BEHOLD!" The commanding officer of the Great Quest cackled. "BEHOLD MY SECOND INVINCIBLE WEAPON! THE UNDEAD IGUANA ARMY!"
  
  It had been a pain to recover all the intact corpses across the Forge of All Perils and imbue them with Necromantic magic.
  
  It had been even more of a pain to hide them from magical monitoring and transport them via a colossal net trailing behind the Inevitable Doom.
  
  There was a new colossal splash, and a snake-like construct, one which had been assembled from several Drakonic bones, hissed and thrashed, with the joints and several spikes coursing with the remnants of frost magic.
  
  "And this is my third invincible weapon. The Drakonic undead construct!"
  
  "That...that was your plan from the very beginning?" what a pleasure to have the penguins frozen in comical poses...
  
  Perseus smiled.
  
  "It doesn't matter how much ammunition the enemy has if I have an army that can soak up the damage and keep coming. It doesn't matter how good the defensive positions, for every soldier and monster that falls will be instantly resurrected to fight by our side!"
  
  Already, the effects could be felt all across the approaches of Pear Island.
  
  In his previous life, when he had been Kairos Theodosian, necromancy had been something he had dabbled into. But his instances of animating constructs and corpses were not common.
  
  Triumphant, however...the greatest Dread Empress of Praes had plenty of times forced entire armies of undead to fight under her banner, despite the corpses being reduced to the state of skeletons.
  
  Here and now? With tens of thousands of corpses which had just drowned and that the fishes had barely the time to bite once or twice?
  
  The result was never in doubt.
  
  In thirty seconds, the thousands of undead iguanas were joined by an army of undead pirates, corsairs, and other former slaves of the Triumvirate.
  
  Perseus didn't have a proper count, but this combined army had easily to be over thirty thousand.
  
  "Operation Doom Whale is officially over. Operation Zombie can begin."
  
  The former Tyrant allowed himself another megalomaniacal laughter before giving the only order which truly mattered.
  
  "ATTACK AND NO QUARTER!"
  
  Author's note: This was the first part of the Battle for the Golden Fleece. Part two will be next chapter. I freely admit I haven't found a good name for it yet...and for Operation Zombie. I don't think I need to explain further the plan for that one, don't I?
  
  The Triumvirate thought they had a good idea what Perseus Jackson could unleash.
  
  By the time this day is over, they will understand how wrong they were...
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen (by order of death):
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber: now transformed into a golden penguin
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and swore herself to Khione
  
  Reinforcements:
  
  Bombardment Galleon Second Chance
  
  Anne Bonny - pirate and daughter of Demeter, formally given command of the Second Chance
  
  42 Legionnaires of New Constantinople, commanded by Centurion Elvis Knight
  
  More links for this story:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  You Only Live Twice
  Chapter 21
  
  You Only Live Twice
  
  With the benefit of hindsight, it is clear that Perseus informed the enemy commander of Operation Doom Whale because the Triumvirate couldn't do anything to counter it.
  
  Not with the forces that had been stationed on 'Pear Island' to prevent us from claiming the Golden Fleece.
  
  And even if those forces had been sufficient by themselves, the monsters and their allies did not have a madman anywhere near their leadership positions.
  
  Since it required another crazy person to anticipate the moves of our insane leader, the operation was largely decided the moment the Dreadnought Musashi sank.
  
  All the risks taken by the Suicide Squad happened well before the first shot was fired. Once everything proceeded to Jackson's plan, the defeat of the Triumvirate in this phase was near-certain.
  
  Clearly, the same thing couldn't be said of Operation Zombie. First of all, it couldn't escape any attentive observer that unlike Doom Whale, the enemy wasn't given the operation name or any clue. Hell, most of the Suicide Squad wasn't in the know either. The surprise effect had to be total.
  
  It wasn't difficult to guess why, though. One of the main reasons was undoubtedly the psychological blow Perseus hammered the enemy with. The mortal defenders of the Golden Fleece were in the process of watching a real nightmare with Moby Dick obliterating their fleet. At this point, one of the few things they could latch to in order to keep their calm was that no matter what happened on sea, their land fortifications were intact.
  
  Battleships, ironclads, and galleons may have been sunk, but the trenches, the minefields, and the kill-zones waited, indomitable and unvanquished. With the artillery on dominant positions that ensured a murderous kill-ratio for any attacker, the strategists of the other side had no doubt made the same calculations a child of Athena could make: it would take tens of thousands of Demigods to overwhelm this heavily fortified defensive system, and it couldn't be done without suffering thousands of casualties in the process.
  
  Since the Suicide Squad began the day with fewer than one hundred members total, the outcome shouldn't have been in doubt.
  
  But when the undead iguana army was revealed...all of the Triumvirate calculations - and mine too - were thrown out of the window.
  
  Attrition doesn't mean anything if you have indeed an army of thousands of beings, and that army is entirely expendable.
  
  Or in Jackson's own words, if you're a Necromancer, the world is your blasphemous undead oyster. And yes, before you ask, our crazy son of Poseidon seemed to have stolen the quote from a guy named Sorcerous.
  
  Still, I can't say he was wrong.
  
  The Triumvirate was not prepared for a horde of zombies. They hadn't been given a clue of what had really happened in the Forge of All Perils, and even if they had, neither Perseus Jackson nor Bianca di Angelo had really used Necromancy on such a scale before this battle.
  
  Surprise was thus total. Panic rapidly spread. It didn't help them that given the circumstances, the Guardian couldn't intervene. Yes, sometimes the Ancient Laws end up making some lives miserable besides Demigods' and Demigoddesses'.
  
  The monsters, skeletons, pirates, automatons and other warriors that were waiting between the black beach and the artillery redoubts of the dominant heights were given no time to prepare or to discuss a strategy.
  
  The undead army was unleashed, and if it wasn't stopped, the reptiles raised from a watery grave would eliminate all resistance before trying to storm this evil copy of my mother's Parthenon.
  
  Many of our elders at camp say that we must live our lives to the fullest, because we only have one life.
  
  With this battle, the Suicide Squad proved it wrong. Your body, if not your soul, could definitely live twice...
  
  Extract from the Chapter 4 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2 by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  14 December 2006, Command Bunker of the Second Defence Line, 'Pear Island'
  
  For approximately ten seconds, Praetor Lucius Vorenus was paralysed.
  
  Half of his brain screamed to him that it was utterly impossible. That Demigods, no matter how crazy or powerful, could not raise an army from the grave and throw it against his defences.
  
  The other half whispered that it was completely possible...and that with this undead army, everything he commanded was about to perish.
  
  By the time Lucius was able to control his astonishment and the freezing it had spread in his veins, the first 'beach trench' had been overran.
  
  This was bad, for while the first lines had always supposed to be conceded to the enemy, they were not supposed to fall so fast.
  
  And there was worse to come.
  
  There was a magical pulse of midnight colour engulfing the trench, and when it ended, the pirates who had just perished began to rise once more.
  
  One glance could tell you their allegiance had changed.
  
  And second after second, the Triumvirate Praetor saw more pirates join the reptilian army. Not from the trench, this time.
  
  No, in this instance, the thousands of dead men were emerging from the bay where their fleet had just been annihilated.
  
  "We just didn't offer him the possibility of destroying our fleet in a single battle..." Lucius Vorenus was not squeamish, but suddenly, he felt a powerful urge to vomit. The veteran officer hadn't been proud of some things he had done, but...it was horrible. "We just gave that little bastard thousands of troops for his own offensive."
  
  Some part of him, the more ruthless part, agreed the idea was a strategic masterstroke. The other part was disgusted and horrified.
  
  One thing the two parts of his mind could agree upon, however: everything that had been prepared to defend the island...it was not worth the ink or the paper that had been used to write them.
  
  Letting the enemy advance and bleed upon each layer of the defence was no longer an option.
  
  "TELL THE ARTILLERY TO FIRE AT ONCE! FIRE! FIRE AT WILL! KILL THEM BEFORE THEY CAN ADVANCE ANY FURTHER!"
  
  "Easy to say," the Teumessian Kit replied next to him, "far more difficult to do! This isn't a mindless horde, look at how the corpses are clearing the minefields!"
  
  Lucius could only grit his teeth, because his monster subordinate was right.
  
  After overwhelming the first trench by virtue of numbers, the...the army of the non-living had decided to continue its advance...but they weren't moving like a horde for this general assault. Instead they were advancing in four fast columns. That way, only the reptile or the pirate leading the progression was blowing up on a landmine, and the others were following into the demined path.
  
  It was something few soldiers, no matter the era, would have willingly obeyed.
  
  But these 'soldiers' were dead, and as such they didn't care about their losses. As the artillery at last began to pour shells upon the animated bodies of the non-living, Lucius could see the minefields were cleared incredibly quickly. Or at least the four 'lanes' in it were rapidly cleaned up.
  
  A second trench on the black sands was reached, and this time, the pirates and all the beings able to think for themselves abandoned it without a fight. The automatons and the skeletons didn't...for all the good it did.
  
  "The artillery isn't doing them enough damage! The shockwaves have killed many on impact, but shrapnel on the bodies isn't doing them anything!"
  
  "By the bowels of-"
  
  The worst part was that it was logical. His ammunition stores were made to kill Demigods and other mortals having some divine legacy flowing in their blood. But most of it was totally unsuitable to fight the dead. It was going to cripple them, tear limbs apart, bleed them...but what do the dead care for-
  
  "MISSILES! MISSILES INCOMING!"
  
  "Seal the Bunker!"
  
  The island itself seemed to shake as explosions arrived nearby.
  
  "That," Lucius coughed as smoke began to arrive to his nose, "wasn't the corpses' doing..."
  
  "No...that was the two warships of the enemy!"
  
  "They outrange us that badly?"
  
  How much had he underestimated this infernal son of Poseidon?
  
  Then again, how could he have known? One of the ships had just appeared after they left the volcanic Forge, and the mega-yacht had never shown missile-launching capabilities.
  
  "Retaliate," Lucius Vorenus ordered, knowing deep in his guts that was exactly what the enemy wanted. "A third of the guns are to try to disable these ships! We can't endure a bombardment like this one for long!"
  
  As if the enemy agreed with him, more explosions shook the underground fortifications, and the screams of the dying began to fill the air.
  
  "But the tides of dead are still coming! Two-thirds of the guns won't be enough!"
  
  "It will have to be!" the Praetor barked. "Now do your duty...and kill me these bastards! I don't care if it's the first or second time they have lost their lives, kill them!"
  
  14 December 2006, Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  Perseus lowered his spyglass while grinning, as over three-quarters of the beach had now been conquered by his undead iguana army.
  
  Since in addition to this the bone construct made from Drakonic remains had managed to provide a ramp so that his 'zombies' reached the heights in a far easier manner, everything was so far proceeding according to the plan.
  
  "You know, my treacherous lieutenant, I was pleasantly surprised that in several pieces of literature, there is something very similar to what existed in my former life. You can't thwart stage one indeed..."
  
  Ethan Nakamura grunted.
  
  "It is possible to thwart the first stage of a plan, Jackson," the son of Nemesis retorted. "It's just that your plans are so unpredictable they don't have any idea what sort of madness you're going to unleash next. Seriously, an entire undead army...what's next? You will send a tsunami to drown them?"
  
  "Nothing so impressive I'm afraid," the former Tyrant shook his head, "let me remind you that we need the Golden Fleece, whatever my plans to obtain it are. I don't think collapsing this island into the sea and losing the healing artefact would amuse Olympus."
  
  "That's...that's a good point."
  
  In the distance, hundreds of guns fired, an unending rumble of destruction and despair. The Triumvirate gunners were really firing everything they had to stop the iguanas and the pirates raised against them. At first they had tried their luck against the Inevitable Doom and the Second Chance, but they had gotten wiser after a couple of volleys.
  
  "And to properly answer your question...now that Operation Zombie has given us a beachhead, cleaned up several lanes into the minefields, and is making sure the enemy is very busy dealing with our undead auxiliaries...it is time for the Suicide Squad to earn its pay. You will take command of the force that will land, Ethan. I can't give you Bianca and Lou Ellen, I need them here, but you can have the thirty-two Legionnaires and most of the Inevitable Doom's crew."
  
  "WHAT?" For all her mortality, a certain ex-Goddess certainly had powerful lungs. "Jackson! You're not serious!"
  
  "I assure you, Antigone," the green-eyed Demigod said calmly, not bothering turning his head, "I am deadly serious."
  
  "But...the iguanas...all those...those zombies..."
  
  "We have already lost more than four thousand of them fighting their way across the beach." The evidence was all around the battlefield...and it was very literal, this time. "The artillery of the enemy is busy killing hundreds more. Operation Zombie has achieved its goal, which was to inflict considerable damage on the second defensive line, enough damage that the Suicide Squad could finish it. It was never supposed to be enough by itself. I would have loved to achieve that kind of success, really, but unless the enemy commander was completely incompetent, it was always an unlikely proposition."
  
  He could feel the hot glare of the former Queen of the Gods trying to pierce his neck...fortunately, 'Antigone' didn't have that kind of power anymore.
  
  "Suggestions, oh glorious and mad leader?"
  
  "More respect for my extraordinary person?" the son of Poseidon tried. Alas, the answer was rude and not worth commenting upon. "Okay. My suggestion is that the Suicide Assault Force advance divided into two sub-groups. That will leave you more empty lanes across the minefields if you have to change the axis on the left. My advice is to keep the Romans into a large armoured fist, with Elvis Knight in charge. Anne Bonny is needed aboard the Second Chance anyway. In the mean time, you take overall command with the second 'fist', and place Clarisse in the vanguard. She has received something that will be very useful to fight your way for the defences. As for the penguins...they should be busy stocking up on grenades and other explosives to clear the trenches. I would say there will be tactical benefits of other people imitating them..."
  
  "Duly noted." The son of Nemesis curtly replied.
  
  Perseus Jackson grinned...and then turned around to see the Suicide Squad mustering on his mega-yacht's deck.
  
  "Despite the laziness of our dear Antigone here-"
  
  "HEY!" The reaction was eminently predictable. "DON'T THINK-"
  
  "It is time for war," the leader of the Great Quest continued, ignoring her loud outburst. "Operation Zombie destroyed a significant part of the second defensive line, but we need to deploy a significant number of Legionnaires on the heights and silence their artillery. That's your priority goal."
  
  "And the city behind it?" Luke asked. "I doubt the monsters hiding within are going to let us get away with it."
  
  "That why the Huntresses are going to take up sniper positions on the heights as fast possible," Perseus turned to look at the last loyal servants of Artemis. "As the core of the opposition is including Lycanthropes and Teumessian Kits, I suppose there won't be any reluctance to accomplish that mission?"
  
  For once, there was none...there was in fact some vindictiveness and bloodthirst in their eyes. After several days spent leashing the hatred they felt for him and many other 'males' in their hearts, the Huntresses really needed a target. The 'allies' of the Triumvirate had just been volunteered to be it.
  
  If they weren't his enemies, Perseus would almost pity them...almost.
  
  "Clarisse and Asterius will be in the vanguard of the assault against this third defensive line, for reasons that will become obvious once they do." The former Tyrant spoke as loud as he could to make sure the crew of the Second Chance and its unruly Legionnaires heard him perfectly. "Once again, I suggest everyone who will fight there to stock up some long-range weapons. Kits of the Teumessian Fox are notoriously tricky to deal with at close-quarters...and I don't have any antidote to the curse of Lycanthropy."
  
  Naturally, many people turned towards Clarisse after that, wondering why he was so eager to risk her and not the rest of the Suicide Squad.
  
  Well, they could continue wondering for a short while...
  
  "I note," Ethan returned, armed to the teeth and with penguins carrying grenade launchers in tow, "that you didn't mention the fourth defensive line."
  
  "Yes, I didn't."
  
  Perseus summoned a jug of fruit juice, drank it completely while listening to the sounds of furious fighting and artillery bombardment in the distance.
  
  "I didn't," the leader of the Suicide Squad grinned maliciously, "because it is not your job to deal with that. This will be Drew's job, once she will have recovered, along with some assistance specially required for the task ahead."
  
  "But," Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, predictably intervened, "this temple is a grave insult against-"
  
  "No."
  
  Using Charmspeak for something like that could feel like a waste, but Perseus knew better.
  
  It was not time to take any chances.
  
  "Let me be clear," the son of the Master of Atlantis proclaimed while boosting the power of his voice, "when the enemies defending the third line of defences will have been vanquished, your role is over. Under no circumstances are you to advance further than the last houses of the currently monster-crowded settlement. You don't climb the stairs leading higher on the slopes of the mountain; you don't rush towards the Dark Parthenon, you don't pursue the monsters and the Legionnaires if they happen to retreat in that direction."
  
  "But...why?"
  
  The daughter of Athena seemed so...miserable that Perseus had not even the heart to make a joke about it.
  
  "Because the Guardian of the Golden Fleece will kill you. It is his temple, and between the entrance and the altar where the Golden Fleece undoubtedly await...not even an Olympian can save you."
  
  The grey eyes hesitated...and then acceptance arrived in them. Good. It would be a shame to lose the strategist-oriented Demigoddess in an easily avoided trap.
  
  "I hope everyone understands perfectly this order," repetitions were particularly boring, but this time it was really worth insisting. "Don't go near that temple. The Guardian is something beyond your strength, and you will ruin a well-honed plan I have to limit our casualties if you do. Oh, and if you disobey and happen to survive the consequences of your stupidity, I swear I will crucify you or order something an extremely unpleasant demise just to reward your stupidity. Any questions? No? Then go to war! FOR OPERATION ZOMBIE AND THE SUICIDE SQUAD!"
  
  Should one day Catherine Foundling arrive into this world, he would have to really thank her for giving her so many brilliant ideas...
  
  14 December 2006, the Trenches of the Second Defence Line, 'Pear Island'
  
  While they ran across the devastated beach, Elvis Knight had murmured several praises for the Gods who had believed Perseus Jackson was the Demigod who had the greatest chances to accomplish this Quest.
  
  The succession of trenches, the kill-zones, and all the devilish surprises that had awaited them before the 'zombie troops' stormed them...they could have stopped an entire Legion. No, let's be honest, they would have stopped an entire Legion, if they had managed to bring one for a D-Day style of operation.
  
  And given the size of the fleet Jackson had destroyed with the help of Moby Dick - controlled of course by a daughter of Aphrodite of all people - it wasn't at all certain a Legion could have fought its way across the enemy warships.
  
  In fact, there were high chances they would have perished in the attempt.
  
  "Ha! KABOOM!"
  
  KABOOM!
  
  "Tell this heretic of a penguin to stop!"
  
  "Eustace, shut up!"
  
  In the last days, the loudmouth Legionnaire of course had to make himself an annoyance again.
  
  "I'm just saying-"
  
  "The penguins are cleaning the trenches with their grenade launchers...plus the explosive zombies."
  
  BOOM!
  
  KABOOM!
  
  Sometimes, Elvis mused as they hid in a trench filled with corpses of iguanas and other mutilated monsters, you could only wonder what was going to be left of this island once the battle was over.
  
  The beach had been a photo for 'devastation incarnate', but the heights were a lunar wasteland, reminiscent of World War One's battlefields.
  
  "We press on," Elvis Knight told Arthur, who had just stabbed a skeletal abomination - this one not created by the Suicide Squad, thanks the Gods.
  
  "Even with the explosive zombies? I wonder how they managed to stuff so much ammunition inside to generate those explosions..."
  
  "I don't think we really want to know, Decurion."
  
  KABOOM!
  
  "Into the next trench!"
  
  They attacked, and given how uneven the terrain was, doing it in heavy armour was absolutely not easy.
  
  But they didn't have the choice. The enemy artillery was diminished, yes, but not fully suppressed, for all the missiles and other lethal ammunition the warships were sending at them.
  
  Meaning they had to do it the hard way and-
  
  "My arm! My arm!"
  
  "Chuck is wounded!"
  
  "Protect him! Medic!"
  
  It would have been a lot better to have a son of Apollo or Asclepius, but Jackson had been unwilling to risk the former and the latter. As such they had to do with what they had...
  
  "Into the next trench! Fast!"
  
  "But Chuck is-"
  
  "I know! But you have to move him! Otherwise we will all be wounded, and it won't help anyone! EUSTACE! What do you think you're doing? Dispersed formation, I told you!"
  
  Thankfully, they managed to transport the wounded Legionnaire into the trench, right as the howitzers and the rocket-launchers of the enemy thundered again.
  
  "Chuck needs to be evacuated," their battle-medic told Elvis. "Or he's going to lose his arm."
  
  "Well, that's easy...we can't."
  
  The attack across the beach had happened as the guns of the Triumvirate were busy with the zombies. Now sending more men - and it would have to be a minimum of four - back to the ship was tantamount to suicide as long as the enemy wasn't destroyed.
  
  "Yes! We must attack! We must claim the Golden Fleece, for the glory of Rome!"
  
  It didn't reassure Elvis that there were many grunts and sounds of approval.
  
  "Shut up, Eustace. We have our orders, and so far, those have led us to victory."
  
  The more time passed, the more the Knight scion wondered if the last Bragg heir was not a symptom of the problems which had plagued the entire First Cohort of the Twelfth Legion.
  
  "Victory for the Greeks, you mean," someone muttered behind him.
  
  The Centurion thought it best to pretend his ears had not heard that.
  
  "Two men stay with Chuck, providing him as much medical help as we can. The rest, with me! We have four more positions to clear, and we aren't going to be seen as slow by the Minotaur!"
  
  14 December 2006, Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  Lou Ellen had rarely seen the daughter of Hades show any sign of fatigue, but there was no denying she showed a few now.
  
  Of course, if she had tried to do the same thing, the daughter of Hecate knew she would not look so healthy. Assuming she managed to do it in the first place...at the beginning of the undead tide, there must have been more than thirty thousand corpses thrown against the Triumvirate defenders.
  
  "Nine out of ten of the 'zombies' you wanted me to unleash have been eliminated," Bianca di Angelo reported.
  
  "It is completely fine," Perseus shrugged. "They played their role anyway." The red button was pushed one more time, and a missile took flight, rushing to deliver more devastation upon the elevated fortifications of 'Peach Island'.
  
  Lou Ellen cleared her throat.
  
  "I suppose this role consisted of storming the entire second line of defences and inflicting as much damage as physically possible upon all the assets and soldiers of the Triumvirate."
  
  "Yes," the son of Poseidon confirmed.
  
  Well, the blonde sorceress was going to acknowledge it was a very successful plan.
  
  The island...everything from the black sands of its beach to the steep hills above them had been on the receiving end of tons upon tons of explosives.
  
  There were corpses and bones everywhere. There were broken and melted weapons, from machine guns to authentic spears.
  
  It was a tapestry of ruin, with depots burning and more explosions being triggered as crippled zombies continued here and there to throw themselves on unexploded landmines.
  
  Naturally, the biggest explosions were in the last bunkers and bastions of the second defensive line.
  
  "Congratulations, I suppose. The Triumvirate leadership has evacuated the entire line of defence to take refuge into the settlement behind it."
  
  "Yes," the Lightning Thief commented with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, perhaps due to exhaustion "and I will note that while their losses on the beach were pretty much total, they managed to save quite a few battalions from the fighting on the heights, while stopping and annihilating the undead iguanas and other forces I raised from the grave."
  
  The son of Poseidon didn't seem bothered by it.
  
  "This was indeed part of my plan."
  
  "Really?" If Bianca di Angelo tried to be more sarcastic, she was going to be able to shred armours by the power of her voice alone...
  
  "Really," Perseus repeated smugly, "the chances of killing the defenders to the last when they had other lines of defences were always slim. If they had the time, and the Legionnaires and their hired mercenaries had it, they would take the chance to withdraw to a more defensible line, one where they would no longer have to deal with our 'special suicide zombie squad'. This is really intelligent, when you think about it. The second phase has lost the effect of surprise, and in many ways they saved the elite troops that were stationed here: Lycanthropes, Teumessian Kits, and of course Triumvirate Legionnaires."
  
  "You could try to be not so...appreciative of their efforts."
  
  "Why?" The tone was so cheerful, you would never think there was a battle raging out there...
  
  "Because...oh, never mind." Bianca shook her head in exasperation. "I suppose we should have it seen coming. Four lines of defences. That means four stages for your little manipulative tricks..."
  
  "Little?" For the first time, Perseus was visibly offended. "I will have you know your Dreadful Majesty, there was nothing little about Moby Dick and this undead zombie army!"
  
  "That you ordered others to do for you..."
  
  "Yes, of course! It's called delegating..."
  
  "Are you sure it's not laziness?"
  
  Lou Ellen cleared her throat...again.
  
  It was better to stop this bickering before it got out of control.
  
  "Since it is only a question of minutes before Ethan reports the second defence line of the enemy is gone...would you mind telling us what you call the third part of Annihilation Tide?"
  
  "But of course! This is an operation of deep cunning and subtlety!"
  
  The delighted expression was so horribly gleeful that Lou Ellen knew for sure it was a monumental lie when the last word was uttered.
  
  "I don't believe you."
  
  A theatrical sigh followed.
  
  "I was just testing your vigilance...and joking. Fine. It is going to be an exercise of primal brutality. There is going to be unlimited violence and rivers of blood. In a century to come, the descendants' survivors will shiver hiding in caves at the memory of it."
  
  Two hands were joined in a false pious pose that could fool no one with a modicum of intelligence.
  
  "Let me explain to you the concept of Operation Berserker."
  
  14 December 2006, Novus Lykaion, Third Line of Defence of the Triumvirate forces
  
  Praetor Lucius Vorenus didn't remember hating Perseus Jackson before today.
  
  That was no longer the case.
  
  "FELINE! HE IS SENDING US BOMBS REEKING OF PESTIFEROUS FELINE ABOMINATIONS! LET'S KILL HIM, PACK!"
  
  "You will do nothing of the sort!" the Triumvirate commander barked.
  
  Immediately, a lot of wolfish eyes turned towards him. And while the Lycanthropes were still mostly keeping a human appearance, this was not exactly a pleasant sensation. Not with only fifty Legionnaires by his side when there were many, many more times that number around his command post.
  
  Lycaon advanced.
  
  The Roman Legionnaires of his force did their best to not show their revulsion.
  
  The first Lycanthrope was looking like a horrid barbarian adapted to the modern times. His hirsute black mane that you couldn't really call 'hair' was so long it almost reached his backside, and an unkempt black beard swallowed most of his face. Black sunglasses covered his lupine irises.
  
  His nails were black and long...though knowing what Lycaon was, you could call them claws, for this was what they were.
  
  The rest of his attire was, as always with him, weird. Black T-Shirt with some inscription about 'metalica' and some lightning theme? It was difficult to be sure, given the dirt. But there was no problem asserting Lycaon was wearing only black clothes, with many parts looking in tatters, as repeated partial transformations had taken their tolls upon the poor garments.
  
  Like all werewolves, he went bare-footed. As the first of the Lycanthropes, he had many, many talismans and other protective baubles around his neck and his forearms.
  
  And of course, as he got closer to him, Lucius could smell him...and verify that yes, baths were optional when you were a Lycanthrope. True, there wasn't a river on this island, and baths had been counter-indicated with all the traps in the bay, but the 'Pack' and its leader must have avoided showers for months...
  
  "My Pack has been insulted." The old monster growled when he stopped so close Lucius would have no trouble decapitating him with a simple strike of his gladius. "I am going to leave this city and teach him no one does that without paying the price!"
  
  "This is what Perseus Jackson wants!" Goupil hissed some distance away, and instantly Lucius Vorenus knew everything was lost, for the hostility between the two monstrous factions was worsening with every hour. "He wants you to get out of this city and fight his forces! Are you too stupid to realise this?"
  
  "He is running short of missiles," Lycaon spat on the ground. "And his dead reptiles are no longer there to bleed for him. This time, it will be his Legionnaires who will have to face us! And they aren't immune to our claws and fangs...who knows there may be a few of them that might be worthy additions to the Pack!"
  
  Dozens of werewolves howled, and this was a frightening song, one of eagerness and animals behaving like humans.
  
  "They are hiding in your ex-fortifications, but not for long! My Pack and I are going to wade in their blood! Don't stand in my way, Vorenus!"
  
  The Triumvirate Praetor wanted nothing better than to stab Lycaon and restore order. But the Teumessian foxes here were busy finding hide-outs and places far away from the confrontation, and his Legionnaires were too few to deal with so many Lycanthropes.
  
  "You better kill them," Lucius replied, not giving the beast the pleasure to step aside.
  
  "Oh, we will! My Pack! Are your fangs and claws ready?"
  
  "WE ARE!"
  
  And the lupine monsters all howled, like the beasts they were beside these black-haired and black-coloured clothes.
  
  "THEN ANSWER THE CALL OF THE WILD! MY PACK! TRANSFORM!"
  
  Immediately the followers of Lycaon began to discard their clothes. Male or female, they removed shirts and pants, and whatever underwear, assuming they had any.
  
  They were almost beautiful, the women, with their black lipstick and their muscular lunar skin, while the male seemed like Olympic athletes who had decided to go for the barbarian looks.
  
  What followed was not beautiful at all.
  
  Human skin tore apart, and muscles exploded out of all human proportion, soon covering themselves in black fur.
  
  Claw-like fingers and long black nails became the claws they were always to be.
  
  Enormous fangs revealed themselves, and filled evil maws that had impressed many Roman spectators when they were introduced during the circus games.
  
  Before you could count to ten, the mass of humans had ceased to exist. What was now before them was the Pack, a barbaric army of Lycanthropes.
  
  They were enormous. Standing in a bipedal manner like they did right now, they were so tall that no human could hope to tower over them. They were fur and violence, the cursed followers Lycaon and his troops had converted over their uncountable rampages.
  
  For once someone transformed once into a Lycanthrope, he or she was cursed for eternity to be part of this infernal Pack.
  
  This stood true beyond death: many of these lycanthropes, including their leader, had already been killed several times, and yet they always returned from the Pits like all monsters did.
  
  "KILL!"
  
  "KILL!"
  
  "KILL!"
  
  "FOR ALL THE INSULTS! FOR VENGEANCE! FOR BLOOD! KILL!"
  
  The wolfish howls drowned everything, and the Lycanthropes charged outside of the city.
  
  It was like a flood, a disease flowing out of the third line of defence.
  
  It was a horde of fangs and claws.
  
  By comparison, the dead mini-Drakons and the pirates who had been sent to storm their bunkers had been extremely well-organised.
  
  Lucius turned his eyes on the slopes below, where the enemy had no doubt noticed what was coming for them...and the Praetor blinked.
  
  "What...what are they doing? They are only two...two members of the Suicide Squad ready to repel Lycaon's Pack?"
  
  One of them needed not to be presented. The Minotaur couldn't be mistaken for anyone else, with his enormous bull's head and his extremely massive double axe.
  
  The second looked to be a female warrior with some glyphs that indicated they were facing a child of Ares.
  
  As far as individual valour went, this was not so bad...but individual skill would not save them against more than a thousand Lycanthropes.
  
  It was insanity.
  
  But the Praetor had thought the same before.
  
  So what did the enemy know that he didn't?
  
  Clarisse La Rue was not afraid.
  
  The plan was going to work, or it was going to fail.
  
  If it worked, she would win. If it was a disaster, there wouldn't be time to be afraid.
  
  The daughter of Ares would have preferred to have kept her armour on, though.
  
  Without it, she felt naked, no matter how many clothes she had...and she hadn't that many.
  
  Jackson had been very clear: it worked far better with bare skin.
  
  And so Clarisse plunged her hands into a blood-filled bucket, the result of her previous kills.
  
  When she removed them from it, predictably, they were crimson red.
  
  In a hurry, she whispered the words of communion, tracing the glyphs everywhere she could on her chest and on her arms.
  
  The howling increased and they came.
  
  The werewolves.
  
  By all the blades of this world, they really reeked.
  
  And they were ugly too.
  
  There was a lethal beauty when it came to the wolves, but these monsters didn't share it.
  
  "I beseech your strength, indomitable spirit," Clarisse spoke.
  
  And then she donned the bear cloak.
  
  Instantly, the power of the animal assaulted her.
  
  But Clarisse had been warned. It was a ride, not a fight.
  
  And so she didn't fight it.
  
  It was a ride.
  
  The bear spirit was a companion.
  
  "We are like the berserkers of old, friend," the Demigoddess whispered as a tide of wolfish monsters descended from the town to kill them. In a couple of heartbeats, the bear spirit became aware of them and its anger was roused. "Will you help me?"
  
  There was a lot of reluctance...but in the end, approval came.
  
  Now came the hard part.
  
  Clarisse was now going to be shrouded in the berserker aura.
  
  Thanks to the enchantments added to the bear cloak, this meant she had twelve minutes to kill the werewolves.
  
  If she failed, the berserker aura would begin to influence her and change her into a bear.
  
  This was a challenge.
  
  But as she grabbed her axe and launched herself at the tide of monsters, Clarisse knew this was what she desired and had awaited for so many days.
  
  They had done it again.
  
  For a few seconds, Lycaon's army appeared to be an irresistible force, ready to descend upon their two enemies, who would be torn apart by a sea of fangs.
  
  A second later, it was like a pyre of white-red flames was burning, but it rapidly turned into an immense bear.
  
  It was not a true bear for sure.
  
  It was like...a ghost. No, it was both a burning ghost and a cloak of red energy.
  
  But it was enormous.
  
  It was enormous, and it was like an impenetrable shield for the female human who had donned the bear cloak.
  
  Lucius Vorenus knew what it was, of course.
  
  Every Roman Legionnaire sworn to the Triumvirate had studied the disaster of the Teutoburg Forest.
  
  "Berserker! This is a Berserker! Don't assault it frontally, you are going to-"
  
  The axe of the female warrior lashed out, and five werewolves rolled, decapitated before they knew what had killed them.
  
  A second later, it was the burning claws of the 'not-bear' which struck, and several more lupine beasts were slaughtered.
  
  "-die..."
  
  The Lycanthropes didn't slow down. Maybe they couldn't, maybe they thought that their numbers were too big to have something to fear.
  
  If they thought the latter, they were wrong.
  
  There was an axe strike, and then the 'bear' attacked.
  
  In mere seconds, the vanguard of Lycaon ceased to exist.
  
  There were parts of meat and fur flying everywhere.
  
  And then the Minotaur slammed into their ranks, double axe first.
  
  The Lycanthropes howled and turned to face this new threat, but the son of Minos was a hurricane of death.
  
  Enormous claws and maws lunged to end the bull-headed monster.
  
  It was to discover there was no flaw in the guard of the Minotaur.
  
  The double axe claimed dozens of lives with every choreography of steel and death.
  
  The bear-cloaked Demigoddess exploited it to increase the ferocity of her own strikes. And unlike the Minotaur, the red-white 'cloak' of energy made her more or less invincible.
  
  "What are you waiting for?" Lucius screamed to the Teumessian Kits. "Fire your long-range weapons, you have to-"
  
  A silver arrow took one of the foxy monsters straight in his right eye, and the Roman Praetor gaped.
  
  "What by the Senate-"
  
  More silver arrows rained upon the last reserve at his disposal, and each struck with deadly precision.
  
  Each projectile killed one fox, and this literally annihilated all willingness they might have had to rescue the Lycanthropes.
  
  The veteran turned...and saw that in a few seconds, the battle was gone from one-sided onslaught to one-sided butchery...except it was the out-numbered enemy which was massacring the black-furred lupine monsters.
  
  "HOOOOOWWWWWLLLL!"
  
  The howling was powerful, desperate.
  
  An immense form towered over the other werewolves.
  
  It was Lycaon.
  
  It was Lycaon, and the sire of the Lycanthropes attacked with all his strength, attacking from behind the Berserker girl, and delivering a series of properly titanic blows.
  
  But the protection granted by the Berserk aura merely flickered.
  
  It did not fail. It did not diminish in intensity.
  
  The Demigoddess was as ferocious as ever.
  
  Something Lycaon could confirm a heartbeat later, as her axe went to lodge itself into his maw, and continuing its course afterwards.
  
  Lucius Vorenus didn't like Lycaon. No one did.
  
  But the Praetor nonetheless winced, because his demise here was really an ugly one.
  
  The Lycanthropes howled and tried to avenge their sire-leader.
  
  They joined him in death quite quickly.
  
  And suddenly, Lucius felt the ranks of Lycaon's Pack falter.
  
  There was confusion and no small amount of fear.
  
  The Berserker girl and the Minotaur were certain of their strength.
  
  The Lycanthropes were not so sure anymore.
  
  And as was predictable in cases like those...this was when armies broke.
  
  "RETREAT! RETURN INTO THE CITY! RETURN BEFORE-"
  
  "FLEE! WE MUST FLEE! ABANDON THIS ISLAND!"
  
  The Teumessian monsters began to scream their willingness to abandon the battlefield.
  
  The Lycanthropes began to break.
  
  More missiles came screaming at the line of defence, and suddenly, all discipline collapsed. Triumvirate and monsters alike were abandoning the battlefield.
  
  And with them fleeing, the Triumvirate had lost the war for the Golden Fleece.
  
  14 December 2006, former Triumvirate Bunker of the Second Defence Line
  
  "We won."
  
  The tone employed by Luke Castellan was filled with amazement and astonishment in equal measure.
  
  Ethan wasn't going to blame him. Despite everything, standing in the biggest square of the ruined town with no enemy in sight, it was difficult to grasp the enormity of the Suicide Squad's victory.
  
  "We won," the son of Nemesis agreed. "And we did it with reasonable losses."
  
  The last part was especially important, because it had always been the critical point in the Sea of Monsters, and the issue which had worried many members of the Suicide Squad after the fatalities were counted after Perseus slew the Drakon.
  
  "We would still benefit from taking the Golden Fleece, though." Annabeth remarked by Luke's side. "We have three non-Legionnaire wounded, Nick Coleman, Antigone, and...Fergus the Golden Penguin. The first two are mostly fine, just exhausted with large scratches, but Fergus took a large wound to his fin."
  
  "That's because he charged into the trenches like a berserker," Ethan retorted, before realising what he had just said. "No offence, Clarisse."
  
  "No offence taken, Nakamura," the daughter of Ares grunted in amusement, who had just removed her bear cloak and was now pouring buckets of water upon her body to clean from all the Lycan viscera and blood she had been splashed with. "And you shouldn't look at me like that! One might believe you aren't interested in girls like me..."
  
  "Sorry La Rue, but you're not my type." Ethan rolled his eyes.
  
  "And what is your type, by the way? Boys or girls?"
  
  "I will tell you when I discover it," he replied truthfully.
  
  This was one of the flaws of being sired by Nemesis, he knew. You were so consumed by your need for vengeance you often lost the ability to love on your path. Those who managed to escape this fate generally only loved a few key persons in a manner that could be considered amorous...Ethan was still unsure on whose side of this divide he fell into.
  
  "Do you have any explanation why the monsters don't disappear into golden dust?" He asked the daughter of Ares who tried to look half-presentable by donning again clothes and armour. "I don't believe I would have said it before today, but I miss that part."
  
  The smells, in particular, were particularly horrible.
  
  Between the 'berserker rampage' of Clarisse - supported by Asterius the Minotaur, of course - and the warships' bombardment, there were largely over three thousand corpses lying near or into the Greek-themed settlement.
  
  "No." Clarisse shook her head. "Well, Jackson told me it was going to get bloody, but I thought he was dramatic."
  
  "Formidable," Ethan said sarcastically.
  
  It was not going to be fun getting an answer from the insane leader of the Suicide Squad...
  
  Elvis Knight arrived as he contemplated the dream of strangling a certain son of Poseidon for his mysteries and capricious whims.
  
  The Roman Centurion's armour was dented in several parts, but he himself looked mostly fine.
  
  "Victory," the Legionnaire veteran said.
  
  "Victory," Ethan repeated with a nod. "We have three wounded, two of them light. How bad on your side?"
  
  "Five," Elvis Knight grimaced. "Curtis, Xander and Kyle will just need a couple of days to recover, but I'm worried about Chuck and Tim. Unless we heal them with the Golden Fleece, Chuck is likely going to lose his sword arm, and Tim will lose both legs."
  
  Ethan gave a grim expression. This was not good news for sure. True, this was a far lighter casualty list than any reasonable commander might have hoped for, but this was cold comfort for the wounded Demigods that were suffering as they spoke.
  
  "We are going to do our best," the son of Nemesis assured the Roman officer. "I informed Jackson minutes ago that he could proceed to the fourth phase of his crazy plan, whatever it is. The enemy, meanwhile, has been using hidden transports and some magical spells to evacuate its surviving troops by the cliffs, despite the extreme difficulty of doing so. Only a few minor platoons have withdrawn towards the dark temple. Thus our orders are to finish the remnants of the Triumvirate forces which are hiding inside the city, and wait for Jackson's signal. Our part in this battle is almost over."
  
  "That's good news," Elvis Knight's sigh seemed entirely genuine as he removed his helmet. "These surprises...they were a bit too much for my mind, Nakamura."
  
  "I would tell you it gets easier the longer you stay in the Suicide Squad," the Greek officer replied drily, "but that would be a lie."
  
  Ethan caught a jug thrown by Dakota and emptied it without checking what was in it first. As it happened, it was near-freezing water, but it felt absolutely divine after this long and bloody fight for the trenches and the redoubts.
  
  His black eyes looked upwards, towards the stairs of black marble leading to the abominable temple, wondering what sort of madness had seized the 'Guardian' - or anyone, really - to build something so massive in the middle of a Zone Mortalis where no one would come to admire it.
  
  After a couple of seconds, Ethan realised he didn't want to know this answer.
  
  His eyes fell to the highest part of the road just above his head...and Ethan blinked.
  
  There were Roman Legionnaires there, and they were all-
  
  "Centurion Knight!" The son of Nemesis barked. "Your troops are climbing the high road!"
  
  "WHAT?" The expression of shock convinced Ethan that the officer of the Twelfth Legion was caught as much by surprise by this as he was. "No...what they are thinking? They told me they were going to search for a source of drinkable water and...Eustace, you...you...backstabber!"
  
  An instant later, Jade was on his right, and as she did, the air grew colder.
  
  The blue-white spear in the hands of the former Huntress changed and became a unique longbow combining snowflakes and Drakonic carvings into its ice structure.
  
  "Do you want me to kill them for this treachery?"
  
  Ethan raised an eyebrow. It was a good reminder that Jade was not sworn to Artemis anymore, but pledging herself to Khione had not turned her into a timid and fragile flower.
  
  And besides, she had a point.
  
  As the Legionnaires began to use the dark stairs to reach the Dark Parthenon, Ethan knew that their actions were completely premeditated. Given the orders Jackson had given, this was indeed treachery...and mutiny. By all rights, these imbeciles deserved death.
  
  "No," he answered at last. Jade gave him an expression of disapproval, though Elvis Knight remained...hesitant and conflicted. "There are about twenty of them, and you won't be able to kill all of them before they reach the summit and the temple, meaning the original plan is ruined no matter what I order."
  
  Jade grimaced.
  
  "I understand. It's just-"
  
  "That these imbeciles are ruining a very good plan just because they feel entitled to a precious victory? Yes. Yes, I fell like you do."
  
  It had just taken mere seconds for victory to taste like ashes.
  
  "Luke, please inform Jackson. Tell him twenty Legionnaires have disobeyed his orders...and that we are able to see firsthand how true his warnings about the Guardian of the Golden Fleece were."
  
  14 December 2006, the Dark Parthenon, Fourth and Last Line of Defence of the Golden Fleece
  
  Eustace Bragg shouted in triumph as the last enemies perished under their blades.
  
  "He told us it was going to be our death, Legionnaires! He told us the Guardian would kill us! Well, where is the Guardian now? Where is this great and mighty enemy hiding? Tell me, Legionnaires, what do you see?"
  
  "NOTHING!"
  
  "Nothing," Eustace repeated in approval. "And that's because this unbelievably powerful Guardian doesn't exist! Otherwise it would already have intervened when his armies were smashed apart! Now all that remains to do is to claim the Golden Fleece! Onwards to victory!"
  
  "VICTORY! LEGIO FULMINATA AND ROME!"
  
  "ROMA INVICTA!"
  
  Eustace took the lead, and on his footsteps nineteen Legionnaires entered the Dark Parthenon, and oh how it had been delicious to see so many Greeks grit their teeth at the huge insult the enemy had just handed them.
  
  Immediately past the columns, it began to get colder...which was a relief, really. They had all donned their full armours, and the Sea of Monsters was really hot, though there had been some wind. Nonetheless, cold was good.
  
  And it wasn't like the enemy could use the darkness to hide its armies. Not only there were enough torches to provide all the illumination they needed, but the armies supposed to defend this temple didn't exist anymore!
  
  "Err...Eustace?"
  
  "Yes, Scott?"
  
  "Err...I'm not an architect, but isn't this temple way bigger inside than it is on the outside? Because we have walked one hundred metres, and I'm sure we should have reached at least the altar..."
  
  "Err...yes. But that's not a big surprise, right? I mean, they couldn't use it like the Greeks did, right? They had to use some sorcery...they must have added some witchery tricks along the way, right?"
  
  Most of his Legionnaires, the loyal and the true, whispered in agreement.
  
  They continued their walk...and suddenly, the refreshing cold was gone.
  
  It was beginning to be...hot. Humid and hot. There was something in the air that hadn't been there before. It was...like it was trying to lunge you into a kind of torpor. It tried to make you numb.
  
  But they were Legionnaires. They were stronger than this weak artifice!
  
  But the temperatures really didn't diminish.
  
  It was really beginning to be warmer than it had been outside.
  
  Eustace began to sweat. He was sweating a lot now.
  
  Each step seemed more difficult than the previous one. And there was sulphur...sulphur was assaulting their senses.
  
  "The temple...the temple...it is changing..."
  
  "Silence! It is just an illusion."
  
  It had to be. It could be nothing else but an illusion! This was just a temple!
  
  It was a convincing one, he was going to give credit to whoever had built that. But if they thought that sculpting the pillars into screaming faces was enough to scare him, they didn't know Eustace Bragg!
  
  But as the columns grew sparser, the murmurs of discontent were spreading, and Eustace had to shout more orders.
  
  The pillars were getting scarcer, but with every step, they were more twisted. On each side of the avenue they were progressing, they were racks of torture devices, and broken corpses were lying in nightmarish pools of black blood.
  
  The illusions showed...it had nothing to do anymore with the Parthenon or any cathedral. There were pits filled with rusted spikes, and the walls had uncountable alcoves where grinning skulls awaited. The torches were burning with black flames, which somehow provided light, but felt unnatural.
  
  Yet they advanced, and at last, they saw the Golden Fleece.
  
  This was enough to dissipate the doubts, and they ran towards it.
  
  But his Legionnaires stopped well before touching the great artefact Lord Jupiter had ordered them to find and return to him.
  
  "More illusions, eh?"
  
  The columns were behind them, and the zone had nothing in common with a temple anymore. It was akin to a gigantic crater...no, not a crater.
  
  If it was just a crater, there wouldn't be lava.
  
  As impossible as it was, they were into a volcano...an illusion of a volcano, right?
  
  "That is no illusion," Jeremy grunted after throwing a nearby rock into the vast lake of magma that was taking most of the place. "The precipice and the lava are really there."
  
  Eustace swallowed, trying to find a repartee, any repartee...but there was little he could say. Little but the obvious.
  
  "There's a bridge to reach the Golden Fleece."
  
  The artefact was there, in the middle of the 'lake', atop a gigantic column of basalt, waiting for them. And a wooden bridge was the only way to accede it.
  
  "Yes..." Scott curtly replied, "but I don't think it will be prudent to use it in Legionnaire Armour."
  
  "Then we don't," Eustace commanded. "You, Irvin and Craig, you will cross the bridge while we provide support-"
  
  Only veteran reflexes made sure he raised his shield in time, and Eustace glared at the two black arrows suddenly stuck into it.
  
  "AMBUSH!"
  
  They came from all directions, surging out of the darkness and the dark columns. Some were shadows, others were simply shrieking shades.
  
  But all were armed.
  
  Still, as his gladius easily killed four, Eustace felt his confidence returning. In one minute, they had easily killed fifty, and soon it was just a massacre of bones and vermin.
  
  "Go, Scott! Claim the Fleece! We are going to pulverise these old bone bags waiting for you!"
  
  His friend nodded, already discarding as much heavy equipment as was practical before rushing towards the bridge.
  
  It was good...but the flow of undead increased, and the temperature was hellishly hot. It felt like his lungs were burning. It was...frustrating. The skeletons were so easy to beat, but they were always more coming.
  
  Fortunately, Scott, Irvin and Craig had almost reached the end of the bridge and-
  
  "Disappointing. I hoped to trap far more of you...but I suppose this paltry sacrifice is enough. By entering my temple, you have challenged me. And now...now I can intervene."
  
  A gigantic arm rose from the depths of the magma lake before the Legionnaires' horrified eyes.
  
  It was slow and clumsy.
  
  But it was there.
  
  Scott saw the danger. He ran towards the Golden Fleece, where Irvin and Craig ran in the other direction.
  
  The titanic arm caught his friend while he was about to leave the wooden bridge...smashing into the fragile structure and destroying it.
  
  Irwin and Craig fell screaming into the magma lake, and there was nothing he could do! There was nothing the sons of New Constantinople could do!
  
  The owner of the titanic arm waited until all eyes were focused upon the colossal limb before squeezing slowly the hand which had caught Scott.
  
  Blood ran between the articulations of the enormous fingers.
  
  Eustace felt hatred and loathing burn in his heart and lungs.
  
  "DAMN YOU, MONSTER! DAMN YOU! WHY THIS? YOU CARE NOTHING FOR THE GOLDEN FLEECE!"
  
  Laughter boomed, as hundreds of skeletons withdrew. The undead were now...different. They weren't made of bones anymore; instead it seemed they had been built with precious metals and...gemstones?
  
  "On the contrary, simpleton," a second arm rose the magma lake. "The Golden Fleece allowed me to regain my strength here, the spiritual heart of this island that I transformed into my Home."
  
  The head of the monster, when it was revealed, was horror incarnate. It was volcanic rock with plenty of precious metals and gemstones added to it, like the skeletons, but for some reason all the non-black shades seemed to be devoured by infernal flames from the inside...meaning the entire body Eustace could see was looking like it was made of obsidian if you did not look attentively.
  
  "But I could not get out of this Temple without a challenge." An enormous cavity opened, and the legionnaire realised with horror it was a maw. "Fortunately, your lackeys and yourself, simpleton, have been kind enough to provide said challenge. For this invaluable service, I will give you a reward."
  
  A reward? Maybe...maybe...maybe his...maybe there had not been three deaths in vain?
  
  "The Golden Fleece?" Eustace Bragg felt his voice croaking.
  
  Magma began to surge out of the lake, and with it came molten rocks and acid.
  
  Jared and Harper disappeared forever as they were too close to the abyss of lava.
  
  And cruel laughter echoed, almost deafening them.
  
  "You truly are a simpleton, aren't you, Eustace Bragg? No, I won't give you the Golden Fleece, miserable worm. You have done nothing but exploiting the successes of others to reach this final challenge. But I am in a happy mood today...and so you will have your reward. I give you exactly thirty seconds of advance before my enforcers pursue you. And I will warn you...those who die in my Home will serve me for all eternity and beyond."
  
  Hatred broke, and desperation and fear replaced it.
  
  "RUN!"
  
  "Yes, run, simpletons. Run to save your miserable lives. Run knowing you have ushered my ascension, the glorious return of Alcyoneus, Bane of Hades. Run and announce my coming!"
  
  14 December 2006, Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  Perseus snorted when the video from his drone showed him that only five Legionnaires had just stormed out of the Dark Parthenon. The interior of the dark temple was burning behind them, but Perseus knew for sure the mutineers weren't fleeing from the magma.
  
  And they were five of them left.
  
  Five out of twenty Roman Demigods and Legacies who had entered the lair of the Guardian.
  
  "I believe the words appropriate for this situation are...'I told them to not do it'. Or are they 'I warned you, you had to find it the hard way'?"
  
  "I believe the former is more appropriate," Lou Ellen gave him an expression of exasperation as smoke began to appear above the temple's roof.
  
  "What, my dear sorceress lieutenant?"
  
  "Please tell me you didn't compel them to enter this cursed place."
  
  "I used Charmspeak to make sure everyone understood they would die if they decided to ignore my command of staying well away from the temple." The son of Poseidon said virtuously.
  
  On his left, Bianca di Angelo scoffed.
  
  "Yes, your Dreadful Majesty?"
  
  "If you had really wanted to keep them away from this...this Dark Temple, there were over a dozen methods you could have used." The Demigoddess who had been Dread Empress Triumphant declared. "And if you feared this would have been too tiring for you, there were many ways to compensate for that. Try again."
  
  The green-eyed boy placed a hand above his heart.
  
  "But what about the beautiful power of free will?"
  
  Two Demigoddesses stared at him with very inquisitive glares of disapproval.
  
  This left Plan E...tell the truth, and be unrepentant about it.
  
  "Fine, fine...I will admit, I made sure they would enter the Dark Parthenon. In fact, yesterday, I contacted Legionnaire Eustace under a fake identity, and I let him believe I was acting per the orders of the Olympian Council. I may have let him believe he was going to earn a king's ransom if he and his Legionnaire friends were the ones to grab the Golden Fleece before anyone else. In my defence, he really didn't need much convincing."
  
  "This is...well-played." Bianca nodded. "Very well-played."
  
  "You're both unredeemable scoundrels," Lou Ellen glared, and Perseus gave her an innocent look. "Please tell me you didn't kill them just because they annoyed your tyrannical sensibilities."
  
  "Lou, please," the son of Poseidon sighed before giving a glance to the Dark Temple, where magma was beginning to flow out in a powerful river of flames. "If I killed everyone who annoyed me, humans would soon be an endangered species."
  
  "Then why?"
  
  Perseus breathed out.
  
  "This temple might have looked fine when we arrived, but it isn't a normal temple at all. It is a gateway to the Guardian's Domain. Once you step inside, you're in a realm where the Guardian has you dead to rights. If someone had arrived in time to prevent the Golden Fleece from being brought into its dark depths, all would have been simpler...but alas, there was no one to stop it. The Triumvirate failed or didn't care enough to act."
  
  "And since Gods can't challenge another immortal being without paying the price in case of defeat, you had to send bait into the temple," the daughter of Hades continued as several pillars began to burn and an earthquake shook the island.
  
  "Yes. To be honest, I would have preferred to be fewer Legionnaires. I thought Elvis Knight would be able to keep control of his men...twenty out of thirty-two mutinying isn't good at all."
  
  In pure numerical terms, it was in fact even worse, as five Legionnaires had been wounded badly enough to make desertion an impossibility.
  
  "Your terms when they joined the Suicide Squad angered them," the Lightning Thief informed him with a sardonic smile. "They were...particularly insulting."
  
  "My terms had a goal: separate those willing to obey reasonable orders from those who wouldn't." The leader of the Suicide Squad shook his head in a false expression of sadness. "I really hope that when we recover other Legionnaires, they will prove more intelligent than this bunch. Of course the estimates shouldn't have been that high, they decided to accept one Octavian MacArthur among their leadership after all..."
  
  "This is depressingly accurate." The daughter of Hecate grumbled. "What do you intend to do about the five survivors?"
  
  "Oh, I will-"
  
  The 'Dark Parthenon' chose this moment to blow up.
  
  It wasn't the kind of small explosion provoked by one or two artillery shells, oh no.
  
  It was a deflagration so powerful that his first reaction was to activate the magical shields of the Inevitable Doom, before shouting to Anne Bonny to do the same aboard the Second Chance.
  
  "I don't care about the mutineers," the son of Poseidon told Bianca di Angelo, "but get the rest of the Suicide Squad out of here!"
  
  "As you wish-"
  
  The shockwave hit, and then a second detonation, even more powerful than the first, devastated the island's summit.
  
  Magmatic rocks were hurled dozens of kilometres away, enough smoke to make suffocate a massive city was expelled at once.
  
  The temple and most of the infrastructure and stairs had instantly been vaporised, and between the remaining rocks, there was something akin to a maw of magma opening up.
  
  The smoke partially covered it up, but Perseus saw it when it emerged.
  
  It was a gigantic arm, made of the volcano's entrails. Gold, silver, platinum and other incredibly valuable metals had been melted, purified, and forged to create his 'bones'. To make sure the oil and the magma could act as the enemy's blood, they had ritually bound thousands upon thousands of gemstones, and then proceeded to sacrifice countless lives.
  
  Beings like that had been given many names in the past.
  
  "TREMBLE! TREMBLE OLYMPIANS, FOR I LIVE ONCE MORE! PRAISE GAEA!"
  
  Magma soared to the sky, and the island shook, struck by eight powerful earthquakes in close succession.
  
  Many things nearby, including a mutineer who had been too slow running away, were incinerated.
  
  The lava began to descend upon the town, erasing all traces of the previous carnage.
  
  "TREMBLE BEFORE MY MIGHT!"
  
  And then the Guardian began to rise out of the abyss, and despite all the lore he had read, Perseus had to admit...it was a bit smaller than the Drakon.
  
  "I. AM. BACK!"
  
  And a colossal explosion followed the words, one which projected a vast quantity of magma and other projectiles all around.
  
  Fortunately, it was a tantrum, not a true attack.
  
  "Meh. I give him only a seven for the entrance. I could have done it better."
  
  Lou Ellen began to laugh hysterically.
  
  "A seven...ha! ha! Ha! Of course...a seven..."
  
  "I think I broke her," Perseus commented idly.
  
  "I think you broke a lot of Demigods' sanity today," Bianca retorted. "Is this...this Gigantes who I think it is?"
  
  "If you think it is Alcyoneus, self-proclaimed Bane of Hades, dark son of the Earth Mother, Eldest of the Elder Giants...then you are right."
  
  Perseus turned towards Michael Yew. Predictably, the son of Apollo stood there, paralysed in fear.
  
  "Return with Drew immediately. The next phase of the plan must be activated at once."
  
  14 December 2006, the Ruins of the Dark Parthenon, Fourth and Last Line of Defence of the Golden Fleece
  
  There were days when you wanted to strangle Perseus Jackson even if it was the last thing you ever did in your life.
  
  And then there was her day.
  
  The son of Poseidon had teleported her using a ridiculous 'magical lamp' in front of an Elder Giant.
  
  Yeah, it was that bad.
  
  There was some good news. Before sending her away from the Inevitable Doom, the leader of the Suicide Squad had poured an elixir tasting like pear juice in her throat, and the pain had vanished.
  
  It wasn't agony that dominated her thoughts like it had done for the last hours.
  
  For that, the daughter of Aphrodite was thankful...though she had not forgotten the pain the symbiote was giving her was Jackson's fault, and no one else's.
  
  And unfortunately, the good news ended there.
  
  Drew had arrived on top of what certainly looked like a newborn volcano, but promised to be infinitely worse.
  
  Everything was devastation and ruin around her.
  
  The stones were covered in dirt and dust; there were incinerated corpses everywhere.
  
  It was a tragedy of sulphur and soot; a massive lava flow was descending down the slopes.
  
  Like many members of the Suicide Squad, the Demigoddess had wondered why Jackson had never made any intention to claim this island as a fortress of some sorts or to conquer it for another use.
  
  Now she had her answer...as did everyone else. The insane Demigod had never told them any plans where this island was concerned because there were none.
  
  Everything was going to perish in fire and lava soon enough.
  
  Really, if she had not absorbed the metallic symbiotes inside her and became a living weapon, Drew was sure the infernal environment around her would be her death.
  
  The ground was made of burning ashes, the air was suffocating even for her metallic lungs, and there were regular bombardments of rocks from above.
  
  It was simply incredible, the daughter of Aphrodite mused, that she could survive something like that.
  
  But she did.
  
  The Telekhines' work was certainly not to be underestimated.
  
  Unfortunately, it was also killing her.
  
  No one had told her how much time she had left, but Drew knew deep inside that if she failed, she wouldn't see another dawn.
  
  She had to take the Golden Fleece and use its power to stabilise the union between metal symbiote and her body.
  
  Seeing the situation under positively light, she could see the legendary Fleece some distance away.
  
  It had been stuck atop a rocky outcrop, a golden light surrounded by darkness.
  
  The very bad news was that there was a gigantic opponent between the Fleece and she, and it wasn't an exaggeration.
  
  "Excellent, a new challenger!" the evil voice boomed in a sound that seemed to be a combination of a thousand innocent souls shrieking in agony. "I was waiting for you, daughter of Hades!"
  
  Wait, what?
  
  "Your father should not have sent you alone, but he can be forgiven for his arrogance! You, the powerful Lightning Thief against his Bane! He may entertain delusions that I am going to limit my blows and wait until he makes his grand entrance!"
  
  Drew exploded in laughter. As much as she wanted to kill Perseus Jackson here and now, she had to admit the infuriating bastard had once more turned the plans of all their enemies into an ungodly chaotic mess.
  
  "My name, Giant, is Drew Tanaka, daughter of Aphrodite."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Drew smiled largely.
  
  "THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! JACKSON! SPAWN OF POSEIDON! YOU PROMISED IN YOUR LETTERS A WORTHY OPPONENT! HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FILTHY SPECIMEN OF ALGAE? I WAS PROMISED A LEGENDARY DUEL AND YOU SEND TO ME A WEAK SPAWN OF THE WHORE OF OLYMPUS?"
  
  Alcyoneus, Bane of Hades, or whoever this Giant was...Drew was going to murder him.
  
  Drew mustered all her strength, and summoned the metallic being part of her.
  
  She jumped as her arms and her entire body became blades.
  
  She became a weapon of pure destruction.
  
  And a second before impact, Drew Spoke.
  
  "BLEED."
  
  Her blades struck deeply into the left knee of the giant, and a heartbeat later, Drew was doused into a cascade of black ichor.
  
  Immediately, she felt her strength increase, and this realisation wasn't wasted.
  
  Drew struck. And she struck again.
  
  She jumped and she struck.
  
  And Alcyoneus, self-proclaimed of Hades, screamed.
  
  "EEEEENOOOUGGGHHHH!"
  
  Everything exploded. Spikes entirely made of gemstones raised to impale her.
  
  The Elder Giant thundered and raged, and a lake of boiling gold was summoned into existence.
  
  Countless curses were hurled at her.
  
  The air had burned before, but now it seemed the incarnation of fire.
  
  Drew didn't see what the decisive blow was, but at some point, there was something she didn't evade.
  
  The Demigoddess was thrown around and smashed into the ruins of the city.
  
  The symbiotes were trying to erase the damage, but it was not the problem anymore.
  
  Pain, more pain than the world should allow to exist, was paralysing her.
  
  And the Giant was coming, in his hands an immense spear of onyx and obsidian promising nothing but death.
  
  "I AM GOING TO PUNISH YOU FOR THAT, DAUGHTER OF A WHORE. THEN I WILL TURN YOU INTO MY SLAVE. YOU WILL REVEAL ME ALL THE SECRETS OF THIS METAL ARTIFICE, SO I CAN MAKE AN ARMY WITH YOUR METAL-CHANGING ABILITIES. YOU WILL ALL BE DEAD AND MADE OF MY ESSENCE. YOU WILL BE METAL AND FLESH. YOU WILL BE THE FIRST OF A NEW RACE OF SERVANTS!"
  
  "Never," Drew spat liquid silver before the pain made her shiver in agony.
  
  "I don't think I gave you a choice, slave." The cruel eyes of darkness stared at her, and this odious presence made her feel unclean and in dire need of ten showers. "But at least you did fight, and thus you are granted-"
  
  And then a spear of flowers and wood descended from the heavens, and Alcyoneus screamed again as the improbable weapon found its mark: the right eye of the Giant.
  
  "This girl is my Champion," the blonde-haired Goddess suddenly was next to her, and as she helped her stand on her feet, the pain receded. "You aren't going to touch her."
  
  "Persephone," there was enough astonishment in the Elder Giant's voice to fill an ocean, it was clear as day. But surprise was soon replaced by arrogance and malice, it was obvious even on this crude parody of a human face. "Hades! I thank you for offering me your former wife! Don't think it will save you when I will besiege your Fortress and sack your realm...but I appreciate the gift!"
  
  There was a flash of light, and suddenly, half of the self-proclaimed Bane of Hades' right hand was missing.
  
  Drew laughed again.
  
  "If I were you, giant idiot, I wouldn't be worried about the Lord of the Underworld. I would be more worried about what we are going to do to you."
  
  14 December 2006, Armoured Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  It was a fight straight out of the tales of legend.
  
  The island was changing itself into a spectacle of volcanic apocalypse, and in the middle of this, the Goddess Persephone fought on a winged chariot, with Drew Tanaka - or rather the mass of blades and metal which vaguely looked like the daughter of Aphrodite - fighting an Eldar Giant largely over fifty metres in height.
  
  The duo of Goddess and Demigoddess weren't joking. At least four times per minutes, they were hurting deeply the Giant, spilling enough black ichor to fill swimming pools of it.
  
  They were dancing around the gigantic monster, and delivering blow after blow.
  
  But it wasn't enough.
  
  The wounds of Alcyoneus were regenerating nearly instantly.
  
  And each time the Eldest Giant was using its strength to devastate its surroundings, Drew Tanaka and Persephone were taking damage. They were forced to slow down and go on the defensive.
  
  They had to avoid explosions of magma and the very island turning against them.
  
  It was not their fault.
  
  Annabeth felt sure the duo was fighting as best as they could.
  
  And if any member of the Suicide Squad was there with them, the daughter of Athena was sure they would have died long before that. The 'Khione X-Suits' weren't protecting them against magma and hellishly hot temperatures after all.
  
  In fact, most of what had been the third and fourth defensive lines on this island were gone, utterly wiped out as if they had never existed.
  
  "Jackson, they are going to lose," the grey-eyed Demigoddess told the leader of the Suicide Squad...who for some reason had donned a straw hat, a flower shirt, and was currently sipping a pineapple juice while basking in a lounge chair. "What the hell are you doing, anyway?"
  
  "Calm your Owlishness! The sun is really too hot to exhaust yourself this early in the afternoon!"
  
  A hundred metres away, an enormous meteor smashed into the bay, creating untold devastation in its wake.
  
  As for the sun...it was disappearing behind the clouds of smoke generated by the volcano.
  
  If there was a moment to not do a sun bath, it was certainly now.
  
  Translation: Perseus Jackson was trying to suffer from a fever of craziness...again.
  
  "AND NOW, VICTORY IS MINE!"
  
  Annabeth grimaced as she saw the chariot of Persephone had just been smashed, and now the Goddess was in free fall.
  
  And no, it wasn't a feint or something to convince the enemy to lower his guard.
  
  As for Drew, she seemed still active...until a colossal explosion of magma and rocks projected her away.
  
  "FOOLISH GIRLS!" The Giant gloated. "THIS ISLAND IS NOW MY HOME! HERE, I AM INVINCIBLE!"
  
  "OBJECTION!"
  
  This was the voice of Perseus...and suddenly, Annabeth saw that the son of Poseidon had disappeared from his lounge chair.
  
  He wasn't anywhere in sight...but suddenly, the Giant's triumphal expression seemed to have frozen.
  
  Annabeth sighed.
  
  "Of course this was his plan all along..."
  
  14 December 2006, the Ruins of the Dark Parthenon, former Fourth and Last Line of Defence of the Golden Fleece
  
  It hurt. For all the metal was regenerating her entirely, oh by all the Hellhounds of the Underworld, it hurt.
  
  Pain was now her whole world.
  
  And yet at this moment, Drew was chuckling.
  
  For Perseus had arrived, surfing on a river of magma using an obsidian rock as his surf like it was no big deal.
  
  And yes, his appearance was as outrageous as ever.
  
  This time he had chosen to don a straw hat upon his head, a flower shirt with a swimming short for the rest of the clothes, sandals...and absolutely nothing else.
  
  Alcyoneus, given his stunned expression, had visibly not expected that.
  
  But he quickly recovered.
  
  "You arrive too late, son of Poseidon! I have already defeated the weak morsels you sent against my glorious form and-"
  
  "The Champion of Justice and Truth is NEVER late!"
  
  The Champion of what and what?
  
  The black colossus' hellish eyes narrowed.
  
  "I don't know what mad game you are playing, insolent sea spawn, but it will not save you! You are on my own island-"
  
  "FALSE!" The bastard seemed to have too much fun being here and playing his manipulative tricks, honestly. "YOU WILL NOT FOOL ME! JUSTICE WILL TRIUMPH!"
  
  "And how many Legions have your so-called 'Justice' being able to field on that day?" Alcyoneus mocked him...and it rang like a gigantic mistake.
  
  "None!" Perseus grinned, and instantly, Drew knew the Elder Giant was going to regret...everything. "For none are necessary! By the Power invested in me by the Goddess Athena, this island is now given the name 'Pear Island' officially. I, the High Champion of Justice, blessed by the Goddess of Wisdom for the duration of twenty-four hours, decree it. And so it was decreed, so it must be!"
  
  Suddenly, it was as if the island...the dark power which had submerged everything vacillated...and vanished.
  
  Alcyoneus' hilarity stopped abruptly.
  
  "NO! Don't you dare-"
  
  "Pear Island is a sanctuary for large and small creatures," Perseus continued, grinning like a maniac - which he was, really. "By the blessings of the Protector of Athens, in time, no less than twelve colonies of owls will find their home here. The rights of all tortoise species to use the beach as their egg hatcheries are formally recognised. And last but not least, we will introduce several goats, just because I feel like it and we need to fight against forest fires in every way that matters. Your arrogant and ridiculous claim that it is your island is thereby...DISCARDED! PEAR ISLAND ISN'T YOUR HOME! Any questions?"
  
  Drew was busy dying with laughter...God, there was so much pain, but at least she would die laughing...
  
  This was why Perseus had insisted to use this ridiculous name all along.
  
  This was...genius.
  
  If Alcyoneus wasn't on his home island, then most of his invincibility was just vanishing as they speak.
  
  The 'Bane of Hades' had just lost everything.
  
  "THIS IS MY HOME ISLAND!" Alcyoneus roared, but the power behind it faded pathetically. "NO! I REFUSE-"
  
  "JUSTICE WILL TRIUMPH!" It would not have been so ridiculous if a certain son of Poseidon didn't use his straw hat as a parody of a shield while screaming it. "BY THE POWER OF ORDERLY BUREAUCRACY AND ABSOLUTE JUSTICE, YOU WILL BE COMPELLED!"
  
  "NOT," the Giant growled hatefully, evidently having joined the club of 'I hate Perseus Jackson' somewhere in the last minutes, "IF I KILL YOU HERE AND THERE."
  
  "Ah, yes." Perseus seemed supremely unconcerned by the monster towering above him. "There is just a little problem with that."
  
  "AND THIS PROBLEM IS?"
  
  Ten massive spears went to impale Alcyoneus in the head, and his right arm disintegrated.
  
  "Before challenging another enemy, make sure you have defeated the ones you were already fighting with, moron," the leader of the Suicide Squad answered with an 'innocent expression'. "Oh, and the moment I made my bureaucratic proclamation, you lost the protection of your Domain. That's the thing with invincibility...you have it, until you don't."
  
  There was a new explosion, and massive hole created in the chest of the Eldest Giant.
  
  Then Persephone reappeared.
  
  The Goddess...looked like she had been through hell. Her blonde hair were burned or missing. Her armour was cracked and blackened. Most of the protections she wore before had gone missing, and lips, arms, and legs were bleeding golden ichor.
  
  But for the first time, Drew really felt Persephone was a Goddess worth following.
  
  "Finish him, please." Perseus commented lightly. "We have a few important rituals to do, and it is not going to-"
  
  "NO! I REFUSE!" Alcyoneus, somehow, was still standing...which was impressive, given that there were massive holes in his body of gems, black oil-ichor, and corrupted metal. "I REFUSE TO DIE HERE BY THE BLADES OF A PARVENU OF A GODDESS!"
  
  "Kill him."
  
  Persephone struck with hundreds of spears.
  
  "HEAR MY PRAYER! GAEA!"
  
  And the world disappeared into a maelstrom of iridescent colours.
  
  Somewhere both close and far away from the Sea of Monsters...the Primordial Dream of Earth
  
  This...this wasn't part of the plan.
  
  They were plunged into the darkness...and then they were...elsewhere.
  
  "Perseus? Where are we?"
  
  "Ah, Drew...we seem to have...a big problem. Don't talk unless she asks you a question."
  
  They landed.
  
  Or at least it felt like their feet touched ground.
  
  They were...surrounded by roots and old stones.
  
  It was like they were in an abandoned city, one men had left centuries ago, given how much of it had disappeared under the vegetation.
  
  "The pain...the pain, it is gone," the daughter of Aphrodite murmured, as her appearance returned to a silver-coloured copy of her original body. "Is it-"
  
  "No, it wasn't part of the plan, we were-"
  
  "Jackson! This is your fault!"
  
  Three Legionnaires stormed out of the darkness, though the leading one immediately had his feet stumbling against the large roots. It was very satisfying to see him fall, Perseus had to admit.
  
  "Legionnaire Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, and Helmut Veers," the leader of the Suicide Squad enunciated the name of the three mutineers. "I see you survived the devastation."
  
  They must have had a lot of luck, because given how bad it had been on the island for a good hour.
  
  "Why are we here, Jackson?"
  
  The son of Poseidon rolled his green eyes.
  
  "We are all here because we were in Alcyoneus' Domain before it was subsumed into something far vaster, far more mysterious, and far...primordial." Perseus peered in the distance, and found what he was searching for. "Isn't that right, oh self-proclaimed Bane of Hades?"
  
  The Giant of gemstones and black stones' eyes glared at him.
  
  Alcyoneus couldn't do more, not when his feet seemed to have been immobilised by a sea of roots.
  
  "Lady Persephone, are you with us?"
  
  "Here!"
  
  Perseus turned...and winced. The Goddess of Spring was imprisoned in a cage of roots, and her wounded appearance did not invite to any optimism.
  
  "Perseus," Drew insisted, "I don't understand where-"
  
  The former Tyrant felt the power surging too close to comfort.
  
  It was...primal and dangerous.
  
  Damn it.
  
  "We are in the Domain of the Earth Mother...the Domain where she is dreaming. Alcyoneus, in his madness and vainglorious desire to avoid defeat, brought us here. And now...now kneel, immediately."
  
  Perseus obeyed his own advice, naturally. There were times to play the idiot and give plenty of jokes.
  
  This was not one of those times.
  
  Not when facing a being that could erase you from reality with a click of her fingers.
  
  When she arrived, it was as if she had always been here.
  
  She was feminine. She was...just looking at her avatar was...too much.
  
  Perseus had only a glimpse of her lips. Perfect. Perfect shape, perfect shade, perfect...too perfect. The rest...the rest was too much.
  
  "Mother!" Alcyoneus rejoiced. "I have called you-"
  
  "Silence."
  
  The sound was both opera symphony and the thunderous sound of an avalanche.
  
  The rift Alcyoneus was using to speak simply...disappeared. It was removed from reality. Oh that wasn't good at all...
  
  "I was having the most pleasant dream," the perfect lips spoke, "when I was disturbed by the whining of something I once called one of my children. Praises and prayers...and I saw calamitous whining upon the precipice of defeat. Son of the Seas, give me the truth."
  
  "Hey!" Of course one of the Legionnaires couldn't shut down his damn mouth. "You can't-"
  
  The Legionnaire, Helmut, Perseus believed, exploded and sprayed his Roman comrades into a shower of gore.
  
  "Not you," the Avatar of the Earth Mother, Gaea Herself, spoke.
  
  Perseus cleared his throat.
  
  There wouldn't be any second chance there.
  
  "Alcyoneus was weak."
  
  And he stopped breathing afterwards.
  
  "Yes, he is. Continue."
  
  "You gave them the power to be the instruments of your vengeance against Olympus, but Alcyoneus and his brothers squandered it. They failed in their rebellion, and so far, their first attempt to assault Olympus was the most successful one in more than three millennia."
  
  He wasn't going to play any jokes, this wasn't the time. Here and now, it was better to let actions, or the lack of them, speak for themselves.
  
  "Your children the Gigantes will not be able to topple Zeus from his throne and usher the Age you want. But I will."
  
  The Avatar advanced and touched his cheek.
  
  It was both like fire and silk had decided to torture and caress him at the same time.
  
  "I saw you in my dreams changing the Underworld, great-grandchild. You are the one that one of my first children is so interested in. You are...different."
  
  His only hope was that it was the good kind of different, otherwise...
  
  The Avatar left to materialise in front of the self-proclaimed Bane of Hades.
  
  "Alcyoneus. Stop whining, and be convincing."
  
  "This insolent Demigod deserves a long and painful death, mother! Look what happened because of his actions! He broke every promise-"
  
  "In that case, you should have made him swear on the Styx," Gaea acidly remarked.
  
  And just like that, Alcyoneus was silenced again. If the situation hadn't been so delicate, Perseus would have cackled.
  
  The Eldest Giant had really completely missed the points Gaea wanted to hear. The Primordial of Earth wanted words of strength, be it physical or mental. She didn't want to hear excuses or childish tantrums.
  
  Then the Avatar disappeared again.
  
  To reappear before Persephone's cage.
  
  "Great Earth Mother," the daughter of Demeter bowed, her fear evident in her eyes and behaviour.
  
  "Oh, child," Gaea whispered, "you have changed so much since the last time I dreamed about you."
  
  The Goddess of Spring didn't answer, because...well, what was there to answer, really?
  
  "I feel your emotions for my grandchild of darkness. The question is...what you are you ready to lose to be with him again? To rule by his side? To feel the Hells sing with your essence?"
  
  "I fought this battle, didn't I?" Persephone said a bit defiantly.
  
  "You did. My son bears the marks of your fury."
  
  It was as if black velvet gloves were touching the Goddess, and where they did, all the clothes and protections remaining of Persephone, turned to dust, leaving her naked before her great-grandmother.
  
  "But it is not enough," the voice of Gaea might seem gentle enough, but it was merging the implacability of a glacier and the ruthlessness of a forest fire. "If I am to lose a son forever, I want to gain two daughters."
  
  The cage disappeared, and the lips of the Primordial approached Persephone...who presented her throat.
  
  Perseus closed his eyes, and there was a moan of pain.
  
  When he reopened them, Gaea's Avatar was before Alcyoneus once more.
  
  "By strength and cunning, they defeated you. By stratagem and strength, they trapped you. Now let them take their reward."
  
  It was as if earth itself instantly swallowed the Eldest of the Elder Giants...which was not far from the truth, really.
  
  But it was more than that. It felt as if the very fires burning inside Alcyoneus were unleashed against him.
  
  The gemstones and the precious metals which had been essential in giving him its titanic body fell in superb multicoloured cascades.
  
  After what felt like an eternity, only the Heart remained.
  
  A massive heart of black diamonds, which diminished until it held into one hand of Gaea's.
  
  And with as little warning as there had been before, the Avatar of the Primordial was in front of him.
  
  "I am interested by your words, great-grandchild. You have given me very pleasant dreams. But I want you to prove your worth in person." The heart of black diamond was presented before his eyes, and the radiant power within it made him unconsciously shiver. "Give me the sacrifice I need for my daughters."
  
  Drew was not going to lie...she had stopped breathing several times during the last minutes...hours...well, since they arrived here.
  
  The Primordial of Earth. The Mother of All. Gaea.
  
  Most of it was a...dreaming flicker, a minor aspect...and it was sufficient to kill an Elder Giant effortlessly.
  
  "Give me the sacrifice I need for my daughters."
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite felt as if her heart stopped beating when Perseus marched towards her.
  
  "Your hand."
  
  "Perseus, please..."
  
  The sword did drink the blood of her hand, but not too deeply.
  
  It was nothing compared to the pain she had felt before, and yet it hurt something deep inside her soul.
  
  Everything shook and became blurry, though her eyes were able to see the blood, her blood, dripping above the Black Diamond Heart.
  
  The effect was immediate. It was if someone had placed a hand in her rib cage, and began to press.
  
  "United, the Champion and the Goddess faced their enemy. United, the Champion and the Goddess will leave everything behind them."
  
  It felt...like a ritual.
  
  "A curious choice. Your sacrifice?"
  
  Drew tried to stay conscious with all strength...and as such couldn't even muster a scream when Perseus dragged one Legionnaire in the direction of Gaea and the Heart she held.
  
  "No, Jackson! Please! Not that!"
  
  "Do you remember my promise, Eustace Bragg? Do you remember what I swore to do to all the soldiers who failed to obey my critical order? Let me refresh your memory. I promised crucifixion or a worse demise. Congratulations, you volunteered for the latter."
  
  The black sword descended, and a throat was severed.
  
  The flow of blood poured into the Heart.
  
  Yes, 'into', not 'onto', it was like the Heart was drinking the blood.
  
  The Legionnaire's body fell onto the stones and the root. He was dead before he hit the ground.
  
  Drew raised her eyes.
  
  She watched powerlessly as the Primordial approached Persephone.
  
  Drew screamed with the Goddess as a heart was ripped from her body.
  
  Ichor flowed.
  
  The world became a tempest of pain and darkness.
  
  But for all of that, the daughter of Aphrodite saw the other Heart. It was beautiful and terrible...and it was pushed inside Persephone.
  
  The Goddess...her Goddess didn't resist, as Gaea embraced her.
  
  The divine daughter of Demeter opened her mouth...and a seed fell into it.
  
  Drew's back arched violently, and immediately it was as if all the pain was smothered under an ocean of fire.
  
  "Goddess and Champion, Champion and Goddess...an intriguing idea. And now that the seeds are tied, I can unite you as daughters."
  
  Drew began to burn. There was something incredibly powerful burning inside her.
  
  Her body...her skin, she had now scales.
  
  Her body was covering itself into scales.
  
  But somehow...they didn't look like the ones Jade did have. They did not have this Drakonic feeling-
  
  Persephone cried in pleasure.
  
  A second later, so did Drew.
  
  "The dream of fire and ice will begin anew. The first of my daughters will reign over the Frost and the Drakons. The second of my daughters will rule over the Magma and the Sirens. No longer the enchanting voices will fly; now they will swim into the fires of my wrath, and they will lead mortals and immortals to a new Age."
  
  Drew fell upon her back, and watched as her legs merged.
  
  She felt more powerful than ever, and with every breath, her skin of metal changed a last time to transform from silvery metal to black 'scales' made of diamond.
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite fell as the 'Hell Eggs' began to materialise for Persephone and she.
  
  "This...this didn't happen for Jade."
  
  Perseus was suddenly by her side.
  
  "I have a feeling that it did right now," the son of Poseidon replied seriously. "The Champion of Khione will be by the side of her Goddess when she will awake."
  
  As will you.
  
  The words went unsaid, but Drew heard them nonetheless.
  
  Magic and fire danced around her vision, and Drew felt her mouth changing, her teeth being replaced by fangs.
  
  "I...I will return..."
  
  "The Squad will wait for you two. Now sleep, you need all your strength."
  
  Drew closed her eyes, and exhaustion claimed her. Suddenly, everything didn't seem important anymore. Suddenly...everything could wait, as the pain had stopped.
  
  Drew was safe, and this was her last thought as her Hell Egg closed.
  
  14 December 2006, the Ruins of Pear Island, the Doom of Alcyoneus, Sea of Monsters
  
  Perseus breathed out in relief as he crashed back in the Zone Mortalis.
  
  Assuredly, he regretted it a bit immediately. The air was filled with brimstone, sulphur, and of course a lot of smoke.
  
  The former Tyrant breathed in and breathed out again, for all the nasty smells and odours.
  
  He was alive.
  
  "Ha! Ha! Saved! We are saved!"
  
  Perseus' eyes fell upon the last Legionnaire mutineer.
  
  There had been three survivors before Alcyoneus tried to kill them all in what had to be one of the most reckless and stupid gambits in history...ever.
  
  Seriously, what kind of crazy idiot was willing to call the freaking Primordial of Earth, Gaea Herself?
  
  Perseus knew a considerable number of Suicide Squad members thought him mad, but there was madness, and there was that...this act of gigantic stupidity.
  
  "Thank the Gods! Thank the Gods!"
  
  But Alcyoneus was dead.
  
  Given what had just happened to Persephone and Drew, the son of Poseidon was sure they wouldn't spill the secret of what just happened to Olympus.
  
  That left only one witness, and the Legionnaire...he was called Jimmy, wasn't it? No, Jeremy. Well, that left Jeremy as the only problematic witness.
  
  And as the Roman Demigod turned his head towards, him, his expression must have been a mirror for his thoughts, for the mutineer began to beg profusely.
  
  "Jackson, please! I won't say anything! I won't say a word of what just happened! I will keep all your secrets!"
  
  "Oh yes..." Perseus Jackson muttered, "you won't say anything."
  
  And with one powerful strike, he decapitated the Legionnaire mutineer.
  
  The corpse fell into a lava pool, and began to burn on the spot.
  
  "I could have trusted an officer of the Suicide Squad," the son of Poseidon said coldly, "but I don't trust traitors."
  
  The smell...well, that was really a bad day. Now in addition to sulphur and brimstone, there was the scent of burned flesh.
  
  The ungodly mix was really disgusting.
  
  But it was necessary. If the Legionnaire contacted Olympus, Perseus knew was a dead Demigod. The protocols employed by Zeus to deal with the souls who had been in contact with Gaea were simple enough: death.
  
  Perseus shook his head, and began to climb the slopes of Peach Island.
  
  He would lament about this waste of resources later. Twenty Legionnaires had died, the plan he had for the Underworld was going to need plenty of modifications to account for the influence of Gaea...a lot of things that had never been part of the plan were now harsh realities.
  
  Fortunately, whether his name was Kairos Theodosian or Perseus Jackson, he was prompt to adapt.
  
  Plans, in the end, were more guidelines than life-or-death chains it was forbidden to break.
  
  The old plans had burned to ashes.
  
  It wasn't a problem.
  
  He would make new ones.
  
  The smoke was temporarily banished by a gust of wind, and Perseus reached the summit.
  
  It was waiting for him here.
  
  The Golden Fleece.
  
  This was really something divine.
  
  Nonetheless, since he had done too much to fail at the last moment, the green-eyed Demigod threw several expensive magical powders all around it, so that all possible traps were deactivated.
  
  And finally, he was able to lift it from its vulgar rocky support.
  
  It felt...far lighter than the mass suggested.
  
  "I hope you will not destroy our ears with a monologue," Bianca di Angelo announced her arrival with the kind of repartee someone like Triumphant would enjoy making.
  
  "I wasn't about to," the former Tyrant blatantly lied before asking a more pertinent question. "How long were we gone?"
  
  The dark clouds generated by Alcyoneus' volcanic explosion made difficult any estimation...assuming it was still the same day.
  
  "Three hours, give or take it."
  
  "Three hours..."Perseus grimaced. "That's...problematic."
  
  "Why?"
  
  Light pierced the darkness and the smoke.
  
  It was powerful.
  
  It was blinding.
  
  It was as if a second sun was just rising above the horizon.
  
  "The Spear of the Gods," the daughter of Hades cursed.
  
  "The flagship of the Triumvirate and Neo Isis herself," Perseus agreed, "they're arriving a bit too late for the battle."
  
  "Will we engage them?"
  
  The son of Poseidon chuckled.
  
  "We're all exhausted by our trials, and we expended a lot of our arsenal against this island's defences. We also suffered major manpower losses. Furthermore, we have achieved one of our Quest's goals here."
  
  "A simple 'no' would have sufficed, you know."
  
  Perseus Jackson cackled.
  
  "The Golden Fleece now belongs to the Suicide Squad. I am not going to fight a battle here in the name of pride and biting more than I can chow. When I will annihilate the Triumvirate fleet, it will be under my conditions. Mine, and no one else's."
  
  The Drakon-Slayer turned his back on the radiant warship still kilometres away from the ruins.
  
  "We let them keep the island?"
  
  "We let them keep the ruins Alcyoneus created, yes. Let the Triumvirate enjoy this victory...or not, I don't particularly care. The first part of our Second Great Quest is successful."
  
  Author's note:
  
  For those who wonder, yes, in canon Percy Jackson and co had a Great Quest in 'easy mode' to recover the Golden Fleece. In this story, it wasn't just a few man-eater sheep and a lone Cyclops, the opposition was way stronger...
  
  The Second Great Quest will continue next chapter, with many upheavals and new mad plans. I haven't decided upon a tentative title yet.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen (by order of death):
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper plus twelve other Legionnaire mutineers
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber: now transformed into a golden penguin
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and swore herself to Khione
  
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  Reap the Whirlwind
  Chapter 22
  
  Reap the Whirlwind
  
  "My enemies began this war against the Suicide Squad under the childish delusion they were going to defeat us with acceptable losses. They sowed the wind, and now they are truly going to reap the whirlwind." Attributed to Perseus Jackson, words supposedly spoken before the Battle of the Giant's Fall, 14 December 2006.
  
  14 December 2006, the ruins of Pear Island, Sea of Monsters
  
  To be certain, Neo Isis was not going to pretend the island had been beautiful before.
  
  It had been chosen to be the new powerbase of Alcyoneus, and the Giant's presence had been a nauseating thing when she visited it the last time. The parody of Parthenon and the corruption of Death-based sorcery...it had tainted the rocks and the rare fields of this island.
  
  But compared to the spectacle which was offering itself to her eyes...it had been a relatively tolerable view.
  
  What the claimant to the Throne of Love faced today could be summed up in two words: absolute devastation.
  
  And it wasn't an exaggeration.
  
  Everything, truly everything, had been destroyed.
  
  The beach was not a beach anymore. It had been partially turned into glass, and as if it wasn't enough, there were incinerated weapons and destroyed ammunition everywhere, to the point a couple of hours had been necessary for a demining operation. Neo Isis wouldn't have set a foot otherwise on it.
  
  To be honest, the former mortal woman in her almost regretted it now.
  
  High in the sky, the sight had been bad enough. It was now worse when seen from the ground.
  
  The coast was littered with the debris of countless ships, and the bay was worse: it was now a graveyard for the fleet which had been once obediently following her commands.
  
  But as the tormented sea hid most of that particular disaster, Neo Isis' eyes turned again eastwards. Towards what had been the heights of the island.
  
  Towards what was now the heart of the devastation.
  
  It was the location where Alcyoneus had, in his arrogance, ordered his undead slaves to build his 'Dark Parthenon'.
  
  It was there where he had perished, and his current ambitions had died with him.
  
  Mercifully, the volcano had stopped pouring lava, and by all signs, it appeared the craters were rapidly stopping to vent their fury. With the Giant no more, the ash rain and the other debris were rapidly ceasing.
  
  But all this meant was that Neo Isis had a prime view of the utter devastation.
  
  It was if she stood before the end of the world. The very foundations of the dominant heights could now be seen, proof of the overwhelming forces which had ravaged and destroyed the island.
  
  And on top of that...there was...a shimmer of divine protection.
  
  This island had been given to a deity as a sanctuary. It would recover...in time.
  
  Every destroyed crate, every anchor, would be dismantled, removed, or simply forgotten in the next years.
  
  It was entirely possible that the island itself would recover faster for its new purpose than the shock it had inflicted in everyone's minds.
  
  "Goddess, my life in your hands. I have utterly failed the task you gave me."
  
  Neo Isis fought back a sigh. While she had never been in awe of her husband's favourite officer, there was no denying Lucius Vorenus was a competent man.
  
  It would be easy to shoot the messenger, as so many feeble-minded Pharaohs of old did.
  
  And it would be stupid.
  
  All her servants, be they soldiers or not, were left reeling by what this infernal son of Poseidon had done. If Neo Isis went to execute the commanders whose fault was not to anticipate the impossible, there would be mutinies before the next moon. Morale would also fall to new levels of despair.
  
  "Give your report, Praetor."
  
  Thus the Roman Legionnaire did speak.
  
  If she wasn't on the island herself, if she wasn't able to smell and watch the devastation, in addition to all her powers confirming the words...Neo Isis wouldn't have believed it.
  
  A great white whale destroying an entire fleet. Hordes of undead had fought the monsters and other undead. Uncountable constructs of bones and corpses had cleared the first trenches. By comparison, the tricks the invaders had used for the more conventional fights had been more...reasonable.
  
  "We have captured the surviving Lycanthropes and Teumessian Kits."
  
  "Good," she answered, "place them aboard the Dark Menagerie. We will bring them back with us, they may still be useful before this entire campaign is over."
  
  Neo Isis turned back to Praetor Vorenus.
  
  "There will be no punishment for your defeat." The once-and-future ruler of Egypt told him. "You underestimated the Suicide Squad, but so did I. We all underestimated the son of Poseidon and the resources he was ready to unleash in order to recover the Golden Fleece. As such, it would be patently unfair to blame you for something we never saw coming."
  
  There was a light of relief in Lucius Vorenus' eyes...but it was a really, really weak candle.
  
  The face, the posture, the reactions...the man had truly been broken by his defeat, and it was going to take time for him to recover and regain his aggressiveness and competence.
  
  Fortunately, time was something she could give him.
  
  "Return to the Spear of the Gods, Praetor. I will join you shortly."
  
  "Yes, Goddess."
  
  For about several minutes, Neo Isis stayed silent and watched the ruins and the spectacle of total defeat surrounding her.
  
  It was the complete ruin of her strategy...a strategy which was mere days old.
  
  The Suicide Squad, for she had to give the son of Poseidon his due after handing her forces such a defeat, had taken the Golden Fleece and smashed apart a colossal amount of assets which had been placed there to stop him permanently.
  
  Clearly, dividing her forces had been a major mistake.
  
  Everything on this island had been crippled or vaporised, and the moment the Suicide Squad had seen her coming with reinforcements, they had fled, charting a course for a massive storm which had formed this afternoon.
  
  The hunters of the Triumvirate, suddenly, were without prey.
  
  "We are going to return to the ritual site," she ordered. "Give the orders to all the Triumvirate squadrons."
  
  "All the squadrons, Goddess?"
  
  "Yes, all the Triumvirate squadrons." It was, assuredly, completely ceding the initiative to Perseus Jackson and his band of mad Demigods.
  
  But even when the initiative had belonged to the Triumvirate, they hadn't been able to catch him, and attacking straight on the Forge of All Perils...it was too late. She should have done it immediately after the Drakon's death, and with her full strength. Now that Telekhines and other forces had fortified the Forge-Volcano, assaulting that industrial citadel would end in disaster...another disaster.
  
  No, they had to pull back, and fortify as much as they could the island they had chosen for her husband's divine ascension. If they couldn't stop Perseus Jackson there, with all their preparations, be they traps, siege engines, walls, and other stratagems...they in all likelihood wouldn't be able to stop him at all anywhere else.
  
  "And summon the pirate captains. I want to give them new orders."
  
  One by one, the scum of the Sea of Monsters came.
  
  Many of them tried to pretend they were proper gentlemen and honourable souls.
  
  Neo Isis wasn't fooled.
  
  If anything, the female claimant to the Throne of Love was slightly more appreciative of the pirates who didn't bother hiding their true nature.
  
  At least those ones were honest. Monstrous, but honest.
  
  "I have no doubt you all know what happened here." Neo Isis wasn't going to waste her time with courtesies that wouldn't be believed anyway. "Yes, Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, and his Questers he proclaimed to be a 'Suicide Squad', have indeed blasted apart this island, destroyed most of the forces defending it, and recovered the Golden Fleece from the dead hands of an Elder Giant."
  
  No one in the pirate crowd was surprised, but many had the good sense to look afraid...or take very calculating expressions.
  
  "For this reason, and many others, I want him dead," the legendary female ruler continued implacably. "This will be your sole and only task."
  
  One pirate laughed. It was really an ugly sound, filled with malice.
  
  She didn't need any servants to recall his warlord name.
  
  Blackbeard.
  
  "Why shouldn't we let you activate the explosives in our collars, oh Great Queen? I think at least this would be a less painful way to die..."
  
  There were several appreciative murmurs...and Neo Isis glared at the dangerous scum of the seas.
  
  "Because if the son of Poseidon dies, not only the collars will immediately open and release the crews which have been involved in this victory, but the Triumvirate will also richly reward you. Your ships will be repaired. New weapons straight from the Forge of Hephaestus will be given to you. Maps and supplies will be delivered so you can finally leave the Sea of Monsters if it is your desire, or establish your own kingdom somewhere in the Zone Mortalis."
  
  There were many satisfied grumbles. They didn't come from Blackbeard and his circle of allies.
  
  "I want all of that and two millions of Drachmas in gold," the monster wearing human skin grinned.
  
  Neo Isis frowned.
  
  "Provided you manage to kill Perseus Jackson and sufficiently destroy the Suicide Squad so that they represent no threat to my plans before the Spring Equinox, they are yours. I swear it, on the waters of the Styx."
  
  The Hell Sea's power thundered.
  
  "Good enough for me," Blackbeard smiled, and a lot of pirates voiced their support after him. "Let the hunt begin..."
  
  The Second Caesarea watched the columns of pirates, wondering how many of them would still be alive in three moons. She completely intended to honour her oath if they succeeded, an oath on the Styx was not to be broken if you valued your life and your honour.
  
  But after what Perseus Jackson had done to this island, Neo Isis couldn't help but think their chances were too low, whether they were free to fight the kind of war they loved or not.
  
  This was, in many ways, her own Suicide Squad...led by another monster of the seas.
  
  "Let's hope they destroy each other," Neo Isis murmured before leaving this island, swearing to herself she would never return here.
  
  14 December 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Apollo wasn't going to say it aloud, honestly. He had instincts of self-preservation, thank you very much.
  
  That said, only a very foolish God or Goddess would fail to notice that the 'exceptional emergency Councils' tended to become...well, less exceptional, these days. They weren't 'the norm', by any means, by there were definitely more and more of them.
  
  The God of Sun, Music, and Poetry knew many Olympians, his father at the top of them, blamed entirely Perseus Jackson for this state of affairs. And while the son of Poseidon was far from innocent...Apollo knew this was more than unfair. The Triumvirate's existence, alone, could not be blamed upon his head. The treacherous Emperors of the Roman Empire had conspired for centuries before his uncle sired his child.
  
  But he wasn't going to say it aloud, not when the situation was so tense. Though the mood was improving now, after the Lord of Underworld's letter had arrived.
  
  "In conclusion," the Master of Olympus said in a far calmer tone than the one he had used mere minutes ago, "Persephone and her new Champion were able to evade the Giant's ultimate attack and take refuge in his realm."
  
  "Yes," Hermes cleared his throat, "that is exactly what the letter says. He adds obviously that doing so exhausted them...added more exhaustion to the energy expended in the battle, really. They're in dire need of resting."
  
  "And the Giant? What does Hades has to say about him?"
  
  "His essence has been completely dispersed, to the point it will need centuries, probably millennia, to regain some tiny shred of its former might. It seems the self-proclaimed Bane of Lord Uncle was not so much a bane, when he isn't fighting with the home ground advantage."
  
  "And good riddance," his little sister said peevishly.
  
  Nods of support were made in the next seconds. Many of Olympus' enemies would never win popularity contests, but even among them, the Elder Giants were known to be particularly cruel and brutal. That one was no longer a factor for the foreseeable future was certainly an excellent reason to celebrate.
  
  "It matches with what we know happened," Zeus declared, "and yet I have suspicions. Since Persephone disobeyed my commands and entered the battle, we had only an incomplete view of what happened, and once Alcyoneus decided to launch his final attack, we saw absolutely nothing for the last three hours. If they came into contact with Her..."
  
  "I doubt they did." Dionysus materialised a barrel of wine to fill over a hundred glasses in front of him.
  
  "And what leads you to this conclusion?" Artemis asked, unconvinced.
  
  "Too many of the participants are still alive," the God of Wine answered immediately without looking in her direction. "If dear great-grandmother was there, it would be the most lenient apparition she made in...what, two millennia? Three? No, it has to be four..."
  
  "Many Legionnaires are missing," his little sister countered, but her voice was suddenly more thoughtful.
  
  "Mutineers," Athena went to relay their half-brother. "Given what happened to the last one, I wouldn't be surprised if one or two of the missing were sent straight to the Underworld by the leader of the Suicide Squad."
  
  "It is absolutely abhorrent behaviour," Demeter spoke. "Not only he somehow corrupted my precious girl, but he is also enforcing a regime of terror among the Demigods-"
  
  "He warned them," Dionysus had swallowed almost a full litre of wine before taking interest again in the conversation. "I think Jackson promised that if they failed to heed his orders, he would crucify them. One might say the mutineers got away with a far better death than they deserved, in the end."
  
  "You think he would have crucified them?" Artemis sounded...not horrified, but rather shocked.
  
  "Well..." Dionysus rolled his eyes and turned his head towards Poseidon. "He is your son."
  
  "So he is," the Master of Atlantis and Lord of the Seas agreed. "And when we are angry, we can invent a lot of long and agonising punishments."
  
  There was some light bickering, but it ended quickly after that.
  
  "We thus agree that the Elder Giant's final wrath, no matter how...impressive and devastating, failed to achieve anything of note," Zeus rumbled.
  
  "It convinced my daughter to return to the Underworld!" The Goddess of Agriculture seethed.
  
  Hermes raised his eyebrows comically.
  
  "Weren't you the one yesterday complaining that she had somehow managed to steal two credit cards and tried to invent a Ponzi pyramid scheme to satisfy her shopaholic fever?"
  
  Demeter growled, and hundreds of plants began to appear next to Hermes' throne.
  
  "Enough, sister." The Master of Olympus commanded, before increasing the volume when he wasn't obeyed. "I said enough!"
  
  The plants stopped before they tried to strangle Hermes.
  
  But only a third disappeared immediately, and there was some massive amount of vegetation above the God of Trade's throne.
  
  "While Persephone is no longer my brother's wife," the Lord of Olympus began, "everyone who is invited by my brother has the right to visit him in the Underworld can do so. It is not a crime. And...based on Hermes reports, yes, it is good we have...alternatives when it comes to certain shopaholic tendencies."
  
  Aphrodite giggled, earning herself a thunderous glare. The Goddess of Love tried a more apologetic expression, which was clearly insincere as hell, pun absolutely intended.
  
  "She will be severely punished when she returns," Demeter huffed. "That I can promise you, brother!"
  
  "I will hold you to your word," Zeus growled. "She is a daughter of mine, but she completely ignored my edict! And if any of you think to imitate her...you better rethink your moves! Any punishment Persephone will receive will be nothing compared to the judgement I will deliver onto your heads!"
  
  Everyone was suddenly very interested to examine his feet...save Dionysus, who was emptying his barrel of wine.
  
  "Back to the Great Quest. There seem to be good news and bad news. Your son, Poseidon, appears to have decided to obey my commands, and recovered the Golden Fleece."
  
  "Didn't I tell you he had a plan?" the currently green-haired sailor answered with a smirk.
  
  The grumbling which followed shook the Council Room...
  
  "However, while this third goal was accomplished, it is obvious the Questers will not free Ares and Hephaestus before the Winter Solstice."
  
  "Yes," Athena acknowledged, "but if the Questers are not ready to begin a rescue operation against Forge MP-42 and the island where Ares is prisoner, it also appears that the traitor duo of the Triumvirate is not ready either for their big usurpation attempt. All my agents report the former Egyptian ruler and her lover have their eyes set on the Spring Equinox."
  
  "And we don't have anyone else," Hermes remarked pointedly, "the Romans are useless at sea, and the First Cohort's decimation was a blessing, now that we have the correct hindsight."
  
  "They have a bit more than three months left, brother," Poseidon added his support to his niece and nephew. "Given how little time my son's party was given to assemble and sail to the Sea of Monsters, I believe it is not too much to ask."
  
  "Very well," Zeus finally relented with bad humour, "but if neither Ares nor Hephaestus are freed by the Spring Equinox, Perseus Jackson will be the first to earn a memorable punishment!"
  
  15 December 2006, somewhere in the Sea of Monsters
  
  When a storm unleashed this wrath in the Sea of Monsters, it was never a gentle affair.
  
  Even by these standards, the one raging outside the bay where the Inevitable Doom and the Second Chance had taken refuge was truly something terrifying. The waves were twice the high of the super-yacht, and the winds were hammering rocks and everything that stood in the way with elemental ferocity.
  
  It was a good reminder why you should fear the Zones Mortalis. Yes, they had big monsters, crazy traitors, and warmonger villains and heroes. But the weather could kill you far more easily than all of the aforementioned dangers.
  
  Needless to say, Hera would have preferred staying in her cabin, and not set a foot outside. The Inevitable Doom was a very luxurious super-yacht, and it was incredibly tempting to just enjoy it rather than to endure the rain and the other unpleasant things waiting outside.
  
  Alas, if she wanted to have a conversation in private with Perseus Jackson, there weren't thirty-six ways to obtain it.
  
  The son of Poseidon, for reasons no one in the Suicide Squad could guess, had taken the watch outside, and was staring at the vengeful storm and the sea in fury.
  
  And he did it bare-chested with his orange tricorn upon his head.
  
  "Ah, Antigone," he called her, making her grit her teeth, "I see the Golden Fleece healed your injuries...and removed all you acne and skin problems permanently."
  
  How could he tell that? He hadn't turned his head...and under the poor light conditions, it was a miracle to see clearly beyond your nose!
  
  "I believe I told you to not call me by that ridiculous first name!"
  
  "Duly noted...and duly ignored!" the crazy Demigod replied cheerfully.
  
  Hera growled...but had no choice but to let it pass. It wasn't like she could smack him and force this infuriating boy to apologise.
  
  "Did everyone receive the Fleece's healing?"
  
  "Yes..." the former Goddess answered. "But while it perfectly healed wounded Legionnaires, it didn't break the curses of the penguins...or the...the changes of the two Huntresses."
  
  And it hadn't returned her immortality, obviously.
  
  "You sound like you have something on your heart, Antigone."
  
  "I'm Hera," she spat before leashing once again her anger. "Why was the Golden Fleece unable to give me back my immortality or break these ridiculous curses?"
  
  "You don't know?"
  
  "Evidently not, otherwise I wouldn't ask the question..."
  
  Perseus Jackson chuckled loudly enough so that she could hear him clearly despite a new miniature tornado raging around them.
  
  "Fair enough...the Golden Fleece was given some quite miraculous properties. But all of them are focused on a tiny, very specialised field: healing."
  
  Hera frowned.
  
  "You mean..."
  
  "Our trio of foolish penguins is in good health, aren't they?"
  
  "Well, they are penguins..."
  
  And she couldn't believe she had a conversation like that in the middle of a storm...
  
  "The Golden Fleece doesn't really care. It is a magical artefact, and it heals. Human-to-animal transformations...or God-to-human transformations in your case...it doesn't consider them a problem, as long as they don't represent a major hindrance for the one afflicted."
  
  "Kimiko the Huntress has a blue tongue, Jackson."
  
  "And some dirty mind could say it is an advantage in certain professions," the son of Poseidon replied equally as cheerfully, "fortunately, I am above that..."
  
  Once again, Hera felt the urge to try to strangle Jackson. Would it become easier to tolerate this madness in the days to come? The former Goddess didn't know whether she had to be frightened by a positive answer...
  
  Ultimately, she decided to change the subject.
  
  "Jade and Drew are gone."
  
  "Only temporarily," the leader of the Suicide Squad replied calmly. "They will be back."
  
  "You can't be certain of that."
  
  A look of pity was all she received in return.
  
  "Dear Antigone, please give me a little credit. I didn't negotiate several weeks with multiple Goddesses just to hand them the eternal power boost and a personal Champion without benefits for my ambitions. Both the Goddess of Frost and the Queen of Spring agreed beforehand that the moment their transition would be completed, they would place their Champions at my disposal until the formal end of this Great Quest."
  
  "Ah."
  
  Hera gaped for several seconds...it was quite easy to rant that Jackson was utterly mad.
  
  He was, to be fair.
  
  But when he showed such foresight in his strategies, it was...it was really scary...even if the former Goddess of Marriage wouldn't admit it out loud.
  
  "You really accounted for Drew's absence at such a critical moment? I mean, without the daughter of Aphrodite, you had to let Moby Dick go, and without this whale-automaton, we couldn't fight the Triumvirate fleet..."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, Antigone. With or without Moby Dick, fighting the Triumvirate the enemy fleet here and there would have been a terrible idea. Let me remind you that aside from me and a few others, you were all terribly exhausted. Furthermore, unless you have missed it, the Spear of the Gods is a Solar Ark. It flies...and Moby Dick has no anti-air weapons. So while our dear great while-automaton would be able to inflict great damage to the escort fleet, all it means it would present a superb target for the powerful weapons of the Triumvirate's flagship."
  
  "So...all according to the plan, then?"
  
  Hera advanced until she was by the right of the son of Poseidon, watching with him the fury of the Sea of Monsters' storm.
  
  "Perseus?"
  
  "No, not everything went according to the plan. I really hoped a part of the Triumvirate fleet would try to pursue us, so I could defeat them within this storm, sinking them while they were vulnerable and away from the Solar Ark."
  
  "Is it that bad?"
  
  "I fear they are not going to allow us to defeat all their naval forces in detail." Perseus admitted grimly. "I handed them the equivalent of a modern Actium at Pear Island...but unlike at Actium, they still have powerful military forces in their order of battle, both on land and sea...and we lack the order of battle to exploit the weakness."
  
  There were no jokes, grins, or bad puns to accompany the tirade...and it definitely could be acknowledged as genuine bad news.
  
  "If they are smart," Perseus continued, "and I think they are, they will concentrate all their forces on the island where they keep the God of War prisoner, and they will fortify it as much as they can."
  
  "In that case, it might have been a mistake to make such a...devastating impression on them."
  
  This time, the demonic grin returned.
  
  "I don't make mistakes of that magnitude, Antigone. Recovering the Golden Fleece here had to be done...because otherwise, your ex-husband would have sent his assassins after us, under the excuse I didn't try to accomplish his goals for this Great Quest."
  
  This time, the hatred burned hellishly hot in her chest, and Hera let it grow further...the more she lived as a mortal, the more her hatred for that unfaithful oath-breaker was rising.
  
  "I suppose plans have to be changed." She said after clearing her throat.
  
  "That's why I make so many of them," the son of Poseidon chuckled again, and just like that, madness returned.
  
  "Oh, is it Plan D? Or E?"
  
  "Antigone, please do not say nonsense! Do you really think I would limit myself to a meagre twenty-six contingency plans?"
  
  Now that the truth had come out, Hera indeed admitted it was kind of foolish to have had that sort of thoughts for a few minutes...
  
  17 December 2006, the Docks, Forge of all Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Now that they had survived this hurricane - the apocalyptic weather had been so bad it felt disrespectful to call it a mere 'storm' - Elvis Knight supposed tradition forced him to pretend everything was fine, victory had been obtained at a reasonable cost, and one of the key objectives of the Great Quest, the legendary Golden Fleece, had been recovered. This, in return, had allowed everyone wounded in the battle to be healed.
  
  Thus morale was excellent, everything was perfect, and every Demigod and Demigoddess was awaiting eagerly the next operation, which assuredly would make them wealthier and more powerful.
  
  All of this was a lie, by the way.
  
  The moment they had dispersed over the Docks - trying their best to not disrupt the repair work of the Telekhines working there - the Roman Centurion had felt trouble was about to start.
  
  Though to be honest, Elvis Knight wondered why he still pretended to be a Centurion.
  
  In the last three days, his authority over the surviving Legionnaires had decreased to a point one could clearly wonder if it existed anymore.
  
  And what was an officer without men to command? Very little, in the grand scheme of things...
  
  And as much as he wanted to say it was a recent thing, the root of the problems he faced had begun with the purge of a generation of officers. Bryce Lawrence and those sycophants of Octavian had built the First Cohort in their image: corrupt, treacherous, and incompetent. And when the officers pursued such 'values', well, what did you expect from the Legionnaires? A Legion had the men its officers deserved, nothing more, nothing less.
  
  The real miracle, in fact, was perhaps not that Eustace had led nineteen other Legionnaires to their death.
  
  It was that only twenty out thirty-two men had died, though of course, the wounded had hardly been in position to walk, never mind fight...and Elvis wouldn't be surprised if Eustace had intended to keep some numbers low in order to divide the 'rewards' among his mutineers.
  
  All of this...well, it was really bad, of course.
  
  Most of the 'officers' of the Suicide Squad had been looking with expressions of suspicion at the Romans. By the Pits, for once, the Huntresses' hatred had changed of target, Perseus Jackson being no longer the problem in their eyes.
  
  This, obviously, told you how much the Twelfth Legion had screwed up...when the Huntresses preferred watching you with hawk eyes instead of the son of Poseidon, there was a really, really big problem.
  
  And now the trouble was about to explode.
  
  Elvis saw Chuck lead the Legionnaires who had all showed signs of 'troublemaking' at some point or another, reinforced by the ten wounded soldiers who had waited for their return here.
  
  There were eighteen of them now, in two columns...and they all marched with a common purpose towards their target...who saw them coming and crossed his arms. Oh, and the 'target' had a roguish look on his face. That was not going to be good...
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  "Yes, this is my name, last time I checked," the son of Poseidon replied with his usual grin. "Oh, but it is Charlie!"
  
  "IT'S CHUCK!"
  
  "Whatever you say, Charlotte!" the crazy leader of the Suicide Squad. "Was it something important that let you to this glorious corner of the Docks on this splendid morning?"
  
  "You know why we're here! We want you to relinquish your leadership now you have proven yourself unfit to command!"
  
  "I see," Perseus Jackson didn't even seem fazed when Chuck drew his Gladius. Ironically, the Telekhines present on the Docks showed more reaction; they stopped working to watch what was happening. "And the reason why I should consider this stupid motion is?"
  
  "Unless you're even crazier than we thought," Chuck hissed angrily, "you might notice that we eighteen have had enough of your suicidal tactics-"
  
  "And there isn't a single officer of the Suicide Squad among you. Thus what you want is irrelevant, because...because I think a goat's vote is more important than yours. Anything else?"
  
  Plenty of Demigods and Telekhines laughed raucously at the announcement...of course it just fuelled the anger of Legionnaires.
  
  "You don't have any more Goddesses to protect you! If you don't relinquish your position, we will make sure you do it by force!"
  
  Chuck struck...but no matter how fast he was, Jackson was even faster. The standard Gladius met nothing but air...and suddenly Chuck stopped moving, because the son of Poseidon had immobilised his sword arm.
  
  With one hand.
  
  And by the looks of it, Chuck was frenetically trying to take his limb out of the other Demigod's grip...in vain. The hold Perseus Jackson had could have been made of titanium given how little effort he showed.
  
  And then as Chuck realised he wasn't able to move or get out of this grip, Jackson delicately disarmed him, in a gesture that was very much an insult.
  
  "So, Chimera, I can call you Chimera, right?"
  
  "IT'S CHUCK!" The Legionnaire of the Twelfth roared, though his voice had a lot of fear in it.
  
  "Chimera, it is!" The grin lasted a few seconds...and then was replaced by a malicious expression. "Seriously, you really thought that because the two Goddesses I negotiated with are in the Underworld right now, you had a chance against me in a duel? You were really not the brightest strategist of New Constantinople when recruitment day came, right?"
  
  "I am not alone, in case, you forget! LEGIONNAIRES! ATTACK!"
  
  But no one else drew swords or took a fighting position.
  
  It wasn't difficult to see why. On each side, the two sorceresses had taken position. The daughter of Hecate had conjured some red-burning glyphs which were inflicting considerable pain every time they tried to move. As for the daughter of Hades, she had cast a spell which swallowed the feet of several Legionnaires in some sort of shadowy pool, and from which very threatening pincers appeared from time to time.
  
  As a result, none of the seventeen Legionnaires could more a single finger...nor did they dare to.
  
  "This is really, really one of the least subtle mutiny attempts I've ever seen in my two lives," Elvis couldn't be mistaken, but...was the son of Poseidon really complaining? "There was no planning with your friends I let stay inside the Forge, you literally engaged me on a field of my choosing. Honestly, this is just...pitiful."
  
  "STOP MOCKING ME!"
  
  "You're right." Perseus nodded. "This whole thing has been a massive disappointment. I've been waiting for this for three days...and really, there is nothing salvageable."
  
  There was a flash of metal, and suddenly, Perseus plunged the Gladius in Chuck's heart.
  
  And then for good measure, the leader of the Suicide Squad let go of his arm, and broke the Legionnaire's neck.
  
  With his bare hands.
  
  Palatine Hill preserve him, these imbeciles had tried to mutiny against that?
  
  Chuck fell like a bag of potatoes on the ground, but Elvis knew he was already dead before the final collision.
  
  "Now that the mutineer-in-chief has received his proper punishment...let's deal with the rest."
  
  "Let me crucify them," Bianca di Angelo intervened. "This was your promise, remember?"
  
  "I didn't swear it on a certain Hell River," Perseus Jackson countered with the same grin filled with insanity. "And besides...crucifixion is so...permanent. It would also decrease the ranks of our Suicide Squad at an unfortunate time. I am going to pursue an alternate contingency. If it fails, I will let you have fun with them, your Dreadful Majesty."
  
  The malicious green eyes observed the entire assembly, Telekhines, Officers, and Mutineers alike...before teeth were bared into an expression no one sane could have described as 'pleasant'.
  
  "Prostrate yourselves."
  
  Seventeen Legionnaires instantly obeyed.
  
  Most only realised what they did when they were on the ground.
  
  "Congratulations! I have decided to create a special section among the Suicide Squad, and you band of mutineers and oath-breakers have just volunteered for it! In the honour of one of my eternal friends, I have decided to call it...the Gallowborne!"
  
  The dreadful feelings had never left, but with this last announcement, despair truly intensified.
  
  "Now you might wonder what kind of role you will have to fulfil so you continue to breathe for a day longer and not join Charlie there in the halls of the Underworld. Wonder no more. From now on, I own you, Legionnaires. You have no rights, save the one to be sent on hellish battlefields fighting insurmountable odds. The moment you disobey one of my commands again, any officer will have not just the right, but my benediction to strike you down."
  
  This was...it was hard to say it wasn't undeserved...and Elvis Knight couldn't do anything.
  
  He was their Centurion...emphasis on the 'was'.
  
  "Twice you screwed up so bad no one on Olympus would bother throwing you a bucket of water if you were on fire," Perseus Jackson continued mercilessly. "Understand me well, there won't be a third time. But let's not say I am a merciless Tyrant. I owe you, this will never change. But if your service lasts three Great Quests without giving me a reason to complain, it is not impossible I will agree to release you from my service."
  
  Some hope returned on the mutineers' faces. It was...really desperate, but it was difficult to blame them, given what awaited-
  
  "Of course," and the Tyrant was back, prompt to crush even these tiny lights he had himself turned on. "There is a last matter to deal with. Yes...I believe the proud volunteers of the Gallowborne must be aware of their true place in the Suicide Squad!"
  
  "But we didn't volunteer!"
  
  That, evidently, was a colossal mistake.
  
  "Thank you, Scapegoat, for explaining my new order: the death of your old selves."
  
  What? No, no, surely he didn't-
  
  "You! From now on, you will be 'Cannon-Fodder'!"
  
  "Hey!"
  
  "Here is 'Future Zombie'!"
  
  One by one, the Legionnaires received an absurd and insulting description to replace their names, and absolute interdiction to use their old identities under pain of death.
  
  "And last not least, let's acclaim...'Dead Legionnaire Walking'!"
  
  The applause was sonorous...from the Telekhines.
  
  "All right, the show is over. Everyone goes back to work. Members of the Suicide Squad, I want everyone in the Grand Strategium tomorrow morning at nine. Don't be late, Gallowborne, or the meeting will begin with your public execution, certainly by crucifixion, unless I mercifully allow you to be boiled alive..."
  
  18 December 2006, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Annabeth would lie if she said she had missed the so-called 'Grand Strategium'. The place hadn't changed at all: you had to be in swimsuit if you wanted to avoid a lot of discomfort.
  
  As the newly-created 'Gallowborne Division' could attest, because they had not been allowed to don any swimsuit today.
  
  Instead they wore bright orange suits which looked like prisoner clothes...and the daughter of Athena supposed it was kind of the point Jackson was trying to make.
  
  Oh, and on every T-Shirt the mutineers had been ordered to don, there was the message in neon colours 'I tried to mutiny, I failed, and all I got was this stupid T-Shirt'.
  
  Jackson's humour was really, really something unpleasant when you were on the receiving end of it, assuredly.
  
  "And we have been able to install ten more anti-air pieces after correcting the problems with the five anti-ship batteries," the shark-looking Telekhine called Frankie finished his reports. "Ammunition production is rising nicely, Boss. We will be able to provide you a lot of missiles and nice toys according to the urgent schedule you fixed, Boss."
  
  "Music to my ears, Frankie," Perseus replied with one of his grins. "Thank you for your dedication...give your teams my compliments for the superb work."
  
  "I will, Boss!"
  
  The Telekhines saluted martially before leaving one by one the Grand Strategium...soon the only beings in the 'Strategium' dominated by hellish hot pools were the members of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "All right," the son of Poseidon watched them all with a carnivorous expression that made Annabeth's heart beat far faster than usual, "once more the Suicide Squad triumphed, my plan was genial, and the Golden Fleece was recovered for minimal losses. You can stand in awe of my superior intelligence."
  
  "You'd better not make a new monologue," Ethan Nakamura grunted.
  
  "Everyone is a critic these days," the son of Poseidon complained loudly, though the grin never left his face. "Anyway. As all of you were informed before the beginning of the Great Quest, recovering the Golden Fleece was one of three chief goals. Since this one was successful, we must turn our attention towards the two others: free the God of the Forges and the God of War from their respective prisons."
  
  Given how it was expressed, no one, not even the Huntresses, could do anything but approve this course of action.
  
  "Who do we begin with?" Leo Valdez asked, the son of Hephaestus managing to be...as hirsute and unkempt as ever, despite wearing only a swimsuit.
  
  The grin on Perseus' face disappeared...replaced by something which approached the description of a genuine grimace.
  
  "That's where there is a problem, I'm afraid."
  
  "Problem?" Jenna the Huntress scoffed. "I don't see where there is a problem. We know there are very few islands which are adequate for the kind of abominable heresies the Triumvirate traitors have in mind. In the Sea of Monsters, their choice is even more limited. They are certainly waiting for us on the island of Guadalcanal."
  
  "Yes," the green-eyed Demigod replied simply, surprisingly not choosing to taunt the servant of Artemis. "And do you know how to find said island? Because I assure you, I don't. I have been unable to spy upon it, or even to remember the coordinates. None of my drones, not even the best magically-guided ones, were able to fly anywhere near it and deliver some priceless information."
  
  "That's concerning, all right," Richard Grant intervened, crossing his heavily muscled arms in an impressive pose. "The Triumvirate traitors hid the island, and certainly intend to fortify it so it is impregnable against conventional...and unconventional assaults."
  
  "Exactly," the leader of the Suicide Squad agreed.
  
  "No spell or enchantment is perfect," the Lightning Thief calmly announced. "There has to be a weakness."
  
  "Of course. In this case, the weakness is the 'anchor' of the sorcerous means to hide the island. When you have to hide a God's presence alongside an entire island, you have to provide a lot of magical power...or divine power. And what better way to hide a deity than to use another for your schemes?"
  
  "That's...extremely clever," Annabeth admitted.
  
  As long as they hadn't freed Hephaestus, they couldn't go after the Triumvirate, not if Mark Anthony and Cleopatra were willing to stay on the defensive. And as far as the evidence of the last forty-hours suggested...they did intend to do exactly that.
  
  "Then what are we waiting for?" Nick Coleman, no longer looked sick or feeble thanks to the Golden Fleece's magic, spoke with an impressive amount of arrogance for someone who hadn't done anything of note...so far. "We know where the God of Fire and the Forges is imprisoned. If we have to begin by storming his prison, so be it!"
  
  Jackson uttered 'Kappa', and instantly, a divine projection materialised inside the Grand Strategium.
  
  It represented...a citadel.
  
  A really, really huge citadel.
  
  Annabeth thought it was an island-fortress, but the defences covered so much that there was no way to say if there was an island supporting the fortifications and everything she could see...there had to be right?
  
  "Let me present you," Perseus Jackson did not grin or show any amusement, "what was some months ago Forge MP-42, and is now the prison of its former owner."
  
  Every member of the Suicide Squad had suddenly become grim, and for very obvious reasons.
  
  "As you can clearly see," the son of Poseidon continued, "the outer wall was rebuilt after the battle which saw the Gods' capture. After that, they built more walls and redoubts. They even built more parts of the citadel in the surrounding sea itself, so to deny the very possibility of a beachhead to any invading force."
  
  "But you have Hydrokinesis, right?" Luke asked what she had already on her lips. "This shouldn't be a massive challenge for you."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad made another grimace.
  
  "Look better, Luke Castellan. Do you notice something particular between the different kill-zones and walls?"
  
  "The water...it looks like it is...boiling?"
  
  "It might be a geothermal spring...I see a lot of steam..."
  
  "The Titaness of the Seas," the son of Poseidon took once more control of the discussion, "has, by her mere presence and her capture of the God of Fire, created an extreme environment that no Demigod, no matter how powerful his or her lineage will be able to tame. If any invader manages to break through the first wall, he or she will have no choice but to fight his way from kill-zone to kill-zone, evading or disarming the countless traps awaiting an enemy to be triggered. I must also mention the quite modern army of dolphin-automatons and other creations that will hold the ramparts and each layer of defences. And once again, I will insist, the moment you're past the first line of defences, all the fighting will have to be done by the infantry. I've no doubt some among you relish the challenge...I don't share this confidence."
  
  "The Grand Strategium..." Annabeth murmured, and suddenly why the Forge of All Perils was as it was suddenly became clear. "This isn't just an attempt to make us stronger or to force us to sweat? It is an attempt to replicate the conditions we will certainly have to fight when we will assault Forge MP-42."
  
  "Very good, your Owlishness."
  
  Annabeth immediately scowled.
  
  "And before anyone tells me they can handle this warmth just fine, let me remind you that you will have to fight in this kind of environment with water up to your knees, if not higher. Oh, and clearly, it's better not to count on heavy armours...or armours at all there."
  
  "Is that all?" Ethan asked, his tone clearly a masterful strike of dark sarcasm.
  
  "Of course not," Perseus Jackson didn't bat an eyebrow. "Once you have fought your way through all the defences, you still have to confront a well-rested Titaness, remember?"
  
  The expressions had been grim before. They showed something very much akin to despair now. The divinely-materialised representation of the citadel didn't help. The Suicide Squad had fought against strong opposition, the battle to recover the Golden Fleece had been won against near-impossible odds.
  
  "Meaning that once will have exhausted ourselves fighting automatons, monsters, and lieutenants of the Titaness," Miranda Gardiner summed-up darkly, "we will be out of breath and absolutely dead meat to confront an opponent which can pretty much drown us in mere seconds after we issue a challenge. Or am I failing to see something critical, Jackson?"
  
  "You don't," Perseus shrugged off surprisingly honestly. "At this time of our Great Quest, the best option we have is to beg the Titaness to relinquish her illustrious prisoner."
  
  "Then what was the point of coming here?" barked a Legionnaire part of the Gallowborne.
  
  "Future Zombie," the evil grin was back, "let me remind you that the Expeditionary Force of the Roman Legions volunteered for this noble and suicidal adventure, and at the time you sailed away from the harbour, the opposition was very much the same."
  
  The Legionnaire glared, but shut his mouth, clearly out of arguments.
  
  "But let me reassure you...I have a plan, Suicide Squad!"
  
  Fierce groans were heard...and several Drachmas changed hands.
  
  18 December 2006, Bayou Island, Sea of Monsters
  
  Octavian wished he had understood far sooner this whole expedition was a death trap.
  
  This was the fault of the Gods!
  
  He had always prayed to them, sacrificed so much for their glory, and what was his reward?
  
  To be chained and collared by a warband of murderous pirates, who looked like they had all escaped a hell pit.
  
  Octavian bit back the urge to scream. They were always beating him when he opened his mouth.
  
  If at least it was the pirates beating him...unfortunately, the bloodthirsty beasts found it all the more amusing to let his fellow Legionnaires do it.
  
  And these bastards did with relish. They had turned against him, Octavian McArthur.
  
  For that, he would kill them. Octavian swore it on the Styx and every river of the Underworld. No matter what happened, he, glorious Legacy of Apollo, would have his revenge. No matter how many humiliations they inflicted, no matter how much pain he felt, the Centurion of the First Cohort would make sure every insult and blow was paid a hundred fold.
  
  They had dressed him as a woman, just because they felt he was 'too pretty to be a boy'. They had...they had marked his flesh and inflicted upon him humiliations and things he would be haunted by for years.
  
  But Octavian would have his revenge, no matter how long it took him.
  
  Against his Legionnaires who had betrayed him.
  
  Against the scum of the seas, those Blackbeard Pirates.
  
  Against the Gods, who had done nothing while he was enslaved.
  
  "Captain we are making very little progress, maybe we should turn back!"
  
  "Our Fate is good today, Lafitte, I feel it!"
  
  "Captain, so far in this swamp, I don't see a lot of good omens...there are only those mosquitoes, this swamp, and the rain...our muddy trail was bad enough, but we don't even know if we are-"
  
  "We are moving closer to our goal. I know it." The monstrous leader of the pirates made a sound that couldn't be laughter, it was too...discordant. "And no, I won't turn back. The Giant's Fall and the White Whale's Annihilation Tide proved the son of Poseidon was clever. I can't offer him a fair fight, he would remove my head and throw it to his Telekhines, and we want to avoid that, eh, Lafitte?"
  
  "Yes, we do, Captain! But you haven't told us why we need to crawl in this swamp..."
  
  "Patience, boys! The answer is going to be worth the wait, I promise!"
  
  The two pirates went away, and Octavian and all the other members of the drowned column had no choice but try to continue their 'walk'...which was incredibly difficult.
  
  But after a good hour or two, they began to accelerate, courtesy of the swamp receding, and what looked like an old Roman highway appearing from nowhere.
  
  To be sure, the highway was in a bad state, with plenty of pavement missing, and on each side looking like the jungle was about to devour them...
  
  "Octavian is slowing us down again..."
  
  "That must be the heels we forced her to wear...use the whip, he will stop slowing us down for a few minutes!"
  
  It immediately hurt, both mentally and physically...but more the former, for it was Legionnaires who had struck the blow, and without any order from the pirates.
  
  Yet heels or no, the walk was far faster and easier than in the swamp. The mosquitoes were gone too.
  
  But what was revealing itself to their eyes was strangling in the cradle any positive feeling Octavian might have ever felt.
  
  It was an enormous edifice...it looked like one of those dark temples you only found in ridiculous fiction books. The one which always began with a sleeping evil that shouldn't be disturbed...
  
  Hours later, Octavian acknowledged his mistake, as they finally entered it.
  
  It wasn't a temple or any place where Gods were worshipped.
  
  Or maybe it had been some time ago.
  
  But not anymore.
  
  Now, it was a prison.
  
  A prison where odious pirates and monsters had been imprisoned.
  
  There were many monsters Romans and Greeks had to deal with on a permanent basis. Evil Cyclopes, Empousai, lesser Gorgons, and many more things of claws, talons, and fangs.
  
  They were all monsters, and they watched them with predatory eyes.
  
  No jail was opened. However, there were automaton guards, which were easily defeated as Blackbeard turned all their weapons against them. The human-looking monster disappeared into the darkness only to reappear where they didn't await him.
  
  "I need reinforcements for my crew."
  
  For the first time, the roars, hisses, and insults totally stopped.
  
  Octavian wanted to say because it was of the surprising announcement...but no, it was the pirate who had enslaved him...
  
  "I do not care if you have too many hands or how many souls you devoured for the sake of your ambitions. I do not care if you've offended one or dozens of Gods. If you have the will to survive so long in this prison, then you have the strength to be of use in the Sea of Monsters."
  
  The enchanted metal bars of the prison were shaken, and monsters roared their approval.
  
  "But I only have a few ships now. Places among my crew are limited. If you want to get out of your prisons, you will have to reduce your numbers the hard way."
  
  "How do we know you will hold to your word?" an Empousa licked her claws with an expression that presaged nothing good.
  
  Blackbeard drew his long sword...and then without warning, he cut down the arm of Mark, the very Legionnaire who had struck him with his whip hours ago.
  
  Naturally, the bastard screamed and begged for a battle-medic...and Blackbeard utterly ignored him.
  
  Instead, the vile pirate grabbed the severed limb, and threw it into the Empousa's prison through the bars.
  
  "Prove you strength, and as Fate is my witness, you will get your freedom."
  
  It didn't take more than a couple of seconds for the bloodbath to begin.
  
  18 December 2006, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Ah, the groans were something Perseus wouldn't miss for all the gold in the world.
  
  "Feel free to groan all you want, but my plan is necessary," the former Tyrant said cheerfully. "And you know it. First, if you want to blame someone, blame the mutineers."
  
  "Not me?" Hera asked with considerable surprise.
  
  "Nah, you're to blame when it is a divine problem from now on," the son of Poseidon 'reassured' her. "For the affairs of the Suicide Squad and the Sea of Monsters, the Gallowborne and the dead mutineers can take the blame. That's why one of them was named 'Scapegoat', in case you had any doubts."
  
  More groans followed, proof that his genius was evidently acknowledged by the Suicide Squad.
  
  "Now that this point had been made clear, we must admit the evidence: the Suicide Squad has severe manpower shortages. Drew and Jade will join us back eventually, but not in time for the next battle. On the Legionnaire front, their perfidious and totally expected mutiny gave us a lot of cannon-fodder, but decreased the number of conventional soldiers at my disposal. And so far, despite erratic contacts, we haven't been able to join with the other survivors of the Expeditionary Force."
  
  "Yes, yes," Clarisse interrupted. "Now you told what this plan wasn't about, the bad news...I mean, the plan, Jackson."
  
  "You haven't say the magical word..."
  
  "Please, Jackson tell us the plan...before we organise a real mutiny, not the half-baked thing the Romans did."
  
  "And here I had prepared a superb monologue," surely the Gods would forgive him if he faked a non-existent tear at that moment, right? "Very well. The plan is to invade an island which is a Goddess' main residence."
  
  "How fortified is it?" Michael Yew asked.
  
  "Oh, it has no fortifications whatsoever. It's just a spa."
  
  Centurion Elvis Knight, clearly, was the one who understood first what he was speaking a first.
  
  "A spa...no, you couldn't possibly mean...the...it's Cir-"
  
  "Call her C.C, please. Names have power, better to avoid some big mishaps."
  
  "C.C?" Emperor Penguin Skipper...squeaked vigorously. "But she's the one who destroyed the Legion's aircraft carrier with a single shot of her super-weapon!"
  
  "May I say I also loved the way she taught to the idiots in charge the concept of 'decisive battle'?" After all it was better to lighten the atmosphere...
  
  "DO YOU WANT US TO DIE?"
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "Dead Man Walking, if you want your status to reflect your name, please keep panicking."
  
  Suddenly, the Gallowborne Legionnaire decided to shut his mouth...too bad.
  
  "So now that the obvious has been said, yes, I will confirm that while the spa is not fortified, it is defended by a super-weapon called the Eye of Helios which is a combination of divine sun-aligned power and laser technology. Yes, the island is the headquarters of C.C, one of the three Immortal Sorceresses. Yes, she has most likely prepared new traps and magical enchantments to make sure the defeat of the Romans can be replicated to any force which dares invading her island. Any questions?"
  
  "Indeed, I have one." Bianca di Angelo bared her perfect white teeth.
  
  "Yes, oh your Dreadful Majesty?"
  
  "Aside from benefitting from the effect of surprise and your urge to pretty much declare eternal friendship to the entire Sea of Monsters before waging war upon half a hundred different enemies, is there a particular reason for the invasion?"
  
  Perseus gasped theatrically while placing both hands above his heart.
  
  "I am shocked you think so little of me! Why, I am devastated!"
  
  The former Dread Empress gave him an expression which was filled with impatience and scepticism.
  
  "Now that I have defended my honour," the green-eyed Demigod said after a few seconds, "I have to admit that yes, there is a good reason why I have decided invading C.C's Spa and resort is the best preparation of an immense range of plans to prepare the attack on Forge MP-42. You see, C.C has loosely allied herself to the Triumvirate, and has profited from it to refurbish old and new weapons with the technical support of their illustrious prisoner. As such, the Eye of Helios is only one of many super-weapons that are waiting for us there."
  
  His words, predictably, were answered by fierce grimaces.
  
  "Jackson," the son of Dionysus was the first to react, "many of these super-weapons will be activated by C.C to destroy us!"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, my drunken lieutenant!" Perseus answered cheerfully...and truthfully. A mental command, and he summoned one of the best photos the Telekhines had been able to give him. "Just to give you an example, there is this."
  
  "It looks like...a secret submarine base," the daughter of Athena said with narrowed eyes.
  
  "It is exactly that, yes. During the Antiquity, C.C lured men who found her island and transformed them into pigs. At the time, all the unlucky souls arrived by ship. Now that we are in the modern era, there were many more ships which fell in her hands...and then there were the submarines which disappeared in the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "Jackson," Nick Coleman argued back, "no submarine in the world will be able to break the defences of Forge MP-42. This is just ridiculous!"
  
  Perseus gave another mental command, and another photo taken by the Telekhine spies who had participated in the modernisation of the submarine base was released for the Suicide Squad's eyes.
  
  "Your doubts have been duly noted. Now let me present you the techno-magic-improved Typhoon-class submarine, formerly of the Soviet Union. I believe that when it was commissioned by the defunct superpower, its name was Red October."
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "Of course, when we 'liberate' it, my first action will be to paint a new name upon its hull."
  
  "Jackson..." Leo Valdez said weakly, "that's...that's a nuclear submarine..."
  
  "To be accurate, that's a nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine, or SLBM. With one of them, the Soviet Union could unleash the nuclear apocalypse. Now it is modernised by C.C, I can guarantee you that its firepower will in all likelihood have significant increased. The Telekhine spies have been unable to tell me how much, but it's at least by a factor of three."
  
  "And you intend to steal it." Lou Ellen accused, the daughter of Hecate rolling her eyes.
  
  "I intend to liberate it from vile capitalist-divine oppression," Perseus replied before chuckling. "Gods, I love saying that. It makes me sound so virtuous..."
  
  "Yes, yes," Ellen the Huntress interrupted him, ruining the fun, as befit of her patron. "You made your point clear, C.C won't fire at us with something like that. It is a...it is a super-weapon she built to threaten Olympus when her betrayal would be revealed to all. She won't use it against us."
  
  Perseus was tempted to point out that technically, Circe had never sworn anything to Zeus or Olympus, and thus couldn't be qualified to be of a traitor, but why let logic get in the way of a good conversation?
  
  "She might not use this particular super-weapon," Nick Coleman acidly spoke, "but I'm pretty sure there are others which will be ready to annihilate a small Quester force. You want us to attack that?"
  
  "You want us to attack Forge MP-42 and the Titaness without these weapons in support?" Perseus cheekily returned the favour. "I await eagerly the brilliant plan which will allow us to compensate for this slight firepower disadvantage."
  
  "Coleman spoke a bit too hastily," Richard Grant intervened, "but he still has a point. The spa, at first sight, looks like it is far less fortified and dangerous...but that's just an illusion to lure in an invading force. By the Pit, C.C is a Goddess of Magic, and if the myths and rumours are true, she transforms men into pigs."
  
  "Oh, no she has stopped doing that a while ago."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Absolutely! Now she transforms men into guinea pigs. It's far cuter, more economical in terms of space and budget, and the smell is far more tolerable, or so I suppose the reasoning went..."
  
  Miranda groaned loudly.
  
  "I might also add," Perseus continued innocently, "that according to some rumours, her Charmspeak and her powers are also so persuasive that all women who end up in her thrall soon obey her like she is their mother...and they end up joining her evil lesbian cult...no offense intended for the Huntresses."
  
  It said quite something that this time, the four servants of Artemis didn't seize their bows.
  
  "For once we will let it pass," Jenna growled, "we have...our own reasons to be less than fond of C.C and her cult."
  
  "Good to hear."
  
  "There is still a lot we don't know," Ethan pointed out. "And I have to mention that no matter how armoured the Inevitable Doom truly is, I really doubt the conventional and unconventional armour will stand up against the Eye of Helios...and even if that super-weapon malfunctions or misses, I guess this leaves all the other super-weapons we don't know about."
  
  "It's a good point, my treacherous lieutenant. That's why to convince you, I think a little visit of the secret docks is in order. And yes, Gallowborne, when I said 'I think', you might consider it an order!"
  
  18 December 2006, the Docks, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  The longer they spent in their presence, the easier it was to understand why Perseus Jackson had been eager to strike an alliance with the Honourable Family of the Telekhines.
  
  The shark-looking mafia was a bunch of monsters, literally and metaphorically, but you couldn't deny their skills when it came to everything involving weapon-making and shipbuilding.
  
  They had only arrived yesterday, but the Inevitable Doom was already in dry dock, and the minor repairs necessary after the storms they had endured on their return journey were already expedited.
  
  Of course, the repair phase was only the beginning. Now that it was dealt with, the Telekhines were working with some enchanted 'bubbles' under Lou Ellen and Bianca's direction, all the while the white hull of the super-yacht was progressively disappearing under some strange 'bricks' of black colour.
  
  The purpose of it could have been mysterious, but the Telekhines had prepared many, many schematics of what they were working upon, and while Miranda was a daughter of Demeter, she had enough knowledge to know the final goal.
  
  "Having the largest super-yacht wasn't enough, so you of course had to give it a 'submarine mode'."
  
  "I sense great disappointment in you," the son of Poseidon retorted with eyebrows raised.
  
  "This is your way to make sure we aren't hit by the superweapons of C.C? A submarine?" the daughter of Demeter wasn't going to bet her life on that working...and if it did, then surely said superweapons would be useless, because the Titaness of the Seas would be completely immune to them...
  
  "A super mega-yacht with significant submarine capabilities," the mad Demigod rectified with evident pleasure. "And of course, we will have with it two scout underwater drones built specifically to serve as our vanguard and rear-guard. Once we will be near the approaches of C.C's spa, they will reveal all their abilities in dismantling whatever traps wait for us."
  
  The daughter of Demeter had seen them, these drones. They had nothing to do with the aerial drones the son of Poseidon had used before. No, these drones were almost mini-submarines in their own right.
  
  "Initially, I wanted to buy some obsolete Kilo-class submarines," the leader of the Suicide Squad continued, "but the corrupt officers demanded a way too expensive price for these pieces of junk. Fortunately, the Telekhines are far more competent in this area and completed the drones in record time."
  
  This at least shook Miranda sufficiently to analyse the attack plan from the hints she had been given...
  
  "You think you can entirely bypass the super-laser of C.C and most of the long-range bombardment using submarines? This is...err..."
  
  "This is genius, yes, don't be afraid to say it. And by the way, the Inevitable Doom is going to be repainted white in a few hours."
  
  "It is stupid!" Miranda called out loud. "You were just telling us an hour ago C.C had an entire submarine base with a Typhoon and the Gods only know what else to begin a World War!"
  
  "Yes, but these submarines aren't usually on patrol."
  
  Perseus replied tranquilly.
  
  Miranda...stayed speechless.
  
  "What?"
  
  "I'm not going to debate all the superstitions and morale problems which made sure this situation developed, but submarine crews, until recently by the standards of submersible warfare, has been an affair of men. Women were not allowed to be aboard." Perseus Jackson explained. "And C.C and her followers hate men. Not to the same degree the Huntresses do, but enough to be on par with the Amazons. We might as well call it a matriarchy where women are ruling and the male population is close to slave status...or transformed into guinea pigs. As such, the only women who know how to operate a submarine have learned by their prisoner-slaves. There aren't that many in the first place, and they will necessarily have to transform back some men to their natural bodies to operate a few of them. C.C's submarines are a great weapon if they see the enemy coming many hours away. Everything is dependent on their mistress' magic giving them the warning in time to do any good. Now you can bow in awe before my genius."
  
  Miranda Gardiner didn't bow, of course. In fact, she scowled.
  
  "C.C is not an amateur. She will know there is something amiss."
  
  "She is one target of many," Perseus replied serenely, "and no, I don't intend to send her a letter proclaiming my eternal friendship before announcing she is the next to face the Suicide Squad. Furthermore, the scout drones are extremely stealthy. I estimate there is about eighty to ninety percent of chance we will manage to cut all the nets, deactivate the undersea alarms, kill of most the monster-sentinels and reach Point I."
  
  "Point I?"
  
  "Point Invasion, the coordinates where Operation Nautilus formally ends and the explosive fun can really begin."
  
  Why had she asked? There were some things you were better off not knowing...
  
  "Even if we neutralise the undersea obstacles and traps-"
  
  "When we will have neutralised them, when, oh doubtful lieutenant!"
  
  "If," Miranda repeated wit more strength, "the question of how we will reach the island is something you haven't answered so far. Water isn't my element...nor it is the one of most of the Suicide Squad."
  
  "But water is no problem for penguins!"
  
  Fear and doubt suddenly fought in her heart.
  
  "Please don't tell me the entire plan relies on this moronic penguin trio!"
  
  "No," Jackson admitted after several seconds, and with what it seemed was extreme reluctance. "They alone stand no chance against C.C's lieutenants, never mind the Immortal Sorceress herself."
  
  Miranda breathed out, both relieved and a bit anxious now.
  
  "Okay...now say the bad news, Jackson."
  
  "The bad news?"
  
  "You love your monologues and over-complicated explanations, but you don't begin with them unless there's something that is going to create a lot of problems. So yes...the bad news...please."
  
  The Earthshaker's son grinned.
  
  "They are really beginning to predict my moves...maybe I should step up my game?"
  
  The daughter of Demeter repressed a shudder of terror.
  
  "As you wish, my hesitant lieutenant. We will need to deploy near the entire order of battle of the Suicide Squad once we reach Point Invasion. Since I am the only one with the penguins who can breathe in an aquatic environment, I'm afraid that means diving suits for all of you."
  
  Diving suits...what did he...oh, no, no and no...
  
  "Fortunately, my sister was all too happy to provide these diving suits for a reasonable exchange of favours!" Perseus told her, the bastard relishing her fear. "They will allow of you to breathe while we're walking on the seabed, and they also will dispel the hundreds of enchantments C.C has no doubt soaked the approaches of her island with..."
  
  This wasn't the problem, and the two Demigods knew it. The X-Suits used for the adventure in this very forge had proven extremely valuable and capable of defeating the curses which would have transformed them into monsters if they had no protection to shield themselves.
  
  No, this wasn't the issue...and it didn't take an Oracle to see the storm coming on the horizon.
  
  "Do these...diving suits have a name?"
  
  "I called them S-Suits. Why?"
  
  "Is it too much to hope that the S-Suits are slightly less indecent compared to the X-Suits?"
  
  Perseus Jackson grinned again before bursting in laughter...and Miranda groaned again.
  
  18 December 2006, somewhere in the Forge of All Perils
  
  There was some minor consolation this time.
  
  Since they weren't about to jump into battle today - though with Jackson leading them, you couldn't guarantee it wasn't about to happen - they had been given the permission to try the 'S-Suit' in private.
  
  As a result, the realisation the diving suit was exactly as indecent as the X-Suit was done away from prying eyes.
  
  Although the son of Hercules had seriously to question how much modesty was left, when everyone had to wear swimsuit from dawn to dusk. Be it inside the Forge of All Perils, or during the battles, it was no exaggeration to say the Sea of Monsters was assaulting them with extreme tropical temperatures.
  
  They were Demigods, Demigoddesses, or Legacies, and as such adapted way faster than a non-Demigod, but it was still very exhausting. Save when the storm had struck and brought some fresh air, the air was humid and hellishly hot. It wasn't heroic, but most of the training and the activities had to stop regularly so they could drink and acclimate themselves to the climate of the Zone Mortalis.
  
  "How was it?" Dakota MacDonald asked five seconds after Richard left the changing room.
  
  "Like I had body paint on me instead of proper clothes," he replied drily.
  
  "So I wasn't imagining things," the son of Bacchus shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this..."
  
  "You have had bad feelings since this Quest began," Richard replied in an amused tone.
  
  "Was I wrong to do so?"
  
  With the benefit of hindsight...no, he wasn't.
  
  "It isn't like we have a lot of choices." Richard had had some time to think since they left the Grand Strategium, and unfortunately, he had arrived to the same conclusion Jackson had.
  
  "For the S-Suits or the goals of this Great Quest?"
  
  "Both, I suppose...but I was thinking about the former in priority. We put on the S-Suits for the next battle, or we better be ready for a new life of beautiful guinea pigs in the hands of a man-hating sorceress."
  
  "So you believe it."
  
  This time, it wasn't the son of Bacchus who spoke, but Nick Coleman.
  
  Richard was going to be honest...he didn't like the son of Quirinus. Now that his disease had been purged by the Golden Fleece, his fellow Roman Demigod was suddenly loud-mouthed and arrogant, despite having achieved exactly nothing of importance. For everyone sake, Richard really hoped this wasn't the prelude to another treachery...
  
  "Yes, I believe the S-Suits are vital to storm the defences of the next island, Coleman. We're going to face C.C this time, and Jackson was right the last time with the X-Suits."
  
  It really annoyed him when the son of Quirinus chuckled before repeating his words while parodying his voice.
  
  "Jackson was right the last time...I never thought I would see the great Richard Grant become the obedient dog of a Greek."
  
  "Why don't you return the S-Suit, if you're not convinced?" Dakota intervened. "I mean, surely a Demigod as gifted as you are will have no problem countering the curses of the sorceress. Hand me the S-Suit, I swear I will return it to Jackson and never give your name."
  
  They waited about thirty seconds...and evidently, Nick Coleman didn't make a step forwards to give back the S-Suit.
  
  And they all knew why.
  
  It was the same reason why the Huntresses had not protested this time before going to the changing rooms. When Kimiko had a long blue tongue and a blue tail, and Alexia had small horns and red talons, it was impossible to forget that without something like bathing in the Styx, a God-level enemy or a Goddess could transform you into an animal...and there was nothing you could do to stop your transformation.
  
  "He is plotting something treasonous...the S-Suits are part of his plan!"
  
  Dakota McDonald yawned.
  
  "If that was the case, Jackson would have painted them orange. He loves that colour...for a reason I can't fathom."
  
  "Maybe he was only given orange toys when he was a baby?" Richard suggested before dismissing the thought. "At least this time, the S-Suits are pure black, they have that in common with 'normal' diving suits at least."
  
  "Yes, they are only...tighter, and far more revealing."
  
  "You're making fun of my arguments." Nick Coleman didn't hiss, but he wasn't far from it.
  
  "No," Richard denied. "We're just telling you that out of everything you've shouted or barked in the last hour, there's not a single thing that convinces me you have a serious plan."
  
  "Because you are afraid?"
  
  Why, oh why, had he thought that surviving a fight with a gigantic Drakon would give him deity-level respect?
  
  "Because I might be only a mountain of muscles, according to some," Dakota's skin immediately turned an interesting shade of red, "but I can admit when there's something beyond my strength. The Drakon almost killed us. The Elder Giant should have killed us, if we had fought him. The Titaness will kill us if we fight her with the Questers we have. You and your new 'Gallowborne friends' can say whatever you want, but the problem remains the same. We have to free the Smith God. To free him, we must fight a Titaness. Jackson's plan is dangerous and indirect, but if we can indeed force C.C to give us her super-weapons, we may have a chance to successfully complete this Quest."
  
  "Or the son of Poseidon is going to kill us all," Nick replied bitterly, "after angering something that he couldn't handle."
  
  The son of Bacchus snorted.
  
  "There are very big words, coming from someone who still speaks with the Legionnaires...what are their names again? Scapegoat and Future Zombie, are they? Did they tell you their tales of triumph and how they were about to complete this Great Quest? I mean, they were prisoner at the gates of a Titan's jail, waiting for someone to rescue them..."
  
  "Jackson will pay for that. The Legions will judge him once this entire folly will be over."
  
  Richard did his best not to facepalm, but he wasn't sure how successfully he hid his expression of lassitude.
  
  "Coleman, we are Questers, not Legionnaires. No matter how many crimes we do, it is a Court assembled from all the Barracks which will judge Jackson...and I don't think it will ever come to that."
  
  "Why? Because you are now believing the lies he sprout?"
  
  "Because he would literally buy his way out of trouble, find a suitable...scapegoat for the entire trial, and likely spread discord across the audience so his enemies would end up in prison before the day was out."
  
  There was a moment of silence, and then Dakota nodded.
  
  "Yeah...yeah, that's exactly something Perseus Jackson would do. But Richard, please don't say that to his face. He might take it as a challenge..."
  
  "I'm not that stupid," the son of Hercules retorted. "Now let's get out of here, it's time to return to the Strategium. You know how much our mad leader believes in punctuality."
  
  18 December 2006, an office near the Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  To his surprise, Luke was the first to return. Neither Lou Ellen Blackstone nor Bianca di Angelo were in sight.
  
  It wasn't a huge surprise like it would have been before they departed to steal the Golden Fleece from Alcyoneus. Unlike this time, it was clear the son of Poseidon had completely recovered his strength...or at least was faking it convincingly so well no one could notice the difference.
  
  What was more out-of-the-norms for the leader of the Suicide Squad...Perseus Jackson was busy studying a pile of photos, all representing different views of C.C's spa from different angles.
  
  It didn't stop the younger boy from commenting upon his arrival in his irritating and mocking fashion.
  
  "I had a bet on you returning with the S-Suit on you, my heroic lieutenant."
  
  "No, thanks," the son of Hermes' shudder was not faked in the least.
  
  "Ah well...Annabeth is going to be so disappointed."
  
  "She's like a little sister to me, Jackson!"
  
  "And I will say that you didn't take her feelings into account...because a blind man would remark her feelings towards you have nothing sisterly. Unless we're speaking about Olympian sisterly, which naturally involves much-"
  
  "Stop." Luke commanded, and in an outlandish turn of events, Perseus Jackson stopped...this time. "Stop, you made your points...very clear. I will speak with Annabeth before we sail out for the next battle of this Quest. Satisfied?"
  
  "Completely satisfied," the son of Poseidon was literally eager to once again comment in depth on the matter, but Luke stared and kept an unflinching expression. At last, the younger Demigod relented and changed the topic of the conversation. "Now for the S-Suits...no problem with them?"
  
  "None that I did notice," Luke answered honestly. "We didn't watch each other's diving test for evident reason, but when I left, everyone who had gone through it was satisfied by the diving capability."
  
  "Good. I would have found it extremely frustrating to find an alternative to Operation Nautilus."
  
  "Err...right," the son of the God of Thieves cleared his throat, "so...the S-Suits work, and if you have anticipated the weaknesses of the Eye of Helios accurately, it will allow us to approach the island without being incinerated or torn to pieces by C.C's superweapons. At the same time, I suppose this will give us the opportunity to fire quite a few missiles at this spa..."
  
  The very grim expression Perseus Jackson returned him was absolutely not encouraging.
  
  "We can target the spa with the Inevitable Doom's weapons, right?"
  
  "Well, technically, we can," there was so much stress on the 'technically' it could have sank a continent by the weight of its irony, "but C.C's Spa and Resort is a true spa, not a fake establishment. There are quantities of female VIPs visiting it when they want to enjoy some massages, spend a luxurious holiday, or some other things. Blowing up the spa would be...ah...considered a quite hostile move, I think."
  
  Luke blinked.
  
  "When you say 'female VIPs'..."
  
  "Well, C.C didn't give me her list of clients, obviously, but some of the information I was able to obtain came from Rhode, my sister..."
  
  Oh, that wasn't good at all.
  
  "Goddesses VIPs," Luke breathed out.
  
  "And maybe worse," Perseus had decided not to be reassuring today. "C.C is not sworn to Olympus, which means naturally she is free to invite many parties of the Roman-Greek Pantheon that you would not find anywhere near New York."
  
  Correction: it was clearly very, very bad.
  
  "Best we avoid a...major diplomatic incident, then." Luke grimaced, before he thought of something else as he watched the photos dispersed upon Jackson's desk. "While you have been very dramatic about what we will face in the approaches of the island and outside the spa, you've been...unusually mysterious about the rest."
  
  "This is not me being mysterious."
  
  Luke didn't believe the protest, no matter how serious the voice.
  
  "This is me not knowing what we will find inside."
  
  Luke Castellan suddenly felt far more worried than he had been a few heartbeats before.
  
  "But...but got some information about the submarine secret base...and your sister's help..."
  
  "The so-called spa is C.C's domain, Luke." Perseus reminded him darkly. "You see an island. I see a gateway to the Domain of C.C. Yes, I know certain things from reliable and unreliable sources, plus the Telekhine contractors who worked there some months ago. Guess what they agree with? The infrastructure they each were given the pleasure to see are all way too big to hold in a small island like this one."
  
  "Okay, and what does it mean for the Great Quest and our goals?"
  
  "That there is certainly a far larger island hiding behind the gateway, and the superweapons we aim to generously borrow are going to be there, defended by very dangerous things."
  
  That was wonderful...oh, wait, it was anything but.
  
  "Your aerial drones can't help?"
  
  "They are shot down when they come too close to the inner defensive magical systems of the island." Perseus admitted. "I bought the good stuff, but C.C is a mistress of magic, and she must have taken advice from people aware of how lethal modern warfare can be. As such, while I have a good idea of what the outer defences are, the same can't be said about the real C.C's Spa and Resort."
  
  "Damn." A far unpleasant idea suddenly decided to cross the thief's mind. "Wait a minute. If you don't have any way of spying inside the spa, how by the Dark Pit do you know the Immortal Sorceress didn't receive massive reinforcements to defend her island?"
  
  "My heroic lieutenant," ah, the huge grin was back, "please don't be as narrow-minded as our Gallowborne mutineers, please."
  
  What a relief-
  
  "It is obvious C.C received reinforcements to help her defend her Spa-Domain. And I'm not counting the female Legionnaires she recruited and has likely brainwashed via various enchantments, all the while promising them a life of seduction and pleasure in every way which matters."
  
  "Oh," yeah, it was not the better retort he'd ever done...and yes, Luke was aware of how funny Jackson found it. "So I suppose the better question is how many reinforcements did C.C recruit just in case we would invade her island?"
  
  "That's indeed the good question, my heroic lieutenant." Perseus grinned. "And while I have a few guesses, without any aerial reconnaissance to confirm them, I'm afraid I'm as much in the dark as you are..."
  
  18 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort, C.C's Domain, Sea of Monsters
  
  Long ago, Hylla had watched a small group of Amazons visit New Constantinople for a short-term mercenary contract, and she remembered not having been impressed.
  
  After all, who would be amazed when the girls were all clad in some sort of neo-Spartan armour which protected nothing of importance, and when you had the Legions to compare next to them?
  
  Now that she was older, however, Hylla had to admit the Amazons had sprung nicely their illusion of weakness that day.
  
  The neo-Spartan Armour...or 'Amazon Armour', to give it justice, looked like something a hoplite of the ancient eras would be armoured with...at first sight.
  
  In reality, though, the Amazon warriors had all a bronze-coloured bodysuit underneath, which was their first true armoured layer. Assuredly it was extremely tight and revealing, but it protected you from a multitude of lethal blows, and ensured a remarkable amount of protection.
  
  All of this guaranteed the average Amazon was extremely agile and able to exploit her mastery of weapons, of which they carried plenty.
  
  For while the 'hoplite armament' seemed to be nothing more than spear, sword, and arrow, in reality the spear could transform itself into a machine gun, and the arrows often had a grenade launcher mode. As for the swords, they were of Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold, and could shift into other modes too, most of them promising very painful deaths for the enemies who would face them.
  
  Last but not least, the 'Amazon Armour', including the helmet, the shield, and the greaves among many other things, were incredibly light-weighted. Thus even once an Amazon female warrior was fully equipped and ready for war, she was in reality as agile and fast as someone who would be in T-Shirt and other civilian clothes.
  
  Hylla Ramirez-Arellano had been very hesitant to trust the Goddess when they were told to leave the great defensive strategy to the Amazons. But she had been wrong, and Lady Circe was right. The Amazons were an extremely potent force.
  
  Maybe the only potent force capable of achieving what the Triumvirate and the monsters of the Zone Mortalis had utterly failed to do so far.
  
  "You seem very silent suddenly, Lady Hylla."
  
  "My apologies, Tagmatarkhis Kinzie...I'm afraid I was lost in my thoughts..."
  
  "No offense was taken," the dark-haired Amazon commanding the force on the island, "I understand you didn't have the privilege to see us train seriously before today."
  
  "I didn't, and now I am a bit...envious. You brought quite an arsenal with you...and more Amazons than I'd ever seen in a single place."
  
  "The Goddess paid for a double battalion," the athletic young woman shrugged. "We provided a double battalion, nine hundred and fifty Hoplites and officers in total. Usually, it should have been a Syntagmatarkhis in command, but there were none available on such short notice. As such, I received a temporary battle-promotion for this contract."
  
  "Knowing a bit about the sheer scale of logistics for a Legion to operate in campaign," Hylla noted with a polite smile, "I think it was a bit more complicated than that. This part of the Pacific is hardly next door when it comes to the West Coast."
  
  Kinzie chuckled.
  
  "Indeed...Hylla. But in several millennia of existence, we have become quite proficient when it comes to logistics...and war."
  
  "Logistics, I understand, but the company business of Amazon is hardly a war company."
  
  "Ah, the naivety of youth..." Kinzie gave her a carnivorous smile. "Everything is a war, Hylla. There are the wars everyone think about, with swords, rifles, blood and corpses, but this is just one aspect of it."
  
  That...that made far too much sense, now that the explanation had been given.
  
  "You are waging an economic war on every continent."
  
  "Trade is the lifeblood of republics and empires alike." Kinzie was the very definition of smugness. "And we Amazons have made sure to dominate this new field before everyone else save perhaps the God of Thieves knew there was a battle raging on."
  
  There was something which resonated deeply in her heart with these words.
  
  And because it did, Hylla Ramirez-Arellano carefully replayed all the conversations she'd ever had with the Tagmatarkhis.
  
  "You're not here just because the Goddess paid you a large sum of money, nor because the spa is a sanctuary and a recruitment centre for female Demigods and Legacies. You're here because a certain child of the Seas somehow discovered all your plans and could ruin everything if he spills every secret of the Amazons he knows."
  
  "Yes," Kinzie grimaced. "That's why the Queen, using her Polemarch authority, authorised this urgent deployment to the Sea of Monsters. The dangers are too great when it comes to this son of the Earthshaker. Given how much he is escalating...the Amazons have to deal with him...I have my orders."
  
  And Hylla had a suspicion some of them may not be totally compatible with the ones every servant of Circe had received lately...but one challenge after the other.
  
  "We saw the rampages of his latest...escalations." Hylla searched for her words several times until finding what she felt was as accurate as possible. "This is not going to be easy."
  
  "It won't." The Amazon veteran conceded. "That's why I hope why all the drones and other spying methods used by the enemy were neutralised while we unloaded our arsenal. It is a certainty Perseus Jackson is going to have a lot of evil surprises for us. Well, I have many for him too."
  
  The side which had the biggest number of surprises and which improvised the quickest was likely going to end victorious in this battle...
  
  "You don't have any doubt the Suicide Squad will come, then?"
  
  "None," Kinzie replied, "the only question is when, not if."
  
  Then the Amazon lowered considerably her voice.
  
  "And I must say your sister and yourself impressed me a lot today, Hylla. Please think about my offer...I would be delighted to call you sisters, Reyna and you."
  
  "I..." Hylla swallowed nervously. "I will...think about it."
  
  18 December 2006, the Orrery, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  The room was not an Orrery, though Perseus understood why the Telekhines had given it that name. The old star maps, the globes supposed to represent someone's idealised representation of Earth, as well as the presence of a large hole allowing someone to watch the stars with astronomical instruments, certainly pointed to a certain direction.
  
  But it was not an Orrery. It was a temple...however, it was not one dedicated to a God in particular. You could call it an 'invitation room'.
  
  To be honest, the former Tyrant had cursed profusely when he had visited it the first time. With a bit more funds assigned to exploration purposes, there would have been no need to invite Persephone anywhere near his Grand Strategium.
  
  Ah, well. What was done was done, and it wasn't like he could go back in time to correct it. And there had been no bad consequences from this decision made in ignorance. And ultimately, there was a proverb that said you learned more from failure than you did from victory...
  
  "I am not humble, nor really a servant," the son of Poseidon murmured. "But I beseech you, Lord of the Underworld, for there have been unforeseen developments we need to speak about."
  
  A crystal of onyx was sent straight into the pyre, and for a few seconds, the Demigod could do nothing but cough...the smoke created by the 'sacrifice' was just too painful for his throat and lungs.
  
  It quickly dissipated...leaving a dark figure on a throne of darkness...and Perseus was certain the throne had not been there before.
  
  He curtsied and waited.
  
  "The Earth Mother...an interesting choice when it comes to conspiracies and godhood changes."
  
  "She wasn't my choice, Lord."
  
  "I know," Hades replied. "If it was deliberate, I would not have questioned your sanity nor allowed any apologies to reach my ears, nephew. I would have promptly killed you, and urged Olympus to act. The Earth is mostly asleep these days, and the majority of the immortals want this status quo to continue for millennia."
  
  "The majority of the immortals, alas, did not include your...your self-proclaimed Bane."
  
  "Clearly not," the avatar Hades used tonight changed sufficiently to betray a grin. "He is quite lucky to have been extinguished to the point his soul-essence is beyond my wrath. I had in mind quite a few excruciating tortures by the time the battle ended. But this is not what we must speak about."
  
  "The Earth or the two Goddesses?"
  
  "Since there isn't anything at all we can do currently for the former save pray she will not have her sleep troubled anymore, this is the latter we must speak about."
  
  "I would argue there isn't a lot we can do either on that front, Lord Uncle...unless I have misread omens too badly, their transitions will likely end on the Winter Solstice, two days and a few hours from now."
  
  "Yes. The Hell Eggs will break, and I will certainly have to fight the battle of a lifetime."
  
  The Lord of the Underworld was completely right about that. If Gaea had not intervened, Khione and Persephone would most likely have acknowledged his supremacy on the spot. Not only the two female immortals would have lacked the raw power to mount a credible challenge, despite the power boost he had engineered, but the motivation would have been an obstacle too.
  
  But now that Gaea had been able to change Persephone and Khione...well, there went every certainty and assurance Hades had ever had.
  
  The concern on his face must have been a bit too evident, because the Lord of Hell made a sound akin to a chuckle.
  
  "I can win, nephew. In many ways, this will be a...welcome relief, from all my bureaucratic duties. But I am not going to pretend it will be easy. I have a lot of battle-experience, and my skills are quite proficient when it comes to deal with recalcitrant Titans, Giants, and Gods. Alas, once the Eggs hatch, I have no doubt my meddlesome grandmother will have made each of them my equals when it comes to power...and of course those who are reborn by her will gain superior regeneration in their Domains."
  
  "I...see. I suppose this is an indirect warning to not expect any form of help during and after the Winter Solstice."
  
  "Not until their two Champions join your Quest again, no," the Lord of the Underworld confirmed. "The daughter of Aphrodite and the former Huntress returning to the realm of the living will be your clue that the battle is over...one way or another. You will have to face the Immortal Sorceress on your own."
  
  The green-eyed Demigod knew better than to think Hades had guessed in an attempt to surprise him. Evidently, there were still some spies around...that or Bianca had informed him.
  
  "Yes." For once, he wasn't going to waste his saliva on a denial. "Is it going to be a problem?"
  
  "Not for me," Hades remarked with a hint of humour, "but it might be for you. Giving your yacht submarine capabilities and approaching C.C's spa underwater is indeed going to neutralise the fire of Helios' old weapon before it fires a single shot. But the Winter Solstice is beloved of sorceresses and all magical practitioners for a reason, nephew. You are going to fight a Goddess of Magic in her lair, and at a moment where her powers will be at her apex."
  
  "One might say it is an audacious approach, Lord Uncle."
  
  "One might say that," the oldest brother of the seven founding Olympians agreed with a smile. "Of course audacity tends to be considered foolishness when it blows up in its architect's face."
  
  "But when it works, the visionary mind is often praised as a genius." Perseus smirked. "And I note that so far, all the letters I sent before sailing for the Golden Fleece were ignored."
  
  "C.C answers on average a letter of mine every century. Don't waste the years you have waiting for an answer."
  
  "What a pity."
  
  "She is a full-fledged Goddess, nephew, and while she tends to behave arrogantly in public, I can assure you her sorcery skills are indeed a match for her ego. And at the risk of repeating my warnings, C.C is waiting for you inside her Domain, and the massive resources she had accumulated for centuries in the Sea of Monsters. She saw what you did to the Drakon and the Giant. You can't count on her underestimating you."
  
  On this point, Hades was in all likelihood totally accurate. The opposition, be it C.C or the Triumvirate, were going to assume he had the firepower to be an equal to a member of the Olympian Council when it came to turning around the outcome of a battle.
  
  In many ways, the fact he had played an insignificant part in the battle near the Dark Parthenon may have generated more problems than it was intended to solve.
  
  "I will leave tomorrow nonetheless," the son of Poseidon declared. "We need some training to test the Inevitable Doom and the scout drones, but once all the lights will be to the green and the Telekhine shipbuilders are satisfied, we leave to challenge the Immortal Sorceress."
  
  Perseus grinned again.
  
  "We're both going to be very, very busy in the coming days, Lord Uncle."
  
  "Yes," Hades watched him with amusement. "Planning how to win victory against insurmountable odds is indeed going to take all of our time."
  
  Perseus narrowed his eyes and hesitated.
  
  On the one hand, no matter the outcome of the battle for the Underworld, the Suicide Squad would see Drew and Jade return to reinforce their ranks.
  
  On the other hand, there was no denying that it would be far, far better for his long-term plans to have Hades ruling the Underworld. Not to mention there was a risk neither Khione nor Persephone would be mentally stable if they managed to defeat him and take the throne for themselves...
  
  "Yes, nephew? Something you want to add?"
  
  Well, it was just advice, in the end...it was up to his 'immortal uncle' to follow it or not.
  
  "Long ago, in a land of treachery, demons and nightmares, there was a ruler who survived three abdications and massive defeats. No matter whose identity he was born with, no one remembered, for by the time the first coronation happened, historians and chroniclers would call him Irritant. And atop the Tower which he climbed so often, he uttered words that would haunt heroes and villains for eternity."
  
  It was a philosophy that, to be fair, he had progressively abandoned in the last months. But at the enemies gathered and surrounded the Suicide Squad, it may prove once again the solution to all his problems.
  
  "And so Dread Emperor Irritant boasted to them words which would live in infamy. 'But being defeated was always part of my plan! Yet another glorious victory for the Empire!'"
  
  There were things which changed when you began another life. But there were other things which didn't. It was still hilarious as hell when an enemy realised you had played them every step of the way...
  
  19 December 2006, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  The moment she woke up, Lou Ellen felt something was wrong.
  
  It was not accompanied by screams and monumental explosions.
  
  It was not a spell striking out of nowhere.
  
  It was...it just was.
  
  How did you explain something that you knew intimately?
  
  It was both in the air and the earth, and everything the Telekhines did in the Forge of All Perils had nothing to do with the wrongness.
  
  It was slow, it was ponderous, but the daughter of Hecate knew that it was coming.
  
  After a light breakfast, the sorceress went to find Perseus.
  
  She found him at the top of the mountain, sitting on a large rock his Hydrokinesis had sculpted in a parody of throne, and his spyglass was on his lap.
  
  "You felt it too."
  
  It was not a question.
  
  "Yes. What it is?"
  
  "You know the expression 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'?" Lou Ellen nodded. "Well, it's exactly what is about to happen."
  
  "Ah. But you mentioned the Winter Solstice...we're still near two days away, no?"
  
  "We are."
  
  And yet they could feel the first quakes of this explosive cataclysm coming.
  
  "By my mother's magic, this is going to be..." the blonde Demigoddess was unable to find the words to describe what was going to happen.
  
  "It is going to have interesting complications, to be sure." The voice was calm, serene, but there was no smile on Perseus' face.
  
  "Olympus is not going to be amused." And that was a generous understatement...no, it was a colossal understatement.
  
  Seriously, Demeter already wanted to kill most of the Suicide Squad, and Artemis wasn't far behind her.
  
  "Bianca will be here soon. Out all of the officers, there is no question she will feel it too."
  
  "Perseus, don't change the subject of the conversation, please."
  
  The son of Poseidon at last chuckled...but there was almost no positive emotion behind it.
  
  "Sorry. Olympus is going to be furious, of course. By the Solstice, they will know the Lord of Hell and I lied to their faces. The fact we didn't get away with it for very long will not exactly be a mitigating factor, I think."
  
  "Thus the need to sail for battle as soon as possible."
  
  "Thus the need to reach C.C's Spa and Resort as fast as discretion and the laws of this Zone Mortalis allow us to, yes. Fortunately, the Inevitable Doom is out of the dry dock and ready, and we have tested the Suicidal Insanity and the Special Spa Operation scout drones."
  
  Lou Ellen was a mature Demigoddess...as such she just slapped the son of Poseidon as a punishment for the ridiculous names.
  
  "You realise that at the infernal pace you're escalating, they will never let us leave the Zone Mortalis alive."
  
  And the daughter of Hecate didn't bother specifying who the 'they' were, thank you very much.
  
  "I'm aware of this, yes."
  
  Yes, of course he was. For all his flaws, Perseus wasn't someone who failed to anticipate the ironic, cataclysmic, and destructive consequences of his own actions.
  
  It was just that most of the cases, these consequences were exactly why he committed his outrageous deeds in the first place.
  
  "What is the plan this time?"
  
  "The plan is to survive and steal one specific super-weapon." He answered.
  
  "The Typhoon-class submarine?"
  
  "No. Oh, it would be useful, and I will definitely let Luke steal it if we have the opportunity. No, I am after something far more dangerous, and that C.C will be far more reluctant to hand me."
  
  "And you intend to do this...exactly how, pray tell? In case you have forgotten, C.C is a Goddess."
  
  "I didn't forget...and as for the how, it's very simple, Lou Ellen. I intend to give her the victory she desires with all her heart...and no, it doesn't involve having you serving as Apprentice...that would be a nice bonus for the Immortal Sorceress, of course."
  
  "You have me, very, very confused, Perseus." And the daughter of Hecate glared, making it clear the explanations had better be good.
  
  "Don't worry, it isn't going to last. The succession of operations I have prepared is simply glorious."
  
  Author's note: Our good friend the 'heroic' Perseus Jackson is not really good at the de-escalation thing, it must be said. Though to be fair, the world around him isn't exactly trying to decrease the tensions...the madness is really contagious.
  
  The Battle of the Winter Solstice approaches, and there are going to be more massive upheavals and epic clashes to decide the fate of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen:
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper, Chuck, plus twelve other Legionnaire mutineers
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber: now transformed into a golden penguin
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and swore herself to Khione
  
  Drew Tanaka - daughter of Aphrodite: became a living weapon, and the new Champion of Persephone
  
  Gallowborne 'Division':
  
  17 ex-Legionnaires, condemned to be thrown in the most dangerous situations for their attempted mutiny; their names are now forsaken, and they are now known as 'Future Zombie', 'Cannon-Fodder', 'Scapegoat', 'Dead Legionnaire Walking', etc...
  
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  Gallowborne
  Chapter 23
  
  Gallowborne
  
  Operation Nautilus' true goals were not that complicated to understand. The principle behind it was relatively simple too. As Jackson himself said, it is difficult to fear the Master Bolt if you're already on fire.
  
  Obviously, it would have been far better for our collective sanity if a certain infuriating son of Poseidon had told everyone the truth about what really happened when the Giant died, instead of waiting for a few days down the line.
  
  But alas, with the benefit of hindsight, I don't think it mattered that much in the end.
  
  When everyone wants to send you to the gallows, the cold comfort you can take is that they can only hang you once when you're alive.
  
  This promise evidently doesn't apply to what will happen when we will be dead and facing our Judges. After what happened, we're sure to spend some time in the Fields of Punishment, unless Hell needs some professional demolishers. I can definitely vouch that the Suicide Squad is overqualified in that domain.
  
  Anyway, the sensation of victory did not survive for long after the victory of Pear Island and the recovery of the Golden Fleece.
  
  As many of our unfortunate members would quickly discover, the Golden Fleece is indeed an incredible healing artefact. But it can't heal the dead. You still need some breath of life in your body, otherwise the whole process is useless. Death is final, unless you're a monster...but then the Golden Fleece doesn't work on you.
  
  Gods, these days were just a chaotic mess.
  
  Unlike what happened in the last battle to recover the healing artefact, here it is easy to say the plan didn't last long after making contact with the enemy.
  
  These were the last hours before the Dark Solstice. And once again, the Suicide Squad was going to enter History with a big 'H' by doing things no one had ever dared to attempt...ever.
  
  Extract from the Chapter 5 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2 by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  20 December 2006, Super-Mega Armoured Yacht Inevitable Doom, somewhere in the Sea of Monsters
  
  The ritual, in all honesty, looked like one of the most ridiculously-looking she'd seen in the last years, and given that she travelled with someone loving orange paint, Bianca knew it was quite a feat.
  
  Making a military dance in a circle of blue shells, incanting a frenetic song while throwing quantities of salt all around, before offering gold just dragged from the watery depths of the Sea of Monsters to the Gods...it was a purification ritual, all right.
  
  But there were far simpler and less ridiculous ones available.
  
  "Was it necessary?" the daughter of Hades asked. "Besides, I was under the impression you wanted to make the girl a Berserker."
  
  "If she wanted that," the son of Poseidon next to her retorted, "she would have needed to eat a Lycanthrope's heart with vinegar before bathing in their blood."
  
  "Now I know you're joking."
  
  "The part with vinegar, yes," Perseus Jackson reluctantly admitted. "But I wasn't making fun of anyone when I spoke the part about eating the heart, no."
  
  True, there was no smile on his face...
  
  "Well, if not a Berserker, what do you want to push her to do?"
  
  "Now, your Most Dreadful Majesty, I will have you know no amount of pushing, physical or mental, was involved, it's just-"
  
  "Your tongue is definitely the most dangerous part of your body, even when you don't use Charmspeak," Bianca interrupted before it could transform into a monologue.
  
  "Boring," the green-eyed Demigod yawned. "Try harder."
  
  "We just sacrificed most of the gold you dragged from the watery depths, you know."
  
  "We will find other resources. If I did try to recover everything from that galleon wreck today, it was to make sure all of our debts were paid before the Solstice."
  
  "Including the rum bottles?"
  
  In case anyone asked: the amount of gold they had found was very small, barely a little chest, and with a lot of empty space within. The numbers of rum bottles, however, numbered in the high thousands.
  
  "Especially the rum bottles," Perseus Jackson smirked. "I had begun to send some before we started this Quest, but this offering will definitely pay back everything I owed for using the Trident for a few minutes. Plus there are always big parties in the Atlantis Palaces when a Solstice takes place. Centuries-old rum bottles are collector items. My name will be on everyone's lips."
  
  Bianca could have replied his name must already be on everyone's lips, given the affair with Chrysaor and him slaying a Drakon. But it was also true delivering rum bottles to the Lord of the Sea's capital would make Perseus a very important subject of conversation, and in very complimentary tones.
  
  What was the saying this world had, that it was better to be loved than be feared? There was a proverb which was sounding like that, anyway.
  
  "And you drink little alcohol, thus sending them cost you very little." The former Dread Empress noted. "May I say I find very ironic that of all vices you chose, drinking is not among them?"
  
  "I never drank much, Bianca." The green eyes were...thoughtful. "In my first life, I saw what it did to my genitor, and I resolved that while I was going to be a villain, I wouldn't be a drunken one. I needed a clear mind, if I wanted to engineer a myriad of overcomplicated plans. So far, one and a half life later, I have seen nothing to change my mind."
  
  This was...an interesting stance to be sure. And for once, the daughter of Hades didn't doubt it was the truth. Oh, Perseus' lips had touched alcohol, both before this Quest and during it. But most of the time it had been to please Dionysus, God of Wine, not because he wanted to sink into alcoholic delights. Annabeth Chase had also whispered sometimes that it was for the son of the Earthshaker a way for him to build himself an alcoholic immunity when adding some enchantments and curious artefacts, and she might very well be right.
  
  "Well," Perseus turned his head back in Clarisse's direction. "The ritual is over. Now we can properly begin Operation Nautilus. Please gather the Suicide Squad, we're going to attack."
  
  "Already?" Bianca shook her head. "I thought we had agreed to attack C.C's spa after sunset, so that the Inevitable Doom could arrive without being detected!"
  
  "Yes, that part of the plan hasn't changed. But we are going to attack somewhere else first."
  
  "Jackson," the Demigoddess growled. "This is just madness! Do you think our enemies are going to form a line in front of the gallows?"
  
  "To answer your questions, yes and yes!" the leader of the Suicide Squad cackled, and the sea suddenly seemed far more tormented and violent than it had been seconds ago. "One must never forget that inevitable doom is a very finite resource. When split between multiple opponents, it becomes mere doom! Onwards, Suicide Squad! We sail for a glorious battle!"
  
  Bianca sighed internally...why, oh why, had she thought it was a good idea to steal the Master Bolt and become the Lightning Thief?
  
  20 December 2006, the beaches of Bayou Island, Sea of Monsters
  
  Octavian had been partly wrong. Blackbeard had not just come to this god-forsaken island just to recruit monsters.
  
  The son of Ares had also come because he wanted ammunition.
  
  And of course, it wasn't the bloodthirsty monsters which had been ordered to transport the barrels filled with gunpowder...
  
  It was long. It was exhausting. It was dangerous, for after the bloodbath, the surviving monsters were still not satiated by the horrible feasting.
  
  If Blackbeard was not here, the Legacy of Apollo was certain the Empousai and all the other predators would have already attacked and torn them to pieces.
  
  And finally, after many more barrels and caskets, after impotently watching as thousands of pistols and rifles were delivered in other hands than his, it was over.
  
  The chains were tied to the collar around his neck, and soon there would be more near his arms and legs to make sure they were more defenceless than ever. They were going to be dragged into the dark hull of the Queen Anne's Revenge and be allowed to rest for a bit. And maybe, just maybe, they would not be followed there by the predatory eyes of the-
  
  "Guys, does the sea not look strange to you? It seems-"
  
  An enormous explosion of water shook the warship, and Octavian gaped in sheer stupefaction.
  
  It came out of nowhere.
  
  It was...it was...
  
  It was a gigantic yacht of white colour.
  
  And on its prow, a mad Demigod that Octavian instantly recognised was agitating his tricorn.
  
  "REMEMBER THIS DAY, CORSAIRS AND BUCANEERS! REMEMBER THIS DAY FOR YOU HAVE FINALLY MET YOUR MASTER! I AM PERSEUS JACKSON! I AM THE KING OF THE PIRATES!"
  
  An enormous wave rose, and the two ships further away from the bay, both commanded by Captains who had recently rallied Blackbeard, were literally drowned in an instant.
  
  Then an enormous turret chose to reveal itself behind a hidden panel of the yacht, and three missiles were launched. The Triumph of Panama, an old frigate which had seen better days since it left the service of the Viceroyalty of the Indies, took the brunt of the assault.
  
  One missile would have been, for such a target, just overkill.
  
  Two would have been butchery.
  
  Three was just bloodthirsty madness.
  
  One by one, the modern weapons detonated, and they devastated their target...and then the gunpowder magazine was hit.
  
  In less time than it took to say it, the Triumph of Panama exploded like a volcano, taking in death with it all its crew, be it monsters, pirates, or slaves.
  
  "To your guns, boys! To your guns!" Blackbeard shouted, suddenly rushing out of his cabin. "Sink me that bastard before-"
  
  "SMASH!"
  
  Octavian outright panicked as he saw what was coming. He felt what was coming.
  
  The sea and the earth shook. The very world was shaken. Gigantic waves rose. On the beach not far way, enormous fissures opened. Two ships in the bay capsized.
  
  "NO!" Blackbeard snarled...and as the human-shaped monster did it, he struck back.
  
  The waves and something metallic collided, and the shockwaves were countered by blows which reeked of blood and death.
  
  This was...this was just...ungodly.
  
  The sea was in fury. The island was erupting in smoke and dust.
  
  The power and the things growling...everything was doomed. They were so going to die. It wasn't just possible for them to be mortal, the sky was almost cut in two-
  
  And then it was over.
  
  The son of Poseidon saluted with his orange tricorn, and the white yacht plunged back into the depths of the Sea of Monsters, leaving ruin and desolation behind.
  
  Some galleons and other pirate ships fired, but it was too late...everything had happened too quickly.
  
  Over a kilometre away, the Triumph of Panama finished burning...and the first two ships to be attacked were properly sinking too, with most of their hulls already swallowed by the Sea of Monsters. Inside Bayou Island's bay itself, many ships had capsized or were heavily damaged.
  
  And then Blackbeard laughed.
  
  It wasn't a fake sound imitating it, it was genuine laughing.
  
  It was a sound of evil, and Octavian could almost see swords of utter darkness grinding together, biding their time before being unleashed.
  
  It was monstrous. It was the voice of someone who had proclaimed himself the enemy of the world, and would keep sailing towards the Pit of Tartarus no matter who stood in his way.
  
  "Consider your challenge accepted, Perseus Jackson!" Blackbeard laughed again. "Lafitte! It sounds like we are going to be a bit too busy salvaging what we can from this ambush! Who is the closest 'ally' we have close?"
  
  "Cavendish, Captain! Do I tell him to pursue?"
  
  "I think he won't need the encouragement, no? Freedom and a life of untold riches await him! That is, if he is able to catch the son of Poseidon, ha!"
  
  And Blackbeard laughed again, totally uncaring of the spectacle of destruction surrounding them...
  
  Madness.
  
  Octavian was sure of it now, they were all utterly crazy.
  
  20 December 2006, not far from C.C's Spa and Resort, somewhere under the surface of the Sea of Monsters
  
  Perseus did not sigh in relief, but he wasn't that far from it when Leo Valdez spoke again after stopping manipulating the console.
  
  "I've opened a gap big enough for the Inevitable Doom."
  
  "Good, amigo," the son of Poseidon replied in a whisper. "The kraken automatons?"
  
  "Neutralised with the corrosion darts."
  
  "The torpedo launchers?"
  
  "Inactive."
  
  "The pocket submarine?"
  
  "Neutralised without sounding the alarm."
  
  Most of it, Perseus already knew, but it paid to check one by one, when each of these points could sound the alert and trigger a military response that would in all likelihood force them to flee far away from C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  "Very good, amigo, you can go inform the others it is time to don their S-Suits, if they haven't already done so." Obviously, Perseus had already done so; it was just good sense when you were underwater to have protective equipment which would allow you to swim outside the Inevitable Doom if something bad happened. But Leo and many other members of the Suicide Squad hadn't. Whether it was because they didn't want to wear the S-Suits or they had hoped this part of the mission wouldn't be necessary was one of these questions the former Tyrant hadn't had time to ask. "And the command applies to you too, my drone-expert lieutenant."
  
  The son of Hephaestus groaned, placed a hand in his hirsute hair, but walked away to obey his order.
  
  "He is fire." Lou Ellen grinned with her arms crossed. "And your reward is to send him into a lot of water."
  
  "That's indeed a poor reward," Perseus replied while taking the seat in front of the auxiliary manoeuvre console. "But there isn't much of a choice. I won't resurface the Inevitable Doom anywhere near the Spa. The Eye of Helios would destroy us in mere seconds. I would prefer to avoid that."
  
  "I would prefer to avoid that too," the daughter of Hecate answered. "What's the plan now?"
  
  "The plan is to advance very, very slowly until we're in position to launch our diving attack," and when his fingers were on the control levers of the console, his caution reflected this. The gap was not very large, but even if it had been, there had been too many mines and other traps for him to rush headlong into the waters immediately surrounding the Immortal Sorceress' island.
  
  "We're not going to have much time before the pirate fleet comes calling."
  
  "I've not forgotten them, Lou Ellen."
  
  "I certainly hope not, given that this was your idea to humiliate them in the first place and give your location to every hunter ever paid by the Triumvirate."
  
  Perseus snorted.
  
  "The purpose was not humiliation, oh my sorceress lieutenant. The first goal was to make sure Blackbeard won't be a factor for the next forty-eight hours. The second goal was indeed to have a pirate squadron or more pursuing us."
  
  The Inevitable Doom left the sea mines behind it, and Perseus slowed down his ship even more, while multiple small drones were deployed for detection while the two bigger ones moved as his vanguard.
  
  "We're still not going to have much time left."
  
  "I know," he murmured, "but C.C really created a large defensive system underwater. It was twenty percent more massive than my worst prediction. Since we had to break through it to have a chance...all right, I think we've advanced far enough."
  
  Perseus turned around...to see that the daughter of Hecate had removed all the clothes she had donned over the S-Suit. Naturally, the effect was...spectacular. When she moved, Lou Ellen very much looked like a natural predator...
  
  The kiss was passionate, powerful, and Perseus certainly didn't try to avoid it. If there was one thing he regretted having missed in his previous life, this was certainly it-
  
  "Ahem," quickly, the embrace and the kiss stopped.
  
  "My heroic lieutenant, your timing is not impeccable," Perseus complained before returning to the console.
  
  "I see that," Luke Castellan commented in a sarcastic tone. "But the others are coming, and they didn't get in the Suicide Squad to see that. Leo told us we were close?"
  
  "We are indeed close." Perseus confirmed, as Lou Ellen still judged good to place her hands upon his shoulders. "About one kilometre from the beach, a bit more from the submarine base entrance...one kilometre and three hundred metres, I would say. Coming closer would increase the risks to the Inevitable Doom in an unacceptable manner, no matter how little moonlight there is tonight."
  
  Light footsteps were heard, and one by one, the Suicide Squad answered the call and entered the auxiliary command room. Small amount of satisfaction, this time everyone had donned the S-Suits, even the Huntresses. They glared at him of course, but that was incredibly predictable.
  
  "For those who weren't listening last time or missed the last brainstorming," Perseus tried to keep his voice barely above a whisper in power, "I intend to deploy the entire Suicide Squad minus three members. Ethan, since you are the one who will pilot the Inevitable Doom in my absence and make it sail through the minefield so that when C.C's servants search for our ship in the lagoon, they will find nothing. Clarisse, I know you are ready for a fight, but you just made an important ritual this afternoon; the Immortal Sorceress would turn it against you faster than I can say 'Agent Orange'. And Antigone...well, C.C has enough grudges against you to make your death after an eternity of torture a priority, derailing potential negotiations."
  
  "Jackson," Michael Yew began hesitantly.
  
  "Yes, my bard lieutenant?"
  
  "We're attacking C.C's Spa and Resort. This is not conduction negotiations."
  
  "Of course, these are negotiations," the son of Poseidon replied with a charming smile. At least, he hoped it would pass as a charming smile. "Military negotiations, to be exact. We're going to steal all the super-weapons we can, and make sure C.C accepts it officially."
  
  Yes, many members of the Suicide Squad groaned after that. How did you guess?
  
  "And how do you intend to do that?"
  
  There was a small musical ping, and Perseus returned to watching the screens, hoping it didn't mean another complication.
  
  Unfortunately, it was one, and not a small obstacle.
  
  "We have a problem."
  
  "I hate those words," Ethan came forwards to stand on his right. "What sort of problem?"
  
  It took twenty seconds to be sure, but when the drones confirmed, his previous words were, if anything, an understatement.
  
  "Argus A-7000 detection and engagement system, along with an energy shield," Perseus spoke while raising his eyebrows, very impressed.
  
  "What does it do?" Annabeth asked.
  
  "The better question would be to ask what it doesn't do," the son of Poseidon replied darkly. "Think of a hyper-sophisticated divine radar, with none of the usual mortal weaknesses, save the fact it doesn't work well underwater. Quite ironically, we passed under the outermost layer of the shields without being aware of its existence. If the Eye of Helios is the 'sword' of C.C's defensive system, then the A-7000 will be the brain and the eyes."
  
  Worse of all, this kind of divine techno-magic could be deployed by very few factions, and most of them would never let an Immortal Sorceress borrow it for twenty-four hours, never mind buy one. That left the unpleasant and very real possibility a battalion of Amazons was there.
  
  "What does it mean for the plan, Jackson?" Grant asked.
  
  "It means we have to improvise, of course. The A-7000 generator and the brain of the system, for lack of a better word, need to be neutralised before we attack the spa."
  
  On this point, Perseus was completely honest. If he tried the double assault the original plan was going to call for, the A-7000 would know in mere minutes the strength of each group, the exact path they would take, and probably more information than the Suicide Squad knew about themselves. Interception would be a guarantee; failure of Operation Nautilus would have odds above ninety-nine percent.
  
  "The Immortal Sorceress would have placed it inside the spa, if she isn't stupid."
  
  "She isn't stupid, but an A-7000 generates a lot of interferences and magical disturbances the VIPs of C.C's Spa have no wish to be on the receiving end of...ah, here it is. It appears C.C built a bunker there, surrounded by this group of trees. I think with the correct amount of explosives, the problem can be dealt with."
  
  "And the bad news?"
  
  The bad news was that it was certainly a trap, and the Amazons, if they were present on the island, would likely wait for whoever was audacious enough to go after their near-infallible system of detection and surveillance.
  
  "The bad news is that there is the beach on the way, and while I am sure the diving-ejection systems can get you most of the way to the A-7000 bunker for the first phase, you will have to cross back the entire length of the beach to join the attack on the spa."
  
  It was, of course, likely what the Amazons wanted them to, in the very unlikely case they managed to break through the outer layer including minefields, sea automatons, or on the surface the Eye of Helios.
  
  "And who..." Miranda cleared her throat. "Who is going to volunteer for such a suicide mission?"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, please," Perseus grinned. "While volunteers are of course accepted, this mission is exactly why I kept the Gallowborne alive until today."
  
  20 December 2006, the beach of C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  Nick Coleman couldn't help it, he gloated when the fin of the penguin pushed the last button and the supposedly 'flawless' device switched out.
  
  "So much for the suicide mission," he chuckled to the Legionnaires, and many of them laughed.
  
  "Be quiet," Elvis Knight hissed. "Sound is carrying far away on this beach and-"
  
  "Centurion Knight," the son of Quirinus said with unhidden relish, "I respect you for volunteering for this apparent dangerous duty, but I am in charge now."
  
  "This wasn't what the Boss said," one of the penguins of course had to open his beak.
  
  Many swords were unsheathed, and the beak closed.
  
  "Seriously, the time to be afraid of our shadows is gone." Nick Coleman told his group. "We pick the weapon containers at the edge of the beach, and then we go for the super-weapons."
  
  "Jackson told us to-"
  
  "Jackson isn't the boss here anymore, I am!" Nick exclaimed, annoyed. "And if you open your mouth again, Knight, you're going to have problems. All the Legionnaires here are with me. Isn't that right, guys?"
  
  "Ave, Centurion Coleman!"
  
  Twenty proud sons of New Constantinople replied instantly. These were the seventeen 'Gallowborne' and the three which hadn't had time to declare their true allegiance before the mutiny.
  
  Facing this opposition, Knight and the trio of penguins had no choice but to obey.
  
  Soon, everyone was running towards the weapon containers washed away by the shore.
  
  And what beautiful surprises awaited them! There were grenades, rifles, a large quantity of anti-tank RPG-7 rockets, or some variation of it engineered by the Telekhines! This was a true arsenal waiting for worthy hands.
  
  Everything was calm. C.C's Spa and Resort was the only major source of light in the distance, and everything was peaceful, devoid of patrols. They had had zero trouble disarming and pulverising the few automatons which patrolled at this late hour. The beach was serene and half of it had dozens of beach umbrellas, great colourful lounge chairs, as well as surfboards and other indispensable sea and beach tools. There were no weapon turrets, no minefields, nor any defences of any kind. Clearly, Jackson had massively overestimated the resistance they would find. It was not surprising, of course. The information of the sea of Poseidon delivered in the last days had sucked, big time.
  
  And speaking of the madman...the communication device in his ear activated.
  
  "In the name of this idiot Giant we just got rid of, what the hell do you think you're doing, Coleman?"
  
  "Ah, Jackson! I have to say your plan sucked, so I changed it."
  
  And Nick had to admit, saying it out loud felt good. No, more than that, it felt very good.
  
  He could almost listen to the son of Poseidon grumbling and mumbling curses.
  
  "There's a reason why I didn't place you in charge of this group."
  
  "Well, I am in charge now." The son of Quirinus said. "Deal with it."
  
  "I'm busy dealing with it, yes." Seriously, he could already imagine the scowl on Jackson's face. "I have changed my plan to account for the annihilation of your entire force."
  
  What?
  
  "What?" He managed to utter.
  
  "While you were busy self-congratulating your arrogant heads, a battalion of Amazons took position north of where you were. If you had obeyed my command, there would have been a fire-fight where you would have been able to use the trees as cover before dispersing in the mini-jungle. But since you were stupid enough to return to the beach, the Amazon in charge let you march back while she rallied more of her forces. Now she has you dead to rights, no matter how many heavy weapons you took from my containers."
  
  "You're lying!"
  
  It couldn't be true. It couldn't be true!
  
  Yes, they hadn't a lot of night vision equipment, but surely they would have noticed if a group of Amazon scouts was present in the vicinity.
  
  "I'm not."
  
  "Oh, come on, he's lying," another Legionnaire behind Nick said, making him realise their conversation had been listened to by everyone who had a communication device in his force. "There's no way-"
  
  One searchlight was switched on, directly towards them.
  
  Then another illuminated the beach. A second later, there was a third.
  
  Flash after flash, there were dozens of searchlights pointed at them, and the darkness swallowing the beach, revealing how hideously vulnerable the Legionnaire force was.
  
  Behind the trees, Nick couldn't see clearly, but there had to be hundreds of shadows. And some of them weren't of individuals, but were looking like big guns.
  
  An improvised magical wall was summoned into existence several hundred metres away, digging an improvised fortification into the pale yellow sand.
  
  "DROP YOUR WEAPONS, SUICIDE SQUAD! THIS IS AMAZON GARRISON COMMAND SPEAKING! YOU ARE SURROUNDED AND FACING OVERWHELMING MILITARY FORCE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS IMMEDIATELY!"
  
  Nick hesitated, then shook his head. They had just lost, but he wasn't going to die for the ego of Perseus Jackson. Besides, he knew a lot of the Suicide Squad's workings, so he could sell a lot of information! And the Legionnaires were with him. The 'Gallowborne' had no intention to die for the crazy Demigod who had threatened to crucify them. And-
  
  "Rico. There will be no surrender. The Gallowborne will fight their way through the Amazons, or die trying. Am I clear?"
  
  "Perfectly clear, Boss!" Rico Kowalski laughed like a maniac, and before anyone could stop him, fired an anti-tank rocket in the direction of the Amazons. "KABOOM INCOMING!"
  
  KABOOM!
  
  The explosion was significant, and several armoured shadows were thrown away by the blast.
  
  "FIRE AT WILL!"
  
  "TAKE COVER!"
  
  And in three seconds, the beach of C.C's Spa and Resort turned into the antechamber of Hell itself.
  
  20 December 2006, Super-mega Armoured Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  The moment the searchlights were switched on, Luke froze in shock.
  
  Five seconds later, the son of Hermes heard Perseus' order to Rico Kowalski, and his expression turned into horror.
  
  "By the Gods, you can't sacrifice all of them! There are-"
  
  "Twenty-one Legionnaires, seventeen of them Gallowborne, my new treacherous lieutenant Nick Coleman, and a comical trio of penguins," it said quite something that Perseus Jackson's voice was one of exhaustion, and his expression was akin to a block of marble. "They are facing what looks to be a five hundred-strong battalion of elite Amazons. They will make a splendid diversion."
  
  And then they will die, Luke heard the words despite their leader not uttering them.
  
  "There is not a second to waste. Annabeth Chase, you're taking tactical command of the assault against the submarine base. Asterius, Michael, Leo, Luke and all the Huntresses will go with you. The rest of you, follow me."
  
  "For the love of Olympus, Jackson," Luke insisted, "fire at least some missiles in support! You can't let them butchered by-"
  
  "I can't, Luke," and this time, Perseus seemed genuinely grim. "The Amazons have anti-ship missiles, and the Inevitable Doom is way too close to the beach. If I fire, I signal our ship's position, and we will likely lose everything. Ethan, get our ship out of there when we will have used the diving ejection system."
  
  "I hear and I obey," the son of Nemesis seemed to be as displeased as the son of Poseidon, to be fair. "This is going to get ugly."
  
  "Understatement of the night," Perseus Jackson snorted. "All drones are to go into kamikaze mode. What are you waiting for? HURRY RAIDING FORCE!"
  
  Luke grimaced, but did as he was commanded...
  
  "And if any of you want to survive this beautiful and fiery night, stop believing you know better than me and change the plan at the worst possible moment!"
  
  20 December 2006, the Hell Beach, C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  The first long-distance bombardment of the Amazons involved mortar shells, missiles, and magically-propelled grenades.
  
  The entire beach disintegrated into bloody chaos.
  
  There were explosions everywhere.
  
  There was so much sand around that visibility decreased until they couldn't really see what was in front of them.
  
  The penguins fired nonetheless.
  
  Rico Kowalski had released his RPG-7 with another rocket, while Fergus Cook had somehow been able to carry an enormous rotator gun that was almost the size of its golden penguin body. As for Julian Skipper, he was an adherent of the grenade launcher club.
  
  Together the penguins threw an impressive amount of explosions.
  
  "KABOOM! HA! HA! HA!"
  
  Then the missiles hit, and the laughter abruptly ended.
  
  The penguins took cover, like everyone else...or at least they tried to.
  
  A beach was really, really a horrible defensive position.
  
  "We have to attack!" Jim shouted, Gladius in one hand, rectangular shield in the other. "We have to retake the initiative! With me!"
  
  He hadn't made five steps that shells and bullets struck his shield, and for all the resistance of a protection of New Constantinople, it wasn't that resistant. Elvis counted five explosions before the shield broke.
  
  "ATTACK! WE MUST-"
  
  There was another explosion, and then a rain of blood. Whatever had got Jim, it had struck him directly in the head and in the chest.
  
  His lifeless body collapsed, painting the sands red.
  
  And the battle escalated, turning into a world of shrapnel, tainted sand, and worse.
  
  More explosions shook everything, throwing one rifle directly in front of him. Not bothering asking where this strike of good luck had come, Elvis raised it, aimed, and fired. In the distance, a shadow fell, and in answer there was a monumental amount of bullets sent his way.
  
  The former Centurion sprinted and went to take cover behind a miniature dune combined with the wrecks of several beach things, most of them looking quite burnt right now. As far as defensive protection existed, it was horrible, but it was better than nothing!
  
  "WE MUST RETURN TO THE WOODS!" Nick Coleman screamed, as one more missile struck, and this time, it had hit dead-on target. Two Legionnaires were pulverised by this violent bombardment.
  
  "ARE YOU CRAZY?" It was more than four hundred metres of beach, with little cover, and the Amazons free to decimate them every step of the way!
  
  "WITH ME! WE RETURN TO THE WOODS!"
  
  Unfortunately for the son of Quirinus, this was the moment the female warriors sent orb-shaped levitating objects over the battlefield. Based on what Jackson had done in the last battles, they were certainly drones.
  
  Nick Coleman and four Legionnaires had barely the time to run twenty metres when each of them were under merciless fire, and then a goddamn laser got through his skull.
  
  The Gallowborne who had chosen to accompany the bastard screamed and tried to return fire, all the while taking cover again.
  
  They didn't make it.
  
  "KABOOM! HA!"
  
  "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
  
  All into his bloodlust and eagerness to trigger more explosions, Rico the maniac penguin had not noticed some drones were not made for surveillance. They carried large nets, some shrouded in maleficent energies.
  
  Fergus Cook and Julian Skipper reacted fast enough to avoid the trap falling from the skies. Rico didn't, and like the penguin he was, was rapidly disarmed. Seconds later, the net closed in, and Rico was taken away by another drone like he was an exotic aerial piece of luggage.
  
  "PENGUIN IN DISTRESS!"
  
  And always came more bullets, more grenades, and more explosive ammunition.
  
  "Jackson! Get us out of here!" Elvis heard one of the Gallowborne screaming.
  
  "Shut up, you are making it easier for them to find us!"
  
  "I don't care! I have not signed for that! I want to go back home!"
  
  The Gallowborne Legionnaire, his identity difficult to establish given that he was crawling in the sand and his voice was filled with terror. He stopped crouching and hiding, and stood on shaky legs, before trying to run towards the sea.
  
  He managed to reach the water. And then the same infernal laser which had killed Coleman sent him straight to the Underworld, leaving a big nasty and bloody hole in his back.
  
  "I AM INVINCIBLE!" Fergus Cook roared over all the explosions and the mayhem. "THAT'S HOW JACKSON IS DOING IT, NO? I AM A GOLDEN PENGUIN! I AM INVINCIBLE! CHARGE!"
  
  Elvis was so speechless he hadn't had the time to even think this was not how things worked in the real world.
  
  To his credit, the penguin-transformed Demigod made it far farther than everyone, including Coleman, had achieved.
  
  Fergus managed to grab a malfunctioning drone, use it as a sort of acrobatic support, and then launch himself towards the Amazon ranks. All with just fins and pure dumb luck.
  
  But everything had its end.
  
  In a corona of blue lights, the Amazons unsheathed over fifty spears sparkling with powerful energies.
  
  Fergus' charge had been insane, and he had zero support from the Legionnaires.
  
  "I WILL NOT DIE A PENGUIN! I AM INVINCIBLE!"
  
  In a couple of seconds, the golden penguin was impaled by so many spears you couldn't count them.
  
  And then he fell.
  
  "The battle is lost! Flee, you fools!"
  
  In a battle like this, screaming this was a guarantee to demoralise your own side, and today was no exception. That another Gallowborne died within thirty seconds did not help, of course.
  
  But the worst part was that it was completely true.
  
  Their ammunition levels, which had looked so stupendous when they pilfered the weapons from the containers, had been consumed in minutes.
  
  The Legionnaires were falling one by one, not listening to a single order he gave.
  
  And ultimately, Julian Skipper, extraordinary Emperor Penguin, was captured exactly like Rico had been.
  
  "SECOND PENGUIN IN DISTRESS! HELP ME!"
  
  The bombardment continued. There were only...there were three of them left now.
  
  Centurion Elvis Knight prayed for a miracle.
  
  Then darkness and pain engulfed him.
  
  It was atrocious dolorous, monsters screamed at him in his nightmares.
  
  And then something big hit him.
  
  The former Centurion screamed loudly.
  
  "You see, Laura? This one is still alive!"
  
  "Yes, it seems you're right. We take him prisoner?"
  
  "We'd better. For the moment, aside from the two murderous mascots, we got a bunch of corpses for this bloody skirmish."
  
  Murderous mascots? They thought the penguins were mascots? Elvis laughed...or at least tried to, just trying to exhale and speak made him cough up blood.
  
  Oh, Jackson was going to love that.
  
  As the world stopped spinning and his vision grew clearer, Elvis was at last able to see there were several blades very close to his throat.
  
  "Surrender?" a hoplite-armoured woman spoke, her bloodthirsty expression making clear the offer wouldn't be repeated again.
  
  "I...yes. Yes, I, Centurion Elvis Knight, surrender." Whatever Jackson had hoped to achieve, the battle was over now. "The other Legionnaires..."
  
  "They're all dead." The Amazon gave him a respectful nod. "I have to say, Centurion Knight, your men deserved their reputation. They really died like madmen...like a Suicide Squad."
  
  Elvis Knight groaned pitifully. Jackson was going to love that. And most certainly, be even more insufferable than he already was when launching Operation Nautilus!
  
  20 December 2006, C.C's Submarine's Base
  
  The explosive drones had made an impressive opening in the gates of the submarine base, and entering was child's play, with the S-Suits making sure they were akin to fishes in their natural element.
  
  Annabeth didn't have the mental fortitude to rejoice at the moment. Not when she knew so many people were dying for a diversion. Mutineers they may be, but the daughter of Athena was not so fixed on global strategy she could admire the cold-hearted stratagem.
  
  Coleman and all his band of sycophants were dying right now, and worse, she knew intimately Jackson knew he was sending them to their deaths the moment the A-7000's existence was revealed to him.
  
  Suicide Squad indeed...
  
  No, it was better to think of something else, something Annabeth could deal with...the mission.
  
  They swam until they saw light, then used a space next to a large submarine to leave the water.
  
  Only when she was completely out of the water did Annabeth order the hood and the underwater breathing system to be removed. The S-Suit was like an exotic swimsuit again. It was a swimsuit which had allowed them to enter the Immortal Sorceress' submarine base without being transformed into something animalistic.
  
  "Well," Michael Yew gave her a roguish smirk, and making several steps of the way to let Kimiko and Ellen follow them onto the pier. "I have to say, it was quite a submarine experience. And we managed to get in without being noticed, which is-"
  
  Annabeth froze.
  
  Everyone froze.
  
  And Michael's smile vanished, and he turned to see the same thing they did.
  
  There was an Amazon standing ten metres behind them, and though the black-clad girl looked as surprised as they were...well, she was an Amazon.
  
  "INTRUDERS! MILITARY ALERT, CODE DESTROYER!"
  
  Luke reacted the fastest of them, and knocked her out in two blows.
  
  Unfortunately, it was too late.
  
  Strident alarms shrieked everywhere, and a lot of red lights began to flicker in and out everywhere in the gigantic submarine base.
  
  Annabeth began to spring towards the exit, the tunnel leading out the undersea cavern and into the spa, but it was futile.
  
  It was five hundred metres away...and the blast doors had already begun to close everywhere before she began to run.
  
  "You won't go anywhere, intruders."
  
  And of course, there was a second Amazon, looking at her like she was a judicious prey.
  
  Annabeth drew a dagger.
  
  "I could kill you," the daughter of Athena growled.
  
  "You could," the black-haired girl agreed, "but don't think it will give you anything but a fleeting moment of satisfaction. I don't have the codes to open the doors, and I'm not armed. I'm just a contractor who was paid to see how much it would take to refurbish some of these submarines."
  
  As tempting as it was to ignore it, the blonde Demigoddess had to acknowledge the woman wearing a black bodysuit espousing her curves was likely saying the truth. Of course, being an Amazon, she was not without weapons, and Luke immediately disarmed her, taking one sword and two daggers for himself.
  
  But the file in her hands was all about the study of the diesel-fuelled submarine next to them.
  
  "If you can return to your ship, I advise you do," the Amazon warrior continued calmly, ignoring the arrows the Huntresses were ready to skewer her with.
  
  "Not without the Red October," Leo smiled. "I always wanted my own submarine."
  
  The black-clad woman scoffed.
  
  "Please, son of Hephaestus. The command centre to open the undersea doors is not here. I heard the explosion, and you are here, so I guess you made your own entrance, but I seriously doubt it is big enough to let this gigantic Typhoon-class submarine escape."
  
  Heads turned towards the juggernaut once built in the shipyards of the Soviet Union. It was indeed something gigantic, a leviathan of metal sleeping before it was called to launch the Apocalypse.
  
  Unfortunately, the Amazon was right. The drone attack had created a gap from which four Demigods could use together, but it wasn't big enough for a small ship to go through that, never mind one of the biggest submarines ever built by human shipbuilders.
  
  "And if we threaten to execute you and your friend?" Alexia the Huntress had now this evil expression on her face that everyone had come to hate in the Suicide Squad. "You are our prisoners, Amazon, don't forget that!"
  
  "How could I forget, Huntress?" the venom was evident, which made the smile all the more surprising. "But I think you have far more urgent things to be worried about."
  
  There was a thunderous sound, and the ceiling opened for a brief instant...letting something huge fall and slam onto a pier about fifty metres away.
  
  Then the thing rose.
  
  It was an automaton, about four metres tall. It looked vaguely humanoid, though it had little in common with beings of flesh and blood. It looked like an antique knightly armour of pale silver, yet it gave off a terribly sinister vibe.
  
  And Annabeth knew what it was.
  
  "Destroyer...you have a Destroyer?"
  
  "Oh, so your mother told you of their existence?" the Amazon seemed pleased.
  
  "Err..." Leo Valdez had begun to sweat, betraying his nervousness. "What is this...Destroyer?"
  
  "It's one of the most recent automaton weapons Olympus intends to build in mass numbers to protect Olympus key fortresses, vaults, and temples." The blonde Demigoddess explained. "It was a collaboration effort between some Cyclops Clans, the God of Forges, the God of the Sun, and my mother."
  
  And quite evidently, now with Hephaestus a prisoner, the enemy side had access to these extremely advanced weapons.
  
  "Why my father?" Michael asked.
  
  The Destroyer answered the question on its own.
  
  Suddenly, the 'head' of the automaton was lit on fire.
  
  "EVADE!"
  
  A death ray hit where they had stood mere seconds ago. It was as if the sun had decided to burn them in a tight beam.
  
  Where there had been the pier's stone, there was now a small crater.
  
  "DISPERSE!" Annabeth shouted. "DON'T GIVE HIM A SINGLE TARGET!"
  
  "Understood!" A Huntress answered. "Where is the weak point of that thing?"
  
  "I don't think it has one!" She retorted as the Destroyer went on the move, and tried to incinerate a Huntress, who luckily for her largely avoided the attack.
  
  "Okay...then WE ROCK!" Michael Yew had his guitar in his hands, and suddenly, the violent atmosphere changed, as extremely powerful music engulfed them. "WE ROCK! I ROCK! YEEEAAAAHHHH!"
  
  The sonic blast was extremely powerful, and the Destroyer received it head-on.
  
  It stopped advancing towards them, and began to falter.
  
  "HIT IT! HIT WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE!"
  
  "TAKE THAT!"
  
  Leo Valdez's hands burned, and two columns of flame went to strike the silver colossus.
  
  Annabeth obeyed her own command and threw several grenades. Luke went to pour anti-tank rounds into it.
  
  And the Huntresses went to war.
  
  "BY THE WILL OF LADY ARTEMIS, YOU ARE TO BE ANNIHILATED!"
  
  Four arrows burned in silver fire, and they all struck the section where the fire attack and the sonic blasts had carved open the strange silvery metal.
  
  Dust and explosion darkened everything. About half of the lights of the submarine base flickered out, leaving them bathing in a reddish glow...
  
  "Let's hope, Jenna, we won't have to do it too many times tonight. It's really exhausting, even with her blessings..."
  
  "Yeah, and we don't have that many arrows able to withstand the power-"
  
  The dusts and the explosions cleared...and every Demigod, Demigoddess and Huntress froze.
  
  "Oh, that's just...unfair..." Michael Yew noted weakly.
  
  The Destroyer was standing up again.
  
  It was once more preparing to battle them. And the part of the 'chest' where they had hurt it was already half-repaired.
  
  "Living metal," Annabeth murmured to herself. "We need to inflict it such blows the capacity of self-regeneration fails!"
  
  "And..." the son of Hephaestus was in full-blown panic mode now. "How are we supposed to do that?"
  
  To be honest, the daughter of Athena hadn't the faintest idea.
  
  "RUN!"
  
  A new ray of destruction burst into existence, and the members of the Suicide Squad began to fight so that they could live a few more minutes.
  
  20 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  Infiltrating the spa had been rather easy, though their group had to do it individually rather than together.
  
  That was very much good news for Lou Ellen, and bad news for the two other groups of the Suicide Squad. The blonde Demigoddess had seen hundreds of Amazons in hoplite armours rushing towards the beach and to lifts which certainly led to the submarine base.
  
  Jackson, unfortunately, had been right once again. If this island was less defended compared to the God of the Forges' prison, then they had absolutely no chance against the Titaness. And it was far better to engineer a 'defeat' there.
  
  Lou Ellen shook her head, and slowly, she placed a step past the magical threshold separating the two parts of the Spa, the one every mortal would be able to see, and the rest reserved to the divine side.
  
  Immediately, it was...it was as if an ocean of Mist washed over her.
  
  But it wasn't the Mist, or to be more accurate, it wasn't just the Mist.
  
  It was magic too.
  
  And when the Demigoddess opened her eyes, paradise greeted her.
  
  It was soon to be midnight, so there weren't a lot of people to be seen, but the vegetation and the decor seemed divinely perfect. There were pools and cascades which seemed more real than everything she'd seen. Of course, Lou Ellen had kind of expected it since it was a spa, but not to this degree.
  
  It was as if the very island had been transformed to merge exotic plants and water, and recreate something that was both relaxation park, a succession of swimming pools and a space dedicated to health regeneration and other things.
  
  Everything breathed out serenity, calm, and peace, from the soft bird songs to the gentle swashing of the waves. And the magic-
  
  Lou Ellen had to murmur an incantation to clear her thought.
  
  Yes, it was paradise in the form of a jungle-exotic spa. And she had no doubt the Mist and the sorcery enchantments deliberately amplified it.
  
  Circe had built a place you would never want to leave if you didn't stay on your guard. No doubt the 'divine VIPs' spent a lot of their resources there. Well, the female ones did, since men were not exactly welcome.
  
  "Super-weapons, super-weapons...if I was my half-sister, where I would keep my super-weapons?"
  
  Naturally, there was the obvious. At the centre of this small Domain, there was a lighthouse of golden marble, and at its top, burned golden sparks which reminded her of the Sun.
  
  But Lou Ellen was not stupid enough to believe she could steal the Eye of Helios on her own. In fact, a good part of the lighthouse had to be filled with the machinery the super-laser required to fire.
  
  It was better to find something more portable.
  
  The sorceress of the Suicide Squad examined several times the white houses - small palaces, really - before noticing one was really far more enchanted than the others. The Mist was swirling around it, providing over twenty illusions every time you blinked.
  
  Yes, it was definitely a place important for the island's mistress. The runes and the enchantment burning on the walls and the approaches were evidence enough of that. Yet there was a small bridge one could use to reach it, and it lead directly to the door. Maybe Circe didn't fear anyone arriving that far, or that the Mist would hide it sufficiently?
  
  Not seeing anything worth her time elsewhere, Lou Ellen decided she might as well try. The bridge did not collapse or the pool underneath had any Demigod-eating predators. The door was unlocked with an advanced spell and-
  
  The sorceress couldn't believe her eyes the moment her eyes fell into the heavily protected palace.
  
  "Enter Lou, we have much to speak about."
  
  "Yes, yes we do...mother."
  
  It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't an enchantment to trick her eyes.
  
  This palace...this relaxation home...was really where Titaness Hecate, Mistress of Mist and Magic awaited her.
  
  "How?" the young Demigoddess asked as she took the chair her mother indicated her, trying not to moan as the object felt like felicity itself.
  
  "How?" her mother repeated amused.
  
  "You couldn't know we were coming tonight." The blonde sorceress said, utterly convinced of this fact.
  
  "Lou Ellen, I know what is going to happen tomorrow in the Underworld." The Titaness of Magic's appearance changed, taking the aspect of a beautiful blonde woman who looked like her only a decade older. And her clothes were limited to a variant of a S-Suit, but in a flamboyant red colour. "Unlike the narrow-minded fools of Olympus, I frequently visit the Underworld. I spoke with the Lord of Hell. And since I did, I can hazard a guess Perseus Jackson would want to protect those Demigoddesses and Demigods he cared about, even if he likely won't admit it to them."
  
  Since Perseus had more or less hinted something like that during their conversations, Lou Ellen wasn't surprised by that. She was far more surprised, to be honest, by the fact her mother had predicted correctly the next Suicide Squad's moves.
  
  "I suppose there aren't that many islands which are completely out of the reach of...of the Master of Olympus, if things turn really bad."
  
  There was Forge MP-42 and the secret Triumvirate Base, yes, but to go there, they would likely have to swear allegiance of Thethys or the Mark Antony-Cleopatra duo, and hoped the Titaness or the Roman-Egyptian rulers would accept it.
  
  "There are not." Her mother confirmed.
  
  For what felt like an eternity, no one spoke.
  
  There were only the bird singing, the waters swashing, the enchantments playing siren-like voices of temptation...and light footsteps...the lieutenants of Circe taking position near the bridge.
  
  Lou Ellen raised an eyebrow.
  
  "No, I didn't need to summon them. Your half-sister knew of your presence the moment you passed the threshold. You are really powerful now, and I am proud of the efforts you made these last months."
  
  "Thank you, mother...though evidently, not powerful enough to know when I am spied upon."
  
  "Circe had a few millennia to discover, transcend, and perfect the talents I gave her at birth", Hecate dismissed the point as it was of no consequence. "You are young. You will learn."
  
  It was really flattering...and a bit prompt to give anyone anxious emotions, given how stern a teacher he mother could be when she wanted.
  
  There was one more issue, however. One which was far more important than the 'how'?
  
  "Why?"
  
  "Assuming your group of chaos-spreading 'Heroes' is still able to continue its Great Quest after the next forty-eight hours are over, I will create a magical simulacrum, copying your memories and imitating your magical abilities. Assuming the Suicide Squad is successful and is granted the permission to leave the Zone Mortalis without being bombarded by lightning bolts, it will replace you while you will return here for your training."
  
  "I could-"
  
  "Lou Ellen."
  
  The eyes of her mother swirled with incredibly powerful magic, and she had to look away, lest she be hypnotised or worse by them.
  
  "Your boyfriend is getting more and more powerful." The blonde Demigoddess tried to keep an innocent expression, but the Titaness of Magic hadn't finished speaking. "If you want to stay by his side as an equal, you must improve your sorcery might and your skills as fast as he does. Perseus Jackson might not wish you to be injured, but this world is dangerous. If you lack the strength, you end up like these foolish Legionnaires the Amazons are busy toying with on the beach."
  
  "I...I understand."
  
  "Good. Now we are going to speak of spells I have noted that would have been deadly useful to you in the battles you were most recently involved..."
  
  Midnight approached, and Lou Ellen tried to concentrate on her mother's words as best she could, knowing that it was certainly going to be a matter of life-and-death one day. She wished she could go help the others, but it wasn't an option anymore. The members of the Suicide Squad were going to have to survive on their own.
  
  20 December 2006, C.C's Submarine's Base
  
  He was just supposed to be a bard, damn it!
  
  As the thought arrived, Michael gritted his teeth and stopped it.
  
  Yes, Jackson had told him he would be a bard and a healer. And the enemy they were facing absolutely didn't care.
  
  "I AM ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL!" The son of Apollo sang and played as fast as he could his guitar, and was 'rewarded' by an extremely powerful sonic attack.
  
  Michael was more or less certain it would have managed to hurt seriously the Minotaur. But it did nothing to the Destroyer.
  
  And speaking of the Minotaur, the bull-headed monster had been the last to arrive inside the submarine base, but he was now trying decapitation strikes with its gigantic axe.
  
  Alas, Michael's own attack did barely force the Destroyer to take two steps back, while at the same time the silver automaton parried effortlessly the axe of Jackson's 'eternal friend'.
  
  "We're inflicting it less and less damage, Luke!" Michael managed not to scream or show his dismay.
  
  "Thank you, I had noticed!" The son of Hermes replied with an ugly grimace. "Continue to play, we are going to take the fight at close-quarters!"
  
  "ARE YOU CRAZY?"
  
  There was a loud sound, and suddenly, there was a Minotaur flying in their direction. Fortunately, they all managed to avoid it. Asterius fell into the waters near the submarine with a colossal splash.
  
  "Now that I think about it," Luke announced in a far more hesitant tone, "let's not go fight this thing at close-quarters!"
  
  "You think?"
  
  "I've yet to hear a good plan from you, oh bard!"
  
  "I'm playing my guitar, barbarian! Do you want to take my role?"
  
  "Annabeth!" Luke Castellan fired a few more bullets against the enemy before throwing his rifle away in frustration. The projectiles hadn't even managed to pierce the cuirass of the Destroyer. "Please tell me you have a plan!"
  
  "We simply don't have the ammunition!" The daughter of Athena was slightly bleeding on her left arm, but her grey eyes were determined, not filled with panic. "If we could return to the Inevitable Doom and take some nasty explosives-"
  
  "Don't even think about it," Ellen the Huntress resurfaced from the water and jumped on the pier. It said quite something that the servant of Artemis didn't care about how it exposes her curves covered by the S-Suit. "They brought giant moray eels to make any retreat impossible. There are at least a dozen waiting outside, as far as I could see."
  
  "So it's the Destroyer or the moray eels," Luke said.
  
  A death ray almost incinerated the Minotaur, who had charged again.
  
  "We can breathe underwater with the S-Suits." Michael said grimly. "And I'm pretty sure we can kill the moray eels too."
  
  "No," Kimiko the Huntress drawled with her long blue tongue, "you might get away with a retreat, but I'm pretty sure Jackson won't tolerate it from us. We have to vanquish the Destroyer. Daughter of Athena!"
  
  "Yes?" Annabeth was as surprised as they to hear her advice was wanted.
  
  "No matter how fast this 'living metal' can regenerate from the strikes we inflict it, there must be something inside the Destroyer to power it."
  
  The Huntress had to speak louder and louder as they all tried to avoid the death rays of their enemy.
  
  "The God of the Forges is a master, but he can't power something with nothing. What did he use?"
  
  "As far as I can explain it...a miniature sun?" Oh, God, don't tell him... "Better known as a mini-fusion reactor, of course."
  
  "The Gods built an automaton with a fusion reactor?" Luke was aghast, and the son of Apollo shared his astonishment. "Are you kidding me?"
  
  It did explain the death rays, though. And why his father would have worked with Athena and Hephaestus to build the Destroyer. The Sun was Apollo's Domain, and no one else.
  
  "No."
  
  "What does it mean?" Leo Valdez stopped running momentarily. Something that spelled trouble, the young boy was sweating and looking about to collapse in exhaustion. Due to his engineer duties, he hadn't been suffered like they did during the preparatory physical training of hell at New Byzantium.
  
  "That means," Luke spoke coldly, "that if Annabeth is right, this thing will never tire, never relent, as long as the sun inside its armour burn."
  
  "What do we do?" Alexia the Huntress asked.
  
  "We attack," was the depressing answer. "We attack, and we tear it apart, try to pierce this silver metal enough to cripple the mechanisms controlling the sun inside."
  
  "CHARGE!"
  
  They screamed and they went on the attack.
  
  It was just madness. They were all going to die. He was just a bard.
  
  These were the thoughts which went through his head, and then the formidable clash happened.
  
  Asterius the Minotaur was the first to fly again, but he had managed to deliver a heavy blow with his axe this time. This was a wound which was exploited by the arrow of the Huntresses before three of them threw themselves inside the water to avoid the death rays.
  
  Michael did it closer than they...and then the gigantic fist of silver hit his guitar...and it was his turn to fly. By the time he was coughing of water and able to watch what was happening, the son of Apollo had been joined by Luke.
  
  "LEO, DON'T TRY-"
  
  The son of Hephaestus and engineer of the Suicide Squad had had what was possibly the most audacious, courageous, and suicidal idea of them all. With his hands on fire, he was trying to open the wound further. And the Minotaur in the meantime was trying to wrestle the Destroyer from behind ensuring that there was no devastating strike to crush the hirsute-looking Leo Valdez into bloody paste.
  
  Unfortunately, that did nothing to the death ray.
  
  The Destroyer fired.
  
  Michael Yew closed his eyes.
  
  "HOT! TOO HOT!"
  
  Michael opened his eyes again, and it was to see Leo Valdez. Leo Valdez was absolutely naked, but well and truly alive. The Latino Demigod had a far tanner skin, like the son of Hephaestus had been slightly roasted.
  
  "The Moon be praised, he's not just immune to his own flames, he's also immune somewhat to the Destroyer's fire!"
  
  "MY TURN!"
  
  It was like the absence of incineration had given an overdose of courage to Leo Valdez.
  
  No, it had done more than that.
  
  The Destroyer fired again.
  
  And as it did, the son of Hephaestus' skin was darkening.
  
  No, the rays were doing more than that.
  
  Leo Valdez had been, with all due respect, a scrawny and physically unimpressive Demigod.
  
  Now with each strike, it was like he was getting taller and more muscular.
  
  By the time the Destroyer realised its 'death-flame rays' were having the opposite effect of what it intended to do, it was too late.
  
  Leo Valdez had become a two metres-tall colossus of pure muscle and ebony skin, and his hands were more akin to tools of destruction.
  
  The silvery metal of the Destroyer didn't falter; it was simply ripped apart.
  
  And then Leo, or rather, the massive hulk of destruction he had become, punched inside the terrible gap just created.
  
  Asterius the Minotaur flew again, once again to make a colossal splash.
  
  There was a titanic explosion.
  
  A sun was born again.
  
  Most reddish lights faltered and died.
  
  For five seconds, darkness claimed the submarine base.
  
  Then the lights flickered back on.
  
  The Destroyer...the Destroyer had fallen. On the pier where the final assault had taken place, there was only a derelict shapeless form of silver metal.
  
  And Leo Valdez, or rather the adult variant of Hercules who had taken his place, raised his hands in triumph and roared, burning in an inferno of flames.
  
  "VICTORY!"
  
  "I can't believe it...he beat the Destroyer..." Annabeth mumbled.
  
  "With some help," Michael added.
  
  "VICTORY! I WON! I AM-"
  
  A second later, one hundred water jets hit him from every direction.
  
  "STOP IT! STOP THAT! I FEEL...I feel..."
  
  The towering giant the son of Hephaestus had become began to decrease in size, the mass of muscles faltering. The raging flames were extinguished.
  
  It took one minute of continuous water projection, but when it was over, Leo Valdez was back to his 'normal' and unimpressive appearance. He was completely naked too.
  
  "I don't feel so well," the fire-wielding Demigod announced weakly as the water bombardment stopped.
  
  And then he collapsed.
  
  "To date, I will notice that only Jackson has managed to utter sentences about invincibility without being smacked down for the audacity of challenging Fate," Luke noted drily.
  
  "Okay, we have to decide our next course of action." Michael sighed in relief. After all, they were alive. They were all alive. They were-
  
  "You could surrender," the two Amazons had left their hideout. Just as they did it, the gates barring the way to C.C's Spa opened again loudly and thunderously. The opening revealed a small army of other Amazons, armed like hoplites, and marching in a formation that reminded him a lot the march of the Roman Legions of New Constantinople.
  
  "I think, my fellow Questers, that the time has come to negotiate?"
  
  "Shut up, bard."
  
  Michael Yew scowled. Truly Jackson had done him no favour by giving him the least praised job of the entire Suicide Squad...if one excepted the Gallowborne, of course.
  
  20 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  "Jackson, where by the Pit are we running to?"
  
  "Stop asking ridiculous questions, Grant, and run!"
  
  "I've been doing nothing but that in the last hour!"
  
  "Intruders detected on the second level of the eastern wing. Intruders detected on the second level of the eastern wing. All witches and spa employees have the duty to apprehend the intruders!"
  
  "We turn on the left! JUMP!"
  
  Richard and Dakota jumped by reflex. And it was happy they did, for the huge green carnivorous plant waiting for them was certainly no illusion this time.
  
  "What by the Pit is this place?" the son of Hercules asked. "Damn it, why did you send the sorceresses away? We would have badly required their help here!"
  
  "They have their own missions," Perseus Jackson retorted between the moments he breathed out. There was no exhaustion on his face, but there was certainly sweat and his pace was slowly decreasing. "And it would have been a really bad idea for the girls to be here with us."
  
  "Why?"
  
  Seven or eight magical spells were hurled at them, and Dakota, being the slowest of their trio, barely avoided them.
  
  "You're about to see! Turn on the right now!"
  
  Richard obeyed the command, and found himself descending a new series of stairs like if his life depended on it, which was certainly the case.
  
  In passing, his mind acknowledged the surroundings were far more...girly than what he had seen before. The walls were no longer white cream or blue-green, the sun-and-sea paintings were absent, instead what had replaced them was a pink-red colour. It dominated everything, and accompanying it were various extravagant objects and artworks of golden colour.
  
  In fact, Richard was ready to bet the things were entirely made of gold, be they necklaces or watches.
  
  And after the stairs and the exhibits was an enormous alley leading to great pink-gold doors.
  
  "Here we are, the VIP Suite Number Three. Whatever you think from now on, keep your mind clear, be very polite, and let me speak."
  
  There was a cavalcade behind them making clear the witches in C.C's service would not be long in finding where they had gone. The son of Poseidon didn't bother knocking at the door.
  
  He merely pushed the pink-golden doors, and entered like he owned the suite.
  
  Richard at first coughed while following him...it was...perfume, right?
  
  This was a powerful scent!
  
  Five more steps, and it was a different smell which assaulted his senses.
  
  Three more steps, and the muscular abruptly stopped.
  
  For yes, Jackson had not lied, it was one of the VIP suites of the spa. Albeit given the divine owner, it should not be surprising that what C.C called a 'suite', most Demigods would call a 'private palace the size of a building with multiple levels and highly luxurious accommodations'.
  
  That was more or less understandable, by the way.
  
  What was far more embarrassing was that there were a lot of nymphs and other female elemental spirits watching them now...and since most of them were blatantly naked and in the midst of...passionate actions, it felt like that they had interrupted an all-female orgy.
  
  There was one more cloud of pink perfume, and one of the women who had been almost hidden inside a large pool came out, and her glare was certainly murderous...as was the pink aura of power shrouding her.
  
  "Give me a reason why I shouldn't transform you into ashes and disperse them into the jungles of this island, Demigods."
  
  Perseus Jackson...curtsied?
  
  "Lady Lesbos, forgive the rude intrusion at this untimely hour, but my dear sister Rhode and the Lady of the Doves commanded me to deliver you their letters in person."
  
  What?
  
  He was...what? Jackson had to be bluffing...no way...how could he even know a specific Goddess would be here?
  
  But the two envelopes that were delivered to the pink-haired Goddess certainly looked very real.
  
  "Hmm..." the letters were opened, and while the immortal woman gave them a mere glance, it appeared enough for her purposes. "Very well, it seems you are telling the truth, Demigod. But there are other methods to contact me."
  
  "You have been enjoying the delights of C.C's Spa and Resorts for many years, my Lady." The son of Poseidon replied smoothly, all the while Grant did his best to just look at his feet and ignore...ignore everything. He really, really didn't want to be changed into a girl, after all. "And since the methods to communicate in a conventional way with you were impossible, other alternatives had to be found."
  
  The Goddess seemed to find the excuse acceptable. It had to be, because they were not changed into a guinea pig or transformed into female versions of themselves.
  
  "Very well," the Greek Goddess murmured, "I am going to-"
  
  "THEY ARE HERE! CATCH THEM!"
  
  A small army of spa employees and Amazon warriors stormed the suite. They immediately paused, of course, as they contemplated the...the orgy and everything Jackson was responsible for.
  
  "Everyone seems to find an interest in intruding in my suite without an invitation tonight, I see," Lesbos commented frostily.
  
  One of the witches-employees immediately bent the knee.
  
  "Lady Lesbos, please forgive us! We were pursuing these dangerous Demigods, and when we saw them invading your private wing, we feared the worse for your guests and your...your friends and companions!"
  
  "My lovers, girl," this time a shadow of amusement returned in the voice of the Goddess. "Yes, I can forgive this. And besides, these three Demigods had other motives than giving me important couriers. They are yours to arrest."
  
  Two Amazons cheered.
  
  Richard turned his head, and sighed loudly.
  
  Naturally, a lot of female heads in turn decided to glare at him, which was really intimidating. It made him feel like that time where he had been cornered by these hyena monsters in Africa.
  
  "Not to...err...personally disagree with you, Lady Goddess, ladies...but...are you sure you aren't making a cardinal mistake?"
  
  "Lady Circe is going to transform you into a guinea pig, male!"
  
  Richard Grant grimaced.
  
  "I was referring to the fact that for a good ten seconds, you have forgotten to watch Perseus Jackson."
  
  Suddenly, all the women, nymphs, and other beings present in the room realised with wide eyes the son of Poseidon had left an illusion behind to fool them. He was in the mean time busy to examine a large fountain of marble representing grapes and other fruits.
  
  But the fountain, unlike other pools and sections of the suite, was not filled with water.
  
  It was filled with wine.
  
  "Oh come on," Dakota complained. "Surely we aren't going to begin this circus all over again!"
  
  "Afraid of something, my drunken lieutenant?" the son of Poseidon of course had to be his usual provocative self. Of course.
  
  "Get away from this fountain, Perseus Jackson," Lesbos ordered. "You do not know-"
  
  But it was too late. Clearly, Hydrokinesis was evidently good enough when it came to wield a large quantity of alcoholic drinks.
  
  One click of his fingers, and what had to be three or four barrels of wine struck Dakota McDonald before the son of Bacchus could evade. And then more was sent at Lesbos, the female employees of the spa, and everyone else.
  
  For a couple of seconds, there were only screams of outrage.
  
  Then the screams faded, and there was a new presence.
  
  Dakota advanced...and his S-Suit began to...shift to make it even more indecent than previously thought possible.
  
  The Roman Demigod growled, and the possessed look in his eyes was honestly frightening.
  
  He approached a girl of the spa, one suddenly Richard recognised as a female Legionnaire. Dakota grabbed her like she weighed nothing before carrying her bridal style and vigorously kissing her!
  
  "GRANT! RUN!"
  
  The son of Hercules decided that once again, this was really the best idea of a large number of options.
  
  Richard Grant ran towards the door they had just come from, right as a Goddess summoned five or six women by her side for activities that were definitely of a carnal nature, nymphs threw themselves at Amazons, Amazons tore apart the clothes of witches, and witches proclaimed their love for nymphs.
  
  The warrior did not think he had ever felt so relieved when the pink-gold doors slammed shut. Though it really did nothing to silence the...the screams of passion and other things that he could still hear.
  
  "This is...this is just...this is just madness."
  
  "Well, I threw enough Mystery Wine around for a Cohort to get insane."
  
  "Mystery Wine?"
  
  There were more screams and moans...and for once, Perseus Jackson had the good grace to look sheepish.
  
  "Once you drink it, you are strongly reminded of some of the most powerful beverages you've ever had the pleasure to drink...for Dakota, one of them is Eleutherian Wine. I'm sure the rumours of our exploits during the First Great Quest were mentioned."
  
  "Yeah, but...but..." it was the shock, Richard thought. It was the shock. "Most of them were...are followers of Lesbos. They will kill him!"
  
  "Nah, the Amazons have a lot of boy toys, and at least three of the girls who caught up were former Legionnaires, Circe mustn't have time to brainwash them too much."
  
  "Jackson, two of them are the Ramirez-Arellano sisters! I remember them now. There are daughters of...of the War Goddess!" Even here, it wouldn't be very prudent to say 'Bellona'. "Once the effects of the 'mystery wine' end, there will be hell to pay!"
  
  Perseus Jackson smirked.
  
  "No, I'm sure he will be fine!"
  
  "OH, YES!"
  
  Richard was sure his expression had to be...mortified.
  
  "You see? Everything is fine!"
  
  "Jackson, you're...you're completely crazy," the son of Hercules finished weakly.
  
  "But you forget something, my muscular lieutenant! It worked. All the women who pursued us, be they Amazons, employees of the spa, and other female security personnel, they're all inside this suite 'entertaining' Lesbos and her companions. The way is now clear to accomplish our mission."
  
  And the son of Poseidon began once again to accelerate the pace, not quite running, but certainly unwilling to stay anywhere near the palatial suite.
  
  "The letters...they were authentic?"
  
  "Of course, they were."
  
  "I thought...Gods...ah, this doesn't count as direct intervention."
  
  "No, it doesn't," Perseus' grin was honestly terrifying. "The Master of Olympus really should try to formulate better his directives, it is honestly far too easy get around them."
  
  20 December 2006, the entrance leading to the Eye of Helios
  
  Perseus examined the small object for several seconds. It had the shape of a golden needle, but of course it was far more than that.
  
  "We're done here, Grant."
  
  "What? But you said we were here to acquire super-weapons!"
  
  "Certain types of super-weapons, my dear muscular lieutenant. Emphasis on the 'certain'. In case you have forgotten, the Eye of Helios consists of this entire lighthouse's machinery, not just the few flames and the miniature sun at the top. I have many talents, but I can't carry that."
  
  "Then why the hell did we come here?"
  
  "Life-insurance," the former Tyrant replied smugly. "You may know it by the word of 'leverage' too, that said."
  
  The son of Poseidon descended the stairs of white marble at a steady pace, preparing himself for the dangerous game.
  
  "And what about the others, Jackson, they are...oh, by my father's trials!"
  
  The exclamation was sonorous, but relatively normal. After all, the white plaza bordered by two small rivers had been empty when they crossed it the first time.
  
  Now they were over three hundred Amazons waiting for them. They had over one hundred sorceresses and other magical practitioners in support behind them.
  
  That, obviously, would have been likely largely a lot of military force to deal with two Demigods.
  
  But there was an irate Goddess too on top of that.
  
  Grant surprised him, though.
  
  "It's his fault!" the son of Hercules accused.
  
  No, you couldn't gamble who was scandalously and inaccurately targeted by vile calumnies.
  
  Many Amazons chuckled.
  
  "Grant, you were not supposed to be the treacherous lieutenant for this battle."
  
  "You have a treacherous lieutenant for every battle you fight?" an Amazon asked, bewildered.
  
  "I have a treacherous lieutenant for every event which matters in a Great Quest," Perseus replied cheerfully. "It is said that one can't be betrayed if you don't trust someone, which is why I surround myself constantly with possible traitors."
  
  "I was told he was completely crazy," another Amazon spoke. "But this is-"
  
  "Enough," the voice was magical...as in 'filled with magic'. Or maybe drowning under the weight of magic? Or maybe soaked in sorcerous power? Yes, it was better. "Your plans have failed, son of the Earthshaker."
  
  If he hadn't known better, the appearance would have been almost insulting. High-heeled purple shoes. A purple Chinese-styled robe which showed so much flesh it would have made uncountable Demigods drool like idiots. The long black hair, the flawless figure, the long legs...everything Circe showed was seductive, flawless, polished with the help of dozens, maybe hundreds of enchantments.
  
  But the eyes betrayed her.
  
  Circe had the black eyes of Hecate, and no charm or artifice was enough to hide them.
  
  "I hope you didn't kill all my penguins, Lady Goddess. I happen to be really fond of them."
  
  Whatever the Immortal Sorceress had thought he would say...this wasn't it, clearly.
  
  "Two of them are still alive." Ah, it was so nice knowing you, Fergus Cook. He was going to assume the golden penguin had perished, since he was the one who had the biggest suicidal tendencies. "The Amazons may yet take them as mascots, if I happen to release these cursed Demigods to them."
  
  Perseus cackled.
  
  Mascots? Oh, it was too good.
  
  "I'm sorry, but with all the respect I have for you, Goddess, I still need them to accomplish my plans."
  
  "Your plans are in ruin, son of the Earthshaker!" Circe really watched him like a hawk now. "Your followers did manage to vanquish my Destroyer guarding the submarine base, but they all surrendered, exhausted by the battle!"
  
  For the first time, Perseus could say he was both unpleasantly surprised...and incredibly impressed.
  
  "A Destroyer," the green-eyed Demigod said in a deadly serious voice. "You somehow found a way for the God of Forges to give you a Destroyer, despite all the restrictions Olympus placed on such types of weapons?"
  
  "There was a single unit being tested at Forge MP-42," Circe replied with a scowl.
  
  Ah yes, that explained why it was possible, as well as her anger. The unit the Suicide Squad had destroyed wouldn't be replaced anytime soon.
  
  "My apologies for the trouble," Perseus answered honestly. "If I had known the Destroyer was there, I wouldn't have sent any officer of the Suicide Squad inside the submarine base. I would have sent the Gallowborne."
  
  "Do you really think I care about your apologies, son of the Earthshaker?" Circe's expression was really...well, the rumours of her hatred towards male in general were not that exaggerated.
  
  "With the benefit of hindsight...no. But it is only polite to apologise. Especially because I'm afraid I'm going to blackmail you."
  
  Many Amazons laughed wildly.
  
  Even Circe seemed to find his words funny and worthy of a cruel smile.
  
  "You have nothing to blackmail me with, Perseus Jackson."
  
  That sounded like a real challenge, all right.
  
  So he removed a certain golden needle-shaped object from his pocket.
  
  The hiss of anger proved that this part of the plan was definitely successful, at least.
  
  "Judging by your expression, Lady Circe, I can conclude you have recognised the stabiliser of your super-weapon's targeting array. Without it, you can still fire the Eye of Helios, but you definitely can't aim it at anything in an accurate fashion. You will fry half of the Sea of Monsters first."
  
  "True," the Immortal Sorceress agreed, "but I can still take it from your smoking corpse. I don't think it will take too long. I would say...five minutes, and that's a generous estimate."
  
  And then the sounds Perseus had waited for arrived to his ears.
  
  This resonated like thunder on the plaza.
  
  But thunder was not a weather allowed to exist near C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  And thunder was not accompanied by the familiar sound of cannonballs in the air.
  
  "You may not have five minutes." Perseus gave her a calm expression.
  
  "What exactly did you do?"
  
  "I am a wanted man, these days, Circe." Perseus grinned. "It is entirely possible the pirate fleet which for a mysterious reason thought to find me here is attacking this island in the hope they can take my head, and thus win their liberty. The Triumvirate promised to remove their slave collars and a large sum of Drachmas: those are powerful motivators."
  
  The former Tyrant could now see the calculations play in the black eyes; Circe was strangely similar to Lou Ellen, her mortal half-sister, in that regard. She knew what he had engineered. Most of the Amazons were out of position; the Destroyer was gone, and the Eye of Helios couldn't fire. A lot of ammunition had been expended, the submarines most certainly couldn't sail out with the undersea gates severely damaged.
  
  In general, this was the moment where he would have gloated.
  
  But Circe could still choose to incinerate him; thus the tragic need to show a reasonable face to the end.
  
  "What do you want...Perseus Jackson?"
  
  Well, it was neat progress. Circe had even called him by his name!
  
  "Isn't it evident, my Lady? I want to surrender."
  
  Her mother, her sisters, and her allies were going to gloat.
  
  Circe had been warned to not underestimate Perseus Jackson, and it seemed that despite all the warnings given, she had done exactly that.
  
  It was tempting, oh so tempting to incinerate Perseus Jackson and avenge the strategic defeat while scattering his ashes in the wind.
  
  But it would exhaust her.
  
  And now that the Immortal Sorceress extended her presence beyond the spa, she could feel twenty-two warships, all filled with pirates and other scum of the seas.
  
  Conventional war wasn't her specialty; when she wanted to win, she isolated the weak and the lone sailors, or she trapped them with cursed food and drinks.
  
  It was likely she would win in the end, she was a Goddess after all. But her spa would be ravaged by war. The reputation of her establishment would sink, assuming she could even keep it open. Everyone would know that for the first time in several centuries, she had to relocate her activities elsewhere. And that was assuming Olympus wouldn't try to make her pay for allying with the Triumvirate.
  
  "And the terms of your...surrender?" It was hard to stay calm and not snarl the words.
  
  Defeated parties should not have the power to decide the terms of how bad they lost.
  
  Alas, Circe was beginning to understand that 'victory' and 'defeat' were very relative terms when it came to the son of Poseidon.
  
  And killing him would likely make Atlantis very unhappy with her.
  
  "I want the terms of the Achaia Convention to apply to every member of the Suicide Squad, with Oath on the Styx and all the formalities."
  
  Of course, he did. This ancient piece of diplomacy gave off very, very generous conditions to prisoners of war...so generous really that many Gods and Titans had joked that those it was applied to should be called 'honoured guests', not prisoners.
  
  "This sounds reasonable." Circe admitted. "But the expenses of the prisoners will not be paid by my treasury. Olympus will pay the bill alongside your ransom, or it will be the Suicide Squad's duty to cover the expenses."
  
  "Agreed." Perseus Jackson nodded surprisingly quickly. "Although I must insist the tariffs are reasonable. We're hardly divine VIPs, after all."
  
  If anything, the rational argument annoyed her even more.
  
  Perhaps because she wanted an excuse.
  
  No, the Immortal Sorceress had to be honest.
  
  She did want an excuse to resume the fight.
  
  Her pride had been humbled, her security system had been crippled, and her measures had proven insufficient because she had completely underestimated the goals and the ambition of the son of Poseidon.
  
  But the pirate ships were firing again, and coming ever closer to her island.
  
  The magical protections would not last very long against such a large bombardment.
  
  "There is still the matter of Suite Number Three to talk about."
  
  "Cut the supply of Mystery Wine and other exotic substances," the green-eyed Demigod shrugged. "I'm sure the madness aura of my drunken lieutenant will fade after that, putting an end to the orgy. And if it does not, sheer exhaustion eventually will."
  
  "True."
  
  Circe swore the Oath.
  
  Perseus Jackson threw her the object he had stolen from the Eye of Helios.
  
  It was only once she had teleported atop the lighthouse where her father's greatest weapon that she realised her mistake.
  
  The Goddess of Illusions and Magical Transformations had been in such hurry that she hadn't waited for the mad Demigod to surrender.
  
  Damn it.
  
  Now...well, there was nothing she could do for the next seconds.
  
  But the pirates and their ships would make excellent replacement targets for her wrath.
  
  20 December 2006, approaches of C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  The nightly spectacle was one that he would remember for a very long time.
  
  Hundreds of cannons roared, and their fire illuminated the Sea of Monsters almost like they were under daylight, despite it being close to midnight.
  
  Add the special rockets to make sure the galleons and all other warships had a splendid way to aim their guns, and you wouldn't have believed they were close to midnight.
  
  Thomas Cavendish, sole and only master of the White Desire, Admiral of the Cavendish Pirates, smiled coldly as one by one, the sorcery protecting the island faltered and died.
  
  "Well," the pirate once called 'the Navigator' lowered his spyglass to speak to his second, "it looked like your guess was right, Hammond."
  
  "They may try to lure us in, Captain."
  
  "No," Thomas shook his head, "it's been one hour we've been within the range of the Eye of Helios. C.C waited so long to destroy the Roman carrier because she wanted to recruit the female Legionnaires and brainwash her with her...her perversions. There was no need for her to wait with us. No, Hammond, if the Eye of Helios doesn't fire, it is because it can't. The assault of the Suicide Squad must have seriously damaged it, or the women operating it are too busy fighting for their very lives."
  
  "Powerful reasoning, Captain." His second spoke. "Maybe I just said it because it was too good to be true...and it gives us an opportunity to seize the riches Blackbeard so nicely negotiated on our behalf!"
  
  "That's certainly something I will not regret," the Captain of the White Desire smirked. "I don't like Blackbeard."
  
  "Captain..." the Paymaster of the White Desire chuckled, "I don't think that anyone save Blackbeard likes Blackbeard. His crew doesn't like him...they are simply too terrified to disobey his commands. When you sail on the Queen Anne's Revenge, not every slave is in chains."
  
  "That's certainly something to keep in mind," Thomas Cavendish agreed.
  
  Especially if this whole operation was successful.
  
  Fortune was always a powerful lure for other pirates, and this hunt was no exception. If they successfully divided the bounty between all the Captains, there was no doubt Blackbeard and other pirates would try to kill them for the golden Drachmas.
  
  "The Baker's New Job and the Determined Butcher have taken a good advance, Captain. They're going to land their assault force before us."
  
  "Let them think they are the best," Thomas replied. "Whatever side did win the battle, I doubt the witches of C.C or the Suicide Squad completely exhausted each other. And continue to fire for ten good minutes, I want the defences gone by the time we go ashore."
  
  The cannons continued to roar and throw hundreds of projectiles.
  
  Some men would have compared it to hell, with the brimstone and the fires they lit into the night, but these men wouldn't have been sailors.
  
  It was the heart of war, the violence before the plunder.
  
  Thomas Cavendish returned to his spyglass as over a hundred pirates raising cutlasses, muskets and boarding sabres set food on the white sands of C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  "What it is, Hammond?"
  
  "Err...Captain, there is a...an orange seagull on your right. It looks like an automaton model...and it has a letter for you."
  
  The urge was strong to wonder if his second had drunk too much rum when he had his back turned, but the English-born pirate turned his head, and sure enough, there was indeed an automaton looking like a seagull, a thing of wheels, pistons and other metallic parts.
  
  And when he moved, the letter quickly fell into his right hand.
  
  Thomas opened it, wondering if C.C was going to do the smart thing and flee while giving him a lot of women so his men could have their funs and-
  
  Thomas froze while reading the first words.
  
  Captain Thomas Cavendish,
  
  My name is Perseus Jackson. You may have heard of me since I entered this Zone Mortalis.
  
  As I am a truly pacifist and gentle soul, I want to swear you my eternal friendship.
  
  "Not a chance, your head is worth far too much to-"
  
  But after a large blank space, more words magically appeared on the paper.
  
  Now that you have refused it, I regret to inform you, dear friend, that despite my long-lived benevolence, my plans and yours are going to have some coexistence issues.
  
  You see, in order to accomplish my objectives, I may have been, against my will I assure you, to negotiate the surrender of the Suicide Squad to Lady Circe. This is not a decision I made lightly, let me assure you.
  
  "Bastard," Thomas had to reassess his entire strategy. The Immortal Sorceress and her pets were certainly not as exhausted as they should have been if the Demigods had gone down fighting. "It was-"
  
  Of course, the moment you will read this letter, it will have been at least twenty seconds since I will have returned the targeting array's key piece of a certain super-weapon to Circe. Since I estimate the Goddess of this island will need approximately thirty seconds to return it to its proper place and rearm the Eye of Helios, I suppose that when you will read these words, the first laser shot will arrive to destroy your vanguard.
  
  A new sun was born.
  
  There was no other way to describe it.
  
  And as the sun chased away the night, the Baker's New Job exploded, killing all the crew which had not yet landed. Then the antique weapon went on to fire on the Determined Butcher. The third, fourth, and fifth shots were for the pirates who had stepped foot on the beach.
  
  "I HATE YOU PERSEUS JACKSON!" Thomas Cavendish screamed with all his heart, before fear replaced hatred in his heart. The Eye of Helios was active. The Eye of Helios was active, and his ships were all above an underwater minefield. They had removed enough of the traps to get through them by sailing above them, but they couldn't use their submarine capabilities. And if they couldn't...
  
  "TURN US AROUND!" The Master of the White Desire screamed. "TURN US AROUND, THIS BATTLE IS LOST!"
  
  The small sun fired again, and this time Thomas Cavendish's entire world disappeared into an inferno.
  
  20 December 2006, the plaza leading to the Eye of Helios
  
  It hadn't been easy to prepare a sleeping spell of that magnitude.
  
  But Bianca was very satisfied: while she'd not been the target, even a Goddess in the heart of her Domain had not sensed it in a passive state.
  
  And once she was gone to rearm her super-weapon, it had been time to sleep for nearly four hundred women.
  
  Naturally, Perseus Jackson and Richard Grant had run away to complete the next part of a completely insane plan.
  
  Naturally.
  
  Bianca, on the other hand, waited for her return.
  
  A good part of her had been eagerly awaiting it. And not just because she wanted to prove Perseus' predictions could turn out to be as wrong as anyone else's.
  
  Above them, the Eye of Helios finally stopped firing.
  
  There had been, what, more than fifty strikes?
  
  It must have been a massive slaughter.
  
  And then there was a flash of purple light.
  
  She was back.
  
  The daughter of Hades was a bit annoyed there wasn't even an expression of annoyance on the Immortal Sorceress' face.
  
  "So this is what you were preparing, Lightning Thief."
  
  "I bet you didn't sense me."
  
  "I wasn't looking for you." Circe sighed. "Since there were only two Demigods and two Demigoddesses unaccounted for, I suppose this irritant son of the Earthshaker is racing to reach the daughter of the Goddess of Agriculture who was missing, if I'm not mistaken. No doubt this annoying plan required one of my weapons that have other purposes beyond military capabilities."
  
  Bianca saw no good reason to lie at this point.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "I'm really beginning to understand why the imbecile in charge of Olympus finds you so annoying." The Goddess' appearance began to change. The hair became longer and took an intensity of additional blackness that they looked like tendrils of the Night itself. The purple robe was replaced by a black gown no proper witch would have refused. Talismans and eldritch necklaces were summoned into existence. Black boots replaced the high heels. "I will only ask you once: surrender immediately, and I will not give you a painful lesson before taking you as my prisoner."
  
  "You assume," the former Dread Empress smiled, "that you are going to win. Perseus was confident of your victory, but I don't share his opinion on the matter. Shall we dance, oh Goddess of Traps and Guinea Pigs?"
  
  Circe clicked her fingers.
  
  In the blink of an eye, over a thousand magical circles appeared in the sky above her, all shining with black energy. Millions of glyphs painted the sky in incantations that were old when the Roman Empire of this world was young. Clockworks entirely made of lethal spells and blazing enchanted swords were conjured.
  
  "Oh..."
  
  "As you have yourself admitted, I am a Goddess of Magical Traps and Transformations," the daughter of Hecate bared her teeth. "I call this combination the 'Vortex of Nemesis', in honour of one a vengeful Goddess I greatly admire. Don't fall too fast, Lightning Thief."
  
  There was a second click of fingers.
  
  Bianca summoned everything she had to parry the overwhelming attack of sorcery and madness.
  
  It wasn't enough.
  
  The last minutes of 20 December 2006, the Temple of Sands, somewhere inside the true C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  Miranda really tried to not show her dismay when she saw only Perseus Jackson and Richard Grant had managed to reach her.
  
  "You're the only two left?"
  
  "I take it Lou Ellen didn't arrive." The son of Poseidon, as always, had a gift to not answer certain questions.
  
  "No, she didn't."
  
  "Then her mother must have directly intervened." The leader of the Suicide Squad said simply.
  
  "I'm sorry, what?"
  
  "The Titaness of Magic is one of the powerful VIPs this island never refuses. Circe is never going to deny her mother, not when it offers a large amount of support which keeps Olympus from attacking this island."
  
  "Jackson," Richard complained, "we aren't supposed to say her name out loud-"
  
  Terrifying explosions of night-coloured magic suddenly came into existence near the centre of the island.
  
  "I don't think it really matters anymore." Perseus said in a disabused tone. "The Spa Mistress is busy giving her former Dread Majesty a lesson of humility that is alas really necessary. Now let's move on. The duel, if we can call this one-sided punishment that, is not going to last very long."
  
  "You let the Lightning Thief fight a Goddess alone?"
  
  "I warned her, but Bianca was confident she could win." Perseus gave a last grimace as he looked at a terrible explosion, and began to walk towards the inner sections of the Temple. "Hopefully she will get a bit more humble from the experience."
  
  "When you spoke of defeat," Miranda said, "I really thought you were joking."
  
  Richard Grant grunted in agreement.
  
  "I'm sorry, but I'm only a Demigod." The green-eyed Demigod paused. "I could have razed the spa with long-range missiles, of course, given enough time. But then the Titaness of Magic would have cursed me for a decade, and we would have to deal with the wrath of Circe for the rest of our lives, and probably some years beyond that."
  
  The next few seconds were spent in complete silence, as they walked between large columns of yellow marble.
  
  "I hope you won't expect us to duel an irate deity to give you the few minutes in order to accomplish an even more ridiculous plan."
  
  "I'm not stupid, Miranda." Perseus grinned. "When the Goddess will ask you to lower your weapons, you do it, and then your surrender immediately. Circe is bound by the Achaia Convention now, risking your lives by that point would be just idiotic."
  
  That was a bit reassuring, yes, she wasn't going to lie.
  
  "Besides, what would a delay matter right now? It serves no strategic or tactical purpose. Do you feel it, my friends? The darkness approaches. The clash which will decide the awakening of the two new daughters of the Earth Mother is a question of mere minutes. Olympus is beginning to acknowledge the signs. Their attention will turn away from the massacre done by the Eye of Helios."
  
  Richard's expression became angrier, it went without saying.
  
  "Next you're going to say everything was part of your plan."
  
  "Not everything no," the son of Poseidon shook his head. "Casualties and fatalities, alas, will be far higher than my pessimistic estimates allowed for. But if we can't count on Olympian support to open a breach in the walls of Forge MP-42, we need something that will give us victory. We need an asset which will give us the definite edge we lack at present."
  
  "And this weapon is?"
  
  Perseus didn't answer the son of Hercules' query, instead he entered the altar chamber of the Temple.
  
  Miranda had expected a lot of things. It may have been rows after rows of weapons, like the Questers had been tempted with before challenging the Ice Drakon. It may have been a magical statute a God or a Goddess would do everything to keep in pristine state. It may have been countless magical engines of great destruction created by Circe.
  
  It was none of that.
  
  There were no statues, no gold, no treasures, and certainly nothing which could be described as a weapon.
  
  "Jackson, are you sure we're in the right place?" asked the tallest member of the half-divine trio.
  
  "Of course, my most muscular lieutenant. The weapon is right there, straight in front of you."
  
  "Jackson, that's a big urn...or a jar! I don't know what word best applies, I admit."
  
  And no, Miranda wasn't exaggerating. It was a very big urn, or a very big jar.
  
  As they got close to it, however, there was a particular sinister detail revealed: the object was chained. Yes, there were true chains of metal, all of which felt enchanted, and were there to make sure the artefact didn't move by a centimetre.
  
  "I call it the 'Sand Jar'." Perseus frowned. "I don't know the real name of course, but mine has a certain simplicity, I will admit."
  
  "Yes, what does it do?"
  
  Evidently, this was the wrong question to ask, because the infernal smirk of a certain Demigod grew bigger.
  
  "Isn't it evident, my most muscular lieutenant? It is a big jar filled with sand."
  
  "I thought you were the one saying we lacked the time for the jokes," Miranda reminded him tersely.
  
  "There's always time for good puns," was the depressing and predictable answer the daughter of Demeter received. "But fine, it is not just a big jar filled with sand. There is sand inside, of course. But it is no mere sand. It is the essence of a powerful being."
  
  "I've a very bad feeling," Richard Grant growled. "Don't tell me your marvellous plan is to release the demon of the sands in the middle of this island so that you can improve your surrender terms!"
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "I will seriously have to create a cardboard with a 'don't be ridiculous' message. No, this is not my plan. First and above all, the Achaia Convention is pretty much the best terms we will ever get from Circe. Releasing an apocalyptic weapon to destroy her island is pretty much a guarantee our surrender would not be accepted, or that unpleasant loopholes for our detention would be considered. Secondly, the Sand Jar does not contain the essence of a demon."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "No," the smile was a model of smugness if there ever was one, "this Sand Jar is the prison of the Drakon of Sands."
  
  It said quite something that without coordinating in the least, Miranda and Richard took immediately two steps back.
  
  "You told us you didn't know where to find the two other Primordial Drakons!" the accusation of the son of Hercules was not long in coming.
  
  "It is not a Primordial Drakon, just one of the most powerful and killable member of its species." Perseus declared calmly. "I will have you know this is also the one I am quasi-certain to beat on my own. Sand is powerful, but not against my Hydrokinesis."
  
  "I'm afraid I don't understand." Miranda tried, very, very hard to not sound afraid. "If you can beat this Drakon, when what's the point of trying to use this Sand Jar?"
  
  "This is indeed a good question."
  
  Perseus continued to advance towards the Sand Jar, stopping a mere half-metre away from it. Without warning, the artefact began to shake and try to escape its chains, but the enchantments and the metal held, though the energy of the thing was definitely not reassuring.
  
  "But there is a better one. What kind of being can defeat a Titan one-on-one?" The leader of the Suicide Squad did not leave them more than a couple of seconds to think about it. "The list is frankly very limited. There are the Primordials, of course, and then there are the Titans. As the former are far too dangerous to be ever considered, this means we need a Titan or a Titaness on our side."
  
  The son of the Earthshaker moved his arm in direction of the Sand Jar, but refrained to touch it.
  
  "In the damaged chronicles of the Titan Age I was able to recover, the tales were formal the Sand Drakon was the messenger and the ferryman of the Titaness of Drakons. No matter how many obstacles stood in the way, the Drakon could indeed bring allies and enemies to the Titaness...a rare power, but not that surprising, given that the Drakon was in all likelihood the most powerful female Drakon."
  
  "Then what are we waiting for? Sever the chains and-"
  
  "This isn't that simple, Grant. When I say the essence of the Drakon, or the Drakoness, I suppose, I'm not familiar with male/female Drakon designations. Anyway, the essence of the Sand Drakon has been imprisoned in this Sand Jar. The body was destroyed, along with much of its ancient identity. Therefore, it will need a new host."
  
  "You want us to be possessed by a Drakon? No way, by the Pit!"
  
  "Not you, Grant," Miranda whispered. "Me. It's why you gave me the metal ivy, didn't you? It will allow me to have a measure of control immediately over the Sand Drakon."
  
  "It was one of the possible plans I left open for later Great Quests," Perseus agreed, though there was no smile on his face. "But the choice is up to you, Miranda."
  
  "Really?" she couldn't stop the ironic drawl from being uttered by her lips.
  
  "Yes, really. In many ways, it is something on the level Jade and Drew accepted when they accepted to become Champions of their respective Goddesses. Unlike that time, however, the blessing doubles as a curse. The identity of the Drakon is very much destroyed, but its powers and primal instincts are still there. You will stop sleeping. It will constantly tempt you with the power of the sands. And it will not stop until you will master said powers for good."
  
  "The flowers of the desert grow strong," Miranda didn't know where the words had come from, only that they were true. "Or they die."
  
  "Indeed."
  
  Miranda thought it over.
  
  It was very much a choice she hoped she would never have to do.
  
  Yet so far, this Great Quest had been a series of mad deeds. It had told her over and over that she was weak. Metallic ivy or no, Miranda was weak.
  
  It may not be tomorrow, but one day, she would be as powerless as the Gallowborne had been when the enemies of the Suicide came. It was that or she fled to the safety of New Byzantium and never participated in any Great Quest again.
  
  What a choice to make when you were just a teenager.
  
  She nodded.
  
  "Very well, I will do it."
  
  "Good." Perseus drew his sword from his scabbard, and in one large strike cut the first chain. The blow was so powerful it felt like a thunder strike.
  
  There was a second blow. A third flawless move broke one more chain.
  
  Miranda continued to walk forwards, feeling the darkness at her back. The daughter of Demeter didn't need to look to know Circe had arrived.
  
  At last the last chain was destroyed. Sand began to pour from the Sand Jar, though there was no opening, it came out from fissures on the container's surface.
  
  "It will be permanent, daughter of Ivy and Earth." A Goddess called, but her voice seemed incredibly distant. "Sorcery may be able to end the Possession, but not without killing you."
  
  "I accept the risk."
  
  Jackson muttered something that felt like six words of curse and the Temple of Sands trembled.
  
  The Sand Jar exploded.
  
  An ocean of sand submerged her.
  
  It felt awfully painful.
  
  But suddenly, there were skills that suddenly became part of her mind. Skills that had never been hers.
  
  Miranda could open a gate to the Titaness.
  
  And so the new Possessed Demigoddess did it before pain paralysed her.
  
  21 December 2006, somewhere far, far away from C.C's Spa and Resort, technically not even part of the Sea of Monsters
  
  Perseus sighed in relief when he stepped through out of the sand portal.
  
  The travel had been unpleasant, but marginally tolerable. He wouldn't do it every day to be sure.
  
  Still, it had worked. He was really going to have to offer something very nice to Miranda once he returned.
  
  The former Tyrant's biggest regret with his plan was that he hadn't been able to truly tell the brown-haired Demigoddess what he expected her to volunteer for. The risk had been too great that someone from Olympus or one Immortal Sorceress would realise what his true plan was. And as such, Perseus could only reveal the last phase at the very last minute.
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad could only hope Miranda would be strong enough to resist until he returned.
  
  Abandoning these thoughts for the time being - he couldn't do anything for or against it for the moment - Perseus looked at his surroundings.
  
  It looked like had arrived to paradise.
  
  If C.C's Spa and Resort was worth a grade of nine out of ten before the Suicide Squad invaded it, then this was easily worth a ten. The beach he had just set foot upon was pristine; it was the very image of a summer dream. Nearby, the waters were so blue the urge was there to jump in them and swim while laughing gregariously. There were gentle grass-covered hills and olive trees, along with many examples of Mediterranean vegetation.
  
  And the air! The air simply felt divinely good. It felt like sea and fruits. It felt like you could abandon all your sins and all your problems.
  
  The Gods had really created something beautiful. Of course, they had been bound by treaty to do it, but nonetheless they had fulfilled their word.
  
  Perseus gave a last regretful glance to the sea, before slowly making his way to the entrance of the island, whistling an old song that he had learned during his second childhood.
  
  He didn't have to walk long.
  
  Before he had made fifty steps, the green-eyed Demigod saw a young woman run in his direction.
  
  If her astonished expression was any indication, his arrival had come to a monumental surprise. It was normal, for he had suspected the Gods had warned her before the previous visitors were washed up on the island's beach.
  
  Where to begin with the girl's appearance? Her clothes were of a beautiful white colour, and would have been fashionable at Athens when it dominated the diverse cities of Greece. Her hair was a beautiful light brown, a shade which reminded him of caramel sweets. The hair had also been tied into an elaborate braid, and there was a golden headband. It was not a symbol of royalty, but given her natural beauty, it might have been one.
  
  Overall, while the girl did not look very athletic, Perseus was quite confident that looking at her right now, the Amazons and the Huntresses wouldn't hesitate asking her to join their respective organisations. She was very graceful, and she looked in a good physical shape, very attractive, yet hardly a threat like one represented by Bianca or himself.
  
  The Gods were really disgusting sometimes.
  
  One had to only see the light of hope which had been lit in the girl's dark eyes to know the cruelty of Olympus.
  
  Fortunately, it ended tonight.
  
  It was night, and yet on this part of the world, the stars were so luminous they had no problem watching each other.
  
  "Welcome stranger, to my island."
  
  There wasn't a single trace of power in her voice, and if he had not been so sure of his plan, Perseus would have hesitated.
  
  But he knew better.
  
  "I thank you for the welcome." The son of Poseidon smiled. "I note you didn't say 'welcome to Ogygia'".
  
  "You...you know?" The voice was musical, and clearly quite shocked.
  
  "Of course, I know. But where are my manners? I am Perseus Jackson, son of the Earthshaker, twice-born, Quester, leader of the infamous Suicide Squad, and heroic villain when I feel like it, which is most of the time. And I have decided, for very selfish reasons, to free you from your prison."
  
  "No!" The young-looking caramel-haired girl gaped. "No! This is impossible! Only the Gods can free me from this island, and they swore to me when they did it they would keep me here for all eternity!"
  
  "And yet, I am here," the former Tyrant said. "I didn't ask for their permission. I used powers that they were too content to pretend they had never existed. By your own words, I have indeed accomplished the impossible."
  
  Hope was definitely the most powerful blessing and the terrible curse ever given to mortals and immortals, wasn't it? Perseus could see it in her eyes.
  
  "I need your help. We Demigods need your help, General."
  
  And Perseus theatrically bent the knee.
  
  "You have the wrong person!" Of course the natural protest came instantly. "I am not the person you seek!"
  
  "Really?" Perseus raised an ironic eyebrow. "Was I mistaken? The old chronicles of the Titanomachy speak of you, my Lady. They speak of your wrath and your might, of elemental wings flying to war. In the halls of the Underworld, they still whisper how you sank half of the island that was to become Crete. "
  
  His fist struck his chest in respectful salute.
  
  "Hail Calypso, daughter of the Sea Titaness and the Endurance Titan, Polemarch of the Titan Grand Host, Lady of Fortitude and Might, First Warden of the Hesperides Garden, Defender of Othrys, Warden of the East...Titaness of the Drakons."
  
  A small fire began to burn in the human-looking body facing him.
  
  This time, Perseus had really all the attention of the most powerful daughter of Thethys.
  
  "These are old titles. I lost everything, including the power to back them, when we were defeated in the Titanomachy."
  
  "Yes," Perseus grinned. "So why we don't try to change that sad state of affairs?"
  
  Author's note:
  
  Perseus told the Suicide Squad he wanted to acquire a super-weapon...he never said what kind of weapon he wanted to grab when they sailed for C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  The events of the Winter Solstice and Perseus' adventures on an island cut off from space and time will continue next chapter.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen:
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper, Chuck, Jim plus fourteen other Legionnaire mutineers
  
  Gallowborne Division - all seventeen Legionnaires
  
  Nick Coleman, son of Quirinus
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber, transformed into a golden penguin and unfortunately for him, died as one
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and swore herself to Khione
  
  Drew Tanaka - daughter of Aphrodite: became a living weapon, and the new Champion of Persephone
  
  Gallowborne 'Division':
  
  17 ex-Legionnaires, condemned to be thrown in the most dangerous situations for their attempted mutiny; their names are now forsaken, and they are now known as 'Future Zombie', 'Cannon-Fodder', 'Scapegoat', 'Dead Legionnaire Walking', etc...
  
  It must be alas noted that all the Gallowborne Legionnaires all perished during their Redemption Mission on the beach of C.'C's Spa and Resort. Perseus Jackson has already declined all responsibility in the matter.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Return to Hell
  Chapter 24
  
  Return to Hell
  
  There are a few simple things to understand about the Underworld, the Hades, the Realm of the Dead, Hell, or whatever designation you happen to choose to use in a normal conversation.
  
  It is not that difficult to go there.
  
  You just have to die.
  
  Naturally, if you're still alive, visiting the realm of the Rich One counts as a Great Quest. And it is one which has all the chances to kill you properly despite your best attempts to evade that fate.
  
  Demigod or God, it is good to remember that eating or drinking the sustenance of the dead is sufficient to stop you from ever returning to the realm of the living.
  
  Still, some legendary heroes did it.
  
  Heracles of course did it. So did Orpheus, Aeneas, Theseus, Houdini, and a few others. Odysseus came near the Gates, so he doesn't figure among them, but it was nonetheless a major exploit of his.
  
  It rarely gave these heroes the rewards and the hopes which had led them to take this hyper-dangerous Quest. Orpheus is perhaps the most-well known cautionary tale about it, and the man was the best musician of his time.
  
  This never stopped many Demigods from trying to repeat the exploits of the past, unfortunately. Every generation, according to Chiron, there is someone who believes the impossible can be achieved.
  
  A very tiny majority sometimes manage to crawl back to New Byzantium over the centuries. Most of the time, their numbers when they come back are a small fraction of the initial Questers who left.
  
  And those are the lucky survivors. Nine times out of ten, the heroes don't get away with it. Hades was and still is a rather benevolent deity. But if you somehow decide for some stupid reason to challenge Cerberus to a wrestling game, insult the Erinyes, or play a contest of endurance with undead skeleton musicians, you probably deserve everything you receive, including your long tortures in the Fields of Punishment.
  
  However, all those heroes had one thing in common: they went to the Underworld and back...once.
  
  The Suicide Squad, in a mere two Great Quests, had already established a new record.
  
  We travelled across the Realm of the Dead twice as a Quester group, though in a few cases, there were members who did it only once.
  
  Little did we know that by the time of the Dark Solstice of 2006, our insane leader had zero intention to stop mid-way his insane attempts in that direction.
  
  And yes, he would get away with it.
  
  Again.
  
  Extract from the Chapter 13 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2 by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  21 December 2006, Council Room, Olympus
  
  There were days where Athena wondered why she was the Strategos of Olympus, since quite clearly everything she said was outright forgotten in mere seconds. And this was when her words weren't ignored in the first place.
  
  "This is treason! The damnable spawn saw a manifestation of Earth and didn't inform us!"
  
  For those who wondered, no, Poseidon wasn't present today.
  
  It was a good thing, for otherwise this meeting would have collapsed into a mess of childish insults and dangerous quarrelling.
  
  Alas, it wasn't like the current situation was that much better.
  
  "As I warned you before," the Goddess of Wisdom told her genitor, "if you pass laws that result in the death of all mortals who met the shadow of a Primordial, it ends every time in the Demigods lying to us or going traitor."
  
  Athena wasn't a fool. Most of the Demigods and Demigoddesses of the current generation supported Olympus because the Gods were the best option of all choices they had available. The Titans would re-establish a reign of savagery and slavery should they get in charge. And it was a gentle fate compared to what the Elder Giants wanted to accomplish.
  
  But when the choice was between dying immediately and dying a little later, their children always took the latter.
  
  "Besides," Dionysus intervened with a smirk, "if we have to punish Perseus Jackson, we also have to punish Uncle."
  
  Lightning danced in the Council Room, and most of the Gods and Goddesses present didn't have the courage to speak in front of the wrath of the Master of Olympus.
  
  "He should have informed us!" The imperious thunder was filled with offended pride, to the point she felt comfortable saying that the correct sentence was 'he should have informed ME!'.
  
  And as if things couldn't get any worse, the Lord of Lightning had an ally in this case.
  
  "He lied to us all!" Demeter was in a very bad mood, yes. "He dared lying when my beautiful daughter was imbued with the taint of the Earth! And he did nothing to stop it! My poor daughter!"
  
  Oh, it was her 'poor daughter' again? This was an impressive turnaround, even by Olympian standards.
  
  It was only a few days ago that the Goddess of Agriculture was bemoaning the shopaholic tendencies of Persephone, and how she wished Hades to take care of all the ruinous expense of handling the prodigal Goddess of Spring.
  
  "From what I understand, she is still your daughter," Athena retorted calmly, naturally receiving a terrible glare for telling the truth, and creeping vines among other plants began to encircle her Throne. "The Earth did not break the existing parental bonds; she added another bond on top of the existing ones. I can feel it from where we stand."
  
  If the previous parental bonds had been so weak they would break apart in a few years' time, maybe Demeter should ask herself the question how badly Zeus and she had screwed up the education of their child.
  
  To be honest, Athena was far more worried that she could feel Persephone's power rising from here. Yes, there was now Khione's power to challenge it and elevate it to new heights as the black flames of the Underworld clashed with the frost of Boreas' daughter.
  
  It was nevertheless not reassuring at all. Before the battle of Alcyoneus' Fall in the Sea of Monsters, the War Goddess felt sure she could have destroyed Persephone in one minute, and there would have been many seconds to gloat left.
  
  Today? Even outside of the Underworld, Athena really didn't like her chances. She had experience, flawless tactics, and many other advantages, but those could have been compensated for given enough time.
  
  "Silence! The taint must be removed!" Athena went silent, but not because she felt like obeying her 'Aunt'. It was just that she didn't fancy wasting her words to explain the obvious.
  
  Now that they felt the power growing into the depths of the Underworld, it was way, way too late to stop anything. There was no high-quality source of information telling them what was happening in Hades' realm, but Iris had been able to perceive two 'Hell Eggs' ready to hatch from where she watched.
  
  Stopping something as unprecedented would have required the Olympians' presence in the first place, and since Hades hadn't invited them, it was impossible.
  
  The armies of Olympus would need to invade the Underworld to force Hades to obey their whims, and that meant war, at a time when there were only eight Olympians in the Council Room.
  
  "This would be madness," Dionysus replied. "I speak as a specialist, in that regard. Dear Uncle decided to keep it close to his chest, and deal with the problem on his own. I suppose we should honour his wish."
  
  "So your suggestion is to do absolutely nothing?" Zeus spoke in an enraged voice.
  
  The God of Wine poured himself a new cup with a shrug.
  
  And even the Master of Olympus seemed to understand the message: what could they realistically do, besides waiting? Save Hermes in his persona as the God of Speed, every invasion attempt of the Underworld would arrive near Hades' Palace long after the Solstice was over.
  
  "We can punish the Suicide Squad!" Athena didn't need to glance in Artemis' direction to know the eyes of the Moon Huntress were filled with joy. "We finally have the evidence we need of Perseus Jackson's vile treachery! I demand his death!"
  
  Dionysus yawned loudly.
  
  Predictably, Artemis glared at him.
  
  "Are you going to tell me I can't kill your favourite?" the younger-looking Goddess snarled.
  
  "Perish the thought," the God of Madness said cheerfully. "I was just going to remark that when everything went dark and communications were disrupted, he was busy surrendering to Circe. So yes, go ahead, rush to C.C's Spa and Resort and try to kill him. I will warn you however, I am close to certain that Hecate is present to visit her favourite daughter."
  
  The gritting of the silver teeth was incredibly impressive, it had to be said.
  
  Impressive, but not surprising.
  
  Every member of the Council knew how murderous Artemis could be when she was on a rampage. But there were limits to it. Declaring war to Hecate was definitely one. The Titaness of Magic was really, really the kind of enemy you didn't want to make.
  
  Of course, if Artemis wanted all her Huntresses to be transformed into cute white rabbits, there would be many persons to make a TV series about it...
  
  "Maybe," Apollo cleared his throat. "It would be a good idea to not act in a hasty manner?"
  
  The Master Bolt didn't strike, and the mini-eruptions of lightning coming from it calmed down.
  
  Athena wasn't going to say she was reassured.
  
  They were already at war, and it hadn't gone well so far. The last thing they needed was to open more fronts against even more powerful enemies.
  
  "I support that motion," the Goddess of Wisdom spoke.
  
  The question was how many Gods and Goddesses would once the dust settled.
  
  21 December 2006, Dante Carceri, the Underworld
  
  The explosion, even by divine standards, was quite destructive.
  
  At a guess, most of what his subjects had called the 'Brimstone and Blizzard Peninsula' had been wiped out in a few seconds.
  
  It was a very good thing that the shades of the dead had been evacuated days beforehand, for they would have been dispersed for centuries if they had stayed there.
  
  There were still going to be a lot of souls scattered across his realm.
  
  This was absolutely unavoidable, when the titanic shockwave had shaken the Realm of the Living along with his.
  
  Mortal minds would be unable to describe the scale of the devastation in mere words. The peninsula and the craters where the Eggs had waited to hatch had been pulverised, razed, burned down, frozen to temperatures near absolute zero, and then rebuilt into something else...before being destroyed all over again. There were massive rocks as big as skyscrapers rained fire upon the Underworld. Tusk-shaped stalagmites followed. An ocean of burning ashes which could have killed a continent transformed temporarily everything into a realm of grey.
  
  Then the apocalyptical changes returned.
  
  It was the beating heart of the volcanoes and the lungs of ice storms. It was the beauty of the rarest gemstones coupled with the lethality of the mega-hurricanes. It was a shockwave which could and did topple palaces and citadels.
  
  It was the primal scream of two Goddesses' rebirths.
  
  Even with his realm closed off to all visitors, Hades, son of Rhea, was sure that everyone on Olympus had heard it.
  
  With his powers keeping most of the spies away, they may have not seen the kilometres-wide wings of frost rising over the devastation however. They might not perceive the Siren Goddess bathing into new lakes of magma and singing praises to Gaea.
  
  They certainly heard the roar of challenge from Khione, it must be acknowledged. No matter who or what Zeus was busy fornicating with, even his little brother could not fail to hear that.
  
  Flames and ice danced from the Styx Sea to the mountainous areas of the Fields of Punishment.
  
  Divine voices spoke, calling his name.
  
  Hades waited patiently, not uttering a single word.
  
  He felt the aggressive search of the two reborn Goddesses, but their powers failed to find him.
  
  As always, the Helm of Darkness granted him complete and total invisibility. No mortal or divine sense could perceive him.
  
  And as the 'fear mode' wasn't activated, it wasn't even possible to begin to search for a zone where terror had overwhelmed his subject's senses.
  
  They were impatient. The search didn't last long.
  
  There was a new storm of ice and fire, and it moved towards his castle and seat of residence.
  
  Hades waited.
  
  For many minutes, the Underworld seemed to fall back into an atmosphere of calm and eternal slumber. Or as much calm and slumber as could be imagined when they had been near ground zero of world-shaking explosions. There were riots everywhere in the Fields of Punishments, and the Erinyes and all his servants were maiming and carving apart millions of souls to make sure a semblance of order stayed enforced. On the shores of the Styx Sea, uncountable souls decided throw themselves to the non-existent mercy of the Goddess, in attempts to avoid the magma and the ice.
  
  Hades had never find the term 'Hell' amusing, but right now, he had to admit his realm met a certain definition of the mortals' imagination.
  
  There was now a glacier moving like a slow avalanche towards the Phlegethon River. As for the magma river, it moved in the opposite direction and would generate quite an impressive cataclysm when it would clash with the Lethe in a few hours.
  
  Hades waited.
  
  His patience was hardly tested.
  
  By the time he was examining the changes brought upon the closest parts of the Field of Punishments, the ground rumbled again. There was a terrible earthquake, which made him naturally wince. Poseidon had been insufferable during his youth when he played with that power, if Persephone had the Underworld equivalent of it-
  
  His thoughts were brutally interrupted as an enormous spear of flames shredded the roof of what had been his seat of residence. Two seconds later, one of the walls utterly collapsed and an immense quantity of snow was expelled outside.
  
  Then the explosion came.
  
  Many statues and skeletons were shattered with it, to use a charming understatement.
  
  Hades shrugged and removed the Helm of Darkness, as his millennium-old residence burned and froze.
  
  "I wanted to build a new one anyway." The vaults under it would stay intact, and that was the only important part which needed to remain undamaged.
  
  Yes, he had taken the precaution to remove all power from his Throne before the Solstice.
  
  As the Lord of Hell had that thought, the subordinate he waited for teleported in front of him.
  
  Hypnos rolled over and tried to extinguish the fires burning his red robes as best as he could before saluting. For once, the God of Sleep looked perfectly alert and with no trace of exhaustion in his eyes.
  
  "We were so close, my Lord." The white-haired God declared while giving a look of panic towards the castle...or at least what had been seconds ago a perfectly good castle. "They almost fell into your trap!"
  
  Hades raised an eyebrow.
  
  "I think it's the number of pages of your abdication document which raised their suspicions. Especially those of the Ice Goddess."
  
  "What a pity," the Lord of all Subterranean Riches mused, "if they had dared put a signature anywhere near page three, I would have been the power behind the throne, while ensuring they had full responsibility of the entire realm's bureaucracy, and an oath-bound interdiction to delegate it to their subordinates."
  
  "Yes, Lord," Hypnos licked his lips in visible sign of fear, "it was a plan worthy of your genius. Err...wouldn't it be wise to don again your Helm, my Lord?"
  
  Half of the upper castle detonated to accompany these legendary words. An entire part of the outer wall melted before being transmutated into gold.
  
  "Go, Hypnos."
  
  The God of Sleep didn't need more incitation to flee as fast as his powers allowed him to.
  
  Hades uttered a word, and around him, the prison he had erected for Dante changed, becoming an arena that was solidity incarnate. It was, once you went past the sublime decorations, a massive block of black rock that had been a pain to shape into its current form. It was as difficult to damage from the inside as it was from the outside. Sometimes, insolent immortals had been tortured here and failed to escape before Olympus orders their release.
  
  For what was to come, it may not be enough.
  
  Hades jumped and let his natural agility do the rest.
  
  Soon enough, his feet touched the onyx-coloured sand of the arena.
  
  This was when Persephone and Khione suddenly stopped their rampage, suddenly realising he was no longer hiding.
  
  The air screamed and suddenly they materialised in front of him.
  
  Khione hadn't changed much her appearance or her clothes' choice. It was still very much the seduction of frost. Of course, the scales-theme in blue and white was rather new, and so were the reptilian eyes. But even the Demigods of New Byzantium would have been able to recognise her effortlessly.
  
  The changes of Persephone were far more significant and unlike the wife he had shared so long the company with.
  
  She was no longer blonde or black-haired; everything had turned into a mane of magma red. Her skin had turned obsidian, a colour she had most of the time absolutely refused to ever indulge in, Queen of Hell or not.
  
  After further examination, the skin wasn't just black; Persephone had changed her appearance so that most of her body was made of black diamonds. Gemstones of utter darkness and fire covered her arms.
  
  And a longer tale would have to wait, for she hissed very threateningly.
  
  "Did you think it funny to take advice from Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "Now, now," Hades bared his teeth. "There is no need to be that angry." He smirked. "After all, it almost worked."
  
  "Almost," Khione agreed. "You won this battle. We will let you keep the rule of the Underworld."
  
  "How kind of you," he replied courteously.
  
  "But," and the slim hand turned into a draconic claw where a crystal of pure ice swirled with impressive power, "as your wives, we can be the power behind the throne, much like you tried to do with us."
  
  "Yes," Hades nodded, before introducing a correction of his own. "Assuming, of course, I consent. In Hera's absence, there is no one to force me to a marriage under conditions I don't like."
  
  Persephone's and Khione's expressions, naturally, turned extremely carnivorous hearing these words.
  
  The two of them conjured spears. And behind them, their Champions came.
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite had been transformed into a mermaid of silver metal, one who could swim into the rivers of magma her Goddess had just created. As for the Champions of Ice, they were now hybrids of human and Drakon, retaining a human-size, but tails, claws and talons had replaced the human limbs. And of course, their maws exhaled the power of the frost in its most hellish temperatures.
  
  Hades slammed his own weapon against the onyx-coloured arena, and his reinforcements revealed themselves.
  
  "Achilles, I believe you recognise your former lover, the last holder of Briseis' Belt. Don't let yourself charmed this time, or I will find an appropriate punishment for you. Hector, please deal with the half-alive Drakonic Champion. Aeneas, you will make sure the other one is kept at bay."
  
  "YES, LORD!"
  
  "This is going to be like this, is it?" Khione smiled, her blue eyes betraying her excitement, not that she tried that hard to hide it.
  
  "I am the Lord of the Underworld, child!" Hades proclaimed. "Your exploits in the Realm of the Living have earned you my attention and this fight. Now prove that you are worthy of the power the Earth Mother imbued your divine essences with!"
  
  "Gladly," Persephone sang, "I have a lot of aggression to pay you back with, former husband of mine, for all the credit cards you deprived me of!"
  
  Well, at least he was sure this was Persephone, not an impostor.
  
  "TO ME LEGIONS OF DEATH!"
  
  21 December 2006, Super-Mega Armoured Yacht Inevitable Doom, somewhere in the Sea of Monsters
  
  It was somewhat a relief to have the super-yacht no longer in submarine mode.
  
  Every minute the Inevitable Doom had been under the waves had been oppressive and nerve-wracking.
  
  It should have been a relief to be back under the stars, free to breathe an air which had not been recycled, and it was.
  
  But now that there was no worry about a missile or an underwater trap sending the submersible yacht into the unexplored abysses of the Sea of Monsters, there were many things a Goddess trapped into a mortal body could think of.
  
  Many unpleasant things.
  
  There were some facts that might be only the fruit of her imagination.
  
  But some of the thoughts were not born of despair.
  
  Chief above them all was how useless she was.
  
  Yes, she, Hera, former Queen of the Gods, was useless.
  
  When the time had come to choose Demigods for an assault against a sorceress' island, Jackson's argument to not include her had been that the owner of the spa would kill her given the chance, and that as such she wasn't worth the trouble.
  
  The word had not been spoken, but she had heard it nonetheless: useless.
  
  Everything that had made a Goddess was denied to her.
  
  When it came to military skills, she was judged to be inferior to a trio of penguins.
  
  That was how bad it was.
  
  She wanted to scream, to make sure the world reminded her name.
  
  Above all, she wanted to curse Zeus. She wanted to incinerate all the nymphs and other mortal women he had no doubt slept with since her downfall.
  
  But she couldn't.
  
  She could still call herself Hera, but the name was all that was left to her.
  
  The name and the legacy.
  
  They all blamed her.
  
  Seriously, it was completely unfair. Take Heracles, or Hercules as he wanted to be called. Yes, she had tried to kill the bastard, as any faithful wife would, when she became aware of her husband's infidelities.
  
  And yes, she had cursed him several times.
  
  But for some reason, every time Hercules killed a wife or took a woman by force, it was suddenly Hera's fault. The Hesperides was abandoned by the 'hero' even after he was oath-bound to take care of her! Let's blame Hera! The cousin is angry and declares himself two more Trials are going to added as punishment? Let's blame Hera! Hebe doesn't want to share the same temple as her husband? Let's blame Hera!
  
  These days, she really understood why Nemesis was so eager to answer when someone prayed to her. It was way too easy to wish revenge on someone, especially when the Gods and the Goddesses had done the exact same things you did, caused more bloodshed and atrocities you did, and in the end escaped without any punishment, despite multiple broken oaths and betrayals.
  
  If only she was Hera the Goddess, and not the pathetic 'Antigone Barbara' that the son of Poseidon had called her as an insult-
  
  The footsteps she heard forced her to turn.
  
  Hera frowned.
  
  There were supposed to be only two Half-Bloods besides her on the Inevitable Doom: the daughter of Ares and the son of Nemesis.
  
  Anne Bonny wasn't supposed to be here.
  
  The pirate daughter of Demeter had stayed at the Forge of All Perils, or so went the rumours...but apparently the rumours had been wrong.
  
  "Where were you hiding?" Hera asked, trying to mask her surprise.
  
  "There's a cabin near the engines no one ever opens." The former Guardian of a Titan's Prison answered easily. "I was there all the time since we left the Forge."
  
  "And..." call it divine intuition or female intuition, but suddenly Hera was quite suspicious. "Why were you hiding in the first place?"
  
  "Honestly? It was done for deniability reasons." Anne Bonney gave her a smile that frightened her. "Officially, I am not here. Officially, Perseus Jackson didn't give me an order. Officially, Ethan Nakamura and Clarisse La Rue are unaware of my presence."
  
  She had been wrong; it wasn't suspicious, it was very bad...for her.
  
  "Why the secrecy?" Hera asked defiantly. "You want to kill me? You don't need to do in secret, I'm sure my ex-husband will make you immortal if you happen to present him my head! He might even give you a laurel crown and more gifts you will be able to open in a century!"
  
  The Demigoddess chose to wave her large tricorn hat in mockery.
  
  "Oh, it isn't about killing you. It is about volunteering for a mission."
  
  "I didn't volunteer."
  
  "Yes, it is exactly the point I was making." The sarcasm gave her the urge to slap Anne Bonny. Unfortunately, the Demigoddess had a pirate's sabre. "But it is no problem, you know? By a strange coincidence, I learned from Jackson you were one of the loudest voices to propose I became the Eternal Guardian of this Titan's Prison. Unless the son of the Seas was wrong about that minor detail?"
  
  Hera gritted her teeth as memories of old flooded her head.
  
  "Artemis and your own mother were not exactly shy joining their voices to mine." She grumbled.
  
  "Good! In that case, you won't object to test a brand-new weapon? One which you are uniquely suited for, I might add."
  
  Hera didn't answer and tried to run.
  
  She barely managed to make ten steps before a massive net closed upon her.
  
  "For your personal information, Perseus Jackson called the weapon the 'Schrödinger Catapult'. I have no idea what it does, but you should find the password really illuminating, oh Hera. It asks the question 'is the cat alive?'"
  
  There was a flash, white flames engulfed her, and then Hera felt herself flying.
  
  21 December 2006, Ogygia
  
  It took twenty minutes for the next part of his plan to be implemented. Obviously, that amount of time was used productively for intense negotiations with Calypso.
  
  Perseus had just ended that part of the plan when Hera slammed right in the middle of the beach.
  
  "Well, that part of the plan went off perfectly! The Paradox has been solved, the cat is alive!"
  
  Thanks to him, science was about to make a giant leap forwards! If the public hadn't been so limited, the son of Poseidon would have started a monologue here and there.
  
  "A friend of yours?" Calypso asked inquisitively.
  
  Perseus smiled.
  
  "Let me present you the former Goddess Hera," the former Tyrant said theatrically. "Once Queen of the Gods, now very much mortal, because she is a treacherous viper, and her husband is very much the hypocritical and unfaithful type."
  
  The Titaness' expression changed instantly. Where amusement had shined, it was replaced by vindictiveness. The eyes began to burn in vicious flames.
  
  "As the oaths just negotiated made clear, you can't kill her."
  
  This was very much NOT a wasteful statement, given that a second later the right hand of Calypso was tightening around Hera's throat and raising her half a metre above the sands with no sign of strain.
  
  "Did you have fun all those millennia, you malicious cow?" The daughter of Tethys growled. "All these times I was assured at the end of the Titanomachy that my siblings and my mother could visit me, and in the end, you betrayed your word at the first opportunity!"
  
  Hera croaked, but was unable to articulate a single word.
  
  In the end, her tormentor threw her against a miniature dune in a nonchalant manner before her face turned purple.
  
  "Jackson! Stop her!"
  
  "I already did." He remarked. "She can't maim you permanently or kill you."
  
  He let a few seconds pass before uttering the next terrible words.
  
  "No matter how much you deserve it."
  
  The former Queen of the Gods crawled on the perfect golden sands for a few seconds before shakily standing on her legs again.
  
  "I didn't-"
  
  "You weren't the only one who participated in Calypso's punishment, I will give you that." Perseus said shrugging. "But the ugly details are definitely yours, Hera. Seriously, making her fall in love with whoever is thrown by the waves on the beach of Ogygia? That would be impressively cruel in the first place. And then you chose to make it worse, as the Curse would only choose married men who would stay faithful to their wives."
  
  "The Goddess of Love supported it too! I couldn't have done it without her!"
  
  "The more she speaks," Calypso grinned ferociously, "the more I have an urge to carve open her belly and bathe in her blood. Can I-"
  
  "No." As much as she deserved it, Hera's life wouldn't end with such an easy outcome.
  
  He turned back to face the ex-Goddess.
  
  "Honestly, it was already bad by that point, and then you decided to turn the awful into something...something I don't really have the words for. You scattered and weakened Calypso so much she was only a shadow of herself; and you still had the gall to declare that if one of the companions you brought here accepted to take Calypso using the magical raft, she would lose her immortality and all her remaining powers."
  
  Hera had the good grace to look incredibly guilty.
  
  As well she should. This sheer amount of cruelty had done more than a thousand insults to convince many parties to fight to the death rather than accepting Olympian rule ever again. Because seriously, when the terms of surrender were so bad, why bother laying down your weapons accepting your defeat? It was better to meet your end on a battlefield or continue resisting in the shadows, no matter how futile the defiance.
  
  "In a previous life, it was said there had to be a Monster, a Trial, and a Pivot." Perseus continued. "From what I've been made aware so far, you went for the Triple-Curse instead. This isn't just cruelty for cruelty's sake, it is inefficient."
  
  And the Olympians had been happy to do it. It was a very short-sighted move; Oceanus may not care about the Titaness of Drakons since she wasn't his daughter, but the moment Atlas was freed from his own torment, it would be a time-ticking bomb for Zeus and his lackeys.
  
  Fortunately or unfortunately for Olympus, Perseus had arrived first to Ogygia.
  
  "We included monsters too in case someone tried to break the prison-"
  
  Hera stopped speaking, for suddenly the night of Calypso's prison was suddenly darker.
  
  The lights of the stars began to dim as dark clouds were summoned above the island.
  
  The bioluminescent insects fled.
  
  The enchanted lights faltered and were extinguished.
  
  "I did sense them before," the auburn-haired Titaness spoke with clear interest. "This is the first time their services are needed, though. You can take pride in that, Demigod."
  
  Son of Poseidon or not, there was no way you could miss the loud hooting in the distance. And the noise made by hundreds of wings rushing to kill all interlopers was not that discreet either.
  
  "How many of them were they in the beginning?" The former Tyrant asked curiously.
  
  "Oh, only four or five," Calypso replied. "Of course, they had a lot of time to expand their numbers in the last millennia."
  
  "Jackson, those are-"
  
  "I know what they are, Hera. They are Strixes. In short and easy words to sum-up, they are giant onyx-black owl monsters, and they are particularly feared by all Demigods and Demigoddesses, for if you kill one by blade or any conventional weapon, you are on the end of a permanent curse. And naturally to keep things interesting, two more Strixes will arrive to avenge their fallen sibling. Oh, and did I mention their talons can paralyse you?"
  
  Since the security measures of Ogygia could plunge it into darkness the moment intruders were detected, using the Strixes was rather well-done. Now that the sources of light were almost gone, it was incredibly difficult to see the monsters in the first place, never mind fighting them.
  
  "Jackson, do something!"
  
  "Hera, I'm waiting for the right time to swear to them my eternal friendship!"
  
  "ARE YOU MAD?" She shrieked.
  
  Calypso chuckled near him.
  
  "While I approve your spirit, Perseus Jackson, the cow has a point. The Strixes are in general sent to drink the blood of the Gods' enemies, eat the flesh of mortals and Demigods, and of course disembowel them. I don't remember if it was in that particular order, though."
  
  Perseus took a step to his right, and the first Strix to make a diving attack missed him largely.
  
  "You have a point, oh Titaness." The leader of the Suicide Squad drew a box from his pocket. "Fortunately, as Hera and yourself know very well, the Strixes have a massive weakness. It is one which explains why they don't rule the night and why Demigods struck by their death-curses are rather rare these days."
  
  "They are incredibly vulnerable to sunlight, yes." Calypso agreed. "But with the cloudy night which was just summoned to help them in their killing mission, you would need Apollo to come to help you. There are far too many Strixes for you to triumph otherwise."
  
  "It won't be necessary." Perseus prepared himself mentally, and opened the tiny enchanted box he had kept in his pocket so far. Quickly, he plunged his left hand inside...and the pain was incredible, as he had feared.
  
  But pain had never stopped him, and being disembowelled by the Strixes would result in far worse suffering anyway.
  
  "My treacherous lieutenants thought I was content to only disable the targeting array of Circe's super-weapon," the explanation helped him focus and ignore the pain, "but I had another reason. The Eye of the Helios is no mere super-laser, you see. It also contained some of the Sun Titan's original fire. And now...I have stolen it. Close your eyes. LET THERE BE LIGHT!"
  
  Even with the eyelids in the way, the radiance was almost too much.
  
  It was as if he had ten thousand lamps right next to his face.
  
  The pain grew near-unbearable.
  
  But what was pain when you listened to hundreds, maybe thousands, of Strixes shrieking in agony?
  
  Perseus left the enchanted box open for three more seconds, and then closed it.
  
  When his vision was more or returned to normal, Ogygia was covered in Strixes' corpses...and the eyes of the Titaness watched him with an impressed expression.
  
  "Jackson..." Hera coughed, and looked ready to collapse. "You are the craziest Demigod...ever. Look at your hand!"
  
  "It is severely burned, yes." Fortunately, Calypso was already casting a spell, and soon the pain receded. His hand was not looking good, but the terrible burns were contained. In time, they would be healed. The Strixes would not.
  
  "I hope you realise that holding the Flames of the Sun did far more than that," the Titaness commented drily. "Your soul absorbed a fraction of Helios' flames, Demigod. Not a large amount, you would have been incinerated if it was the case. But-"
  
  "There's a reason why I was the one to do it...Calypso. I bathed in the blood of the Primordial Ice Drakon, and I was a son of the Seas in the first place."
  
  And even then, it had almost not been enough.
  
  The power of the Titans, no matter how diminished, was really no joke. A few more seconds, and his hand would have been roasted.
  
  "But this dealt with the Monster part of the Quest." The Strixes could have vigorously supported him, if only they had not been exterminated to the last. "Now let's speak of the Trial and the Pivot."
  
  21 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  Defeat.
  
  It wasn't a word the Suicide Squad was used to. After a successful Great Quest across the Labyrinth and the Underworld, they had believed they could handle the Sea of Monsters.
  
  This battle had proven them that this confidence had been a dangerous lie.
  
  Perseus had found a way to earn a strategic win, but from a tactical perspective, as the children of Athena would say, the Suicide Squad had been hammered, and very badly at that.
  
  Lou Ellen tried not to grimace at the sheer number of injuries which had been inflicted in a few hours.
  
  Leo Valdez looked like a mummy now. According to the Amazon Healer she asked, he was very lucky to be alive; Demigods' bodies weren't supposed to be capable of handling the absorption of a Destroyer's reactor. He was a few seconds away from self-combustion before the water jets cooled him down.
  
  All the four remaining Huntresses had broken arms or legs. It didn't sound so bad like that, but Artemis' blessings made them far more resistant than 'normal' Demigoddesses. If more evidence was needed to confirm it, the other members of the force which had tried to attack the submarine base were severely injured. Well, everyone but the Minotaur. Asterius had easily recovered and was now waiting arms crossed for Perseus to return.
  
  Otherwise, aside from the son of Minos, the only souls to be relatively in good condition were Richard Grant and the two penguins. But Rico Kowalski and Julian Skipper were trapped in modified bird cages, unlike the rest of the Suicide Squad, who had been given their hospital beds.
  
  That was all the good news she could see so far looking at this spectacle of defeat and tragedy. Elvis Knight was tied up to various medical devices; the Centurion would likely take weeks to be able to walk again, no matter how much divine food would help in the mean time.
  
  And he was alone.
  
  Lou Ellen didn't ask where the golden penguin Fergus Cook and the Gallowborne were. There was no need to. Circe had oath-bound to respect the Achaia Conventions; if the Gallowborne Legionnaires and the others weren't here, it was because they were dead.
  
  And the least said about the last two Demigoddesses, the better.
  
  Bianca di Angelo's skin had taken a certain sluggish appearance, for lack of a better description. And she was impaled with four enormous giant arrows, all of them brimming with sorcerous power. If she had not bathed into the Styx, the Lightning Thief would likely be on her way to face her father again.
  
  And if you thought that it was bad, the fate of Miranda Gardiner was worse. At least with Bianca, Lou Ellen was sure that Circe was responsible. For the daughter of Demeter, there was only Jackson to blame.
  
  Miranda was...possessed. There was no other word for it. For the moment, her changes were limited to her eyes, which had turned reptilian. But for a child of Hecate, there was no hiding the malevolent aura shrouding her body.
  
  It said quite something that the Demigoddess had been trapped into a room separated from the rest by near-transparent walls, and even then, Circe had covered her in chains and other forms of magical sealing.
  
  And the chains were shaking every second. That was how powerful the Drakonic essence possessing Miranda was.
  
  Perseus had better have a solution, otherwise he was going to be slapped for this abomination of a plan he had unleashed.
  
  As most of the Suicide Squad survivors were asleep, trying to recover, or healed by the Amazon personnel, there wasn't a lot of doubt who she had to speak to.
  
  "That was a rough night," Richard Grant said as a greeting.
  
  "Yes, it was." The daughter of Hecate answered. "Is there any chance more survivors will arrive?"
  
  "Dakota may still be alive," the son of Hercules shrugged.
  
  "May?"
  
  "Jackson's plan somehow involved trapping the son of Bacchus into a room with a Goddess of Lesbian Love, a bunch of Amazons, many Legionnaires brainwashed by your half-sister, and a fountain of 'Mystery Wine'."
  
  Lou Ellen huffed and clicked her tongue.
  
  "I'm really going to have to speak with Perseus about his sense of humour."
  
  "Yes, do that." Richard snarked, though his tone betrayed his exhaustion. "And you manage to contact him, ask him for a plan so that Dakota leave this VIP Suite alive. When the orgy will end, there will be hell to pay."
  
  "To be fair, it worked in Caligula's Circus Maximus and the Palace of the Underworld."
  
  "And one day it won't." The words were said fatalistically. "And on that day, we will never find all the missing parts, no matter how long we will search for them."
  
  As much as she tried, Lou Ellen couldn't exactly argue the pessimism of the Roman Demigod was unfounded.
  
  It went to be said that in the next seconds, the silence was not comforting at all.
  
  "I have to give it to him; he was right about a lot of things. We were not ready to attack Forge MP-42."
  
  Obviously, there was no need to ask who the 'he' was.
  
  "His craziness is too often a mask Perseus dons because he loves that," the daughter of Hecate spoke seriously. "But his plans are based on solid foundations."
  
  "I know that now." The muscular Demigod grunted. "Still, we're all arriving at our limits. The Drakon was bad, but at least we could defeat the army of overgrown iguanas. The Triumvirate fleet was bad, but they could make mistakes like everyone, and when surprised, we could expect them to make many others. But here...the troops defending this island didn't make that many mistakes. And since they were more powerful in the first place..."
  
  "Yes." What else was there to say? "Our enemies are learning. And they have immortals and far larger resources on their side."
  
  "Yes. I don't know why Jackson stole flames from the lighthouse, or if the Goddess became aware of it-"
  
  "I WILL TURN HIM INTO A GUINEA PIG THE MOMENT HE TOUCHES THE SACRED GROUND OF MY SPA!"
  
  Lou Ellen sighed. That was Circe's voice yes, in case someone hadn't caught the memo.
  
  "You can safely make the hypothesis she knows now." The blonde Demigoddess rolled her eyes. "Perseus will have to surrender immediately when he returns, because I think she's in a murderous mood."
  
  "Ah yes," Richard grunted. "And return from where?"
  
  "I thought that was evident. It is a place where there is no light to guide you to your destination."
  
  21 December 2006, Ogygia
  
  Hera had wondered from the moment she landed why Jackson had bothered invading the Spa of this bitch of Circe if he had already a means to send her here directly.
  
  The answer now was limpid.
  
  The infernal son of Poseidon had made a detour to steal some of Helios' old flames!
  
  And it had worked.
  
  It had burned his hand horribly despite every protection he had, but it worked. In the ephemeral light triggered by the flames of the faded Titan, you could easily count hundreds of Strixes' corpses.
  
  "Jackson..." telling him he was mad would be extremely redundant. And in the end, there was a more important point to make. And it was one which was essential for her survival. "I recognise your...ah...audacious strategy, but surely it must have alerted Olympus something very wrong is occurring on Ogygia."
  
  "Yes, of course. I think we have five minutes top before the God of Travellers is sent in our direction, no matter how distracting other important events can be for the Council."
  
  "Of course," Hera said it in a grim voice, but it seemed to amuse the mad Demigod. "It would be better for us to not be here when the God of Thieves or whoever is sent arrives."
  
  "Assuredly," the leader of the Suicide Squad had a lot of fun with her being the dark, it went without saying.
  
  "There is no exit." She tried to continue without showing her annoyance. "The magical raft is the only way to get out of Ogygia, and in the unlikely case we could summon it, it would leave us at the mercy of Olympus the moment we got past the limits of the island's enchantments."
  
  Given what Perseus had already engineered during this Great Quest, Hera had no doubt that the Master Bolt strikes would come first, and the questions later.
  
  "Using the raft would result in striping me of my immortality and my powers," the extremely dangerous Titaness scowled.
  
  "Technically, from I was able to perceive, using any conventional or unconventional means of transport to leave Ogygia would do the same to you." Perseus intervened. "I can't test it, but I'm close to certain it is the case. And it would likely strip me of a few advantages I gained over the years too."
  
  Hera opened wide her eyes. If it was the case, she didn't remember it...but then it hadn't been her power which had separated Ogygia from the rest of the world.
  
  Perseus Jackson chuckled. This wasn't reassuring at all.
  
  "I thought it was evident. There is a boundary, and the Olympians made a contingency plan to be really, really sure that Lady Calypso never escaped. It is a different problem than the one we faced to enter the Sea of Monsters, but the problem remains the same."
  
  Hera gaped, absolutely speechless.
  
  "No, NO! You don't mean-"
  
  "Yes, we have to return to Hell. One more time."
  
  Yes, this was exactly what she had feared.
  
  "This is...audacious." Calypso commented, showing no emotion at all on her young visage. "And I doubt the Master of the Underworld is going to be amused by the trespassing."
  
  "Bah, my Lord Uncle owes me a few favours, and he's really busy right now."
  
  Listening to that, you might almost think a certain Demigod spoke of pocket money, not of a dramatic entrance into the Underworld...again.
  
  "I suppose there is a plan beyond that." The Mistress of Ogygia was not commanding, but there was strength beneath that voice, and it gave Hera very bad vibes.
  
  "Of course," Perseus shrugged. "One hour ago, I confirmed my suspicions: Circe has an active Labyrinth Gate on her Spa Island. I think that by negotiating well, it shouldn't be too difficult to convince her immortal half-sister to let us cross the realm of the Labyrinth. Therefore the only real challenge is to enter Hell and find a Labyrinth Gate like we used last time. We evade the welcoming committee, and we escape the charming Fields of the Underworld."
  
  This raised a few disturbing questions.
  
  But the biggest one flashed into her mind with the fury of a super-weapon.
  
  How many steps ahead from everyone was Perseus Jackson?
  
  "I am extremely unhappy to know that the Olympians had a contingency ready to throw me into the Underworld in case I was seriously at risk of escaping." Calypso admitted.
  
  "In the interest to be accurate, I don't think they informed my Lord Uncle of that slight alteration to your current accommodations." Perseus' smile was an ugly, vicious thing. "But rest assured I will inform them as soon as I can write him a letter of apologies. Oh, and please go pack everything you need, Lady Calypso. I don't think returning will be an option."
  
  The Titaness bowed and rushed to her house, and damn, she was fast by the standards of Demigoddesses!
  
  "Now let's see..."
  
  Perseus drew a sword Hera had no problem to recognise.
  
  It was the ugly slab of Stygian Iron shaped into a sword that he had wielded in the Underworld.
  
  "I am Perseus Jackson, Tyrant of the Suicide Squad," the madman laughed, "and I say my Rule extends to the Hell Gates I have passed and will enter. Hear me, servants of Olympus. The Age of Folly has just begun! REND!"
  
  He swung his sword once.
  
  But once was all that was needed.
  
  A black fissure opened up in the golden sands, swallowing many corpses of Strixes in a voracious manner, and the more corpses which disappeared, the larger the breach was.
  
  Soon there was a long and instable rectangular pit of darkness absorbing sand and monster parts. It was something that shouldn't exist. It seemed to repel the light of the stars above their heads.
  
  Hera couldn't believe it, but it was there. And before her eyes, stairs of black granite formed.
  
  "Extremely impressive."
  
  Hera almost jumped, for in her amazement, she had forgotten Calypso.
  
  But the Titaness was already back.
  
  She was back...but everything about her had changed.
  
  It was still the same being, but the chiton had been discarded and black armour with crimson stripes she'd hoped to never see again had replaced it. Yes, the Glyphs of destruction burned on this protection, and the helmet was shaped like a Drakonic skull.
  
  Calypso almost looked like Athena...but an Athena who revelled in destruction and carnage unending.
  
  "The compliment is appreciated." Perseus nodded, and this time there was no cheekiness. He didn't return the sword of Stygian Iron to its scabbard, however.
  
  And then the sound Hera had hoped to not hear so soon arrived.
  
  The sky above Ogygia began to rumble.
  
  The thunder clouds were coming.
  
  "It seems they've realised something wrong is happening to their special prison." The son of Poseidon stepped forwards. "Fortunately, they're a bit too late. Shall we, Ladies?"
  
  This wasn't like they had a lot of choice, right?
  
  Things were definitely bad when going to Hell in a very mortal body was the best option you had!
  
  21 December 2006, somewhere in Hell
  
  There was a proverb the humans of this world had made about plans never surviving contact with the enemy.
  
  In this case, the plan didn't manage to reach that beautiful threshold.
  
  Perseus grimaced as his magical compass began to imitate a spinning-top as soon as he opened it.
  
  "We have a problem."
  
  "Is it possible your device is broken?"
  
  "No." The former Tyrant shook his head. "I put very solid markers on the Labyrinth Gate we used in a previous adventure. The red arrow of my compass should indicate me the direction of the closest Labyrinth Gate and how many kilometres separate us from it. For 'my device', as you put it, to not function, the markers must have faded. That should be impossible, not enough time has passed since our First Great Quest."
  
  "Does it mean we are lost?" Of course Hera had to ask that...
  
  "There is a single tunnel, Hera. We have only two directions to choose from, and one was flooded with liquid fire. I wouldn't say we are lost; we are extremely close to the Styx Sea, unless for some reason someone built an aqueduct to transport the dangerous substance elsewhere."
  
  But no, it wasn't good news.
  
  The next minutes confirmed it. When arriving in larger caverns, the ground began to spat fire balls, and monsters came in droves to kill them.
  
  And this was not the old and stupid skeletons they had vanquished during their first journey across the Underworld. Several of the skeletons were jumping and launching gusts of air blades. Other brought bags of very powerful fire-based grenades. All seemed to have the capacity to dig and emplace traps.
  
  Plus one had to account for the hellish warmth of the magma.
  
  It was really, really hot in these tunnels and caverns. Calypso and he were sweating hard.
  
  Hera...Hera was on the brink of exhaustion. They had to find an exit soon.
  
  Unfortunately, there weren't exactly a lot of alternatives offered. In fact, there were none. The tunnels between each cavern were carved into a sort of black granite that Perseus had not the power to break through. There was no offer to 'turn right' or 'turn left'.
  
  It was in the last cavern they visited that he got his clue of why they were imposed those trials.
  
  EMERGENCY MEASURES SECURITY ZONE: TESTING THE DEFENCES OF THE UNDERWORLD FOR A BETTER DEFENDED REALM SINCE 2020!
  
  "Jackson! What does that mean?"
  
  "It means that my Rend wasn't precise enough, or Fate wants to kill me. Or both." The male Demigod replied seriously. "For whatever reason, we are once again in a future layer of what the Underworld could be, much like the one we crossed when we entered the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "This is going to cause some challenges." Calypso declared neutrally.
  
  Yes, yes it was. The biggest 'challenge' being that unless they returned to Ogygia, there was no gate this time to reach the correct 'when'. This time, only a single breach had been made. He hadn't the power to do more on his own, anyway.
  
  "We must press on." It wasn't like they had a choice, given that the alternative was Zeus incinerating them for the sake of his world-sized ego.
  
  Three more caverns waited for them, some of them introducing boulder-shaped monsters which towered over the melee before falling in attempts to crush them under their monumental weights. There were parodies of Charon's boats, which more than once led them to unwanted regattas over the boiling liquid-flames.
  
  And all the while, the atmosphere around them was hot and oppressing. There was something terrible and dangerous watching them, Perseus was sure of it now.
  
  Without Calypso, he wouldn't have been able to progress so far. He had to defend Hera, and that was a weakness the monsters were prompt to notice and exploit. Fortunately, the former Titaness of Drakons was a storm of destruction in her own right. Between her spear and her shield, the hordes of Underworld monsters died in droves.
  
  "There's a stairs of bones."
  
  "Whoever did this, he had the sense of the spectacle," the leader of the Suicide Squad said cheerfully, though he didn't really feel it. "Let's see where it leads us."
  
  But as soon as all six feet were on the stairs, an earthquake shook the cavern. In a couple of seconds, the 'stairs' began to change into a toboggan.
  
  "I should be the only one allowed to do that!"
  
  And then there was only enjoying the descent.
  
  It was a session of gliding which lasted many, many minutes.
  
  To his pleasant surprise, there weren't many traps, like wrong turns that would send you into pits filled with metallic spikes or something unpleasant.
  
  But when they reached the bottom, Perseus had to admit the architects didn't really need that.
  
  The toboggan spat them above a rather large island in an even bigger cavern than those they had left previously. The issue? It was entirely surrounded with lava.
  
  And of course, there was no exit to get out of here...
  
  A forceful hiss put these thoughts to halt.
  
  "Oh, no," Hera mumbled. "Oh, no..."
  
  There were many more hisses, and then an enormous skeletal head came out of the inferno.
  
  It was followed by metres of a skeleton that could only belong to a snake.
  
  That would have been bad enough, but in short order, two more heads looking very much like the first arrived on the left and the right of the revealed monster.
  
  "The Lernaean Hydra...or it is the Bone Underworld Hydra now?"
  
  The terrible hiss from the three heads told him his tirade was not appreciated in the least.
  
  "How do we kill it?" Calypso asked, with an avid expression on her face. Yes, rumours about her battle-lust hadn't been exaggerated.
  
  "We must crush the heads. Normally we should have burned them, but this time there's no hope to achieve that; whoever made this arena gave it immunity to the magma and the rest of the flames."
  
  Of course, the Hydra could hear or sense what they were saying, and attacked.
  
  This was when they realised that while the first head was spitting fire, the others had different attacks. One was the air-blast of the skeletons they had fought previously, except bigger and more devastating. And the other was disgorging skeletons and other monsters.
  
  Calypso went on the attack. Her spear massacred all the monsters, and in a terrible onslaught, slew one head like it was nothing but a minor nuisance.
  
  For a second, Perseus really believed they had a chance.
  
  And then two heads surfaced out of the lava to replace their fallen 'sister-head'.
  
  From then everything went to hell, and it wasn't a bad pun.
  
  There were more and more Hydra heads, and the attacks came from every direction.
  
  As he needed to protect the ex-Goddess, Perseus began to receive hits. Most of them weren't powerful enough to go through his skin or inflict even minor damage, but they hurt and slowed him down. Oh, and they destroyed his armour too.
  
  Whoever had designed this arena was a sadist of the highest order. There were now nine heads, and all had a different special attack. If Hercules had fought that monster, he would certainly have died, help or no help!
  
  They were now fully on the defensive now. Even Calypso couldn't go after the heads, not that it mattered much, since having an increase of the heads was very much something they didn't need!
  
  And suddenly, for no visible reason, the nine heads of the Hydra turned towards a single point and hissed in fury.
  
  A heartbeat later, there was a ray of red and dark, and the first head exploded.
  
  Then another was atomised, pulverised so much it became a rain of bone fragments.
  
  And for the time, the 'Bone Hydra' didn't regenerate.
  
  What followed was a one-sided massacre. The newcomer was incredibly fast, and danced around the Hydra like he had done it thousands of times. The Hydra stood no chance.
  
  In less than two minutes, the last skeletal head and part of the Hydra body disappeared into the magma flow, utterly defeated.
  
  And the victorious party at last slowed down, allowing Perseus to see their saviour for the first time.
  
  It was a young-looking teenager, with curious-looking heterochromatic eyes: one was black was the other was red. Since his clothes of red and black were insufficient to hide most of his chest, the son of Poseidon saw immediately that in terms of muscle, Grant was completely outmatched. Overall, aside from a few skulls and other familiar decorations of the Underworld, it wasn't that strange. The most confusing part were the golden laurels upon his rather unkempt black hair. They shone with an energy which somehow resonated with Perseus' body. But that was impossible, the former Tyrant had never seen-
  
  "Yo, Uncle!" their young saviour said cheerfully, revealing that he wasn't a young man, but rather a very young God. "It's been a while since we played 'emergency measures' together!"
  
  "I'm afraid this is the first time we meet, from my perspective," Perseus admitted. It was better to admit the truth here and there, for once.
  
  "Oh come on, it's me, Zagreus! We played in the Great Bazaar of..." the young God paused, examining properly for the first time. Whatever he did search in him, he didn't find it. "Oh. This is one of your 'Underworld intrusions' of the past, right?"
  
  "I'm afraid so. We jumped into the wrong layer of the Underworld, it appears." A few seconds were all it took to 'taste' the power of the young God. "You are Hades and Persephone's son."
  
  And Zagreus was extremely powerful for such a young God. Granted, with a father like Hades, and now Persephone imbued with enough power to hold a seat on the Council of Olympus, it was a logical outcome, but-
  
  "Yes, and you were proclaimed 'honorary uncle' long ago. The fun we had when you did-"
  
  "Zagreus, STOP! He's from the past, you are not to reveal the future to him!"
  
  There was a flash and a sensation of absolute cold.
  
  Perseus blinked.
  
  When he was able to refocus again, a Goddess had joined Zagreus.
  
  Anyone who could use his eyes would recognise the two were siblings.
  
  The facial traits were majestic and had a terrible darkness in them.
  
  Unlike her brother, however, one of her eyes was blue instead of red.
  
  The weapons differed too. Zagreus had arrived wielding a long sword of red-black. The newcomer had a dagger and a miniature scythe cloaked in a shroud of blue snowflakes.
  
  And if her brother's hair were pure black, hers were the white of a pristine snow.
  
  Add the information which had already been uttered, and Perseus could guess who she was.
  
  "And your half-sister is the daughter of Khione, I suppose."
  
  "I am," the young Goddess nodded. "I am Melinoë, Princess of the Underworld. You are not supposed to be here, Uncle."
  
  Ah! So he was honorary uncle for both in a certain future? This became better and better...
  
  "I know." He answered truthfully. "I'm searching the closest Labyrinth Gate to return to C.C's Spa and Resort. If you would be so obliging as to lead me to it-"
  
  "No. You must be by our parents' side."
  
  Perseus, for the first time since he had entered the Underworld, chuckled.
  
  "Dear Princess," the Tyrant of the Suicide Squad began, "your parents are busy settling their differences before they agree upon which terms they want for their marriage vows. It is very much not the place I want to be near to. I am a strong Demigod, but we're awfully squishy when Gods begin fighting seriously."
  
  "And yet you took Hera in mortal form with you."
  
  Khione's daughter, unfortunately, had forgotten to be stupid. Though it must be said she also had knowledge of the future he lacked.
  
  "Is my intervention going to be really necessary?"
  
  "Yes," Zagreus and Melinoë replied with a single voice.
  
  Perseus turned his head to give a silent question to Calypso.
  
  The daughter of Atlas grimaced.
  
  "We can't afford to fight many more battles like this one."
  
  The two young deities tried to hide it, but they had given a few admiring glances to Calypso when they thought he wasn't watching.
  
  It was funny that they ignored Hera, by comparison. Whatever happened in the future, it seemed the former Queen of the Gods was at best tolerated in the Underworld.
  
  "Very well," Perseus agreed, and Zagreus smiled like only a young friendly nephew would to his beloved 'Uncle'. "But I need Cerberus, if I am to arrive in time."
  
  The son of Hades scratched his head in a very embarrassed manner.
  
  "Ah, I haven't collected a bag of Satyr entrails today..."
  
  Sometimes later, Perseus would wonder what great evil the Satyrs did in the next years so that Cerberus felt happy to eat them regularly.
  
  But it would have to wait.
  
  There were more important things to worry about for now.
  
  "CERBERUS! MY ETERNAL THREE-HEADED DOG FRIEND! IN EXCHANGE FOR LIMITED SERVICES ON YOUR PART, I PROMISE YOU A VIP SPA SESSION WITH PLENTY OF SHAMPOO AND A SMALL ARMY OF PEOPLE TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SUPERB FUR!"
  
  "WOOOOOF!"
  
  And as if the good boy had been listening to this conversation, the great guardian of Hades' realm materialised in the cavern, ready to play his part.
  
  It didn't escape his attention that Cerberus also barked in joy when Calypso caressed his left head.
  
  "Run Cerberus!" The green-eyed Demigod commanded once the three had climbed on the back of the enormous three-headed dog. "Show us the meaning of haste!"
  
  Cerberus obeyed, and then they had all to hold on for their very lives.
  
  But they didn't go so fast as to not hear the last words of Melinoë.
  
  "Mother was right, he was already crazy when he was mortal..."
  
  21 December 2006, the Underworld
  
  For the first hour or so, the entire battle had not been so bad.
  
  Sure, Jade had almost died three times.
  
  She didn't know who had offered this damned sniper rifle to Prince Hector, but the ex-Huntress would definitely murder him the moment she found out his name.
  
  Unlike Achilles, who had thrown himself in an insane close-quarters fight with Drew, the Trojan Hero was happy to fire at her at incredible long distances, and so far, only the regeneration powers Khione had given her had made sure she survived.
  
  It was nothing, of course, compared to the 'marital affair'.
  
  It had begun with Khione drowning the black arena into an ocean of ice, and it had gone downhill from there.
  
  Now, she was the Champion of Khione, so she was supposed to say her Goddess wasn't losing against Hades.
  
  Unfortunately, the Goddess of Ice Drakons wasn't winning either.
  
  Somehow, Hades was always emerging unscathed from each terrible assault. Somehow, the King of Hell was always there, emerging from the shadows, his weapons bristling with dark power, ready to strike with an improbable angle.
  
  And that was when he simply didn't turn invisible and opened large pits under the Goddesses' feet.
  
  But it had been a reasonable battle. Or at least it had felt to her it was reasonable.
  
  All of that completely ended when Tartarus began to stir.
  
  Where there had been only servants of Persephone, Hades, or Khione fighting, the infernal Primordial of the Pit spat armies of monsters. And not just unimportant souls and a few thousand skeletons.
  
  The onslaught had begun with immensely-tall Cyclops, and there were Hydras and Giants following behind them.
  
  "Lady Khione-" Jade began, only for Prince Hector interrupted immediately.
  
  "Your Mistress and my Lord will try to calm the Pit!" The Trojan hero barked. "Focus on the monsters, we need to stop them from ravaging the Underworld!"
  
  "Doing more damage, you mean," the former Huntress growled before transforming once again into her full Drakonic form and unleashing an ice ray.
  
  To her satisfaction, more than a thousand monsters were instantly wiped out.
  
  The imminent threats dealt with, Jade returned to her mostly-human form.
  
  In the mean time, the God and the Goddesses had stopped fighting, and were plunging their hands into some sort of black sludge.
  
  It didn't sound awesome to look at, but the sheer power spreading across the very fabric of the Underworld radiated like a million tendrils of shadow.
  
  "Is it something which happens frequently?" Jade asked after using her bow to kill five Cyclops with as many arrows. "You know, since we are going to spend a lot of our time here, my comrades and I may want to be on alert for extraordinary stuff."
  
  "The Pit stirs once or twice every century," Hector replied, his eyes cold and determined, each word accompanied by a deadly shot which annihilated several monsters. "But instances where it feels angry enough to teleport enough monsters here to overwhelm the first line of defences are far rarer. And most of this assault doesn't feel like the Pit at all."
  
  "From where I'm looking, these are monsters reforming by the power of the Pit."
  
  "Yes. But the assault is far too well-organised. Oh, I don't doubt the Pit gleefully vomited its children to cause trouble. But there is something behind it, a presence I don't remember ever facing during my long career here..."
  
  This was particularly worrying, because the Prince of Troy had been in service of Hades for more than two millennia at this point.
  
  And the time three powerful immortals were taking to 'calm' the Pit and re-establish the power over this realm was not exactly something that made to reassure her mind either.
  
  Jade fired ice arrows after ice arrows nonetheless.
  
  No matter how many monsters the Pit could conjure, the fact was that they had just to kill them the old-fashioned way. For now, Drew had once again become a living weapon of blades and silver colour, and she was carving herself a path into the horde, with Achilles not far behind her. Many monsters killed themselves when the daughter of Aphrodite told them to; that was how powerful the Asian-looking Demigoddess had become.
  
  The monster army simply had too little firepower, and the unfavourable balance worsened as more skeletons and other shades of the dead gathered by the hundreds of thousands, answering Hades' call-to-arms.
  
  And then it changed.
  
  The first thing they heard was the roar.
  
  Then it came out of the night like a nightmare.
  
  It could be mistaken at first for a gigantic snake.
  
  But it was not a snake.
  
  "Drakon," Jade spat in anger.
  
  "A Lydian Drakon, to be precise," Hector informed her. "Why the hatred, by the way? Your Mistress is the Goddess of Ice Drakons now."
  
  "I...I don't know." Jade admitted. Why was she feeling that way? "There is something wrong with this Drakon. I can't tell you what, but it is something that angers me."
  
  "That's interesting, but it can wait. Let's kill it first-"
  
  That was when the Drakon roared again and attacked. And as the first seconds made clear, the weapons, no matter how ancient or modern, simply had no effect against this kind of opponent. It seemed as it was made of shadows, and the arrows and bullets simply went across it without causing it any damage.
  
  But when it unleashed a shockwave, both Drew and Achilles felt it. The pair was projected hundreds of metres away, alive, but definitely weakened by the attack.
  
  The next minutes didn't get any better.
  
  The Drakon advanced slowly, but nothing seemed to capable of stopping it.
  
  The lines of defences collapsed, and the Drakon acted as a spearhead for the rest of the Pit hordes. It was an unsubtle assault, but it consumed thousands of dead warriors with every second and it was coming straight for her Mistress and the two other immortals.
  
  "I am going to transform it again." Part of her felt the thrill of fighting such a dangerous opponent. The other part knew that it was going to be her true death this time, the demise which would bound her permanently to the Underworld. "With Jade as a Drakon too maybe we will able to slow it down-"
  
  A loud and joyous canine bark interrupted her.
  
  There was an enormous explosion, and the entire right flank of the Tartarus-born army was annihilated.
  
  And as the dust and the dark ashes of the explosions temporarily faded away, Jade felt she had suddenly hallucinations.
  
  He couldn't be here.
  
  That was just impossible, even by his standards.
  
  That was just-
  
  It had to be the exhaustion. Or maybe Tartarus had decided to release some gas inducing hallucinations?
  
  "Prince Hector, I believe I'm cursed," the former Huntress said.
  
  "Because you're seeing Perseus Jackson riding Cerberus with two of your companions?" the Trojan sighed. "Don't worry, you are not crazy. I'm seeing them too."
  
  The army vomited by the Pit didn't stand a chance. They had been flanked, and Cerberus was a massive engine of destruction which needed no help to destroy an entire army. Each head was breaking countless monsters faster than you could say it, trampling Hydras and Cyclops like they were nothing, and biting Giants which didn't run away fast enough.
  
  The Drakon turned, at last realising the danger posed by the arrival of these 'reinforcements'.
  
  It was too late.
  
  Cerberus slammed into the unnatural Drakon, and once the Guardian of the Underworld's three heads had something in their three maws, they didn't let it go.
  
  This was all two out of three riders of Cerberus needed.
  
  There was a terrible shriek, and then suddenly a small object went flying...and a second later, the head of the terrible Lydian Drakon burned in golden flames.
  
  It didn't last long...but for a few seconds, the Underworld was illuminated by the flames of the Sun.
  
  Jade didn't know how it was possible, but she knew instinctively this was it.
  
  The Lydian Drakon died, and the hordes of Tartarus disintegrated it.
  
  The Champion of Khione began to run.
  
  She was fast enough to arrive as a certain son of Poseidon's feet touched the scarred and corpses-covered soil of the Underworld.
  
  And of course, the moment he saw it was her, the mad Demigod grinned.
  
  "Sorry, I'm late. But in my defence, I was preparing Cerberus for his annual visit to the spa, and a black cat crossed my path, so we had to take a detour. It may have involved stealing the sun, making some surrender promises, organising an escape attempt across time, and testing the emergency responses measures of a Hydra before enjoying a bonding session with my nephew and my niece."
  
  Yes, it was him. Would Khione be displeased if she tried to strangle him while nobody was looking?
  
  Calypso had to admit it; she was impressed by the calm Perseus Jackson showed when facing Hades and two other Goddesses. It took some guts to advance and salute immortals like you were old friends.
  
  Well, it was that or the Demigod was completely insane.
  
  The list of exploits accomplished since he had arrived on Ogygia was leading her to think the black-haired son of Poseidon was one of those souls who just wanted to set everything on fire and enjoy the chaos born of it.
  
  "Lord Uncle."
  
  "Nephew." Hades had changed, and not just because he had adopted a muscular and awe-inducing appearance today. His cadaveric face was nowhere in sight, and with two Goddesses by his side and a terrifying grin, one could almost have mistaken him for Zeus standing triumphant after a battle. "Did you know I already have half a hundred letters from Olympus requesting your arrest and immediate transfer to the Council's custody?"
  
  "No, Lord Uncle! It is a shocking development. I am as astonished as you are by this outcome!"
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite - or at least the soul born as a daughter of Aphrodite - burst into laughter after that, and several dozen spectators of this improvised audience followed.
  
  "You are a scoundrel who loves nothing better than to enrage my little brother," Hades corrected. "If you seriously intended to gain the good graces of the Master of Olympus, you would have been busy attacking Forge MP-42 as we speak. Breaking the chains of the God of Forges may have given you some support."
  
  If these words had been supposed to put an apologetic expression on a Demigod's face, they utterly failed. Perseus Jackson was clearly unrepentant.
  
  "Come on, Lord Uncle. How was I supposed to attack Forge MP-42 and survive in the first place? I needed someone to make sure the odds are not equal to zero. I had to free her."
  
  This, in turn, guaranteed the eyes burning in black flames turned towards her quickly after that.
  
  "Lady Calypso." The son of Rhea saluted her.
  
  "Lord Hades."
  
  "My little brother wants you to return to your prison."
  
  "I'd rather die," the Titaness answered bluntly. "Did you know that your brother and his children had the gall to make me believe my mother and my siblings refused to visit me, while in reality the hypocrites-in-charge had forbidden it? And this despite the numerous oaths which were sworn at the end of the war we lost?"
  
  "I was aware, yes. But my opinion was not listened to. What do I know, after all? I am merely the jailor of many dead Titans and Elder Giants! What do I know of the bitterness and hatred many immortals feel when they are cheated out of the very blessings that should be theirs by birth, oath, and hard work?"
  
  Calypso wanted to say she was surprised, but honestly...she was not.
  
  Zeus was exactly a less cruel version of his genitor; overthrowing Kronos had in that regard not changed much. And it apparently included needlessly antagonising all his siblings, no matter how powerful they were.
  
  "I will not force you to return to your prison." The God of the Underworld said after a brief period of silence. "But if you return to the realm of the Living, know that your return will trigger a major war."
  
  "My mother is already at war with Olympus."
  
  Hades sighed, shook his head, and turned to meet the eyes of the third member of their group.
  
  "Hello, Hera."
  
  "Brother." Zeus' wife, predictably, did not close her mouth after the opening courtesies. "Are you satisfied now?"
  
  "I did not ask Zeus to deprive you of most of your divine essence," the Lord of the Dead replied. "But I have to admit it did marvels for your humility, even if there are still a lot of improvements to wait for in that regard."
  
  "I...I shouldn't have helped the Lightning Thief. I was angry, but you were one of the few which did nothing to me and stayed faithful to his wife for seventy years. I shouldn't have done what I did. I'm sorry, brother."
  
  "I accept your apologies, sister." And then the Master of the Underworld Riches once more stared at Perseus Jackson.
  
  The eyes burning black flames didn't change, but a silent question was clearly asked.
  
  "Your Lady Sister, Lord Uncle, is obviously trapped inside a mortal body. Yet for stupid reasons I can't pretend to understand, Olympus failed to even assign a temporary replacement to the Domain of Marriages. The conclusion is thus simple and formidable: Hera here is still the Goddess who has to give her approval for divine unions!"
  
  Many witnesses instantly stopped laughing. Expressions varied from mere surprise to complete astonishment.
  
  Hades stared unflinchingly. The two Goddesses by his side were far more emotional. And the expressions they gave Hera were decidedly not friendly.
  
  "I am angry with my little brother. But not so angry as to challenge outright his edict and give enough power to my sister so she can storm the gates of Olympus and burn his favourite temple."
  
  "I was not promising something so amusing, Lord Uncle," though given the maniacal grin on his face, Calypso knew that if it had happened, Perseus Jackson would not have tried to stop it. "My solution was far more of the nature of compromise. Assuming you intend to marry those two lovely Ladies here, they have a few Mantles of Power that will be completely useless to them, as they will be staying in the Underworld with you. Lady Khione holds Winter and Lady Persephone Spring."
  
  Nothing more was said, but it instantly forced her to watch Perseus Jackson with a far more respectful eye. For how long had he been planning this?
  
  The expression of Hades was different, but it appeared that like her, he had realised where it was leading.
  
  "Are you telling me, nephew, that you want to engineer a second Apotheosis of my sister, but this time as a Goddess of Seasons, with Marriages building the initial foundation?"
  
  There was definitely a few seconds where it felt that the time stopped for the Underworld and other planes of existence.
  
  "Yes." Perseus Jackson answered honestly.
  
  "Good. You have my blessing to do so."
  
  "HADES!" An outraged ex-Goddess shouted.
  
  "This move has my support," the Goddess called Persephone smiled evilly, her red eyes burning in amusement. "I don't care about Spring anymore."
  
  "I can shed Winter," the icy beauty who turned her hair from black to pure white next to her mused. "After all, Mantle or not, a new Goddess of Seasons will still need my help to freeze the mountains and open all the ski stations!"
  
  "You will owe me," the grumble was very Hera-like, for once.
  
  "It seems we are all in agreement, then." Hades commented drily. "If someone has an objection, I suppose it is now to speak, or forever hold your peace."
  
  "I OBJECT."
  
  Calypso, for the first time in an eternity, felt fear.
  
  All the lights of the Underworld flickered out.
  
  The oppressive presence they had felt before in the tunnels was back, but far, far more powerful.
  
  It was oppressive and yet familiar.
  
  It was the obscurity and the monsters which were born into its depths.
  
  It was the Night.
  
  There were things that you could fairly call 'coincidences'.
  
  If it happened once, as a rule, Perseus felt it could apply.
  
  Two, though?
  
  Forget it.
  
  The intervention of two Primordials separated by only mere days and for the same Great Quest broke the very idea of coincidence.
  
  It was very much deliberate.
  
  And if they survived, he would have had to make permanent plans to account for Primordials' interventions during his operations from now on.
  
  The former Tyrant shivered, and his limbs began to shape in an uncontrollable fashion.
  
  Yes, he was afraid.
  
  According to the legends, the Primordial of Night sometimes fancied taking a humane appearance when she was in good spirits.
  
  Perseus hoped this wasn't true, because the Avatar advancing right now was not human at all.
  
  It was the reason why you feared the Dark so much.
  
  It was the nightmare which every child feared to hide under his or her bed.
  
  It was a vaguely humanoid shape which had stolen several cold and distant stars from the firmament to add them to an immortal essence.
  
  The further the Primordial's Avatar, the more things were wrong. Where hands and feet should be, there were only lithe talons. The construct had traces of feminine influence, but it was twisted, inhuman. It levitated, and the long tentacles were in reality tendrils of night. And there was no face, but a thing shaped like a mask...
  
  Perseus shook his head and looked away, before making sure Hera did the same. Just in time, by the way, the ex-Goddess was beginning to hyperventilate.
  
  "Nyx," Hades said in a resigned voice. "This is a private matter."
  
  "It is not if you intend to tolerate the Light in your Domain," the Avatar of the Night answered in a voice that was the coming of darkness turned into sound. "I could tolerate your future wives being reborn by Earth's hand. I will not tolerate the Night being weakened here."
  
  "It is my realm, Nyx."
  
  "The Underworld is part of my Domain, Hades."
  
  There was a shrieking sound, and half of the monuments visible in the distance imploded in a deflagration which shook Hell again, before suddenly transforming themselves into a rain of crystals.
  
  It was bloody terrifying, when you know the infighting between several Gods had not managed to damage them before...
  
  Perseus cleared his throat.
  
  "With due respect, oh Lady of All Nights, there are no sun or moonlight here. Fire and Ice are only providing a tiny bit of illumination. Surely-"
  
  The ocean of power engulfed everything. It was oily and black. It was his fears made manifest, it was-
  
  It took him several seconds to realise he had been screaming and falling to his knees.
  
  "Nyx," Hades warned.
  
  "The Demigod is still alive." And she was very much disappointed about that.
  
  "Nyx!"
  
  Turning his head, it was clear that Persephone and Khione had donned crimson-black and blue-white armours and summoned long spears again.
  
  It could have been reassuring, if the opponent wasn't a monster beyond them.
  
  "Let me devour them, Hades," the Night didn't threaten, it hungered. "These three have now cut the threads the Fates had prepared for them."
  
  "The Fates would have been content to let me an exile far away from Olympus while my brother's gigantic ego would unavoidably lead to disaster."
  
  The green-eyed Demigod tried to think of something that could save his own skin, along with Calypso's and Hera's. He didn't find much. The Primordials were so above Titans and Gods no one sane or insane considered fighting them for good reason.
  
  "If I let them go, they will once again intervene in this realm. They will bring Light." You could feel the hatred of the Avatar for the last word. "Don't tell me you don't feel it, Hades. This one has been touched by the Sun! And he dared using Helios' flames here!"
  
  "Only after you incited Tartarus to send an army against me, Nyx."
  
  That was very well-done. Unfortunately, they weren't in a philosophical school. Worse, Perseus suspected the notions of 'right' and 'wrong' weren't a Primordial's first, second, or third priority.
  
  Perseus cleared his throat.
  
  "I could swear an Oath on the Styx, Lady of All Nights. To never return and not interfere for the rest of my mortal life, I mean."
  
  To his relief, his proposal was seriously considered.
  
  "It is not enough." The Avatar replied...somehow. It had certainly no mouth visible...NO! No, focus, focus on something else!
  
  "You are too insolent, too inventive. If I let you live, sooner or later, you will open a permanent gate which will let the Light inundate this realm. This is unacceptable. I prefer to devour your soul."
  
  In normal circumstances, the former Tyrant would have sworn he had no intention to do that.
  
  Unfortunately, it would have been a lie, and the punishment would have been eternal.
  
  The oppressive power of the Primordial forced him to abandon this train of thought.
  
  Night was more and more pouring into the Underworld, and soon, all would be lost.
  
  Past a certain point, it wouldn't matter how willing Hades and other forces were to defend him, for mortals couldn't survive the Night. They were already to have big physical problems if they managed to return to the Spa, and he wasn't eager to find out the details of the health problems it would bring.
  
  "In that case, I invoke the Ancient Laws to defend my honour."
  
  When in doubt, cheating outrageously was the way.
  
  The Night receded. He had managed to surprise the Primordial.
  
  "There are many Laws. Which ones are you referring to, Demigod?"
  
  Perseus breathed out and then voiced one of the most audacious plans he'd ever said in his second life.
  
  "I demand a Trial by Champion!"
  
  21 December 2006, Approaches of the Abyss of Night, the Underworld
  
  "I want you to know this is completely insane, even by your usual standards!" Hera whispered angrily.
  
  "There's no need to whisper, you know. They can hear you no matter what," Jackson climbed the next steps leading to the improvised arena.
  
  "Thank you for the reminder."
  
  The last steps were done in complete silence, and they took their place on one side of the arena.
  
  It was really an imposing name for something dark and devoid of any imposing decorations.
  
  There was no stadium around it to make the significance of the location.
  
  They were on top of a vast plateau which appeared to be made entirely of obsidian.
  
  A rectangle had been carved deep into the rock to mark the limits of the arena.
  
  There was another delimitation to indicate where the 'middle' was.
  
  That was all.
  
  That was the place they were all going to die. And yes, the Primordial had only promised to kill Perseus Jackson, but Hera was sure the Night was not going to be satisfied with just one appetiser.
  
  "I don't know why we're playing this charade anyway." The former Queen of the Gods still decided to whisper, no matter what he said. "She is going to name herself as her own Champion."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, please." Perseus retorted. "A Primordial taking the field against the Champion of a mere Demigod? That would be like a member of the Suicide Squad deciding to go in person fight a very tiny insect."
  
  Several hundred metres away, a massive monster shaped like a horse and radiating darkness came forwards.
  
  "Oh. Err...in that case, why you didn't challenge her like that right away?"
  
  "I am not the only one who can use the Ancient Laws to his advantage." The son of Poseidon spoke with a very dark expression she'd almost never seen on his face. He cleared his throat, and the next words were shouted for all to hear. "CERBERUS! I CHOOSE YOU!"
  
  Hera turned...and no giant three-headed dog appeared to answer the call.
  
  The Avatar of the Night, a form which had grown up to over ten metres while they were transported to this desolate part of the Underworld, laughed.
  
  "If the Champion does not come soon, it will count as a forfeit of the challenger."
  
  Perseus sighed. But he did not seem very surprised.
  
  "I know he was way too lazy to be reliable."
  
  "What are you going to do?"
  
  "Bribe him, of course." The leader of the Suicide Squad said it like it was evidence itself. A package which had been nowhere to be seen an instant ago was suddenly there in front of them, and Perseus drew from it what had to be a massive bone. "CERBERUS! MY ETERNAL FRIEND! IF YOU FIGHT FOR MY CAUSE, THIS PRIME BONE OF THE GREAT DRAKON FIMBULVETR IS FOR YOU!"
  
  This was insane. There was no way it was going to work. No matter if the Drakon bone was getting bigger and bigger in front of them, there was just no way the most loyal dog of Hades' realm was going to succumb again to such vile-
  
  "WOOOOOOFFFF!"
  
  A very pungent smell of dog slammed in her nose, and suddenly the bone was voraciously attacked by one out of three gigantic heads.
  
  "This is an official fight of the Underworld League! The ruling Mistress of the Night has chosen Shadow as her Champion! The Challenger has chosen Mega-Cerberus as his Champion!"
  
  Wait, why the 'mega'?
  
  And this was when Hera realised that the more the heads of Cerberus bit the bone Jackson had offered him, the bigger the three-headed dog became.
  
  Cerberus was the size of a very big truck when it transported them into the depths of the Underworld.
  
  Now it was easily twice or three times that size.
  
  The horse of darkness, the monster Perseus had nicknamed 'Shadow', suddenly looked rather terrified by the opposition it faced.
  
  "There is no limit of time for this duel of Champions. Let the fight begin!"
  
  Cerberus barked, and it was a sound which resonated across the arena and beyond like the death of Empires.
  
  The next seconds, it had to be said, were just an ungodly massacre of the equine Champion.
  
  Gods Below, he loved cheating like that.
  
  Obviously, Perseus wasn't about to gloat about it.
  
  There was the Avatar of a Primordial ready to smack him on the other side of the arena, and he didn't doubt a single second that the tiniest sparkle of the Night's power was sufficient to incinerate him.
  
  Yes, Nyx would pay for it, the Ancient Laws were not a joke.
  
  He would still be very, very dead.
  
  "It seems my Champion emerged victorious." The green-eyed Demigod said, taking great care to keep any triumphalism out of his voice.
  
  There was no reaction for several seconds.
  
  "Yes," the eldritch body seemed to lose slowly its aura of terror. "Now swear."
  
  Let it be known that he was not an oath-breaker or stupid.
  
  "I swear on the Styx that after today, I will never return to the Underworld on my own free will, Mother of the House of Night. I will not bring radiance to this realm, be it from the Sun, the Moon, or any other source. I will not interfere in the divine and not-divine matters of the Realms Below, for as long as I am mortal. Should I gain immortality, the visits will be at the invitation of the Gods and Goddesses of the Underworld, and will not be used to upend the balance of power of the Dark."
  
  It was as if a million voices of hatred whispered in his ears. It was as manacles of cold metal were tightening around his wrists.
  
  It was, clearly and unambiguously, not pleasant at all.
  
  Such was the price to invoke Styx in the Underworld for such a powerful oath.
  
  But it was done, and Nyx hadn't incinerated him.
  
  Maybe-
  
  A talon moved, and Cerberus was teleported away.
  
  "Your soul is saved, Demigod. Now your two companions have to choose a Champion of their own."
  
  You know what he had said about cheating seconds ago?
  
  Well, you could forget it immediately, please.
  
  That was blatantly unfair, if you believed in such things.
  
  "Jackson," the ex-Goddess by his side had definitely a worried expression now. For once, the leader of the Suicide Squad was going to say it was completely sane to feel that way. "Please tell me you can recall Cerberus, or that you have another Champion."
  
  "He does not have another Champion," Calypso went to stand at his side. In this realm of penumbra, the former Titaness of Drakons looked ill and far less valiant than she had been against the Hydra. But the son of Poseidon supposed Hera and himself looked far worse. The daughter of Tethys had a lot of immortal energy inside her, giving her some natural immunity to the powers of the Night and Hell. They couldn't boast about that, and no, Drakonic curses or blessings were not sufficient here.
  
  "This isn't exact. I could call a Hellhound." Perseus admitted. "But not only Nico will never forgive me if I steal his beloved pet, I am realistic enough to know Zoë will be defeated as easily as Cerberus defeated the previous Champion."
  
  "What was the point of throwing this kind of challenge, then?"
  
  Sometimes, it was really easy to see why Zeus had stripped Hera of his immortality.
  
  "I want it to be known that when I asked if someone had a better idea to escape the wrath of a Primordial, everyone was quite silent."
  
  This, at least, forced her to be quiet for the next seconds.
  
  "We were all about to have our souls swallowed by the Night, so I chose the option which gave us a few more seconds of life. And I happened to save my soul in the process, which might not seem much to you, but definitely matters to me."
  
  Indeed, Perseus was more or less certain he was going to survive today.
  
  The problem was that at this hour, his escape would be without Hera or Calypso.
  
  Without those two, the Great Quest was near-doomed to failure. It didn't matter what accords might be bargained with in Circe's custody or after a hypothetical release. They would have a small increase in firepower after some new Telekhine weapons arrived, and Miranda may have sand powers to support them.
  
  It just wasn't enough to face the Sea Titaness waiting for them and achieve the liberation of the God of the Forges. As for the Triumvirate, it was a prospect so distant there was no use even thinking about it beyond the fact it existed and had to be dealt with in the future.
  
  "The situation is extremely unfavourable."
  
  The words had just been uttered that Nyx evidently thought that if they had time to discuss, then she assuredly could send her Champion.
  
  A maelstrom of darkness erupted across the arena, and Perseus for a second hoped the sibling of the horse which had just been defeated had been chosen to avenge the first defeat.
  
  It went without saying that they weren't this lucky.
  
  The only good thing Perseus could say was that it was smaller than Cerberus at his maximal side. Or in other words, yes, it was that bad.
  
  Nine heads. There were black scales of onyx colour which were impenetrable to all mortal weapons. Nine pairs of red eyes staring at them with malice and hunger. It was easily six metres tall, and the magic of the Night shrouded it. One of the heads began to spit poison, and it had a corrosive effect upon the soil that Cerberus had not been able to damage in his fight.
  
  This was a gigantic Hydra straight from their worst nightmares. It was a monster that relegated the Lernaean bone-specimen they had fought previously to the rank of 'lesser opponent'. It was something just shy of Godhood.
  
  Evidently, his assumption that Nyx considered it beneath her to fight them was true. But he had annoyed her sufficiently to find a monster which was one step removed from actual immortality.
  
  Even if his Lord Uncle offered him to pick the Champion of his choice from the entirety of the Underworld roster, the former Tyrant wasn't sure there was one to fight able to emerge victorious against that.
  
  Oh, well. Sane, predictable, and fairly successful plans had no longer a chance.
  
  It was time for desperate plans.
  
  "Lady Calypso? I have a plan." Perseus grimaced. "You aren't going to like it."
  
  Perseus Jackson was right, but for the wrong reasons.
  
  "Who will be the Challenger this time, and where is your Champion?"
  
  Calypso stepped forwards.
  
  "I will be Hera's Champion." The Titaness spoke. "I want it to be clear it will be for the first and last time in history if I win. And that way if I lose, I will have at least the satisfaction you will devour her soul a few seconds after that."
  
  "HEY!"
  
  The former prisoner of Ogygia smiled when hearing the outrage of the ex-Goddess of Cows. She had to admit the animal suited very well for Rhea's daughter. Poor Queen of Titans though, she must be ashamed of what her child had become.
  
  The amusement didn't last long.
  
  Not when the huge monster Nyx had summoned started to slither towards her. And if the Primordial had been surprised by her announcement, she was hiding it well.
  
  Calypso concentrated on her enemy.
  
  In her prime, she had slaughtered countless Hydras.
  
  But it had been when she was the Titaness of Drakons. Now, she was Titaness of exactly nothing. She was ruler of an island that also happened to be a prison, and if Zeus' wrath was on the level of Kronos, the little paradise had certainly received a few strikes of the Master Bolt.
  
  The absence of titles would not have bothered her that much if her powers had been restored to her. But it had not happened, and in a way, the appearance of Khione had been a blessing in disguise. The Drakons were now no longer her problem, and good riddance.
  
  In this world which no longer remembered her, Calypso's powers and titles would be the ones she managed to claim and take for herself.
  
  Besides, it also was funny that Perseus Jackson was unaware of something crucial for his plans. The Demigod was very knowledgeable, way too much any mortal had any right to be, but he was not omniscient.
  
  If Olympus realised what kind of arrow they missed with that, they would literally kiss the floors of their temple in relief.
  
  "My name, serpent, is Calypso of the Hesperides."
  
  "Who cares," the nine-headed monster hissed, "about your name? You are my prey, ready to be devoured!"
  
  And it was able to speak, with a touch of the divine. That meant a child of Echidna and Nyx, though fortunately one falling short of true Godhood.
  
  This wasn't really a relief, for Calypso couldn't take any divine form; she had none of her pre-Titanomachy ones left.
  
  "BEGIN!"
  
  Instantly, she went on the offensive.
  
  Her spear impaled one of the heads, and what was left of her fires, the daughter of Tethys tried to incinerate it and prevent it from being a factor in this battle.
  
  It didn't work.
  
  Calypso had to jump away, and only experience of an age long gone prevented her from losing her head as three massive maws opened and closed where she had stood seconds ago.
  
  The Titaness made a second attempt, which ended in an even more lamentable manner than the first.
  
  And naturally, for every head slain, two heads were born, already ready for battle.
  
  The Hydra had nine monstrous heads at the beginning; it had now eleven.
  
  What an unpleasant way to verify that unlike some lesser breeds of Hydra, this 'Nyx-blessed' one was not limited to the number of nine.
  
  As the tenth one began to spit black lightning to support an acid bombardment, Calypso really wanted to kill someone for having the temerity to breed that irritant predator. Unfortunately, the only one in sight was the Mother of the House of Night, and even pointing her spear in the wrong direction would result in annihilation.
  
  Still, the first minute of battle proved alas that the basic anti-Hydra strategies were not going to work.
  
  This Hydra was invulnerable to her flames. That meant that to stop the regeneration of the multiple heads, you had to inflict such damage that there would be nothing to grow anew.
  
  "Choosing Cerberus as your first Champion was a good idea, Demigods." The Primordial of Night spoke with clear satisfaction. "But your second Champion is only the shadow of what she once was."
  
  If her attempt was to anger her, it worked.
  
  And yes, Calypso was very much aware her Fatal Flaw was her Wrath.
  
  When everyone in your family had Pride or this Flaw, you didn't need to search a lot of time to find it.
  
  But this time, the former prisoner of Ogygia embraced it.
  
  "I AM NOT A SHADOW!"
  
  She embraced it and she attacked again.
  
  This time she managed to kill two more heads, including one of the acid-spitting ones.
  
  "Oh? And what are you, then daughter of Atlas?"
  
  Calypso smiled.
  
  "I am an empty chalice, and I need something to fill it."
  
  She struck at the serpentine body, and when her spear finally broke, she tore apart the scales with her bare hands.
  
  At last the paler and weaker flesh appeared.
  
  Calypso seized it and bit it deeply.
  
  The taste of the meat was very much poison and serpent combined together.
  
  But it was the taste of power.
  
  When she swallowed the meat, Calypso for the first time in millennia felt herself becoming stronger.
  
  By the time she evaded all the frenetic counterattacks of the Hydra, only one head out of the two she had destroyed was back for the fight.
  
  And this time, there was no 'cut one head, two will take its place'.
  
  "Someone is going to be devoured by the end of this battle, yes," the Titaness smiled to the Hydra, and the monster suddenly sounded far less confident in its ultimate victory. "Let's hurry, I want to go drink something else which will remove the taste of your disgusting poison from my tongue!"
  
  For those Demigods who read these lines, Perseus was delivering the warning: no, trying to eat a Hydra wasn't a good idea.
  
  It was a pretty horrible idea, in fact.
  
  The blood of the Hydras had a large poison component, so the odds were high you would poison yourself after the first attempt to drink it, and then the monster would avenge itself by devouring your corpse.
  
  It was only an option because Calypso was not a Demigoddess, but a Titaness.
  
  And even then, frankly, the Tyrant of the Suicide Squad would have preferred not verifying if his theories on the subject were right or wrong.
  
  Why?
  
  Well, to begin with, that the poison couldn't kill her didn't mean it wasn't a problem. Calypso was losing her strength as the fight went on. Fortunately, by the time her ability to fight abruptly decreased, the Hydra was in agony and had only a single dying head left.
  
  The second problem could be considered worse, from where he stood. Eating the Hydra indeed allowed someone to absorb its power, if done correctly. But it wasn't a free buffet.
  
  Calypso was indeed an empty chalice, but they weren't speaking of ordinary wine to fill it. This was a Hydra of the Night which had been summoned to fight her. This had consequences.
  
  Bite by bite, the ex-Titaness of Drakons had changed.
  
  The auburn hair had been replaced by a long mane of black colour.
  
  Her eyes were shining the same malevolent red as the nine pairs of the Hydra had.
  
  Her skin had become paler and paler, until it was almost as pale as a corpse.
  
  And those were the superficial changes, those his eyes could discern...and it hurt him to do so. As he touched his face, the green-eyed Demigod realised he had been crying. And the tears were red. He had been crying his own blood. This was really, really bad. They had to get out while they still could.
  
  "The Champion is victorious." His voice was more a croak than something proud and special by that point. It removed most of the satisfaction he could have felt watching the Hydra's corpse falling apart and staying immobile for good. "The Challenge was settled. We are leaving."
  
  "You and the failing embers of a Goddess can leave, Demigod." The Primordial's power washed around them, destructive and oppressing. "But the Titaness stays. She ate my child. By the Ancient Laws, she ate the food of the World of Night, and will never return to the World under the Light."
  
  What?
  
  Perseus almost shouted this was sheer nonsense. But he managed to control himself, which was certainly good for his life-expectancy.
  
  If that was anybody else, he would have still asked if it was a bad joke.
  
  But it was a Primordial speaking.
  
  It was an Avatar of the Night levitating forwards.
  
  No, it couldn't end like that, not when they had won-
  
  There had to be a solution, something he could-
  
  There was-
  
  There was a solution.
  
  "OBJECTION!" He shouted as the talons of the Avatar were about to seize Calypso, who was so exhausted she wasn't able to do more but trying to crawl away. "By the Ancient Laws, this Hydra was summoned into the Underworld, and it was as a monster of the Underworld that it was eaten and slain! Therefore the fate of Calypso can only be decided by Lord Hades, ruler of the Underworld, for it is food of the Underworld she ate!"
  
  A storm of darkness came into existence, and Hades appeared, with Persephone on his right and Khione on his left.
  
  "My nephew has a point, Nyx."
  
  "Hades," the Primordial didn't hiss in anger, but she was not far from that point. "If you think I will tolerate you sending this one six months of a year to the World Above, you are sorely mistaken."
  
  The God of the Underworld didn't answer her directly. Instead, he bent the knee to take the exhausted daughter of Tethys in his arms. Whatever they said, Perseus didn't hear. The fact that his ears began to bleed suggested it was not meant for mortals, obviously.
  
  Persephone and Khione went by his side and used their own powers on Calypso, though. Hades removed his dark cloak, and gave it to her, before helping her to stand again. It had to be said Calypso did it on very shaky legs.
  
  There was a difference, though. For the first time, there was a ring of pure darkness on one of Calypso's fingers.
  
  "Calypso made an oath to Perseus Jackson, and this oath she will uphold," the Lord of Hell declared. "One moon of service. It will end once she and her mother will have settled their differences after millennia of separation, or at the end of the moon's turn, whichever ends first. And then Calypso will return here, to absorb the rest of the powers you want to force her to take...and I will, with her consent, take her as my third wife."
  
  Perseus remembered the glances of Zagreus and Melinoë when they had met. Suddenly, their insistence to reveal as little as the future and to push them to go into the depths to meet this Fate was not surprising at all.
  
  "I consent." The voice of the now black-haired Titaness was weak, incredibly weak...and yet it was far more powerful than it had been. "I...I consent and I pay the price. I cede the Mantle of Summer to Hera."
  
  The bridges were burned and the course of destiny set, eh? It wasn't possible to turn back.
  
  Three female immortals. Three heads for the Warden of Hell. Three Mantles of Seasons abandoned. Magma and Gemstones, Ice, and the Night for the Underworld. By Three they did came, and by Three it ended.
  
  "Nyx?"
  
  The Primordial's Avatar...changed. It was fluid, and you couldn't honestly describe the process, but soon enough, the eldritch abomination was gone, and a five metres-tall woman with a dark robe of amethyst and onyx gemstones was standing and caressing Calypso's cheek.
  
  "You will be the third Queen of the Underworld, Calypso Tenebrae. Yours are the Hydras of the Night, and the Wrath of the Dark Fields of the World Below." This wasn't intended to be reassuring...and it was not. "I will change you, much like your sister-wives were changed by my sister of the Earth. Now go."
  
  "Hera," Perseus called.
  
  Fortunately, the former Queen of Gods needed no more incitation to play her part.
  
  "We have been invited here today to share in a joyous celebration..."
  
  It was a wedding reduced to its simplest expression.
  
  But then, the official celebrations would likely happen in a few months.
  
  "It is my pleasure to present you as husband and wives," Hera finished...and then it was as three lightning bolts struck her.
  
  It was a good thing he had anticipated something like that, and he caught her bridal style before she could face back-first against the cold and dark arena.
  
  And just like that, he was almost out of time.
  
  "With your permission, Lord Uncle?"
  
  "Go. Return to the world of the living."
  
  Perseus took a whistle in his pocket, and chirped with what little strength he had left in his lungs.
  
  22 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  The hours had passed, and there had been no visitors.
  
  The Dark Solstice had come and gone, and with it, the first grumbles had been heard.
  
  Annabeth knew it was understandable.
  
  For all the beauty of C.C's Spa, it was still a prison for them, a fact made clear by the two Amazons escorting her. After the madness Jackson had unleashed, their 'hosts' wanted to be sure no one tried to open doors and cause mayhem where they had no right to be.
  
  The daughter of Athena was walking across a large plaza delimited by several triumph arcs, each of them covered in magical runes, when one of said monuments suddenly turned into a vast and threatening black portal.
  
  "Alert!" The Amazon on her right shouted. "We have a situation that-"
  
  There was a terrifying amount of barking, and Cerberus crossed the portal.
  
  Undoubtedly, some people would wonder how Annabeth knew it was really Cerberus.
  
  She would answer that the first time she had met the giant three-headed dog was sufficient to not forget him for the rest of her life and beyond.
  
  Besides, there was Perseus riding on his back, so it had to be Cerberus.
  
  Wait a minute. If the two were there, what...oh, no, he had once more returned to the Underworld, didn't he?
  
  "CIRCE, I AM BACK!" The son of Poseidon shouted...and to Annabeth's consternation, the shout was followed by a less-than-glorious coughing fit. And she was pretty sure he spat blood in the next seconds.
  
  As he dismounted from his giant companion - who outside the Underworld was revealed to have a rich and hirsute crimson fur, the blonde Demigoddess could see that whatever had happened, it had been bad.
  
  Perseus had visibly cried tears of his own blood. There were scars on his arms that he had visibly inflicted to himself, and most of his tanning that he had done in the Sea of Monsters was gone. One of his hands was covered in bandages, and despite that, it still managed to look awful.
  
  Hundreds of Amazons stormed the plaza, and the Mistress of the Spa teleported in front of him.
  
  Whatever anger Circe may have felt for the son of Poseidon in the last hours, she was clearly as much taken aback by his appearance as Annabeth was.
  
  "You are almost dead."
  
  "I thought about making a complaint," the leader of the Suicide Squad replied between two coughs, "but after much consideration, I decided that suing a Primordial may be the last mistake I would ever make."
  
  Primordial. And they went to the Underworld. That meant either Nyx, Chaos, or Tartarus-
  
  "I see," the Immortal Sorceress commented. "Still, you are technically an enemy on my doorstep-"
  
  "Oh, I surrender, of course." For once, there was no mockery, no humour left in Perseus' voice. "And I will pay for one VIP day of your spa's services. Cerberus served as my Champion, and he will have his reward."
  
  "And your companions?"
  
  Annabeth blinked, and then realised there were two women tied to the improvised saddle which had been placed on Cerberus' back. They were clearly unconscious, most of their bodies was hidden by cloaks the colour of night.
  
  "This is...where it is complicated. But they need rest above all." The green-eyed Demigod...no, one of his eyes had turned red-black. What in the name of Hades had happened? "If someone tries to sell you the Underworld as a touristic destination, I humbly suggest you believe all the rumours."
  
  "There is a reason why no one was eager to break the balance of power in the Underworld." The ruler of C.C's Spa and Resort replied slowly, as her black eyes stayed on the two immobile women. Apparently, unlike Annabeth, she knew who they were. "On a different subject, I am willing to let you and your fellow Questers recover on my island. But by the Achaia Convention, Olympus can and will likely pay the ransom for some of you to be immediately transferred to Olympus' custody."
  
  "In that case," and this time a shadow of the mad grin returned, for a few seconds, "I humbly request to emulate the exploit of a great knight I learned the tale of."
  
  "Exploit?"
  
  "Yes, like Bertrand Du Guesclin in his time, I want to decide myself the price of my ransom! In my opinion, my head is worth two million Drachmas, oh Immortal Sorceress! And I say my companions are worth slightly a bit less...let's say one million and seven hundred thousand Drachmas each?"
  
  He wanted WHAT?
  
  Circe hadn't seen that coming. The Amazons surrounding them had clearly not seen it coming either.
  
  "Despite the rumours of the time," Circe managed to recover enough to reply in a coherent fashion, "the knight you're speaking of had a large part of his ransom paid by his King, who then removed the sum in question from the money he owed to him. I seriously doubt the Master of Olympus pays you enough to consider the same option."
  
  "Actually, he doesn't pay me at all!" Perseus assured her.
  
  And then on these words, he collapsed.
  
  Cerberus made a curious sound, as if the three-headed dog couldn't believe his 'eternal friend' had reached his limits.
  
  "Lady Circe! Do you want us to-"
  
  "No." The Goddess of the Spa Island shook her head. "I am going to make sure he stays alive and recover to his full health. As long as he breathes, Olympus will know no peace."
  
  In the distance, there was a loud thunderous rumble. And oh yes, there were the dark clouds which had almost sank the Inevitable Doom at the entrance of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  "The Olympians are not going to be happy. And they can hold their grudges for a very long time."
  
  Annabeth cleared her throat, and half of the army present turned towards her.
  
  "As Perseus Jackson would put it if he was conscious," the daughter of Athena said with an apologetic smile, "making the King of the Gods and several Olympians unhappy was either the goal or a happy side-benefit of his deeds."
  
  That left the question of which goal had been accomplished, of course. Perseus had left to acquire some super-weapons, and he returned with two women in as bad a shape as he was. Annabeth could only hope he had been successful, otherwise the Suicide Squad wasn't going to live long outside C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  Author's Note:
  
  The felonies, crimes, and treasons of the Suicide Squad (and especially Perseus Jackson) will continue in the next chapter. Among the possible titles for it are: The Ransom of Success, I am the Ransom, and The Last Muster. You can already brace for the explosion certain events are going to trigger on Olympus.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen:
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper, Chuck, Jim plus fourteen other Legionnaire mutineers
  
  Gallowborne Division - all seventeen Legionnaires
  
  Nick Coleman, son of Quirinus
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber, transformed into a golden penguin and unfortunately for him, died as one
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and became the Champion of Khione
  
  Drew Tanaka - daughter of Aphrodite: became a living weapon, and the new Champion of Persephone
  
  Calypso Tenebrae - daughter of Atlas, joins the Suicide Squad for a moon, may have a slight grudge against Olympus
  
  Hera - completely blamed for organising and celebrating marriages without the approval of Olympus. She is also a claimant to the title of Goddess of Seasons now.
  
  Perseus Jackson - for reasons which don't need to be explained
  
  Gallowborne 'Division':
  
  17 ex-Legionnaires, condemned to be thrown in the most dangerous situations for their attempted mutiny; their names are now forsaken, and they are now known as 'Future Zombie', 'Cannon-Fodder', 'Scapegoat', 'Dead Legionnaire Walking', etc...
  
  It must be alas noted that all the Gallowborne Legionnaires all perished during their Redemption Mission on the beach of C.'C's Spa and Resort. Perseus Jackson has already declined all responsibility in the matter.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  The Ransom of Success
  Chapter 25
  
  The Ransom of Success
  
  23 December 2006, somewhere in the Pacific, the Ruins of Ogygia Island
  
  Athena had never visited Ogygia in the last three millennia. The Goddess of Wisdom was many things, but she didn't believe herself to be a hypocrite. Most of the agreements lying underneath the peace accords which had been signed in blood at the end of the Titanomachy were carelessly violated or broken maliciously long ago. Throwing that in the face of spying a prisoner who had held true to her word was not just illogical; it was also of very poor taste.
  
  And many Titans who had managed to escape out of Tartarus centuries later always chose to be cast back into the Pit rather than choose the tiniest possibility of being imprisoned in a replica of Ogygia. The fates of Atlas and Calypso had ensured matters always came to violence between Othrys and Olympus, nothing more, nothing less.
  
  Athena had never visited Ogygia, but she had sent Odysseus there to save his life, and she knew it was a beautiful island, a refuge of beauty beyond the ravages of time. It was a garden untroubled by wars and mayhem.
  
  It had taken mere minutes for it to become devastation incarnate.
  
  The traditional villa where the daughter of Tethys had stayed during her imprisonment was gone.
  
  There was nothing left of it.
  
  Instead, a gigantic crater had taken its place, and the black rubble was everywhere, accompanied by cutting-sharp debris from what might have been furniture and garden embellishments.
  
  This was pure speculation, of course. Everything on Ogygia was just too damaged to have a strong assurance of which part had served which purpose. Hecate was going to have some considerable work to hide this island, now that the wards and all the prison's divine protections had utterly failed.
  
  One crater would have been bad enough, but it was not the only massive crater to disfigure Ogygia. There were at least half a dozen more of such gigantic holes, and all of them were so huge that save ballistic missiles and the biggest bombs available to humanity, there wasn't a lot to compare it to in terms of explosive lethality.
  
  The Ogygia-that-was had perished in lightning bolts, flames, and fury. The sand had been turned to glass. The trees were turned into ashes. Whatever animals had not the instinct and the speed to flee in time had been killed.
  
  Athena kept a stone-faced expression. Deep inside however, the Goddess of Strategy was seething. It was senseless, gratuitous devastation.
  
  There was no purpose to it. The 'door' Perseus Jackson had made was closed permanently again, courtesy of Hades. Ogygia couldn't serve as a prison anymore. And it wasn't like the island was responsible for the escape breakout. It wasn't sentient. As for the guardians, well, the Strixes had never expected an opponent like the son of Poseidon. And most of them were dead. Bombarding their graveyard was disrespectful in the extreme.
  
  None of that crossed Athena's lips as she stepped forwards to face her genitor.
  
  "Athena. I hope you bring good news."
  
  One day, the Protector of Athens would say everything she believed about certain Olympian's methods, and how they were able to find defeat even in the jaws of victory.
  
  But today wasn't that day.
  
  "No," she replied as bluntly. "I could confirm Perseus Jackson indeed returned from the Underworld with Hera in tow. I was unable to confirm Calypso's presence, either from the Underworld or from Circe's herald. With Hecate herself present, spying on who is hiding inside the Spa is the next best thing to impossible, and my eyes are insufficient for the purpose."
  
  To be honest, Athena didn't believe magical talent would have changed her answer. There were many reasons why Hecate was so feared on Olympus; the ability to hide mere feet away from you was just one of them.
  
  "In my opinion, Calypso has returned among the living. They must be a reason after all why the son of the Seas took the risk of freeing her, and facing the Titaness of the Seas is the only one which makes sense." Athena paused for a couple of seconds. "As for the ransoms, evidently, the sorceress gleefully followed Perseus Jackson's recommendations. She wants her due."
  
  "SHE WILL HAVE WAR!"
  
  The world turned into light and explosions. Overwhelming power shook the world.
  
  When the ashes and the dust dispersed, Ogygia had a new huge crater to add to the already impressive number of impact sites.
  
  Athena didn't bother blinking or showing any sign of emotion.
  
  "Declaring war on Circe, in these circumstances, is very much akin to declaring war to the Titaness of Magic."
  
  The Goddess of Olive Trees and Owls didn't bother wasting her saliva saying it was a very bad idea. The blatant act of aggression would likely lead Hades and his two wives to side with Hecate immediately. Poseidon, in the best of cases, would be neutral; in the worst case, he would side with the Underworld because of his son. Zeus was incredibly powerful, no one would naysay it. But if the Seas and Hell united to topple him, Olympus would face a long and cataclysmic war they may not be able to win.
  
  "This is not over. When I will have this spawn in my hands, I will strangle him very, very slowly and-"
  
  The rest was a series of threats mumbled and very dark promises.
  
  Athena only listened with one ear, waiting until the angry rant ended.
  
  "I will not pay this ransom."
  
  "This isn't against tradition." Of course, since only a few mortals had pulled the unconventional provocation, there wasn't a tradition in the first place, but best to not mention that out loud. "I must unfortunately point out that Poseidon is willing to pay it, however. For the moment, he is too busy laughing and watching the replays of his son's...outrageous adventures. But it is not going to last. And in that case, the rules are clear. If the Throne of the Seas pay the ransom for a son of the Seas and his band of Questers, the members will be guests of honour of Atlantis for one year, the time for the Great Quest to be declared officially successful or failed."
  
  Realistically, without the Suicide Squad on the battlefield, this Quest's failure would not be in doubt for a minute. A year was just near-perfect insurance for that.
  
  "NO!" Zeus shouted, before calming himself after a considerable effort to restrain his temper. "I won't tolerate it. I won't tolerate this spawn avoiding the consequences of his crimes!"
  
  The hypocrisy would have left a lesser Goddess speechless, given how many children of Zeus and Jupiter had flaunted the rules in the past and gotten away with a mere pat on their heads.
  
  Fortunately, Athena wasn't a lesser Goddess, and she was used to this level of hypocrisy.
  
  "Then it is necessary for an Olympian who isn't Poseidon to pay the ransom." She spoke neutrally. "If the Suicide Squad is removed from the Quest, we will have only the broken remnants of the Roman Cohorts to work with, and we won't be able to reinforce them before Spring arrives. And I am certain Hephaestus must be freed before any liberation attempt can be planned for Ares."
  
  In other words, if the Quest failed, it would be up to the armies of Olympus to wage a direct assault against Tethys. Since the Titaness in question would not have to limit her strength according to the Ancient Laws, the losses promised to be particularly heavy.
  
  "We can be very unhappy about it, but assuming they have Calypso in their Quester group, the Suicide Squad has a chance to score a victory and free Hephaestus."
  
  "The Suicide Squad," the Lord of Thunder growled, "is so far creating more problems than they resolve."
  
  Athena felt her lips burn, and temptation danced in her throat to ask exactly what he was thinking when he killed the boy's mother. Or when he killed the Di Angelo's mother too. Or-
  
  Athena abandoned this thinking perspective. Zeus had not been thinking. Athena wanted it to be the truth. The other options were all worse.
  
  "Perhaps. But in this case, the laws authorising the Demigods to challenge everyone, up to the Titans and the Gods, without creating diplomatic complications, are in Olympus' best interest. While any Olympian would risk triggering a war with the Titan of the Sea by attacking his wife, the Questers won't begin a long and incredibly difficult period of bloodshed. Whatever the outcome of the battle, it will begin and end in the Sea of Monsters."
  
  At least, the Goddess of Wisdom hoped it would.
  
  After the slaying of a Drakon, the journeys through Hell, the taming of Moby Dick, and the damnation of Chrysaor, the Goddess of Strategy seriously wondered where the limits of Perseus Jackson's madness lied, assuming they existed in the first place.
  
  "We need them to deal with Forge MP-42." Zeus said slowly, his distaste clear.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "But the use we have for them ends when Hephaestus is freed. If they free my son and happen to survive, they will be bloodied and weakened; as punishment for their crimes, I will command exile in this Zone Mortalis for the rest of eternity a suitable punishment for their crimes. With the Titaness no longer a concern, one Olympian Army will largely be enough to deal with these pestiferous cockroaches pretending to be a legitimate Triumvirate."
  
  No mention was made of what would happen if the Suicide Squad failed, but it didn't take an arch-genius to guess the likeliest outcome. Either the Demigods would be killed by Tethys...or the Master Bolt would make them regret they weren't already sent to the Halls of Hades.
  
  "I don't care how you do it, but make sure this treacherous sorceress lowers her ridiculous demands. Then pay this outrageous ransom. Atlantis will reimburse you once the whole affair is over."
  
  "By your command." Athena doubted Poseidon ever would do something like that, of course. But the anger she felt was not directed anywhere in the direction of Atlantis anyway. It was very Zeus-like to give orders and try to ruin financially someone else after his own temples were in peril.
  
  And no, this wasn't a figure of speech. Two properties of the Master of Olympus had detonated when the God of Thunder realised Calypso had accepted Perseus Jackson's help to escape Ogygia.
  
  "Gather the surviving Legionnaires of the Roman Expeditionary Force, and send them to the sorceress' Spa and Resort. You will deliver them my secret orders; during the battle, they will recover the Golden Fleece for the glory of Olympus. It is out of the question to leave this priceless and unique artefact into the hands of the sea spawn and his band of walking catastrophes."
  
  Athena hadn't tried yet to study the question, but she could recognise an atrocious idea when she heard one. So far, Perseus Jackson had a gift to eliminate traitors and spies, and somehow emerge uninjured from the conspiracies. The surviving Legionnaires, in many cases, weren't even aware the Suicide Squad had been sent to win where they had disastrously failed.
  
  Yes, this was a command reeking of brazen stupidity.
  
  But looking at the stormy eyes of the Master of Olympus, what little desire there was to tell the truth died instantly.
  
  "This is their last chance!"
  
  Yes, it was. But for whom? The Legionnaires and the Suicide Squad...or for Olympus?
  
  24 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort, the Chambers of Healing
  
  When Perseus opened his eyes again, it was a room of white colour and smelling very flowery which welcomed him.
  
  Since the ex-Tyrant knew he was never going to end in any divine-created paradise, that left a hospital or something similar.
  
  Something strongly supported by the various medical diagrams waiting near the white bed, many of them describing the wounds he had arrived with.
  
  Good, he hadn't been completely hallucinating when Cerberus charged back across the Labyrinth.
  
  The black-haired Demigod stretched and carefully moved towards the edge of the bed. The effort it took him justified a few disabused grimaces. Nyx hadn't even touched him, and yet her mere presence had almost killed him. Primordials were really bloody cheating incarnate, weren't they?
  
  But he was a villain. He was a Demigod. He had bathed in a small pool of Drakonic blood.
  
  Victory had never been handed to him like the children of Zeus and many other heroes took it for granted.
  
  His breathing was erratic for a moment, but Perseus managed to crawl to the end of the extremely long bed, and position himself so he faced the old-fashioned mirror.
  
  The image which the glass was courteous enough to send back wasn't the one he had imagined.
  
  One of his eyes had turned red.
  
  This was...really unexpected.
  
  Yes, the iris and the pupil of his left eye had turned a deep crimson and flamboyant red. One might almost describe it as malevolent red.
  
  And the sclera surrounding it was a deep black.
  
  Fortunately, though the appearance was a bit intimidating, the effects appeared to be purely cosmetic. The left eye worked exactly like the unmodified right eye did, and if there was a curse, it was beyond his ability to detect it right now.
  
  It could definitely have been worse.
  
  Leaving this matter aside for now, Perseus removed the bandages covering most of his left arm.
  
  As he had feared and hoped, when the palm of his left hand was revealed, a crude sun glyph was carved in his very flesh.
  
  "The Titan of the Sun faded long ago, but his flames contain what remains of his wrath. You are lucky to be alive."
  
  Perseus turned his head to nod at the young woman who entered the room.
  
  Like the furniture and the decorations, she was dressed in white. There was a strange aura surrounding her, one demanding instant respect. Her brown hair were braided, but in a strange style looking quite severe. And her eyes were cold.
  
  Too cold to be...ah.
  
  "Lady Athena," the son of Poseidon saluted before laboriously turning to present his back to the mirror.
  
  The young woman blinked, before her height gained twenty good centimetres in a single second and her appearance was slightly altered. The eyes became a piercing grey. The hair turned blonde. Although Perseus wasn't going to be stupid enough to utter it, it was strange to see what an older version of Annabeth could look like.
  
  "How?" The Goddess of Wisdom asked, visibly interested in the answer.
  
  "It was the eyes."
  
  "I changed the colour."
  
  "The colour is just the beginning of a good disguise, though it can fool the people not paying attention. Hiding who you are requires...it requires truly becoming someone else. There's a reason why actors have all my respect...well, the good ones have."
  
  Perseus breathed out.
  
  "But I doubt you did come to speak of how realistic one could push the disguises to the next level, oh Goddess of Heroes."
  
  "No. I have come to give you a last chance, per the will of the Master of Olympus."
  
  The former Tyrant snickered.
  
  "In other words, Ethan must have surrendered hours ago to Circe, and as a result the Golden Fleece is beyond Zeus's reach. Since this must have healed most of the curses and injuries my Quester Group endured in the last week, we remain the only force in the game. I have a plan, and we are within striking range of Forge MP-42. How am I doing so far?"
  
  "One day, your lack of respect will see you crucified and flayed, insolent Demigod."
  
  "I have great respect for your strategic skills," Perseus decided to amend. "In my humble opinion, however, they are far too...conventional. They work for you, but any Demigod trying to emulate your exploits will become predictable fast, for he or she will not have your eye and your ability to react and correct the tiniest flaws in a grand battle-plan."
  
  As the Goddess' face might as well be a block of granite right now, it was difficult to say if the answer pleased or angered her.
  
  "I paid your ransom of two million Drachmas," the blonde Goddess revealed, surprising him for the first time of the conversation. "Circe graciously accepted to not be paid for the rest of your band provided certain favours were offered."
  
  That fast? Something was definitely fishy there...
  
  But clearly, Circe wouldn't have invited Athena to set foot on her island if certain negotiations hadn't taken place.
  
  "Okay? Thank you, Goddess, and I am going to repay you these two million Drachmas, like tradition demands. Give me a day, and I'm sure I can arrange a transfer at the Forge of All Perils-"
  
  The grey eyes didn't glare or act in any threatening way.
  
  Yet they seem to pierce his soul nonetheless.
  
  "Do you really think, Perseus Jackson, that I need two million Galleons? I am the Goddess of Strategy, boy."
  
  And she closed her mouth, as if she had already said too much. Which was...not incorrect, in a way.
  
  "So you are building up your personal fortune thanks to insider trading."
  
  And being an immortal Goddess, Athena had had centuries to exploit the flaws of the world market.
  
  "The God of Trade and Thieves should really know better than trying to crash the Stock Exchanges every Thursday in the hope it will give him the upper hand over me."
  
  Ouch! Perseus wanted to report a murder. Yes, it was a real one. Luke's father was going to jump from the window on the one hundredth floor, helped by a certain Goddess of Wisdom.
  
  "If money isn't the repayment you seek, what is your will, Protector of Heroes and Athens?"
  
  "I want you to end the curse on my wayward daughter."
  
  As Annabeth wasn't cursed anymore to believe she was a giant spider trapped in a human body and the daughters of Athena weren't present in the Sea of Monsters in overwhelming numbers, that left-
  
  Oh, no.
  
  "As the attack on Forge MP-42 can't be delayed for long," Perseus replied in his most reasonable tone, "I am going to guess and say the Titaness hired a certain trio of Gorgon sisters. They are going to be among the monsters defending Hephaestus' prison, aren't they?"
  
  Athena merely watched him emotionlessly, confirming he had correctly interpreted her information.
  
  "But how do you know that when even my drones couldn't-"
  
  Perseus tried to not show his shock when the truth smacked him in the face.
  
  "You. You are the Titaness' spy among the Council."
  
  How could he have missed that? Athena had been raised by-
  
  "These are very dangerous words, Perseus Jackson."
  
  And the ex-Tyrant noted, she didn't lose ten seconds to protest her innocence.
  
  How good to see that many Olympians were engaged in various shenanigans Zeus would mightily disapprove of if he knew, including and up to high treason.
  
  "I may have prepared a contingency plan to deal with...your wayward daughter and her two not-so-infamous sisters, Lady Athena. But the plan in question assumed it would be a one-on-one duel. It was not imagined to be feasible in the middle of a large-scale battle."
  
  "I am sure you will find a way." The blonde Goddess replied totally unsympathetically.
  
  Why, oh why, Dionysus had not been the one to pay his ransom? It better be because the God of Wine was busy dying with laughter at his exploits!
  
  "Respectfully," Perseus scowled in a not very respectful tone, "in order to do that, maybe it would have been better for the curse to not be monstrously powerful. I can deal with someone transformed into a snake hybrid, no matter how trained she is. But the snakes playing sentinels and magical detectors on her head are already bad enough. And then there's this awful power which changes the living into stone-"
  
  "The Petrifaction Curse is not my curse," Annabeth's mother interrupted, and for the first time, something looking like frustration or anger was visible on her face.
  
  "Really?" the son of Poseidon questioned in a voice betraying his disbelief.
  
  "Really," the Goddess of Strategy answered flatly. "I have some authority over different species of snakes; I am not going to deny it. This part is my fault. I was angry, and I cursed her."
  
  It must be something she regretted too, because for now, the name Medusa hadn't been uttered once in this conversation, and it wasn't because speaking a being's name could alert said monster of your location.
  
  "But the power to change the living into stone has never been within my power to bless or curse someone with. I do not have this ability."
  
  This really was a morning which began with bad news. Theoretically, you could add one curse on top of another, but the more powerful the curse, the more chances it was going to turn ugly. Yet Medusa had not been transformed into a mass of tentacles and mutated flesh, but into something truly...uniquely monstrous.
  
  That didn't leave many possibilities, and if he had to be honest, Perseus thought all of them were problematic in the extreme.
  
  "Possession," the irony was very much not enjoyable, given what he had started with Miranda and the Sand Drakon.
  
  "Yes," his Goddess visitor replied.
  
  She didn't add anything else...and to be honest, was there anything that could be said?
  
  Perseus grimaced deep inside.
  
  It was, in many ways, an impossible Quest.
  
  For thirty seconds at least, silence was king and sovereign.
  
  "I hope this is enough to repay the ransom in full."
  
  It better be. The carnage awaiting the Suicide Squad on Forge MP-42 didn't need more complications.
  
  "It will be. So I swear."
  
  The Goddess paused.
  
  "But my protection will end when you free Hephaestus. By your actions, many members of the Council want to get rid of you."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "Let me guess...I am to be abandoned in the Sea of Monsters, never to return to New York. And I suppose that there are wheels in motion to steal the Golden Fleece, thus guaranteeing there is no need to pay the Suicide Squad with a single Drachma for the bloodshed done in Olympus' name."
  
  A second was sufficient for him to give the Goddess a mask of utter vindictiveness.
  
  "As you warned me, I am returning the favour. I want it entered for the records that if the Lord of the Sky sends one of his armies to the Triumvirate's island-fortress, it is going end in a disastrous defeat. And whoever he hired to stab me in the back, this time, I will not waste my time creating a Gallowborne Division. I will crucify them."
  
  "The words have been duly noted."
  
  Well, clearly this was Zeus' idea, and Athena had been against it. It was really typical arrogance from the most arrogant deity of Olympus.
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "Fine. I am healed, and there is little time. I suppose I better get back to work."
  
  "Yes, do so." Athena commanded. "And Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "Yes, Lady Goddess?"
  
  "If you break Annabeth's heart, I will kill you."
  
  And on this promise, the Goddess of Wisdom left. This was for the better, because he couldn't think of a good repartee...
  
  24 December 2006, the beach of C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  Annabeth had to admit, she was fully relieved when the two Champions came into view, swimming forcefully to reach the pristine beach.
  
  And it was kind of strange, because they weren't exactly friends or anything like that.
  
  But after the madness, after the chaos and the mayhem, there were certain bonds created between each other.
  
  Most of them were emotions including despair, misery, and resignation about whatever madness Perseus Jackson had in store for them next, but still.
  
  After the blood and the fury of the battle, it was good to see two members of the Suicide Squad were alive.
  
  As they advanced, the blonde daughter of Athena had to amend her words though.
  
  There was something...dark approaching. The two young women looked almost the same as they when they had sailed away from New Byzantium, except a bit older.
  
  However, Athena could easily tell they were making an effort to present an appearance of normality.
  
  Drew was the first to speak.
  
  "You can sense it, do you?" The daughter of Aphrodite smiled, and it was a very predatory expression.
  
  Denying would be futile, and Annabeth didn't try.
  
  "You have a part of the Underworld inside you now."
  
  "Yes," Jade replied, before breathing out. Immediately, her hair turned entirely white while her eyes shifted to a glowing magical blue irradiating frost and cold. "But you don't have to worry, we will stay with you until the end of the Great Quest. Jackson was very careful when it came to negotiating his oaths."
  
  This time, the grey-eyed Demigoddess couldn't help but groaning in consternation.
  
  "Ah yes, you've discovered part of what he was busy plotting in the shadows." Drew said in sympathy. "Did he explain everything when he arrived?"
  
  "No, he collapsed on the spot and left us to deal with to deal with the fallout. He has been unconscious for the better part of a day now-"
  
  "He's woken up a few minutes ago," Jade reassured her, looking in the direction of the spa with her powerful eyes. "I can sense his presence."
  
  This time Annabeth had to show her surprise, despite her efforts to hide it.
  
  "You can sense him from that far?"
  
  The ex-Huntress smirked.
  
  "Annabeth, do you have any idea how powerful he has become? Our dear leader is insane, that much isn't in question, he had to be to push the Primordial of the Night to a challenge by Champion-"
  
  "He did WHAT?"
  
  The Champions of Persephone and Khione exchanged very ironic smirks.
  
  Oh, Annabeth didn't like that at all...
  
  "In all fairness, said Primordial was about to devour him body and soul," Jade pointed out reasonably. "It wasn't like he had a lot of choices."
  
  "He stole some old flames of Helios to kill an entire army of Strixes and defeat the biggest Lydian Drakon of Tartarus, Drew," Drew Tanaka sniffed with an expression reminding her of the times before the Suicide Squad. "Perseus has always a lot of choices. It's just that he's always deciding to pursue the craziest outcomes, no matter how much it costs him."
  
  On this one, the blonde Demigoddess had to admit the currently black-haired Demigoddess was completely right.
  
  "In that case," Jade smiled, "maybe we should hurry? I, for one, have no doubt that his third journey into the Underworld has not convinced our not-so-beloved leader to stop the race of madness. The Great Quest is not over, after all."
  
  Annabeth grimaced...and began to run in direction of C.C's Spa, escorted by a lot of Amazons which had the same idea.
  
  24 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort, the Sealing Chamber
  
  "PERSEUS JACKSON!"
  
  Good news: the surviving Huntresses didn't shoot silver arrows this time.
  
  Bad news: given how much the leader of the Suicide Squad was grinning, this state of affair was likely not going to last.
  
  "Yes, this is my name," the son of Poseidon proudly spoke, not a hint of apology in his voice. "Though these last days, I have entertained it to change it. I think 'Perseus Hellwalker Jackson' sounds more...formidable. Wouldn't you agree?"
  
  There were days you really should stay in your bed, because it really didn't pay off to wake up and acknowledge the world was filled with madness.
  
  "Jackson." Ethan wasn't going to groan. He wasn't going to groan. "It doesn't work like that."
  
  "Well, if it doesn't, it should!" The finger raised didn't sound threatening, but the lesson about to be delivered reeked of madness already. "I mean, in the Episode I of Star Wars, I believe the film scenario-makers lost a golden opportunity to explain where the name Skywalker came from. It should have been earned by a slave boy achieving what no one else could: winning the Tatooine Pod-Race!"
  
  Ethan sighed...and cleared his throat.
  
  "So yes, I went to Hell thrice, and escaped every time with my life. Glory to me, glory to the Hellwalker-"
  
  "Barely," a Huntress growled angrily, with the tone of someone who wanted to correct that 'mistake' as soon as possible. "You were almost dead on your feet when you returned here."
  
  "That's what the Golden Fleece is for, no?" The son of Poseidon shrugged, like it was no big deal, except there was a little problem with it...
  
  The son of Nemesis cleared his throat for the second time.
  
  "Actually, I didn't use the Golden Fleece on you yet, Jackson. I used it on the rest of the Suicide Squad first...well, the ones who needed it. You recovered thanks to the healing of C.C's Spa personnel...and your own abilities."
  
  "Oh?" Miracle of miracles, there was something Perseus Jackson didn't know? "Well, I'm naturally awesome, in addition to being invincible, of course."
  
  Ethan facepalmed and at least two-thirds of the Suicide Squad present followed suit.
  
  "Seriously, Jackson," Elvis Knight complained as several locks were opened, freeing a certain duo of penguins. "How in the name of the Pit are you doing it? Fergus Cook tried to shout it in the middle of the beach battle, and he got skewered by Amazon's spears immediately after."
  
  "He did?" Perseus grinned. "I knew I was going to make disciples before the end of this Great Quest!"
  
  "Dead disciples," Bianca di Angelo grumbled, stepping forwards. "We took huge losses, Mister Hellwalker-Invincible. The Gallowborne Division was wiped out. And several of us would have been useless for months if we hadn't great healers and the Golden Fleece to heal us."
  
  At least the black-haired Demigod didn't smile anymore. The serious expression was frightening, however. In fact, with this new red eye surrounded by darkness, it looked like incredibly threatening.
  
  "I never hid from any of you that if we didn't come here first, the assault against Forge MP-42 was going to end in a one-sided slaughter, and yes, it would be the Titaness' forces doing the slaughtering."
  
  "And..." Luke Castellan intervened in a voice far more subdued than his usual one. "In your opinion, have we done enough to avoid the slaughter you predicted?"
  
  "I believe so."
  
  And his head turned towards the small prison where the daughter of Demeter was chained and kept immobile by powerful enchantments.
  
  "But before anything else, I am going to make sure Miranda is able to control the powers of her 'passenger'."
  
  "There's nothing to be done!"
  
  Here the big problems were about to start.
  
  Ethan wasn't surprised that Perseus didn't even flinch when two irate Demigoddesses drew their swords and took fighting stances.
  
  "Hylla Ramirez-Arellano. Reyna Ramirez-Arellano. The daughters of Bellona. Legionnaires of the Twelfth, once assigned to the carrier of the Expeditionary Force, officially missing in action after an idiot decided it was a good idea to attack C.C's Spa and Resort without any magical support."
  
  "You know who you are?" The youngest of the sisters asked astonished.
  
  The expression she received from the lone green eye was one of pity.
  
  "Unlike some pathetic Roman leaders, I did my homework before leaving for the Zone Mortalis, and it included compiling a list of the Legionnaires that Olympus sent to its death." The leader of the Suicide Squad said emotionlessly. "Next question, please?"
  
  "Why shouldn't we kill where you stand? You...you..."
  
  "I made sure you were involved in an orgy, and if the healed wounds on Dakota's back are any indication, one you thoroughly enjoyed. Yes, how sad."
  
  Reyna was the first to attack...and Perseus didn't even try to draw his own weapon.
  
  The swords of Imperial Gold were impressively resistant. They had to be, given the calibre of foes the Roman Legionnaires were expected to slay.
  
  This one broke in two neat parts when the son of Poseidon used his own arm to counter the blow.
  
  The daughters of Bellona gaped.
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "Welcome in the Suicide Squad, Hylla, Reyna."
  
  "Wait a minute...we aren't part of-"
  
  "Per the Achaia Convention, our hosts are to treat us courteously and not make a single physical threat against a member of the Suicide Squad. Since you evidently did that, either your mistress threw you to the wolves...or you are already members of the Suicide Squad, making this an internal affair. Which is it, oh daughters of the Roman War Goddess?"
  
  Silence answered him.
  
  By the whip of his mother, the son of Nemesis had to acknowledge that Jackson had a talent to turn the situations around that no one else, not even the Gods, could equal.
  
  "Now please don't shout and keep conversations to a minimum. I have to uphold a promise. Asterius!"
  
  "Yes, short one?" The Minotaur grunted.
  
  "The chains aren't going to resist for much longer." Many were unnerved a bit by that, including the Amazons who had been busy laughing as the conversation took place. "Hold her in place while I create the seal."
  
  "Jackson..." this time the daughter of Hades looked deadly serious. "I understand why you feel you have to try, but it's not possible. The essence of the Sand Dragon is way too powerful, and classical demon-containing seals are just going to fail in time. The Immortal Sorceress and I are not friends, but she had a point when she came to see Miranda and said it was hopeless. The Drakonic essence is going to tear apart everything organs and muscles before attacking her mind. If I had the resources of a Dread Empire behind me, we could do more but-"
  
  Perseus Jackson yawned.
  
  There was a wave of a hand, and the transparent prison disappeared, revealing the struggling form of Miranda, whose hair had lost almost all colour in the last twenty-four hours. One of her eyes had turned a reptilian yellow. Her skin was sickly, and this was when you didn't consider that on the arms and legs, some scales had grown to replace the skin.
  
  The Demigod who had descended into the Underworld three times searched inside his pocket and removed a little object...one Ethan honestly admitted he didn't recognise at all.
  
  But Bianca di Angelo did.
  
  "It is an inkpot, Jackson."
  
  "Indeed." Perseus nodded. "To be accurate, it is an inkpot filled with magical ink...the very blood of a Primordial imbued with the ashes of the Underworld."
  
  The Lightning Thief stared at him speechless.
  
  Everyone in the room did the same.
  
  Perseus Jackson used the opportunity to take a lot of pencil brushes from his pocket and get to work.
  
  As Jackson had told them, the first chain broke five seconds later.
  
  But the Minotaur was already there, grabbing the freed arm, and placing it behind Miranda with inhuman strength most of the Demigods here wouldn't have been able to summon.
  
  Something hissed, using the daughter of Demeter's lips to speak hateful words.
  
  "You arrive too late, son of Poseidon. She was too weak to control me."
  
  The son of Poseidon raised an eyebrow and opened the inkpot.
  
  Ethan shivered immediately, and it was as if all sources of light faltered, before illuminating the room with only a tiny fraction of their former power.
  
  "I am a Drakon-Slayer." The red eye shone malevolently in the midst of this incredible scene. "I freed the former Titaness of your species, and assisted in the rise of another who will rule the Drakons of Frost. Taming and sealing you is just me continuing a Quest! ALPHA!"
  
  Perseus ripped apart the decoloured clothes of Miranda, revealing her belly, and then he began to use the pencil brushes in a frenetic manner.
  
  And damn, he worked fast.
  
  With every second, the swirl of pure night emerging from the inkpot was hurled on Miranda's skin, and then changed into several dark glyphs. Ethan was pretty sure it wasn't Greek, though the style seemed to be a cousin of it.
  
  "No! You will not use my power! I refuse! I am the Messenger! I am the One who buries the Empires into the desert storms! I AM-"
  
  "Shut up." Perseus commanded, and while the power of the Drakon grew to be suffocating and the Minotaur vacillated, the two words of Charmspeak struck with the might of an Angry God. "This is almost over."
  
  There were many hisses, and grains of sand tried to coalesce to attack the 'painter'.
  
  Unfortunately for the Drakon, there were now hundreds of glyphs, and the flow of liquid darkness ceased.
  
  And now that they were added in a coherent structure, Ethan saw that the entire painting effort strangely appeared as a trident. A Black Trident, made from ink and darkness.
  
  The sand began to fall, a rain which looked as beautiful as it was lethal.
  
  "By three, they came. By three, they will rule into Hell. By three, I have survived where no mortal is meant to thread. I am Perseus the Hellwalker, and I seal you for three thousand nights! OMEGA!"
  
  Ethan wasn't too proud to say that the sheer power their leader conjured with these words all brought them to their knees.
  
  You couldn't breathe.
  
  You recognised the words, but they washed all over you, and suddenly it was over.
  
  The sand had disappeared.
  
  The chains had snapped.
  
  "Wow, wow..." the son of Poseidon was heard coughing. "It was really close. It isn't like I could order more of the ink on Amazon..."
  
  There was more coughing, and as Ethan was able to watch again the Earthshaker's son, he knew the effort had cost him a lot. Worse, he hadn't recovered completely from his previous ordeal...
  
  "You really need the Golden Fleece now," the son of Nemesis told him.
  
  "Yes. Yes I do. But before...Miranda?" The daughter of Demeter was immobile on the cold white floor, with Asterius the Minotaur standing as a dark sentinel over her. "Do you hear me?"
  
  A loud groan, a very human groan, answered him.
  
  Plenty of Demigods relaxed.
  
  Miranda Gardiner slowly moved until she was on her knees.
  
  "It hurt."
  
  "Well, sorry about that, but-"
  
  She opened her eyes.
  
  Yellow eyes. Yellow reptilian eyes.
  
  "IT HURT YOU BASTARD!"
  
  And in a move that was so fast no one had the time to react, Miranda Gardiner was standing and striking.
  
  SLAP!
  
  The slap echoed thunderously, and Ethan had no doubt this was going to leave a very red cheek.
  
  "Okay, maybe I deserved this a bit-"
  
  SLAP!
  
  The other cheek received the same 'treatment'.
  
  "Do you have anything else to say in your defence?" the Drakon-Possessed daughter of Demeter growled, with murder in her eyes.
  
  "Err...everyone lived happily after in the end?" The leader of the Suicide Squad blinked. "This wasn't what I was supposed to say, right?"
  
  An aura of sheer murder began to cloak the now sandy-haired Demigoddess.
  
  "Okay, I hear a Goddess calling me in the distance! Ciao!"
  
  "RETURN HERE AND TAKE YOUR BEATING LIKE A MAN, JACKSON!"
  
  After all these adventures, wasn't it understandable that everyone exploded in laughter watching the son of Poseidon run away for his life?
  
  24 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort, the Tropical Pools
  
  Perseus Jackson wasn't late. He wasn't early either.
  
  But if there was something that could be said for the son of Poseidon, it was that he was quite dishevelled.
  
  His cheeks were also quite red.
  
  "Quester problems?" Calypso asked, as if the whispers of C.C's Spa and Resort had not arrived to her ears.
  
  "Nothing that time and large bribes can't be solved in due time," if there hadn't been this mad red eye encircled by the dark, the Titaness could almost have been fooled by the reasonable tone.
  
  Almost.
  
  "Will she accept?" She asked as she left the pool, and got no reaction from the Demigod.
  
  Calypso was a bit impressed, because to be honest, she had chosen a very attractive body today. As the darkness burned the old her, it hadn't been a problem to turn her hair black and give her skin a shade which was somewhere between silver moonlight and ivory. And Circe had accepted to loan her some quite revealing two-pieces swimsuits which left her almost naked.
  
  It wasn't that the son of Poseidon wasn't watching her. He was. It was more that he was studying her on a level which didn't register things like sexual attraction.
  
  "I don't know." The Demigod replied bluntly.
  
  Calypso raised an eyebrow.
  
  "The truth, without any evasive speech?"
  
  "I was told, in no ambiguous terms, to be more honest about my plans and every contingency I keep in mind." Perseus Jackson rolled his shoulders while taking a fruit juice from one of the nymph servants after a polite 'thanks'. "Let's see how long it will take to the Questers to wish a return for the old state of affairs."
  
  "Honesty has its advantages." The former General of the Titan Army pointed out.
  
  "It can also become the rope which will strangle you when the odds are stacked against you." Perseus replied as easily before sipping his non-alcoholic beverage. "To return to the topic which matters, Miranda has just been stabilised. She will then learn to use her powers and acknowledge the raw power of the sand with the Drakon solidly dissolving and returning the sand as an elemental force. As the leader of the Suicide Squad, I have fulfilled my duties of protection and guardianship. If you want her as your Champion, it is your decision, not mine."
  
  Calypso wasn't surprised. The oaths the black-haired Demigod had sworn left very little in terms of leeway. If he tried to influence her, the judgement of Styx would not be long in coming, and it would not be merciful.
  
  "I will have a long conversation with Miranda Gardiner soon, then."
  
  Calypso had been dreaming a lot in the last hours, and many of them had been of darkness and black sands.
  
  The former Warden of the Garden of the Hesperides had received visions of a large city on the shores of the Styx Sea, a Grand Bazaar of where all the commodities in existence could be bought or sold. And where the Sea of Hell had been waiting on one side, three large realms had been coexisting where the Underworld's continent was located. The Titaness had flown over gargantuan canyons where magma flowed and audacious miners prayed before trying to recover priceless gemstones. Calypso had transformed as blizzards raged and primal dances were made while snow fell high enough to arrive to her belt. And then there had been the last third realm. A Domain of black sands and calm oases, a kingdom of beauty and danger, for the Hydras guarded the oases and the desert created powerful mirages which would ensnare the unwelcome visitors.
  
  It was her realm, Calypso Tenebrae, knew, and it was waiting for her.
  
  Yet unlike the other Queen of Hells, the daughter of Tethys didn't have a Champion. There was nothing preventing her from waiting for her, but her instincts urged her to claim one within hours. Persephone and Khione had both accepted a Demigoddess of this Great Quest, and there were many reasons, among them the sheer potential they all had.
  
  "I didn't have time to apologise, by the way."
  
  This time, Calypso felt a great deal of amusement in her heart.
  
  "I didn't mean for you to exchange one prison for another."
  
  "Whether the Underworld will be my prison or not depends a lot on my new husband and his other two wives," Calypso mused. "I am cautiously optimistic in that regard."
  
  Hades wasn't his brother, and unless he wanted to lie by way of dreams - something that would be both out of character and stupid - he really would leave her plenty of freedom to rule her Underworld Domain as she wished.
  
  "And in the unlikely case it isn't the case, well, the size of the prison is in many ways greater than the world mortals are free to enjoy while their hearts beat inside their chests. I won't be alone. Hell will not be another Ogygia."
  
  "True," Perseus Jackson conceded. "I expected you to be angrier."
  
  "Political marriages were common in the age where the Titans ruled supreme." The General commented idly. "I would have been forced to accept one if the Titanomachy had not forced my father and many others to focus on war to the exclusion of everything else."
  
  The glance the Demigod gave her proved beyond doubt he had never been married...how long it would stay true when he had all these Demigoddesses deciding to rein in his incredibly destructive plans was one of those questions that had to make a killing in bets and other forms of gambling.
  
  "How long do you intend to wait before challenging my mother?"
  
  "How much time do you need to completely master your new form?"
  
  Yes, she should have expected he would answer question with another question...
  
  "Two days," she admitted. "Every day after obviously will bolster my powers to a significant degree, but the closer we will be to the deadline of one moon, the greater the risks will be for every Demigod, Demigoddess, and Legacy you will commit to the battle."
  
  "Excellent," and for the first time, the infernal grin was back. "It should take three days to accomplish my own preparations, gather the reinforcements, rest, and make some necessary bargains with our host."
  
  "And what do you intend to do, General Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "Why, General Calypso Tenebrae, I intend to fight the most epic battle the Sea of Monsters will ever see in a thousand lifetimes."
  
  It was a smile filled with a determination of steel.
  
  "And then I am going to win it, to prove once again to Olympus that it can be done."
  
  The lone red-eye didn't twitch.
  
  "But I suppose it was more about asking the details of the operation?"
  
  Calypso returned the smile.
  
  24 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort, the Solar Dinner Restaurant
  
  The evening began rather spectacularly.
  
  Yes, Dakota was speaking about Hera slapping Perseus Jackson.
  
  The cheeks of the son of Poseidon had been red all day, and it wasn't likely to change for the next hours.
  
  Jokes aside, though, the evening was really good. Their not-esteemed leader had decided to apologise by booking an entire wing of C.C's Spa and Resort in order to offer them a highly expensive Christmas Eve's dinner.
  
  Okay, nobody had given him the price tag, but the son of Bacchus was sure it had to be really expensive. The large numbers of delicious crustaceans delivered in exquisite plates combined with the divinely-scenting sauces were not something you saw every day at a table of New Byzantium.
  
  And it had been just the beginning. From the lobbers to the fruits, every bite of food smelled and tasted better than Ambrosia ever did.
  
  Alas, all things had to come to an end, and while the 'Christmas Dinner' was rather heavy on the stomach, it remained quite tolerable...meaning it didn't take too long.
  
  And that now that everyone was satisfied from a culinary point of view, there was nothing stopping a duo of Roman sisters from facing Jackson once again.
  
  "Apologise," Hylla growled.
  
  "I am supposed to apologise when you got a sizeable power boost from all your intimate battle?" Perseus Jackson outright snickered to their faces. "Try again."
  
  Dakota wanted to scream in warning. It was going to get explosive.
  
  But to his great surprise, the eldest of the Ramirez-Arellano sisters managed to control herself.
  
  Instead, the daughter of Bellona turned her expression into a nasty smirk.
  
  "Someone might wonder why you are so insistent in powering up the women of the Suicide Squad. The Amazons had quite a few theories about it, you know."
  
  "Oh?" For once, the interest didn't seem to be faked at all.
  
  "Yes, there are a lot of them who believe you are a perverted male who is trying to gather a harem of Demigoddesses around you."
  
  Perseus looked at her silently for a couple of seconds...and then exploded in laughter.
  
  "Oh, that's a good one." The red eye shone with joy and malevolence. "Can we do it again?"
  
  "You're finding it extremely funny, this is not-"
  
  The black-haired son of the Earthshaker rolled his eyes and raised a finger to stop her from continuing the argument.
  
  "While I am sure this amusing theory is backed by some facts, it is not the truth. Do you want to hear the truth, daughter of War and Bloodshed? The reason why I am triggering events whose outcome ends in Demigoddesses getting more powerful?"
  
  "Yes!"
  
  "This is because you are weak."
  
  Silence suddenly ruled, and Dakota realised that many conversations all over the gardens and the pools had abruptly stopped.
  
  "There are a few exceptions, of course." The mad boy continued with the shadow of an apology somewhere around his lips. "Clarisse needed a path, not raw power, she already had the former. But overall, yes, I did what I did because many Demigoddesses needed a considerable power boost. Otherwise they were all going to die during the First Great Quest I was ordered to lead, or worse."
  
  The two sisters had no repartee for that, and Perseus Jackson took it as a sign to continue.
  
  "Unlike many Demigoddesses, the Demigods of this fine Suicide Squad didn't really need the initial power boost to survive, and most of them haven't decided the path they were going to take. As a consequence, I was only tangentially involved."
  
  "Tangentially involved?" Reyna seethed.
  
  "Was Dakota's performance in bed that unsatisfactory?" Perseus raised an eyebrow. "Assuming you used a bed that is."
  
  Dakota couldn't see his own face, but he had to be redder than Reyna and Hylla...and the two girls were as crimson as tomatoes could be.
  
  And they weren't the only ones to blush when listening to this conversation.
  
  "No! I mean, yes!"
  
  "So you used a bed at some point," Perseus, insane madman, had grabbed a note book at some point. "On a scale from one to ten, how would mark the-"
  
  Hylla had to restrain Reyna from trying to kill the leader of the Suicide Squad on the spot.
  
  "Jackson, stop doing...that." Hylla ordered. "After you brainwashed us-"
  
  "No." The son of Poseidon suddenly returned to a more sinister grin. "I have many flaws, oh daughter of War, but I do not brainwash people into following my commands. If you want to throw this sin at someone's feet, try our hostess. What I did when triggering the orgy you so eagerly participated in was to lower the inhibitions of everyone present in this VIP suite."
  
  "This was dishonourable!"
  
  This time the roll of the eyes was so exaggerated it had to be seen from Olympus itself.
  
  "Stop being so dramatic. I know our hostess handed out magical contraceptives to everyone in time to prevent any untimely 'accidents'." Decidedly, Perseus had a gift to make girls blush. "And yes, I know the Immortal Sorceress kicked you out officially as you are now members of the Suicide Squad, but it is not the end of the world."
  
  "We had a proposal to join the Amazons. It is now impossible, thanks to you."
  
  "Why?" Perseus asked.
  
  Judging by the gaping and the shocked expressions, this was not the reaction they expected.
  
  "The Amazons are your enemies." Hylla tried.
  
  "Nah, there's just an extremely competitive environment regarding certain misappropriated artefacts and weapons." Perseus smirked for a few seconds. "If they want you to join, who I am to oppose it? You will have to wait for the end of this Great Quest, though. This is the only restriction I am going to enforce."
  
  "You really don't have any problem with anyone from New Constantinople joining the Amazons?"
  
  Perseus gave Reyna his 'I don't care' expression.
  
  "Why should I? I am a Demigod who was ordered to successfully complete two Great Quests, one of which is ongoing. What you do outside of these adventures is none of my concern as long as it stays reasonable."
  
  In Perseus' throat, the word resonated like a joke.
  
  "You have potential when it comes to fighting skills, and you are Demigoddesses. You will be highly-valued recruits for the Amazons." Perseus smirked. "Just don't forget to take your boy-toy with you."
  
  "JACKSON!" And this time, it was his own voice which had screamed in outrage...and many Demigods laughed, the bastards.
  
  "As for why it is in your best interest, Reyna, Hylla," Perseus grinned, ignoring his outburst, "well, I thought it was obvious. Participating in the Great Quest will give you a small share of the loot, and reputation. For now, you have been only associated with the disastrous fiasco of the Roman Expeditionary Force; if you fight under my banner and end up being part of the crew who will have conquered the Sea of Monsters, no one will care about your past defeats."
  
  "You made...plenty of good points." The eldest daughter of Bellona replied. "But I can help but think you have more plots which involve meddling with our future."
  
  Perseus Jackson laughed gregariously and walked away. This time neither Reyna nor Hylla chose to follow him.
  
  This conversation had been really satisfying, in more ways than one.
  
  Hopefully, this would be the beginning of a plan that would lead the Amazons to reform. The current Queen was old, and Hylla could be a worthy successor. One which hopefully would lead to the progressive abandonment of the male slave trade the female warriors were doing in everything but name.
  
  Yes, the Amazons were better than the Huntresses - they could and did fall in love pretty often - but they treated their male partners awfully. 'Boy-toys' was not alas an insult, it was the way things worked in the 'Amazon Kingdom'. Perseus had seen it firsthand when he had sneaked inside their main warehouses.
  
  But it was a concern for the future. For now, removing his shoes and socks, the son of Poseidon plunged feet and legs into the water, and waited for another member of the Suicide Squad to begin the second post-dinner conversation.
  
  Fortunately for his impatience, it was a matter of seconds before she arrived.
  
  The former Dread Empress was predictable that way.
  
  "If you tell me 'I told you so', I will slap you."
  
  "You would neither be the first nor the last one tonight," Perseus assured her. "What it is with all this 'let's slap the son of Poseidon' game, by the way?"
  
  "Perhaps you deserved it?" The daughter of Hades suggested.
  
  "Nonsense," the former Tyrant said cheerfully. "And remind me for the next Great Quest to write a rule how slapping me will be considered high treason, and be punished by wearing bright orange for the rest of the Quest."
  
  "This might increase the number of slaps, if anything." Bianca told him with a voice soaked in scepticism.
  
  "Good! I have a lot of orange clothes to hand out."
  
  Ah, the groan was music to his ears!
  
  "Anyway, I happened to listen to your conversation with the former Legionnaires."
  
  "How shocking! I'm sure you were only one of out a hundred to do so. You know, beyond the Suicide Squad, there were about fifty more Amazons trying to be discreet, our hostess, and more Goddesses who will recognise themselves."
  
  Bianca huffed.
  
  "It figures you would notice them too. Anyway, this isn't what I wanted to talk about. I fought...I fought our hostess, and I lost very badly."
  
  The young Demigod was pretty sure the 'hostess' part would have been replaced by something far less courteous if they didn't happen to be inside C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "I can't afford to let my magical skills stagnate. I have to become stronger. But if I stay as I am, I won't be able to grow in a way which matters. So I've been thinking about my options."
  
  "And my previous conversation created the idea in your head that the Amazons are a possible option?"
  
  "Yes. You disapprove?" While she wasn't going to like it if he said it aloud, Perseus thought in that moment that her defensive tone showed how human the former Dread Empress was, beneath a layer of confidence and arrogance.
  
  "My dear Bianca," the leader of the Suicide Squad smiled, "I am many things, but I am not a hypocrite. I just told two sisters that I didn't care what they did after this Great Quest. I am not going to say something for them and immediately change the rules for another member of the Suicide Squad. That would be short-sighted, stupid, and of course it would reek of hypocrisy."
  
  And yes, all of that was true.
  
  "And yes, before you ask the question, I think the Amazons would accept you. Their business model involves the handling of many magical artefacts and disposable sorcerous items, and to reduce the risks, the benefit of having ambitious witches and sorceresses is kind of obvious. You're talented and powerful; I have no doubt you would be hired the same day you declare your intention to join them. But there are going to be things you might not find to your taste."
  
  "If it is a worry about not having a 'boy-toy', I can find a solution rather easily, I assure you."
  
  Perseus chuckled. That said, when it came towards it, unlike many Demigods and Demigoddesses of the Suicide Squad, he had really no idea where her sexual preferences lied. Bianca loved power, but besides that, the son of Poseidon was very much in the dark.
  
  "I was more referring to the fact that for all their mercenary actions in service of our hostess, the Amazons are still theoretically and technically servants of Olympus. It's just that currently, with their patron God prisoner, they are more or less free to do what they want."
  
  Although to be honest, even when Ares was not a prisoner, the God of War gave an enormous amount of freedom to the Amazons. The idea to build a mega-corporation which would trigger trade and conventional wars across the world was the Amazons' idea, not Ares'.
  
  "You are saying the Gods might oppose it."
  
  "I am saying that whatever you decide to do, you better leave before we sail back to New Byzantium, because I don't think Olympus will let you work for the Amazons, officially or unofficially. Yes, you did not infuriate the Lord of the Skies as much as I did, but you were an accomplice, and he won't have forgotten your little robbery and other usurpation attempts. So whatever you decide, once we leave this island, don't shout it for everyone to hear, because I can already guess certain deities would prefer to drag you back in chains to New Byzantium."
  
  "All of this assumes, clearly, that we won't be declared enemies of the Gods in a few days." Bianca remarked.
  
  "Yes, it does." Perseus clicked his tongue and continued. "If we end up this Quest as wanted fugitives, something I sadly admit is a possibility, working for the Amazons may not be an option for you. Hylla and Reyna might be forgiven; you and I will not be included in any amnesty. And in that case, your best bet is to convince one of the Immortal Sorceresses to act as your instructor."
  
  "Lou Ellen has already been chosen by one of the Immortal Sorceresses."
  
  "That leaves you two out of three, Bianca."
  
  "You always have an answer for everything, don't you?"
  
  "It's a gift," Perseus said smoothly. "And speaking of gifts..."
  
  The black-haired Demigod looked at his watch, and sure enough, it was time.
  
  "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
  
  25 December 2006, the beach of C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  The fireworks were splendid.
  
  Leo was a bit miffed not having been authorised to see how they were made, though.
  
  All the pyrotechnics were superb, but he didn't know how they worked?
  
  "Superb isn't it?"
  
  The voice caused him to jump in surprise.
  
  And yes, yes, it was the leader, the Big Boss, the most insane Demigod of all Creation, also known as Perseus Jackson.
  
  "Err..."
  
  "You shouldn't stay alone, Amigo!"
  
  "Why? Because something bad is going to happen if I do?"
  
  One second later, Leo wished he could place a fist in his mouth to stop himself from saying that. Stupid, stupid!
  
  "No," fortunately, the son of Poseidon didn't look offended. "I'm just saying that staying alone like that isn't going to convince the girls to come to you."
  
  "I'm not trying to seduce girls!" The son of Hephaestus protested loudly...and regretting instantly, as in the distance, many heads turned to watch him.
  
  And despite the fireworks providing the only illumination on the beach, Leo knew several Demigoddesses had excellent night vision.
  
  "Then perhaps you shouldn't have stared at Lady Calypso all dinner, Amigo."
  
  "Err...I didn't..." Leo blushed.
  
  "I assure you, you did."
  
  The younger Demigod wished at that moment the earth would open and hide him.
  
  "You are saying I...oh Gods, I'm an idiot, am I not?"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, Amigo! You just had your first crush."
  
  Somehow, it didn't reassure him at all, because it was Perseus Jackson speaking...
  
  "I...she is beautiful in darkness, she is...she is..."
  
  "She is the darkness, yes." The son of Poseidon finished. "You are the fire."
  
  Leo expected something like 'it would never have worked between you two', and one or two evil grins, but it didn't happen.
  
  Jackson didn't laugh or mock him.
  
  "No girl likes it when I speak about machinery or something like tinkering the fireworks," he mourned.
  
  And no, the Telekhine girls didn't count. They were big, big sharks. Leo wasn't interested in trying to date a demon-fish.
  
  "Girls prefer it when someone gives them the opportunity to speak," Perseus corrected, keeping his eyes on the fireworks. "If you can't restrain yourself and end up stealing all the conversation time for yourself, they are frustrated to begin with and then they get really bored...or angry. A monologue from time to time is fine, Amigo. 'Monologues all the time' is not advised. This is a master of monologues teaching you his wisdom."
  
  "Err..."
  
  "But it is enough about crushes and immortal girls stealing your heart." Leo blushed again. "I was told you experienced a flashy transformation during the last battle."
  
  "What? Oh, yes. I was just about to become super-powerful when the Amazons defeated me with a nasty trick! I was about to become a superhero! I was about to become-"
  
  "Invincible? No, you weren't. In fact, the Amazons saved your life, Leo Valdez. If they had not doused you with multiple jets, you would be really, really dead before Ethan could have any chance to heal you with the Golden Fleece?"
  
  "What?" Leo really felt like a poor parrot tonight...
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad sighed.
  
  "Leo, your father gave you a rare gift when you were sired. You can create and manipulate the flames, and you have a near-supernatural resistance to the element of fire. But that's all. You are resistant to fire attacks, much like I'm resistant to water. If your body burns too hot inside, you overheat."
  
  "But...but...err..."
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "You used the flames of the Titan of the Sun! And you didn't have the overheat-thing!"
  
  "I did, but only for a few seconds, and I did injure myself badly. And yes, I am not a child of Fire. But unlike you, I bathed into Drakonic blood. You didn't."
  
  "Oh..." Leo swallowed. "Oh...I screwed up, didn't I?"
  
  "You did the best you could do with the tools you had." Perseus replied. "You saved the part of the Suicide Squad and defeated a Destroyer. Take pride in that."
  
  "Err...thanks...I think."
  
  The compliment made him a bit uneasy...mainly because at the time, he had improvised, and his thoughts of the final seconds had been to do something, anything to stop the giant silver automaton from killing them all.
  
  It had worked, but it had been so painful!
  
  "Err...speaking of the Drakon...err...wouldn't it have been good for me to bathe in its blood too?"
  
  This time, the red eye turned and the smirk reappeared. Ah hell, he had said something stupid...again.
  
  "You are a Child of Fire, Amigo. The Drakon was the Primordial Drakon of Ice. Do you want to imagine what would have happened if the sea of Ice engulfed your body of Fire?"
  
  "Err...nothing good?"
  
  "As some penguins of our fearsome squad would say: Kaboom." Perseus Jackson bared his teeth and grinned.
  
  "Err...I will not do it again?"
  
  "Not without preparation at least," and no, the son of Poseidon didn't miss his surprise. "As I said, the transformation was very interesting. The big problem was that your body and your soul weren't prepared for the change. As long as it is true, trying to repeat the same stunt will result in you overheating again."
  
  And if Leo wasn't doused in water immediately, he would die.
  
  "What...what I am going to do, then?" He wasn't whining. He wasn't whining! Really! "If he can't use too much of my fire in battle, I have nothing! I am too thin, too small-"
  
  "The last overheating saw you gain two centimetres of height in a single night." The other Demigod killed his argument effortlessly.
  
  "Err...it's true? You aren't joking? Lying?"
  
  "This is the truth." The 'Hellwalker' assured him. "Now I see two possibilities for you. The first is rather risky. I throw you into a large fire and force you to overheat, then plunge you into a pool and heal you with the Golden Fleece. Rinse and Repeat, and I assure you that in a few weeks, you will become one of the juggernauts of the Suicide Squad. This might a bit painful, though."
  
  "A bit?" Leo asked horrified. This sounded like torture.
  
  "Okay, it will be agony in fire and flames." Perseus Jackson admitted.
  
  "And the second possibility?"
  
  "We ask your father how to train you."
  
  "Err...I didn't expect...that."
  
  "You didn't think you would hear these words from me? I don't blame you." The mad Demigod chuckled. "Leo Valdez, if you are to take a single lesson from me, know this: no matter how much you learn during your long and dangerous life, there are things that you will never know. There will be times when it will be necessary to bluff in order to ensure your survival. And there will be times when humility and acknowledging your ignorance will be the best policy."
  
  Leo didn't know what to say.
  
  There was...okay, be polite.
  
  "Thanks?"
  
  "You're welcome." The leader of the Suicide Squad said in a happy tone that sounded like very bad news. "Now be prepared, we have-"
  
  KABOOM!
  
  "The new fireworks our explosive-experts and superb fighting penguin insisted to give to the Amazons for testing on Christmas night...we will have to work on their timing, though."
  
  25 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort, the Throne Room
  
  For the life of her, Lou Ellen hadn't discovered how Perseus achieved the feat of being so energetic that early in the morning.
  
  Of all the mysteries puzzling her, it was one of the most vexing.
  
  Drakonic blood or not, it shouldn't be possible to appear so well-rested, especially when she knew for sure he barely slept for five hours after the various Christmas celebrations.
  
  Alas, the questions were going to have to wait.
  
  They had been allowed to enter the throne room her half-sister and future magical teacher, and a light conversation as they stepped forwards would have been very disrespectful, to say the least.
  
  There weren't any magical guards escorting them or waiting on each side.
  
  But then, mortal guards were both superfluous and useless here.
  
  The ranks of lifeless statues were enchanted, and the moment Circe wished it, they would act and try to slay any intruder.
  
  Several pigs were waiting in cages too. Yes, not guinea pigs, those were true pigs.
  
  If the daughter of Hecate was to guess, it was her half-sister's pointed message to Perseus, a silent warning that more 'creative interpretations' of his terms of surrender would not be tolerated one more time.
  
  It remained to be seen if that hope was going to survive the next seconds...the blonde sorceress found it very unlikely.
  
  The throne room was grandiose, beyond the pigs. It looked like Circe had gathered extraordinary things from all over the world. There were jade gemstones from China, with the decoration to support them. The structure used pure white Greek marble, and flamboyant gold burned over their head.
  
  And everywhere, there were purple banners. The sigil of Circe was simple, yet elegant: three golden suns on a darker shade of purple.
  
  It was time to show their respect.
  
  Lou Ellen chose to kneel.
  
  Perseus instead chose a complicated reverence that he had evidently trained for in order to avoid slamming nose-first into the soft and comfortable purple carpet.
  
  "Oh wise and powerful Goddess, I thank you in advance for the help you're going to provide the Suicide Squad," Perseus didn't wait at all before beginning another chapter of insanity.
  
  Thank the Magic, Circe appeared to be in good mood this morning.
  
  Maybe it was because Perseus had paid a premium price for the dinner and the fireworks of last night?
  
  "I have not decided if I will help you further than I already did," the Immortal Sorceress mused. "After all, Olympus is about to discard you the moment its Lord judges it is convenient for him. Gambling on you could be a dreadful mistake."
  
  "I find this argument...illogical." Perseus made another reverence, which managed to bow in an even more ridiculous manner than his first 'mark of respect'. "When we will free the God of the Forges-"
  
  "If you manage to free him," Circe corrected with a grin, changing her position of seating so that there was no doubt she wore nothing today aside from her perfect purple cocktail dress and her high heels.
  
  "When," Perseus insisted mischievously. Lou Ellen glared at him, and this convinced him to stop going for a third reverence.
  
  Yet Demigod and Goddess remained staring at each other for long seconds after that.
  
  "Your argument?" her half-sister asked.
  
  "When we will free the Lord of Fire and Smiths, the sorcerous spells protecting the fortress-island of the Triumvirate will be revealed to Olympus as a whole. In turn, the Olympians and their agents will analyse the defences, magical and conventional, physical and enchanted. And they won't be very happy to discover who helped Mark Anthony and Cleopatra hiding themselves for so long."
  
  "Yes, they won't."
  
  The blonde-haired sorceress had to give it to her half-sister, Perseus' subtly accusing her of protecting the Triumvirate's base didn't create any visible reaction.
  
  "And?"
  
  "And while the Master of Olympus won't declare war now that he's very busy dealing with a lot of other problems, there are retribution measures which can be exerted against your island. You know which ones I refer to. Should I say them out loud?"
  
  "No, Perseus Jackson, that won't be necessary." The black-haired beauty spoke in a low voice that retained extraordinary musical power. "However, it is also logical to conclude helping you likely won't stop retribution from coming either. The Goddess of Love is already getting cold feet after your extravagant tactics result in disasters and savage upheavals. The God of Wine is too busy partying to be of any importance. And your most solid allies are busy adapting to the boons you gave them. You have many enemies in the halls of Olympus, son of the Earthshaker. Why should I risk everything I possess to help you?"
  
  "'Everything' is such a tragic exaggeration." Her boyfriend smiled. "I think you find my demands most reasonable."
  
  "I will judge that myself," Circe's black eyes began to swirl with incredible power. "Name them."
  
  "First, I want to deliver these letters to several persons of interest." Three golden and purple envelopes appeared in the leader of the Suicide Squad's right hand. "I would arrange the delivery myself, but alas I have no idea how to contact them."
  
  The letters flew into Circe's hand, and there was a barely perceptible frown.
  
  "Those are unpleasant men, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "The good ones are perfectly content to obey the Olympians' whims, Goddess."
  
  By the way her half-sister said nothing more, Perseus had clearly scored a point.
  
  "My second reasonable request would be for you to teach a high-level sorcery spell to Lou Ellen, before our departure of this island."
  
  "This can be arranged," the divine black eyes met hers, "but my new Apprentice will be the only soul to be granted the intricate knowledge of it. Should it change, the spell-thief stupid enough to steal from the daughters of Magic will taste my wrath."
  
  "Third," the green eye watched Circe with caution now, "I want the Red October and its surviving crew."
  
  Sometimes, the daughter of Hecate wondered how many super-weapons they were going to acquire before finally going to challenge Tethys and free Hephaestus.
  
  But the next seconds after, she remembered the opposition they were going to face. It was entirely possible all these war machines and devastating amounts of magical power may not be enough.
  
  "And what do you offer in exchange, son of the Seas?" Surprisingly, Circe didn't say outright no. "I have indeed some officers of this submarine left. But I rather like them as cute and white guinea pigs."
  
  "Well, should the battle end in the outcome I want, I could arrange the sale of a brand-new Destroyer straight from the God of Forges to your hands."
  
  "Enticing," the Immortal Sorceress replied emotionlessly. "But not enough. I love my Spa, and I want it to still be standing by the Spring Solstice."
  
  There was something Lou Ellen didn't recognise in that voice, and she turned towards Perseus.
  
  And the black-haired Demigod sighed.
  
  "Must we play that game, Lady Goddess? We both know the Summer Solstice is a fabulous misdirection. Mark Anthony aims to usurp the God of War, and ushers his apotheosis as Neo Romulus. He wants to be the Founder of Empires, the glorious Ruler of New Rome. Why would he lose his time with an Equinox or a Solstice? It was always his plan to begin the apotheosis ritual on a certain day, no matter what the initial Expeditionary Force or the Suicide Squad did. If he wants to become Neo Romulus, then he will act during next year's Lupercalia."
  
  This time, Perseus had said enough to gain Circe's undivided attention; there was no doubt about it anymore.
  
  "Fascinating," the purple-dressed Goddess commented in a murmur.
  
  By all the hells, it was a correct guess? But then...the Lupercalia days were the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of February. At least it was the days the Romans celebrated it at New Constantinople. And since today was Christmas, they didn't have two months left!
  
  "I won't deactivate the enchantments I cast for the Triumvirate," her half-sister seemed to read her mind, though what could be read on her face hadn't to be too difficult to decipher.
  
  "I wasn't expecting you too," Perseus replied, and for once, it rang like truth in her ears.
  
  There was something flying in the air as he finished speaking.
  
  Circe caught it easily, and it was revealed to be an old-fashioned medallion.
  
  "And I want to modify this medallion."
  
  This time, the smile of the millennia-old child of Hecate was assuredly smug.
  
  "You indeed thought your divine accomplice was going to try to renege on her deal at the last minute."
  
  "I am many things," the Demigod who had been the doom of Drakons and Elder Giants said seriously, "but stay assured that I am not someone who relies on something as unreliable on dumb luck to win."
  
  Circe nodded.
  
  "Yes, you are no fool, no matter how much you love to behave like one. Very well, Perseus Jackson, your requests are indeed reasonable." The divine black eyes tried to pierce her boyfriend's by sheer intensity alone, and the son of Poseidon stoically held his own without flinching. "But each request will have to be repaid. You will owe me, and don't think my new Apprentice having feelings for you will save you if you fail to give me my due."
  
  26 December 2006, Ticonderoga-class Cruiser Jupiter Invictus, approaching C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  Erica Keller was in a foul mood today.
  
  Actually, she had been in a foul mood for the last forty-eight hours.
  
  To be truthful with herself, she was enraged and boiling with fury.
  
  This was what generally happened when you realised you were a mere afterthought for 'your' Gods.
  
  They hadn't received a single message for months. They had been abandoned in the middle of a Zone Mortalis, left to sink or swim with dwindling resources.
  
  They hadn't a chance in Hell to triumph and free the two Gods they had been sent to save. They couldn't save themselves.
  
  And then in a flash Hermes arrived, informed them that a group of Questers had been sent into the Sea of Monsters while they fought for their very lives, and recovered the Golden Fleece.
  
  All of these metaphorical bombs had been dropped upon their heads before the God-Messenger of Olympus gave them marching orders.
  
  The aforementioned were revolting and insulting.
  
  "There's something incredibly wrong with this entire expedition and the fools who asked for it," the female Tribune cursed under her breath.
  
  "Sorry?" Centurion Michael Kahale rushed by her side, but fortunately not in time to hear her semi-treasonous words.
  
  The senior survivor of the Roman officers shook her head.
  
  "I was saying that I really hope the locals aren't going to fire on us and demolish us like they did destroy the Dominus Caelum." Erica grimaced. "We can't afford to lose more ships, not when our squadrons were savaged by storms and monsters."
  
  The 1st and the 2nd Squadron had charged into the Sea of Monsters with thirteen ships. The Emporiae had been lost with all hands to Charybdis' maw, but the twelve others had gone through.
  
  Of these twelve, only four were left under Legionnaire's command, and all were with her today.
  
  That was a loss ratio of sixty-six percent...and they had not seen a single major objective. Honestly, they had spent their time fleeing the major dangers and trying to survive as best as they could.
  
  "How is the Corinthus today?" She asked.
  
  "The machinery holds, for now." The son of Venus replied unhappily. "If we didn't need it so badly, I would have already suggested abandoning it."
  
  "But we need it."
  
  It was the only Neosho-class oiler at their disposal. For the same reason, the Etna was indispensable; without an ammunition ship to replenish the stocks, her Legionnaires wouldn't have survived that long.
  
  "I think the locals have been alerted of our presence." The female Tribune of the Third Legion preferred to change the subject before saying something which could be considered treasonous.
  
  "There's certainly a lot of agitation on the beach and near the aquatic resort." Michael conceded. "But I don't see the ship the Greeks used to reach the island. Aside from this monstrosity of a super-yacht which no doubt belongs to a VIP, there's nothing in sight looking like a proper warship."
  
  That was certainly a good point...there was a lot of agitation everywhere, including on this gargantuan white ship...seriously, it was almost as big as a proper Cruiser like her Jupiter Invictus!
  
  Listening only to her intuition, Erica seized her top-class binoculars and placed them before her eyes.
  
  The details were both illuminating and terrifying in equal measure.
  
  Everywhere on the giant yacht, it was crawling with Telekhines, and the shark monsters were transporting a disturbing amount of things which could only be ammunition.
  
  By itself, it shouldn't have been an unreal sight; they were in the Sea of Monsters, after all.
  
  What made it completely insane was that the bipedal sharks were clearly taking orders from Demigods. And Erica recognised a few of them: Luke Castellan and Ethan Nakamura weren't as famous as the crazy psychopath they served under, but they were known to all the Legio officers having enough intelligence to seal their shoes without asking for instructions.
  
  Then the binoculars found the name of the ship, and everything became clearer.
  
  INEVITABLE DOOM
  
  There was only one Demigod who would be insane enough to choose such a name for his flagship.
  
  "We're looking at the flagship of the Suicide Squad."
  
  "What?" Michael uttered, aghast. "But that's a yacht!"
  
  "A very big yacht," the female Tribune corrected. "And given the amount of ammunition and certain missiles I see the Telekhines loading on the deck, I am almost certain this super-yacht is anything but defenceless."
  
  Moreover, it looked pristine and undamaged.
  
  The paradise environment made it look like it was normal, but it wasn't.
  
  The four ships of New Constantinople which had survived so far were not pretty at all. Their grey paint - all the paint, truly - was flaking and cracking. Many batteries and important parts of the upper structures had been destroyed or lost in the terrible storms.
  
  The Jupiter Invictus and the Rhenus could still fight, yes, but they needed important repairs, and only a proper dockyard could give it to them.
  
  "That still feels...wrong." Her second-in-command protested. "Okay, I can understand using a Q-Ship for your sea operations, the enemies likely underestimated them for the first battles they had to fight. But working with the Telekhines? That's...I understand why Lord Mercury wanted to give the orders-"
  
  "Be quiet," Erica ordered. "We're in the middle of enemy territory and we don't know who is listening."
  
  Erica didn't add that many of the people she didn't trust were aboard the Jupiter Invictus and the four other ships of her improvised squadron. You didn't trust everyone in your Cohort at the best of times, but their 'reinforcements' of the Twelfth Legio made a bad situation worse.
  
  The First Cohort of the Fulminata had fallen far from grace, and it was a pit of vipers.
  
  Erica knew she had deep reservations about their new orders, and so did many of the boys and girls she trusted.
  
  The same couldn't be said about the scum who sometimes obeyed Michael's orders.
  
  "I...you're right. Okay, the big yacht is a surprise, but I suppose it is the last one of importance. With such a small group of Greek and Roman Questers, I suppose they couldn't-"
  
  As if someone had just been waiting for that comment to be uttered, there was an enormous geyser of water on the starboard side, and then the sea seemed to turn alive.
  
  "Monster!" A Legionnaire shouted. "Prepare to-"
  
  But it was not a monster which emerged to challenge the ships of New Constantinople.
  
  It was a shape of black metal, a leviathan of the deep imagined and built by mortal hands.
  
  It was a Typhoon-class submarine.
  
  "BWHAHAHAHA! THE WORLD BEST PREPARE FOR THE STORM!"
  
  And on the prow of this Cruiser-sized submarine, there was a Demigod who was eminently recognisable.
  
  He had changed. He looked older, and Erica was pretty sure one of his eyes hadn't been red when he routinely warned them the Romans were not ready for a journey into a Zone Mortalis...something that alas had proven quite true.
  
  Perseus Jackson saluted them by waving forcefully a large orange-coloured tricorn.
  
  "Welcome to C.C's Spa and Resort, Legionnaires. We are going to have so much fun together!"
  
  He knew. Erica couldn't say how it was possible, but immediately she knew for certain the son of Poseidon knew of their orders.
  
  "Let's see the positive side of things," the female Tribune managed to articulate after she recovered from the shock. "We aren't going to die bored..."
  
  26 December, C.C's Secret Submarine Base, Typhon-class Submarine Red October
  
  Some of his old mentors had told him long ago that luck was a fickle mistress, and could abandon you at the gates of the Kremlin much like it could return when you believed everything lost.
  
  Still, even they might have been unwilling to believe the turn of events of the last twenty-four hours.
  
  In that amount of time, Marko Ramius had been returned to his old human body, after being an object of ridicule as a guinea pig for decades, and suddenly propelled back into the command seat of his submarine.
  
  And the responsible party for his sudden good turn of fortune? It was a boy who had the age to be his grandson.
  
  "And this," the dark-haired boy who happened to be his saviour, "is the Megalodon X-20 Torpedo."
  
  The period of silence was just for show, and they both knew it.
  
  "And what are we going to hunt with this torpedo?" The weapon was about twenty percent heavier than the old ones he had been given for the Red October's maiden journey.
  
  "I'm so glad you asked, Captain! The Telekhines copied the schematics from an old anti-Kraken weapon built by the forges of Atlantis. But I think it will be useful against all types of sea monsters."
  
  Decades ago, Marko would have believed the boy was totally mad. The words would have resonated like the delirium of someone only good to be sent to an asylum.
  
  After being shown in no ambiguous term that Gods and monsters were indeed very real, there was no way to deny that alas this world was far stranger than what they told you at the Naval Academy.
  
  And no, the monsters didn't stop trying to eat you because you didn't believe in them.
  
  "This will be indeed very useful." He approved. The Red October had used plenty of torpedoes before being captured by the Immortal Sorceress, and alas some of them had just been enough to annoy the undersea denizens of the Sea of Monsters, not to injure them severely. "And the ballistic missiles?"
  
  The young boy took an expression that tried to be innocence personified...it failed utterly, obviously.
  
  "Our hostess alas has refused to hand me the nukes you had once ago aboard your submarine. The Telekhines are going to try to adapt the light missiles we have on the Inevitable Doom so you can launch them on ground-based targets, but in the time we have, we simply don't have any ballistic missiles that can really provide good substitutes."
  
  "She fears we would turn the remaining nukes against her the moment the decisive battle is over?" It wasn't an idiotic concern, given how many of his twenty-plus remaining crew blamed her for their envies of carrot and lettuce.
  
  "No," the young boy loved to grin, Marko had already acknowledged that. "She fears what I would do if placed in control of this small arsenal of nukes. And she doesn't want to listen to the complaints of Olympus and other important powerhouses."
  
  "She fears you more than my crew?"
  
  "To be blunt, Captain, yes. You have to understand her, though! Within twenty seconds, our beautiful hostess had transformed you into guinea pigs. Whereas my associates and I raised a ruckus that is going to shatter her worldview for at least twenty years."
  
  Evidently, seen like that...
  
  "Plus I'm pretty sure C.C. has kept some enchantments on all your crew, waiting to be triggered in case you tried to take revenge against her."
  
  That was far more worrying and disturbing.
  
  "You can cancel them, I hope?"
  
  "I can and I already did try, but she already reapplies them when I have my back turned." This time, Perseus Jackson winced. "It will have to wait until we are no longer within reach of her magic."
  
  "After the decisive battle, then." Marko caressed his white beard. "How likely do you think it is she is going to stab all of us in the back at the worst possible moment?"
  
  "Not very," the heterochromatic-eyed boy shrugged. "I have tried my best to give her several incentives to not betray us. Our hostess will win more by giving us a fighting chance in the battle to come than by watching us die powerlessly as frightened and very mortal pigs."
  
  "The risks are limited, then?"
  
  "Oh no, Captain," the boy laughed. "I'm afraid it just means that the betrayals will come from every other direction."
  
  Ah yes, that would have been too easy for this incredibly dangerous sea...
  
  26 December 2006, Guadalcanal, Triumvirate's Fortress
  
  The air had been humid in the morning, and now at this late hour, it could be described as suffocating without any risk of exaggeration.
  
  The pale blue had long disappeared, and Boreas was unleashed, northern winds generating high and dark waves.
  
  Zeus had not abandoned the effort to collapse the magical spells protecting the Triumvirate forces from his view, and dark clouds coalesced everywhere his eyes watched.
  
  There was a storm coming.
  
  And, Mark Antony knew, this was an apt summary of the entire situation.
  
  "Still no word from Circe?"
  
  "None."
  
  This was not good.
  
  "Then we must prepare for the worst: Perseus Jackson has likely convinced the Immortal Sorceress to turn against us."
  
  His wife gave him an amused glance for a couple of seconds.
  
  "Fine," the Roman leader groaned. "I know she was never really on our side. It was just that her goals and ours had a lot in common, and she didn't like Olympus much to begin with."
  
  Clearly, something had changed. But what?
  
  "If the rumours I've been paying good sesterces to have are true, C.C might think siding with Perseus Jackson is not synonymous with siding with Olympus. And let's be honest, the sorceress mustn't have given the son of the Earthshaker everything at her disposal. Otherwise, I'm sure we would already be on the receiving end of a tide of zombies or something outrageously devastating. Yes, we swore Oaths on the Styx, but an Immortal Sorceress didn't survive three millennia in one of the most dangerous seas to ever exist by not learning how to dance around promises and words."
  
  This...this was a good point. So Circe had agreed to provide some help to the Suicide Squad and its leader in particular. They didn't know the importance of said help, however, which was frustrating in the extreme.
  
  "The most troubling question is what persuaded her to help the Suicide Squad when she had vocally assured us - without an oath, I might add - that she would refrain from doing exactly that."
  
  "Sorceresses love two things: magical power and the winners." It was a really good thing no immortal magical practitioner was anywhere near their headquarters at the moment. "Therefore, it is my opinion C.C. thinks the chances of Perseus Jackson winning outweigh any actions we might consider to show our displeasure."
  
  "I was afraid you were going to say that." Mark Antony admitted. "And we don't know how the Demigods were able to change her views."
  
  "I told you about the destruction of Ogygia."
  
  "I haven't forgotten," he assured his wife. "But I also remember you telling that this Calypso is, according to the rumours, a lesser Titaness of no importance. And honestly, Jackson is certainly insane, but even this mad boy would not rely on something as ridiculous as hoping motherhood bonds would refrain Tethys from smiting him down."
  
  By now, there must have been ten thousand letters pledging the eternal friendship of the son of Poseidon to every faction of importance in the Sea of Monsters. It was worth a good laugh to be sure, but nothing significant had come out of it.
  
  "I'm afraid I can't help you." The future Neo Isis told him with a thoughtful expression. "I trust enough my sources to confirm that yes, Perseus Jackson managed to engineer the evasion of the Titaness out of Ogygia, and yes, the Goddess Hera in mortal form was also involved. It seems that to avoid the Lord of Thunder's wrath, he went through hell...again."
  
  Sometimes, Mark Antony wondered if Perseus Jackson intended to reach the age of twenty. There could be a long-dead hero who had accumulated more enemies than him in thirteen or fourteen years of existence, but for now, the Second Imperator of the Triumvirate had not the faintest idea who this hero might be.
  
  "Does he know about the Lupercalia, then?"
  
  That was the kind of worry he had wanted to avoid, so late into the 'game'.
  
  Unfortunately, refusing to acknowledge the problem would not make it disappear.
  
  "I think this 'Lord of the Suicide Squad' is alas far too clever for his own good. He's largely capable of discovering the truth by himself, and if he didn't before, C.C. might have said the wrong word at the wrong time. We better assume he knows."
  
  A hiss was heard, and the claimant to the Throne of Love began to pet the head of the female Black Mamba that suddenly wondered why the sun bath had stopped warming up her scales.
  
  "All the war games we played indicates Perseus Jackson and his band of walking disasters do not have the assets or the power to win a battle against the forces the Titaness has mustered inside and near Forge MP-42...never mind fighting a second battle against the army and fleet we have here before the Lupercalia is celebrated."
  
  "Agreed." Circe may have given them access to incredibly dangerous artefacts and perhaps a few submarines. Perseus Jackson may have found ways to bolster the inner abilities of his allies and some hastily-recruited mercenaries, immortal and mortal.
  
  But against the might of Tethys, several Legions worth of automatons, more sea monsters than could be counted, and other very dangerous 'surprises', there was no question that mortals couldn't prevail.
  
  The Suicide Squad, as it was the name it had gained fame and fortune under, was powerful. But they also were very mortal. They bled. They tired.
  
  And when Tethys unleashed her maelstrom, they would have to challenge an enemy which was so much powerful than them that it could bring even a veteran Legionnaire to despair.
  
  "Many Olympians are convinced it will be his end."
  
  "I apologise if I am not exactly reassured about that," Mark Antony went on to wield irony like a scalpel this evening. "Most Olympians have been wrong about everything during these last twelve months."
  
  The Black Mamba hissed as if to approve his words...or it might be because the mice for her dinner were in sight.
  
  "We have prepared as much as we can," his wife spoke with iron conviction, and it pleased him a lot. "I am going to prepare the Spear of the Gods and the fleet to react as fast as we can, just in case. Worst case but realistic scenario for us, Perseus Jackson triumphs, but his forces are crippled and need months of recovery. In that case, we will have an opportunity to finish the job the defences and the monsters of the Forge will have begun for us."
  
  "Yes, and it will be a relief when it happens. This Demigod is no longer an annoyance; he is a threat. The earlier someone makes his head explode and send him to the Fields of Punishment, the better."
  
  27 December 2006, Skull Island, Nova Tortuga
  
  It wasn't often Edward Teach wondered if his drinks plunged him into a world of lies and mirages.
  
  The son of Ares blinked, before turning his eyes towards the bottle of rum in his hand.
  
  Strange, it was one of his good bottles and-
  
  "IT'S HIM! IT'S JACKSON! KILL HIM!"
  
  One of his pirates ran in front of him and aimed with a good old pistol.
  
  "Any last word, son of the Seas?"
  
  "Place this pistol against your head and kill yourself."
  
  BLAM!
  
  The power shook everything, and the Pirate Admiral barely glanced at the corpse of the sailor who just ended reddening the sands of the beach, with eyes still opened in disbelief.
  
  It was the real Demigod, all right.
  
  Half-bloods able to harness the power of Charmspeak were a rarity outside the lineage of Aphrodite-Venus and the other deities of love and sorcery.
  
  It was him. No Demigod would have the audacity to stroll in the middle of his war camp like he owned the place.
  
  "You have guts, Perseus Jackson," the infamous pirate swallowed a good gulp of rum before speaking his piece. "I will give you that. But don't think I am not aware how tiring Charmspeak can be, or what its limits are."
  
  He gave a silent command to Lafitte, and most of his officers rushed to open certain chests. Much like with sirens, mermaids, and other enthrallers, a Charmspeak user was best countered by wax in your ears. It was traditional...and it worked.
  
  "You are here and you are alone. What stops me from giving the order and beginning this battle? The Triumvirate offers a mighty prize for your head, attached to the rest of your body or not!"
  
  "The deep feelings of friendship you feel for me, no doubt," in all his life, Blackbeard had possessed a gift, if he said so himself, to know what kind of man he spoke with.
  
  Despite the smile, despite the respectful tone, there was absolutely no doubt.
  
  He was speaking with a madman.
  
  No wonder the Triumvirate and so many other factions feared this bastard.
  
  "HA!"
  
  A thousand men encircled the son of Poseidon, but didn't load their muskets. The first death had told them how bad an idea it would be.
  
  Edward Teach went on to sip his rum.
  
  "I want freedom, and you know it." Blackbeard looked cautiously at the red eye full of craziness. It hadn't been here before, according to the records, but it suited the Demigod. Whoever told you eyes were open windows on your soul was definitely right. "And you can't give it to me."
  
  "That's where you are wrong, I'm afraid."
  
  The black-haired son of the Earthshaker drew an object which looked like a small music box from his pocket. And then from his other hand, an onyx gemstone was revealed. The latter shone with magic.
  
  The music box was opened, and the onyx was thrown inside. The lid was closed again, and some miniature cogs of bronze turned.
  
  He almost expected a song to play out.
  
  Instead a tight beam of darkness struck him without warning.
  
  Blackbeard knew he had reacted too late to evade but-
  
  There was no pain.
  
  There was no pain, and all his men were watching him in disbelief.
  
  No, no they weren't watching him.
  
  They were watching the broken slave collar now lying on the yellow sands. The slave collar which, moments ago, had been around his throat.
  
  A collar that many sources had told him it was impossible to remove without blowing up your head in the attempt.
  
  "How?" Blackbeard didn't try to hide his shock...in fact it didn't even cross his mind.
  
  "These old slave collars are really reliable, but they have a significant weakness." There was no gloating, just a cold smile which was incredibly frightening. "They open when they think the slave is dead. I'm pretty sure this flaw came to be because some avaricious slaver wanted to reuse them over and over, in a ridiculous mind to make even more benefits along the way. Once you know that, you've won half of the battle. All that remains is to discover how to convince the collar that you're dead without killing yourself in the process."
  
  Perseus Jackson glanced at the little music box he held in his right hand.
  
  "It wasn't simple, but I managed to obtain the permission to take a 'Discordance Stone' from the realm of my Lord Uncle. I can only keep it for one moon maximum, alas."
  
  Hades. The boy had gone through Hades' realm, and survived...to earn himself a limited right to use this gemstone?
  
  It was a hell of a determination, no pun intended.
  
  And this was enough for all the pirates who had not already done so to lower their weapons.
  
  Everything had changed.
  
  The stakes of the game were entirely different now.
  
  No longer were the pirates he had gathered under his black flag forced to risk their lives and their souls by trying to kill the son of Poseidon.
  
  There was a far easier solution to be freed from the Triumvirate's slavery.
  
  "What do you want, Captain Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "I want to become the King of Pirates, Admiral Blackbeard." The grin was mad and was a promise to burn the entire world in the process. "And you are going to help me."
  
  28 December 2006, aboard the Inevitable Doom, anchored on the doorstep of C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  "I think it's a horrible idea."
  
  "You complained we didn't have ships yesterday. Perseus solved the problem."
  
  At this moment, Luke really wanted to sigh in despair. Of all people, he hadn't expected Annabeth to make this kind of retort.
  
  By the Pit of Tartarus, the son of Hermes had not foreseen his female friend defending Perseus Jackson, ever. And the impressed glance she gave to the son of Poseidon was not to liking either. The blunt conversation he had with Annabeth two days ago had consequences he hadn't imagined.
  
  "Okay, we have the ships." Luke gritted his teeth and gave their leader this small victory. "But Blackbeard is going to betray us the moment he thinks he can get away with it."
  
  "Yes?" Perseus smiled. "It is half of the reason I chose this strategy to be honest."
  
  It made him scowl. The urge to strangle the younger Demigod was getting more and more powerful these days.
  
  "You already told us most of the Triumvirate officers aboard the 'Survivor Squadron' were ready to betray us the moment Olympus gave the order." How secret the orders could be when the target was aware of them was one of those questions that were better not asked in public.
  
  "Indeed, indeed," Perseus feigned to read a list of supplies before abandoning the pretense. "They all have orders to betray us, at least. Most of the Third Legio is very feeling ill-at-ease. They have embraced the power of eternal friendship!"
  
  Annabeth gave him a disappointed look.
  
  "And they're intelligent enough to know that save that the one soul who will steal the Golden Fleece successfully, most of them will likely be abandoned in the middle of the Sea of Monsters for their trouble. It's easier to explain how proud Legionnaires fought bravely to the last and heroically gave their lives for Olympus when none of the 'heroes' are here to contest the official version of the events."
  
  Luke grimaced.
  
  "Why do we work for Olympus, again?"
  
  "Because the alternatives are all worse," Perseus answered without missing a beat. "And alas, the Olympians remain far too strong to be toppled given how weak we are."
  
  Coming from their madman of a leader, it had the merit of honesty for once.
  
  "Anyway," Perseus rose from his seat, "with the success of this little gambit, we have at last recruited enough forces that I feel confident attacking Forge MP-42 and not being wiped out in the first minutes. Annabeth?"
  
  "Drew is on her way, in control of Moby Dick," the blonde daughter of Athena recited dutifully. "The Telekhines have finished modifying the Red October, and Captain Marko Ramius is satisfied with the job. The Inevitable Doom has received every type of new ammunition you wanted, and it wasn't damaged so we're all good there. Tribune Erica Keller reports the problems with the Corinthus will be solved before sunset, courtesy of all the spare parts the Telekhines provided, meaning the four ships of her squadron, the Jupiter Invictus, the Rhenus, the Etna, and the Corinthus are ready for battle."
  
  It didn't mean much in the case of the Etna and the Corinthus, though the two ships had received a significant number of old-fashioned anti-air guns on their decks alongside several dozen machine guns.
  
  "Oh, and we have the Ave Caesar that Blackbeard graciously returned to us, in addition to the nine ships the pirate promised you." Annabeth finished with an unimpressed expression.
  
  "You have to admit it, the son of War has style," Perseus didn't snicker, but he wasn't far from that threshold. "Returning this little arrogant bastard of Octavian McArthur to command when the Roman collaborators made his life a living hell for the last months is pure genius."
  
  Luke sighed again.
  
  "You intend for him to attempt a betrayal too?"
  
  "Oh, I have no need to do something so wasteful, my heroic lieutenant. Octavian McArthur wouldn't recognise loyalty even if Annabeth's mother appeared in front of him to teach him the definition."
  
  "That's...that's fairly accurate, yes."
  
  Twice in the same conversation Perseus and Annabeth agreed with each other. This was NOT a good omen.
  
  "This is a game of betrayals, isn't it?"
  
  "I don't know if you have noticed, my dear lieutenant, but none of the great captains happened to be summoned to this war council." The leader of the Suicide Squad paused. "I could organise a fake one, sell them a fake plan..."
  
  "The confusion would be total once the first shot will be fired." Hera intervened, a frown on her face.
  
  Perseus Jackson was...unimpressed by the argument.
  
  "This battle is already to be an ungodly chaotic mess." The evil grin made a triumphal return. "That's why I called it Operation Titanomachy, after all."
  
  Hera crossed her arms, and you knew just looking at her she was displeased.
  
  "We are going to sail and free your son, your Fallen Divinity. Isn't it what you desire?" No time was allowed to voice a reply. "Once the God of the Forges is freed, his machines will be turned against the enemy, the power of Water will rapidly decrease, and Leo will have a whole bunch of automatons to play with. What's not to like?"
  
  "You turned me into a powerless Goddess of Seasons, you bastard!"
  
  "Ah, that."
  
  Luke couldn't help but laugh. If it hadn't been anyone else...but it was Hera.
  
  She had changed a bit, her brown hair were far more 'normal' than her first ugly appearance, though she had a neat single white demarcation separating her brown hair in two. The former Goddess of Marriages was also more muscled and athletic, and she had curves. However, all these changes meant she was pretty much an average Demigoddess if you compared to the standards in vigour at New Byzantium. Sending her to Bronze-level Quests would not raise eyebrows, but anything more than that, well...
  
  "I gave you the Mantles, your Fallen Divinity," as many people stared in incomprehension, the son of Poseidon clarified his previous statement. "I gave you divine titles just in time to make it a nice Christmas present. Is it my fault your brother and his wives declined to give you the power to back them?"
  
  "Yes!"
  
  The answer was totally predictable...and Luke wasn't the only one to snicker.
  
  "That was your plan, wasn't it? To turn me into a useless Goddess of Seasons?"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, I have far greater ambitions for you." On that point, yes, the son of Hermes trusted the red-eyed monster enough to admit he had a point. "And technically, I want to insist you're not the Goddess of Seasons. You're the Goddess of Winter, Spring, and Summer. You're a claimant to the Throne of Seasons. That's a very big difference."
  
  "This is normal?" Of course Annabeth wanted to get more knowledge, and it was kind of funny she was taking notes.
  
  "Not really, no," Perseus said with a serious expression. "In most cases, the Domain comes first. Think of it as the divine headquarters, the sphere of influence, the headquarters, the powerbase, and the court all gathered in one package. But the Goddess of Frost released next to nothing aside from the title of Goddess of Winter. She wasn't going to give away Snow and Ice Skating for a 'Queen' she'd always loathed. The repeated humiliations she forced her to endure are a bitch when payback time comes, after all."
  
  Clearly, Hera preferred to not answer the last remarks.
  
  "Spring and Summer yielded more power, but the latter title had already been severed from its Domain long ago. As for the former, I lacked the time to ask my Lord Uncle's first wife what she did with it. I was a bit in a hurry a few days ago, you know."
  
  Yes, that what happened when you got too close to the Avatar of a Primordial. Luke almost hadn't believed it, but the insane Demigod had indeed managed to escape the clutches of Nyx, the very Night itself.
  
  "This is one of the things I'm interested in knowing the answers too."
  
  The thief extraordinaire shivered, for suddenly it felt as the shadows of the room were coming alive. Uncontrollable fear took hold into his body.
  
  And she was here, on a seat mere feet away from Perseus Jackson.
  
  She was incredibly dangerous. Her very presence screamed 'THREAT!' in highly-fluorescent colours.
  
  Many times since his return, Luke had wondered what kind of monster the Suicide Squad was guilty of unleashing upon this poor world, and none of the answers had really satisfied him for long.
  
  "We are all ready, then?"
  
  "Yes," out of character for him, the son of Poseidon didn't give him one of his long monologues. "For the best and for the worse, we are ready to sail for the greatest battle of this Great Quest."
  
  A golden cup was raised.
  
  "Enjoy these last hours, Suicide Squad, for tomorrow, we return to war."
  
  29 December 2006, C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  As satisfying as some plans were when you imagined them in your head, they simply didn't compare to watching the wheels of each plot coming into motion before you.
  
  In the case of Operation Titanomachy, it was even better.
  
  Oh yes, it had taken him a lot of sweat, blood and pain to survive so far.
  
  But who cared?
  
  When you saw the Typhoon-class Red October slumbering like an enormous whale right next to Moby Dick, also known as the 'mega Mecha-whale of Doom' - Leo Valdez's words, not his - everything else felt unimportant.
  
  The Olympians had sent him with no support, hoping that being the equivalent of blind, deaf and having his hands tied behind his back would result in his permanent demise. The Triumvirate had thought he would be the Roman Expedition Mark Two, except smaller. The Eldest Giant had thought he was a simpleton.
  
  The Sire of Drakons...this enemy had so far not underestimated. And by the time the Battle for Forge MP-42 was over, Perseus was sure he would get some answers. He just wasn't sure how bad they were going to be.
  
  But the point was this: the foes had been legion, and his own forces terribly limited.
  
  And yet, here he stood, alive, and more powerful than ever.
  
  "I hope you had a lot of fun leading the dance," the former Tyrant mused, "because it is over. My campaign, my rules."
  
  It went without saying that not every point had been accounted for. Fortunately, this was why he was a Tyrant and a son of Poseidon, not a child of Athena.
  
  It was why he had taken the very real risk of dying by assaulting Circe's island.
  
  The risk had paid off.
  
  By the end of this battle, even if most of the battle-plan went wrong, the Suicide Squad would be able to flee to Atlantis and see the diplomatic formalities expedited in twenty minutes.
  
  The battle-plan was not going to unravel that badly, of course.
  
  That was why the potential traitors in his order of battle were for.
  
  "No monologue today?"
  
  The black-haired God authorised himself a small smile.
  
  "Everyone is too busy dealing with the last details before your half-sister casts her Tide Spell, Lou. It isn't really fun to speak for twenty minutes in front of a public limited to a few guinea pigs."
  
  In case you wondered, no, not every prisoner of Circe had his curse cancelled after Christmas.
  
  Most of the male Legionnaires of the Dominus Caelum and the other 'master strategists' who had insisted to attack C.C's Spa and Resort were still trapped into guinea pigs' bodies, and nothing Tribune Erica Keller had promised was sufficient to change the mind of an Immortal Sorceress.
  
  Yes, the grudges of the daughters of Hecate lasted a very, very long time.
  
  "Could I ask you a question, Perseus?"
  
  "You can ask, my dear sorceress lieutenant. I reserve myself the right to not answer if the answer will open too many problems at once..."
  
  "Why," the blonde Demigoddess asked, "did you not ask for the help of another Pantheon?"
  
  Ah. It was that question.
  
  "I suppose the Blackbeard Pirates were loudmouthed and eager to reveal some secrets that should have been best left ignored."
  
  One glance was enough to tell Lou Ellen wasn't amused by his words.
  
  And her black eyes indicated clearly she wanted a clear answer.
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "Since the Greek-Pantheon exists, it stands to reason other Pantheons are real. Why would the three brothers ruling the Sky, the Seas, and the Underworld exert major influence in our world and not deities like Horus or Odin? Gods and Goddesses exist. They are different and yet the same. There are extremely powerful Pantheons, much like there are weak ones."
  
  "And you didn't tell us."
  
  "If you remember correctly, I felt like revealing the truth before the expedition to get rid of a certain Drakon began, but there were still many Huntresses around, and most of them were quite...confrontational."
  
  Perseus breathed out.
  
  "Besides, I have to admit, it doesn't really change the problems we face here."
  
  "Excuse me? The Olympians didn't help us, most of the divine help you bargained for was obtained by going around them and keeping the Master of Olympus in the dark-"
  
  "Sorry, I should really have said 'it changes nothing, because we can't be helped by other Pantheons'. It is the next best thing to impossible Lou Ellen."
  
  The seriousness he said it was enough to convince the daughter of Hecate he wasn't joking.
  
  "But the Blackbeard Pirates...some mentioned they made sacrifices to a Hindu Goddess before sailing for the Sea of Monsters..."
  
  "The Blackbeard Pirates became a crew long before the Treaty of Jerusalem was agreed upon between the different Pantheons, Lou."
  
  And having all the Gods and Goddesses of War in the same place at once had made sure the 'Holy Land' wouldn't know peace for centuries, maybe millennia.
  
  "A treaty? Really?"
  
  "Yes, a treaty. By the time the Second World War came to a close, every Pantheon realised that the wars were getting out of hand. You had my half-brothers trying to compensate for their weaknesses by hiring sons of Thor as Varangian mercenaries. You had sons of Sobek siding with the children of my Lord Uncle. You had Loki playing mayhem and allying with powerful Gods of twenty different Pantheons at once. The Second World War wasn't an extinction-level event, both from a divine and mortal perspective, but the Gods and the human race came quite close to the abyss. So they decided all the Pantheons had to be separated from each other."
  
  "Gods tend to not respect their own rules, even when they swear on the Styx."
  
  "Yes." The former Tyrant nodded. "That's why the separation was complete, beyond the ability of someone like Loki to return it to the previous status quo. Tell me, what do you think of multi-universe literature?"
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone paled.
  
  "No, surely they didn't do that!"
  
  "Oh, I assure you, they did."
  
  "But...but there are still worshippers of other Gods in this world! I mean, I had a few cousins who worship Norse Goddesses!"
  
  Really? That was an interesting revelation, he was going to enjoy conversations on the subject as soon as they had the time for it.
  
  "Assuming say, one of your cousins worships Thor, his prayers and the food and drink offerings he may give to the Norse God of Thunder are all going to him, of course. The big difference since 1945 is that Thor is fighting Giants into an entirely different reality, and he can't send the Valkyries before your demise. However, should your cousin fall in a glorious battle, his or her soul will indeed go to Valhalla, in a world similar and yet very different from the one we currently live into."
  
  There was more to it, the entire thing was damn complex. And evidently, the original Treaty, the one which had been signed using near-unbreakable oaths, was not available to the public.
  
  "I would have loved to bargain with Kali or Loki for a little divine help in exchange of maximum mayhem, Lou. I would truly love to. But unless somehow across the Multiverse the Treaty is made null and void, this simply won't happen. And before you say anything, I'm pretty sure that even if we topple the current Olympians and become rulers and masters of this planet, it won't return things to how they were before WWII's end. The Greek-Roman Pantheon received this reality when it was time to divide the spoils."
  
  "It's...but in that case, why were the Huntresses so angry that you spoke of it? I mean, this couldn't change anything, since the other Pantheons aren't able to help!"
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "First and foremost, Lou, the Gods don't really want this information to spread. After all, it implies that no matter how powerful they currently are, there was a not-so-ancient time where they didn't rule this reality as Overlords. They were mere Kings and Queens. Plenty of them absolutely hate being reminded of that."
  
  "Okay...that makes sense."
  
  "And as for the second reason...yes, the Gods of other Pantheons can't help, be it by providing you the muscle, intervening directly, or selling you powerful artefacts. That doesn't mean you are completely cut off from them. For those who have the ingenuity, there are still some methods to exchange information. Obviously, there is no guarantee the exchange will give you priceless information, and the waiting time before getting each answer is horribly long-"
  
  "That's how you get all the information no one else has a clue about, don't you?"
  
  "Oh, I have plenty of other methods to acquire information, Lou." Perseus chuckled. "Many include sordid betrayals and great conspiracies."
  
  "Why I am not surprised?"
  
  Alas, as fun as it would have been to continue this extremely interesting conversation, it wouldn't be wise to force Circe to wait for them.
  
  "Let's go. I've always dreamed about proclaiming my eternal friendship to a Titaness."
  
  In the distance, he was quite sure the Immortal Sorceress eavesdropping upon this private exchange wanted to change him into a pig.
  
  "Thanks to an abundance of low felonies, the Trident is about to prevail."
  
  Author's note:
  
  The next chapter (and it promises to be a big one, for sure) will likely be titled Clash of the Titans.
  
  You think you have seen Perseus 'Hellwalker' Jackson escalate? You were totally mistaken. The escalation begins here, and it is not going to stop before the grand finale.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen:
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis, now serving the Goddess Khione in death
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper, Chuck, Jim plus fourteen other Legionnaire mutineers
  
  Gallowborne Division - all seventeen Legionnaires
  
  Nick Coleman, son of Quirinus
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber, transformed into a golden penguin and unfortunately for him, died as one
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and became the Champion of Khione
  
  Drew Tanaka - daughter of Aphrodite: became a living weapon, and the new Champion of Persephone
  
  Calypso Tenebrae - daughter of Atlas, joins the Suicide Squad for a moon, may have a slight grudge against Olympus
  
  Hera - completely blamed for organising and celebrating marriages without the approval of Olympus. She is also a claimant to the title of Goddess of Seasons now.
  
  Perseus Jackson - for reasons which don't need to be explained
  
  Gallowborne 'Division':
  
  17 ex-Legionnaires, condemned to be thrown in the most dangerous situations for their attempted mutiny; their names are now forsaken, and they are now known as 'Future Zombie', 'Cannon-Fodder', 'Scapegoat', 'Dead Legionnaire Walking', etc...
  
  It must be alas noted that all the Gallowborne Legionnaires all perished during their Redemption Mission on the beach of C.'C's Spa and Resort. Perseus Jackson has already declined all responsibility in the matter.
  
  'FORCE S' - Fleet order of battle for Operation Titanomachy:
  
  HPMS Inevitable Doom - Super-Mega Yacht, fleet flagship (Grand Admiral Perseus Jackson commanding)
  
  HPMS Moby Dick - Giant Mecha-Whale (Drew Tanaka commanding)
  
  HPMS Red October - Typhoon-class Submarine (Captain Marko Ramius commanding)
  
  Jupiter Invictus - modified Ticonderoga-class Cruiser (Tribune Erica Keller commanding)
  
  Rhenus - modified Oliver Hazard Perry-class Frigate (Centurion Michael Kahale commanding)
  
  Etna - modified Kilauea-class Ammunition Ship, anti-air defences recently added
  
  Corinthus - modified Neosho-class Oiler, anti-air defences recently added
  
  Ave Caesar - modified Ticonderoga-class Cruiser (First Centurion Octavian MacArthur commanding)
  
  HPMS Queen Anne's Revenge - 42-cannons galleon (Admiral Blackbeard commanding)
  
  HPMS Brundisium - pirate-captured Roman ship, modified Neosho-class Oiler
  
  HPMS Vesuvius - pirate-captured Roman ship, modified Kilauea-class Ammunition Ship
  
  HPMS Burning Dragon - 74-guns ship of the line
  
  HPMS Jolly Roger - 48-cannons galleon
  
  HPMS Black Pearl - 40-cannons East Indiamen galleon
  
  HPMS Royal Fortune - 40-cannons frigate
  
  HPMS Ranger - 12-cannons brigantine
  
  HPMS Light of the Orient - 8-cannons junk
  
  And yes HPMS stands for His Pirate Majesty Ship. Jackson insisted.
  
  Notable reinforcements of the Suicide Squad for Operation Titanomachy:
  
  Calypso Tenebrae, daughter of Atlas and Tethys
  
  Hylla Ramirez-Arellano, daughter of Bellona
  
  Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, daughter of Bellona
  
  Captain Marko Ramius and twenty officers of Red October
  
  And I believe that's everything I wanted to write this time. See you on the other side of the Maelstrom soon...
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Clash of the Titans
  Chapter 26
  
  Clash of the Titans
  
  On the beautiful morning of December 29, the newly proclaimed 'Force S' left anchor and sailed away from C.C's Spa and Resort.
  
  It was a powerful naval force: though Perseus Jackson had deliberately left the Second Chance inside the Forge of All Perils, Force S boasted fifteen warships, a giant Mecha-Whale, and one capital submarine.
  
  It was, by all things considered, a far more considerable gathering of firepower than the Roman Expeditionary Force had possessed when they had entered the Sea of Monsters months ago.
  
  The goal?
  
  Challenge the forces of Tethys, Titaness of the Seas, and free the captive God of the Forges.
  
  Or die in the attempt.
  
  Did we realise how hideously outnumbered we were going to be?
  
  Yes. Yes, I think all the intelligent officers had this thought in a corner of their head.
  
  But there was still a certain amount of confidence bordering on arrogance.
  
  Everyone in Force S had survived trials which would have killed lesser mortals. These were not novices aboard the warships, but long-lived veterans of the Zone Mortalis.
  
  The day and the night passed almost without incident, with only nine monster attacks reported and dealt with.
  
  And then at dawn, when Forge MP-42 was almost within strike range, the wind abated.
  
  Operation Titanomachy really was about to begin.
  
  Beginning of Chapter 15 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2, by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  30 December 2006, Super-Mega Yacht HPMSInevitable Doom, the Sea of Monsters
  
  It had been only three days since Octavian had been forced to obey his commands, and he already hated Perseus Jackson.
  
  The bastard treated him like a vulgar plebeian, and summoned him when he wanted for the most futile reasons! He also had refused to name him as second-in-command!
  
  But the worst part was without question the clothes. The son of Poseidon had donned a parody of a proper eighteenth century naval uniform. Why parody? Because Octavian was not aware of any navy where an orange tricorn and a red-and-black striped cloak were mandatory. And the less said about the parrot on his right shoulder, the better.
  
  "Right," the mad Demigod gave them a disturbing grin. "Captain Bonney, I trust you won't ask again why I didn't take the Second Chance with Force S? In case you had any doubt, yes, it is exactly to not deal with situations like this one."
  
  The daughter of Demeter - dressed like a pirate prostitute - nodded humbly.
  
  "This is all fine and all," and Octavian had to control himself to not react to his voice, "but many warships are still becalmed. Plenty of your modern toys can sail without the wind, but the Queen Anne's Revenge and others aren't so lucky."
  
  "Indeed, Admiral Blackbeard," Jackson seemed to find the entire problem amusing, for some reason.
  
  "The Titaness really intends to stop us before the battle even begins," Tribune Erica Keller grimaced.
  
  "Oh, it isn't the Titaness' fault," the bastard-in-command corrected her. "The command of the winds, be it in a Zone Mortalis or elsewhere, is only the prerogative and the duty of the God of the Winds, which we may call Lord A, for the simplicity of it. And yes, before you ask, Lord A doesn't take orders from the Titaness."
  
  There was a fake shrug.
  
  "He does, however, take orders from Olympus."
  
  "This is bad," the daughter of Aphrodite commented. And what was it with these women all dressing like whores and prostitutes? "For the moment, the Titaness hasn't reacted, but if we stay becalmed here for too long, she's going to get impatient and send the sea monsters. Without wind, many warships will be easy prey for them."
  
  "This is a correct description of what is about to happen should not a solution to be found."
  
  Octavian cleared his throat.
  
  It enraged him that the bastard completely and deliberately ignored him.
  
  "Fortunately for you, I anticipated this childish attempt to delay the attack of Force S." The mad grin was so reckless, so dangerous, that Octavian knew plunging his gladius in the back of this traitor couldn't be a sin.
  
  "While I appreciate the defiance and the will to only obey your own laws," Blackbeard rumbled, "the winds and the tide do not listen to mortals like us."
  
  Perseus Jackson bared his teeth, his red eye was full of malice...and then he turned away.
  
  The black-haired Demigod slowly walked towards the prow of his super-mega yacht, drawing a small bronze-coloured Trident from his pocket.
  
  The Trident was thrown overboard, and there were murmurs of incomprehension.
  
  "Oh, Kymopoleia, beloved sister, Mistress of Violent Storms and Black Seas, I humbly request your help."
  
  What? But the Olympians had told everyone that he wasn't to be helped-
  
  It was-
  
  No way a true Goddess was going to answer-
  
  The blue sky suddenly became not-so-blue after all.
  
  The brilliance of the sun dimmed.
  
  The waves, almost inexistent, suddenly began to take strength anew.
  
  There was an explosion of water several metres before the Inevitable Doom.
  
  The wind hissed and Octavian shivered.
  
  And then she rose.
  
  Octavian began to truly felt fear.
  
  This was a Goddess, all right. She had to be at least six metres-tall, and her white face shone with some ethereal bioluminescence. Her clothes appeared to be made from algae. A large Trident of bronze was in her hands.
  
  "Brother," the immortal spoke in an irritated tone. "I see you've remembered my existence."
  
  "You wound me, sister. I remember the existence of all my siblings...if only to swear to them all my eternal friendship."
  
  "You are a miscreant, and if you abuse the good will of Rhode, I will tear you apart and feed you to my sharks."
  
  "Does a good fisherman call a force of elemental destruction to catch a salmon?" the bastard asked with a bravado that would be impressive if the consequences weren't going to get them all killed. "I request the help of the appropriate Goddess at the right time, no more, no less."
  
  "And what would this help entail?"
  
  "I want you to raise the storm, sister. The greatest storm, and the last. I want the winds and the currents to push us to the gates of Forge MP-42, and then laugh as two enemy fleets will fight in the middle of an aquatic battlefield darker than ink. I want my enemies forced to choose between your hurricane and my missiles. I want even sea monsters to feel fear."
  
  Octavian felt his stomach sink with the weight of despair. Jackson was completely mad.
  
  "After all," the black-haired monster laughed, "it will be difficult for Tethys to turn the sea against us if it is already in fury!"
  
  No. No, he couldn't mean-
  
  "An eye for an eye, and a storm for a storm," the mad Demigod proclaimed. "She raised the Maelstrom once, and I will retaliate. Let there be no peace until one fleet has been sunk and swallowed by your storms!"
  
  The worst part, the Centurion acknowledged, was that Perseus Jackson had now his sister's undivided attention.
  
  "I can do that," the smile was cruel and inhuman. "But I want a payment."
  
  "I can free her."
  
  "You-"
  
  The haughty expression was replaced by something that could only be replaced by shock.
  
  "I can free her. I swear it on the Styx." Something infernal growled on the horizon.
  
  "If you do..." Kymopoleia seemed suddenly hesitant and purposeless. "Then I suppose Atlantis will be in your debt. If you fail-"
  
  "If I fail, Styx will have her due, yes."
  
  "True." Kymopoleia grew several metres higher before shaking her head. "I want a temple on my own inside the boundaries of New Byzantium."
  
  "Consider it done."
  
  The grin which followed proved that the two were indeed children of Poseidon.
  
  "And you will build it with your bare hands."
  
  "Oh, come on, sister..."
  
  "Did I stutter?"
  
  Perseus Jackson huffed.
  
  "Fine. But can I at least hire an architect for the plans? Building something is one thing, but mathematics, foundation, and masonry have never been among my strengths."
  
  "You can," the Sea Goddess conceded generously, certainly eager to have a temple which looked like a temple, and not the Tower of Pisa. "Do we have a bargain?"
  
  "We have." The son of the Earthshaker nodded...right before the bronze Trident was thrown back at him.
  
  "Then you will have your storm, brother. Strike when you are ready."
  
  There was a titanic explosion of water, and Kymopoleia was gone as fast as she had appeared.
  
  But this point was almost forgotten, as a cold wind blew around them, and a devilish red eye stared at them.
  
  "No more becalming, no more retreats," the Pirate Lord in charge of the Suicide Squad told them. "It is time to go to war."
  
  30 December 2006, HPMS Red October, Sea of Monsters
  
  It didn't seem possible that mere minutes ago, the sky had been entirely cloudless and a terribly hot sun had made them sweat.
  
  Why? For the good reason this tropical summer weather was entirely gone.
  
  The sky was a dark grey, and the sun was nowhere in sight anymore.
  
  And it was going to get worse.
  
  Marko felt it in his bones.
  
  Oh yes, it was going to get worse.
  
  The dark waves were of a shade he didn't like at all, and the splendid blue was no doubt soon going to turn into the kind of dark ink no one wanted to navigate upon.
  
  The waves were rising high.
  
  Kymopoleia had promised a storm, and it was going to be a cataclysmic one.
  
  "Are we ready to dive?"
  
  "We are."
  
  "Then do so without losing a minute." Marko ordered. "The storm is almost upon us, and I prefer to be at least one hundred metres below the surface when the full wrath of the Goddess will hit."
  
  "Yes, Captain. Our orders?"
  
  "We are going to keep the sea monsters at bay, and participate in the missile salvoes. I trust the tubes are loaded?"
  
  "Everything is loaded and ready to launch." His second told him before finishing with a grimace. "I've never thought we would do it against monsters and angry deities."
  
  "I didn't plan for this either. But it is a way to pay our debt...and certainly our very last chance to one day escape the Sea of Monsters."
  
  The Red October began its descent into the dark depths, and many men shuddered as the presence of Moby Dick made itself felt, already savaging several groups of scouts sent by their enemies.
  
  "It is time, Captain."
  
  "Very well," Marko replied, showing more serenity to his men than he felt deep inside. "You can fire the missiles."
  
  30 December 2006, Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters
  
  Before today, Isthmus had been confident the anti-missile batteries of the Forge could handle everything a warband of Demigods could throw at them.
  
  This wasn't the case.
  
  The Suicide Squad had launched when they were incredibly close, and the storm blinded many sensors. Worse, the new Telekhine designed missiles were found in no mechanical database, and they 'skimmed' over the waves, making detection horribly difficult.
  
  "Launch," the dusky dolphin commander grunted, wishing he had more than ten seconds to react.
  
  But there wasn't enough time.
  
  The flak and the anti-missiles illuminated the dark sea and the tormented sky.
  
  The hyper-sophisticated automatons and the defending servants did their best.
  
  It wasn't enough.
  
  There were two hundred missiles in the initial salvo, and by a near-miraculous performance, Isthmus' subordinates managed to stop eighty-nine of them.
  
  All the rest got through, and Forge MP-42 trembled as explosion after explosion engulfed it.
  
  Seconds later, the sections where ammunition storages had been hit detonated too.
  
  The ground trembled under his fins, and without anyone needing to inform him, the dusky dolphin knew many of his warriors had just been sent to the Underworld.
  
  "Damage report," he commanded.
  
  "All the ships in the Beta docks are gone, Commander. The sluices to open the Gate are out of service too."
  
  "Secondary explosions in the Iota Assembly Line. Losses estimated at over three thousand automatons and rising."
  
  "Energy shortages on Anti-Missile Batteries Kappa and Theta."
  
  "Communications are jammed outside of Forge MP-42. We have lost contact with-"
  
  One salvo.
  
  One salvo and the Suicide Squad had done more damage than a thousand Legionnaires would ever be able to inflict.
  
  "Retaliation?"
  
  "We don't have...the storm is shutting down all our advanced fire-control systems, Commander. And the electronic warfare potency the enemy ships have is far better than what the Triumvirate recorded days ago!"
  
  If he had not been on the receiving end of it, Isthmus would have spent several seconds admiring the beauty and the simplicity of the scheme. 'Raising the storm' should have been one of the greatest hidden aces of his side, but the son of Poseidon had right from the start made it his own. And far from being a mere throw of the dice, the Demigod had been able to build a strategy all around it.
  
  "We can wait it out," one of his lieutenants suggested. "Damage remains light. Surely they don't have enough missiles-"
  
  "Second salvo! Second salvo incoming! Two hundred missiles in attack mode!"
  
  "You were saying?" Isthmus asked sarcastically.
  
  "I...yes, this was a mistake. Orders, Commander?"
  
  "We have to destroy their missile launchers and their arsenal ships," the dusky dolphin replied grimly. "And since the storm is covering their approach, I fear we are going to have to kill them at close-quarters."
  
  Explosions rocked his command headquarters as more missiles evaded the counter-fire of his tubes. Tons of metal were sent to the sky. Torpedoes and drones disappeared into several huge pyres. Lights flickered.
  
  "This isn't going to be easy." Oh yes, this was the mother of all understatements.
  
  "No, but the Goddess who supports them can't do more than raise the storm, otherwise Lady Tethys will be free to intervene and give her a lesson." Isthmus looked at the figures and acknowledged the inevitable. "Mistress, I think it is best for us to counterattack. We are not going to win this battle by standing on the defensive."
  
  "I agree. Fight as you wish, Isthmus."
  
  "Thank you, Mistress," the Commander answered with a military salute before turning towards the rest of his command staff. "No more restraints, no more fighting with one fin tied behind our backs."
  
  "The fleet is sallying out of the docks?"
  
  "The fleet is to sally out, yes." Isthmus confirmed. "And all the maritime automatons, the drones, the warships we raised from the sea bed, and of course the sea snakes are to go with them."
  
  It might seem a little overkill, and it was going to leave it with few reserves. But at this point, Isthmus really didn't want to know what Perseus Jackson had planned to storm Forge MP-42.
  
  It was better to engineer the destruction of his entire fleet command - the so-called 'Force S' - before an amphibious landing could take place.
  
  "Tell the Gorgons tactical command of the fleet is theirs. In the mean time, we are going to strike back with our missiles."
  
  "Commander Isthmus, the accuracy of our salvoes is going to suck, it's horrible out there, the storm-"
  
  "I know, the storm is wrecking everything."
  
  The images made it very clear. There were winds of hundreds of kilometres of hour out there, waves as tall as an aircraft carrier, and things far more terrible. The divine daughter of Poseidon had seriously gone all out to support her mortal brother.
  
  "But we have a lot of missiles. They aren't going to miss all."
  
  "Third enemy missile salvo incoming!"
  
  "ALL MISSILE BATTERIES! FIRE AT WILL!"
  
  30 December 2006, HPMS Inevitable Doom, approaches of Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters
  
  If they didn't have a Titaness and several sorceresses to defend them with magical shields, they would all have died in the last minutes.
  
  Richard wasn't sure of many things, but he was certain of that.
  
  The entire battlefield was hell in water.
  
  They were all tied by enchanted ropes, otherwise the waves would have propelled them into the dark cauldron raging everywhere.
  
  The wind bit them and was devastating in the extreme.
  
  And it was raining missiles.
  
  Dozens, then hundreds of missiles tried to kill them, and they could only endure and launch more missiles at the Forge, far away in the darkness.
  
  And yet they had to be there, on deck, for while Moby Dick tore apart the huge monsters, there were thousands and more of smaller monstrous crabs and other crustaceans trying to board them.
  
  His blade was covered in blue-green sea blood.
  
  The son of Hercules was desperately trying to catch his breath, and trying to convince himself the enemy would find no flaws to exploit.
  
  Ten seconds later, the enemy proved him wrong.
  
  The Inevitable Doom and the Jupiter Invictus were leading the battle-line of Force S. This was only good sense, for theirs were the best magical defences of the entire fleet.
  
  Which meant that when the missiles changed their targeting priorities, it was extremely bad.
  
  There was only a second to realise that this time, the servants of the Titaness had focused on the Etna.
  
  There was only a fraction of second to wonder how many missiles had hit.
  
  And then the Etna, imitating the volcano it had been named for, blew up as the fire hits the ammunition stored inside its belly.
  
  It was a horrible flame rising to the black stormy skies.
  
  It threw quantities of debris everywhere.
  
  And Richard knew that all the crew of the Etna had perished within a few seconds...which was probably for the best, for no Demigod could really survive in these monster-infested waters which had waves as tall as skyscrapers.
  
  "JACKSON!" The son of the God of Strength screamed.
  
  Seriously, it was perfectly reasonable to never call Kymopoleia during a Great Quest! What good did it do to hide your fleet into a storm if the storm almost sank you before the battle started?
  
  "KEEP YOUR CALM!" The son of Poseidon shouted back from his position on the rear of the ship where he fired some sort of gigantic laser cannon at a target Richard couldn't see. "WE HAVE ALMOST DONE THE MOST DIFFICULT PART!"
  
  The most difficult part?
  
  It was not-
  
  There was an explosion behind them. Another ship lost. Hundreds of lives gone.
  
  "That had to be the Light of the Orient!" Luke Castellan commented. "I told him this junk had nothing to do in this battle of madness!"
  
  "NONSENSE! I ASSURE YOU THIS WAS THEIR LAST MISSILE SALVO!"
  
  "Why in the name of my father Bacchus would they stop firing?" Dakota McDonald powered the words with everything he had in his lungs.
  
  The timing was horrible...or the Fates hated them. Or both.
  
  Suddenly, the Sea of Monsters began to illuminate itself. It was some sort of underwater bioluminescence, no doubt. They were in a cauldron of darkness, so the light wasn't coming from the Sun or the Moon!
  
  It could have been comforting.
  
  It was not.
  
  Not when it meant that they could see on the port side of the Inevitable Doom an immense armada charging to kill them all.
  
  "Fifty, fifty-five..." mental calculus had never been his strength, but here you could guess in a few seconds they were going to be incredibly outnumbered. "At least sixty ships, and the Titans only know how many are unseen in the darkness."
  
  "Don't forget the damned sea snakes!"
  
  Richard would have preferred to forget them, thank you very much.
  
  As many of the monsters revealed themselves, it was evident some of them were so colossal their heads were as big as the Inevitable Doom.
  
  Tattered sails and poison-foaming maws; this had to be the spear the Titaness had kept assembled to destroy every Demigod so stupid as to challenge the defences of her prisons.
  
  "Change the priority targets of the missiles!" Richard barked to the cackling penguin. "We need to kill these damn beasts before-"
  
  "Ignore that order!"
  
  Jackson, somehow, had rushed behind him.
  
  "Captain, if we don't do that-"
  
  "Don't worry, we are going to deal with them," the son of Poseidon smirked. "But it will be my way. Missiles and cannons are not the weapons we need here."
  
  "Excuse me?" Richard retorted in a flabbergasted voice. "We are outnumbered more than five to one, and you want to discard some of our most powerful weapons."
  
  "Six-to-one, at the very least, but who is counting?" The son of Poseidon turned his head, and on this, the daughter of Hecate joined him. "Are you ready?"
  
  "Not really," Lou Ellen Blackstone was wearing only her S-Suit, and seemed extremely reluctant...which given past exploits, was a warning something incredibly crazy was going to happen. "Is it time?"
  
  On this, Perseus Jackson drew an old-fashioned watch from his pocket, consulted it, before returning it from where it came before a wave drowned it.
  
  "It is time, yes."
  
  "Time for what?" Richard knew his tone must betray his fear.
  
  "This fleet is far too strong for Force S," the scion of the Seas closed his eyes and explained calmly, as if they were not in the middle of a storm and about to be flanked by a titanic fleet of monsters and formerly sunken warships. "And even if we sank and killed every hull and soul aboard it, the Titaness would gather the pieces in a few hours and send them back on the surface. A conventional naval fight is one we lose, one hundred times out of a hundred."
  
  "But then..."
  
  The blonde sorceress kneeled and a golden witch-circle materialised on the deck. Glyphs which weren't Greek or Latin were lit one by one. And during all of this, the armada unleashed by the Titaness accelerated.
  
  Already several ships of their own battle-line were disobeying and trying to change course.
  
  "Idiots," Perseus Jackson remarked, having perceived the same information relayed by the sea-protected tactical display. "Lou Ellen?"
  
  "Almost done...yes. Your hand, please?"
  
  "The things I do for my family," Perseus smugly replied...but he extended his left arm.
  
  The daughter of Hecate drew a curved ritual dagger and struck like a viper.
  
  The blood of a Demigod flowed into the ritual circle.
  
  And the future Apprentice to Circe - yeah, everyone intelligent among the Suicide Squad was aware of that - sang an incantation which gave him the urge to run away as far away from her as was humanly possible.
  
  The seas shrieked.
  
  The winds unleashed the totality of their wrath.
  
  And as the sound ended, Lou Ellen Blackstone collapsed.
  
  "Michael!" The son of Apollo rushed to their side. "Bring her to her cabin! Use the Golden Fleece for ten seconds on her!"
  
  "You need healing too, Jackson, this blade-"
  
  "I will be fine," the son of Poseidon dismissed the matter like it was no big deal...and in fact the wound was almost already closed. "The dagger was prepared to give just one cut, don't worry."
  
  "What was that supposed to do? We are down one sorceress now!"
  
  "I thought it was evident, my dear muscled lieutenant! The Titaness brought her own monsters to kill us!"
  
  There was a chorus of screams, and then a thunderous sound that resonated into the storm like the death of everything.
  
  "So I thought it fitting that I brought another monster to destroy them all."
  
  The bioluminescence on the port side abruptly failed on a large zone.
  
  No, Richard corrected in his own mind, it had not failed.
  
  It had not been deactivated.
  
  It had been swallowed.
  
  Several warships and giant sea snakes were missing.
  
  They were missing because fangs as big reefs were emerging.
  
  They were missing because there was-
  
  "What in the name of everything monstrous is that thing?"
  
  "Grant, I present you my half-sister Charybdis. Annabeth! Tell Ethan we need all the speed we have, now! We are just on time! The sea-swallowing is about to begin!"
  
  "It is-"
  
  It was insane. But it was also mad brilliance.
  
  The fleet Tethys had sent had thought they had them dead to rights, but in fact, with Charybdis suddenly in the very heart of their formation-
  
  "You intended to kill them that way all along, didn't you?"
  
  "Guilty as charged," the Lord of the Suicide Squad replied with a modest shrug. "I must also mention that for as long as Charybdis is here, the Titaness of the Seas won't be able to summon a maelstrom to sink us all. You can't create something like that when there is already a giant whirlpool monster so close."
  
  His mind was incredibly scary, that wasn't in question.
  
  And words failed him.
  
  How it could be anything else when one by one, no matter how loud they shrieked, the sea snakes were unable to fight against the monstrous suction? Warships were capsizing and being dragged towards one of the most awful demises he could imagine.
  
  In mere seconds, an armada that could have ruled several seas was broken, fighting for its very lives, and about to be digested. Many cannons and missile-launchers were pointed at the world-ending maw.
  
  It had no effect. The sea was swallowed, and the enemy fleet was going down with it.
  
  Of course, they weren't the only victims. The Burning Dragon, the only 74-cannons ship of the line, had disobeyed Jackson's orders, and now that it had tried to change course, it was out of formation and closer to the maw than any other ship under Suicide Squad's command.
  
  It was too close.
  
  The Burning Dragon was doomed.
  
  The son of Heracles pleaded silently when his eyes met those of Perseus'.
  
  He didn't like the pirates, but these deaths...it was really an awful way to die.
  
  But the son of Poseidon only made a silent 'no'.
  
  "There is no way we can tow any warship out of the maw."
  
  They heard them on the radio frequencies, cursing their names.
  
  And they could only watch and do nothing; already all ships had enough difficulties resisting the monstrous hunger of Charybdis.
  
  The Burning Dragon disappeared into the maw forever.
  
  "How long do you intend for it to stay?" Richard croaked. "You are going to send it back, right?"
  
  "I am not," the seas shook and Charybdis at last stopped devouring her warships...and more warships and monsters came out of the darkness. "You see, the Titaness has a monster in her service that can give Charybdis a fight."
  
  Perseus Jackson paused dramatically as his eyes narrowed in incomprehension.
  
  "You may know her as Medusa."
  
  "What? You think...you think her ability to change beings of flesh into stone can affect this legendary monster?"
  
  "My dear muscled lieutenant, the entire point of this phase of Operation Titanomachy is to find out."
  
  30 December 2006, HPMS Queen Anne's Revenge, approaches of Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters
  
  "Fate was not kind to them today."
  
  Edward Teach, son of the War God, seized the opportunity to drink more rum.
  
  After what Perseus Jackson had just done, Blackbeard really thought he needed it to maintain his usual cheerfulness.
  
  There were crazy men he had worked under in the past, and there were bloodthirsty men who had commanded him too.
  
  None of them, it must be said, had decided to try feeding an entire fleet of enemies to Charybdis.
  
  "The rest of the enemy fleet is trying to engage the monster, Captain. We can move against-"
  
  "No, Auger. The time has not come for us to move against him."
  
  "But-"
  
  "The enemy fleet isn't defeated, and the Goddess will make sure the storm will continue to rage, sinking the cowards and the unlucky." The Master of the Queen Anne's Revenge continued with a smirk. "And we are no cowards, aren't we?"
  
  "But we may be unlucky, Captain."
  
  The Admiral of the Blackbeard Pirates laughed raucously.
  
  "Ha! A good point, Lafitte! Let me watch the battle, it looks like our enemies are trying to kill Charybdis."
  
  At that point, to be fair, it wasn't like the fleet of the Titaness could really do something else. The entire vanguard and a good part of the central squadrons had been fed to the giant maw.
  
  Most of the rest was dispersed, and unable to come to grips with Force S, which had resumed its long-range bombardment.
  
  Either they attacked Charybdis, or they were going to be swallowed by the sea every time the monster decided to have another lunch.
  
  Attacking was the natural solution, though Blackbeard wasn't going to deny the sheer amount of courage it took.
  
  Whether you were a sea snake or a sailor now transformed into a dolphin, it was impossible to forget you attacked a monster that was easily one hundred times the size of a galleon, if not more.
  
  "There are some souls who have ambitions beyond mortal understanding. They are destined to shake the world. And then there are those who end up feeding the monsters. Who are you, I wonder?"
  
  Engines of destruction that had been rebuilt in Hephaestus' Forge fired. Greek Fire jars were hurled by catapults. Incendiary ammunition was combined with lethal spells. Missiles joined the dance. Several monsters grabbed enormous rams and charged to ram the guardian of one of the Sea of Monsters' entrance.
  
  It was sheer slaughter.
  
  Tentacles the size of galleons struck the sea, killing sea snakes like they were childish toys.
  
  Most of the ammunition wasn't able to scratch the skin.
  
  "How did he summon that beast in the first place, Captain?"
  
  "Blood, of course," the legendary pirate replied. "Blood is always the key, and in this case it is the beacon too."
  
  At last, there was a terrifying blast of dark grey magic from a ship in the rear-guard.
  
  And this time, it had an effect; a small part of the world-ending maw turned grey.
  
  "By the Gods, Captain, it did work! They have-"
  
  "It is a race now, yes." Blackbeard admitted.
  
  "A race?"
  
  "Either the Gorgon manages to save the day by changing Charybdis into stone...or the entire fleet is going to be devoured. The situation is not favourable for the fleet, evidently."
  
  Three more galleons and two Cruisers were swallowed in the next thirty seconds, as if the monster wanted to support his words.
  
  The Gorgon replied with a terrifying gray ray which returned some light into the storm.
  
  Charybdis didn't like that at all. Oh no, the monster did hate it. It began to rise from the depths.
  
  They had seen only the maw, the fangs, and some trace of it so far.
  
  Now it changed.
  
  Blackbeard had seen some hideous things, but Charybdis effortlessly crushed them in an instant by her sheer horrifying appearance.
  
  The monster was a disgusting worm with spikes and tentacles. Its ugly shell of blue-green gave you the urge to vomit. The tentacles which decimated the ships were akin to limbs of octopi, but twisted and wrong.
  
  Yes, it wasn't the size of the monster - greater than a sea mountain - or the fangs and the maw which were the problem.
  
  It was the wrongness. There was something which made his skin crawl, his face sweat, and his hands tighten around the solid ropes of the Queen Anne's Revenge.
  
  And it was just with mere glances.
  
  "Did you put her at the entrance of the Sea of Monsters because it was such a huge monster, oh Gods?" Blackbeard asked out loud. "Or did you move her to that god-forsaken sea's entrance because you felt the same?"
  
  The battle raged, almost beyond the comprehension of mortal eyes.
  
  Blasts of stone-changing power were cast. Ships died.
  
  But the greyness, the unnatural stone, began to slow the hungry maw down.
  
  The stone changed the fangs.
  
  The awful worm's fury abated.
  
  It began to slow down.
  
  It may have been a mistake for the body to emerge from the depths; the Gorgon would have had far more problems attacking what she couldn't see.
  
  "Still, for the strength of the Gorgon to prevail..." Blackbeard used his spyglass, and grunted in satisfaction. "Ha! I see."
  
  "Captain?"
  
  "The two other Gorgon sisters are lending their strengths to the third. One for all, and all for one." The Pirate Admiral laughed. "And now...the greater monster is defeated."
  
  There was an ultimate roar of defiance, and the stone-cursed Charybdis fell. It was like a giant whale crashed into the water, except this time, the monster was far bigger than any whale had ever been or would be.
  
  And as if even the Gods and the Goddesses had enough, the winds and the waves were suddenly less dangerous and cruel.
  
  "Of course, there are only six or seven enemy ships left...Charybdis almost wiped them out."
  
  The strategy of Perseus Jackson - if you could call this epic series of mad ideas that - had worked. The majority of the sea monsters were gone.
  
  "Ha! It seems Fate has decided we will not die today, boys!"
  
  30 December 2006, HPMS Inevitable Doom, approaches of Forge MP-42
  
  "I think this battle is going to be a legend within a few days."
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "I think your prediction has a good chance of ending up true, Annabeth."
  
  All told, the battle had lasted about two hours - yes, he had checked his watch to be sure.
  
  Two hours.
  
  It was all that had been necessary for Charybdis to wipe out the armada of warships and monsters assembled to protect Forge MP-42.
  
  Now there was devastation as far as a mortal eye could see.
  
  The Inevitable Doom swam on a sea of debris, and the same was true for all the other warships which had survived the cataclysm - it was way too brutal and apocalyptic to be truly designated a 'battle'.
  
  "Three warships of Force S gone, Lou Ellen is exhausted, but we annihilated the fleet and the monsters."
  
  "And Medusa and her sisters look completely exhausted from what your drones allow us to see." The daughter of Athena answered. "By the way, were you the one to tell Kymopoleia to stop her storm?"
  
  "No," he confessed, "I gave no such order."
  
  The clouds had changed from 'pure blackness' to 'dark grey', and the height of the waves far less impressive since several minutes.
  
  "I suppose the Titaness intervened to calm things down."
  
  The son of Poseidon chuckled, before shrugging.
  
  "It is fine with me. I got what I needed from this battle."
  
  "The destruction of the fleet, I suppose, is critical, for without it, we can't exactly try to storm the Forge," the blonde-haired Demigoddess replied with her usual thoughtful tone, "but-"
  
  "I was referring to the fact Medusa was kind enough to change temporarily Charybdis into stone."
  
  "Temporarily?" Ah yes, some members of the Suicide Squad had made the wrong assumptions.
  
  "Yes, temporarily," Perseus replied without irony. "Charybdis was a Goddess before being changed into a mortal, and no matter how powerful, the three Gorgons don't have the power to overwhelm that kind of divine resistance. At a guess, I think they have expended enough of their strength to paralyse her for six or seven hours."
  
  "But...fine, I understand, Perseus. It isn't like we need that many hours to deal with Medusa and sent Charybdis back to the entrance of the Sea of Monsters, right?"
  
  Sometimes, there was no need to utter a monologue to pass a message.
  
  "Right?"
  
  "When I swore to Kymopoleia that I would free her," the former Tyrant of Helike mused, "I was speaking about Charybdis, of course."
  
  "Impossible," Ellen the Huntress declared, clearly having not understood his brilliance until this moment. "It's...impossible!"
  
  "I live to do impossible things," honestly, what was the point of repeating things that had already been done? It was boredom incarnate! What a sad way to waste your life-expectancy!
  
  "And no, it isn't impossible. It is merely insanely difficult. The body of Charybdis is so dangerous that any attempt to approach her would be incredibly stupid to attempt in normal circumstances. But Medusa took care of that little problem for me."
  
  "Err..." Dakota said weakly, before opening a jug filled with wine and almost emptying it in a few seconds. "Yes, that's...true. But how can you...how can you un-curse something so big? There are rituals belonging to my father which might purge Charybdis, but they would require you to take the madness in her stead, and anyway, they are incredibly slow. The stone curse effect will not last that long."
  
  "This is true. This is why I am going to use a far more direct approach." His eyes turned towards Calypso, who had just emerged from the chambers where she had been erecting the magical shields. "Of all Domains, Night is one of the most versatile and esoteric. Can I request you to open a Veil to shroud Charybdis, my Lady?"
  
  "Your request is acceptable," the daughter of Tethys smiled back.
  
  "Then we are going to begin immediately." There were some hours to fulfil his oath, but it was best to not waste any time, the consequences of failure would be dire for him and for everyone else.
  
  "And the Gorgons?" Clarisse asked. "They still have seven ships afloat."
  
  "Force S and the Suicide Squad will have to deal with the Gorgons." The commanding officer of the Suicide Squad rolled his eyes. "That shouldn't be too difficult. Their powers to change flesh into stone has been completely exhausted for most of the day, and the majority of their support is gone. Kill the acolytes and the sidekicks. Capture the three Gorgons. Bianca?"
  
  "I think you are underestimating them." The daughter of Hades grimaced.
  
  Perseus raised his eyes in direction of the grey skies.
  
  "You will have Drew and Moby Dick, for the love of the Gods! Sink their ships and capture them in giant nets for all I care."
  
  The son of Poseidon cleared his throat.
  
  "Lady Calypso? I am ready. Hera? You're going with me."
  
  30 December 2006, into the Veil of Night, beyond the Maw and the Curse
  
  Hera had expected the worst, and she was not disappointed.
  
  The moment the Night dissipated around them, there were under attack.
  
  Except the enemy was not a horde of mini-sea monsters.
  
  It was almost a sentient mass of blue-green algae.
  
  Fortunately, she had been loaned a sword of Stygian Iron, and the black metal was clearly one of the weaknesses of this aquatic threat.
  
  Once a few sword strikes burned the algae thoroughly, the things withdrawn.
  
  "Jackson, what in the name of-"
  
  "Later. We advance."
  
  Hera bit back a curse and followed him.
  
  "Burn," the son of Poseidon commanded, and in mere seconds, ancient torches were set aflame.
  
  Needless to say, the algae masses, which seemed to be everywhere around them, withdrew in a hurry.
  
  "Ah, better." The leader of the Suicide Squad smirked. "You recognise the place?"
  
  As a matter of fact, the former Queen of the Gods was surprised to see she could. There was magnificent blue and gold paint, with short marble columns and open balconies. Though ruin had mangled them, the statues of mermen and crustaceans were too easily recognisable for anything else.
  
  "This looks like one of Poseidon's palaces as he built them thousands of years ago."
  
  "Good."
  
  "Good?"
  
  "This means there is something left of Charybdis' soul. If we had been thrown into a swamp filled with maws, our mission would already be doomed from the very start." Perseus threw an unamused glance at the blue-green algae which tried to remain as close to them as the torches and the light allowed. "Though I really don't know what those vegetal parasites are doing here."
  
  "Your sisters didn't inform you of what was waiting ahead?"
  
  "My sisters didn't know most of the details," the black-haired Demigod admitted with a frown. "They were aware Chrysaor was the chief culprit behind her curse, that our father didn't declare war in answer, and that your ex-husband was responsible for the entire mess."
  
  There was a grimace, and for a moment, the red-eye was almost thoughtful.
  
  "And while I am far from a die-hard supporter of his, I'm beginning to have my doubts Zeus was truly guilty of what my sisters accused him of."
  
  "It doesn't seem very much his style," she acknowledged. "I wasn't around during that time, I only returned when the political blame was shifted around...but Zeus has always been more willing to sleep with an attractive Goddess than to curse one to an awful fate."
  
  "Exactly," Perseus nodded, "let's advance, and be careful around the stairs, I don't know if they can handle our passage."
  
  As it happened, the son of Poseidon was more pessimistic than the situation truly warranted: the stairs and the entire structure at the forefront of palace were incredibly damaged, but not that fragile, fortunately.
  
  It was not a happy tour, it must be insisted upon. Nothing was collapsing, but the majority of the palace was ruined. Statues were broken in half, when they weren't, they were dispersed in five or more parts, and all were headless. Priceless mosaics had been desecrated. Frescoes supposed to represent mighty galleys were blackened and covered with disgusting slime.
  
  Worse, the further they stepped into the palace, the worse the smell was. It reeked of rotten fish and pollution. It assaulted your nose and your senses, and after a minute or two, Hera wished she had thought of bringing a bottle of perfume with her to make the experience with her more tolerable.
  
  And with every step the claimant to the Throne of Seasons made, the worse the impression of wrongness increased.
  
  It reached a peak when they entered the Throne Room.
  
  It had clearly been built like one of these maritime-themed replicas of the Olympus Council Room which were always commissioned by Poseidon when he was angry at Zeus.
  
  Except here, eleven thrones were in ruins.
  
  And the scene which awaited them was one of horror.
  
  At first, Hera thought there was an enormous mass of algae immune to the torches and the light they carried with them.
  
  But it wasn't the case.
  
  The things were not blue-green algae, but blue-green tentacles.
  
  Charybdis had been a beautiful daughter of Poseidon, and part of it remained now. The sea nose was still there, along with her face.
  
  But her hair had been changed into tentacles. The upper part of her body had several eyes and mouths where none should ever be. The skin was scaly and wrong. And under the waist, there were thousands of blue-green tentacles, and they felt wrong, wrong, and wrong...
  
  The throne, by this point, looked entirely corrupted, covered in algae filth and-
  
  "Reveal," Perseus ordered.
  
  Reality shrieked, and in the centre of the Throne Room, a small table materialised, like it had always been here.
  
  The sensation of wrongness became near-unbearable.
  
  It was a crown? Yes, there was a crown of blue-green on the small table, but merely glancing at it hurt her eyes. The metal looked to be tentacles changed into dark metal, and the decoration was as if thorns had been shaped to be algae, the-
  
  "Jackson! What is it?" Hera was not ashamed to admit right now that this cursed thing made her very, very afraid. And her eyes burned for looking at it for too long.
  
  "I don't know," the son of Poseidon answered as he threw a torch forwards, revealing that the tentacles at the 'feet' of Charybdis were continuing until they linked with a cascade of algae pouring out of the crown. "But I can tell you two things: we have before our eyes the artefact responsible for the curse of my half-sister, and I am ninety-nine percent sure that Zeus played no part in this tragedy. At worse, he must have taken the reputation blow to ensure no one had to suffer like Charybdis here did."
  
  "That...that sounds like someone he would do when he is not busy siring bastards and giving hypocritical lessons to everyone. But what is this artefact?"
  
  "I don't know," Perseus Jackson said for the second time. "But I think we've been very lucky here."
  
  Lucky? This wasn't exactly the kind of word she would have been inclined to use.
  
  "Why?"
  
  "Because the crown isn't upon her head." Perseus grimaced. "Given the time Charybdis spent guarding the entrance of the Seas of Monsters, if there had been some deep compatibility, the 'coronation' would have taken place. It isn't exactly like she looks able to resist the power of this abominable trinket, no?"
  
  The aura of wrongness exploded in their face like a bomb.
  
  Hera emptied her stomach in a few seconds.
  
  "Err...Jackson? I think...I think it would...be...for the best to not insult it?"
  
  "Yes, you may very well be right." The male Demigod hadn't retched, but he looked as pale as she probably was. "This is a problem. I don't think I have the strength to destroy it. I already have enough difficulty just glancing at it. You?"
  
  "I...it hurts. Mere glances already hurt."
  
  "Then severing the connection between Charybdis and the crown is the only solution."
  
  Hera thought the 'wrongness aura' would become unbearable, but if anything, there was an emotion of...approval?
  
  Jackson didn't look pleased at all. Then again, given how wrong the crown felt, anything that met its approval was likely not something good.
  
  "And how are we supposed to do that?"
  
  "The algae were vulnerable to fire. Maybe these tentacles of sea colour have the same weakness?"
  
  "Maybe?"
  
  "Dear Antigone," Hera immediately scowled, "I don't even know what this crown is. I'm stumbling in the dark, same as you are. Now that it is said...do you think you can call for Summer here?"
  
  "I can try," the former Queen of the Gods hesitated. "But I can't promise I will be able to control it."
  
  "Understood. If you think you are ready to burn everything, stop using your power and step back."
  
  They each moved on a different side of the mass of tentacles which could have been the 'legs' of Poseidon's daughter.
  
  Perseus Jackson waited, perfectly immobile, orb of water in one hand and sword of Stygian Iron - certainly a gift from Hades - on the other.
  
  Drawing power was...difficult.
  
  It wasn't like she had difficulty remembering how to do it. It was simply that there was so little of it!
  
  Where before she had summoned a torrent by clicking her fingers, it took her a colossal amount of mental strength to force a few drops of answer to answer her will.
  
  "You're doing it, wrong, you know."
  
  "I know what I am doing!"
  
  "You're fighting your own power," the heterochromatic-eyed Demigod snorted. "You're so afraid of losing control that you're trying to chain the Seasons. It isn't going to work. The Seasons are not Marriage."
  
  "I don't want your advice and-"
  
  A blast of fire erupted from her hands, and struck the tentacles.
  
  Immediately, the things shrieked and tried to attack her...but Jackson cut them apart before they could do her harm.
  
  "This conversation is not over," the son of Poseidon proclaimed with a large smile. "But this is enough power for now. REND!"
  
  There was a horrible squelching sound, and dozens of tentacles were reduced into goo.
  
  The fire spread, but the madman didn't stop hacking.
  
  And damn it, he was fast.
  
  The black sword was a tornado of darkness. The blue-green things were maimed, cut, and then thrown into the bonfire, one she had stopped feeding, but which was now spreading on its own.
  
  "Enough," this was not English or any language known to her, but Hera understood the meaning. It hurt her ears to be sure.
  
  She turned her head, and sure enough, Charybdis didn't look like she was sleeping anymore.
  
  Her eyes were fully opened...and while Hera couldn't profess knowing the daughter of Poseidon well, she was certain that these red irisless eyes were not normal.
  
  "You have disturbed the preparations for this vessel." Something spoke through Charybdis' mouth, but it was certainly not the Goddess. "This flesh belongs to the Dreaming One. Begone, pathetic duo of planktons."
  
  Dreaming One? Oh, no. No! NO! They couldn't be that unlucky to be thrown against a Primordial! Not again!
  
  "You're wrong, you know." Perseus said conversationally, though his weapon was ready to resume the hacking at any moment. "You may serve the Primordial of Water, but this Goddess is hardly a perfect vessel. Otherwise you would have completed her transformation long ago."
  
  "There may have been a few setbacks," the thing snarled, "but the coronation will happen! It is inevitable!"
  
  "What is inevitable," and here Hera braced, for she had a clue or two something extremely insane is about to happen, "is your return to the crown. I WISH IT!"
  
  Many times, Hera had to admit, she had underestimated the mad Demigod. The former Queen of the Gods had a feeling she was less and less guilty of that the longer she stayed in the Suicide Squad, though. The more disastrous events you survived, the more it took to be impressed.
  
  But this time, she gaped as the equivalent of a giant paw of magic and darkness was summoned into existence. Claws plunged into Charybdis' chest, and after a few seconds of struggle, a vile thing of blue-green, an awful-looking parasite was extracted.
  
  "Miserable plankton," the thing wheezed, "you may deprive me of this flesh, but the power is now unstable! I was too strongly tied to it! You are now going to perish knowing true terror and-"
  
  The paw threw the parasite onto the crown, and the tantrum ended.
  
  The effect remained spectacular, though.
  
  In mere seconds, all the remaining tentacles vanished, and what stood to replace them was a beautiful-looking woman...except something immediately went wrong.
  
  The legs merged again and tried to become a claw, then a tail, then a pincer.
  
  Her eyes began to hurt. The power levels were rising.
  
  Sweat formed on her skin.
  
  The pressure of power was becoming intolerable and-
  
  "What is happening? NO! NO! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE! SOMEONE HELP ME! KILL! FLEE! DIE!"
  
  Charybdis screamed and Hera realised terrified that while the green eyes of Poseidon's line had returned, the Goddess wasn't able to perceive them.
  
  She had lost all control and-
  
  Suddenly, there was a black sword impaling Charybdis between her breasts.
  
  "I'm sorry," Perseus Jackson declared with a voice of steel. "But it looks like both your memories and your power are desynchronised."
  
  "KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL! LIVE! DEVOUR! SAVE! EAT! I WANT-"
  
  Power was channelled, and the daughter of the Seas went silent.
  
  "In a way, you're particularly lucky," Perseus Jackson declared as the Goddess tried to strangle him, only for her strength to fail, and her eyes to close as she collapsed on top of him. "You were born a Demigoddess, before being adopted by Amphitrite. So stripping you of the corruption will give you a second life."
  
  Hera heard a sigh.
  
  "Wish is always taking a lot of me, and I would have preferred to not have done twice in row. The things I do for family indeed..."
  
  There was a choir of madness, the impression of wrongness intensified for a few heartbeats...and then Hera saw the crown melt away into the algae and vanish from her sight.
  
  "But I am the Lord of the Suicide Squad!" The shadow of laughter returned, and once again the red-eyed Demigod had to make his demonic smile, though she couldn't be sure given that he only presented his back to her. "It is my Wish that everyone is to return to the seas sooner or later! Do you hear me, Kymopoleia? The oath has been fulfilled, and the price paid. The Seasons are owed they due, and so am I! Let the rest of the flow return to the seas, and the beast be condemned to the roll of extinct legends! ATLANTIS!"
  
  Power engulfed them, and her entire world became white.
  
  And then everything hurt.
  
  30 December 2006, Forge MP-42, Sea of Monsters
  
  Tethys was quite happy to be alone, for it would have done nothing to her reputation if everyone saw her giggling like a vapid mortal.
  
  Still, she continued to manifest her hilarity for long seconds.
  
  While some part of the situation was incredibly tragic, the rest was just too funny.
  
  "We have the young Mistress of Violent Storms, swimming away with her past and future mortal sister, believing that somehow she is sufficiently skilled to hide from my sight. You are not, child, but I will let you get away with it this time."
  
  This was going to bring more changes. Nobody would argue against that.
  
  "Then we have the core of the Beast guarding the Straights. It is hollow, and far away from its duties. Will something reform without the soul to feed its endless hunger, or will something else take its place?
  
  For several millennia now, mortals had believed in Charybdis and Scylla as the two coins of a deathly threat. It was going to be fascinating to see how the deeds done today would change belief on this world.
  
  "We have the Seasons growing in strength, yet remaining blind. You are in need of far more lessons than I believed, Hera."
  
  The temper of her daughter had always been her worst flaw. In fact, all her daughters shared it, though not to the same extent.
  
  "We have a battle not yet completed, with more blood to be spilled."
  
  Medusa and her two sisters had decided to reveal their true monstrous forms at last, and around the first ship which had tried to come to blows directly, the water was turning crimson red and surviving sea monsters had a very good meal at last.
  
  "And finally, we have you, Perseus Jackson. You are a Demigod who believes that the ink of the Book of Destiny can be altered to open a new Age of Heroes. But while you break the plans of the angry Crones, the true Powers of this reality remain beyond you. I am old and powerful, and you are not-"
  
  Something dark and nauseous assaulted her essence, and the Titaness of the Seas fought back immediately.
  
  It didn't take her long to recognise the threat.
  
  And once she did, there was only one order that could be given.
  
  "Isthmus. I am reassembling some parts of the Forge behind the inner walls. Take all my servants and the automatons you can, and flee."
  
  There was stupefaction, of course. But her commanders and her surviving armies obeyed.
  
  And it was good, for they stood no chance against the evil which had decided to invite itself here.
  
  "I was relieved when the Crown of the Deeps didn't choose Hera or Perseus Jackson," the Mistress of the Coral Palace spoke to herself. "But hope is the first step on the path of disaster."
  
  The two who had freed Charybdis from her incredibly long suffering had indeed been judged unworthy.
  
  But clearly someone participating in this battle could not say the same.
  
  There could be all sorts of alternative explanations, of course. But as she withdrew all her power from the outer walls and a majority of the Forge MP-42, Tethys felt she wouldn't gamble any Drachmas on it.
  
  The Forge of Hephaestus began to be twisted at a prodigious speed. Automatons were beginning to burn in blue-green light. Some walls were beginning to change, taking an oily black appearance, and their structure could be described from a mortal point of view as 'non-euclidean'.
  
  "The Crown of the Deeps aspires only to one thing and one thing only, Perseus Jackson. It wants its rightful Princess to lay it on her head of her own will. And as it didn't allow the currents to wash it on other shores, the evidence suggests it can find its Chosen here and now."
  
  The stakes of the game had dramatically changed. There was only one piece of good news: Pontus remained soundly asleep in his Forbidden City, whose name must never been uttered aloud.
  
  "Hurry, Demigods. End this battle and muster your strength. For before you will walk into my halls and challenge me, you will have to endure trials where you will be at risk to lose everything."
  
  30 December 2006, HPMS Jolly Roger, approaches of the Forge
  
  The first part of Perseus' improvised plan had worked. Drew and Moby Dick had indeed sunk the majority of the last enemy ships.
  
  And then it had all gone to hell, as usual.
  
  Bianca had warned the son of Poseidon it was certainly going to unravel quickly, and she had been right.
  
  As the Mecha-Whale had been finished an ironclad, the Gorgons had used it as an improvised boarding ramp to attack the Royal Fortune, and let the lack of coordination of Force S do the rest.
  
  Jade and Miranda had launched themselves to the rescue, but one had been thrown into the water in a colossal explosion, and the other had learned what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a mast used like a javelin.
  
  They were both going to survive, but they were out of the fight, obviously.
  
  And thus the daughter of Hades was alone when she stopped floating and set foot on the deck of the big wooden frigate.
  
  The air was suffocating under the smell of carnage and death.
  
  It was unsurprising when there was blood and human parts everywhere.
  
  The pirates of the Royal Fortune had fought with all they had.
  
  Their best hadn't been enough.
  
  The former Dread Empress was well aware that in her previous life, the heroes had called her a monster. She idly wondered what they would have called the Gorgons.
  
  "Sisters," a cruel hiss echoed in the cold breeze which had replaced the storm of Kymopoleia, "another mouse with delusions of grandeur is coming."
  
  "Mouse?" the daughter of Hades raised an eyebrow. "How unoriginal and simple. But then what could I expect from someone who thought it was a good idea to fornicate in the temple of her divine mother?"
  
  There were fierce hisses of anger and hatred, and the Gorgons slithered out of the hull where they had no doubt been busy massacring everything living.
  
  Bianca was aware there were some tales about the Gorgons being beautiful women minus the snakes replacing their hair.
  
  She was sorry to inform them it was all a lie. Or at least it was a lie when they didn't bother masquerading as humans.
  
  There were no legs. The three former human bodies all sprouted gigantic tails, which varied in shade from the grey to sickly yellow.
  
  Under where the navel should have been located, there was enormous insect thorax, and from it spikes, tentacles, and other ugly appendages were emerging.
  
  One might have hopes that was above that wouldn't be so bad. But it was. The hands had been replied by twisted poisoned claws, and all was it covered in mismatched scales. Oh, and the sisters all had four arms, not two.
  
  After that, the 'crown' of snakes upon their respective heads almost didn't register.
  
  If there was anything human left on them, it was the very expensive glasses they all had hiding their eyes. Well, that and the blood and the guts they were soaked into.
  
  The Gorgons had assuredly not fought cleanly, no matter what your definition of it was.
  
  "So the mouse has a big mouth," one of the Gorgons hissed. "We've heard of your lamentable choices and failures, oh Lightning Thief-"
  
  What was it with all these monsters and monologues? Bianca was definitely going to blame Perseus Jackson for that.
  
  "ARCHAIOS EXOUSIA!" The time for insults was over, it was time to fight.
  
  A Gorgon took the impact of the spell directly and collapsed.
  
  But the two others raced impossibly fast towards her, faster than monsters of that size should have.
  
  "FOS!"
  
  Some would have believed that with glasses, the Gorgons were going to be safe from blinding magical lights. These observers would have been wrong.
  
  Medusa and her sister shrieked in pain and fury as the magical spell scorched their scales and tore their ocular protections apart.
  
  Now! Now she had-
  
  The blades and the claws stabbed her from the right, and Bianca was suddenly very glad she had bathed into the waters of the Styx.
  
  As it was, the strength of the attack propelled her into the entrails of the ship.
  
  And a Gorgon arrived to finish the job.
  
  "KOLASMENES FOTIES!"
  
  And the audacious monster was forced to flee back into the darkness as the hell fire engulfed her.
  
  Bianca grunted in disappointment. She had summoned enough strength. The spell was not going to be the death of the Gorgon.
  
  Which was a pity, because at this moment, the daughter of Hades didn't care anymore about Jackson's orders. These damn snake bitches had made a mess of her sorceress robe; for that, she was going to throw them into the Pits of Tartarus even if it was the last thing she did today!
  
  Murmuring a levitation spell, the black-haired Demigoddess rose back until she floated above the deck.
  
  The eldest Gorgon was waiting for her, of course.
  
  With a notable difference.
  
  This time, with the glasses destroyed, there was nothing which prevented her from staring directly into Medusa's eyes. It would have been incredibly dangerous hours ago, but now? The Gorgon had indeed expended all her power dealing with Charybdis.
  
  And as such, there was nothing hiding the truth.
  
  For it wasn't the grey eyes of Athena's line she could see. Nor it was red eyes so often associated with curses.
  
  No, Medusa's eyes were snake-like...and shining with a malevolent golden light.
  
  "So Jackson was right," he was going to be insufferable, well, more insufferable than before, "you were Possessed by an Eidolon."
  
  To her regret, the daughter of Hades had to admit she didn't know much about these spirits.
  
  "Yes," the hiss was long and monstrous.
  
  And as it was a signal, the two other Gorgons slithered back, discarding what remained of their glasses, revealing near-identical golden irises and pupils.
  
  "We can save you!"
  
  Oh great, the daughter of Athena had followed her...
  
  The Gorgons erupted in mocking laughter.
  
  "Oh look at this one, sisters," Medusa hissed sarcastically, "another 'clever' half-sister."
  
  "Should we educate her?"
  
  "Oh yes, we shall, time for her to lose her innocence before we prove to her how we value family," it went without saying that there was no trace of affection or friendship in these merciless golden irises.
  
  "We were not Possessed by mistake, foolish sibling. We called the Eidolons and we allowed them to use our bodies."
  
  Obviously, Annabeth was looking horrified. Bianca, personally, felt only annoyance. That meant the worst-case scenario was very much active, and it was going to be even more of a pain dealing with them. It was a good thing she hadn't used Charmspeak so far; ordering the Eidolons to be banished from the bodies would do nothing good as the Possession was semi-voluntary.
  
  "Now it is the time to die, Demigods," Medusa said and an impossible long tongue of purple colour was revealed. "Once I will have finished with you, I will seek your leader and I will eat his guts. Using Charybdis like he did deserves a hellish punishment and-"
  
  A colossal explosion interrupted, and for a few seconds, the wreck of the Royal Fortune swayed like a God had struck it.
  
  Once she was no longer in danger of being thrown overboard, Bianca looked on the starboard side, and gasped.
  
  The stone-transformed tentacles of Charybdis were cracking and falling one by one into the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Enormous fissures and holes were running all over the surface of this monstrous body. The changed flesh was crumbling and turning up into black dust.
  
  "I can't believe it...he really did it."
  
  Charybdis had been powered by the essence of a divine, and the size of a small island to boot.
  
  And yet the evidence was impossible to refute.
  
  At an incredible pace, the destruction accelerated, until even the big worm-like body and hundreds of teeth fell into the dark waters.
  
  Roars of triumph began to be heard, as one of the most powerful and dangerous monsters sunk beneath the waves.
  
  "This doesn't change anything," Medusa hissed as the maw of what had been Charybdis slowly vanished from view. "I'm going to feast on your carcasses, tonight, and I will take great pleasure in it!"
  
  "Who is going to do what?"
  
  Bianca was rather sure the rectangular window of pure Night had not been here a second ago.
  
  And then it opened like a conventional door, in violation of most of the laws of magic she knew.
  
  The Lightning Thief groaned, for she already knew who was going to come out.
  
  "Sorry, I'm late, a black cat crossed my path and I remembered I had to prepare the tea for my favourite sisters!"
  
  One day, Bianca swore, she would strangle him very slowly...
  
  Perseus didn't need a report to know something had gone horribly wrong.
  
  The Royal Fortune had been supposed to be a ship of Force S, not a slaughterhouse.
  
  Yet all there was to be seen was an ungodly amount of butchery, and the architects of the massacre.
  
  This wasn't part of the plan at all.
  
  And to say it had worked when it came for Charybdis...for a certain definition of 'worked', that is.
  
  Some of his hypotheses had been correct. The golden eyes were there. But since Bianca di Angelo was not a fool and hadn't bothered using her Charmspeak, the conclusions he arrived to were all bad.
  
  "Look at that, sisters," the greatest monster of the three hissed. "Another hero. Do you think he's going to try to save us?"
  
  "No one told you to open your mouth, future scaly handbag," he retorted.
  
  "Excuse me?" Medusa snarled.
  
  "Are you deaf in addition to your awful looks?" the son of Poseidon insulted her vigorously. "I called you a future scaly handbag. And now that I think about it, your sisters will make nice pair of boots once I will have flayed you."
  
  Predictably, a storm of claws tried to eviscerate him.
  
  They missed.
  
  "Jade. You are a Champion of Ice snow, stop swimming and freeze me these Gorgons. NOW!"
  
  At last the Chosen of Khione re-entered the fight and trapped the snake-haired monsters into large ice structures.
  
  It wasn't going to kill them, of course, but it visibly weakened them.
  
  "Right. Now for the final."
  
  "What are you going to do?" Medusa hissed, her monstrous face truly a marvel of twisted humanity and cruelty. Clearly the eldest Gorgon had really faked her humanity well when she confronted the Romans some months ago. Most of what had been a High Priestess of Athena millennia ago had been burned by a lifetime of atrocities and devouring.
  
  In many ways, she and Charybdis were not so different than the others. The big difference was that one, upon realising the magnitude of her mistake, had tried to fight against the Crown's Curse. The other had revelled in her new monstrous status and added another Curse on top of it.
  
  "You are going to be mortal again." The former Tyrant declared. "Given how much I know you dislike the prospect of being vulnerable and human once more, it seems to me a fitting punishment."
  
  "You don't have that sort of power, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "You're right, I don't." He admitted. That was why he chose this moment to draw from one of his large pockets a medallion which provoked plenty of hateful hisses. "Oh, Goddess of Transformations done in the name of Love, I summon you. By the will of a mother's love, a curse must be ended. Heed my call, for I have built an artefact to prove my devotion to this cause."
  
  "Aphrodite will not dare challenging the Master of Olympus!"
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "Who says I was calling Aphrodite?"
  
  There was a blast of gold and purple energy, along with plenty of perfume to accompany it. On his left, the golden sarcophagus he had stored in the secret compartment of the Inevitable Doom materialised.
  
  And as the smoke cleared, a rather seductive back-haired woman was standing here with only a transparent gown which didn't hide at all her body underneath.
  
  "Welcome, Neo Isis! I thank you deeply for answering my call."
  
  "Perseus Jackson," the former Egyptian Queen didn't hiss like a proper snake, but she wasn't far from it. "What did you do?"
  
  "I have summoned you." He shrugged with a modest tone. "You proclaimed yourself Goddess of Transformations done in the name of Love, didn't you?"
  
  "How in the name of Osiris do you know that?" Cleopatra asked aghast.
  
  "I know it because it is my duty to know as many dirty secrets as I can. One might even say it is my destiny!"
  
  And the worst part was that he was completely honest, here.
  
  "This affair began with love, and so it must end with love. There are several parts here. One is the formerly mortal body. There are the Snake and the Stone Curses. And there are the Eidolons. Athena is owed the mortal shells and the souls. The Eidolons must be banished, never to Possess these Demigoddesses again. And the Stone Curse will be imprisoned in the sarcophagus. But if you desire it, the Snake Curse is to be yours, as payment for your services."
  
  Perseus could see 'Neo Isis' tried to resist it, of course.
  
  She believed he was her enemy, and to be honest, she wasn't wrong at all to consider him as a foe.
  
  But it wasn't Cleopatra VII Philopator who was standing on this bridge covered in severed organs and human corpses.
  
  It was Neo Isis.
  
  There was no divine form, but she was close to her Apotheosis.
  
  And he had respected the rules. He had called her using one of the Domains she had forged for herself, and proposed a fair bargain.
  
  There was no lie when it came to his intentions.
  
  A Demigod would have told him to go screw himself and probably tried to ally with the Gorgons.
  
  But Neo Isis couldn't.
  
  Her eyes shone in purple and golden light, and her appearance changed to include a sceptre and a far more dignified golden gown of silk.
  
  "The bargain is accepted, Perseus Jackson."
  
  The Gorgons in the next seconds uttered a lot of insults.
  
  It was in vain.
  
  Bianca conjured a storm of magic to activate the sarcophagus, while at the same time, he and Jade kept the 'ice jail' of the Gorgons as solid they honestly could.
  
  "Close your eyes!"
  
  It was like a thousand trumpets tolled at once, and a sea of golden light swallowed them.
  
  When Perseus reopened them, the sarcophagus lid shut down in a thunderous clattering.
  
  The Gorgons...the Gorgons were gone.
  
  What had taken the place of the monsters were three women.
  
  They were relatively young, not older than twenty or twenty-two? And they were black-haired and grey-eyed...the same piercing grey eyes which could be observed when a three metres-tall woman in hoplite armour materialised and grabbed them effortlessly, before vanishing as fast she had appeared.
  
  And then there was the Second Caesarea of the Triumvirate...who was glaring at him like he had murdered someone dear to him.
  
  "I don't know what you hope to achieve here, Perseus Jackson, but-"
  
  He threw her the amulet of Isis he had used for the call, and Neo Isis vanished in another flash of purple-golden light.
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  The son of Poseidon raised his head, and gave a sardonic grin to the trembling spectres which looked like they were made of some cursed smoke.
  
  "You should have stopped your Possession when my lieutenants asked you to!" The commanding officer of the Suicide Squad said cheerfully.
  
  "This is not over!" the three spirits snarled as one.
  
  "It never is." The black-haired Demigod agreed. "Now remove yourselves from my Quest and my war."
  
  "No, you will pay for depriving us of our Gorgon partners! Do you know how difficult it is to find women of such lineage and possessing so much hatred for the Gods?"
  
  "No," Perseus stuck his tongue out. "And I don't really care. Now be good Eidolons and-"
  
  "We will wait for you into the Forge, and we will deprive you of your partners, much like you ritually changed ours!"
  
  There was a massive gust of wind, and the Eidolons disappeared.
  
  Perseus grimaced. Some deity had clearly helped the spirits to escape, while he would normally have been able to disintegrate them with his voice alone.
  
  That was...not good.
  
  "We have won the battle," Bianca spoke, confirming his dark thoughts, "but I think we have exchanged the problems we were aware of for other threats."
  
  "I feel the same. But we have no choice but to advance. The God of the Forges must be freed, no matter the cost."
  
  30 December 2006, HPMS Inevitable Doom, Sea of Monsters
  
  Dakota couldn't hide his relief when the sarcophagus was teleported away. Yes, it was sent to his father as an offering, so what?
  
  It was out of sight, and it wasn't the Suicide Squad's problem anymore.
  
  The object had been almost innocent when he saw it the first time, but now that it contained part of the 'Medusa Curse', it had changed to something sinister and evil-looking, and a dreadful aura had been shrouding it.
  
  It was best to get rid of it as fast as possible, in his opinion, and to his pleasant surprise, Jackson had agreed.
  
  Of course, now that the sarcophagus was no longer a factor, there was nothing that could distract him from watching the island they were sailing towards.
  
  The son of Bacchus wished he could say it was Forge MP-42, but it wasn't the forge of Lord Hephaestus anymore.
  
  Before, there had been strong and colossal walls rising over the Sea of Monsters. The drones had shown them a daunting picture of multiple layers of defences and no amount of space to make an amphibious landing. From the outskirts to its heart, Forge MP-42 had been a succession of old and modern weapon batteries, fortified to the extreme, and manned by tens of thousands of automatons and servants of the Titaness.
  
  The island they were approaching was nothing like that.
  
  There were some structures left of the Olympian Forge, but they were dispersed all over the island he could see.
  
  The furnaces and the walls didn't dominate the landscape anymore.
  
  They were immense black structures of twisted pyramids, improbably-inclined towers, and other improbable forms of construction for that. The edifices were so vast they seemed to be imagined to assault the sky.
  
  Dakota wished he could his eyes were playing tricks upon him. Clearly, nothing so monumental could appear so suddenly on an island, Zone Mortalis or not. These were the kind of structures which would require decades of labour, maybe hundreds of years.
  
  And the beach of blue-green sand in front of them raised worse questions, for all its lack of indomitability. Where had the outer walls gone? Thousands of automatons had built them per the Titaness' orders, they weren't things you could make disappear just by wishing it very hard.
  
  Dakota shivered, and it wasn't because of the cold; he had donned his X-Suit exactly to prevent that.
  
  "Jackson?"
  
  "Yes, my drunken lieutenant?"
  
  Naturally, their leader had somehow replaced his orange tricorn by a black straw-hat twice the size of his previous headgear.
  
  "Is it a hallucination?"
  
  "No, I'm afraid it isn't."
  
  Let it be said it wasn't reassuring. At all.
  
  "How bad is it?"
  
  "Let's see the positive side: it isn't going to be difficult to seize a beachhead. Whereas this would have been a massive headache if we were directly facing the Titaness."
  
  When Perseus Jackson told you to see the positive side, it was because the negative points were really awful and life-threatening.
  
  "Do we have a chance?"
  
  "I believe so, yes." The son of Poseidon frowned as he looked at the transformed island. "The cursed artefact, which I'm willing to call the Cursed Crown, decided to reappear on this island once I broke the curse-bond which chained it to Charybdis. It is sentient somewhat. But it does not care about me or Hera."
  
  "Because you faced it and it let you go?" Dakota sipped some wine to calm his nerves. "Wait a minute, what if it's after me-"
  
  "It's not, my drunken lieutenant." Perseus snorted.
  
  "How are you so sure? You more or less admitted that-"
  
  "You are not a girl."
  
  "Oh," Dakota coughed in embarrassment. "Yeah, I suppose I am not."
  
  "Glad to see I didn't fail to notice something that important," the mad Demigod snickered, making him blush.
  
  "As I was saying," Perseus said after a second snort, "this Cursed Crown is likely going to target women and girls of a certain lineage. This is why I feel Chrysaor was able to move it millennia ago and remain more or less sane but tainted, when a mere touch was enough to damn Charybdis."
  
  "That makes sense, yes."
  
  "It does. Unfortunately, logic dictates the Cursed Crown wouldn't have moved to the island if the sentience inhabiting it didn't think it had a chance of finding a new 'Chosen One' to touch it."
  
  "A new Charybdis?"
  
  "Or something worse," Jackson grunted to his dismay. "For all her strength, Charybdis was unable and unwilling to synchronize properly with the Crown."
  
  Dakota stayed silent for a few seconds.
  
  "Are you implying that this mountain-sized monster you managed to turn up into broken stone and remove from the battlefield was an imperfect tool for this artefact of damnation?"
  
  "Yes," Perseus said quietly. "It is exactly what I implied."
  
  The child of the Earthshaker turned around and went to face all the rest of the members of the Suicide Squad, who had mustered close to the stern of the super-mega yacht.
  
  Dakota didn't miss that among them, there was one who had considerably changed. Hera - for it was difficult to call her Antigone right now - had grown a foot taller, and every time he looked at her, her hair appeared to change colours: from pure white to golden yellow, and from crimson red to shadowy ebony. A large bow was also strapped to her back, and there was a long lance in her right hand.
  
  "I trust all of you have seen the fog rising in the distance." Perseus did not make it a question. "It is clearly a magical phenomenon which will keep friendly and enemy reinforcements unable to find this island for as long as it is active. On the other hand, Bianca confirmed to me any party wishing to flee through it will certainly suffer a lot from several curses for the rest of his or her life. Said life-expectancy will be measured in minutes, of course."
  
  "Right, boss," Rico the Penguin clapped his fins, making everyone very aware that he carried more explosive ammunition than all Demigods next to him. "Give us the bad news, I want to give our enemies a taste of Kaboom."
  
  "The bad news," Jackson obliged his maniacal penguin, "is that there is a Cursed Crown on this island, and it appears to be able to change the island to its whims, and inflict potent curses wherever it exerts its corrupting influence. For the love of the Gods, don't touch it, and stay away from it as far as possible. If you disobey, I think you will have the rest of eternity to regret it."
  
  "I suppose we aren't going to complain about a shortage of enemies either," Richard Grant crossed his muscular arms in front of him.
  
  "Not really, my muscular lieutenant. The cursed artefact changed the structure of the island, it didn't remove the existing opposition. There are already at least thirty thousand automatons spread over this island, and all are equipped with dangerous weapons. That's why for the first time, I insist you equip yourselves with armour over your X-Suits. And take shields with you, magical and technological. They aren't likely going to endure for long, but every projectile they intercept is one that won't make you bleed to death."
  
  "The goal?" Kimiko the Huntress asked, recognisable for the long blue tail she tried to hide unsuccessfully.
  
  "The goal hasn't changed." Perseus assured her. "While the influence of the Titaness has withdrawn towards the heart of the island, she is still there, observing us, waiting for our party to come and free her illustrious prisoner. Therefore I see no need to be subtle. We will move as a single, overwhelming force and crush everything that stands in our way."
  
  "Why not send the other Legionnaires and the pirates in different groups?" Miranda asked peevishly, her hair looking like they were sand incarnate, which was certainly not far from the truth.
  
  "Because there are three Eidolons on this island, and their only weakness is Charmspeak." The red eye of Perseus, on this grey day, looked tired and grim. "If we divide our forces, you can bet these spirits are going to pounce and Possess the most vulnerable members of a group, before convincing the gullible souls to wage war against each other. I suspect certain pirates and Legionnaires wouldn't need a lot of encouragement to begin the massacre."
  
  "And the ships?" Ethan voiced. "If you don't trust them to not stab us in the back-"
  
  "I don't trust them to not try to steal the Inevitable Doom, no." Perseus acknowledged. "But my magnificent Super-Mega Yacht has several esoteric protections provided by Cyclopes and other loyal associates. And Asterius is going to stay here to watch on Lou Ellen. She hasn't yet fully recovered from the spatial-distortion spell which was used to bring Charybdis here."
  
  A spell, Dakota mused internally, which had probably been taught to her by Circe.
  
  No wonder Perseus wanted to attack C.C's Spa at all costs before coming here...
  
  "Now go prepare yourselves. There are only a few hours of daylight left, and there are harsh battles ahead."
  
  30 December 2006, the Beach of the Forge of the Ancients
  
  Operation Titanomachy, from the very start, had been planned with the principle they were going to take crippling losses.
  
  The sheer danger represented by the fleet assembled by the Titaness, the walls and the batteries of Forge MP-42, and many other things like sea snakes and first-class monsters was a very long list of reasons why.
  
  Ethan knew it, because he had been involved in said planning.
  
  Per the most optimistic scenarios, they would have lost ten or eleven ships into the attempt.
  
  Thus the son of Nemesis was honest enough to say that no, they had never expected to lose so few ships in the first phase of the battle.
  
  By all rights, they should have been decimated.
  
  The fact that they weren't could be explained by good luck.
  
  Or things were about to go to hell quickly in a few minutes. Again.
  
  They had lost five ships with all hands so far. The Etna had detonated courtesy of a missile salvo. The Light of the Orient had been annihilated by torpedoes or missiles, he wasn't sure which. The Ranger had disappeared into the storm, probably due to less-than-adequate navigation or a sea snake. The Burning Dragon was swallowed by Charybdis. And the crew of the Royal Fortune had been butchered to the last man by the Gorgons.
  
  At first sight, the point they had not taken insanely crippling casualties could be considered a good thing.
  
  And it would be, if for a single second Ethan Nakamura thought the majority of the survivors were to be trusted to honour their oaths.
  
  Here they were, mustered on this dark beach of blue-green sands, ready for war.
  
  Two hundred and twelve Legionnaires. One thousand and one hundred six Pirates. And the Suicide Squad to lead them.
  
  The two larger groups couldn't have been more different if they had tried.
  
  The last Demigods and Legacies of the Cohorts sent to the Sea Monsters had, for all their internal problems, deployed with impeccable discipline, and their formation was three lines-deep. Their anti-cold cloaks were crimson and all standardised, like the rest of their equipment.
  
  By contrast, the Pirates, far more numerous, looked like a mob. There were certainly a colourful bunch; each man who had flocked to serve under Blackbeard's black flag had his own style and his own preferences when it came to muskets, pistols, sabres, and other weapons. Plenty had donned furs to protect themselves from the cold, giving to some a Viking-like appearance.
  
  But there was no order, no coherent formation, and evidently, there was no discipline.
  
  When they broke, and Ethan was sadly sure it was a when, not an if, it was going to be a nightmare to salvage something from the disaster.
  
  Assuming they wanted to salvage something, that is.
  
  Blackbeard could smile all he wanted, Ethan trusted the son of Ares as far he could throw him, and it was not very far.
  
  Of course, both Legionnaires and Pirates had a point in common: they were preparing their treacheries under pleasant masks. Half of the Legionnaires may be reliable, and those were the troops of Tribune Erica Keller...maybe. The rest? Octavian MacArthur had without doubt been seduced by promises of Olympus or other inimical parties. They would betray. And then as a son of Nemesis, Ethan would punish them for it.
  
  It should have already begun, honestly. The Suicide Squad was too small to really control them and really behave like the sort of power which guaranteed that no rebellion could succeed. Hey didn't have slave collars to control the pirates, or enchantments to transform the Legionnaires.
  
  That there existed some semblance of order so far was near-miraculous by all rights.
  
  And the Demigod smiling maniacally to his audience was the architect of this miracle.
  
  "My friends, I have good news! Lend me your ears!"
  
  It went without saying that many Pirates didn't stop their conversations. And several Legionnaires chuckled and whispered very interesting things when they believed no one could try to listen to them.
  
  The poor fools.
  
  "SILENCE, OR I WILL CRUCIFY TEN OF YOU TO WARM UP THIS BEACH!"
  
  It was like the sound button had been switched off instantly.
  
  The expression the pirates had the 'pleasure' to 'enjoy' was one of utter madness. The green eye had been closed, and the red eye was shining like a ruby of damnation.
  
  "Thank you, my friends," the Lord of the Suicide Squad grinned largely, "now fortunately for you, I am willing to temporarily forget your rudeness. I have good news, you see. Thanks to my sorceress lieutenant conducting a small blood ritual, we have confirmed the location of the captive God we must free. And lo and behold, the path to take is going to lead us in the middle of plenty of weapon-production facilities, smith sanctuaries, and other great arsenals! The possibilities of using this bounty against the enemies we will face today are truly endless!"
  
  There were plenty of excited whispers from every direction.
  
  "However," Perseus Jackson coldly smiled with the pleasantness one could expect from a shark going to bite his dinner, "I find myself dissatisfied. Many of your friends thought it a good idea to remain on their ships, thinking I wouldn't notice it."
  
  The black-haired Demigod bared his teeth.
  
  "I noticed. And if you think staying on an unprotected ship far away from any major military support is a good idea, I generously advise you to reconsider. Captain Ramius and his men will protect the Red October and the Inevitable Doom while we're ashore; the rest of the ships will be intact when we will return...but I can't promise the same thing for the living inside."
  
  There were plenty of hesitating and unsubtle looks of Legionnaires and Pirates towards their figures of authority.
  
  But after a couple of minutes, it was clear no one aboard the ships would charge to join the expedition.
  
  "Let it not be said that I hadn't warned you, my friends. Very well! Ethan, we move in Formation Delta-One! The Suicide Squad takes the vanguard! The rest of you follow in a tight formation! And for the love of the Gods, don't try to go your own way in this maze! United we stand strong, divided we fall!"
  
  It would have been a more reassuring speech, Ethan knew, if he didn't feel like standing in front of a very cold and dark hungry maw ready to swallow them all.
  
  Charybdis was gone, but the artefact which had created her was very much alive.
  
  And it was waiting for them.
  
  "Why are we supposed to believe you still have the favour of the Gods?" The shout had come from the ranks of the pirates, generating plenty of inquisitive murmurs.
  
  Perseus didn't even blink.
  
  "Oh Father, hear my prayers. They doubt I am your favourite Demigod."
  
  The earth shook violently.
  
  The Sea of Monsters growled.
  
  And then an enormous wave washed ashore, pouring water over many, many pirates.
  
  And when the water withdrew, the son of Poseidon had the equivalent of a golden standard similar to the ones used by the aquilifer of the Roman Legions.
  
  Except there was no golden aquila, the legendary eagle of Imperial Rome, on top of this standard.
  
  Instead, there was a silver dolphin.
  
  "Has someone other unreasonable questions before I begin to lose my patience?" Jackson grinned.
  
  30 December 2006, the Forge of the Ancients
  
  Any other time, walking away from this unnatural beach would have been the problem Erica would focus all her attention upon.
  
  This island felt wrong, after all.
  
  Setting aside the colossal stupidity of letting a sizeable force land on a beach without any opposition whatsoever, there were no sounds of birds or any other animals that Force S's members hadn't brought with them.
  
  A silence of death reigned here, and the black towers and other structures waited, colossal, towering over them and releasing a sensation of sheer oppression.
  
  There were no enemies in sight, but everyone with a small amount of common sense knew they were not far.
  
  Unfortunately, all of that was rather taking second place in her order of priorities, because of the infernal cacophony Perseus Jackson was making playing with a trumpet!
  
  "Beloved Jupiter," the daughter of Sol heard Michael Kahale moan behind her, "please make him stop!"
  
  "Seriously, it's like someone is torturing a Siren!"
  
  "This is the musical equivalent of skunk smell!"
  
  "How is it possible to be so untalented with an instrument?"
  
  The noise...the horrible sounds...Erica really struggled to find the adequate words. It may be that strangling one giant eagle and adding a series of disharmonious violins and pianos would do the trick.
  
  Maybe.
  
  No, even that couldn't be truly compared to the nightmare and the sheer sonorous assault violating their ears.
  
  "ENOUGH!"
  
  She screamed and she wasn't the only one.
  
  A few seconds later, the female Tribune sighed in relief as the musical torture stopped. Three more seconds, and she acknowledged the cacophony was stopped because Leo-something, son of Hephaestus, had melted the trumpet using by half-melting it...somehow.
  
  "Amigo, that wasn't very nice!" the worst musician of the Seven Seas complained. "I have no spare trumpet!"
  
  "And thank the Gods for that," Erica whispered.
  
  "You wouldn't have dared doing that here if Lou Ellen was present," the Lightning Thief remarked with an evil grin.
  
  "Everyone is a critic these days," the son of Poseidon shook his head in a picture of offended nobility that gave you the urge to strangle him with your bare hands. "Anyway. Now that this musical interlude is over-"
  
  "This torture, you mean," Elvis Knight grumbled.
  
  "This musical interlude," the mad Demigod insisted while baring his teeth, "we are finally on the doorstep of the enemy."
  
  This was assuredly true, not that it was an enormous surprise.
  
  All Legionnaires and the other participants had seen the gigantic black gate the moment they had left their ships.
  
  It wasn't like they could miss unless they were blind.
  
  It was a door of black metal, but one which must have been conceived for Titans and Gods, for it was about twelve or thirteen metres-tall.
  
  And if the walls next to it were any indication, the dark gate would be several metres thick. It felt so solid that even a salvo of missiles would struggle to seriously damage it.
  
  "Grant, with me. Miranda, you are in support. Prepare yourself."
  
  Erica at first didn't understand.
  
  What were these two going to do?
  
  They couldn't plant explosives they had brought with them. Dynamite or any kind of explosives in their stores would never be enough to create a breach.
  
  She heard Octavian MacArthur speaking.
  
  "No...no, they can't think that pushing is going to open the Gates?"
  
  But before thousands of eyes, the son of Hercules and the son of Poseidon did prove that not only they thought it had a good chance of working, they were going to put it into practise.
  
  It should have felt comical.
  
  Two tiny Demigods were touching the dark and indomitable Gate. They were insignificant by size and valour. Just behind them, sand swirled as a Demigoddess guarded their back.
  
  For several seconds, nothing happened.
  
  And then Jackson and Grant went into action.
  
  They really began to push, each on one side of the Dark Gate.
  
  For a few seconds, nothing happened.
  
  And then there was a grinding sound.
  
  A cold wind blew, which made all the Legionnaires shiver.
  
  Impossibly, centimetre after centimetre, the Dark Gate began to open.
  
  There was an opening in front of them, and it grew wider by the second.
  
  It wasn't skill at all. It wasn't the fame engineering prowess of the Legions.
  
  It was just a colossal amount of strength, done at the proper place and time.
  
  Of course, as the opening became larger enough to let a man pass, Erica saw what was waiting behind.
  
  They waited for them immobile, in neat and tightly-packed ranks.
  
  There were thousands of them.
  
  They were the hoplite automatons of the Forge, built for war.
  
  There were a mass of bronze and something darker, and they had a stupendous amount of weapons; it was easily several phalanxes-type formations assembled on this relatively small battlefield.
  
  "Miranda," she heard the son of Poseidon grunt. "Focus on the head and heart mechanisms."
  
  As soon as his words faded, cascades of sand were unleashed.
  
  Unlike the grains of the beach, this one was not blue-green, but shades of gold and onyx mixed together.
  
  But it felt like an entire dune was striking at once.
  
  By the time their vanguard reached Jackson, the battlefield became clearer.
  
  Not a single automaton remained standing.
  
  All of the hoplite artificial soldiers had been disabled.
  
  All of them. Not a single one had been able to fire effectively.
  
  "Good work," she heard the black-haired Demigod compliment his lieutenant. Then he drew a sword of Celestial Bronze from its scabbard. "Now it's time to begin the really fun part of our mission."
  
  30 December 2006, Tau Assembly Line, once part of Forge MP-42, Forge of the Ancients
  
  Leo was feeling really conflicted right now. Yeah, the hall they had entered was a paradise of machinery and tinkering. There was a big line of production of automatons, and every part to build them you could dream of! There were tanks and wonderful things! There were guns and anvils! There were rifles and horseshoes! The young Demigod was sure he could build a Mecha-Whale or a Mecha-Dragon here!
  
  And the pirates were busy looting it, disrespecting the efforts of his father.
  
  It made him extremely uncomfortable.
  
  Leo wasn't a thief, and he wasn't a raider or a pirate.
  
  Taking all the weapons and the precious mechanical parts marked them definitely as robbers.
  
  "Jackson?"
  
  "Yes, Amigo?" The son of Poseidon was inspecting the Greek scripts carved into the walls.
  
  "Err...aren't we going to have problems?"
  
  "The influence of the Cursed Crown in this atelier is incredibly low, I assure you. And the parts aren't cursed."
  
  "I was rather more asking if my father wasn't going to be very angry the pirates and everyone are looting."
  
  "I think he will close his eyes on the matter, don't worry." Perseus smirked before breathing out. "This is a Tau-type Assembly Line, Leo. The stuff here is above the technological level most Demigods can enjoy, but it remains sub-par for Olympus and the immortal armies of the Gods. I'm almost certain your father has over a thousand places like those all over the world."
  
  "Oh..." Leo looked around with an uncertain expression. "So the 'multi-toll gloves' Luke is testing?"
  
  "I know the Amazons are proposing more advanced models on their website." Perseus answered with a chuckle. "The same is true for the Ghost Armour, of course."
  
  "The big hammer Ethan took?"
  
  "The Hammer of Retribution? I think there were several Cyclopes who tried to propose to me better alternatives before I embarked on the first Great Quest. This is a rather fascinating piece of technology, by the way. It is a weapon you can't use to deal a first blow against an enemy, but if your opponent tries to kill you, it will bolster your arm and deal twice the amount of damage you could have done with a more conventional weapon. Oh, and it uses some dark magical effect. The drawback is, it needs blood to repair itself when it is damaged."
  
  There was a lot of explosions, and in the distance, some automatons which had rushed in were disintegrated by-
  
  "Is it a giant walker?" Leo asked bewildered.
  
  "Giant might be a bit of an exaggeration," the other Demigod corrected. "It is a hybrid machine that can transform between a walking robot and an aircraft. Users have taken to call it the Viking, for a reason I ignore. I see Elvis Knight has found one to his taste...and now my devilish penguin lieutenants are trying to take one for themselves, of course."
  
  "Can't you try to stop them?" Rico and Skipper were already dangerous enough when they only had small explosives and guns, now that they would drive that, their potential of destruction was really going to be worrying.
  
  "Everyone deserves to have its fun," Jackson slammed the wall...and a large hidden door opened, making Leo jump in surprise. "Follow me."
  
  The hirsute-haired Demigod obeyed, and instantly he felt far better. While the entire island registered as cold and wet, with every step here, Leo felt better and better.
  
  He stayed prudent, though. Perseus was deactivating traps right and left like it was no big deal, but there were enormous saws, blades and sharp-ended tools.
  
  The large flames raging in the room at the end of the tunnel still brought him a large smile.
  
  And at the centre of it, above a large fire, there was a-
  
  "Is it a heart?"
  
  "A mechanical one, yes," Perseus spoke neutrally, with no grin on his face. "Note the magnificent work; your father is truly a genius. If it wasn't here, I think we could be fooled into thinking it is a real human heart which is somehow still beating. I believe that some of your brothers who had the pleasure to use one called theirs 'Heart of the Forge'."
  
  "Oh," Leo nodded several times before realising he had to look very stupid doing so. "And what does it do?"
  
  "When a son of Hephaestus uses one, it increases the capacity of the Demigod to handle his or her pyrokinesist abilities. The Heart of the Forge regulates both your flames and your 'internal fire', so to speak. You will avoid all overheating, and slowly but surely, you will be able to unleash warmer and warmer flames, until you can become a human torch while remaining completely safe."
  
  "Awesome!" Leo exclaimed. "How does one use it? It doesn't look like there is anything to strap it to my chest-"
  
  "Leo." Jackson looked at him like he was a moron.
  
  "Or I am supposed to use it as a backpack?"
  
  The sigh told him it was the wrong answer.
  
  "At least you didn't propose to eat it, let us thank Vulcan for small favours," the Master of the Inevitable Doom snorted. "When I said it was a heart, Leo, this wasn't a joke."
  
  The words felt like a slap. Perseus Jackson was joking, right?
  
  He wasn't laughing or joking.
  
  This was bad.
  
  Leo took several steps back.
  
  "I have to replace my heart?"
  
  "If you don't want to end up very roasted by your own flames or come near death and water jets at every adventure, yes."
  
  "I am not going to let you open my chest!" the young Demigod screamed.
  
  "Stop being so dramatic, Amigo," Jackson opened a small bronze container, which immediately expanded by several times, and revealed extremely fine machinery. The 'Heart of the Forge' was placed delicately inside a few seconds later. "I am not a Healer, and I am completely unqualified for surgery. This requires the work of a professional, and certainly divine assistance as well. The only being on this island who can probably do it safely is your father. If he doesn't do it, we will certainly need to return to New Byzantium before having this conversation again. Seriously, Amigo. I am crazy, but I am not going to carve up your chest and play up with your internal organs for fun."
  
  "I... I apologise."
  
  "You're forgiven, Amigo! Now, reprogram me these two Colchisian Bulls, they will make superb auxiliaries for the next battles we have to come! I have-"
  
  The smirking Demigod suddenly didn't smirk at all as the ground disappeared under his feet, and only an impressive jump prevented him from falling into the growing hole.
  
  "Cool! You found another secret compartment."
  
  Leo threw a sparkle of fire below, and damn, there were large stairs, and what was-
  
  This looked like an enormous armoured door of gold and fire.
  
  "No, Leo, I think I found a Vault. Please go find Luke, I may have need of his services again."
  
  30 December 2006, the Vault Eta-Beta-Four, once part of Forge MP-42
  
  Luke Castellan couldn't help but be disappointed that it took only a fake key and three metal spindles to open this hyper-sophisticated Vault.
  
  "Jackson, you told me to expect a challenge, but most of the protections were already unlocked!" The son of Hermes loudly complained.
  
  "Castellan, be serious for once."
  
  "I am serious."
  
  The blonde Demigod turned to face the leader of the Suicide Squad. And immediately, he stopped smiling, because Perseus' face harbouring a genuine frown.
  
  "Maybe the Smith God didn't have time to properly lock it when the Titaness came around and imprisoned him?"
  
  "Luke, I had to deactivate all the traps leading to the Heart of the Forge to begin with."
  
  "Ah," the son of Hermes grimaced. "I really don't know where it is going. Do you happen to know what could be hidden inside?"
  
  "I don't," the green-and-red-eyed Demigod replied. "But since something like a Heart of the Forge for children of Hephaestus was used to camouflage its existence, I think that it was really important for our imprisoned host."
  
  "Great," Luke muttered. "Shall I?"
  
  "By all means."
  
  Luke pressed the button marked with an 'Eta' glyph.
  
  To his relief, no lethal trap was activated, and the Vault door opened with not a sound, which was an impressive piece of magic by itself, as the tons of metal had to weigh more than an elephant.
  
  The heroic thief was expecting something dramatic, but it seemed the vault was mostly empty, and had always been that way. There was only a sort of jewellery display and-
  
  "Wait," Perseus' voice stopped him. "Do you sense that?"
  
  Luke focused and indeed there was a sensation which troubled him. It was as if there was something whispering, something which felt his heart faster, and yet at the same time he knew this was a darkness which would do harm to him given the chance.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Nocturna was here." The leader of the Suicide Squad muttered.
  
  "What? How do you recognise it?"
  
  "Believe me when you've tasted the magic of her transformation ritual, it is difficult to forget." The son of Poseidon drew a little packet from his right pocket and dispersed the entirety of powder it contained. Immediately, the Vault room was saturated with what looked like black dust. "Yes, Nocturna definitely came here, all right. And for me to notice it and the powder to have that kind of effect, she was here between forty-eight and seventy-two hours ago."
  
  "She knew we were coming," Luke shook his head in disbelief. "But how?"
  
  "My dear heroic lieutenant, we weren't exactly discreet."
  
  "You weren't discreet you mean," Luke corrected with a smile.
  
  "I am the very definition of subtlety and sneaky tactics, my heroic lieutenant." The younger Demigod proclaimed grandiosely. "And jokes aside, even if the Sire of Drakons didn't have any divine precognition ability, figuring out we would come here sooner or later does not require much foresight. The moment I went to Ogygia, the Sire would have realised the assault on Forge MP-42 was imminent."
  
  "Okay, I can understand that. But why Nocturna? And for which goal?"
  
  "For the first question, I presume because she is very good hiding in the shadows...not to mention incredibly fast. The Titaness may not have noticed her presence. As for the second question..." the black-haired Demigod advanced until he reached the jewellery display. "There is an empty slot here between the jewels. Based on the contour it made on the support, I think it was a key."
  
  Luke quickly joined him, and yes, Perseus was right. There had been a key there.
  
  "The jewels are miniature bombs," the thief said after a couple of seconds. "There were supposed to detonate if you tried to move the Key."
  
  "And clearly, it didn't work."
  
  "No, it didn't." Luke admitted. "Any idea what kind of key a treacherous Demigoddess turned batwoman, to use one of your charming expressions, would be interested in?"
  
  "I haven't the faintest idea, Luke." This time, the son of Hermes really believed him.
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "I am going to help Leo move the two Colchisian Bulls, they can serve as an effective destructive scouting party. The Pirates and the Legionnaires should have finished looting everything now, and it's not like we can afford to stay several hours here in the hope we will be able to decipher why the hell Nocturna took the risk of coming here."
  
  "I have no objection. But I also know deep in my guts that whatever our winged traitor did, we are not going to like the consequences at the end of the road."
  
  It was a prediction that, unfortunately, would be absolutely verified. And 'like' was an understatement. Plenty of beings, from the Olympians to the Suicide Squad would hate the chaos it was about to generate.
  
  30 December 2006, the Endless Stairs, Forge of the Ancients
  
  The moment they left the Tau Assembly Line behind them, they were in the thick of the fighting again, and it never ended.
  
  The Suicide Squad and its auxiliaries - though Perseus knew the Pirates and the Legionnaires would hate the term, of course - had looted considerable quantities of ammunition in the last hour.
  
  It was put for good use now.
  
  From pilums exploding with the violence of artillery shells to giant walkers armed with flamethrowers, the destruction was really splendid.
  
  Waves after waves of automatons, be they in the forms of hoplites or miniature dragons, were annihilated for negligible losses in return.
  
  And yes, by negligible losses, it really meant 'very low'. Since they had landed on this island, the Pirates had been the only one to suffer true casualties, and it was limited to one dead and four serious wounded.
  
  Any other time, the former Tyrant would have been happy.
  
  Unfortunately, there were three problems with this situation.
  
  The first was that, while the sheer amount of firepower bolstered morale and made sure they could disintegrate thousands of automatons with every minute, the supply of ammunition wasn't infinite.
  
  Machine guns, special sniping rifles, grenade launchers and more engines of destruction all required the appropriate bullets and other types of projectiles. They weren't arrows or rocks.
  
  The second problem was that the bolstering of morale, as welcome as it had been, had given unpleasant ideas to the 'auxiliaries'. Perseus understood their reasoning, he truly did. Really, if they could fight their way through these waves of enemies, why did they need the Suicide Squad at all?
  
  And the third problem was the corruption shown by the automatons. Before, 'normal' automatons had shown relatively little corruption. Now? The Hephaestus-made robots were looking distinctively wrong. Many had begun to grow scales. Some looked like they had been bathed in blue-green oil. A few he had carved apart had begun to manifest flesh over their metallic carcasses.
  
  It was three problems in one, and something was going to have to give sooner or later.
  
  The stairs were forcing them to climb up over and over, and there was no sign any part of Forge MP-42 industrial production was going to be raided soon.
  
  But the most frightening thing was how much their surroundings tried to shatter their sense of navigation. His magical compass, tied to the blood of Leo and Drew for point of references, was perfectly stable.
  
  The progression of the Suicide Squad in this maze of cold and enemies-filled stairs was not.
  
  Sometimes it appeared as they were hundreds of metres below the seas, while at others they were at altitudes such that they shouldn't have any oxygen to breathe.
  
  One might argue it was madness, but it was arguably worse.
  
  The Cursed Crown, clearly, was capable of creating a pocket dimension where the rules of reality regularly stayed far away from.
  
  The explosion of the Viking-class walker manned by the penguins was the signal the odious treachery he had spent so much time waiting for had at last come.
  
  That the other Viking manned by Elvis Knight detonated, struck from behind, was another of those 'coincidences' no one intelligent would believe.
  
  "Betrayal," the former Tyrant of Helike said cheerfully, making a large reverence which made sure that Blackbeard's strike missed largely his head. "Shocking, totally anticipated BETRAYAL!"
  
  And he stabbed the son of Ares with his blade of Stygian Iron.
  
  The 'Pirate Admiral' grunted in pain as the black blade emerged from his leg with a new crimson colour.
  
  In mere seconds, what little discipline existed fell into chaos, as Demigods, Legacies, and other humans began to fight each other like madmen.
  
  "Time to die, Jackson!" Octavian MacArthur, backstabber and treacherous lieutenant extraordinary, pointed an enormous flamethrower in his direction.
  
  "You know what would have been intelligent to do, oh Legacy of the Sun?" the son of Poseidon asked with a smirk.
  
  "Make me your second-in-command?"
  
  "I would rather name a goat," Perseus told truthfully, and he enjoyed very much the expression of hatred of the chief traitor. "No, I wanted to say that if you wanted to achieve something with your dastardly ambush, it would have been clever not organise it when there's a large reservoir of water just above your heads."
  
  Perseus summoned all his Hydrokinesis strength, and he called for the water. This part of the Forge was solid, but there were thousands of tons of water.
  
  The ceiling crashed, though by some divine providence, the pieces missed Octavian. The backstabber had really impressive luck! His lieutenants, not so much, though.
  
  "Now where was I?" the leader of the Suicide grinned as water washed up the clothes he wore over his X-Suit, and soon more or less every fighter was seeing the water rise up to their knees. "Ah yes, I remember. Death to the traitors!"
  
  In an aquatic environment, he was almost unbeatable. How sad...for the traitors.
  
  In a minute, he had already killed ten Legionnaires and fifteen Pirates. Unfortunately, Blackbeard was nowhere to be seen.
  
  "Tribune?"
  
  "I am with you, Jackson," the daughter of Sol grunted, plunging her gladius into the back of an officer of the Jolly Roger's crew.
  
  "Good," out of the two hundred-plus Legionnaires, that meant about one hundred were willing to follow the voice of sanity - and yes, it was deeply ironic it was his side which could be considered sane here. "Unsurprisingly, it seems the pirates have near-entirely gone over to the traitors."
  
  The ambush had begun with the Suicide Squad in the vanguard, when they had been about to descend some stairs, but at the edge of some very large hall, for once.
  
  As such, it gave the 'Betrayer Force' the space to assemble in overwhelming strength. There were close to one hundred Legionnaires and nine hundred Pirates there.
  
  And clearly, they had looted an impressive number of machines, that so far they had kept in their rear-guard in an attempt to keep it a surprise. There were three large tanks, plenty of dangerous bikes and quads with tripod-mounted weapons.
  
  It was a significant amount of firepower.
  
  But as he proved easily by raising a wall of water to stop bullets and other things, it was utterly insufficient to deal with someone like him.
  
  "Now I am a generous and pacifist leader," if it wasn't time to make a good speech, when would it be? "But I think all this oath-breaking deserves serious punishment. Bianca?"
  
  Hellfire struck, and several pirates died screaming as an inferno of black flames consumed them.
  
  "Can we crucify a few of them?"
  
  "You are going to lack wood for that, you realise?"
  
  "I will adapt."
  
  Perseus snickered.
  
  "Well, far from me the idea to prevent my lieutenants to innovate-"
  
  His hilarity stopped immediately, for in the distance, there was a powerful manipulation of Hydrokinesis, and it wasn't him doing it!
  
  "Forget that," the son of Poseidon commanded. "Run."
  
  "What?" Rico protested, busy playing with a large pile of explosives. "Boss, we can take them!"
  
  Something blasted the wall on their right, and multiple jets of water sprayed Pirates and Legionnaires alike.
  
  "Jackson, if it is your idea-"
  
  "I am not the one doing this! RUN!"
  
  The wall exploded, and unfortunately, it was not water which crawled out of the holes.
  
  Perseus had to react fast and severed a blue-green-purple tentacle bigger than him which would have struck Ethan.
  
  "By my mother's whip, what-"
  
  "Run! Stop freezing like frightened deer and run!"
  
  All the members of the Legionnaires and the Suicide Squad he could see at last obeyed, though a second and a third tentacle appearing may have something to do with it too.
  
  The things were bloody enormous, and they made an octopi look positively friendly given the spikes, the poisoned suction cups, and the maws which could be seen.
  
  And of course the sensation of overwhelming wrongness was back.
  
  "RUN!" And he took his own advice. It was not time to play the hero...or the villain, really.
  
  "What is this thing?" Dakota managed to scream as they scampered.
  
  "I think it's a Shoggoth," Perseus admitted as he used some of the water to destroy more automatons attempting to prevent their escape. "I think-"
  
  There were horrible screams from behind them. Alas, it seemed some of the traitors had not been clever enough to realise that fleeing was the correct course of action.
  
  "A Shoggoth? But that's not part of the Roman-Greek Pantheon?"
  
  "It is part of the Primordial Pantheon, Grant. Ask Hera if you don't believe me!"
  
  The former Goddess of Marriages nodded briskly, not that he really needed his support. This was not the kind of monster you went in front of to declare it was in violation of the Treaty of Jerusalem.
  
  Perseus checked the compass, and fortunately, they had chosen the right path.
  
  "We must accelerate! Everyone run faster!"
  
  The agony screams in the distance made sure no one asked why he felt it was necessary.
  
  30 December 2006, Armoury Alpha-Four, once part of Forge MP-42, Forge of the Ancients
  
  Annabeth didn't say anything as Perseus knocked Michael Kahale unconscious. Any Legionnaire who thought that rallying Octavian MacArthur - despite knowing the backstabber's legendary incompetence at that - really deserved everything about to happen to him.
  
  The only question was why Jackson had bothered taking him prisoner. Many Legionnaires they had confronted in the last hour had been killed instantly before they could even attempt to surrender.
  
  "Good. Grant will you transport him." The son of Poseidon ordered in a voice which didn't invited discussion. "Now, it has been over one hour, by my best opinion, since the majority of our auxiliaries went rogue. Who is missing?"
  
  "For the Suicide Squad," Annabeth cleared her throat, "we still have Elvis Knight and Michael Yew missing. They were both piloting walkers, and they fell from the stairs into this large cascade. We have been unable to locate them magically or by more conventional manners. And of course, Alexia and Kimiko of the Huntresses were unable to fight their way through the pirate army, and had to take an alternative path. We don't know-"
  
  "I don't believe in coincidences, Annabeth."
  
  "Coincidences? What would be the point? They are Huntresses!"
  
  "They are the two Huntresses who have been cursed in the Forge of All Perils." The leader of the Suicide Squad reminded her frostily.
  
  "They are still protected by Lady Artemis, Jackson," Ellen the Huntress countered.
  
  "But they can't access the same level of protections and blessings you and Jenna do." Perseus replied without missing a beat. "No matter. It isn't like we can do anything save leaving clues behind us that will allow them to catch up with us. If we had found functional automatons, the entire affair would have been far easier."
  
  This, alas, was absolutely true.
  
  The new Armoury Hall they had entered minutes ago was simply extraordinary.
  
  Clearly, this was one of the locations where Lord Hephaestus built the Destroyers and other game-changing automatons.
  
  There was only a slight issue.
  
  The Destroyers were incomplete.
  
  There were three of them. All towered over them. And each had at least one arm and a leg missing, in addition to their main source of energy being absent.
  
  Leo was a skilled son of Hephaestus, and they had some mechanical experts among the one hundred Legionnaires who had sided with them, but the Destroyers were way too far from final completion to be useful.
  
  And unfortunately, the same was true of nearly everything in this Armoury.
  
  "What are your orders, Jackson?" Erica Keller asked. "Octavian and the others are no doubt going to try to return to the ships and sail away with the Golden Fleece."
  
  "They can try," Perseus declared unconcerned. "Asterius and Lou Ellen are there, and they would need to bypass the protections of the Inevitable Doom in the first place. I am more worried by the monsters which are crawling out of every hole."
  
  Plenty of Demigods and Demigoddesses grimaced. The first tentacle monster they had seen over an hour ago had not been alas the only member of its species to try to eat them.
  
  "What is the plan?" Ethan was the one to voice the words for everyone.
  
  "The plan..." Perseus opened his compass and grimaced. "The plan has two parts, and unfortunately, I need to keep this traitor son of Venus alive for the first one."
  
  This brought a chuckle from Drew, who had kept her right arm in the form of an enormous Claymore.
  
  "I am a daughter of Aphrodite, Jackson."
  
  "I am aware of your lineage, oh Champion of Persephone." The red-eyed Demigod's familiar sense of sarcasm made its return. "But I need a specific Demigod to use some objects from a Vault in what was Forge MP-42. Believe me, if I could do it myself, I would. And if securing your unconditional assistance was necessary, I would already have bribed you."
  
  Miranda Gardiner laughed, and she was not the only one.
  
  "Yes, that looks like the Jackson I know. More super-weapons made into a human form?"
  
  "Not really, no," the son of Poseidon explained in a neutral tone, "they are more what I could call 'legacy artefacts'. In this case, I thing the best proverb is 'knowledge is power'. I could try something without them, but it's incredibly likely I would screw something up."
  
  Perseus shook his head.
  
  "Once that is done, the second part is simple in principle, and complicated in its execution. The Titaness and her august prisoner are on the Plateau, several hundreds of metres above our heads. We fight everything that stands in our way, and we do our utmost to free the God of Smiths and Fire."
  
  "This is going to be incredibly difficult," Annabeth decided it might as well be her to speak the obvious. "Force S has disintegrated by virtue of multiple betrayals. I know quantity wasn't synonymous with quality this time, but there would have been some sort of safety in numbers."
  
  "I know," Perseus acknowledged, "but in my opinion, it is unlikely that those poor souls are going to realise the magnitude of their mistakes and pledge their eternal friendship! I would be flattered if they did, you understand-"
  
  Annabeth glared.
  
  Perseus Jackson shut up for a couple of seconds.
  
  But when he did speak again, all joviality disappeared.
  
  "The monsters have found us again! Run!"
  
  30 December 2006, Hall of Forbidden Pools, Forge of the Ancients
  
  "Where is this bastard of Octavian?" Centurion Scipio Johnson felt like he had asked this very question a thousand times today.
  
  "I don't know!" Decurion Noah snapped back. "I swear he was next to me during the last monster assault and-"
  
  "Come on," Decurion Peter Jack rolled his eyes. "We all know this arrogant cuckoo was a coward. The moment it turned out the Suicide Squad couldn't be beaten, he ran away. Though I'm sure he will tell us he bravely ran away and will do his utmost to do some kind of nonsensical politician speech."
  
  "He may do worse than that," Scipio replied darkly. "The ships are almost defenceless near this island's shore."
  
  "Oh, come on," Noah replied unconvinced. "I realise we're not exactly speaking about a mental giant, but there's no way even Octavian would believe that he can brave the dangers of the Sea of Monsters with twenty or so Legionnaires by his side. Assuming he has that much, I think Gregory and Victor died by Jackson's blade."
  
  There was a moment of pause, and every Legionnaire and Pirate present - though there were only three of the latter here - looked at each other with varying degrees of concern.
  
  Yes, only a complete moron would think there was a chance of going back to New Constantinople with a skeleton crew.
  
  On the other hand, it was Octavian they were speaking about.
  
  "I don't like it, but we have to be sure." Scipio said. "We have to return to the ships."
  
  "If we do that," Peter grimaced, "we better pray the Gods will not incinerate us when we call them. I know there is a big reward for the Golden Fleece, but the Goddess overseeing this operation is the Greek Goddess of Strategy."
  
  And Athena, as every Legionnaire knew, was not a fan, to put it mildly, of the Romans.
  
  She may very well execute them all for gross cowardice and mutiny in presence of the enemy.
  
  "This is a bridge we will cross in due time." It was all that he could say, really. Jackson was more likely going to use them as cannon-fodder to punish them - what he had done to his 'Gallowborne' was just sadism made flesh. And Scipio may be a traitor, but he didn't want to die. "On the subject of the good news, this hall clearly has several maps of the Forge we're currently trying to navigate."
  
  "True. It seems Goddess Fortuna is smiling upon us for once." One of the many one-eyed pirates of Blackbeard agreed. "I didn't bring parchment and ink with me to copy it."
  
  "Then we will have to do it from memory." They weren't that lucky, it seemed. Scipio stepped forwards to read the Forge's map, but it seemed suddenly the words and the drawings were dribbling. The Centurion touched the object, and sure enough, the thing was completely wet! "Come on, somehow, water is falling upon the maps! "Poena, Goddess of Vengeance, I beseech you to-"
  
  An enormous torrent of water struck him into the face and Scipio was thrown into the air with an undignified yell crossing his lips.
  
  And when he landed again, it hurt...but it could have been worse if he had not crashed into a pool of water.
  
  Wait, what?
  
  The entire room didn't have-
  
  As he rose unsteadily, the Centurion saw that from everywhere, there was the equivalent of entire rivers in fury surging out from the spaces where maps had awaited them.
  
  "The doors! The doors! They are closing! Prevent them from-"
  
  CLANG!
  
  "Mercy!" A pirate shouted. "I don't know how to swim, I-"
  
  An enormous maw revealed itself and grabbed him underwater.
  
  It was a maw that most Legionnaires could recognise in a heartbeat.
  
  "Sea snakes! This place is bringing young sea snakes here!"
  
  Then something bit into his right leg.
  
  And Scipio Johnson didn't feel anything in his limb anymore.
  
  He looked down, and saw only crimson.
  
  "The poison of the sea snakes," he managed to grit out. "You lose all sensations where you've been bitten, and then, it spreads all over your body!"
  
  There were screams, and there was a lot of blood everywhere.
  
  Another snake jumped to bite him into the arm and drag him into its depths.
  
  Scipio swallowed a lot of water, and everything hurt.
  
  A second later, he looked down into the depths.
  
  Scipio Johnson never stopped screaming for the last minute of his life.
  
  30 December 2006, Vault Omega-One, once-part of Forge MP-42, Forge of the Ancients
  
  According to one Perseus Jackson, the God Hephaestus - better known as Vulcan by every proud Roman - was a 'very nice guy'.
  
  Well, Reyna was sorry to say it, but in her honest and humble opinion, the God of the Forges was a paranoid and insanely dangerous deity!
  
  Seriously, who had the idea to build an army of turtle automatons shooting lasers with their eyes to defend his vaults?
  
  Who dreamed of conceiving entire avenues where the statues shot laser arrows and where unmanned chariots could crush you under spiked laser wheels?
  
  Who would have the mental deviancy to even think about imprisoning you into cages before precipitating you in a pit filled with lasers?
  
  And in case you had missed it, yeah, Hephaestus-Vulcan had a thing for lasers!
  
  "Clearly our good friend thought lasers were the answer to everything." The mad son of Poseidon chuckled next to her, because of course this infernal Demigod would find the entire lethal theme amusing.
  
  "Nothing that chalk and a good dose of dexterity can't solve," the blonde son of Hermes answered. "May I?"
  
  "Go ahead," Perseus Jackson grinned. "I've not sacrificed a considerable amount of time to return empty-handed."
  
  Several big keyholes were manually unlocked, and the heavy red-gold gate in front of them at last opened.
  
  After meeting empty rooms after empty rooms, and half-completed automatons coexisting with murderous ones, Reyna fully expected the spectacle to be disappointing.
  
  She was wrong.
  
  The sight her eyes gave her was one of absolute wealth, superb painting, and in general extraordinarily artworks. And all of that was magically presented above several tons of bullion and precious metals.
  
  "Ha! HA! HA!" A Legionnaire laughed hysterically. "RICH! WE ARE RICH!"
  
  "Yes, speaking of that," Perseus Jackson began with an ironic tone Hylla and she had learned to recognise incredibly fast. "There are anti-organic bombs spread over this vault. And if you will notice the skeletons, you might acknowledge we're not the first to reach this treasure."
  
  "Come on, Jackson," her big sister spoke for the entire Suicide Squad for once, "I don't believe you made us solve all these lethal enigmas and deactivate all these countless traps just to admire the treasures here. Look at that! I think it is an original of Leonardo Da Vinci-"
  
  "Yes, and he painted the Goddess Aphrodite, I'm not blind." The young black-haired Demigod snorted loudly. "I could loot this vault, don't get me wrong. But there is no time to safely remove all the anti-organic bombs. The sands of time are pouring into the lower part of the hourglass, and they're pouring fast. Rico!"
  
  "Boss! Kaboom?"
  
  "Not this time," was the answer, to the relief of hundreds of souls, and the displeasure of one penguin. "I need the special fishing rod."
  
  "Err...yes? Yes, right away, Boss!"
  
  In the next seconds, while a penguin searched through a seemingly bottomless backpack, it fell to the daughter of Athena to ask the disturbing questions.
  
  "How many objects are you after here?"
  
  "Oh, three," the son of Poseidon replied like it was no big deal.
  
  "Only three?"
  
  "Only three, she says," the scion of the Seas chuckled. "It can't be more, I have only three vials of Cyclops' blood."
  
  "And why are three vials of those necessary?" the blonde daughter of Wisdom was evidently as confused as they were.
  
  "For the simple reason, oh Annabeth, that these objects can't be manipulated by magic or by any methods for as long as we haven't broken the protections on every object. We have to use Cyclops' blood first - diluted of course, to not damage the artworks and every priceless item."
  
  "What happens otherwise?"
  
  "You die," the daughter of Hades said cheerfully. "The divine curse here is particularly nasty. The metal in fusion will be directly teleported in your stomach. Wow, Hephaestus was feeling vindictive when he prepared everything here."
  
  "Fishing rod ready, Boss! What are the targets?"
  
  Reyna had expected some logic.
  
  She should have known better.
  
  The three artefacts had nothing in common. The first was, of all things, a long braid of brilliant golden hair. The second was an enormous scroll; it looked very ancient and it looked like many sheep had lost their lives for this one to be created.
  
  And the third...the third was a golden anvil, the symbol of the Forge by excellence.
  
  The daughter of Bellona hadn't the faintest idea why Jackson wanted an anvil in the first place, however, even if this one was certainly made of Orichalcum.
  
  Credit where credit was due, the penguin wielded his fishing rod like an expert, and soon all three vials were poured onto the true targets. There was a lot of red smoke over each object, as the protections dissipated.
  
  "Excellent! Now I just have to go and grab them."
  
  "And how are you going to avoid an ironic death?" the Lightning Thief wondered aloud. "You set a foot here, the anti-organic bombs will flay you in mere seconds."
  
  "That's the problem with people like you," Jackson grinned. "You are so confident in what you know that you don't realise the obvious solutions until they smack you in their face."
  
  "The obvious?"
  
  "Yes, the obvious." Perseus Jackson jumped.
  
  Several people gasped.
  
  The son of Poseidon landed on his hands, and began to progress into the vault in this acrobatic position, legs upwards, like a clown making his performance in front of a public.
  
  The daughter of Hades facepalmed.
  
  She was far from the only one.
  
  "The feet of mortals and flesh beings are to be cursed," Reyna heard her mutter. "The feet."
  
  And since Jackson used only his hands to come into contact with the ground, well, by definition it didn't count.
  
  This was crazy. This was brilliant. It was just looking ridiculous.
  
  And it worked.
  
  One by one, Jackson got to the artefacts he had marked by Cyclops' blood, and then threw them outside the vault - the anvil was without surprise the most complicated proposal.
  
  Many people applauded without reserve when the son of Poseidon returned, unscratched and out of breath.
  
  "Do we need to get away in a hurry?"
  
  "No, the lasers shouldn't reinitialise before two or three hours." Perseus answered Annabeth Chase, who wasn't hiding her admiring expression for the leader of the Suicide Squad.
  
  Without any more ceremony, the grinning Demigod unsealed the scroll.
  
  "Clarisse, you will carry the anvil. Bianca will enchant it to make it lighter." One green eye and one red eye began with avidity. "What? That can't be right!"
  
  "Something problematic?"
  
  "Yes," the eyes of Perseus Jackson must be able to read at tremendous speed, because in what could only be called lightning-speed, he had studied a document which had to be written with thousands of Greek glyphs. "APHRODITE!"
  
  Many Legionnaires and other Demigods jumped.
  
  But that was the only result earned by the shout.
  
  "I know you can hear my call," the son of Poseidon began, "the Cursed Crown does not have the power to block you. You were prompt to blame the Master of Olympus and your husband, but I see the majority of the blame can be found far closer to the Temple of Love! APHRODITE!"
  
  There was only silence...well, silence and the snickering of two Huntresses.
  
  "That's why we never trust Love, Jackson," Jenna told him with a cheerful expression.
  
  "Don't worry," Ellen added. "I'm sure it will-"
  
  "This," and for the first time, Reyna shivered in fear, for the face of the mad Demigod was truly mad, "is not going to be tolerated. Who does she think she is?"
  
  A Goddess, the answer was, but at this very moment, survival instincts kicked in.
  
  "Very well," a disturbing sound passed his lips, one she would not have described as 'laughter', "Plan Omega-Omega-Titanomachy it is. Tribune!"
  
  "Yes, Lord Jackson?" Erica Keller saluted.
  
  "Bring me the traitor."
  
  It took three seconds for Michael Kahale to be thrown in chains at his feet.
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant," the grimace-smile was honestly terrifying. "I thank you in advance for the great favour I will owe you in the fullness of time."
  
  The gag was removed.
  
  "You're crazy, Jackson! The Gods will-"
  
  There was a kick...and a small quantity of water was thrown in his face.
  
  Everything happened too fast, the only thing Reyna was able to see was the end: Michael Kahale, suddenly opening his eyes and watching as his open palm held the golden braid of hair recovered from the vault.
  
  "I DENY YOU AND-"
  
  Michael Kahale began to burn in pink flames immediately.
  
  Everyone brusquely moved away from him, but the flames didn't spread.
  
  They 'merely' assaulted the treacherous son of Venus, and transformed him into a human torch.
  
  The stranger parts? The golden braid in his hand was clearly not burning. And there were no screams as the traitor transformed into pink smoke.
  
  Perseus Jackson made a sound of approval. Then he began to search in his pockets for...handkerchiefs?
  
  "Oh woe is me!" The voice sounded like it was made for comedy. "Who could have predicted my treacherous lieutenant was going to be judged as unworthy by this marvellous braid of the Goddess Ishtar? Who could have thought he would dare challenging my orders in order to gain power at my expense?"
  
  He...he wasn't serious, right? Reyna was not sure of many things, but that pushed bad puns onto new frontiers, here.
  
  "Truly this is the darkest day of this Quest! Oh Gods! Oh God! My frail strength fails in me in my hour of need! I am absolutely devastated! Oh, I am mourning the terrible death of my treacherous lieutenant!"
  
  Then though the expression was, yes, mournful, the eyes were truly implacable.
  
  "And so I call you in my hour of need, you the Mournful One, you who will keep my sorrow at bay until the final duel and the end of my Quest! ISIS!"
  
  No, he couldn't-
  
  There was an enormous flash of golden-purple light, and the Caesarea of the Traitor Triumvirate materialised.
  
  At least this time, Reyna noted humbly, she wore a humble linen robe.
  
  "You again," the anger in the black eyes was impossible to miss. "I don't know how you did it-"
  
  "The braid of Ishtar has been activated, fulfil your office, Isis!"
  
  There was a brilliant white light.
  
  When her temporary blindness faded away, the daughter of Bellona gaped.
  
  Cleopatra, when she had arrived, had clearly black hair which didn't go past her neck.
  
  There had been no braid, and the only decoration upon her head had been the Uraeus diadem.
  
  But now it was no longer the case.
  
  There was a long black braid tying her hair, and it was so long it almost reached her backside.
  
  "Don't take it personally," Perseus Jackson grinned. "The plan is ongoing."
  
  And with a pure explosion of water coming out of a jug leaning against the back wall, the mad Demigod banished her.
  
  This time, the alarms shrieked, and lasers began to reinitialise.
  
  "Oh, oh," Luke Castellan spoke. "I really don't like that at all..."
  
  A heartbeat later, it became worse, as a fog of bad omen began manifesting in every direction.
  
  "I have not violated any Ancient Law, cursed artefact of the Deeps!" the most insane Demigod in existence proclaimed to everyone who had the senses to hear. "And if you try to stop me, remember the Rule of Three!"
  
  30 December 2006, the Sunken Temple, the Deeps
  
  Michael Yew very much regretted the loss of his Viking-class walker.
  
  In it, he had been powerful, strong, and able to slay hundreds of automatons and monsters.
  
  Outside it, the son of Apollo felt extremely vulnerable.
  
  "I was telling you we should have chosen the right tunnel!"
  
  "Shut up, bard!" the Huntress with the blue tail snapped back.
  
  The blonde-haired Demigod grimaced. He was definitely blaming Jackson for all the 'bard' jokes and insults, all right.
  
  "I don't recognise this place," Elvis Knight spoke, trying to not sound out of breath, and miserably failing. "This is looking like less and less the Forge we entered."
  
  "You're right." The red-horned Huntress admitted reluctantly. "We aren't in the halls of the Forge, twisted or not. I think this is a Temple. Kimiko?"
  
  "A ruined one," the other Huntress shook her head. "I think we shouldn't progress further, Alexia."
  
  "Well, progression is going to be extremely difficult," Michael voiced his opinion, though he knew it wasn't going to be desired. "We often have water up to our knees and-"
  
  "This isn't that," the red-cursed Huntress rudely interrupted him. "The cold, the magic of the place, and the monsters...it is different, yet strangely similar to what we saw inside the Forge of All Perils."
  
  "We have donned our X-Suits this time."
  
  "But this time, we haven't Jackson with us."
  
  The son of Apollo gaped for a brief moment. Was it a hallucination, or were the Huntresses seriously admitting they needed the son of Poseidon?
  
  "I think we need to turn back."
  
  "Unfortunately," Elvis Knight had definitely the impression of a Centurion about to deliver his superiors the bad news, "the reasons why we chose to flee here haven't diminished. I don't know why the Pirates invested such determination into hunting us, but they did. And-"
  
  There was a ruckus which echoed into the tunnels they had used minutes ago.
  
  "They found us," the black-haired Huntress cursed. "Again."
  
  "They must have a tracker," the other servant of Artemis nodded. "If we only had Jackson here...with all this water, he would destroy them in a few seconds."
  
  "This is very true, but Jackson isn't here," immediately, saying the blunt truth earned him dark glares. "Do we fight?"
  
  "No," the Huntress answering to Alexia stared at him like he was a moron, "there are more of them than we have arrows. We hide...and quickly, they are going to be here at any moment."
  
  It went without saying, Michael Yew mused, that it was easier said than done. As previously remarked, the temple was filled with water so it went up to their knees. They had to progress slowly before reaching a small mountain of debris which wasn't immerged. After that, it got easier...somewhat. The water wasn't hindering their moves, but the sensation of wrongness assaulted them.
  
  "Definitely like these damned items the others should never have picked from the Drakon's hoard," the blonde Demigod thought he heard one of the Huntresses whisper.
  
  Then they went silent, for a small army of Pirates began to appear.
  
  Michael was no strategist, but he knew how to count. There were at least seventy pirates, and all of them were adults, heavier and taller than any member of their four-strong group.
  
  And as if it wasn't bad enough, more came.
  
  And one of them was easily recognisable.
  
  "Captain, with all the respect I have for you, we should return to the ships. Forget these Demigods-"
  
  "Lafitte, you are a good second," Blackbeard, son of Ares, growled, "but you understand nothing to the situation. Some of our accomplices are fools, but I am not. The son of Poseidon wouldn't have left the ships with so little protection unless he was extremely confident the enchantments imbued in the Inevitable Doom were able to neutralise us all."
  
  The legendary pirate had several wounds on his arms and as he raised his legs, it looked like someone, likely Jackson, had managed to pierce his legs. Alas, Blackbeard looked like he had access to some potent healing magic or good doctors, or both.
  
  "Thus I need a few members of the Suicide Squad to deactivate said protections. They are keyed in, and we are not. And I know they can listen to me."
  
  This time, the reason Michael shivered had nothing to do with the water or the sinister aura of the half-submerged temple.
  
  "Last chance, boys and girls. Do you think hiding behind these crumbling statues was enough to trick my abilities? The first to come out will have a place of honour at my table. The others-"
  
  Something shrieked in the air.
  
  A second later, the pirate in front of Blackbeard looked very stupid as he received a silver arrow between his eyes.
  
  "The hard way it is," the human-looking monster laughed. "Remember, I want them alive!"
  
  Michael prepared his guitar - which I definitely seen better days - as the pirate battle-cries filled the temples.
  
  The outlaws advanced, despite the Huntresses 'welcoming them' with additional silvery projectiles.
  
  There was an angry whisper.
  
  And then a pirate plunged his sword in the neck of one of his 'comrades'.
  
  "DAMNATION!"
  
  "WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING-"
  
  "The Dreaming One will have his due."
  
  The eyes of the treacherous pirate burned gold.
  
  "EIDOLON!"
  
  "DON'T LET THEM-"
  
  The water exploded, and an abomination rose from the deeps.
  
  Blue-green tentacles struck, and several pirates screamed for the last time as the suction cups claimed them and transformed them into desiccated cups.
  
  Muskets and other gunpowder weapons unleashed their anger.
  
  And this was nothing compared to what Blackbeard did.
  
  Thousands of blades were conjured, and a storm of metal and death was hurled at the monster.
  
  Black ichor poured into the cold waters of the Temple.
  
  Michael winced, before deciding that since the only exit was blocked, it was fight their way out now or something else.
  
  "I AM ON THE HIGH WAY TO HELL!" The son of Apollo began to play and attack the betrayers with sonic attacks. "AND I BLAME JACKSON! AND HERA! AND OLYMPUS!"
  
  But for each enemy who fell, there were three or four to replace them. Suddenly, the idea to 'recruit' them didn't look so good anymore, and it hadn't been great to begin with. Moreover, the blue-green horror had enough of letting its octopi-like tentacles get hacked and it decided to surface.
  
  It was-
  
  Reality suddenly stopped making sense.
  
  Michael screamed and for a moment, he had no doubt he truly became mad.
  
  Fortunately, it didn't last long...but when he came back to his senses, he realised his eyes were bleeding.
  
  "No," the son of the Sun God spat blood. "I...no..."
  
  He turned his head, and the blue-tailed Huntress came into view...with eyes of pure gold.
  
  "Get away from her!" Michael ordered, accompanying it with a powerful tune.
  
  To his complete surprise, it worked.
  
  A dark cloud of evil was expelled from the eyes and the mouth of the girl.
  
  "Of all times for a bastard like you to awaken an incomplete version of Charmspeak," the Eidolon spoke hatefully, "but you're untrained. And we have already what we wanted."
  
  The Possessing spirit plunged into another pirate, and plunged into the chaotic melee before he had the time to replicate his exploit.
  
  Not that it was bloody likely.
  
  Michael felt as if his voice was completely on fire, and no, no it wasn't a pleasant sensation.
  
  "We have to go," Elvis Knight helped the no-longer-Possessed Huntress to stand, "and please don't look at the monster." Blood had come out of the Centurion's eyes, his face was livid and tormented, and the son of Apollo had no doubt he certainly looked as bad, if not worse.
  
  "Do I-"
  
  "No, the other Eidolon took Alexia! We have to-"
  
  Reality unravelled.
  
  More waves struck.
  
  And the pillars and the entire structure of the Temple shook.
  
  Michael thought he heard a melody...something that was not destined for mortal ears.
  
  Impossibly, the broken statues which had been discarded in every aisle of this dark temple began to rebuild themselves.
  
  The decorations on the reformed arches were magically returning to a pristine state, and it wasn't a good thing at all, for each carving, each fresco was proclaiming the glory of the Primordials!
  
  Battle escalated again, as more pirates arrived, and a second horror rose to match their numbers.
  
  "COME ON BOYS! WHO WANTS SOME SUSHI TONIGHT?"
  
  Yeah, Blackbeard was insane, no surprise. That might be why Jackson and him went along so well before they betrayed each other.
  
  "Knight! I don't see her!"
  
  More waves of water were hurled at them, and Michael blasted two pirates away.
  
  And then something worse came.
  
  The Sun in him felt like the abyss had opened up.
  
  The debris had disappeared, and now from his observation point, Michael could see the entirety of the temple avenue.
  
  A horrible black altar was now revealed.
  
  And above it, there was a crown.
  
  The very crown Jackson had warned them to not go anywhere near.
  
  The warning was unnecessary, though.
  
  Just a mere glance was enough for him to give him the urge to scurry away.
  
  "ALEXIA! FIGHT IT!"
  
  At last, Michael saw the Possessed Huntress.
  
  She was crouching near a nearby statue and-
  
  Wait a minute, why was she removing all the clothes she wore over her X-Suit?
  
  Alexia knew she was Possessed.
  
  It wasn't painful, really.
  
  And she was able to see everything as if she was in control.
  
  The Huntress just couldn't do anything about it.
  
  There was some mental component to the Possession which suppressed her emotions too.
  
  Otherwise, she was pretty sure she would have felt a lot of anger at the Eidolon revealing her body. X-Suits might protect against plenty of ice-based Curses, but they were tight and extremely revealing.
  
  Yet there was no shame, and no anger.
  
  "If you want to please us, lovely-"
  
  The disgusting male received her last arrow in his throat.
  
  That, at least, was very much an action she didn't disapprove of.
  
  The same couldn't be said about the next.
  
  The Eidolon forced her body to sprint deeper into the temple, her silver knives in hand.
  
  Towards the dark altar and the blue-green temple.
  
  Instantly, Alexia wished she could close her eyes.
  
  The sight was one of madness. No wonder the son of Poseidon had warned them. Even by the standards of insanity this Great Quest had been used to, it was far too much.
  
  "This artefact is going to be my revenge," the Eidolon used her mouth to declare arrogantly. "With it, Perseus Jackson will pay for what he did. Rejoice, Huntress, for you will become a far better vessel than Medusa ever was-"
  
  "Not so fast!" the spirit Possessing her had to throw her body into the water to avoid three blades.
  
  "Blackbeard," the Eidolon hissed angrily. "Your men are dying against the Sho-"
  
  Shadows swirled, and a blade missed her throat by the thinnest of margins.
  
  "You are not wanted here. Stop this Possession at once!" Power washed over them, but it was weak. Too weak.
  
  The shout of the son of Apollo a few minutes ago had been powerful but short-lived.
  
  This one lasted far longer but missed something important.
  
  "Charmspeak doesn't work like that, Blackbeard," the spirit laughed, striking him in an impeccable choreography of blades which forced the monstrous male to take a step back, then two...and then a gigantic tentacle grabbed it, and the Pirate Admiral had more interesting things to worry about than her.
  
  Alexia found herself feeling something in her chest...it passed, and her body turned away.
  
  She tried to fight it.
  
  But the long-lived Huntress was a spectator inside her own body.
  
  There was no button, no mechanism to stop the Possession.
  
  Only true Charmspeak or the variant command-voice Perseus Jackson was using had been working on the Eidolons, and those who could use that were not here.
  
  Her body reached the altar.
  
  "Now let's begin," the Eidolon said smugly, "I abjure Artemis, and renounce all her blessings."
  
  There was no emotion, but Alexia thought it was a relief that her silver bracelets - the only artefacts the spirit had not been able to remove - didn't disappear.
  
  "No matter," the Eidolon declared. But its frustration was evident.
  
  She saw herself climbing on the black altar.
  
  "Oh, Dreaming One, I pledge myself to the Abyss. I swear eternal loyalty to Water and the Dream, for all days and nights, until you rise to claim your rightful due."
  
  Her fingers touched the crown-
  
  NO.
  
  It was like a thousand blades pierced her soul and her flesh at once.
  
  Someone screamed.
  
  After a heartbeat, Alexia realised it was the Eidolon.
  
  And suddenly, the Possession was over.
  
  The spirit was expelled as a cloud of smoke...and despite a desperate begging, was immediately swallowed by the crown.
  
  There was some sound of snapping, and suddenly, the Huntress was sure the Eidolon was deader than dead.
  
  She felt instantly some joy...and it disappeared as abruptly, because her hands didn't obey! She was in control of her body, but her hands were tied to the Crown of the Deeps by a mass of blue-green tentacles!
  
  AT LAST WE MEET, IPHIGENIA.
  
  "You..." no one was aware of her birth name, save Lady Artemis and Zoë Nightshade, "You know who I am?"
  
  THE DEEP KNOWS ITS CHILDREN. I RECOGNISE THE ACHE IN YOUR SOUL.
  
  "I...I am loyal to Lady Artemis."
  
  AND YET THE WYLD WAS ABLE TO CHANGE YOU. THE MOON CAN'T HIDE YOU.
  
  The ground shook. And before her astonished eyes, the red talons she had been cursed with since the first journey into the Forge of All Perils melted away, and her feet were back.
  
  There was some pressure on her forehead, and while she couldn't touch to verify, Alexia was sure the red horns had disappeared too.
  
  But it did not stop here.
  
  The X-Suit over skin changed, and took the appearance of scales of blue-green colour.
  
  And for the first time, Alexia shivered, for there was a part of her which wished for more.
  
  The fog clouded everything, and the female warrior saw a figure which looked like her. But this time, the blue-green scales were no suit; they were truly part of her. There might be gills and webbed hands, but-
  
  YOU ARE NOT READY.
  
  "No...Lord..." Fortunately, something stopped her from uttering 'Pontus'.
  
  TIME IS A LIE IN THE DREAM. YOU WILL RETURN.
  
  Alexia - no, no she was Iphigenia once more - felt the tentacles free her hands. The Crown of the Deeps was placed back on the black altar.
  
  There was a terrible explosion.
  
  She rose her head fast enough to see a large pillar collapse on a group of pirates.
  
  The dark waters began to rise once again.
  
  Alexia didn't know how, but she began to run.
  
  They fled.
  
  No one had given the order.
  
  Or at least if someone had shouted it, Elvis Knight had not listened to him or her.
  
  It was something that brought of a desperate chuckle out of him for a second.
  
  Then his lungs burned and he tried to take even more air in his lungs.
  
  Everything could help when you had to run faster.
  
  Everything was better than remaining here.
  
  Pillars crumbled all around them.
  
  Tunnels disappeared.
  
  The water was tearing apart everything.
  
  It was swallowing the island, and if they didn't run fast enough, they were going to be devoured with it.
  
  The Roman Centurion didn't turn his head back.
  
  Not even once.
  
  Maybe the others were following, or they were not.
  
  He couldn't do anything for them.
  
  And he didn't want to turn his head back at the things which were no doubt behind them.
  
  Once had already been too much.
  
  They had seen what no mortal was meant to watch.
  
  Gods! It was now incredibly clear why these kinds of Quests and Expeditions were never spoken of.
  
  No Quester or Legionnaire ever came back.
  
  Thrice or four times, he stumbled, almost fell into the water face-first.
  
  Every time, by a supreme effort of strength and will, Elvis managed to stay on his legs. It was good because every time he saw someone fall nearby, they were sucked up by the watery torrents, dragged towards the monsters which waited to be fed.
  
  And so they fled.
  
  Be they Pirate, Legionnaire, Quester or something else was irrelevant: they all had to get out of this nightmare.
  
  Elvis, to his relief, saw that Michael was running on his right.
  
  And was that one of the Huntresses ahead?
  
  There were no more tunnels as they rushed with all the strength left in their bodies.
  
  The fog began to clear.
  
  The air felt better. The air didn't feel wrong for the first time in hours.
  
  The ground changed.
  
  The surroundings grew more familiar. There were furnaces ahead.
  
  There were massive things of iron and steel, and hundreds of automatons.
  
  And they were fleeing too.
  
  Elvis risked a glance behind him.
  
  For the first time, he saw the devastation.
  
  This part of the island was now linked to the Sea of Monsters, and in the centre of where the Sunken Temple must have been, there was now a giant whirlpool.
  
  This was assuredly no normal phenomenon...and as if nothing reassuring good could come today, there was a warship sailing to its doom, the vortex about to devour it like it had eaten a lot of things before that.
  
  Elvis turned his head and focused on his immediate survival.
  
  He ran, right as this entire place was feeling more and more unstable under his feet.
  
  It was as if they were at the edge of a giant crater, except there were no meteors, and the water was the judge of death.
  
  His last reserves were mostly gone. His legs were a succession of muscles burning in pain.
  
  Everything was falling-
  
  Elvis jumped, but he missed, he was too tired, too-
  
  And suddenly, he wasn't falling anymore.
  
  "See, Skipper? I told you this fishing rod could be used for something else! You will pay me ten Denarii!"
  
  "Dakota! Come and help us! We have a big catch, courtesy of Rico!"
  
  Okay, now he was hallucinating.
  
  It was a hallucination, right? There was no way he could have been 'fished' out by this mad penguin. First all, no normal fishing rod would handle his weight!
  
  Elvis felt thirsty and delirious.
  
  He was suspended above a gigantic crater, and water was filling the void. This part of the island was gone.
  
  There was a warship sinking, along with scores of Pirates.
  
  There was a sound of rocks cracking.
  
  He saw Blackbeard.
  
  The Pirate Admiral had lost his large black cloak and most of his extravagant attire of feathered hat and other self-appointed decorations.
  
  The adult Demigod was holding for dear life one or two metres short of the top of the cliff. By the looks of it, he had used his blade as claws to 'stab' the rocks and find some support where there was no one to find.
  
  Then the grinning face appeared.
  
  "You."
  
  "Me." There was a pause. "Did you see it?"
  
  "I did." Blackbeard grunted. "We were puppets in a game far too big for our imagination."
  
  "Yes. But that's why I cursed your incredible betrayal, after all."
  
  The smile missed some teeth, but was still filled with determination and malice.
  
  "One day, I will be the King of Pirates, Perseus Jackson."
  
  A Trident of bronze blasted the rock Blackbeard had used to hold on for dear life.
  
  "Long live the King!"
  
  31 December 2006, the Plateau, the edge of the Devastation, the ruins of Forge MP-42
  
  Of course, traditions were to be observed.
  
  As Blackbeard made an enormous splash as he collided with the water, the former Tyrant put a cheerful smile on his face.
  
  "I assure you, my dear lieutenants, that it is the last time we've seen of my eternal friend Admiral Blackbeard."
  
  "Jackson, even I know that's taunting-" Bianca began.
  
  "Ssshh!" The son of Poseidon wasn't going to have his fun ruined, Dread Empress or not. "Did you see the height of that drop? Obviously, he's dead."
  
  He wasn't, of course.
  
  Demigods were not as resilient to certain Named, but Blackbeard wasn't an average Demigod.
  
  The son of Ares had not survived for so long in the Sea of Monsters by sheer luck.
  
  "Lady Calypso?"
  
  "I can't feel the influence of the Crown of the Deeps anymore," the Titaness reported. "Though it left its mark on one of the survivors, it must be said."
  
  There was no need to ask the question of 'who?'
  
  There had been four survivors of the Suicide Squad involved in this mess, but only one had truly been more than superficially tainted.
  
  The skin colour of her face and her feet - the only parts visible outside the transformed X-Suit - were so pale they were unnaturally pale white, almost to the colour of ivory. Her hair had abandoned the brown-blonde to show long blue-green hair, roots included. The nose was stronger, and reminded him some statues of Greek temples he had visited in the pasts.
  
  And yeah, the X-Suit had been changed. It was now akin to look at blue-green scales, and at a guess, it may very well be impossible to remove. It was quite a feat, because Khione's influence had been relatively powerful in that piece of cloth. But what was the power of a Queen of Hell against a Primordial's will?
  
  One must also note that the red horns and the red talons had disappeared, the curses broken. That wasn't supposed to be possible, not unless the Sire of the Drakons was involved, and he wasn't.
  
  As for the eyes...Perseus merely glanced at them.
  
  He wasn't mad enough to do more than that.
  
  "I congratulate you for not a gibbering wreck, Alexia," then again, she had been chosen. Pontus' artefact had made sure she couldn't get too mad.
  
  "Not Alexia," the former Huntress closed her eyes and shivered, "not anymore. I am taking back my old name. I am Iphigenia."
  
  Perseus winced internally. Oh great. The only Iphigenia he was very much familiar with was the daughter of Agamemnon who had been sacrificed to appease the wrath of Artemis. That had been one of the many disasters preceding the bloodbath that was called the Trojan War.
  
  "Are you going to kill me?"
  
  Perseus laughed.
  
  "You have been blessed by the Dreaming One, Iphigenia. Any God, Goddess, or Demigod stupid enough to raise his weapon against you will wish death will claim him or her by the time the Dreaming One will have finished to punish him or her."
  
  There was a Divine Contract now between Pontus and her. Making an assassination attempt on her was just a fancy way to be tortured for several thousand years.
  
  In the distance, many pirates began to shout in languages known to no men.
  
  "Ethan?"
  
  "Perseus?"
  
  "Many Pirates seem to have lost whatever sanity they had left in this Temple of the Deeps. Give them the only mercy we can. My Uncle's enforcers will have to convince them to drink the Lethe's waters."
  
  "I will do it," the son of Nemesis said grimly. "Michael Yew, Elvis Knight, and Kimiko are in a better state, but they have hallucinations and clearly suffered from this madness too. They aren't in a good mental state, Jackson."
  
  "I know. But as I said, the only real thing for some peace of mind in that situation is to drink the Lethe's waters. Otherwise, you just accept you are insane, and move on."
  
  The former Tyrant had done it himself, but the majority of humans couldn't replicate the feat.
  
  "The Eidolons," Iphigenia spoke after a long silence. "It was the Eidolons who almost killed us. They wanted to claim the Crown to kill you."
  
  "Spirits have never been noted for their intelligence, but these ones have really given a new meaning to the word stupidity."
  
  Honestly, the idea of Possessing a Huntress of the correct lineage, as clever as it sounded at first, was idiocy incarnate.
  
  The Primordials wanted real believers in their cause.
  
  And an Eidolon may control someone's body, but the spirit had no control over the spirit or the soul.
  
  "I suppose one at least was devoured by the Crown?"
  
  Iphigenia nodded.
  
  "Let's hope they got everything they deserved." These were rare spirits, fortunately. "They already did a considerable amount of damage."
  
  Close to one-fifth of the entire island had been swallowed under the waves.
  
  And if he wasn't mistaken, the warship Jolly Roger had gone down with it, dragged by the power of the Crown as a blood tribute to satiate its monstrous hunger.
  
  "What are we going to do?"
  
  Perseus clicked his fingers and looked east.
  
  A massive fortress of water, steam, and fire awaited his eyes as the fingers of dawn touched the Sea of Monsters.
  
  There was a large gate, guarded by a sizeable army of dolphins and other sea creatures.
  
  At last, their goal was in sight.
  
  "The Huntresses are going to bring back our indisposed members to the Inevitable Doom." The black-haired Demigod commanded. "We, meanwhile, are going to storm this Citadel, and prove our invincibility one more time."
  
  31 December 2006, the beach in front of the HPMS Inevitable Doom
  
  Octavian laughed in relief as they escaped the broken forge-complex and reached the beach.
  
  And it was a very much changed beach.
  
  The sands he remembered had been blue-green and put everyone ill-at-ease.
  
  This new beach, however, had only black and red sand, and somehow, it felt like natural.
  
  "We survived. Now we have to seize the yacht."
  
  "Err... First Centurion? Not that I doubt your abilities, but assuming we succeed, what the hell we are going to do next?"
  
  "I think it was evident," Octavian hid his annoyance, though the simpleton frustrated him the moment he opened his voice. "We will offer the Golden Fleece to Lord Jupiter and once blessed by His Radiance, we will return home. This, I promise you as Augury of the Twelfth Legion."
  
  "I don't doubt your word, Centurion. But there are only thirteen of us left. It's too few to properly crew the Ave Caesar-"
  
  "This is why we're going to take control of this super-mega yacht and take it as our new flagship. That way, we're killing two birds with one stone: the Golden Fleece will be ours, and we will have our escape route ready to leave."
  
  Octavian had expected enthusiasm.
  
  Instead, he got much grumbling and fearful expressions.
  
  "Are you sure it's a good idea, First Centurion?" One of his subordinates dared asking him.
  
  "This ship has been capable of surviving the Sea of Monsters, and the monsters have not even been able to scratch its paint!"
  
  "Err...yes, but First Centurion, we weren't worried about the ship's capabilities. We were more worried about the fact Perseus Jackson has lived for months aboard it, and he's no doubt prepared infernal surprises in every compartment!"
  
  Octavian seethed. Perseus Jackson. It always was Perseus Jackson. The son of Poseidon stole his fame, his victories, and never had the good grace to die when it was convenient for him.
  
  "Ignore Perseus Jackson. You should be more worried about not failing Lord Jupiter and myself!"
  
  The debate was over, and Octavian began to run.
  
  The boats were here, and it wouldn't be difficult to reach the ships, though there were far fewer of them than he remembered.
  
  There may have been problems while they were away, but this was a minor matter. Both the Inevitable Doom and the Ave Caesar were there - he had not abandoned the idea to force all the surviving Legionnaires to swear themselves to him - and that was the most vital thing in his eyes.
  
  Three Legionnaires of his were lagging badly behind, their injuries slowing them down to an infuriating slug pace.
  
  It was-
  
  Many bonfires on the beach began to burn.
  
  And a girl Octavian had no difficulty to name walked out.
  
  Of course, the daughter of Hecate had already recovered from her exhaustion.
  
  "Lady Blackstone," the blonde-haired Legacy of Apollo showed her his most courteous smile, "I am pleased to-"
  
  "Shut up, worm."
  
  "Hey!" One of his Legionnaires protested. "You don't have the right-"
  
  "Cowards, oath-breakers, worms, scum of the seas, professional backstabbers," the sorceress continued, looking at them like they were excrements on her black boots. "Yes, I believe this describes very well what you are."
  
  A vicious smirk appeared on her lips. Octavian found it a strong similarity to those of Jackson's, and it was not something he liked at all.
  
  "That you were going to betray was not even a question, cowards." Flames danced upon her hands. "The real dilemma was to know whether or not you would survive long enough to return to the ships."
  
  Octavian snorted.
  
  "Big words, but there are thirteen of them, and you're alone. I don't think-"
  
  Something gigantic flew in the air. There was a horrible sound of metal meeting flesh. And as he turned his head to his right, one of his Legionnaires suddenly had an enormous axe imbedded into his head.
  
  The true Legionnaire collapsed like a bag of potatoes, dead in one blow.
  
  "Ah yes, you've kind of forgotten a detail: I'm not alone. Thank you, Asterius."
  
  "Killing the enemies of the short one is always interesting," the Minotaur exploded out of the sands where it had been hidden.
  
  "Okay, there are two of you," Octavian tried to stay his voice calm as the monster summoned back his huge axe. "Don't think it is going to save you!"
  
  "I have bathed in the Styx, you idiot," the blonde sorceress stared at him like he was beneath her, and this fuelled his hatred. "I am perfectly able to deal with twelve morons like you, but Jackson insisted Asterius had to stay, in case Blackbeard came back with you. The son of Ares is far more dangerous than you ever will be."
  
  "Excuse me?" He shouted.
  
  "You heard me, correctly," the sorceress looked at her nails. "You're a pathetic backstabber, in addition to being a False Augury. The only reason my boyfriend put you back in command is that he wanted to test the surviving Legionnaires like Keller. Those who stayed loyal were going to be trusted with far greater things. Judging by how few lackeys you have gathered, it seems it was at least a partial success."
  
  "KILL HER! KILL HER NOW!"
  
  But none of his men advanced.
  
  And when he tried to race forwards, Octavian was shocked. He couldn't move.
  
  What was happening with his feet?
  
  His feet were...painted in gold?
  
  No! NO! It was not paint, it was true gold!
  
  "My sister taught me another magical spell besides the divine translocation." The bitch had the gall to mock him! "I think she intended for me to use it on my boyfriend if he gets too annoying, but I think you are more appropriate targets. I think you already know its proper name."
  
  "Midas' Curse," the First Centurion grated out as paralysis seized his limbs, and every part of his legs and arms turned into a golden colour.
  
  "Yes, Midas' Curse."
  
  "That does mean we have only to be plunged into running water," Octavian drew his Gladius with all his will. "The tides will free us."
  
  "No, I don't think so. My sister tweaked the spell. There's still a manner to counter the Curse, but it is not something as evident as running water. Now shut up and take a nice pose. I want to tell him I have twelve nice golden statues ready for delivery."
  
  Octavian tried to scream his hatred, but the gold swallowed him.
  
  There was only gold...and then nothing.
  
  31 December 2006, the Island's Plateau, the remnants of Forge MP-42
  
  Clarisse was extremely amused when every Legionnaire of the Third disagreed with Jackson and refused to return to the ships.
  
  Well, the ones not wounded disagreed. The wounded Demigods and Demigoddesses didn't protest when they were told they had to escort Michael Yew, Elvis Knight, Kimiko, and Iphigenia.
  
  The latest was able to fight, but evidently, no one was really eager to let her fight without checking first what kind of disaster would strike. There was something extremely strange about her, though not as wrong as other things had been.
  
  Anyway, the seventy-one Legionnaires were all volunteers to continue.
  
  It wasn't much, when you considered that close one thousand and five hundred Legionnaires, plus support auxiliaries, had left New Byzantium months ago.
  
  It was even worse when you considered that the seventy-one soldiers were all from the Third Legion, which had sent 'only' a simple cohort of five hundred Legionnaires.
  
  They might be some pockets of survivors of the Twelfth across this island and elsewhere in the Sea of Monsters, but on blunt terms, the Fist Cohort of the Twelfth had been wiped out.
  
  But there were volunteers. They were courageous and worthy of respect.
  
  Others? Not so much.
  
  Despite the madness, for all the challenges and trials, the tens of thousands of automatons they had to fight, for all the extreme and bloody attrition, there were around one hundred and forty Pirates remaining alive.
  
  And they didn't want to volunteer, clearly.
  
  "Your Majesty," one which must have been a silver-tongued flattered, "for you are indeed your Majesty, King of Pirates! Surely you will not shed our blood when there are better alternatives! We are eager to return to the ships, transporting the loot, we will give you your double part, for it is your privilege-"
  
  "Congratulations," Perseus Jackson grinned, "you have just volunteered to promoted for the rank of lieutenant."
  
  The daughter of Ares knew that grin. It wasn't good news for the pirate.
  
  "Thank you, your Majesty!"
  
  "Lieutenant of the Second Gallowborne Division," the son of Poseidon clarified, baring his teeth.
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Judging by the scared expressions, yes, they had heard of what had happened to the 'First Gallowborne Division'.
  
  "You can't do that!"
  
  "We refuse!"
  
  "Kneel."
  
  The earth shook once again, and as much as they struggled, the pirates kneeled slowly but ineluctably. Well, some were outright prostrated on the ground, their limbs convulsing.
  
  "You seem," the leader of the Suicide Squad mused, "under a bit of misapprehension. If I used the term 'King' in all my proclamations, it is because it is what people understand these days. But in ancient times, the correct word would have been Turannos."
  
  The word felt heavy and terrible. And there was no need to ask for a translation of it.
  
  Everyone on the plateau knew very well what it meant.
  
  Absolute power gained by might, and only kept by the force.
  
  Tyrant.
  
  "I am not your friend, Gallowborne." The most dangerous Demigod of this generation spoke, never stopping his grin. "I am your commander, your master, and if you betray me again, your executioner. You will obey my commands, or as the Gods are my witness, I will order Bianca to crucify each and everyone you here, emulating Crassus and his legions at the end of the Spartacus' rebellion."
  
  Silence ruled.
  
  No one among the pirates was stupid to shout in denial anymore.
  
  "You are going to be the first to enter the last battle. You will take considerable casualties. But if you manage to survive it, I will let you leave the Sea of Monsters with a ship or two as rewards, along with your ill-gotten loot. GALLOWBORNE! TO WAR!"
  
  31 December 2006, God of the Forges' Fortress-Prison, the remnants of Forge MP-42
  
  No doubt many Olympians had not bet a single Drachma about them managing to survive for so long.
  
  But they were here.
  
  The thought made Annabeth giddy for a couple of seconds.
  
  Unfortunately, it didn't last.
  
  The pragmatic outlook this time had a lot to do with the final step.
  
  Yes, they trusted Jackson, or rather, they had stopped wondering how much madness fuelled him.
  
  The son of Poseidon was mad, and now it was too late to turn back.
  
  Since they were doomed anyway by virtue of being his accomplices, they may as well enjoy the ride.
  
  But the final step remained.
  
  The step that many Gods didn't have a solution for.
  
  Somewhere in the citadel they were facing, there was a Titaness.
  
  And they had no one powerful enough to face her.
  
  There was hope in some quarters, the daughter of Athena knew, that Hera and Calypso could together beat Tethys. She didn't share this optimism. The two were fighting as far from each other as they could. And if they did fight in perfect coordination, you could feel from here the power of Oceanus' wife.
  
  It was like staring at a slumbering leviathan.
  
  For the moment, it was calm.
  
  It wasn't going to last.
  
  And before that, of course, there was the citadel to storm.
  
  Blue walls. Ten metres-high. Towers of twelve metres that had an impressive quantity of machine guns and lethal weaponry taken from several forges.
  
  One couldn't forget that the last two hundred metres before the walls were completely barren.
  
  The ruins of several production lines and arsenals had been completely razed so that there was nothing to hide the progression of an army.
  
  And of course, the Titaness' army was manning the walls. There were quantities of jets so that the dolphins and other sea creatures stayed adequately wet. The blessings of Tethys ensured said water would not be used against them.
  
  "What do you think?" Perseus asked after lowering his orange-coloured spyglass.
  
  "I think we should have brought more siege engines." The grey-eyed Demigoddess replied dryly. "Which isn't difficult, for we have none."
  
  "Technically, we have human siege-breakers," the son of the Seas noted with obvious amusement.
  
  "Yes, sure. They are going to take a beating, your siege-breakers. Give the signal, we need something like ten or twenty missiles to destroy this wall."
  
  "We haven't any missiles left, unfortunately. Well, not of the conventional variety. Alas, using the unconventional models here would lead to...regrettable diplomatic consequences."
  
  "Please tell me you are joking."
  
  "I'm not. But have no fear, missiles are outdated anyway."
  
  "Oh great," a son of Bacchus nearby moaned. "Here comes the craziness again..."
  
  "It is not craziness!" Perseus said with a touch of exasperation in his voice. "It is a perfectly rational plan I saw in a movie."
  
  Dakota threw a Drachma to one of the daughters of Bellona. It was far from the only gold coin to change hands.
  
  "First, however, the proper forms of courtesy have to be respected." Drew Tanaka arrived and threw him a...a megaphone?
  
  "COMMANDER ISTHMUS!" If there was someone who failed to hear the Tyrant's voice on the island, they were assuredly dead. "WE HAVE BEEN LONG-LASTING FRIENDS YOU AND I! IN LIGHT OF THIS DEEP AND VIGOROUS FRIENDSHIP, I ADVISE YOU TO RAISE YOUR FINS IN SURRENDER AND OPEN YOUR GATES!"
  
  It said quite something that Annabeth wasn't in the least surprised that Perseus knew the identity of Tethys' field commander.
  
  It took quite a few seconds for the enemy to answer. And certainly for the big black dolphins on the rampart to find a megaphone for their leader.
  
  "WE KNOW YOUR PERFIDY, BIPEDAL MAMMAL! WE WILL FIGHT TO THE LAST!"
  
  "This is better than a movie," Leo Valdez noted with a chuckle.
  
  "I HAVE FED ROTTEN ALGAE TO YOUR SEA SNAKES, AQUARIUM DIVA!" Perseus was grinning, yes, you didn't even need to look at him to know that. "AND I HAVE NOT UNLEASHED MY GREATEST WEAPON! SURRENDER WHILE THERE IS STILL TIME!"
  
  "YOU HAVE NO MORE WAR-WINNING WEAPONS, UPJUMPED MONKEY!" Isthmus the Black Dolphin retorted. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!
  
  Perseus lowered his megaphone in a frown and turned his head to face her.
  
  "Am I dreaming, or did this arrogant tourist attraction forbid me to go somewhere?"
  
  "No, you're not dreaming."
  
  "How ridiculous," the mad Demigod grumbled. "I shall go where I want, when I want. I am a villain. Obstacles are just one more incentive to not stop."
  
  The megaphone was raised again.
  
  "THEN MY UNFORTUNATE FRIEND, YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE!"
  
  "WE WILL NOT OPEN OUR GATES!" His enemy squeaked angrily. "YOU ARE BLUFFING!"
  
  "RICO! KABOOM!"
  
  It was at that time that Annabeth realised she had not seen the penguins for the last thirty or forty minutes.
  
  KAAAAAAABOOOOOOM!
  
  The explosion deafened them all, for all that they had been told to wear earmuffs.
  
  By reflex, they all took cover in the ruins - and the reason they had not advanced further was now cleared to all.
  
  It was-
  
  It was-
  
  It was devastation. Someone - and Annabeth had a good idea of the guilty party - had placed a gigantic quantity of explosives under the wall, profiting no doubt from the fact that the island had more holes than a French cheese.
  
  Then it had been set to detonate here and now.
  
  Colossal amounts of rock were thrown into the sky. Flames spread, and consumed the war machinery.
  
  It was a growing, never-ending crescendo of explosions and shockwaves.
  
  It was death for all the dolphins and other sea creatures which had manned the walls.
  
  And when the island stopped trembling from all the explosions, when the smoke cleared, the one hundred metres-wide hole into the walls was there, proof nothing could resist the madness of some penguins commanded by Jackson.
  
  "I wasn't bluffing." Perseus gave back the megaphone to Drew, and for the life of her, Annabeth was truly aroused by his dangerous expression.
  
  "You weren't," she agreed. "Orders?"
  
  "The orders are simple. GALLOBORNE! ATTACK! SUICIDE SQUAD FOLLOW THEM INTO THE BREACH!"
  
  31 December 2006, the Throne Room of the Last Prison, ruins of Forge MP-42
  
  There was no doubt that in a few years, there were going to be many books written about the phenomenal battle which raged for several hours.
  
  There would be songs spread of how the Gallowborne pirates held the breach for thirty minutes, losing half their numbers, but allowing the Suicide Squad to destroy all the enemies trying to encircle them from the flanks and the rear.
  
  There would be tales of legend and horror retold of Bianca di Angelo crucifying the few cowards. How the daughter of Hades had then charged and walked upon the ashes of her enemies would never be forgotten by the terrified dolphins who surrendered.
  
  There would be a lot of rumours, wrong and true.
  
  But in many ways, the outcome of the battle had been decided when the walls were blasted apart.
  
  The defensive position had been breached, and a large number of defenders died with it.
  
  That the following slaughter had lasted for so long had more to do with the general exhaustion of everyone involved.
  
  By now, it was more than twenty-six hours since Kymopoleia had been called, and though they had taken many, many rests between different skirmishes, everyone had been brought to his or her very limits.
  
  They were in no shape to fight another battle.
  
  But they did continue. The entire Sea of Monsters must have heard of the battle by now.
  
  Enemy troops must be on the way to reinforce the enemy. They had to finish this.
  
  They wouldn't be given a second chance.
  
  Hera knew all of that and far more things.
  
  She couldn't help but hesitate before the large doors of Water and Fire standing in her way.
  
  It was only an instant of hesitation.
  
  There were several Demigods mere metres behind her, destroying the last guardian automatons - Minotaur-sized and shaped, these mechanical creations. She couldn't afford to be seen as hesitant.
  
  She was-
  
  She didn't know who she was anymore.
  
  The claimant Goddess opened the doors.
  
  A warm wind blew in her face.
  
  As she advanced, it rapidly grew worse.
  
  There were pools everywhere, and naturally they were at a temperature one would only find in hot baths.
  
  Yeah, the 'training' of Perseus in the Forge of All Perils suddenly made a lot more sense.
  
  There was steam and a near-infernal atmosphere.
  
  There was water and fire.
  
  Hera knew the Suicide Squad was following her. She listened to their exclamations of surprise, and while she did take them into account, she kept her head focused onwards.
  
  The pools grew rarer after several metres, and the final part of the throne room was revealed.
  
  And yes, it was a throne room, for there was a throne.
  
  It was also a prison seat, for the mechanical bronze at its hottest temperatures couldn't burn the algae-looking chains of blue spreading like a vast spider web on both sides.
  
  The fallen Queen of the Gods stopped five metres away from the throne. She wouldn't go further; she could acknowledge a massive trap when she saw one, thank you very much.
  
  "Hephaestus," my son burned the tongue, but she didn't dare voicing it. She had done too many things, most of them horrible, to earn the right to speak the words. And besides, it was hardly a private reunion.
  
  "Hera," the God of the Forges nodded emotionlessly, "and the Suicide Squad. I'm going to be honest: I didn't think you would reach me alive."
  
  "It wasn't exactly simple." The ground trembled as a dune worth of sand flew somewhere in the distance, crushing what had been a bastion of the defenders. This island was really going to be thoroughly destroyed by the end of the day.
  
  "We had to be very, very creative." A familiar voice intervened, and less than five seconds later, Perseus Jackson glided on a wave before landing next to her. "Lord Hephaestus."
  
  "Perseus Jackson." The God of Smiths didn't sound displeased or enthusiast; he merely returned the gesture of good courtesy. "I have watched your latest exploits with great interest."
  
  "I'm sure." The son of Poseidon smirked. "Well, Lord Hephaestus, you're safe and sound. That's what matters. I now presume we can begin the process of-"
  
  There was a fresher air current, and vast doors on the right which had been sealed opened on the fly, a feat most mortals would have been unable to accomplish.
  
  "The Titaness Tethys," Hephaestus announced.
  
  New weapons were unsheathed.
  
  Muscles shook.
  
  Sweat which had nothing to do with tiredness or the steam floating into the air covered many hands and foreheads.
  
  "Truly I had not expected so many visitors to reach my humble above."
  
  Hera instinctively grimaced hearing that voice.
  
  It was exactly the same sea song as in her memories.
  
  "Your weapons, gentlemen and gentlewomen. Surely you are not going to offer a disastrous spectacle in front of an Olympian?"
  
  An arrow of pure Night struck without warning.
  
  A cascade of water parried it effortlessly, before drowning the attack into a pool.
  
  "Calypso," and as the steam diminished, the Titaness of the Seas was revealed, in grand pirate attire.
  
  At least, Hera supposed it was the look Tethys had gone for. The rather large hat, the yellow parrot, and all the green attire straight from the Golden Age of Piracy were quite noticeable, after all. The long extravagant green boots looked like some huge reptiles had been killed to make them too.
  
  "Nothing to say, mother?"
  
  Eyebrows rose.
  
  "You deserve very much a spanking for attacking me before the courtesies were observed," the Mistress of the Seas replied bluntly. "Clearly, I spoiled you too much when you were a child."
  
  "Spoiled?" Clearly, whatever the future Third Queen of Hell had expected to hear, it wasn't it. "SPOILED?"
  
  Tethys was unimpressed by the voice rising.
  
  "You were capricious, violent, and every time I didn't fulfil your wishes quickly, you ran to the Underworld to see your father, hoping he would satisfy your caprices. A situation that doesn't lack of irony, given your new status."
  
  Hera heard Perseus chuckle.
  
  "Oh, that's pure gold!"
  
  "You didn't know Atlas was the Titan of the Underworld and Death before the Titanomachy?"
  
  "I had my suspicions," the son of Poseidon admitted. "But I had not the confirmation. Many of my best sources weren't alive then, and those who were didn't want to speak about it. And I hadn't the opportunity to check the matter with my Lord Uncle recently."
  
  "Hmm..."
  
  "That doesn't excuse your inaction, mother!" Calypso wasn't willing to restrain herself in words, no matter how public the debate. "You stood by when I was imprisoned. You stood by when Othrys was destroyed! You stood by and-"
  
  "And I would do it again, for Kronos' rule had long stopped being anything but cruel when he ate his first daughter," Tethys sharply spoke.
  
  That, at least, cut completely the voice of the former Titaness of Drakons.
  
  "You...what?"
  
  "I stayed neutral because, frankly, neither my husband nor myself believed in Kronos anymore. He was drowning in rancour, feckless jealously, baseless paranoia, and delivered insults to everyone just because he could. He was my brother; I wasn't about to raise my weapons against him. But I certainly wasn't going to help him when he suffered exactly the consequences I warned him about long ago. And I certainly didn't mourn him when the Olympians carved him apart and threw the pieces into the Pit. He really deserved it."
  
  "You-"
  
  "As for why I didn't help you escape your prison," Tethys continued in an implacable tone, "it was because, while the lack of respect the Olympians had for their own word was awful, you also deserved a punishment fitting for your crimes, daughter."
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  "Shall we speak of the missing continent, daughter? Or how Crete was once four times the size it is currently today? Should we speak of what happened when you fed mortals to your Drakons?"
  
  Calypso violently blushed.
  
  "I...that doesn't excuse everything. I surrendered in good faith, mother!"
  
  "So you did," the Titaness of the Seas smiled benevolently. "You are not the only one to deserve a spanking for your horrible behaviour. Isn't that right, Hera?"
  
  "I made some mistakes." She admitted.
  
  "Mistakes? Daughter, I taught you everything you needed to know about your great potential. I told you that you had not the patience or the temper to claim the Throne of Marriage. I warned you that your youngest blood brother were like cats and dogs, and your personalities were incompatible outside of the moments were you had hate-sex."
  
  Hera wished at that moment the earth swallowed her to spare her from the humiliation. She knew she was blushing, everyone could see she was blushing! Please someone stop that conversation!
  
  "That didn't give you the right to imprison my son."
  
  "I am a Titaness, daughter," the eyes of the Sea pierced her very soul, "if I don't try to right your wrongs, who will? You both deserve a spanking-"
  
  Six enormous maws looking like those of the Hydra attacked.
  
  There was an explosion of water, and the offensive failed, without managing to even throw dust on Tethys' clothes.
  
  "Don't listen to her!" the daughter of Atlas growled. "We can beat her!"
  
  The effect would have been better if the next instant, she hadn't been smacked around by an enormous wave.
  
  "You think you can beat me? Daughter, your arrogance needs to be kicked down in a significant manner."
  
  The air suffocated with power. Many Demigods shouted in pain.
  
  "I am Tethys, Titaness of the Ancient Seas and Freshwater, Mistress of the Coral Palace. I helped my brother kill the Sky! Let me show how vast the difference of power is between you and me."
  
  It was a Clash of Titans.
  
  Unfortunately, it was a spanking too.
  
  It began with Miranda crashing down part of the ceiling and arriving in a tornado of sand.
  
  The execution was perfect.
  
  It didn't prevent her from receiving six well-aimed water spears directly in her chest. If she hadn't had the essence of a Drakon in her body, the daughter of Demeter would be very, very dead. As it was, she was knocked out of the fight.
  
  The others didn't fare better.
  
  Calypso's first attack was absorbed with a desultory facility, and the retaliation sent her crashing into a wall. Jade was sent colliding with the island some distance away by a shark construct.
  
  Then the Titaness decided to become serious.
  
  A terrible shockwave of raw power was hurled at them, and most of the Suicide Squad was brought low in a couple of heartbeats.
  
  The former Tyrant had to anchor himself with his Trident to avoid the same fate.
  
  "Clarisse! Give the anvil to Leo! He will able to-"
  
  He had to interrupt himself, for parrying the multitude of dangerous daggers hurled at him took priority.
  
  "Now that wasn't so nice. Hera. Winter power and freeze them. And for the love of treachery-"
  
  This was the moment Tethys chose to collapse most of the ceiling upon their heads.
  
  It took a considerable application of Hydrokinesis to not be reduced to a bloody pulp.
  
  "Absolutely not nice," Perseus commented. "Now where were we?"
  
  Calypso attacked again, this time from underneath.
  
  The attack this time was far more powerful, and tried to combine Night with boiling water and certainly lava.
  
  It was banished back into her face.
  
  "Leo! Use your flames! Password is-"
  
  He had to admit, he didn't even see the next attack coming.
  
  And yes, it hurt.
  
  Minor good news: he fell into a pool and thus began to regenerate very quickly.
  
  Very bad news: the water was also trying to strangle him.
  
  "Cease," the son of Poseidon spoke. "Obey my will. Expel!"
  
  The attack was bloody terrifying in his humble opinion. It may have seriously wounded a creature like Alcyoneus, should the Elder Giant not be on his 'home territory'. It would have killed some of the greatest monsters in existence.
  
  Tethys had merely to use her little finger to stop it.
  
  "Disappointing."
  
  Hera was sent flying like a doll in the middle of a storm, her attempt to create a blizzard shattered in a second.
  
  If anything, it was Bianca who created the most threatening attack.
  
  A phenomenal quantity of Hellfire was unleashed, and this time, their enemy took several steps back, while she had remained completely immobile in the first stages.
  
  Then it felt as the entire Sea of Monsters poured into the throne room, and hope died with it.
  
  "Annabeth. Eta-Eta-Omega-Omega."
  
  "That's your password?" The daughter of Athena said in a voice filled with exhaustion and pain. "You didn't go for originality!"
  
  "I was pressed for time, okay!" Perseus protested as a good part of his X-Suit was shredded by the attacks of the Titaness. "The Huntresses are to cover the retreat! We can't-"
  
  Richard Grant was thrown like an arrow at Ellen and Jenna, and damn, that must have hurt...one could always hope he had not been punctured by their enchanted projectiles.
  
  The Titaness unleashed her powers, and everything drowned.
  
  Leo was deathly afraid.
  
  There had been many conversations about the power of a certain Titaness when they were aboard the Inevitable Doom. Some of them had been quite pessimistic.
  
  They hadn't been pessimistic. The Suicide Squad was in the process of taking a beating. No, it was worse than that.
  
  Leo was sweating. No, it was-
  
  Okay, he was panicking.
  
  There was no one for...and what he was supposed to do with an anvil of all things? Forging a weapon? The Titaness was going to kill him before he had the chance!
  
  "Eta-Eta-Omega-Omega?" the black-haired Demigod tried. The golden anvil shone brightly for a second, and then...nothing. It was still an anvil.
  
  "Perseus, it isn't-"
  
  Leo grimaced as he saw the son of Poseidon be hurled again from one end of the throne room to another.
  
  "You have to use your flames." The sounds of battle suddenly dimmed.
  
  "Dad?"
  
  The God of the Forges sighed loudly.
  
  "The anvil is not important per se, my son. It is the Orichalcum which is critical."
  
  "I don't understand," Leo admitted.
  
  The world around them seemed to slow down. The battle seemed to go on slow motion now.
  
  "Your friend is smart. He understood before this battle began that you don't have the power to break my chains. The former Titaness of Drakons had it once, but no more. You would need the King of Olympus to be present in person for that. Since you don't have someone powerful enough to do the job, melting the Orichalcum and pouring it upon my chains is your best hope."
  
  Leo focused and unleashed his flames...and while the anvil began to warm, there was no sign it was anywhere near its melting point.
  
  "This...this isn't supposed to take hours, right?"
  
  "If you use your fire like you do? Try centuries." The face his father showed him was sadness infinite. "Orichalcum is a special type of Gold extracted from the moons of Saturn, and then mixed with our very ichor, my son. Mortals are not capable of wielding flames with the power to melt it once it is solidified."
  
  "The flames of life, right?" Annabeth intervened, making Leo almost jump in surprise.
  
  "Indeed."
  
  Leo cleared his throat.
  
  "Yeah, err...and without the metaphors?"
  
  "It isn't a metaphor, my son." His father's expression of pity suddenly took all its meaning. "You have to burn your very life to have a chance of success."
  
  "But, without-"
  
  Annabeth revealed a chest Leo was intimately familiar with.
  
  "Oh. He gave you the Heart of the Forge."
  
  "It may give you a chance. Though from the few of my children who went successfully through the operation, I can tell you it will be akin to be tortured and having your insides turned into molten metal."
  
  "You're...you're horrible at reassuring people," Leo answered. And he couldn't help but release everything he had on his heart. "You never came home for mom's funeral. You never told us anything."
  
  For a moment, red eyes burned...then the fires died down, and something he couldn't decipher passed upon his father's face.
  
  "I am not good with people," Hephaestus apologised. "I don't know how to behave with them. The machines? I can program them easily to answer my commands. My family? I don't know what they want. Some want perfect families, like my mother. But this is a very specific definition of perfection. Others want me to say the truth at all times, but don't like the results when I am honest. I prefer to stay in my Forges when I have the choice. It is...less painful for everyone."
  
  Some of the words woke up feelings Leo had thought of several times. Others, however, he disagreed with.
  
  For all his inexperience in some matters, the young Demigod couldn't help but think that sometimes, immortality really didn't sound like a good thing. Oh yeah, he was going to blame Hera again for a lot of the problems of his father and some stuff.
  
  "Okay..." he swallowed. "It is going to hurt. What am I supposed to do?"
  
  Tethys had to admit, it had been a long time since she didn't have such fun.
  
  "Your technique has gotten very sloppy, daughter," the Titaness said as she plunged her sabre into Calypso's arm.
  
  "I am done listening to your lessons, you old-"
  
  The Mistress of the Ancient Seas really didn't feel guilty at all throwing a bar of soap in her daughter's mouth.
  
  "If you had indeed learned said lessons," Tethys pointed out with amusement as Calypso spat bubbles, "it would be your right and your privilege. As it is, it only underlines your immaturity. I'm going to have to have to pass accords with your husband. Oh, and Hera, sneaking upon me like that. It won't work."
  
  Though she supposed using spring as an illusion like that earned some points for originality.
  
  Tethys raised a finger, and the former Queen of Olympus went to take a bath the hard way.
  
  One wave and ten spears, and she got rid of the daughter of Hades.
  
  With plenty of the Demigods and Demigoddesses fleeing this fight they had not a chance to survive, the number of opponents had significantly decreased.
  
  So why was she feeling that-
  
  Ah.
  
  Illusion.
  
  Tethys compressed her power, before expelling a fraction of her divine aura into a distorted chorus.
  
  Predictably, some part of the battlefield grew hazy before vanishing entirely.
  
  Before she could click her fingers, the steam vanished.
  
  And to her surprise, Hephaestus was already almost freed from her chains.
  
  "Oh, dear," she said as the tiny mortal that had to be a son of the Forge collapsed, skin fuming in what had to be excruciating agony. But the damage had been done. A river of molten Orichalcum was corroding the restraints, and until that very moment, magic had hidden that the damage took place. "That was a good strategy, but I am afraid it must end-"
  
  This time the attack was one she had to take seriously.
  
  "WISH!"
  
  There was no time to evade it, and Tethys had only a second to prepare.
  
  To her anger, the blade of Celestial Bronze severed a good part of her hat, and cut out a few hair.
  
  "I liked that hat." She glared as the sword failed to do more than leave a scratch upon her so-far unblemished skin.
  
  "I liked my Trident and you broke it in half," yes, this Demigod was a son of the Seas, that much couldn't be denied.
  
  "It's time I stop playing, then."
  
  Hephaestus' chains were breaking one by one, and with Calypso still able to last for a while, Tethys knew it wasn't going to be an easy battle.
  
  It might be a bit insulting for her opponents, but she had truly been holding back.
  
  No longer.
  
  The earth of the island crumbled, and the Sea came with her.
  
  Vast metallic columns fell into the depths.
  
  Statues were broken.
  
  Automatons which had survived this terrible battle at last stopped functioning.
  
  Her servants swam away, for they knew what was coming.
  
  Tethys attacked, and she did it mercilessly.
  
  Hephaestus changed his freed arm into an enormous magma cannon, but he was too late.
  
  With a punch, she threw the Lightning Thief a kilometre away - the girl had somehow managed to resist the previous assaults, and this time Tethys wanted to be sure her hell flames were no longer a factor.
  
  Using the speed she had refused to use until mere seconds ago, her cloak drenched the sand-powered girl and imprisoned her into a bubble filled to the brink with water. Instantly, the sand turned out to be the greatest weakness of the Demigoddess.
  
  Parrying the magma spat by the divine cannon, unfortunately, was not as simple. The element was rather weak; Hephaestus was dispassionate about such things but-
  
  Tethys grabbed Perseus Jackson by the throat before he could stab her in the back.
  
  "One does not attack a Lady when she has her back turned, ruffian. I see my daughters are not the only ones to deserve a spanking."
  
  "I...apologise...then," the tone was not apologetic at all, "my...Lady."
  
  "You are not-" Tethys saw his grinning. What had he done this time? She released slightly her hold on his throat.
  
  "I apologise for what I am about to do. You committed a mistake, oh Mistress of the Ancient Seas."
  
  It was a trap. Of course, it was a trap. But since she didn't see anything that could save him, Tethys felt she had to ask.
  
  "What was my mistake?"
  
  "I have a second penguin."
  
  A second later, the magma exploded under the very throne room where she was battling.
  
  Water evaporated.
  
  And this time, her magnificent hat was reduced to cinders.
  
  Someone was going to pay for that.
  
  31 December 2006, the Core of Forge MP-42
  
  Perseus would have cackled, if it didn't hurt so much.
  
  "May the Gods bless explosive-loving penguins," the son of Poseidon managed to utter, before spitting.
  
  A second later, he realised it was blood that had left his mouth.
  
  And then he needed Dakota to stand on his legs again.
  
  "I'm surprised you didn't run like many others."
  
  "I emptied a full bottle of rum, Jackson. Right now, I am completely drunk," the son of Bacchus replied seriously. "And it is seriously a good thing, because unless it's the rum giving me hallucinations, I think I am watching a gigantic castle of magma atop the caldera of a volcano."
  
  "Ahem." Perseus cleared his throat. "You're not hallucinating, my drunken lieutenant. We've been teleported under the island, where the God of the Forges rule as Lord and Master. What you're seeing is the source of his power in this region. Welcome to the Forge of the Seas of Monsters."
  
  Needless to say, if Hephaestus wasn't protecting them, the majority of his companions would have been transformed into well-roasted meat in mere seconds.
  
  There was an enormous lake of lava everywhere he looked. The industrial platform where they were standing was pretty much the only place not in fire and protected by anti-heat shields.
  
  There were automatons extracting ore from the molten rocks. There was industry beyond your wildest dreams and nightmares here. It was both a testimony to the fury of the Earth and the prowess of technology in lethal conditions.
  
  And they were here, at the end of the road.
  
  Most Demigods and participants hadn't been teleported with him. Of those who were left, there was Drew, living weapon of black diamonds, probably one of the rare beings who could survive here without help. There was Calypso, losing bit by bit her human appearance, as her skin covered in black scales, and her eyes burned with the power of the Night. There was Hera, who looked as exhausted, if not more, as he was. And there was Annabeth, who somehow remained sane, for a certain definition of it.
  
  The volcano rumbled, and a hideous black giant emerged from the lava caldera. He was nearly ten-metres tall, and his expression was terrible. It took several seconds, the time for him to conjure an enormous hammer, for the former Tyrant to realise it was truly Hephaestus, God of the Forges, in his primal element.
  
  "The Titaness is coming," the Smith God announced as his size diminished to a more 'modest' three metres and his appearance was restored to one of a hunchback artisan. "I'm doing my best to keep her away, but it is a fight I can't win."
  
  "Why didn't you flee, then?" Hera asked. Unlike us, you can spread your Avatars and lead us on a crazy pursuit in the depths of the planet. She will never be able to catch you."
  
  "He's not fleeing," the leader of the Suicide Squad guessed, "because one of his Avatars is busy replacing his son's heart nearby. Am I right?"
  
  "You are," Hephaestus confirmed, though the fact of being right gave him no positive feelings this time. "He burned for me; I will burn for him in turn. Great work deserves great rewards."
  
  If only Zeus believed in the same philosophy...but then, he wouldn't be Zeus.
  
  Hephaestus grimaced towards something they couldn't see, but Perseus presumed it was likely Tethys smashing her way through fire and magma.
  
  "We don't have much time. If you have a plan, now would be a good time to start it."
  
  "I have a good plan," Perseus began truthfully. "You are not going to like it."
  
  He threw the parchment he had taken in the vault what felt an eternity ago, but in all likelihood wasn't longer than a couple of hours.
  
  "You acquired one of the copies of my contract of marriage?" Immortal eyes looked at him with interest. "I suppose it makes sense that you were able to find one next to my Orichalcum anvil, yes. But what is the point?"
  
  "Article Twelve," Perseus replied in all simplicity.
  
  Hephaestus frowned. It was really like a mountain trying to remember how to look human. The poor Olympian must not have a lot of friends, these days.
  
  "It won't work," the God of Forges replied in a far more hesitant voice. "Only Hera can give you that sort of authority, and she is far too weak to do so. You need a powerful deity to serve as Binder."
  
  "Let's assume I have a Binder for the great purpose." He wasn't going to grin, not when everything was going to be decided in a matter of life and death in the next seconds. "Are you willing to participate? Otherwise this entire affair isn't worth debating over, and it is better we're all sent away before the Titaness comes calling."
  
  "Yes," Hephaestus said after long seconds. So long they were an eternity in several aspects. "I am willing to try. This situation must be resolved, one way or another."
  
  "In that case," Perseus respectfully nodded. "There is only one actor left which must give her agreement. Hera?"
  
  "I'm afraid I don't understand."
  
  "A last Season, and the price is Marriage."
  
  There was no great oration, no scream of defiance.
  
  Maybe the Primordial of Fate was listening to them? Maybe higher powers had decided it was the moment to act? Or maybe it was simply Hera collapsing of exhaustion?
  
  It had been a long series of clashes, after all.
  
  In the end, it didn't matter.
  
  The former Queen of the Gods fell to her knees.
  
  And a small orb of golden light erupted from her chest.
  
  "I stand here in the Domain of Fire," Perseus said with no humour in his voice, "as the Champion of Love. I call you in this desperate hour. Twice you have answered my call, and now with the third time the hour of Apotheosis is here. Marriage can't stand as the foundation of Divorce, and what has been broken must be repaired. Hear my prayer, and descends on golden wings. ISIS!"
  
  He closed his eyes right on time, for the flash was truly extremely powerful. Fortunately, everyone else had correctly interpreted his silent warning, and no one had been incinerated.
  
  Evidently, Cleopatra was here. Or what was left of Cleopatra. She was now mostly Isis. What she wore was strangely similar to the X-Suits they had donned several times, except the attire was gold, with an enormous cleavage, and looked far more proper for sunbathing than go monster-hunting.
  
  Her jewellery, be it diadem, earrings, or the typical Egyptian collar-thing around her throat were all radiant gold. And her hair were a long and perfect mane of onyx colour.
  
  Before anyone could say anything or act in any circumstance, the small orb of Marriage plunged between her breasts and was absorbed.
  
  "The call is answered," Isis said, and though she was at least twenty metres away, Perseus felt her burn with divine power. Their two previous interactions had brought her incredibly close to true Godhood now. "Speak, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "I stand you, Goddess of Loving Marriages, to report a grave injustice. I have, after a long investigation and multiple interrogations of prime witnesses, concluded that the marriage of Lord Hephaestus here is a sham!"
  
  Hephaestus a second later made sure the copy of the marriage contract returned into his hands.
  
  "Therefore Lady Aphrodite leaves me no choice, as her fierce and devoted Champion, to proclaim myself Adjudicator for the Contract and demand your intervention! Article Twelve must be invoked!"
  
  There was a flash, and the contract disappeared from his hands, to reappear into the Goddess' hands, who read it in the blink of an eye.
  
  "It is within your rights as Champion of Love and Adjudicator, yes." Isis turned her head towards Hephaestus. "Is one of the parties willing to pay the price?"
  
  "I will," Hephaestus grunted. "I swear it on the Styx, the Earth Mother, and the Fallen Sky."
  
  This time, the volcano was on the receiving end of an earthquake of at least a magnitude of at least seven.
  
  Dakota had to catch Annabeth and Hera.
  
  The fire increased around them.
  
  "And the price?"
  
  "Autumn as penalty for the guilty party," Perseus had known from the start Aphrodite would never relinquish it voluntarily; this time she would not be given the opportunity to utter a pathetic excuse. "Once the change of nature is harmonised, take everything which is left."
  
  Evidently, Isis was going to have her full Apotheosis with that.
  
  And on this, it began to rain. Tethys was coming, and the barriers of the Forge Core were breaking.
  
  "The terms are acceptable." Isis accepted, and just like that, Perseus heard something loud and heavy snap into the fabric of reality, as something that could have been was forever altered beyond recognition.
  
  The Fates must be utterly furious now...and it brought a smile on his face.
  
  Drew cut slightly her finger, and one drop of blood fell.
  
  "Answer, oh Unfaithful Wife. You have forgotten your own pacts, but the oaths are binding! You can't deny your true nature! Answer or forfeit everything you are! APHRODITE!"
  
  This time, the pink blast was accompanied by a powerful smell of flowers and perfume. Rose plus two other things?
  
  Bah, it was just some musings of his.
  
  What really mattered is that Aphrodite had arrived as per the plan...
  
  Though her being gloriously naked and having her body covered in olive oil among other things hadn't been something he foresaw.
  
  If he blushed, no one would blame him right?
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  If the Goddess of Love could have killed him with her eyes alone, he would have been on his way to Hades' realm in the blink of an eye. Fortunately, she had not that kind of power.
  
  Fortunately, for the blue eyes were filled with rage. Her face was twisted in an expression of pure loathing.
  
  And would it kill her to summon some clothes? Nakedness like that was indecency itself!
  
  Armbands materialised on Isis' arms and on Aphrodite's, and chains of Orichalcum followed.
  
  Just the time to breathe out, and Perseus felt new golden armbands be summoned on his arms too.
  
  Soon they were chained together...but nobody would have believed it to be an equal relationship.
  
  And Aphrodite certainly wasn't fooled.
  
  "I am going to rip your head from your shoulders, treacherous bastard!" the Olympian Goddess of Love declared with all the venom of a snake colony. In the mean time, most of the Suicide Squad members present were busy blushing like tomatoes for the state of nakedness didn't change, and with all this oil and the light of flames, it was extremely distracting. "I know I shouldn't have trusted you-"
  
  As amusing as it would have been to listen to an angry monologue, he hadn't the time. It was raining in the volcano, and the sound of the Seas was a bad sign. Tethys was going to be here soon, and she was far more redoubtable than Aphrodite.
  
  "Article Twelve has been invoked. The Price is Autumn."
  
  Unlike Khione and Persephone, who certainly had had enough time to prepare what they wanted to discard, Aphrodite certainly couldn't boast the same thing. The orb of power extracted was twice the size of what Hera had ceded with Marriage.
  
  It might not seem a lot - an Olympian was easily a hurricane-sized mountain of power - but no God or Goddess of Olympus would have wanted to give away so much power to Hera.
  
  Alas, she had not the choice.
  
  The last of the four Seasons slammed into the former Queen of the Gods, and Hera's hair instantly became brown-red. Her eyes begun to burn with the orange-reddish colour of autumn leaves. Her near-destroyed X-Suit was repaired and became white, green-gold, light green, and red-orange.
  
  Obviously, Hera was still very far from being a proper Goddess - by his best estimate, she must be as strong as him right now - but compared to the useless cannon-fodder which had begun this Great Quest, it was like looking at night and day.
  
  "You will pay for that," clearly, Aphrodite didn't like being in a position of vulnerability. Good. Perseus hadn't liked either when she refused to honour her part of their bargain. "I hope you will enjoy men and women lusting and hating you at the same time, Perseus Jackson! I will make your life a living hell the moment I am out of this-"
  
  "Lord Hephaestus?"
  
  "I consent," two golden armbands appeared on his arms, and more magical chains were summoned into existence.
  
  "Let Fire and Passion merge," Isis sang. "Let Lust and Dedication find joy at last. The promises sworn will be upheld. The oaths will be mended. Let them find harmony into the pyres of their Domains."
  
  Two objects came out of the lava lake.
  
  They were immense and dark, and from where he looked, they could be easily mistaken as something between an iron maiden and a sarcophagus.
  
  And you couldn't exactly miss the chains and the tubes that indicated the objects communicated each other.
  
  "NO! NO I REFUSE! I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS!"
  
  "But I did." Hephaestus declared solemnly. "So what will it be, Aphrodite? Do we go ahead? Or do you renounce, and accept the consequences of a divorce?"
  
  Naturally, the latter would be tantamount to give Isis full blessings for a total usurpation. One that had almost one hundred percent chance of working.
  
  Aphrodite lowered her head, though her long blonde hair shivered with her rage.
  
  "I...I consent. But I will not forget this!"
  
  Had he been not so tired, Perseus would have shrugged. Threats like this one, he dealt with ten of them every morning commanding the Suicide Squad.
  
  Hephaestus and Aphrodite disappeared for a second, before reappearing respectively into the open 'iron maiden-sarcophagus' that they were destined for.
  
  The black objects closed into a sinister grinding sound, before descending into the lava.
  
  For several seconds, everyone stayed silent and watched the now-untroubled surface of the caldera. Well, not untroubled: there were geysers of fire and other disastrous phenomena playing out everywhere.
  
  But the ritual wasn't responsible for that.
  
  And then there was a small sound behind him.
  
  The sound of hands clapping.
  
  Perseus grimaced.
  
  "That was certainly an intriguing ritual," Tethys spoke. "But if we returned to the little disagreement we were so busy fighting for a few minutes ago?"
  
  They were dead.
  
  They were so dead.
  
  Dakota was drunk, but even being drunk wasn't enough to find any kind of optimism in his chest.
  
  The Titaness was here.
  
  Tethys was standing here, in her usual attire, sabre in hand, minus the hat.
  
  And they had just sent two Olympians away, who were now unable to intervene.
  
  "Nothing to say, Perseus Jackson?"
  
  When the leader of the Suicide Squad spoke, the Mistress of the Ancient Seas wasn't the recipient of his command.
  
  "Calypso."
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "Take Hera and Drew with you, and run."
  
  "Are you sure?" there was no arrogance left in the daughter of Atlas' voice. Then again, she was covered in a multitude of cuts, her nose was broken, and most of her regeneration powers weren't able to heal her anymore.
  
  "I am. Go!"
  
  There was a flash of Night, and the three disappeared. At that very moment, the son of Bacchus wished very much he had been included among that number of 'people leaving the party'.
  
  Tethys chuckled but didn't try to block their escape.
  
  "I can find them, you know. Especially as they didn't really go far. You are depriving yourself of a great deal of firepower for a questionable strategy, Perseus Jackson."
  
  A new sword of Celestial Bronze came out of its scabbard. For a second, Dakota wondered how many the son of Poseidon had in his possession, for he had broken at least ten weapons in this Titanomachy fight alone.
  
  Perseus Jackson laughed, and the sound echoed, far stronger than his scorched voice had been seconds ago.
  
  "Why would I need their firepower?" Mad laughter followed the question. "I am the Adjudicator of Love! Tremble Titaness! For during the short amount of time this ritual is taking place, and only within the boundaries of this place of power, I am unbeatable!"
  
  There should have been retorts that he was mad.
  
  For this was madness incarnate.
  
  But as Dakota turned his head, he saw the being who had been a Queen of Egypt lose her mortal shell. Mortal flesh was disappearing, and radiance came.
  
  This was-
  
  Dakota ran to place himself behind Perseus, and he saw Annabeth Chase doing the same.
  
  And at the same time, the son of Poseidon was tied to this soon-to-be Goddess.
  
  His wounds were healing at a speed that shouldn't be possible.
  
  "It was a mistake to come here, Tethys."
  
  "Innovative," the Titaness conceded. "But not sufficient."
  
  A million spears were conjured, and Dakota threw himself away, not that it was necessary; somehow, all the attacks missed Annabeth and him.
  
  Perseus Jackson was projected into the lava.
  
  "No way-"
  
  There was a blast of light.
  
  And Perseus Jackson was propelled out of the caldera, surfing on a wave of magma and molten rock.
  
  "As I was saying second ago," the maniacal smile returned. "I am unbeatable!"
  
  Suddenly, the Titaness looked far less confident.
  
  "The ritual is making you immune to all the Domains of the God and Goddesses involved."
  
  And among them was Hephaestus, meaning nothing in this volcano was lethal for him anymore.
  
  It was-
  
  It was pure genius, Dakota acknowledged.
  
  "Now," Perseus smirked and he revealed a bottle of rum in his hand. "You should feel honoured. In general, I avoid drinking alcohol. Lord Dionysus, you know I have served you loyally, I swear it on the depths of madness of this Great Mad Quest!"
  
  The bottle touched his lips, and right at that time, Dakota understood why he had not been evacuated.
  
  There was a bottle of Eleutherian Wine in his hand.
  
  He groaned.
  
  "And I can't even blame Hera for this one." The son of Bacchus mourned. "Fine. This entire Quest is just madness, after all. If we have to die, let it all be a party I won't remember!"
  
  Annabeth wanted to say the last act of this battle was going to be a masterful application of proper tactics combined with flawless timing.
  
  It was anything but that.
  
  Dakota and Perseus charged the Titaness, and the two were shrouded in purple energy reeking of madness.
  
  It had all the subtlety of Ares' children, or more accurately, the total lack of it.
  
  And it was with Annabeth holding an artefact which allowed the two boys to keep some shreds of their original control.
  
  It didn't mean much.
  
  But it was enough for them to hurl themselves at the Titaness like wine-coloured meteors.
  
  Predictably, Tethys counter-attacked.
  
  The power of the Seas struck, overwhelming and terrible, and the volcano was rocked by colossal explosions.
  
  But for all her murderous attacks, the Titaness was just able to throw the two Demigods about a kilometre away.
  
  Perseus and Dakota charged a second time.
  
  Tethys tried to smack them again.
  
  Her mark was true.
  
  But this time, the power repelled them by only half the distance.
  
  Cascades flowed, and a million weapons of sharp water came into existence.
  
  It only gave her a few seconds of respite.
  
  Jackson had not lied. As long as this ritual went on, he indeed could not be beaten.
  
  Matters were iffier when it came to Dakota, but given how fast and resistant the son of Bacchus was, you didn't have to wonder why other Gods had felt Dionysus was a worthy contender for a Throne among the Council.
  
  Tethys didn't relent.
  
  The two black-haired boys were drowned. They were impaled by thousands of water spears.
  
  But they ever got closer.
  
  And fatally, something had to give.
  
  The sword of Celestial Bronze came at an improbable angle, and the Titaness had to parry it with her bare hands.
  
  Time seemed to stop.
  
  For despite the sheer toughness of a Titan, a drop of golden ichor fell.
  
  And when it touched the ground, it was if the world was ending.
  
  Mountains of fire erupted into existence, and nearby - Annabeth took great care to not look at her - the traitor Empress of the Triumvirate was irradiating the mountain into golden light.
  
  "I suppose it is my defeat," Tethys acknowledged, making a simple swipe, forcing the two Demigods to back off. Their purple shroud immediately began to decline. "Maybe you have what is needed to survive the coming Age."
  
  Annabeth breathed out. This was...err...good news, right?
  
  "However, I advise you to not rely on the same strategy to challenge my fellow Titans. It won't work with them...they are not as nice as I am." Tethys smiled in amusement, as Perseus and Dakota fell to their knees, their bodies signalling them that these two minutes of rampage had a price. "Now, farewell. I am going to have to speak with Calypso before she leaves."
  
  The Sea engulfed a part of their platform, and when it receded, the Titaness was gone.
  
  Annabeth released her hold on the artefact - a huge chalice of wine - and shivered.
  
  Perseus had told her there was no chance of vanquishing someone like Tethys, but-
  
  The Titaness had indeed given them a harsh lesson.
  
  Light and fire returned her soon to reality.
  
  Something was happening.
  
  No, not something.
  
  Apotheosis.
  
  The world went gold, red, and white.
  
  In many ways, reading the copy of the marriage contract of Aphrodite and Hephaestus had been a relief.
  
  It had reassured him that the Master of Olympus was not a complete imbecile, and had indeed tried to avoid the kind of disaster a union between a nymphomaniac Goddess and a lone God starved of affection and human connections represented.
  
  Yes, Zeus had seen that it couldn't work.
  
  Article 12 - though the name must have varied since Antiquity to adapt to the more modern sensibilities - was supposed to be the answer to that.
  
  Of course, there had been problems. One half of the marriage had to assent to it, and a God or a Goddess had to be willing to Bind them.
  
  As long as Hera had been the Goddess of Marriages, it had never been an option for the latter.
  
  As long as the circumstances were extraordinary, the former was not going to happen.
  
  Perseus was very smug, to be honest, he had been able to engineer it.
  
  "Calypso," he called out. "Get Annabeth and Dakota out of the way."
  
  The portals of Night couldn't come out fast enough. He was going to miss them. They were quite useful as tactical means to escape.
  
  A pity that-
  
  The world became fire and light.
  
  Perseus closed his eyes as the whole volcano became a cauldron of divine energy.
  
  As much as he wanted to look, it wasn't possible.
  
  He was the Adjudicator.
  
  He couldn't die there.
  
  But he assuredly could become blind. And that was a fate he wanted to avoid at all costs.
  
  It was already bad enough that he felt like he was bathed into the lava lake.
  
  The Drakonic protection covering his skin helped keeping him alive.
  
  It didn't help with the pain.
  
  It didn't help with-
  
  No, he had to focus.
  
  Remain sane...though as Hades and every God in existence knew, he wasn't very sane to begin with, and the last couple of years had been no help in that regard.
  
  Finally, it ended.
  
  Or was it more correct to tell it all began anew?
  
  Perseus opened his eyes.
  
  For a second, he thought he didn't understand what he was seeing.
  
  "Uh, I was not expecting that," the former Tyrant said truthfully.
  
  Article 12, once invoked, had demanded that Hephaestus and Aphrodite would mingle part of their divine essences. The details were awfully complicated, but as far as he had been able to understand, it was something like the God getting five percent of Aphrodite's essence mixing with his, and five percent of Fire and everything belonging to the Smith mixing with ninety-five percent of Love and Lust.
  
  It wasn't an instantaneous process. In fact, the whole time he had been keeping Tethys at bay - for that what was this battle was about, really - the ritual had been forging the 'shells' the asocial husband and the unfaithful wife would stay into for a specific period of time.
  
  A period of one year, one month, and one day, to be precise.
  
  But there had been little detail on the 'shell' containing the divine essences, and even fewer clues on what else would happen the later.
  
  A lot of the fun, really, had been to find out.
  
  But now that it was revealed-
  
  The 'container' chosen for Hephaestus was in many ways akin to a three metres-tall statue of obsidian and bronze.
  
  Though the son of Poseidon didn't know if there was a mortal artist capable to sculpt or forge a metal statue like that.
  
  And it was-
  
  It was hot.
  
  Hephaestus' new appearance was hot.
  
  There was really no other word for it.
  
  One had to admit it, the myriad of Aspects and Avatars Hephaestus were all tremendously ugly.
  
  But this one-
  
  Perseus was pretty sure he had never felt anything carnal for the male sex.
  
  But this creation of-
  
  The eight-packed abs were perfection. The arms and the legs were not grossly exaggerated, they were the perfect combination of strength, elegance, and lethality.
  
  The black-bronze skin was masculinity itself.
  
  He wasn't going to mention what he had between his legs, save that it was...ahem...a formidable tool.
  
  This form was, and it was no pun, a true Titan of Fire and Metallurgy.
  
  "I..." said Titan rumbled, "I feel reborn."
  
  There was a flash, and suddenly a smaller figure - about half a metre smaller than him - materialised.
  
  This time Perseus was pretty sure he was blushing.
  
  The shell of Hephaestus was manliness and hotness incarnate. The second shell which had been created for Aphrodite seemed to be temptation itself. The Goddess of Love was sexually and female desire in metal.
  
  It looked like someone had tried to create a perfect statue of a silver Goddess...and succeeded.
  
  Everything, from her long silver hair, to her delicate feet, was perfect.
  
  Okay-
  
  Aphrodite moved and a single second later, she had her hands on her husband's shoulders. Automatically, Hephaestus' hands grabbed her hips.
  
  Their lips met, and it wasn't a chaste kiss.
  
  Oh no, it wasn't chaste kiss at all. Let's see the good side: yeah, he had confirmed the shells had tongues and everything fully functional and-
  
  Okay, the wave of Lust now was a bit over the top-
  
  Eventually, the kiss stopped.
  
  And red eyes the colour of very powerful flames turned towards him.
  
  Right as many golden chains turned into golden dust. And there were no armbands anymore anywhere on Hephaestus and his wife.
  
  "Perseus Jackson?" Aphrodite growled.
  
  "My Lady?"
  
  "Rejoice, for I have decided to not kill you immediately."
  
  "I thank your generosity, my Lady."
  
  "That doesn't mean you won't feel the full power of my blessings and curses soon," the Goddess bared perfect teeth of silvery colour. "You wanted my attention? You will have it. Three and Thirteen. Only then I will shift my attention elsewhere...maybe."
  
  That didn't sound too good. But as long as he was alive, there were loopholes to exploit.
  
  What was the saying? Where there was life, there was hope.
  
  "I will speak on your behalf on Olympus," Hephaestus was far more appreciative of his efforts, fortunately. "And I will richly reward you by the time this Great Quest will end. You can also take what you will in the ruins of Forge MP-42...though I'm afraid it is not much."
  
  That was far sweeter music for his ears, yes.
  
  And he blushed again, because Aphrodite's position suddenly shifted to become quite...carnal and suggestive in her husbands' arms.
  
  "Enough of this for today," Aphrodite purred. "Isis? I am going to properly fuck my husband for the first time. You and the son of Poseidon are unwanted audience. Get out, and don't return."
  
  There was a flash of golden light.
  
  And just like that, the Battle which would in the future be called the Clash of Titans ended.
  
  31 December 2006, the devastation of the island once called Forge MP-42
  
  If he was forced to pay a Drachma for every island whose destruction he had been somewhat involved, Perseus would have to pay at least two of the gold coins.
  
  Which wasn't a lot, but it said quite something of the sheer collateral damage a Great Quest could make.
  
  Half of the island was now nothing but a gigantic inferno. It was good luck that said half was the one the furthest away from the ships and where the survivors of Force S were mustering.
  
  Otherwise there would have been far more deaths.
  
  Unlike what had happened after the death of Alcyoneus, the volcano hadn't disappeared.
  
  The fury of the elements wasn't abating. With Tethys no longer able to keep the element opposite to hers in check, fire was getting out of control.
  
  The explosions were easily worth tens of thousands of tons of explosives, and they projected phenomenal quantities of rock, lava, and other things into the sea...and onto the thoroughly ruined island, of course. Perseus preferred to think not too much about the fact it was the natural consequences of the God of Fire banging his wife.
  
  The black-haired Demigod watched the spectacle for long seconds, trying to see if there were some structures that might be worth a few minutes of looting. He found none. None that wasn't already being busy devoured by a magma river or encircled by the tides of fire.
  
  At some point, there were gains which weren't worth the risks, and those definitely fell in that category.
  
  "Right," the former Tyrant sighed. It was not a big loss, and there were other options. A second later, the golden armbands began to shine brighter. "They say that you learn with every defeat. I prefer to learn with every victory, no matter how painful it is."
  
  "You went near death more times in a single hour than even Gods can properly count."
  
  "That's completely true."
  
  "For the sake of my curiosity, did you have a plan in the first place? Or was it only a series of improvisations as the battle unravelled disastrously?"
  
  "Yes," Perseus answered cheekily.
  
  There was a long moment of silence.
  
  "I presume you are not going to release me now."
  
  "I went to great lengths to become your Adjudicator, Lady Isis." Perseus allowed himself a thin smile and didn't bother turning his head. "And you are not stupid. I think you have figured out by now how I intend to break this gambit of the Triumvirate."
  
  "Yes. Why would you waste your time attacking our well-fortified base? It would be an enormous risk, as your forces have been severely diminished by this slaughterhouse here." The newly-born Goddess made a sound quite close to a hiss. "It was always your intention to provoke my husband into sallying out unwisely, away from the enchantments made by Circe and the walls which would have stopped the Suicide Squad dead in mere minutes."
  
  "Yes." At this point, there was no reason to deny it anymore. "And though Mark Antony's official military career is a succession of reckless offensives, it was two thousand years ago. I'm sure he learned from his mistakes. There was only one being I was absolutely sure he would never abandon, no matter the personal cost to his ambitions. His wife."
  
  Before his eyes, the island was ravaged by fire and explosions. There would soon be nothing left of the battlefield. The corpses which had not been abandoned now were undoubtedly going to be incinerated in short order.
  
  "I can make your life very unpleasant."
  
  "So can I, as your Adjudicator," Perseus turned for the first time, and was amused to see that Isis had transformed into a divine Avatar very similar to Aphrodite. The big difference was that instead of magnificent silver, everything with her was radiant gold. Well, that and there was a distant Egyptian theme with a crown of gold and a real-than-life snake representation for the royal ornamentation. "Must we play that game?"
  
  "My peer," Isis commented idly, inspecting her extremely long nails, "has marked you in ways you may find uncomfortable in the short and long-term. I can easily help her."
  
  Perseus gave her a pitying look.
  
  "But I suppose increasing the chaos around you might be a very risky proposal," Isis acknowledged the point. "I will not try to curse you as long as you behave."
  
  "Good." He could handle a Goddess or two, but the next days were going to be 'interesting'. Watching his back from everything the former Queen could do while fending off other attacks could prove troublesome.
  
  "A last question, if I may. You took the power of Adjudicator. How were you certain that it would work?"
  
  "I am hardly the first, Lady Isis." He answered honestly. "Of course, I don't know if they called it an Adjudicator before, but the names and the function must have been similar."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Really," Perseus nodded. "You may have heard of one of my predecessors. His name was Paris. Paris of Troy."
  
  "The Golden Apple Affair which began the Trojan War," the golden Goddess murmured. "Yes, it explains so much."
  
  Perseus drew parchment, ink, and feathers from his pocket. What? He was a traditional at heart.
  
  "Now," the son of Poseidon smiled, "I believe it is in our best interest to sign a contract, in order for it to not be any misunderstanding for the days to come."
  
  31 December 2006, a beach which temporarily escaped the devastation, evacuation zone to the ships of Force S
  
  Ethan had believed the bad surprises and the heart attacks would end after the Titaness manifested in the middle of their improvised camp and sort of kidnapped her daughter Calypso.
  
  Unfortunately, it was the Sea of Monsters, not the Sea of Pleasant Surprises.
  
  The island was now rocked by explosions with every minute.
  
  And the volcanic eruptions were getting more and more devastating.
  
  To be honest, Ethan rather doubted that by next dawn, there would be anything mortal left alive on this island.
  
  The only solace was that their ships had been spared for now, so they could at least flee the fiery Armageddon unleashed on these shores.
  
  "Jade! How is Leo?"
  
  "Rather fine for someone who has now a mechanical furnace instead of a heart," the former Huntress grimaced. "I placed plenty of ice cubes on his forehead, and he was burning so hot they melted in mere minutes. Once I return to the ship, I will likely have to make him an ice cocoon so he doesn't transform into a human torch."
  
  "At least he's still alive," and he couldn't help but remark he was the optimist one, this time.
  
  "Yeah," the Champion of Khione rolled her eyes, "though I would have loved some additional explanation before a paper 'oh, by the way, stop him from self-combusting for the next twenty-four hours'."
  
  "The Gods are..." Ethan remembered on time that some Olympians were in all likelihood able to listen to the words, "the Gods. Rico! Load me these pallets of ammunition! And no, I don't want to hear where you found them! Skipper, you help him! Clarisse! How did the meeting with the Gallowborne go?"
  
  "Pretty well, all things considered," the daughter of Ares grunted, who had lost almost all her hair in the last battles, and looked more exhausted than he'd ever seen her. Then again, they were all dead tired. Once they left this island, they were likely going to have to sleep twenty-four hours in one go to recover. "They don't want to work for us anymore, but I don't think anyone will be surprised to hear that. I told them to take the Black Pearl. It's the only pirate ship left, since we don't exactly know when the Queen Anne's Revenge disappeared. They were about to nominate one incapable with dreadlocks as their new Captain."
  
  "Nobody is an incapable today, Clarisse," Ethan answered with a sigh. "They all managed to survive this hell of an island, to begin with."
  
  "If you say so, Ethan," the warrior Demigoddess' tone indicated she clearly disagreed. "His main claim to fame is to have recovered some copy of Jackson's magical compass. But you know what? I don't care! I want to take a shower, and then go sleeping for an entire week."
  
  "I understand your wish," the son of Nemesis said sincerely. "We are almost done with our duties anyway. Everyone has returned save Jackson and Calypso, and I'm pretty sure the future Queen of Hell-Night will not join us again."
  
  "And the golden statues?" Luke asked as he threw swords and first-class weapons which had been stolen by the Blackbeard Pirates and then 'requisitioned' by the Suicide Squad.
  
  "Ah yes, the grand backstabber Octavian MacArthur and his clique of lackeys." Ethan snorted.
  
  So far, this Second Great Quest had seen some truly ridiculous things.
  
  But Lou Ellen this time had raised the bar very high in terms of comical relief.
  
  Imagine twelve statues of living Legionnaires, and one statue of a deceased one. They were all made of pure gold, and from a distance, they looked extremely realistic.
  
  Then as you approached, you were forced to say they were too realistic.
  
  And then you laughed, because some of the Legionnaire figures were frozen in quite ridiculous positions, or trying to adopt martial postures that were looking like wildly impractical poses for a real battle.
  
  Obviously, there weren't statues.
  
  They were Octavian McArthur's last followers, along with the poseur himself.
  
  And they looked totally, completely, utterly ridiculous here on this beach.
  
  "Well," the son of Hermes said thoughtfully, "I suppose we could always use the gold-"
  
  The ground shook violently.
  
  One more eruption...and one far closer than the previous ones. The pyre which was lit about a kilometre away sounded like extremely bad news.
  
  "Forget the statues," Ethan said at last. "We need-"
  
  "ALL WILL REMEMBER THE UNBEATABLE! FROM THE WEST HE CAME, AND FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE WORLD TO THE SUMMIT OF THE VOLCANO, HE CONQUERRED! HE IS UNBEATABLE!"
  
  The massive orange chariot crash-landed on the beach in a noise of furious ocean and offended gargoyles.
  
  Holding the reins of the chariot, was of course Perseus, clad in a ridiculous orange toga, and giving them his trademark grin of madness.
  
  Why wasn't he surprised?
  
  Ethan sighed. He sighed and suddenly, he gaped in stupefaction.
  
  Perseus hadn't been alone on the chariot. There was-
  
  No, he couldn't have done it.
  
  No.
  
  Ethan wasn't a historian or any specialist of Ancient Egypt, but there was only woman right now in the Sea of Monsters who would think to dress like an Egyptian Queen.
  
  And this woman was an enemy; she wouldn't be caught alive holding a crown of laurels for Perseus, or for anyone else but an Emperor of the Triumvirate.
  
  But here she was, with golden chains dancing around her limbs, right after Perseus had dramatically summoned her three times, according to Annabeth's first after-action report.
  
  "Ethan! Why aren't these statues aboard the Inevitable Doom? I want to offer them to Lord Dionysus! I want to make sure there is a commemorative monument to the Greatest Backstabbing Imbeciles of New Constantinople!"
  
  The son of Nemesis facepalmed. Well, at least he was sure this Perseus wasn't an impostor.
  
  "We had not reached a decision, but-"
  
  The end of the sentence was not necessary, for the son of Poseidon was distracted by something else.
  
  Namely a slap coming from an angry daughter of Hecate.
  
  "Would it have bothered you to send a message?" Lou Ellen Blackstone snarled. "I had to rely on all the others to be informed of what you were doing!"
  
  "Come on, Lou, I was busy-"
  
  The blonde-haired sorceress grabbed him by the neck of his orange-clothed toga and kissed him ferociously.
  
  Plenty of Demigods snickered. Ethan freely admitted he was among them.
  
  "You can continue 'apologising' in your cabin, Jackson. And tell us what the queenly wife of one of our greatest opponents is doing as your prisoner?"
  
  "Oh, that's simple," Perseus replied, relatively unembarrassed by the situation he was into. "She is now the Goddess Isis, and I am her Adjudicator. Don't worry, the next part of my glorious plan mostly consists of blackmailing her husband into releasing Ares in my custody! And I bet none of you saw it coming!"
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Author's note:
  
  Here the Battle of the Clash of the Titans ends. It was quite fun to escalate for many, many pages (insert evil grin).
  
  Every certainty Olympus, the Triumvirate and most big players held before this cataclysmic onslaught have now been destroyed.
  
  And where now the Suicide Squad was definitely seen as underdogs and their chances of success as minimal, the odds of success have suddenly skyrocketed.
  
  The Second Great Quest, whose goals were supposed to be impossible, is looking quite different now as a new year is about to begin.
  
  We're close to the endgame. And neither the Seas of Monsters nor Olympus will be the same again.
  
  Suicide Squad - List of Fallen:
  
  Judith - Huntress of Artemis, now serving the Goddess Khione in death
  
  Kalinda - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Eudoxia - Huntress of Artemis
  
  Douglas Smith - son of Volturnus
  
  Phoebe - Huntress of Artemis, daughter of Eris
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper, Chuck, Jim plus fourteen other Legionnaire mutineers
  
  Gallowborne Division - all seventeen Legionnaires
  
  Nick Coleman, son of Quirinus
  
  Fergus Cook - son of Liber, transformed into a golden penguin and unfortunately for him, died as one
  
  Michael Kahale and hundreds of Legionnaires of the Twelfth Legion, along with over nine hundred pirates
  
  Wall of Dishonour:
  
  Bella Medina - daughter of Scotus: traitor and betrayer, became Nocturna and discarded her humanity before deserting from the Suicide Squad
  
  Jade - former Huntress: denied the will of Artemis, and became the Champion of Khione
  
  Drew Tanaka - daughter of Aphrodite: became a living weapon, and the new Champion of Persephone
  
  Calypso Tenebrae - daughter of Atlas, joins the Suicide Squad for a moon, may have a slight grudge against Olympus
  
  Hera - completely blamed for organising and celebrating marriages without the approval of Olympus. She renounced Marriage and is a claimant to the title of Goddess of Seasons now.
  
  Perseus Jackson - for reasons which don't need to be explained
  
  Leo Valdez - holds the fame of being the first member of the Suicide Squad with a mechanical heart
  
  Iphigenia - once known as Alexia, now marked by the Dreaming One, Primordial of Water
  
  Octavian McArthur - currently changed into a golden statue along with his lackeys, courtesy of a variant of Midas' Curse
  
  Edward Teach - better known as Blackbeard, Admiral of the Blackbeard Pirates; disappeared into the waters of the Sea of Monsters; his fate is now uncertain
  
  Gallowborne 'Divisions':
  
  The first 'Division' was 17 ex-Legionnaires, condemned to be thrown in the most dangerous situations for their attempted mutiny; their names are now forsaken, and they are now known as 'Future Zombie', 'Cannon-Fodder', 'Scapegoat', 'Dead Legionnaire Walking', etc...
  
  It must be alas noted that all the Gallowborne Legionnaires all perished during their Redemption Mission on the beach of C.'C's Spa and Resort. Perseus Jackson has already declined all responsibility in the matter.
  
  The Second Division fare better. At least fifty pirates survived the merciless clash in the ruins of Isthmus' defences, and were given an amnesty. Please don't ask the percentage of casualties it represents from the original complement.
  
  Ships of Force S lost:
  
  Etna - modified Kilauea-class Ammunition Ship, HPMS Burning Dragon - 74-guns ship of the line, HPMS Jolly Roger - 48-cannons galleon, HPMS Royal Fortune - 40-cannons frigate, HPMS Ranger - 12-cannons brigantine, HPMS Light of the Orient - 8-cannons junk
  
  The Suicide Squad and its Tyrant are once again victorious! Praise the Madness!
  
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  Dawn of Blackmail
  Chapter 27
  
  Dawn of Blackmail
  
  As Perseus Jackson warned us beforehand, we hadn't seen his 'surprise' coming.
  
  Again.
  
  In fact, I think it is no exaggeration to say no one had been prepared for the final outcome of the Clash of the Titans.
  
  The most optimistic souls among Force S had conceded that maybe, just maybe, the arsenal delivered by the Telekhines and placed under an insane son of Poseidon might be able to free Hephaestus, at the price of catastrophic casualties.
  
  But no matter how arrogant or supportive, few had been willing to gamble a single Drachma for the battle which had to be fought after that.
  
  The odds of Force S successfully storming Forge MP-42 were low enough as it is; to repeat the exploit against the island-fortress of the Triumvirate and before we had the time to bring reinforcements sounded like folly at its finest.
  
  That's why well before Kymopoleia appeared before the Super-Mega Yacht, there were plenty of whispers suggesting to negotiate some gracious exit with Olympus. The Suicide Squad and all its allies had the firepower to fight one major battle per couple of months; we certainly hadn't the resources to survive two.
  
  And it wasn't a bad calculus, ultimately.
  
  The Clash of the Titans left all of us, battered, exhausted, and half-mad. We were certainly in no shape to participate in a skirmish against the Triumvirate at that point. The missile stocks were gone, plenty of ships had gone to the bottom of the Sea of Monsters, and after continuing for so long an existential battle, more or less everyone needed to be healed by the Golden Fleece.
  
  All of that had been expected.
  
  Perseus engineering the Apotheosis of Isis and sort of kidnapping her by becoming his Adjudicator, on the other hand, had definitely not been part of the plan mentioned beforehand.
  
  It was, admittedly, a strategic strike worthy of legend. In a single day, all the plans of the Triumvirate collapsed.
  
  And already one thing was clear: the final battle wouldn't happen at the gates of Guadalcanal, with the Suicide Squad desperately trying to storm the magical defences before Marcus Antonius could usurp an Olympian during the days of the Lupercalia.
  
  That wasn't to say, of course, that this Great Quest was over and victory was ours. Far from it.
  
  Chapter 21 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2, by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  1 January 2007, Caedus Fortress of the Triumvirate, Guadalcanal
  
  It began with a musical opening.
  
  Someone on the other end had apparently decided to play Ride of the Valkyries as a prelude.
  
  How in the name of the Gods the Demigods had known that his Emperor hated everything that came from Richard Wagner would be something to ponder later.
  
  A few more seconds passed, and then a short video played out. It was clearly the Empress standing prisoner in what had to be a ship's cabin. Lucius Vorenus and many others breathed out in relief, as according to the data on the screen, this had been filmed mere minutes ago.
  
  Obviously, Isis was different. While the means of communication was by its very nature imperfect, anyone with the eyes to see could tell clearly she had shed what was left of her mortality. She was a true Goddess now.
  
  And as Lucius and everyone acknowledged this point, the video ended, and the screen was quickly replaced by a being the overwhelming majority of the Triumvirate troops had learned to dread.
  
  The young Demigod was sprawled on the couch in a posture that had to be voluntarily insulting. He wore an orange T-Shirt and black trousers.
  
  And if there was a sign he had been fighting for his death against a Titaness hours before, one couldn't see it now.
  
  "Gentlemen," the monster grinned. "I wish you a Happy New Year."
  
  Lucius had thought the gloating, when it finally came, would be a slap on his face.
  
  But that was worse than gloating.
  
  It was-
  
  "I am going to strangle you very, very slowly," his Emperor promised. "I assure you that when I will have finished with you, you will shout you should have died in the battle against the Titaness of the Seas!"
  
  Perseus Jackson yawned in an exaggerated fashion, something which naturally raised the levels of anger inside the Strategium.
  
  "Say what you have to say." His Lord ordered once it became clear the son of Poseidon was content to imitate a smug feline teasing a pack of dogs.
  
  "Ah, straightforward and eager to speak of business. I like that." The black-haired enemy grabbed a crystal glass, and someone on the left brought forwards a bottle of alcohol, pouring the contents of it into the Demigod's glass.
  
  It went without saying that for thirty seconds, the son of Poseidon didn't speak at all.
  
  And all the while he didn't stop smiling, something which felt...incredibly wrong. It was like contemplating a smug snake, assuming the snakes had the ability to be smug like that.
  
  At no point the enemy leader brought the glass to his lips.
  
  "I have, by some curious twist of Fate, become your wife's Adjudicator. As you could clearly see beforehand, she is an honoured guest aboard my flagship-"
  
  "Your prisoner, you mean," Second Augustus Marcus Antonius interrupted, his rage beginning to lash out.
  
  "Honoured guest," repeated the son of Poseidon, closing one eye, making sure only his crimson iris stared at them while grinning. The effect was honestly incredibly sinister. "I assure you that the Goddess has been treated with all the respect her new status deserves. Of course, the Inevitable Doom is a bit limited when it comes to floating palaces, but I assure you that we're taking plenty of measures to remedy to it."
  
  You had to give it to him: Perseus Jackson didn't lack in audacity or assurance. There were many people who would have lost their composure speaking to a room filled with Legionnaires and warriors who wanted him dead yesterday.
  
  The grin ended, and the other eye opened again.
  
  "As for our business. I am going to blackmail you."
  
  "Go to Hell!" a Legionnaire barked.
  
  "Already did it thrice, and I don't advise it for a touristic destination," the son of Poseidon replied immediately. "What do you say, Lord Emperor of the Triumvirate?"
  
  "You have kidnapped my wife," Marcus Antonius growled, "but you are not beyond my reach. I don't know what your plan is, Perseus Jackson, but-"
  
  "Oh, that's easy," the mad being who had freed the God of Forges from a Titaness smiled, and it was like madness had a new Prince. "I am going to do nothing."
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  "You are forgiven," the infuriating boy cackled. "You see, what you seemed to have a bit forgotten is that with the Titaness gone, your little hidden island there is not so hidden anymore. Olympus knows where it is, and though it will take a few days, I'm willing to bet that the moment certain protections will fade, your fortresses and magical obelisks will be earmarked for several strikes of the Master Bolt."
  
  "I am aware of this reality, bastard."
  
  The Demigod didn't seem fazed in the slightest by the insult.
  
  "Then you are also aware you will lose the ritual grounds you've prepared for the last months. And with C.C. monitored by several Olympians and your wife as my guest of honour, it is extremely improbable you will have the opportunity to find another one before this Lupercalia. Moreover, the absence of Lady Isis by your side is another massive setback for you. You do not have any significant magical abilities. I'm also curious how long the chains of Ares will hold now that you have no one to reinforce them."
  
  "They will hold long enough! And you can't stay Adjudicator for all eternity either!"
  
  "No," Perseus Jackson admitted. "But I can assume these duties for an entire year. It's far more than I need to destroy your plan utterly. You made too many rituals focusing on the Lupercalia; you can't ascend at any other date, claimant Marcus Antonius. And once the sacred Roman holy days are behind us, it is incredibly likely the chains will break. The Fates are not fond of people who think taking divine captives comes without consequences."
  
  The expression the scion of the Earthshaker gave them was not particularly gentle. Indeed, it was extremely malicious.
  
  "Thus we return to my Master Plan. I am sailing back to the Forge of All Perils with my guest of honour, and you are way too late to intercept me. I will bunker down there, as by now my Telekhine allies have turned it into an impregnable stronghold that all your remaining fleet will be unable to storm. And you have two choices. If you are willing to be reasonable, you release Ares, and within twenty-four hours I swear on the Styx," the earth shook, "that I will relinquish my position of Adjudicator."
  
  "And if I refuse?"
  
  The lone eye of crimson shone malevolently.
  
  "If you refuse, I will wait a few days after the Lupercalia and the ruin of your ambitions to abandon the duties and privileges of being the Adjudicator of Love." The Demigod shrugged. "By that point, I expect Ares will have freed himself and gone on a rampage to slaughter you and everyone serving under your aquila standards, Marcus Antonius. You got lucky once, but this time, there is no Titaness in this Zone Mortalis to give you succour. And unfortunately for you, with no magic to make sure Ares' strength is severely restricted, you stand no chance in a duel against him. So yes, right now, I don't need to do anything to win."
  
  "That assumes there are only two choices," Lucius Vorenus stated. He felt plenty of heads turning towards him, but he ignored them for now, focusing on the eyes of the enemy. "You summoned Lady Isis three times to become her Adjudicator. You took enormous risks for it. It allowed you to completely upturn the strategic situation again, yes, but something so powerful must have drawbacks. No matter the name, every semi-ritualistic deed supported by the Ancient Laws has some weaknesses inbuilt in it to prevent Gods and Demigods to abuse it."
  
  Perseus Jackson nodded.
  
  "That's certainly true. Of course, time is against you now, Praetor. Should these hypothetical weaknesses exist, you have to find them before the beginning of this year's Lupercalia. And no, I am not going to reveal them. You will have to search it the hard way, same as I did." They heard a new cackling laughter. "I don't wish you good luck, for I am not that hypocritical. You heard my conditions, oh Second Augustus of the Triumvirate. You know how to contact me now, and I, as a peaceful and magnanimous Tyrant, would happily end this storm of violence on a calm and happy note. And once again, Happy New Year!"
  
  The explosion of anger and loathing struck the moment the screen turned black again.
  
  It took many, many minutes for it to decrease.
  
  "Lucius," his commanding officer snarled, his fury far from a thing of the past, "rush to the Cursor Tower. Tell my esteemed peers of the Triumvirate I request an emergency council as soon as possible."
  
  1 January 2007, the Coral Palace, somewhere in the depths of the Pacific Ocean
  
  Calypso had expected many things to await her at the gates of the Coral Palace once they arrived before it.
  
  But the food packages, honestly, were really something which had no precedent.
  
  "What is this...pop-corn, mother?"
  
  "A poor joke from Oceanus," Tethys sighed. "My dear husband sent me a mountain of it. I don't appreciate his sense of humour."
  
  "I don't understand it at all."
  
  "This," her pirate-costumed mother explained while removing the pile of food packages which blocked the way, "is one hundred percent algae-pure pop-corn. It's one of those munching delicacies Gods and mortals love to devour when watching a movie. I'm pretty sure that all the film rooms in my palace are playing some part of the battle you and the Suicide Squad fought against my forces."
  
  "Oh," yes, Calypso was beginning to understand why her mother didn't like the joke. No Titan or Titaness liked to have his nose rubbed in the ashes of his or her defeat. "Your marriage didn't improve when I was away."
  
  "We tolerate each other's presence when we are invited together to the balls and other prestigious events of the year."
  
  Yes, that was what she thought.
  
  A current came on her back, and their swimming speed accelerated until they were ejected in a specific room of the Palace the former Titaness of Drakons had done her best to avoid millennia ago.
  
  Who would blame her?
  
  This was a hall that mortals would need several hours to cross if they wanted to exit it.
  
  And from the ceiling - which was sixteen metres above her head - to the floor, this space was devoted to wedding dresses.
  
  Yes, for several kilometres, there were dresses of all the colours imaginable floating perfectly preserved for a bride to pick them.
  
  "I had already a dress in mind!" The former Queen of Ogygia didn't have the time to make two steps before being forced by an impenetrable wall of water.
  
  "I will be the judge of that, young Lady."
  
  Calypso surveyed her surroundings, hoping against all hope there was an avenue of escape. Alas, her mother had clearly anticipated her reaction. All the doors had disappeared, and there were no allies in sight.
  
  "This is part of my punishment, I suppose?"
  
  "Now, now, Calypso," the Mistress of the Coral Palace teased her, "you are marrying the King of the Underworld. I am not going to let you go to the altar in battle-armour."
  
  Strangely, the new Princess of Tenebrae didn't hear a 'no'...
  
  "Like you won't present yourself in this horrible pirate attire?"
  
  "Polite daughters shouldn't criticise their mother's choices."
  
  Calypso breathed out loudly before acknowledging the inevitable.
  
  "Right, let's go with it." The long-imprisoned Titaness huffed. "I will find strength in the fact father will not be here to bring me to the altar."
  
  Needless to say, Atlas, Lord of Endurance, hated the God she was about to marry. It was hardly surprising, for Hades was his 'successor'. Their battles during the Titanomachy had been brutal, and one which had created plenty of feuds to last tens of thousands of years.
  
  "Yes, bringing him would be a major faux-pas," her mother chuckled. "And before I forget...do you have a Champion now?"
  
  "I have one, yes." She knew Perseus Jackson had noticed how the sands of Miranda Gardiner had turned black before she left, but she didn't know if other people had noticed. Since her own mother didn't, the probable answer was negative.
  
  "Good! Would you mind summoning her here? Champions must be by their patron's side, and your fellow wives have already announced they intended to bring their lieutenants."
  
  Calypso bared her teeth. There was a saying: misery loved company. She had to suffer with these wedding dresses for a couple of days, yes. But nobody had said she had to endure this torment alone!
  
  1 January 2007, the Little Forum, Mount Olympus
  
  The Little Forum was certainly a very popular place of the immortals on Olympus.
  
  As such, it was a minor shock to see it deserted, especially on the first day of this New Year. Yes, it was late evening, but there should be more people...and there would have been, if not for the extraordinary circumstances.
  
  His brother was waiting for him, seated at a table for two.
  
  The glasses were already filled.
  
  "Strawberry hydromel?" Neptune asked lightly.
  
  "The Norse gave me an ungodly amount of headaches for centuries, but they knew their drinks," Jupiter replied.
  
  "That they do." And the two Olympians proceeded to empty the first bottle in complete silence.
  
  Silence for them, at least.
  
  Several streets away, a singer certainly hired by Dionysus was singing something first composed for the French musical comedy Romeo and Juliet. Specifically young men proclaiming themselves Kings of the World, if he remembered the lyrics correctly.
  
  "What a year," his brother mused.
  
  "It's not been twenty-four hours, you know."
  
  "What a year," Jupiter repeated, before snorting. "You know how many orgies are happening right now here? Twenty-five, brother, and the biggest one is Dionysus'."
  
  "Why I am not surprised?" The Ruler of the Seas snorted. "All over the world, the mortals have been influenced as much as we have. Las Vegas has seen its record of marriages per day hilariously demolished, and all over the world, lovers are fornicating without shame. What has the world come to?"
  
  "Please," the Lord of Thunder retorted. "The very reason your Roman persona is here right now is all your Greek aspects are busy in the bedroom with your wife."
  
  "We are not limiting ourselves to the bedroom, you know."
  
  "Neither are plenty of ambitious politicians and their mistresses in Paris, Rome, and several other major European cities," the Master of Olympus commented ironically. "I knew she had expanded her cults' numbers on the other side of the Atlantic, but it seems the estimates were tens of thousands too low, judging by how many people are acting as nexuses of Lust and Love right now."
  
  "And yet you're not unhappy."
  
  "The Twelfth Clause was supposed to do exactly that when I wrote it, brother," the Lord of the Master Bolt said drily. "I can't exactly complain it did exactly what it was supposed to without sounding absolutely stupid and ridiculous. No, at last my son understands how lucky he is to have a hot wife to have sex with. A pity it took such extremities to stoke his fires."
  
  Neptune groaned. That was a horrible pun.
  
  "It is still going to have major consequences." Aphrodite was now fully a vessel of Fire and Lust. Article Twelve was going to last only a limited number of time, but that reality would remain.
  
  "Yes. But there's the hope that for the first time, my son and his wife will truly be husband and wife for real."
  
  If the number of eruptions in the Pacific was an indication of the consolidation of their union, yes, the likelihood of that was high.
  
  "Speaking of Goddesses, some have begun to spread rumours."
  
  "I have heard of them," Jupiter sipped the first new glass of his second hydromel bottle. "And I assure you, I have not the intention to try to kill her husband and marry her while the corpse is still cooling down."
  
  "I wasn't thinking you would, but I had to be sure." Neptune hesitated before finishing his point. "Newborn Goddesses are extremely vulnerable, and this one even more so."
  
  "If she was in my custody, I would certainly try to turn her against the Triumvirate, and convince her to swear allegiance to me," the Lord of Thunder admitted honestly. "But she isn't, and I have learned enough from Juno to avoid repeating the trouble for several centuries."
  
  "I see."
  
  "No, I will wait until the end of the Quest to decide Isis' fate. If she is still in your son's power...there will be a hard decision to make. Until then, it's not worth wasting our time with ideas that might turn out to be impossible."
  
  "The same will likely apply to Aphrodite's punishment, I take it?" The Goddess of Love had managed to get out of several oaths she had made, courtesy of not swearing them on the Styx, but her behaviour had really been outrageous, and that was saying it politely.
  
  "Of course," his brother scowled. "And she isn't the only one who will need to be punished. I extensively checked my sons' affairs while they were prisoners, and while I had nothing to complain about Hephaestus save his near-celibate lifestyle, the same can't be said about my other son."
  
  Neptune didn't bother showing the shadow of a surprised expression. Many Olympians, including himself, had warned the Master of Olympus. By the Pit, it was one of the few things Minerva and himself agreed upon these days.
  
  "Your son is a butcher."
  
  The other God didn't bother arguing back.
  
  "He has many sins. But some of the most problematic flaws do not stem from his cruelty, but his lack of leadership qualities. The Amazons are completely out of control and are engaged into forbidden trades under the cover of their megacorporation. And there are now several armies of mercenaries in the Middle East and elsewhere that no one oversaw properly, ever."
  
  Unfortunately, once again, the God of the Seas couldn't pretend being surprised. Mars was capable on the battlefield and in military affairs, but both his Roman and Greek personal were extremely bloodthirsty, and saw no point restraining the carnage to a few days of the year.
  
  "I had to send Hercules, Minerva, and Bellona to clean the mess." His brother rumbled. "And the more I dig, the more appalling things I find. This is enough."
  
  "Enough?"
  
  "I want Mars outside of the Council." Jupiter spoke bluntly.
  
  "I am willing to tentatively agree," Neptune said prudently, "provided of course I have a vote in who will replace him."
  
  "I...yes, I suppose I can do that."
  
  In other words, the Master of Olympus had decided first to expel Mars. The evidence must have truly been disgusting and earth-shaking to generate that sort of reaction.
  
  "The Sea Titaness has returned to the Coral Palace. She shouldn't cause trouble for the current Great Quest and the months to come."
  
  "You no doubt understand how relieved I am to hear that!" Thundercloud eyes stared at him. "Naturally, a second relief would be that your son did his best to avoid taunting the Primordials, please."
  
  "I will do what I can." Neptune coughed. "But in all fairness to him, we didn't even inform our children of the 'Cursed Crown', so it wasn't like he could know of the problem before staring at the abyss."
  
  "I know. This is why I didn't disintegrate him on the spot." Jupiter frowned. "This boy is exactly like us when were children."
  
  "Adventurous?"
  
  "I would use some other words, but I fear our mother would wake up and force me to eat a treasure worth of soap." There was a thunderous rumble. "No. Your son is who he is."
  
  The words beginning by 'arrogant brat' were not uttered, but they had to be thought very loudly.
  
  "I would love to say I will fine him, but I've already noticed he's sending his tithes to Athena and I can't voice my disapproval. And in the end, he did free my son, so I suppose I can forgive him. And I can't trust you to punish him either, since he gave you your Heiress in mortal form. Yes, I know about that, they weren't as discreet as they believed."
  
  "And?"
  
  "Kymopoleia, however, will be punished. She willingly challenged my right to rule."
  
  "How much?"
  
  "Seventy-five million Denarii," this was almost...reasonable. It was merely one million gold Drachmas, really. His brother must be in a very good mood from all the sexual perversions he was no doubt involved into in the last hours.
  
  "She will pay the fine," the ruler of Atlantis assured him. "I trust the same will happen to your daughter?"
  
  In her Greek form, Minerva had intervened directly to convince Perseus to deprive the Gorgon sisters of their monstrous powers. If Kymopoleia was guilty, then too was the Goddess of Wisdom.
  
  "Oh yes, she will be punished most severely. I sent her to be a messenger, and she used the time to pursue her agenda against my will."
  
  Hopefully, all the personas of his brother would take it as a hint that one couldn't rule tyrannically without ignoring the political ambitions of the very children he had elevated to the Council.
  
  "Mars is still prisoner of the Triumvirate." Jupiter abruptly changed the subject at once.
  
  "I would have thought that my son doing what he did more or less guaranteed victory, and an exchange of prisoners." The military forces of the Triumvirate couldn't really go on the offensive against Perseus, really. The Telekhines had fortified the island once used as a lair by Fimbulvetr. If they attacked, they would regret it before dying in the explosions.
  
  "Being an Adjudicator, since your son chose that particular translation, is not without its flaws. I should know, since I invented it for this foolish Trojan Prince."
  
  Neptune grimaced. Even so long after the fact, he really didn't like being reminded of the Trojan War and everything that led to it.
  
  "I suppose my son thought it as a challenge, rather than as obstacle." And against someone as powerful as Tethys, it was certainly the only way to accomplish some of your goals without dying horribly in the process.
  
  The Master of Olympus conjured an image of several European cities on their right. Predictably, it was all parties and carnal manifestations of lust and love.
  
  "I am willing to let him return to New Constantinople," Jupiter declared. "But he will be assigned to residence. I don't care if you build him a palace, brother, but he will stay there for a few months. And he will stop giving reasons for Diana to come screaming in my ears every hour."
  
  Ah yes, that. If there was one Goddess who had taken the 'birth' of Isis and the changes of Aphrodite as a personal affront, then Diana was undoubtedly that Olympian.
  
  The Goddess of the Hunt was on the warpath now, and it wasn't an exaggeration.
  
  "And you tell Pluto the same applies to his infernal daughter."
  
  Neptune chuckled. Yes, he supposed Jupiter wasn't going to rush to the Underworld to present his congratulations to their eldest brother, not when he had slept with one of his wives recently.
  
  "I suppose I can do that."
  
  The God of the Seas emptied the last of the hydromel - excellent, as always - and prepared to leave.
  
  "One last matter."
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "My son sent me a concerning message between two copulation sessions. A Key has been stolen."
  
  "Brother, do you realise how little-"
  
  His voice faltered as the Lord of Thunder showed him an old-fashioned golden key he carried around his neck.
  
  "Yes, one of those Keys." A storm was brewing into the divine eyes. "And your son informed Vulcan it was the Sire of the Drakons which had struck again, with his new agent stealing the Key."
  
  That was bad...incredibly bad.
  
  "So the Sire is one of the Three." When you knew the First was Typhon, it said something how problematic the issue was.
  
  "The other Keys?"
  
  "Bacchus checked his: they are still there, heavily protected. And obviously, so are mine."
  
  This was reassuring, though it also meant they didn't know which one of the Three was trying to stir trouble.
  
  "This doesn't make any sense. One of the Three should have known we would notice the robbery. There should have been attempts to seize the other Keys."
  
  "Yes," his younger brother grimly replied. "And it means we're missing something. Unfortunately, I have no idea what it might be."
  
  2 January 2007, War Room of the Aquila, Caedus Fortress of the Triumvirate, Guadalcanal
  
  "And as the little bastard taunted me, the Inevitable Doom is on its way to the Forge which was once a Drakonic lair." He certainly wasn't going to use the ridiculous name the son of Poseidon used on a constant basis. "The Spear of the Gods has no chance to intercept him before he reaches it."
  
  That concluded his report, and for a few heartbeats there was no answer whatsoever.
  
  The former Magister Equitum took it as minor feeling of consolation that none of his two 'allies' had seen that coming.
  
  It was a pity their wives weren't here. Their expressions of astonishment would also have been a source of amusement.
  
  For a few seconds, at least.
  
  "Perseus Jackson," Caligula shook slowly his head. "Of course it had to be Perseus Jackson."
  
  And once you had said it, what could be added to that?
  
  "Everything went wrong with this battle," he admitted reluctantly. "But I am sure that with your help-"
  
  Neo Helios, as the arrogant Julii loved to call himself, burst into laughter.
  
  Thank God the bastard was only present via a technological-made hologram, otherwise Marcus would have been tempted to strangle him. Slowly.
  
  "How in the name of the Underworld will we do that? None of our military forces are anywhere near the Sea of Monsters. It would take a massive redeployment to arrive before the Lupercalia. Olympus would be sure to notice. The Earthshaker would be ordered to unleash a tsunami and sink our fleets."
  
  "Not only that," the Third Augustus spoke, "but with the imminent evacuation of Guadalcanal, you will have lost your main logistical base inside the Zone Mortalis. Any force we send by your side will be condemned to starve slowly if the enemy doesn't offer battle in the next few days. Something Perseus Jackson told you bluntly was not going to happen."
  
  "Perseus Jackson," and oh, how this name felt like poison on his lips, "is not invincible."
  
  "He is not," Caligula agreed. "But I advise prudence nonetheless. It is quite obvious that you have lost the upper hand in this campaign of the Sea of Monsters. You're playing a card game with a mad Demigod, and if his latest cheating is any indication, he has already replaced all the cards and prepared for your counterattack before you ever thought you would need a counter-strike."
  
  The former Consul grimaced. This unfortunately rang true. But the bastard had captured his wife!
  
  "This 'Adjudicator' role must have huge flaws!"
  
  "Neo Romulus," the other Emperor sighed, before wincing when he glared at him. "I suppose it has, yes, but the most obvious ones aren't going to work. Perseus Jackson is not going to rape your wife, swear to abandon his Great Quest as he is on the eve of triumph, or try to break as many Ancient Laws as he can in the next month. The son of the Earthshaker loves for everyone to believe he is insane, but he is incredibly clever. Until the Lupercalia, it is quite likely he will fulfil assiduously the duties of an Adjudicator, whatever they may be."
  
  "Yes," Neo Mithras intervened to support Caligula, "for him to pull that stunt for the whole world, he had to have found ancient documents from millennia ago, and be quite sure it would give him a modest victory over the Titaness and ourselves. The good news in the middle of this disaster is whatever his goals, he had to make Isis a true Goddess in the process."
  
  "There are already rumours it happened because the Olympian whore did not respect her part of the bargain." He was an Emperor, a true Augustus of the most powerful triumvirate to have ever existed now. He wouldn't scowl. "And while he gave my wife her Apotheosis, he did it by raising her in opposition to the Throne of Love, not by usurping the Dove completely. The Throne of Love still has its current holder."
  
  "I will concede it is half a victory, but after several millennia, it confirms the foundations of our plan are sound."
  
  Of course his 'allies' were focusing on that instead of helping him free his wife!
  
  "I advise you to agree to the exchange of prisoners Jackson proposed. With Isis a true immortal now, this defeat will be easily compensated for in the months to come."
  
  "If your wives were the ones to be 'honoured guests' of Perseus Jackson, would you follow your own advices and negotiate with the little bastard?"
  
  The disgruntled faced made it clear that no, they wouldn't.
  
  "That's all very interesting," Neo Mithras cleared his throat. "But without Isis to help you, you can't begin the usurpation ritual, never mind complete it. It will blow up in your face, one hundred times out of one hundred."
  
  Yes, he had thought about it in the last twenty-four hours.
  
  "I'm sorry Neo Romulus, but the risks are-"
  
  "I need Medea." Marcus Antonius said imperiously.
  
  Silence greeted his words. Technically, the third Immortal Sorceress wasn't part of the Triumvirate, no matter what Olympus and other foolish deities believed. But there was no denying that her hatred for Olympus made her a very powerful ally for their ambitions.
  
  "You said an army or a fleet can't reinforce me in time," the Second Augustus of the Triumvirate insisted. "Very well, I accept that. But Medea can."
  
  "Medea is not your wife." Neo Mithras commented with a smile. "And her services are quite expensive. We can't also forget that we don't have enough information about the duties of an Adjudicator. Yes, there are likely weaknesses. But as it is, we don't know them, and assaulting the Forge-Fortress of our enemy will result in senseless slaughter and the Spear of the Gods no doubt joining all the other sunk warships which tried to kill Perseus Jackson."
  
  "Then we will find them," he said grimly. "What if the little bastard decides that after his first victory, he can do the same to your wives?"
  
  The argument, as much as the two other Emperors tried to hide hit, really struck true.
  
  "We are going to mobilise our informants on Olympus and elsewhere to get the answers you want," Neo Helios replied for two. "But you will owe us."
  
  3 January 2007, the Third Palace-Fortress, somewhere near Rhodes under the Mediterranean Sea
  
  She woke up.
  
  And for the first time, she felt at peace.
  
  It was really blissful.
  
  The nightmares were gone.
  
  Everything had been a nightmare.
  
  She raised her hand and tried to summon the water into creating her a new dress.
  
  And suddenly the pain exploded in her arm.
  
  She had been already leaving her bed.
  
  Her strength vanished and it took her warrior's reflexes to fall on it and not on the carpet nearby.
  
  "What in the name by the Pit-"
  
  "Careful, sister," the sensation of pain vanished, and light blue water caressed her skin, "you aren't as powerful as you once were."
  
  Fortunately, she recognised this voice.
  
  "Rhode," she shook her head as her sister materialised and helped her used the bed as an improvised seat. "Why do I feel so weak?"
  
  "What do you remember?" She didn't like the expression. It was one of pity. It wasn't supposed to be like that. She was the one who protected her sisters. She was-
  
  Something flashed at the surface of her thoughts.
  
  An artefact shaped like a crown of blue-green tentacles. The laughter of a spurned lover. Pain. More pain. The whispers of-
  
  She tried to banish it from her mind, and it was incredibly difficult.
  
  "I take it they weren't nightmares, then."
  
  "They weren't."
  
  "How long?"
  
  Rhode hesitated.
  
  "We can have that conversation once-"
  
  "Rhode. I am not one of the guinea fowls sired by the Master of Olympus. How long?"
  
  "Three thousand and five hundred years," the Light of the Sea answered grimly. "Give it or take it a few decades."
  
  Millennia. She had known it was going to be bad, but still-
  
  Millennia. And the worst part was that as the nightmares were still trying to echo in the recesses of her head, she almost understood it. Would you send someone to free her, knowing there was a chance the heroine would be condemned to suffer the same torment as she?
  
  Millennia. And as she tightened her fists, she could watch over her entire body, helped in that by the mirror at the other end of the bedroom. Black hair. Green eyes.
  
  While she had forgotten a lot, she had not lost all her memories.
  
  "I lost my immortality. How?"
  
  "Our mortal brother had to cut deeply to free you."
  
  She snorted.
  
  "Not one of our brothers?"
  
  "There was a Great Prophecy made some decades ago. Father had to make a good effort to not sleep with mortals, sister."
  
  "I really missed a lot, it seems." And by all the abysses, it had been such a long time she felt so weak. She would really have to train once again.
  
  "You did." Rhode hesitated. "Your name, I'm afraid it is-"
  
  "Lost? Yes." The former Heiress to the Throne of Atlantis grimaced. "It is part of the nightmares. It is too bad, I liked it. Does someone remember my mortal name?"
  
  "Our parents do, of course, but not anyone else...Aspasia."
  
  "And does anyone call her children that in this day and age?"
  
  "Probably not," her favourite sister smirked. "I think these days the new variant is Aspen."
  
  "Aspen," she mused, "I like it."
  
  She tried to leave the seat-bed, and her legs failed once again.
  
  Predictably, Rhode laughed.
  
  "You should try the same one day, sister. You wake up and kick Antaeus where he deserves to be hit, and the next moment, you've slept for three millennia and lost all your divine powers. I suppose it is too much to hope my symbol of power survived?"
  
  She had hoped for an answer, but there wasn't any-
  
  "Mother?"
  
  Rhode was suddenly not alone in the bedroom. There was little Kymopoleia, of course, but no one sane could give her all the attention, not when there was-
  
  Aspen felt herself be embraced in a hug she didn't realise to have missed so much.
  
  "Welcome home, daughter."
  
  3 January 2007, the Docks, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  It had been a few hours since they had seen the entrails of the Forge of All Perils, and Erica Keller was still struggling with the sheer gigantism of it.
  
  It seemed completely impossible, when you marvelled at the massive lake where dozens of warships were anchored, that a tiny group of Demigods could storm it and achieve what no one had done before.
  
  It didn't get better when you saw the bones of the Drakon. The daughter of Sol wasn't a coward, but if you didn't shiver when contemplating the fangs of the ancient monster, you were either stupid or utterly mad.
  
  And now she was here, on a large balcony overhanging over the docks of the Forge of All Perils. Despite the early hour, the activity was already frenetic; a small army of Telekhines and denizens of the seas were everywhere, repairing damaged warships, transporting vast quantities of explosives and food, and more tasks she hadn't a clue about.
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad was turning his back on her when she arrived.
  
  "According to my network," the son of Poseidon began as she was beginning to study the defences of this lake-submerged volcano, "your squadron left the Golden Horn with five warships. Your entire Cohort was five hundred Legionnaires-strong, and to these numbers could be added some three thousand Legionnaires and one thousand maintenance automatons. Correct?"
  
  Erica gaped. How did he-
  
  No. It was better to not be surprised anymore that Perseus Jackson knew information that shouldn't be available to him.
  
  "Correct," the female Tribune cleared her throat with some difficulty. "But we have suffered massive losses. Of the original squadron, evidently, we only have the Jupiter Invictus. And it is because you generously loaned us the Golden Fleece that I have ninety-six Legionnaires left under my command."
  
  Yes, she had lost four out of five soldiers of her Cohort. And the worst part was that it could have been far worse than it had been.
  
  "And some eight hundred-plus Auxiliaries are still alive," the commander of the Suicide Squad enounced as if it was no big deal. "The automatons went overboard or got crippled one by one during this disastrous expedition."
  
  "I know," and she didn't like listening to someone repeating the cold, ugly facts, for all that technically they had fulfilled the goals they had been sent to accomplish in the first place. "I think that by leaving the remaining ships of the Twelfth Legio here, the remains of my Cohort can crew adequately the Jupiter Invictus and provide you some fire support for the next battle."
  
  "Ah, yes, speaking of that," Perseus Jackson stared at the water below with what had to be a grimace, "there isn't going to be a next battle."
  
  "Err...I don't understand."
  
  The black-haired Demigod made a sound that was too cold to be a chuckle.
  
  "I wouldn't be unhappy if the Triumvirate decided to attack the Forge of All Perils, but I don't think we can rely upon them to do the stupid thing. They know that before they can mount a major offensive, we will have replenished our missile stocks, and all the Demigods and Legacies we have here will be back at full strength. As long as they haven't forgotten Actium and the naval beating I gave them during this Quest, I don't think they will try a frontal assault here."
  
  Erica wasn't going to say he was wrong.
  
  The gates which had opened to let the Inevitable Doom and all the other ships enter this volcanic lake were massive and completely refurbished. Breaking through them would require days of effort. The only alternative was to climb up the slopes of the volcano. When you knew Jackson's monstrous auxiliaries had built armoured redoubts and big batteries everywhere to prevent exactly that and sink entire fleets at the same time, you knew this solution wasn't one.
  
  "But you don't think the Triumvirate leader is going to agree to a prisoner exchange."
  
  "I would love him to." Perseus Jackson mused. "While the Golden Fleece healed the physical injuries, it can't heal the minds and souls. And the reality is that my forces, as well as your Cohort, have seen too much. They desperately need months to rest, preferably within the boundaries of New Byzantium and in the middle of their friends."
  
  "But you don't think it is going to happen." The tone employed made it clear.
  
  "One can always hope," the younger Demigod rolled his shoulders. "But it is an unfortunate fact that on Olympus, you can only keep a secret if no one knows that this critical piece of information exists. And with the waves I created in the last days, I'm reasonably confident that every major God and Goddess devoted some part of his or her power to remember the rules applying to an Adjudicator. And to make it worse, the Triumvirate has been around for a long, long time, and they have lot of money and resources all across the world. The question isn't if they will find the information they need; it is if they will find it before this year's Lupercalia."
  
  The three days of celebration were from the thirteenth to the fifteenth of February, so fortunately, it wasn't too far away.
  
  "You must have already a counter-move prepared." One red eye and one green eye turned to stare. "You are Perseus Jackson. I refuse to think the Demigod who found a way to win one round against a Titaness couldn't think of a way to use his new duties as bait for something else."
  
  "You're not wrong," the son of Poseidon conceded. "That said, it is a bit more complicated than that. To begin with, I didn't have many fall-back plans to free the God of the Forges and survive the power of a Titaness. Most of my contingencies involved becoming an Adjudicator at some point. I wish I could challenge a Titaness otherwise, but I can't. I wasn't strong enough for that, and to be painfully fair, no one among our group is as we speak."
  
  This was almost reassuring, in a way. After slaying a Drakon, demolishing Triumvirate fleets right and left, challenging Circe and getting away with it, freeing Calypso to fight her mother, and going to Hell, one could really wonder where the limits of the Suicide Squad were to be found.
  
  "I was a bit more worried about not freeing the God of the Forges in time to do any good. And I also preferred that the majority of the Suicide Squad survived the ordeal."
  
  "Surely by now the Triumvirate can't exactly muster anything comparable to the Titaness of the Seas."
  
  "No. But this doesn't mean the danger is over, Tribune. In fact, now that we're approaching the endgame, a single misstep could prove fatal in my attempts to complete this Great Quest. Why do you think I tried to swear eternal friendship to so many people?"
  
  The worst part, Erica Keller mused internally, was that she didn't even know if he was serious or not...
  
  4 January 2007, the New Onyx Palace, the Underworld
  
  Persephone had to admit, she had had concerns Calypso would come in obsidian armour or something equally outrageous for their marriage.
  
  Thankfully, this dreadful possibility had been averted.
  
  While the lower part of the Titaness' wedding dress had been woven to imitate the black scales of a reptile, the upper part confirmed it was true black spider silk, as dark as the hair and the eyes of the immortal wearing the splendid gown.
  
  "Nice diadem," the younger immortal commented with a smile.
  
  "Mother kept some old jewels I offered her while I ruled over the Hesperides Garden. It would have been a shame not to use them."
  
  Persephone giggled.
  
  "True, and they happen to be black...your favourite colour, if I'm not mistaken."
  
  Calypso merely raised an eyebrow.
  
  "Someone has to take the colour black to celebrate our union, and you two didn't volunteer."
  
  "She has a point," Khione murmured, and as she took two step forwards, the atmosphere felt far colder than it had any rights to be, yet it managed to stay refreshing and pleasant. As could be expected, the Queen of Snow and Ice was beautiful: her white hair was perfectly synchronised with the white-blue wedding dress she had chosen for today.
  
  "She has, yes," Persephone had chosen a red dress for the wedding, to go with her silver skin and crimson elaborate hairstyle. "Our Champions are ready?"
  
  "They are."
  
  "Then let not our future husband wait any further."
  
  Classic music of violins and other chord instruments began to play out the moment they passed the gates, and after twenty metres, their Champions followed on their heels. As could be expected, their robes had been chosen to compliment their own, albeit with some differences: her half-sister, for example, had the black scales-theme from the neck to the shoes, giving off the impression she could transform into a Hydra at any moment.
  
  Overall, though, Persephone was very satisfied by the effect.
  
  Three Goddesses and three Champions. Two Sirens of Gemstones, two female Ice Drakons, and two Night Hydras.
  
  They were powerful, beautiful, and the Underworld had taken their hearts.
  
  They were regal.
  
  And they walked into a throne room almost emptied of any spectators.
  
  This was a deliberate choice on their part, and their husband had agreed.
  
  The news had already begun to spread out, and to say the reactions had not been positive in certain places was an understatement of the highest order.
  
  Thus aside from their Champions, which as representatives of their power and the Suicide Squad deserved to be here, each had sent a single invitation.
  
  To her displeasure, Persephone had been the only one which had had her letter returned unopened.
  
  Thankfully, it had been several days ago, and the thought didn't manage to break her serenity nowadays.
  
  If her mother didn't want to participate in her wedding, so be it. The former Goddess of Spring had invited Hecate instead, who had come dressed like a witch: long black hat, elegant sleeveless black dress showing plenty of skin tattooed with sorcery glyphs.
  
  Khione, unsurprisingly, had invited her father. The God of the Northern Wind had answered the call, appearing like a regal king of northern Scandinavia, his hair as white as his daughter, and his majestic blue uniform half-disappearing under the fur of what had to be a monstrous polar bear.
  
  When it came to the former prisoner of Ogygia, there had never been any question Tethys would be invited. Though given recent events, there had been some uncertainty the Titaness would accept. These worries were now put at rest; Oceanus' wife had come, and not as a pirate: instead she had left the outlaw clothes for some sort of marchioness attire - very similar to the ones the French nobles wore before the Revolution removed plenty of overinflated heads. Of course, no mortal noble could have tried to make an entire costume of flowing water like she did and with these shining beige-blue colours.
  
  There had been more uncertainty to who exactly Hades would invite today. It was out of the question to send a letter to the King of Olympus, obviously, and most of her siblings didn't approve her choice, so they were also out. In the end, it appeared that Poseidon in person had been the recipient of the last invitation.
  
  Equally unsurprisingly, the God of the Seas had chosen to play his part by dressing in a dark blue Admiral's uniform. Nothing was missing; not the parade sword, and certainly not the beard of an old man of the sea.
  
  Persephone merely blinked, but deep inside, she was pleasantly surprised.
  
  As far as messages went, it was a powerful one in favour of their union. More importantly, it was a hint Atlantis intended to do far more than speak platitudes should hostilities open against someone who wasn't going to be named here.
  
  And Hades-
  
  Hades was now in front of them, and they gave him their hands. Three Queens, but a single union. Three Domains, forever bound to the Lord of Hell. Three Hearts, for as long as there were souls to judge and rule under the world of mortals.
  
  Hades was indomitable, and looking more beautiful than ever.
  
  And she loved him.
  
  It had taken a lot of time for her to acknowledge this truth, but she loved him.
  
  His hand's touch was enough to lit the inferno inside her chest.
  
  "Shall we, my Queens?"
  
  "We shall," Khione, Calypso and she all answered together.
  
  And the four of them advanced together towards the altar, leaving their old lives behind them.
  
  4 January 2007, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  If someone had told her before this Great Quest she would enjoy spending her free time in near-boiling water, Annabeth would have thought they were raving mad.
  
  Yet here she was, wearing a black swimsuit, and doing exactly that. The fact the water and the steam didn't cook her like it had weeks ago also meant she had become stronger. The training and the battles worked, assuming you survived it. And after some time, you found it pleasant.
  
  "So you think the Eidolons were created by the Earth Mother?" the daughter of Athena asked the girl she was sharing the huge pool with.
  
  "It is only a guess," Lou Ellen replied, and Annabeth almost blushed because her bikini hid very little of the curves of the daughter of Hecate. "But it would explain why the three possessing the Gorgons were able to pursue their own whims. As the only being who can give them orders is soundly asleep-"
  
  "There is no one that can tell them some things are forbidden, yes." The grey-eyed Demigoddess grimaced. "That doesn't explain why the Gorgons thought getting Possessed was a good idea."
  
  "Power," the sorceress replied as it was obvious...and then maybe it was, for her.
  
  "Power?"
  
  "They wanted enough power to break the curse your mother wove into their souls."
  
  Annabeth snorted.
  
  "Good luck with that. The only way to break a divine curse upon yourself is to be so imbued with the divine that...oh."
  
  It would require them to become true Goddesses, much like a certain Egyptian ruler had.
  
  "Yes, oh." Lou Ellen Blackstone smirked.
  
  Annabeth analysed all the details she may have missed in a few seconds. And she quickly arrived to an unpleasant conclusion - unpleasant for the Gorgon sisters, that was.
  
  "It didn't work. Once they got the power boost of the second Curse, they were unable to advance past that."
  
  "That's my opinion too," the other blonde Demigoddess nodded, basking in the near-boiling water. "The beginning of the plan was honestly not stupid, but the next steps failed. And once their power stagnated, the result was that instead of suffering a single Curse, they suffered the drawbacks of two, and they couldn't remove the Possession themselves. This must have pleased the Eidolons. The Gorgon sisters, on the other hand, certainly didn't enjoy the situation."
  
  "They suddenly had more power than they ever had at their fingertips, but never enough to accomplish their ambitions."
  
  "It is a good tale to warn everyone against the quest of absolute power."
  
  "Like with the Primordials," Annabeth's shudder wasn't feigned at all. "I seriously hope we won't get end up facing more cursed artefacts of them for the rest of this Great Quest."
  
  "According to a certain source of mine," in all likelihood she spoke of the leader of the Suicide Squad, "there is a strong possibility the Primordials follow the Rule of Three when it comes to their interventions. They are too powerful; they can't intervene too often in mortal affairs without causing tremendous collateral damage. So we should be fine for this Great Quest."
  
  "For this Great Quest," Annabeth replied with a sigh. Demigods and Demigoddesses generally thought themselves very lucky to complete one without losing their lives in a mortal lifetime. The Suicide Squad was already participating in its second, and given the earth-shaking events, one could hardly imagine it was going to stop there.
  
  "Small victories, don't forget," the blonde sorceress smiled.
  
  "Does it apply to the Sire and the bat traitor?"
  
  "Probably not," Lou Ellen's smile disappeared immediately. "There was a message from the God of the Forges around twelve hours ago. We were more or less commanded to keep the Key theft a secret. And the way it was written, I think whatever it is that Key is supposed to open, it isn't good news for anyone."
  
  "I can't believe a Demigoddess thought it was a good idea."
  
  "What were we saying about power?"
  
  Annabeth laughed, but her heart wasn't in it.
  
  "Yes, but the Gorgons," it was difficult at the best of times to call them 'my half-sisters', "were already cursed by my mother. I don't like it, but the argument can be made that since they were hideous after the first Curse, the second and the Possession were just increasing the degree of ugliness. And apparently, since the Possession was voluntary, they retained a fairly high degree of control. The bat traitor, however, was not cursed before we entered the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "True. There are researches going on at New Byzantium, but our shadow-shrouded traitor didn't leave us papers or anything to conveniently explain exactly how she was prepared for her transformation, the identity of the 'Sire', or more about her motives than what we know."
  
  "And the ex-Titaness of the Drakons hadn't any ideas on that front."
  
  "I'm pretty sure she was lying." Lou Ellen smirked. "Yes, she was our ally for this battle, but ally doesn't mean we won her allegiance or anything like that. The Third Queen of Hell had to know that whatever she told us would be relayed to Olympus in record time. And since she holds a massive grudge against the Olympians, she stayed quiet."
  
  "Power and bad decisions all around," she commented peevishly.
  
  She turned her head, and Lou Ellen was giving her an evil smirk.
  
  "What?"
  
  "You're one to talk, your Owlishness." The daughter of Athena groaned instinctively. She hated that nickname! All thoughts about stopped with the next words, though. "Don't think I have missed the doe eyes you're giving my boyfriend."
  
  "I do not!"
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone's black eyes suddenly seemed to suck all the light of the Grand Strategium.
  
  "Okay," the grey-eyed Demigoddess confessed, well aware her cheeks were burning, and not because of the hot water. "It's just a crush! With Luke telling me he loves me like a sister, not as a potential girlfriend, I have been looking elsewhere!"
  
  "You really have a thing for bad boys, don't you?" The sorceress chuckled.
  
  Annabeth was sure that by now, from forehead to chin, she had to be redder than a tomato.
  
  "It isn't like that!" She weakly protested, before her brain conjured images that ruined all her efforts to concentrate on something else.
  
  "You're a horrible liar, dear." The black-eyed Demigoddess swam and halved the distance separating them. "And I think it's time we have a serious conversation on this spicy subject, you and I."
  
  4 January 2007, Panathenaic Stadium, Athens, Greece
  
  Athens had changed.
  
  Evidently, saying the opposite would have been a far bigger surprise.
  
  The last time she had seen the city had been a long, long time ago.
  
  Which Olympian had said once that no mortal kingdom, no matter how powerful, was nothing against the ravages of time?
  
  Oh, yes. Her.
  
  "We could turn away, sister."
  
  "Yes, we could." She chuckled at the stunned expression of her little sister. If there was one thing she had really missed, it was their genuine emotions which were not fuelled by wrath or hatred. "What? No matter what the Fates pretend, we all have a choice in the end."
  
  "So-"
  
  "It's just not a good one."
  
  "The food is far better now that it was in the old times. I loved the olive oil we could add to every dish."
  
  "I'm sure you did, Euryale. But haven't you missed the problem? These meals are better, but they are also expensive. And we have no money save what we awoke with."
  
  "I'm sure we could earn more." Her expression of disbelief must have been evident, because Stheno quickly finished her sentence. "They are trying to rebuild the Pantheon. Since we have the gifts of architecture, I'm sure we could find a way to become the architects-in-chief of the project."
  
  "And how do you intend to explain to the present workers that you were there when the first temples of the Acropolis were built?"
  
  "Err..."
  
  "Moreover, without her permission, staying too close to the Acropolis would be just a death sentence."
  
  "We could ask your lover. Now that we are back to...to Demigoddesses like we were before the incident, maybe-"
  
  "I will not call him!" She realised she had shouted, and she leashed her anger as fast as she could. "I am not going to call him. His son...it was his son who broke our curses, sister. I can't face him. Not today."
  
  "If so," Euryale snorted, "then we really have to enter the stadium before it closes for the evening."
  
  "There's still two hours. We have plenty of time-"
  
  "Let's deal with this before I lose my courage."
  
  The last strange money papers were just enough to pay for the entrance, and the trio of sisters was able to step into what the guides had called the Panathenaic Stadium.
  
  It was a massive monument dedicated to sport, one which would have generated plenty of approval at Olympia in the old days.
  
  It was made entirely of marble, as far as they could see.
  
  "It was rebuilt from an abandoned stadium for the 1896 Olympics."
  
  "The Master of Olympus must have loved that," Euryale snarked. "Though I don't understand why they don't paint the marble instead of leaving it in this plain white. Do they really think everything was white in our time?"
  
  "Who knows," she shrugged. "Athens has one thousand times more people now than it did, but the Acropolis and the old city are in ruins."
  
  And that was when there was something left. There were just a few columns of the colossal Temple of Zeus, and plenty of other impressive monuments had disappeared without leaving a trace.
  
  "I see her. She's at the top, facing the track's turn."
  
  The climb of the marble steps was an exercise of humility. Without the Curses powering them, it became cruelly evident how little they had exercised their bodies for as far as they remembered. They were still Demigoddesses, yes. But the first Hellhound would easily defeat them without shedding too much fur in the process.
  
  She was waiting for them.
  
  The Mist had to hide her from those who hadn't the eyes to see, because somehow, three metres-tall hoplite women in bronze armour were not exactly common for this 'New Athens'.
  
  "Euryale. Stheno. Medusa."
  
  "Lady Athena," she replied for her sisters.
  
  Instantly, the grey glare pierced her like a divine arrow.
  
  "Mother," she grumbled.
  
  "Daughter."
  
  "That's as uncomfortable as we thought," Euryale sighed. "Can we please move on?"
  
  "She transformed us into monsters, sister!"
  
  "I did. And then you transformed yourselves into more terrible monsters, ensuring the transformation was irreversible. Am I wrong?"
  
  "No," the former legendary Gorgon monster grumbled. Why couldn't she stare at her eyes? They had her grey irises, but they were never able to master the piercing glare.
  
  "What do we do now?" Stheno asked. "We aren't monsters anymore, though I think the infamy of our name will ensure there will be more Gorgons spawned by the Pits. We are just Demigoddesses."
  
  "You can work on redeeming yourselves," Athena told them in her commanding tone. "Or you can choose another path. As Stheno suggested, you can call the Earthshaker and hope he is in a good mood."
  
  So she had been listening to her from the very beginning. Curse her. Yes, it was a figure of speech.
  
  "I will pass." As good as the sex had been, it had not been good enough to face everything which came after. "You never begin a meeting without having a plan, mother. Please give us the bad news."
  
  "The bad news, as you define it, is that you killed a son or a daughter of nearly every member of our Pantheon when you butchered the sailors who landed on your island. That's a mountain of bad blood that has not been forgotten. Should I remove my protection, you will be dead before the next dawn."
  
  Medusa groaned.
  
  Even if you weren't a daughter of Wisdom, you could tell where it was going. There weren't many places where the denizens of Olympus did not have the right to transform a few Demigoddesses who had displeased them into a defenceless animal..
  
  "Please tell us we are not going to eat at these wine-smelling tables again and give archery sessions with Chiron the centaur."
  
  "I won't say it, then." Had Athena uttered a joke? Quick, the world had to be ending...or maybe not.
  
  "I hated this freaking camp." Stheno grouched. "The sons of Apollo always mocked my architectural ideas."
  
  "And I got punished when I tried to burn the house of Artemis' Huntresses." Euryale added.
  
  "I kept saying that injuring the children of the War God during mock battles was just a nice prayer to Vengeance." Medusa affirmed piously, wincing when her mother gave her a disapproving expression. "What?"
  
  "I negotiated with a majority of the Council, and they agreed to assign you to a newly built house where you will stay the next year."
  
  "Oh, good," Stheno nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure-"
  
  "During daylight hours, you will gain a measure of humility and modesty by doing the chores of the other Quester Demigods you were so loud in disparaging for millennia. This you will do for one year or until I will be satisfied, whichever ends last."
  
  "Oh? And then we will be able to don our hoplite armours, surely?"
  
  "Not exactly," for those who doubted it, Medusa was willing to confirm it: her mother, Lady Athena, was a vengeful bitch. But saying it out loud may be a bit counter-indicated. "Once I will know for sure the punishment has its intended result, you will place yourselves under the service of Perseus Jackson, and for the next couple of years, you will have to train with him."
  
  Oh, no. Oh, no.
  
  Was there something worse in her lexicon than vengeful bitch, for the sake of curiosity?
  
  "He may still die in the Sea of Monsters, mother." Euryale tried.
  
  "In that case, daughter, you have nothing to fear, no?"
  
  "Nothing but fear itself," Medusa gritted between her teeth, truly aware that this punishment was awaiting them, no matter how hard they were going to try to escape it.
  
  5 January 2007, Healing Wing, Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  Leo knew instantly when he woke up.
  
  Because it hurt like he was burning in the flames of Hell!
  
  "RAAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!"
  
  And then something awfully cold and liquid hit him everywhere.
  
  "I give your 'Raargh' a nine out of ten, Amigo. But I advise not to lose control too much. I only have so much 'special extinguishers'."
  
  "What?" His vision was blurry for many, many seconds, until he realised it was some sort of icy-foam in his face causing it. "Jackson? Where-"
  
  He would have loved to continue his question, but his throat felt parched. Leo coughed.
  
  And the flames came out of his mouth.
  
  It was a good thing that a miniature snow storm erupted from his left, and stopped the fire before it burned everything.
  
  "Okay, that was cool," the young Demigod groaned miserably as he saw the mad grin. "You can thank Jade, you know. It's thanks to her ice cocoons that you fever finally decreased and you didn't burn from the inside."
  
  "Thank you, Jade," the reptilian-looking ex-Huntress sniffed and left the room without a word.
  
  Leo tried to escape the strange mattress where he had been sleeping, but his strength seemed to abandon him after a few gesticulations.
  
  "Careful, now," the son of Poseidon admonished him. "Don't overexcite yourself. You need to recover before you even think of leaving this room."
  
  "And where is this room exactly?" he managed to ask weakly.
  
  "The Forge of All Perils," the leader of the Suicide Squad placed a bottle of water in his hands, and when the drops began to fall into his mouth, they felt both divine and painful.
  
  His moan of pain was apparently seen as an incitation by Jackson to continue.
  
  "Your father said the surgical operation was a success; the Heart of the Forge has now replaced your normal heart. So congratulations: you are the first member of the Suicide Squad to have your heart replaced by a mechanical marvel of science! And you got a cool scar in the process, by the way."
  
  This was...not so bad? At least Leo didn't feel so, compared to the agony he had felt before. When he had begun to melt the Orichalcum anvil, it had been like someone was pouring molten metal on every part of his skin before burning his stomach.
  
  "But...but we won." His heart beat faster and-
  
  SWOOSH!
  
  He received more icy foam and other white stuff in his face.
  
  "I said to not overexcite yourself!" Leo was sure at that moment Jackson had 'volunteered' to monitor him so that he could get his fun.
  
  "Was it-" he spat plenty of foam from his mouth. "Was it necessary?"
  
  "Your hands were beginning to burn, and your ears were expelling smoke." The lone red eye towered over him while the mouth was malicious. "So yes, it was really necessary. I have many talents, but I am not that fire-proof."
  
  Leo stared.
  
  Perseus stared back, and Leo flinched.
  
  "Anyway, since you desire the answers so much: yes, we won the battle. I didn't get to inflict a true defeat upon the Titaness, but my plan was sufficient to convince her to throw the towel and return to the oceanic depths. Your father was freed, and nobody important was killed during the final confrontation. You were in fact the one who was the most heavily injured, since the nature of the operation made it impossible to use the Golden Fleece as long as you hadn't assimilated your new heart properly."
  
  "What?" The foam jet on his hands was really unpleasant.
  
  "No excitement!" Leo hoped it wasn't going to be a permanent affair, because he already hated this extinguisher. "And yes, I'm afraid this was the truth. The Golden Fleece heals, Amigo. If we had used it immediately, it would have removed the Heart of the Forge from your chest and regenerated your old one. It surely would have saved your life, but it also would have returned your little flamer problem to the starting line."
  
  Leo grimaced. He wasn't smart like plenty of heroes, but he knew what Jackson meant.
  
  "I could have died."
  
  "Yes," at least Jackson didn't try to pretend the contrary. "But in my partial opinion, the pyrokinesist gift would have killed you anyway if nothing was done; it would just have taken longer. It may have taken a decade or two, but the outcome was inevitable. There's a reason why your father tries to not giving his children this gift nowadays. It's not just incredibly potent and can be used for evil in cruel hands; it burns you from the inside too."
  
  "Err..." suddenly, excitement vanished, leaving only exhaustion. His head hit the large pillow again. "Okay, we won."
  
  Leo knew he should feel happier, but he felt so tired.
  
  "The flames...I will need to control them again?"
  
  "You will need to control your emotions along with them. The solution your father gave you has its advantages and its drawbacks."
  
  "Did I get taller?"
  
  He heard Jackson erupt in laughter.
  
  "You have gained more muscles, Amigo. But I'm afraid that the location where your body grew is one I am not going to check myself."
  
  Leo wanted to curse him, but he fainted again before the insults could come out of his mouth.
  
  5 January 2007, Palace of Love, Paris, France
  
  For the mortals, it appeared as a five-star hostel which happened to have a front view on the Eiffel Tower and several of the greatest monuments build next to the Seine River.
  
  For those who had the eyes to see through the Mist, it was of course more than that.
  
  There was enough splendour and extravagance in the architecture and the decorations to give the Palace four or five more stars.
  
  Naturally, if you could see it, you also knew it wasn't a place where you should come with young children.
  
  The pink-and-red statues of the entrance alone were welcoming you with very suggestive poses, and once you passed through the entrance hall, one could say it would take a particular blind man to not guess who owned this miniature paradise.
  
  Aphrodite was waiting for him at a table on the first floor, the remains of what had to be a copious breakfast in front of her.
  
  She had changed.
  
  By itself, the words meant nothing. Even Gods and Goddesses changed millennium after millennium, centuries after centuries. The Olympians were not the same as they had been after the end of the Titanomachy. It was one of the rare things that everyone - including his two brothers - would firmly agree upon.
  
  But Aphrodite had changed a lot in the last days.
  
  Her blonde mane was unkempt, and her body managed to combine something very close to satisfaction...and exhaustion. The almost-transparent silk nightgown hid almost nothing, which was why his eyes could clearly see her appearance was incredibly muscled.
  
  And then there were eyes. They clearly burned with some potent fire.
  
  "Poseidon."
  
  "Aphrodite."
  
  "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you came to plead the cause of your son." The Goddess of Love devoured a croissant in a vengeful manner.
  
  "Three and Thirteen, Aphrodite," the ruler of the Seas was sure his tone made his disappointment clear. "It is one of your worst Lust Curses, and I've seen men driven utterly mad by the minor ones."
  
  "You exaggerate everything."
  
  "No, I'm not. When some men prefer throwing themselves at Artemis in the vain hope it would help them end the Curse, despite knowing very well she will skewer them with arrows, the Curse is nothing but a disguised death sentence. Or should we speak of the time when you forced an entire city to mate with pigs, all the while each mating transformed them further and further into beasts?"
  
  Aphrodite scowled, but didn't retort. Instead she sipped the Ambrosia in the glass in front of her.
  
  "Fine. I may have gone...a bit overboard." The Goddess of Love admitted. "But your bastard deserved my wrath."
  
  "He solved your little marriage problem."
  
  "I wanted a divorce, not this solution!"
  
  "I think the Lady protests too much," the husband of Amphitrite managed to answer without gloating. "It's been a while since anyone had seen you that satisfied."
  
  Aphrodite had the good grace to blush.
  
  "Fine. Hephaestus at last has shown...he can have the vigour and the enthusiasm of his sire. Happy?"
  
  "Oh, yes," and he was recording that conversation. All Atlantis would cheer him for that juicy piece of blackmail.
  
  "Anyway. Your son didn't respect his part of the bargain. I was supposed to be able to absorb Isis inside myself, not end up with a Goddess of Water and the Nile."
  
  "You were the first to not respect your part of the bargain," Poseidon reminded her. "Your great misfortune is that for once, the Demigod you bargained with had the power to do something about it."
  
  Aphrodite scowled, but didn't lash out in anger. She preferred emptying all the plates in front of her. Judging by the evidence available, the carnal sessions with her husband required a lot of energy.
  
  "I was thinking about incinerating him. But it might go against the Laws to do it during a Quest. Then I thought about dungeons, torture instruments, and slave collars. I settled for this Curse."
  
  "Am I supposed to praise your restraint?" it really felt bad when he was the sane immortal in the room.
  
  "I am Lust and Passion, Poseidon. Your son wants to play the Great Game? I am ready to oblige him."
  
  If the Age of Olympus ended, there was no doubt it would be because the cycle of vengeance and retaliation would grow out of control.
  
  "Aphrodite. I don't know the exact terms of what you and my son settled for when you made a bargain, but one thing was sure: it created a link between you two, as tenuous as it is."
  
  "Yes?" Clearly, she didn't see what he wanted to show her.
  
  "Perseus is the Adjudicator of Love now, and this can last for close to an entire year."
  
  "I know that, but continue."
  
  "You might have not paid attention for the last days, but your Curse is clearly inactive, and will be for as long as he is the Adjudicator."
  
  "True, but I don't see-"
  
  "Have you considered the possibility," Poseidon turned his head to watch the Eiffel Tower in the distance, "that my son will find a way to cancel or negate your Curse entirely?"
  
  "Impossible!" The female Olympian replied immediately. "I am the only one who can cancel the Curse! And the other alternative is for your son to become immortal, which he is far from achieving!"
  
  "Some might say," the Lord of the Earthquakes and Horses mused, "that engineering the Apotheosis of an enemy Queen, becoming the Adjudicator with minimal Olympian support, and managing to free a God from the clutches of a Titaness were impossible feats too."
  
  Poseidon counted silently up to twelve before shrugging.
  
  "Do you want to take the risk Perseus achieves the impossible once again?"
  
  "You..." the flames burned in Aphrodite's eyes before receding. "You have a point."
  
  Any other time, it would have been time to crack a joke and remove the existing tensions between them.
  
  This time, it wasn't. Hephaestus' wife had not conceded anything for now.
  
  "The clear problem is that I did curse your son with all my divine essence gathered in a single place," the blonde-haired Goddess let a long pink cocktail dress replace her red nightgown. "To cancel the Curse, I will have to fulfil the same requirements again, and this can't be done on a whim."
  
  Nothing about the Ancient Laws was muttered or even hinted directly at, but both immortals understood it perfectly.
  
  "We're also supposed to stop with all the divine interventions in support of your son. Several daughters, yours included, were fined because your brother was in a very good mood. Next time, the punishment will undoubtedly be worse."
  
  Poseidon gave her a slightly ironic look. For this action at least, Aphrodite had to know she would get his support.
  
  "And the Triumvirate will be there. Don't give me that look! You know as much as I do that they're going to take the chance of challenging the current Adjudicator. The second Augustus of the Triumvirate has always been the passionate kind. He is not going to take the safe path."
  
  "May I suppose this means you are going to think about it?"
  
  Aphrodite watched him seriously for a good minute before nodding.
  
  "Yes, Poseidon, I will think about it."
  
  6 January 2007, somewhere into the Forge of All Perils, Sea of Monsters
  
  It had been somewhat a relief when Jackson hadn't asked her for blackmail when it came to the marriage of Lady Khione and the other Queens of Hell.
  
  Sure, the son of Poseidon had asked for photos, but then so had everyone else who hadn't been present, which could be translated as 'everyone in the Suicide Squad'.
  
  Of course, Perseus Jackson was looking tired and hardly his usual grinning self today. He could be best described as 'distracted'. Yes, that was the right word.
  
  Unfortunately, the remaining Huntresses weren't distracted at all. One could easily say they were as antagonistic as ever when she was nearby.
  
  "What is she doing here?" Ellen glared murderously when the door slammed closed behind them.
  
  "She is here because I want to speak to everyone who was once sworn to the Hunt Goddess." The leader of the Suicide Squad rebuffed her question like it was a bug to be squashed. "More questions that will waste my time? No? Excellent!"
  
  Jade passed a hand in her hair, preparing herself for the worse. Whatever the reason for this meeting, it seemed Jackson had decided to open it with iron gloves.
  
  It also had to be noted that the place for the meeting was really a dark one. It looked like an amphitheatre for Telekhines had been given that honour, except all the seats were made of obsidian, awfully uncomfortable, and only a tiny amount of light could at all times illuminate the near-empty room.
  
  "I have reasons to believe the Sire of the Drakons has plans for the Huntresses, and so far, he has been able to accomplish each and every one of his goals."
  
  Jade hated to be proven right so quickly.
  
  Ellen wasn't convinced, clearly. And she was no shy telling him so.
  
  "Why shouldn't we blame you instead of the Sire of the Drakons, Jackson? After all, whatever fake apologies you gave before, you were awfully satisfied to see us fall one by one!"
  
  "Please remember," the lone red eye fixed Ellen emotionlessly, "that the only Huntress I can say to have arranged the dismissal from the Hunt is Jade."
  
  "That's not-"
  
  "He's right, Ellen," Kimiko intervened, grimacing and trying at the same time to not show her long blue serpentine tongue. The Huntress has recovered surprising quickly from the madness effects of the Sunken Temple. "Jackson certainly did nothing to save us from our mistakes, but he didn't plot all the way to ensure we would die before the end of this Quest. If he really wanted us to perish, he could have thrown all of us against the Drakon, and we would have shared the fate of Phoebe, Kalinda and Eudoxia."
  
  "Still-"
  
  "Your fellow Huntress is right," Perseus Jackson confirmed. "And to be blunt, I only had use for Jade, since she proved to have a heart and the ability to mourn for a friend, something none of the rest you manifested."
  
  Save Iphigenia, all the girls present looked like someone had punched them in the face.
  
  "You could try to corrupt us one by one. Or you want to avoid Lady Artemis' wrath!"
  
  Perseus facepalmed. Hard.
  
  "Dear Huntress, your mistress is already incredibly angry at me. Something about the fact I'm the architect of what was an incredibly potent wave of Lust and Love spreading across the world. And before that, we weren't exactly eternal friends either. She was furious that four Huntresses out of nine died under my watch and one chose the Queen of Snow instead of her while she lived. I'm sorry, but after five Huntresses removed from the Suicide Squad's order of battle, the fate of the four last ones was immaterial. The Lady of the Hunt was going to be mad at me no matter what I did to appease her wrath."
  
  The worst part was that it definitely felt like the truth. And Jade was certain that Perseus had begun this Quest expecting to earn Artemis' eternal enmity.
  
  "But why now are you thinking that the Sire-"
  
  "Because of me," Iphigenia said coldly. "Am I right?"
  
  Jade was powerful now. Ice flowed in her veins, and she could hear the song of Frost. While she couldn't change herself into a true Drakon for now, as she wasn't ready for it, she could take a hybrid form which would bolster her offensive skills.
  
  And every time she so much glanced at the ex-Huntress in the blue-green scaly suit, her senses screamed DANGER.
  
  "You are." The Demigod who had survived the attacks of the Titaness Tethys confirmed her statement.
  
  "How so?" Kimiko asked. "You told us Nocturna was on the island, stealing some object...oh."
  
  "Funny, isn't it?" Perseus' smile was only a shadow of his normal grins. "I admit it took me a couple of days to arrive to that conclusion myself. Yes, Nocturna did steal an object precious to the Gods. But why did we think that's all she could do? It isn't like we monitored her moves. She could have, you know, created a sort of magical anchor to ensure that once the Cursed Crown was removed from Charybdis' hands, it would end up in an ancient temple of the Dreaming One."
  
  "But that would assume she knew my birth name," Iphigenia frowned. "And I certainly didn't tell her. Only Phoebe knew, and we didn't speak of it aboard the Inevitable Doom. Unless you told her, Jackson?"
  
  "I didn't know," the son of Poseidon admitted, and Ellen and Jenna opened their mouths in surprise. "What? I am resourceful, not omniscient."
  
  Jade giggled, this was too funny to not take the amusement where it come from. Even the other girls derided themselves.
  
  It didn't last long, but it felt good.
  
  "All right," Jade said in the name of every girl assembled in the dark amphitheatre. "I understand your point. Of our original numbers, we have four dead, I left the service of the Goddess, and Iphigenia and Kimiko have been marked, one by the Drowning One and the other by the icy curses of the Ice Drakon, and the latter is synonymous with the Sire."
  
  As a consequence, it left only Ellen and Jenna as the unmarked and unwavering Huntresses.
  
  "You think the Sire is going to try to ensure we leave the Hunt or we die before the end of the Great Quest," Jenna spoke for the two of them.
  
  "I do," Perseus bluntly replied.
  
  "Given the 'successes' this monster had, I'm not going to tell it is impossible we will perish," the Huntress' eyes narrowed and her fists tightened in controlled fury. "But what would be the point? Don't get me wrong, Jackson, I am in no hurry to die. But as I'm pretty sure you know, there are thousands of other girls serving Lady Artemis. Whether the nine of us die, break our vows, demand to leave the Hunt formally, or transform into something new, it won't be the end of the Hunt. The Goddess losing nine worth Huntresses will be a tragedy, but hardly a military disaster. The loss of experience will sting, but the casualties will be compensated in mere months, assuming they haven't already been."
  
  "Yes." Jade didn't know if it was more frightening that Perseus agreed with one of her former sisters, or that he looked resigned and grim. "This was my reasoning too when I investigated the problem. Numbers aren't the answer. Or rather, they're not, from a military perspective. On the other hand, there is the symbolism. The blood of virgin girls flowed. It could be a sacrifice."
  
  "Could?" Kimiko wondered.
  
  Perseus grimaced.
  
  "There are problems with that theory. To begin with, nine isn't a sacred number for the Lady of the Hunt, or for most Olympian deities. She had far more than nine Huntresses when the Hunt was assembled for the first time. She was not given nine Domains when she knelt in front of the Master of Olympus."
  
  Not for the first time, Jade was forced to acknowledge that while Perseus Jackson did crazy stuff most of the time, there was a redoubtable sharp mind behind the vicious grins.
  
  "Could it be a coincidence?" Ellen asked. "The Sire may have need of something incredibly important, and we're just the collateral damage?"
  
  "It's possible, I guess," and his voice made it obvious the son of Poseidon didn't believe it for a single second. "But I don't believe in coincidences in the first place, and there have been way too many instances of enemy actions during this Great Quest to not plan for the worst."
  
  7 January 2007, Ultra-Giant Yacht Germanicus, close to Saint Lucia, eastern Caribbean
  
  The day had begun on an excellent note, in that case incredibly good sex. Then he had gone swimming, before eating first-class grilled lobster.
  
  And then there were plenty of good news from his sister.
  
  Neo Helios should have known it wasn't going to last.
  
  "I still think your so-called 'Ultra-Giant Yacht' remains a colossal waste of money."
  
  The true Emperor of the Roman World frowned. These were moments like this where he was frustrated he needed allies like those.
  
  Alas, saying it out loud would be counter-productive.
  
  "You have your idea about what can be proper headquarters; I have mine, Neo Romulus. Contrary to an old-fashioned fortress, in case of setbacks my ship can just sail away when I give the order. And as your greatest headache proved, the concept of a 'Q-Yacht' is sound, as long as its armament is appropriate for the encountered threats."
  
  It was a strange irony that he hadn't known of the efforts of Perseus Jackson to build himself a super-mega yacht before it sailed. Had they unconsciously copied each other? Possible. Great minds thought alike, after all, and the Germanicus - named for his beloved father - was supposed to fulfil many of the same needs the Suicide Squad had indentified for Questers deploying far away from their bases.
  
  "You make it sound so clever. Yet I don't see you take the field. Instead you are trying to work upon your sun tan and-"
  
  "Marcus Antonius," the First Augustus of the Triumvirate interrupted in a cold forty degrees lower than the current temperature of the Caribbean Sea around him, "first of all, no matter how fast, the Germanicus would need more than a month to reach the Sea of Monsters. Given how little time is left, there is no point wasting fuel and resources, assuming of course I wouldn't be intercepted by some Atlantean military forces or someone else. Then I will remind you that you and I are allies. The oaths we swore are an alliance, not a suicide pact. And you were the one who assured us before the Battle of Forge MP-42 that you didn't need our help."
  
  The Second Augustus glared, which combined with his unshaven beard of seven days, gave him really the looks of a proper barbarian. Isis being kidnapped by Perseus Jackson had really hit the former Magister Equitum hard.
  
  "I apologise," the other Roman said at last.
  
  "Apologies accepted," Neo Helios said magnanimously. "Now I presume you want the information we were able to bribe away from Olympus and other sources?"
  
  "I do, please." The holographic image of the other Augustus shivered for a second. "But I would like to know more of the reinforcements incoming first."
  
  "Well," he cleared his throat, "Medea sent us a message five hours ago to tell that she's on her way. For the generous price we've negotiated, she agreed to bring several of her most powerful assets, but for operational secrecy, she had to stay tight-lipped in her messages. You will have to welcome her at the Labyrinth's Gate, though, with at least one large transport."
  
  "That is not going to be a problem."
  
  "Unfortunately, you won't be able to count upon Circe." He stated as he watched the magnificent sea and the paradise island in the distance. "Jupiter decided to levy a significant fine via Athena as a sort of counter-ransom, and the Titaness of Magic has been involved as an intermediary. It seems that there's now enough proof she helped you, and Olympus didn't like that at all. Circe being Circe, it's clear she will likely plead you negotiated her help using false allegations, and she was clearly an innocent party unaware of what was truly going on."
  
  "Olympus will never believe that."
  
  "No, but Olympus will fine her and let her amuse herself with her spa." Neo Helios shrugged. "In the end, the Master of Olympus is likely going to consider that having to tolerate Perseus Jackson's presence on her island was an adequate punishment they will have a lot of difficulties to beat without rousing her mother's wrath."
  
  Circe would likely not be among the top victors of this Great Quest, but she wouldn't be among the defeated parties either.
  
  "As a result, your reinforcements will be limited to Medea and whatever forces you're able to move to the Zone Mortalis in extremis. Now for the Adjudicator, there is indeed a flaw."
  
  "Ha! I knew it, by the-"
  
  "It isn't a good one from your perspective." The First Augustus was prompt to kill the enthusiasm of his ally. "An Adjudicator can be challenged. But as this position which has been often synonymous with impartial Judge is often handed out by immortals, it is not so simple. You need to find someone suitable to play the role of 'High Judge'. If you are successful, you will be able to challenge Perseus Jackson to a series of trials. He loses, he is no longer the Adjudicator, and your wife is freed."
  
  "Good," Marcus Antonius smiled.
  
  "No." Neo Helios decided to squash this stupidity before it had the time to root itself in the mind of his ally. "It's not good at all. The Roman Lord of Thunder amended the damn thing after Julius Caesar tried to use his silver-tongue one time too many, and as such when I said 'someone suitable', this means 'a member of the Olympian Council or a former Adjudicator'."
  
  The second -and lesser - Augustus immediately scowled.
  
  "This is...inconvenient."
  
  Neo Helios snorted.
  
  "I think it's something more than that, Neo Romulus. As much as certain Olympians hate Perseus Jackson, none of them will try to support his defeat when a disaster for him means calamity for the current God of War." In practical terms, it was a case where Olympus wanted the Triumvirate dead far more than they wanted the severed head of the son of Poseidon. "If we involve someone like the God of Wine, he's going to set a series of trials in a lake of wine, and your opponent will take great pleasure drowning your Champions and yourself, and he likely will do it in a way where you will end up dead in a thoroughly ridiculous manner."
  
  "This is blatant favouritism from Olympus!"
  
  "It is. So what? The entire set of rules is made to make sure the Gods have fun, not the mortals. And did I mention that assuming you value your life, you also have to let Jackson name an Olympian as one of the two 'Referees' who will oversee the trials of the aforementioned challenge?"
  
  Marcus Antonius looked like a barbarian who had just eaten rotten fruit.
  
  "Fine," he almost spat. "I suppose I have just to choose a former Adjudicator or someone who fulfilled an equivalent role, instead of an Olympian."
  
  "That would be for the best," Neo Helios agreed while checking his nails were perfect, as usual, "except the times changed, and like plenty of things, the Gods progressively abandoned affairs where three Goddesses asked a mortal who was the most beautiful one."
  
  There were only so many times you could throw golden apples before you ended up with an Olympianomachy who destroyed your Pantheon, in the end.
  
  "There were plenty of times where mortals were selected by Gods or Goddesses, to be sure," the owner of the Hyper-Giant Yacht Germanicus continued, "but in the last couple of centuries, there have been no Adjudicators or equivalents. Logically, most of the people who qualify are long dead."
  
  And naturally, the Triumvirate status of outlaws plus Perseus Jackson's connections to his uncle meant the very idea of asking for the soul of a dead Adjudicator was ludicrous.
  
  Marcus Antonius grimaced, at last understanding how much the son of Poseidon had stacked the deck to ensure there wouldn't be any challenge before the Lupercalia.
  
  "The list is not long, I take it."
  
  "It is not a list," the golden-haired Roman Augustus corrected acidly, "since it has only a single name."
  
  "One name?" the bearded Augustus said aghast.
  
  "What did you expect? Most souls don't manage to escape the Fields of Punishment or the realm of the Rich One, and plenty of those who do are caught not long after." Neo Helios pinched his nose. "I advise you to abandon that idea and go for an exchange of prisoners. This entire challenge of an Adjudicator? It reeks, Neo Romulus. Yes, you can win big if you defeat your opponent, but the son of the Earthshaker will destroy you if he emerges victorious. Right now, he's forced to keep Isis as an 'honoured guest'. If he wins, he will be able to make her a widow and pretty much hand her out to Olympus where she will become a Goddess bound to follow the whims of the current King."
  
  Obviously, it would be an extremely unpleasant for the Triumvirate, no matter how much the Apotheosis had proven they were on the correct path.
  
  "Jackson won, Neo Romulus. Give him his victory, and move on."
  
  He knew before the former Magister Equitum opened his mouth that his arguments had missed the target.
  
  "I am not going to let this little bastard gloat! He won't blackmail me! I had already to suffer Octavian's, I won't tolerate Perseus Jackson humiliating me!"
  
  Ah, so that was what was injuring Marcus Antonius' pride above all.
  
  "Please give me the name of the former Adjudicator. The sooner I contact him, the faster the challenge can be organised."
  
  "As you wish," though the Second Augustus didn't yet know the worst part of the news, "the man you seek is the former Adjudicator of the Sun. His full name is Imperator Caesar Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus Augustus Pius Felix Sarmaticus Germanicus Maximus Britannicus. But he is better known as-"
  
  "Commodus," the other member of the Triumvirate was close to apoplexy. "The only possible candidate for a High Judge is this megalomaniacal cretin who only thinks of gladiator games?"
  
  Neo Helios grinned innocently.
  
  "I warned you beforehand that you weren't going to like it."
  
  8 January 2007, Primaris Conference Room, Forge of All Perils
  
  The man was good-looking.
  
  Yet the moment he saw him materialise on the enormous screen of the conference room, Richard could honestly say he hated him on first sight.
  
  Was it the fact the oiled, tanned abs were bigger than his? No. Was it the perfect white teeth? No. Was it the eyes? No.
  
  Richard Grant couldn't explain it, but something pushed him to kill the man, and to do it slowly.
  
  It was of course impossible, and he knew it. The man speaking was too far away to be fired upon, assuming the video was recorded as they speak, and they didn't even know if it was the case.
  
  "King of the Pirates Perseus Jackson," the voice was soft, but there was an undertone of arrogance that couldn't be hidden. "I, the splendid Neo Hercules, have received and acknowledged your message!"
  
  Suddenly, Richard Grant knew why he wanted that usurper dead.
  
  He dared?
  
  This stupid parody which tried to compensate with overinflated muscles dared?
  
  "However, I must decline your request of eternal friendship."
  
  There was a groan of disappointment. Plenty of Demigods and Demigoddesses feigned to not have heard it.
  
  "I was tempted, for your exploits almost equal mine when I ruled the most glorious Empire the world had ever seen and will ever see!" Octavian had been a megalomaniac; it was honestly impressive that just a few days after his transformation into a golden statue, they had found someone worse. "But alas, a challenge has been issued, and I don't think I have it in me to decline the opportunity of organising a grand spectacle the Gods themselves will be jealous of!"
  
  The longer this went on, the worse it got...
  
  "Therefore by this video, I, the magnificent and unique Imperator Caesar Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus Augustus Pius Felix Sarmaticus Germanicus Maximus Britannicus," for all his endurance, the megalomaniac had to catch his breath here, "that I have accepted to be your High Judge for the coming challenge issued by Consul Marcus Antonius. Per the Laws governing this noble institution, you have three days to acknowledge this message and reply with the identity of the two Referees you wish to nominate for the Games to come."
  
  The Games? It was supposed to be a challenge. Why did he have a very bad feeling about the entire thing?
  
  "Should you fail to answer, obviously, I will nominate the noble Referees myself."
  
  What was the worse option? Jackson choosing or this muscular megalomaniac? Sadly, the leader of the Suicide Squad was probably the safer bet for once!
  
  "As the challenger has willingly made important concessions, I have acquiesced to an early date for the challenge."
  
  "Millions of sesterces and expensive resources must have changed hands," Bianca di Angelo declared sarcastically.
  
  "But I am pleased to announce my men are ready for the challenge! This is thus with immense pleasure that I can tell you the Adjudicator Games of Commodus will take place in my Coliseum, in the very heart of the Colony Lucia Annia Commodiana, and will begin at dawn on the twentieth of January!"
  
  Twentieth of January? That was an incredibly short amount of time to prepare! And they didn't even know where-
  
  The image of the buffoon disappeared for a few seconds, replaced by a map, one which seemed to survey the Sea of Monsters from above. A red dot was switched on at the edge of the Zone Mortalis, west of the Solomon Islands. It was a tiny island, lost in the Solomon Sea, almost half-way to New Guinea. Without surprise, the legend indicated 'Commodus Island' along with a set of precise coordinates.
  
  Then the trimmed beard and the face of the man who wanted to usurp his father reappeared.
  
  "The seats to watch this formidable event which might last as long as three days will be on sale by tomorrow!" The parody of muscles said gleefully. "Please inform your allies and friends that while we will do our utmost to protect the public, risks of joyous dismemberment, rape, decapitation, and language unbefitting to royalty may occur regularly after the opening ceremony!"
  
  The Roman struck his chest with his fist in a martial salute.
  
  "We await the Suicide Squad for the twentieth at dawn! Don't be late, King of Pirates and fellow Adjudicator, or it will count as a forfeit of your team! All the details, rules, and accommodations are going to be transferred by divine mail the moment your 'Referee message' will be in my hands."
  
  Richard really wanted much to kill Commodus. At this point, if there was someone who entered and call himself Commodus, he was going to slaughter him, no matter the consequences!
  
  "Oh, and last but definitely not least." The teeth were so white he wondered while no one had ever felt the urge to break them and feed them to this usurper. "I have chosen the theme of the challenge! It will be..." drums rolled thunderously, "THE TRIALS OF NEO HERCULES!"
  
  "YOU BASTARD!" Richard screamed as the screen went dark, before realising the entire Suicide Squad plus some ninety Legionnaires plus a few dozen of Telekhines had seen him lose control.
  
  Silence reigned for a couple of seconds, before Jackson cleared his throat.
  
  "Language, Grant."
  
  "Don't tell me you don't want to kill him too."
  
  "Of course, I do," the heterochromatic-eyed Demigod scoffed. "I thought I had closed that avenue of challenge for the Triumvirate! Two of the three former Adjudicators had accepted my offer of eternal friendship and disappeared from view. If Commodus accepted my offer, the Triumvirate would have had to choose between the poison of prisoner exchange or letting an Olympian judge the challenge itself."
  
  "But he didn't," Annabeth Chase crossed her arms. "Why would he do something so reckless? He has to know that if the Olympians aren't happy with the outcome, he will be incinerated by the Master Bolt?"
  
  "Is it reckless if you have someone behind you offering protection against the Olympians?" The son of Poseidon slowly shook his head. "There are no coincidences so late in the game. There is only enemy action. Do you not find it curious that the former Adjudicator who rejected my offer also happened to be a candidate the Triumvirate rejected when they established their little usurping organisation?"
  
  Yes, with the size of these coincidences, you could create a new Zone Mortalis out of thin air...
  
  8 January 2007, 'Honoured Guest Quarter', Forge of All Perils
  
  As far as her conditions of detention were concerned, the Demigods had held true to their word.
  
  The conditions of her imprisonment were indeed pleasant, and while it was slightly maddening to be confined to a single location, she was really given the VIP treatment, with several Telekhines serving as her butlers.
  
  It also meant there was nothing to do but be patient, and Isis was honest enough to admit she was really not good at that. And her new immortality had not improved that trait.
  
  Therefore it was really a relief when the Son of Poseidon used his shark auxiliaries to deliver a letter humbly requesting a 'moment of her time'.
  
  Of course, this being Perseus Jackson, he had to list all her titles, even those he should have no rights to know. Yes, the address was perfectly respectful and all, but he had saluted her as 'Goddess of the Nile, Protector of Alexandria, Apex of Black Mamba Nest, Lady of Transformation done by Love, Shield of Love Marriages, Queen of Love through Water', and plenty of other names that she was sure she'd never revealed to anyone but her husband.
  
  The son of Poseidon was really as smug as an Olympian when the latter happened to be drunk on victory. It remained to be seen if it was his greatest strength or his Fatal Flaw.
  
  And yes, she approved the request-invitation. Immortal she may be, but she was in dire need of valuable information.
  
  Fifty minutes later, the Adjudicator of the Suicide Squad entered in her private apartments, the blonde daughter of Athena and Hera following on his heels.
  
  "Oh, your Immortal Worshipfulness," the Demigod began with a grin that was mockery incarnate. "How radiant you are! How-"
  
  "Stop this immediately, or we will see if there is a way I can transform you into an hippopotamus."
  
  "I would think you would have preferred crocodiles." The illegitimate son of the Earthshaker wasn't taken aback by her reaction. "An angry hippopotamus is very dangerous."
  
  Isis rolled her eyes, and decided to not reply.
  
  "By the Ancient Laws and the regulations governing the role of an Adjudicator, it is my pleasure and my duty to inform you that your husband has challenged my honour and my right to be your Adjudicator."
  
  So the Triumvirate had found a loophole. It should have resonated like good news. But Queen of Egypt or no, she was naturally distrustful of triumphal acclamations that seemed too good to be true. Especially when they were uttered by one Perseus Jackson.
  
  "And when will these...Adjudicator challenges take place?"
  
  "They will begin on the twentieth of January," before the Lupercalia? This was incredibly fast! "The High Judge has sworn the vows, and thus Olympus and the entire divine world are invited to watch the Labours of Neo Hercules!"
  
  And just like that, all the optimism Isis could have felt was incinerated within a heartbeat.
  
  "The High Judge is Commodus." The young Goddess hissed, her mouth instantly transforming to let her snake fangs appear. "Are you insane?"
  
  "Lady Isis, that's frankly a question you will have to ask your husband. It is him who chose the Adjudicator, not me."
  
  The Protector of Alexandria and Lady of the Nile wanted to believe Jackson was lying. But his grin was too satisfied for it to be a lie. And what would be the purpose of distorting the truth anyway? In a few days, she would know everything about the challenge from other sources. No, the Demigod was saying the truth.
  
  "And I suppose you had no part in limiting the options available to my husband?"
  
  "I did," the black-haired boy admitted shamelessly. "But Commodus was not my choice. I tried to bribe him so he removed himself from play, but the blackmail attempt failed, alas. For understandable reasons, I believe, I would have been far more pleased if an Olympian took the role of High Judge."
  
  "I will take you at your word. I am a bit rusted when it comes to the regulations of what you call 'Adjudicator challenges'." It had not been called like this in the old days, and unfortunately, Isis had been far, far away when the one which had occurred in her lifetime had been organised.
  
  "Then I will also add that I have chosen my Referees for the challenge, as per my rights and privileges."
  
  When she reunited with her husband, Isis was going to have a very serious conversation with him. Damn the male pride, an exchange of prisoners would have been preferable compared to the sheer chaos she felt was coming this way.
  
  "Who are they?" she asked, dreading the answer already.
  
  "The First Referee will be Lord Dionysus, God of the Wine, Madness, Leopards, and many other amusing Domains. The regulations imposed an Olympian, and he was too happy to accept my nomination." Yes, she was sure Dionysus did. By this point, Perseus Jackson was more or less his unofficial High Priest, given how much madness he left in his wake.
  
  "And the second?"
  
  Perseus Jackson's grin widened.
  
  "Commodus was very eager to tell me his 'games' would be following the theme of the Twelve Labours of Hercules. So I thought why not provide a Referee who met the legend, while keeping it in the family?"
  
  Isis didn't like hearing that at all.
  
  "I have nominated my half-brother Antaeus as the second Referee."
  
  This was just madness. Antaeus had been defeated by Hercules, yes, but he also happened to be a half-giant obsessed with skulls and making an arena of them by killing as many opponents as he could. If the legends were true - Isis had never met him before - he was a son of Poseidon as well as Gaea.
  
  And the currently black-haired Goddess didn't believe for a single second a bloodthirsty maniac like this one would be content to play 'Referee' for several hours, never mind one day or two.
  
  "You are playing a dangerous game, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "It is your husband who refused to be blackmailed. He has chosen to escalate, not me."
  
  Isis refused to be baited in that sort of debate, no matter how correct the arguments were. Jackson was very much like Julius Caesar in that way: you began the conversation certain that the sky was blue, and you ended it praising him for convincing you that the Gods had turned the clouds green while you weren't looking.
  
  It was best to not give him the opportunity to screw up with her mind.
  
  Instead, the Goddess of Marriages and Love looked deeper, searching for something that she had noticed right after the recent battle.
  
  "You have been Marked by Aphrodite. Or should I say Cursed?"
  
  By the way Hera and the Demigoddess' eyes widened in surprised, they clearly had not been informed of this 'detail'.
  
  "What? Please tell me she is wrong!"
  
  "Oh, she is completely, deadly right." Perseus Jackson shrugged with a detachment bordering on arrogance. "This is fine."
  
  "This is no laughing matter!"
  
  Isis huffed.
  
  "For once in my life, I have, with incredible regret, to agree with Hera. The Curses of Aphrodite are vicious and humiliating, and can permanently destroy body and mind even if you burn through them as fast as possible."
  
  The history of Pasiphaë and the Cretan Bull was just one example among many of Aphrodite having the ability to ruin your reputation and your life for as long as you lived.
  
  "You are running out of time, Perseus Jackson. For now, your status of Adjudicator protects you, but the moment it will be removed, you will have to endure the full power of the Curse. And looking at the Lust magic woven around your soul, I can tell you it is something particularly dangerous and unpleasant."
  
  Many Demigods would have fallen to their knees in despair, shouted awful things, or proved their ignorance in an unquestionable manner.
  
  Perseus Jackson yawned in an exaggerated fashion.
  
  "I thank you for the warning, Lady Goddess, but I already knew that. Your warning is touching, but you don't have to worry. Everything is proceeding as part of the plan."
  
  Isis wanted to shout back he was utterly insane. There were only two ways to cancel a divine-cast curse: either you somehow convinced the immortal to cancel it, or you became a deity yourself, breaking the curse by overwhelming it with divine power of your own. As Aphrodite was not exactly known for her generosity and the curse had been cast with the near-totality of her power concentrated in a single location, the former was improbable. As for the latter, it was even more so; for all his strength, Perseus Jackson was clearly far from Apotheosis, despite being a massively powerful Demigod.
  
  "Jackson," the blonde daughter of Athena was not hitting the nearby wall with her own head, but she was not far from that point. "What did we say about calculated risks?"
  
  "To take them, and worry about the mathematics later?"
  
  8 January 2007, near the Scylla Gate, Entrance and Exit of the Sea of Monsters
  
  "An oath was made that the world would be shaken, one way or another."
  
  It was an old promise.
  
  It was a murmur in the winds.
  
  It was a rumble in the water.
  
  It was a fire in the hearts of his men.
  
  "Captain? The men are ready and waiting for your commands."
  
  "I know, Lafitte."
  
  His bones hurt, but it had been a long time since he could say he felt alive.
  
  He wasn't going to say he reached the forecastle of his beloved Queen Anne's Revenge like a young man.
  
  But he did it on his two legs, and that was all that mattered.
  
  The fall could have killed him, but it didn't.
  
  What better proof that Fate had decided that he wouldn't die on that day?
  
  "We are brothers, the last true Heirs of the Golden Age of Piracy."
  
  There were no shouts, no insults. They all knew he was saying the truth.
  
  "I know you've heard the tales spread by the Suicide Squad and all former allies of Force S. They are the truth. The sorceress made sure we were guinea pigs and other horribly cute animals for centuries, all the while time continued to run its course."
  
  Edward Teach opened a rum bottle, and took a large gulp of it.
  
  "They have forgotten us. The Gods and Goddesses have taken everything from us, beginning with the legend of our exploits." He showed his teeth to his audience. "I propose we remind them why the sailors feared the sight of our Jolly Roger."
  
  Boarding sabres and many bottles of rum were raised in approval.
  
  "The moment is right. Olympus, the Triumvirate, the Suicide Squad, the other players...all are watching each other, baring their fangs, plotting and preparing for the final battle. They are blind to plenty of things. And this gives us opportunities."
  
  He had recognised the implications the moment his feet landed on this beach of black sands. And honestly, he had been surprised more pirates didn't speak of it at first. It may be that the astonishment and the sheer absurdity of what had happened had broken their minds.
  
  But he had not forgotten, oh no.
  
  "Before us, brothers, the Charybdis-Scylla Gate awaits. Except there has been a minor change, as I'm sure you are aware! One half of the monstrous duo is no more! And without it, the Gate to enter and exit the Sea of Monsters has enormously decreased in lethality."
  
  Grins spread like a gust of wind among his crew.
  
  They realised the truth at last.
  
  "Yes, brothers. Without Charybdis, the threat of Scylla is manageable at last. It won't last long. In fact, I would be very surprised if the Gods don't have a replacement for the sea-swallowing maw before the end of the moon! But for today, the Gate is vulnerable. The Straits' dangers are minimal."
  
  He drank more rum.
  
  "The Brothers of the Coast are no more. The tricorn of the King lies in other hands than mine. But all of that can be returned to us in time. There have been many times in history where the colours were lost. Kings and Gods alike have proclaimed dozens of times we were annihilated. Thousands, no, tens of thousands of the men, women, and children who lived thanks to our pillages and victories have been sent to the gallows. The songs of piracy went silent. But all of that can be changed, brothers. All of that will be changed. The Golden Age ended centuries ago. This just means we will have to resurrect it with our bare hands!"
  
  "BLACKBEARD! BLACKBEARD!"
  
  "A NEW WORLD AWAITS US! BROTHERS! WE ARE ONCE AGAIN FREE TO FORGE OUR FATE! WHO ARE WE?"
  
  "WE ARE THE BLACKBEARD PIRATES!"
  
  "WE HAVE SURVIVED THE MADNESS AND THE TERROR! WE HAVE CHARGED STRAIGHT INTO THE JAWS OF HELL! WHAT DO YOU SAY, BROTHERS?"
  
  "WE ARE WITH YOU? CAPTAIN!"
  
  "ADMIRAL BLACKBEARD!"
  
  "FOR THE GOLDEN AGE OF PIRACY! FOR THE BROTHERHOOD!"
  
  Blackbeard laughed with all the strength of his lungs.
  
  "FORWARDS! WE LEAVE THE SEA OF MONSTERS TODAY!"
  
  8 January 2007, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  Naively, she had once thought that if she gained a tiny measure of her full strength back, the infernal and insane Demigod would give her proposals the seriousness they deserved.
  
  Hera didn't entertain any of these delusions now.
  
  "I don't think you understand how bad the Curses of Love are, Jackson."
  
  "First objection: it is a Divine Curse of Lust-"
  
  "Lust, Love, what does it matter? It alls end up in broken hearts, destroyed cities, and tragedies in the end!"
  
  "That's where you are greatly mistaken, my seasonal lieutenant!"
  
  The former Queen of the Gods groaned in exasperation.
  
  This joke had been lamentable when it was made right after the last battle, and it was growing more and more exasperating as it spread through the Forge of All Perils.
  
  "Okay, the lustful Dove herself threw all caution to the wind and blasted you with one of your most powerful Lust Curses. Happy?" It was very much a rhetorical question, and she didn't give him the opportunity to find a cryptic reply. "You need to stop-"
  
  "And do what? Crawl in front of her and beg her mercy? Propose to polish the skyscraper-sized temple where she keeps all her shoes? Bargain in the faint hope the punishment would be merely to pay for one of her shopping sessions in the luxury shops of Milan or Rome?"
  
  The currently brown-haired young woman grimaced.
  
  Yeah, Aphrodite would love that, wouldn't she?
  
  "Besides, even if I was willing to go with this humiliation, I would have to summon the entirety of the Goddess at once, much like what was accomplished in the entrails of the volcano recently. And I have no longer the resources or the story weight to do that."
  
  That was absolutely not reassuring.
  
  "Three and Thirteen, Jackson, it is-"
  
  "The Three are for the women or any person I have strong emotions for. Once the Lust Curse activates, they will experience near-unbearable lust for me, and I will have the power to dominate them physically and mentally. The Thirteen, however, will be beings in a certain radius who have at one point experienced lustful feelings for me, but that I haven't reciprocated. And I will suddenly 'enjoy' near-unbearable lust for them, so much that I, a strong-willed madman, would be perfectly willing to let them enslave me. Moreover, the Curse, if any of the recipients struggle against it, happens to be infectious. It can rapidly spread to an entire city and more."
  
  Hera gaped for several seconds. She had not expected such a devastating sum-up of the Lust Curse!
  
  "How did you-"
  
  "This is not the first time the Goddess uses that specific Curse, I will remind you."
  
  "No, but in most cases, the Council cleaned up behind her."
  
  And, she didn't add, it had never been a pleasant duty.
  
  "I'm just worried, okay? Last time this Lust Curse was active, it was horrible."
  
  "Yes, it was. Worried you will be among the Three?"
  
  Hera glared.
  
  "For all your attempts to convince us you are insane and out of control, I don't think you are the kind of villain that delights in raping your girlfriend and the Demigoddesses of this Squad who have some measure of affection for you, Jackson."
  
  "You're right. I don't." The lone red eye shone malevolently. "That's why nothing of the sort is going to happen."
  
  "The Lust Curse of Three and Thirteen may not leave you the choice." She insisted. "And the Goddess you 'adjudicate' for may be sharp-tongued, but she is not completely wrong. You are running out of time. Whether we win or lose the challenge, you will have to abdicate the title and duties by the end of it. And I seriously doubt it will last more than one week."
  
  "The point of how little time remains is accurate," Perseus nodded. "But I can assure you that the Curse won't control my actions, and the collateral damage should be limited."
  
  "You have a strong will," she conceded, "perhaps one of the strongest I've ever encountered. But no mental fortitude can hold for long against a divine Curse. Everyone breaks at some point."
  
  "And I will repeat you what I told Isis, Hera. I have a plan. A plan and plenty of contingencies. Do you really think I began this Quest without thinking of the eventuality I wouldn't be cursed by an Olympian or a being of equivalent power? This would have been extremely narrow-sighted of me, given how many times heroes of the Antiquity have been on the receiving end of them."
  
  It was always annoying when he brought out something there was no reasonable way to argue against.
  
  "But enough about Curses. What are your thoughts about the new High Judge of the challenge, His Imperial Majesty Commodus?"
  
  "I wish I could assassinate him," Hera told him honestly. "Your little attempt to be his friend spectacularly backfired, Jackson."
  
  "I just wanted to blackmail him, and if not to bribe him," the son of Poseidon sniffed out disdainfully. "Friendship was likely a doomed effort from the start. I'm not sure Commodus ever had a true friend in his life."
  
  "He had one, I think." The former Queen of the Gods cleared her throat. "The current God of the Sun."
  
  Perseus blinked before showing an unconvinced expression on his face.
  
  "They were very close," she said before shifting to her Summer-touched appearance and turning her hair from brown to blonde. "I mean, like-"
  
  "I am aware Commodus and Apollo were once lovers, don't worry. The Sun God never tried to hide it for many years. Of course, it was before the latter drowned the former with his bare hands. I'm sure that must have inflicted significant damage to their relationship."
  
  "Is it because of that factor you didn't choose my husband's bastard to be your First Referee?"
  
  To her consternation, Perseus cackled evilly.
  
  "It would have made an epic mess, wouldn't it? I was really, really tempted to go with it."
  
  "But you didn't."
  
  "Well, I think that if I pursued that course, the star-crossed lovers would be in a very murderous mood, and they likely would unleash all that honest and pure hatred on the competitors fighting in the arena. I'm sure I would survive it, but I can't say the same thing about all the other people who will fight by my side."
  
  "And the God of Wine is a better choice?"
  
  "Of course! To begin with, we are sure to not die thirsty!"
  
  Hera sobbed in consternation. Why did she think the leader of the Suicide Squad was going to listen to sane arguments, really?
  
  9 January 2007, Healing Wing, Forge of All Perils
  
  "Jackson, I'm beginning to think I'm losing my mind."
  
  "Hmm...interesting. What convinced you of that?"
  
  Michael adjusted his position on the large red couch before answering.
  
  "This morning, I dreamed I saw Miranda's body cover in black scales while she was in the swimming pool."
  
  "I'm sorry, my bard lieutenant, but it was no dream. Our dear daughter of Sands has accepted the proposal of the third Queen of Hell to become her Champion. As a consequence, she's progressively imbued with the essence of a Night Hydra. I don't think she will be able to fully transform before the end of the Quest, though. And she doesn't have the poison breath. She just will be the Hydra of Black Sands! Nothing to worry about!"
  
  The son of Apollo took a deep breath of relief...before other images flashed into his mind.
  
  "I saw Leo Valdez shrouded in flames, roaring and throwing anvils across an entire hall." The blonde musician swallowed heavily. "He was so muscled he looked like a beardless dwarf, and without warning, he self-combusted! He was a torch! What was wrong with me?"
  
  "Nothing is wrong with you," the madman said reassuringly, taking notes in his notebook. "I'm afraid however I'm going to have to reprimand the penguins. Their explosive talents don't give them the right to requisition the tools of Leo for their own experiments."
  
  "But he was built like a son of Hercules!" Michael protested. "Minus the height, of course."
  
  "Yes, it seems that whatever blessings the Heart of the Forge gives out, a growth spurt towards the skies is not one of them. It did marvels for his pyrokinesist abilities, so as his commander, I'm not complaining. Anything else?"
  
  "I saw Hera and Jade do some cross-country skiing on the upper levels!"
  
  "They have to push their powers beyond their limits, and what better use for Winter and Snow powers than some friendly ski competition? Honestly, once we return to New Byzantium, I am very tempted to sponsor an all-year winter sports resort! I'm surprised no one thought of it besides me!"
  
  "Err...Jackson..." Michael was almost sure he was hallucinating right now. It had to be insanity. The reality couldn't be that crazy. "I'm pretty sure we won't be able to return to New Byzantium. With the sort of trouble you unleashed, the majority of the Council will want you dead."
  
  "That's where you're wrong, my bard lieutenant. Many things have changed in the last ten days. With the Lord of Fire and Forges freed, our star is on the ascendant once more! Many important immortals are willing to sweep our eccentricities under the carpet now. Of course, the accumulating of diplomatic immunities is fiercely fought against, but I'm sure it will end in our favour. Only a fool would ask for less than what he really desires, no?"
  
  "This is a nightmare," he moaned. "I want to wake up!"
  
  "Don't worry," Jackson was writing further in his notebook. "The challenge of the Triumvirate is the endgame of this Great Quest. We just have to keep a layer of loyalty and have fun in front of the Olympians, and all will be well! Okay, not for the Triumvirate, and in all likely not for Commodus, but who cares about them?"
  
  The smile was terrifying.
  
  "I won't deny you will need to see a few psychologists once we're back at New Byzantium, though."
  
  "What?" Michael exclaimed. "You assured me everything I saw wasn't a hallucination of mine!"
  
  "It wasn't," Perseus drawled. "But I just want you to acknowledge, my bard lieutenant, that you've been staying on this couch for a good hour."
  
  "And?"
  
  "And unless it is a curious technique of seduction, I must point out you are stark naked on this couch of the Healing Wing." To his disbelieving eyes, the son of Apollo realised it was no joke. He was as naked as the day he was born!
  
  "Oh, Gods, if someone saw me on my way here-"
  
  "Don't worry, there were no Huntresses as witnesses. It certainly saved you from being used as a pincushion for their arrows."
  
  "It isn't reassuring at all, Jackson!"
  
  "Then I'm willing to tell you that apart from the occasional crises of exhibitionism, Elvis Knight and yourself are getting better. You're less and less trying to speak the language of fish monsters, and I'm pretty sure that you did recover ninety percent of your brain's capacity. All in all, I'm sure that before the end of next week, you will be as sane as me! What do you say?"
  
  "I want new clothes!" He shouted.
  
  "Ah, no problem." Perseus shut his notebook and grinned. "Light orange or dark orange?"
  
  Michael groaned pitifully. He was sure he was mad now, and unfortunately, it was getting worse...
  
  9 January 2007, Drone Command Centre, Forge of All Perils
  
  Bianca cursed profusely during the two minutes she watched the video of the aerial view obtained by his long-range drone.
  
  And as much as he wanted to chide her for the insults, Perseus didn't have in it to chide the former Dread Empress today. The reaction may be a bit vulgar, but there was every reason to be surprised.
  
  Who would have expected for Commodus to build a Coliseum in the middle of nowhere?
  
  "How in the name of my father did he build something like that without someone noticing it?"
  
  "I have a better question." The former Tyrant mused. "How in Hell did he pay for it? Unless my memory has suddenly become unreliable, this Coliseum is far bigger than the one built in Rome ever was, and the latter is not exactly a small structure."
  
  Bianca glared at the video playing again the details of the 'Colony Lucia Annia Commodiana' before speaking again.
  
  "The Sire of the Drakons, you think?"
  
  "Too obvious," he shook his head. "Oh, I don't doubt Nocturna's master whispered some ideas in the ears of Commodus. But giving all these resources away when the Sire didn't have any certainty this Coliseum would be used for the challenge? No, this doesn't fit the Sire's modus operandi."
  
  "Wonderful," they both knew it was anything but. "The size of this Coliseum is a headache by itself. There is no practical limit to what can wait for us on the sands of this arena."
  
  "True. But having contacted some of my sources, I think we can bet on exotic gladiatorial games. There will be monsters too. There will be dangerous animals broken to wage war against anyone who stands in their way. And assuming whoever supports him financially still has some funds for more extravagance...the 'show' might include mercenaries."
  
  "Grant was right," the black-haired sorceress sneered. "The man is a megalomaniac. What is this thing about a Colony Lucia Annia something?"
  
  "This is how he wanted to rename Rome in the old days." The former Tyrant revealed. "And I think Commodus is a narcissist above all, not a megalomaniac."
  
  "From our perspective, does it make a difference?"
  
  "No, he doesn't," he acknowledged. "Well, it is going to be a problem."
  
  "Are you sure you don't have British family in this world? You seem to have a gift for understatements."
  
  "One tries, your Dreadful Majesty," his smile didn't stay for too long, he was not in the mood for puns and jokes today. "Did you manage to read the rules?"
  
  "Did I peruse this scandalous succession of articles dribbling of honeyed self-satisfaction? Yes, I did. And it can be summed up as 'Imperator Commodus will decide the rules of each Labour when he thinks it is the opportune time'. You disagree?"
  
  "No." Perseus admitted. "And I feel very happy knowing the Referees will be on our side. They may not be able to stop every stupidity, but they will be able to stop the things which will go against all decency and Olympian-enforced laws."
  
  "That still leaves a lot of loopholes for the very bad stuff."
  
  "I know," and there was more exasperation in Perseus' voice than he wanted to. There were many reasons why he had wanted to avoid participating in a series of challenges where the High Judge was an enemy. "The only consolation I can find in this affair is that the Triumvirate will be in an even worse position than us."
  
  "They are the reason why we couldn't just do a prisoner exchange and go back to New Byzantium, so screw them," yes, Bianca was now aware her father had agreed to the bargain proposed by Olympus. There would be no escape for her to Amazon HQ. "Right. The rules. What do you think?"
  
  "At first glance, it sounds relatively reasonable." The black-haired Demigod answered. "There will be twelve Labours, for we know the narcissist-in-charge desires to surpass the God of Strength in every way. There will be two teams, ours versus the one of the Triumvirate. I, as Adjudicator, will be the Captain; Mark Antony will be the leader of the enemy team, since he is the Challenger. Should one Captain descend into the arena for one Labour, the other is forced to imitate him, otherwise it's a forfeit. And if one Captain dies, it is game over, the other team wins, whatever other rules Commodus will add as afterthoughts."
  
  "Yes. To be honest, I'm more worried about the part where the spectators can invade the arena under specific circumstances."
  
  "You're completely right. In fact, it may be worse than you think."
  
  "How so?" the girl who had been Triumphant asked with curiosity.
  
  "Look at the stadium. There are lodges for the VIPs, and plenty other seats for the immortals in the upper levels. But there's no way someone like Commodus can find at least eighty thousand spectators in a few days. Logically, that means there's going to be a lot of hooligans in the stands of the Coliseum. And in these post-Treaty days, hooligans mean Centaurs. And I'm not speaking of the ones who follow the orders of Chiron at New Byzantium."
  
  Bianca predictably groaned.
  
  "I will kill this megalomaniac at the end of the challenge."
  
  "You will have to beat Richard."
  
  The Lightning Thief sniffed arrogantly.
  
  "Have it your own way." It might be amusing to bet on whether Commodus was going to be to cut in a thousand pieces or crucified. "Another point that I don't like is the teams themselves. We are authorised teams of one hundred each. But once you dig, it stinks."
  
  "I can't say I disagree. One hundred beings per team is a big number, but given how Commodus is fan of blood sports, probably reasonable. But you as Captain can only choose the first fifty members? What kind of joke it is?"
  
  "A very dark one," Perseus grimly retorted. "Commodus can speak of luck and drawing lots all he want, I'm ready to bet all I own the fifty 'reinforcements' of each side have already been chosen."
  
  Based on previous conversations with all the members of the Suicide Squad, he had heavy suspicions what sort of 'allies' could be included among these numbers.
  
  "How does the megalomaniac think he is going to survive this? He's making an enemy of Olympus, my father, yours, and the Triumvirate!"
  
  "If we were on Calernia, I would joke he's trying to replicate the victories of Dread Emperor Irritant, since when you have the entire world against you, your enemies will have no choice to form a line. But we're not, and Commodus is no Irritant." Perseus gave a last look at the video before nodding. "I will study the documentation once again, but I don't think we will have an answer before these stupid 'Commodus Games' begin. There is a more pressing matter."
  
  "And it is?"
  
  "We can't do anything about the fifty this treacherous Emperor has prepared for us, of course, but we certainly can add a few assets to our ranks. And you are a daughter of the Lord of the Underworld."
  
  "You want me to do-" Perseus gave her an innocent smile. "He will never agree to release fifty hard-bitten killers into the world of the living, even if this lasts a week!"
  
  The son of Poseidon rolled his eyes.
  
  "Don't be so dramatic, your Dreadful Majesty. It can't be fifty, I am the Captain, and most of the Suicide Squad will certainly participate in one Labour or another."
  
  "Still-"
  
  "Ideally, I would settle for three. But the basic minimum is one."
  
  "One? What can one man do that we won't?"
  
  "I thought it was evident, my sorceress lieutenant. He is going to kill a lot of Romans."
  
  10 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  The meeting was not considered a 'proper' Council.
  
  And it was a good thing, because as his sister left in a flash of silver fury, they surely wouldn't have reached a quorum for it.
  
  Apollo cleared his throat.
  
  "I'm not saying she is completely right, but my little sister has a good point: Commodus is guilty of mistreating countless animals."
  
  "Then she should have killed him when she had the chance to do so," Jupiter rumbled. "Intervening in an Adjudicator Challenge would be a violation of so many laws that only a lawyer would check for the precise count. Killing the son of Marcus Aurelius again," Apollo grimaced inwardly, "would have been perfectly fine a month ago. It is not an adequate response anymore, not as long as this traitor is the High Judge."
  
  "And speaking of things which are troubling," Hermes coughed. "The Suicide Squad-"
  
  "Victory excuses many things, and they have succeeded in two of their goals." The Roman Lord of Thunder grumbled.
  
  Apollo wondered if this semi-reasonable behaviour was due to the shock of Perseus Jackson accomplishing one more thing that should have been impossible for Demigods, or it was simply that all the aspects of Zeus-Jupiter were still busy fornicating and sleeping with plenty of Goddesses, nymphs, and mortals. The God of the Sun knew for sure he personally was very affected by it; it had been a long time since he had seven girlfriends and five male lovers at once.
  
  But asking the question here wouldn't be well-received, and it wasn't like the answers would be representative. Artemis had just left. Athena, Dionysus, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, and Demeter had not bothered to attend. As evidently Ares and Hera were not going to make an appearance, that just left Jupiter, Neptune, and Hermes plus him to debate.
  
  "Okay." The God of Speed replied hastily. "But I wouldn't be the God of Merchants if I wasn't aware that the tickets for this 'Adjudicator Challenge' aren't on sale."
  
  "I have no doubt many of this Council have already decided to attend, in one form or another," Neptune chuckled.
  
  "Err...yes." Hermes coughed again. "It was more of...never mind. It was an introduction for the big question. What if the Suicide Squad loses?"
  
  "Depending on their losses, they will have the time to continue their Quest." Jupiter didn't hesitate. "The situation obviously wouldn't be good for them, with Isis on the enemy side, but she is hardly the equal of a Titan."
  
  "Victory in an Adjudicator Challenge doesn't translate into a successful ritual of usurpation," Neptune agreed. "The loser of Actium is at a serious disadvantage on that front. The pressure is already there for him to settle everything during the Lupercalia. A botched ritual at the end of January would likely blow up in his face and cause tremendous damage to his claim."
  
  "But it doesn't mean others can't see a way to exploit it for the uses of their personal ambitions." Jupiter icily remarked. "As many Demigods have remarked justly, this narcissist would-be usurper calling himself Commodus is neither a servant of the enemy Triumvirate nor of ours. He may be willing to distort the ancient traditions for his own ends."
  
  Apollo avoided thinking about him as much as he could. There were things he didn't want to remember, and most of his time with Commodus entered this category.
  
  "I will watch for now." Jupiter's eyes were sparkling with lightning. "And if he steps one toe outside of what is authorised, I will destroy him so thoroughly that whatever form of immortality he uses to keep himself in the mortal world will be extinguished forever. And then I will throw him myself into the Pit. Any other points, Neptune?"
  
  "Aside for the need to have a dangerous replacement at the entrance of the Sea of Monsters? We need to speak of what we do about the base of the Triumvirate."
  
  "They no doubt have done their utmost to evacuate all the valuable artefacts, military forces, and other resources from Guadalcanal. But the ritual grounds are still there, and if they aren't dealt with, these Roman rebels could return here in due time." Jupiter passed a hand in his black beard. "I think they are in dire need to be reminded that their imprisonment of my son is a terrible decision for them. Yes, I think they need a powerful sign to spread the word that I am very displeased by their actions. Mars is not a dutiful son, but only I have the right to punish him! Brother!"
  
  "Yes!"
  
  "Prepare yourself. With the Great Quest not over, a tsunami would have too many downsides."
  
  The admiral-clothed Lord of the Seas nodded.
  
  "We will have to cover a lot of things through the Mist, but it can be done immediately."
  
  "Then," the voice rose as it became a hurricane, "we can begin."
  
  10 January 2007, Solar Ark Spear of the Gods, some distance away from Guadalcanal
  
  Medea knew something was wrong when her sensing ability screamed something was coming.
  
  Then there was the song.
  
  Many would have not described it that way, but she didn't care for their opinions.
  
  It was a familiar tune.
  
  One which warned her there were powerful force-fields slamming into existence.
  
  All of the agitation came from the island that the squadron before her had departed yesterday.
  
  All of it came from Guadalcanal.
  
  "Centurion," the black-haired sorceress ordered. "Go tell your master that it is vital the magical shields of the Spear of the Gods and the entire fleet are raised now."
  
  "Yes, Lady Sorceress! May I ask why?"
  
  There was a powerful blast of wind, and in three seconds, the sky turned from lipid blue to dark.
  
  It was obscurity in the middle of the day.
  
  And it could only mean one thing.
  
  "Does it answer your question, Centurion? Run!"
  
  The mortal ran. For all his feeble wits and his peasant ancestry, the man could understand the word celerity.
  
  Medea could have laughed at his panic, if the circumstances were not so dangerous.
  
  The sea had high waves forming. It was unimportant for the Spear of the Gods and the two other flying ships escorting it, but for the ships stuck on the sea below, it was very much a point of concern.
  
  She never stopped watching the sky for long, however.
  
  It was the source of the danger.
  
  It was a boiling cauldron of storms, and the Princess of Colchis could feel its fury.
  
  The sea emitted a loud complaint, the wrath of the elements made manifest.
  
  And lightning came as an answer.
  
  Not just one or two bolts, no.
  
  There had to be dozens of lightning strikes, and the clouds generating them were all converging on the island that was just beyond the horizon.
  
  "Come on," she murmured, "get us away from here. There are force-fields active, but I don't think they're for us. The shockwave is going to be formidable..."
  
  At last, too slowly to her taste, the magical shields were powered and the fleet changed course, increasing its speed to push westwards, away from the darker clouds which had plunged everything into obscurity.
  
  Power imbued the sky, and Medea licked her lips.
  
  She was no stranger to demonstrations of strength, but this was way above everything she had imagined.
  
  It was more than a Domain; it was more than a single artefact. It was raw, overwhelming power.
  
  There was-
  
  She cast the most powerful shield she knew to increase the protections of the Solar Ark.
  
  And then for the first time in decades, Medea prayed.
  
  The apocalypse came in the next five seconds.
  
  It was as if ten thousand lightning bolts struck at once, so many the separation between the strikes would be impossible for mortals to distinguish if they didn't have her abilities.
  
  It was nothing but a warm-up.
  
  "Close your eyes!" She shouted as the power tripled and the sensation of danger increased.
  
  Seconds later, light engulfed everything.
  
  In the next days, the Triumvirate specialists would tell her that there had been enough energy in the explosion to surpass the Tsar Bomba by an order of magnitude. Without the force-fields erected around Guadalcanal, it was likely the Sea of Monsters would have been changed forever, and it was better not to say what the islands of the Pacific would have looked like.
  
  For all these precautions, the attack was just too powerful.
  
  The shockwave arrived like the hammer of the Gods. The shields were there, mercifully.
  
  But not all held true. Many had been prepared by amateurs, or were simply powered by third-rate magical practitioners.
  
  It was an outbreak of violence which shook the sea and the sky, along with everything in the vicinity.
  
  After long minutes, it began to calm down.
  
  The Triumvirate had lost three ships, and the casualties were in the hundreds.
  
  Medea had only eyes for the enormous columns of smoke on the horizon.
  
  Trembling, she cast a long-view incantation.
  
  Guadalcanal was mostly gone.
  
  Oh, there was still technically enough land to call it an island, but the majority of the island was now under the waves. And what wasn't sent to the bottom of the Sea was burning, ruined beyond any possibility of rebuilding.
  
  The golden defence obelisks Circe had been paid to enchant had broken in plenty of parts, when they had not outright melted. The massive fortress was swallowed by the voracious waves, what had not been carved apart and vaporised at least. Cannons and bunkers were pushed towards the abysses. The surplus of ammunition stockpiles which had not been evacuate was burning and detonating, tiny candles in the periphery of the inferno.
  
  The Altar for War had become an Altar of Ruin.
  
  Medea shivered.
  
  But she didn't shiver in fear.
  
  That was true power. The power of the Gods.
  
  It was the power that she had lusted for since her teenage years, and it had been denied to her.
  
  Yes, she was one of the three Immortal Sorceresses, but unlike her sisters, she was no true deity. For all her talents, for all the infamy attached to her name, Apotheosis had been a far-distant dream. Olympus and all the other factions had made sure the status quo was preserved, no matter how much blood they would have to shed in the process.
  
  But now, everything had changed.
  
  "I acknowledge the lesson," the Princess of Colchis whispered. "But I sincerely doubt this was the one you had in mind when you decided to annihilate this island."
  
  "Lady Sorceress?"
  
  "Alea Jacta Est, Centurion," the Immortal Sorceress answered. "There's no return possible for any of us now."
  
  10 January 2007, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Once upon a time - which might have been one year ago - one of Jason's Grace biggest sources of trouble had been to decide how he would convince fellow Legionnaires that he was ready for greater duties while at the same time proving the accusations of nepotism whispered behind his back were untrue.
  
  These days, he thought rarely of it.
  
  Life was funny - and far weirder - than what his younger self had imagined.
  
  "I'm told they have caught all the sons of Dionysus and imprisoned them in their own Barrack," Frank told him, not bothering hiding his amusement.
  
  "Come on, they had attenuating circumstances," Jason pleaded back, not believing his own words.
  
  "Three of them attempted to conquer Manhattan using the 'power of wine and debauchery', all the while kissing and doing other indecent things with the daughters of Aphrodite." The son of Mars shook his head, trying his best not to laugh. "And I won't mention what the others did-"
  
  "A wise choice, my friend, a wise choice..."
  
  "Hush, you! But we can all agree that the children of Aphrodite and Venus did worse!"
  
  "Well, they were the core of this disturbing wave of madness which struck New Constantinople and the rest of the city's boundaries." And in the process, Jason had kissed a girl for the first time, when a daughter of the Greek Love had tied her tongue with his. The son of Jupiter didn't know if he had to consider himself lucky or unlucky that several Legionnaires had knocked out the Demigoddess before it could progress further. "For good or worse, the first seventy-plus hours were the worst. Now I'm just sure that it's several Demigods and Demigoddesses wishing to grab the power and destroy all their inhibitions in the process."
  
  "That's certainly the case, yes," Frank approved. "The question is what will happen to the Suicide Squad when they will return."
  
  "If they will return," the blonde Legionnaire corrected. "And I will tell you what will happen: Perseus Jackson will be blamed for this epically disturbing crisis. Which is fair, you know, because it is his fault."
  
  "Come on, Jason," his friend snorted. "It's been several months they've departed, and according to all the connections we have, the 'attempted orgy-conquest of Manhattan' was one of the consequences of this madman somehow saving the Lord of Smiths and Fire. Two points have become evident: the Expeditionary Force failed, and the Suicide Squad is winning the critical battles of their Quest one by one. They have the Golden Fleece, if the sea nymphs' gossip is true."
  
  "If," Jason breathed out, "no, you're certainly right. I just hope that whatever the final outcome, there won't be another crisis like this for the next God. Breaking the chains of the Smith God by tying him in fire with his wife is one thing, and we saw all too clearly how bad it could be."
  
  "I don't think it was so bad." His fellow Legionnaire smirked. "You're just jealous so many girls of Venus decided they liked big muscled boys who worked in the forges of the Legion."
  
  Jason glared at him. The worst part of the affirmation was that as much as he wanted to deny it, the son of Mars was not completely wrong. For a couple of days, he had felt like that.
  
  Of course, right now it was getting better. Many relationships had lasted only as long as the time for the Lust wave to be extinguished. Once it did, the majority of the new 'sex friends unions' had broken up. There were still some Demigods and Legacies who had decided they'd found a decent partner during the crisis, male or female, but they were in the minority. Several information-brokers had gathered enough blackmail for several years, but the incident's consequences were dying down.
  
  "My non-existent jealousy aside," he wasn't going to admit the truth in public, not when the last days had proved how scandalous gossip could travel at lightning's speed, "I am genuinely worried by what will happen if the God of War is freed in a similar manner. If we have a new 'Lust crisis', so be it. But if it's a 'murder aura' which spreads, it's going to be incredibly bad."
  
  Frank Zhang immediately lost his smile. Yes, as a son of said War God, he could very well understand how awful it would be.
  
  The parties-conquests of Bacchus-Dionysus' children were drunken brawls that were more comedies than proper battles. And the biggest victims were the perpetrators themselves, because after emptying a barrel of wine alone, they had the headache of a lifetime. Their bodies hurt like hell, especially those you generally didn't mention in public. Mortal bodies, inhibitions or not, had limits, and plenty of the children of Wine were not skilled in gymnastics to begin with.
  
  If Mars released an aura of bloodlust and madness of the same potency, there would be nothing funny about the massacre.
  
  "You're right; we must pray it won't happen." His friend grimaced. "It isn't like we can do anything save praying. The rumours about the Suicide Squad are getting more and more ridiculous; I'm pretty sure some of them are blatantly false, like the one with Dakota 'honouring' all the nine Huntresses during the same orgy. And if we don't know what rumours are true, it's not like we can intervene and communicate with this band of insane Demigods and Demigoddesses. All messages to the Sea of Monsters are jammed by something."
  
  "Yeah, and the Gods are very tight-lipped in public."
  
  "Chiron knows something."
  
  "Chiron knows a lot of things." Alas the old centaur was keeping a lot of information for himself. "Why is there a crowd forming ahead?"
  
  "I don't know, but since we're supposed to patrol, well-"
  
  "You just want to satisfy your curiosity!"
  
  "Guilty as charged. Do we go?"
  
  "Lead the way, Frank."
  
  It took some threats and pushing aside several Legacies who should have known better, but Jason managed to reach the front and the centre of the squad.
  
  Before today, there had been an enormous statue of a past Roman General.
  
  Now it was no longer there.
  
  Instead, there were twelve golden statues.
  
  Twelve very realistic statues of gold.
  
  Twelve statues so life-like that Jason could name all of them, since they were part of the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legio!
  
  It didn't take long for the hundreds of spectators to explode in laughter.
  
  The announcement carved into the white marble supporting them might have something to do with it.
  
  TO THE GREATEST BACKSTABBERS AND IMBECILES OF NEW CONSTANTINOPLE
  
  ARTWORK CREATED BY LOU ELLEN BLACKSTONE, ON THE ORDERS OF PERSEUS JACKSON, SPONSORED BY THE GREAT GENEROSITY OF LORD DIONYSUS
  
  "I told you the son of Poseidon was a bad influence on our sister," a witch in the crowd shouted.
  
  "Don't you mean a very good influence?"
  
  More and more people chuckled, giggled, or manifested their hilarity in some way.
  
  "Midas' Curse," Frank muttered. "It must be some sort of Midas' Curse, no one had that much gold to spend on a wasteful project like that!"
  
  "I suppose that's true. But how do you free them?"
  
  "Do you want to free them?"
  
  "No! Yes! I mean...that's Octavian!"
  
  "That's a no, then."
  
  That's when one of the sons of Bacchus - after the latest days, all Legionnaires knew exactly who they were - raised an enormous golden cup over his head.
  
  "I PROPOSE A TOAST!" The drunk-looking brown-haired ruffian shouted. "FOR FIRST CENTURION OCTAVIAN MCARTHUR SWORE TO US HE WAS GOING TO ENTER THE HISTORY BOOKS OF OUR CITY, AND HE CERTAINLY DID! TO THE GREATEST IMBECILE OF NEW CONSTANTINOPLE!"
  
  Jason could only facepalmed as plenty of cups were passed, many bottles began to be opened, and toasts were raised with unrestrained laughter.
  
  "TO THE GREATEST IMBECILE OF NEW CONSTANTINOPLE!" The crowd chorused.
  
  "Frank, I have a feeling this madness is contagious!"
  
  "Do like me," his friend was already munching some grape, the traitor, "blame Perseus Jackson. It's his fault, no?"
  
  11 January 2007, the Docks, Forge of All Perils
  
  "And the maintenance of the Ave Caesar was shoddily done," the Telekhine shipbuilder affirmed. "If they were still alive, I would recommend the Legionnaires of the Twelfth to be shot!"
  
  Months ago, it would have disturbed Ethan to speak with a marine demon taking the form of a giant shark. These days, it was barely worth commenting anymore.
  
  "At least you will have time to do the repairs," the son of Nemesis replied. "Jackson has been very clear we will take only the Inevitable Doom to 'Narcissist Island'."
  
  After reviewing the videos a few times, no member of the Suicide Squad really bothered using the names given by the arrogant Emperor.
  
  "The modifications the Boss wanted for his flagship are over, and we will return it to the lake in a few hours." The expert shipbuilder adopted a tone that for a giant shark was probably intended to be reassuring. "Though we have not yet been given a schedule for the opening of the gates."
  
  "That's because unfortunately we haven't a precise one for now," Ethan shook his head. "We have a full strategic meeting in a few hours where that issue will be debated. Most of our members are pushing for tomorrow or the day after that. The island we have to sail to is estimated to be three to four days away, depending on the storms and the vigour of enemy attacks attempting to intercept us."
  
  It would require using the full power of the Inevitable Doom's engines, but hopefully they still would have a large margin to arrive before the twentieth.
  
  The Telekhine saluted, and returned to his shipbuilding hobbies.
  
  Ethan watched the large lake for several seconds, before turning away and soon after being intercepted by Anne Bonny. The daughter of Demeter had chosen a blue and gold attire of pirate princess to replace her usual one, he noted.
  
  "Good news?"
  
  "The Inevitable Doom is ready, plenty of the other ships are not." The black-haired Demigod grunted. "I suppose it could be worse. The boys and girls who won't leave for the challenge will likely get oversight duties for the rest of the fleet."
  
  "And once the new Labours are done, everyone will join up with the Inevitable Doom and leave the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "That's the plan, I think."
  
  "Good," Anne said bluntly. "I am sick of this Zone Mortalis, I want to see how much the world has changed outside."
  
  "You best prepare for a shock," the Gods were still there, but this was pretty much the only constant across the centuries. Nations had disappeared, and humanity had expanded and developed quantity of new things. Oh yes, the world had not waited for those who were trapped in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  "I will. Did Jackson mention anything about the selection of the forty-nine people he intends to bring along in what promises to be a spectacular butchery?"
  
  "No, I suppose the soon-to-come strategic meeting is going to be about that. He's been in contact with his Lord Uncle, apparently." And wasn't it terrifying to know that a Demigod had a direct line to the Lord of the Underworld? "You're not confident we can win with only a minimum of violence, then?"
  
  "This 'Suicide Squad' thrives on violence and spectacular damage, Ethan Nakamura," the daughter of Demeter pointed out acidly. "And even if Jackson was willing to restrain himself, I'm pretty sure Commodus won't. The man is a mad dog."
  
  "You've met him before?"
  
  "Never had the displeasure. But I've heard a lot from other pirate crews. The man was already willing to break all the traditions of Rome while he was alive. In the Age of the Imperium, the gladiator games were reserved to the scum of Roman society, the indebted citizens, the criminals, and generally those who had nothing to lose but their lives. Commodus was the only Emperor to descend into the arena as a gladiator, and the senatorial elite of Rome hated him for that, among many other things."
  
  "Jackson mentioned that." The son of Poseidon had added that pretty much everything about the movie Gladiator was wrong. Though honestly, it had been a bit redundant to tell him. The real Commodus had very few things to do with the movie one, save the narcissism and the megalomania.
  
  Commodus may be ridiculous and was incredibly arrogant, but just looking at him, Ethan wasn't sure he could handle him in a duel. The former Emperor was a mountain of muscles, and there had been videos of him alongside the rules showing him train against two or three gladiators at the same time, and winning.
  
  Commodus was really that dangerous sword in hand, and if someone had to fight him one-on-one, it was better if it was Perseus or Bianca di Angelo. Ethan wasn't feeling suicidal enough to verify if Luke or himself could do the job.
  
  "Where is our peerless 'King of Pirates', by the way?"
  
  "I don't know. He told me he had something to check alone, and that he would be back by noon. Since it has been very calm, I presume he doesn't work on a bomb to destroy Narcissist Island."
  
  "Yes, the last thing we need is Jackson to challenge the Master of Olympus to a contest of who can generate the biggest explosion." Anne Bonny approved. "I don't think he would win this one, but I'm almost certain there wouldn't be much left of the Sea of Monsters at the end of it."
  
  11 January 2007, somewhere into the depths of the Forge of All Perils
  
  The experimentation room was dark and had been created specifically to repel all Oracle, Augury, and Prophet powers. It existed on no plan, and the operational secrecy had been maximal.
  
  It was one of his darkest secrets, and so far, there was every reason to expect success on that front.
  
  None of it provided much consolation when you screamed in agony.
  
  Perseus did sigh in relief when the pain ceased and the metal circlets opened.
  
  "This was unpleasant," the former Tyrant remarked.
  
  In fact, it had been far more than that. In his previous life, he had died and endured plenty of torment. And in this one, he was no stranger to pain and suffering either.
  
  But this couple of minutes largely had their place in his memories of 'things to avoid repeating for the rest of his life'.
  
  'I've never heard someone enjoying the examination of his soul," the old white Telekhine answered. "And I had to be more cautious than usual due to the Lust Curse afflicting you."
  
  Perseus stretched and then threw himself into a nearby armchair. Seriously, he wasn't going to stay in this torture seat for one more second than necessary, no matter how much his body protested.
  
  "You will likely have to use the Golden Fleece."
  
  "I will do so as soon as this meeting is over." The Demigod promised. "And I will note that I clearly fulfilled my part of the deal."
  
  "Yes, you did. The opportunity to study the Curse of Three and Thirteen on a live subject was assuredly...illuminating." Like all scientists a bit too focused on their field of studies, the morals of this Telekhine had taken a few blows after decades of illegal experiments, assuming the white-finned monster had many at birth. "I'm going to prepare a full report, obviously. But I suppose you want a short resume right now?"
  
  "You suppose correctly, Researcher."
  
  "Then I suppose I can begin by the very obvious," the Telekhine bared his strange dentition, which had several missing fangs, and some curious replacement weapons in it that were in no way natural. "The Curse indeed fulfils the purpose you described. In a certain radius, no more than twelve kilometres, creation of magical lust-enslavement for three beings you hold attraction to, and the reverse where thirteen holds power over you. And no, it is not possible to transfer the Curse onto another soul, unless you happen to want to shatter yours in the process."
  
  "What a shame," there were some things he wasn't to do even with his life at stake, but sacrificing someone to prevent the activation of a high-level Curse would not be something he would regret for more than a few seconds. "The rest?"
  
  "The Adjudicator protection functions correctly, and prevented the activation of the Curse in the first place, which is why we're having this polite conversation. This is a fine soul-shield you earned, Perseus Jackson. But if it cracks-"
  
  "If it cracks, I will know it in the next couple of seconds before becoming madder than I already am."
  
  "This is a way to describe it," the Researcher replied. "You have heard of the incidents on Olympus and New Byzantium, I take it?"
  
  "Who didn't?"
  
  The old white monster shrugged.
  
  "Then you must know the amount of Lust certain immortals were influenced by. You would be on the receiving end of something twice stronger at least. That's enough to be utterly consumed, mind and soul."
  
  "I know." It took a serious effort of will to not rub his chest to attenuate the pain. It could wait for the Golden Fleece to repair the damage. "That's why I think I have a solution."
  
  "I don't see how this can be 'solved'," the soul-examiner specialist informed him truthfully. "As I'm sure someone as intelligent and resourceful is aware, a Divine Curse as a rule can only be cancelled by the divine party who cast it. If not, an infusion of divine power inside the mortal body is very much required. In turn, this results in the mortal becoming immortal or perishing in the process."
  
  "The dices are prepared so that the house wins."
  
  "What do you expect? Divine Curses is one of the methods the Gods have to keep mortals in line. That and making sure they can incinerate most of you when they take their divine form. And it is something that is true for most of the Pantheons."
  
  The old Telekhine cleaned the blood of some of his instruments.
  
  "But I suppose my curiosity desperately is piqued by your words. Speak, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "First of all, you absolutely confirm the Curse is powered and based on a foundation of Lust?"
  
  "I confirm it," the Researcher didn't hesitate. "This is fairly typical of the way certain deities operate when they are not sure the target can truly be in love with someone."
  
  The former Tyrant didn't know if he had to take it as a compliment or an insult from Aphrodite.
  
  "Good."
  
  "I wouldn't call it good, but the Don said you are the Boss!"
  
  "Did you hear what really happened to the Gorgons?"
  
  "I have read the file you sent, but why changing the-"
  
  This was really funny to watch a Telekhine get absolutely gob-smacked.
  
  "You can't be thinking what I am."
  
  "I do."
  
  "I would have thought," the Researcher began hesitantly, "that Medusa and her sisters proved that piling up a Curse on top of another didn't work. There was a boost of the Demigoddess' power, but ultimately, the Curse was not cancelled, and Apotheosis was well outside their reach."
  
  "That's indeed a correct sum-up of this disastrous endeavour." Perseus grinned. "On the other hand, it could hardly be otherwise, no? Let's think about it calmly. The Curses of the Snake the Gorgon Sisters suffered under had nothing in common with the Eidolon-offered Stone-Changing Curse. Or if it has, I've not found it, no matter how hard and long I searched."
  
  "That's a fair argument." The old white Telekhine conceded. "Of course, I would prefer to have the Gorgon's testimonies-"
  
  "The red folder."
  
  There was much grumbling, of course, but a scientist' curiosity was a singular thing. And the Researcher wanted very much the answer to their questions.
  
  "They screwed up pretty much everything. By choosing two curses so different in nature-"
  
  "The possibility of them merging in a single Curse was nonexistent, yes. There couldn't be any synchronisation. All they proved that, as you said, the Curses could be 'piled up'."
  
  "I begin to understand the 'solution', you hinted at. But it remains extremely dangerous. For the symbolism to be maximal, you would have to be Cursed by the same Goddess, or by someone having close links to her. I don't think the one you are the Adjudicator to is going to do you a favour, and the court of the Dove is not going to risk its mistress' wrath. Both have too much to lose."
  
  "Who says anything with the divine symbolism?" Perseus asked with his favourite expression on his face. "The Goddess of Love cursed me with a Lust Curse. Something, that, unless I'm greatly mistaken, falls under the seven cardinal sins."
  
  "It's not a concept the Greek-Roman Pantheon holds as a sacred truth."
  
  "But it's not something they've been able to get rid of in the few decades they've had to spread their cults anew."
  
  The Telekhine tried to open his maw to speak, but for several seconds, words clearly failed him.
  
  Finally, the old white monster burst into laughter.
  
  "HA! HA! HA!"
  
  It took a good minute for the soul-specialist to contain his hilarity.
  
  "You are completely insane, Boss, you know that?"
  
  Perseus delivered his most charming smile.
  
  "Right. Given the circumstances, I suppose you want something to be prepared, but that you can trigger when and where you decide, right?"
  
  "Yes." The leader of the Suicide Squad answered truthfully. "I have a plan to convince the Goddess of Love to cancel her Curse, but I don't know if I will be granted the opportunity to strike before the challenge is over. In case of failure, the counter-measure must thus be ready."
  
  "This is indeed wise of you. But the building materials will be expensive to acquire."
  
  "While some of my treacherous lieutenants were busy stealing toys of no importance, I stole the valuable stuff, including some enchanted gemstones." It wouldn't be said he would not see that coming.
  
  "I will need twenty-four hours for the first studies. For the rest, I will likely have to go with you on the Inevitable Doom. Perfection takes time. What Deadly Sin do you want me to forge into a Curse?"
  
  "Sloth."
  
  It was in all likelihood the only one which could fully neutralise Lust on short notice. He was certainly not going to risk Pride or Wrath. Assuming he survived, the Narcissist's island and everything in the vicinity certainly wouldn't.
  
  "Of course, it is just an expensive contingency. Should things proceed to my satisfaction, before the end of this Great Quest, the Triumvirate will have been humbled, I will personally turn Commodus into my footrest, and the Council will have to grit its teeth and let me enjoy a life of disgusting hedonist behaviour at New Byzantium for the next year or so."
  
  "And if things don't proceed to your satisfaction, Boss?"
  
  "Why then," the Tyrant grinned, "I will have no choice but to show why you don't back a villain into a corner. I will claim the Titan of Sin's mantle, and allies or foes, all will love me and despair."
  
  Author's note:
  
  Imperator Commodus cordially invites you to the Adjudicator Games. And you're not authorised to refuse, heroes. Sorry.
  
  The end of the Great Quest is in sight.
  
  Everyone is about to converge on an island built by an Emperor not part of the Triumvirate.
  
  Obviously, the carnage and the treacheries are going to be glorious!
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Games of Folly
  Chapter 28
  
  Games of Folly
  
  Jackson had been right; after the Clash of the Titans, the Triumvirate was not willing to launch a direct assault against the Forge of All Perils.
  
  Having seen the Telekhine preparations to annihilate whoever tried such a thing, I didn't blame them for a single second.
  
  Still, most of the Suicide Squad hated the outcome.
  
  We were so close to triumph, but the Great Quest wasn't over. There were more lethal dangers in the way, all because the Triumvirate leader's was partially influenced by Love, and also because of his pride as a Roman officer.
  
  We were so close, and it didn't matter.
  
  If we wanted to free the God of War, we had to participate into a contest where the High Judge was a madman, and win this modern parody of the Twelve Labours.
  
  I love to think that the Triumvirate acknowledged very fast that they should have swallowed their pride and accepted the exchange of prisoners soon after setting foot upon this island Commodus transformed into a vanity project.
  
  But by then it was really too late.
  
  The Suicide Squad had once again plunged willingly into a trap.
  
  Now we had to fight our way out of it.
  
  It wouldn't have been so bad, if we hadn't had to don this ridiculous gladiator attires and parade in front of a crowd of tens of thousands half-naked.
  
  And of course this time, our performance was really watched live by Olympus and every immortal wanting to keep an eye on our Great Quest...
  
  Chapter 27 of Seas of Madness: Chronicles of the Suicide Squad Volume 2, by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  16 January 2007, Grand Strategium, Forge of All Perils
  
  The corridor which was leading to the office had once been plain and devoid of any decorations.
  
  Now that there were plenty of skulls and monster remains to 'impress' the visitors, Ethan almost missed the lack of decoration.
  
  He knocked at the door, and was immediately told to enter.
  
  "Good morning, my treacherous lieutenant!"
  
  Yes, it was going to be one of those days.
  
  The son of Nemesis breathed out and managed after several seconds to find some calm inside his body.
  
  "You wanted to see me?"
  
  "I did! I have finally chosen the forty-nine noble heroes who will come with me and participate in the so-called Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules."
  
  A paper flew into his hands. Ethan didn't even bother reading it.
  
  "Let me guess. The twenty-seven Demigods, Demigoddesses, and others who are the core of the Suicide Squad have volunteered. Then to reach the fifty threshold, you compensated with Legionnaires and the crew of the Red October."
  
  Perseus Jackson grinned.
  
  "Read."
  
  Ethan lowered his eyes. The first names were what he had expected: Annabeth, Luke, Bianca, Clarisse, Dakota, the penguin duo, the surviving Huntresses, the daughters of Bellona...
  
  These were indeed the officers of the Suicide Squad and the survivors of the battles of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  But below them, there weren't any Legionnaire names. There were Telekhine names.
  
  "What the hell, Jackson? Okay, these sea demons have been reliable so far, but-"
  
  "We will need them to repair and forge new weapons for us between each 'Labour' the High Judge tries to kill us with. And in the case the Coliseum goes into lake-mode, we will have a significant advantage."
  
  "We already had a significant advantage," the son of Nemesis remarked. "Last time I checked, you swim like a dolphin and your powers include large-scale Hydrokinesis."
  
  "True," the other black-haired Demigod nodded. "But there are Tasks I'm unsuited for, whereas the Telekhines aren't."
  
  Ethan opened his mouth to ask, but he closed it down without saying a word. For his peace of mind, he wasn't sure he wanted to get the truthful answers for something like that.
  
  "Still, the Legionnaires and the crew of the Red October will stand idle."
  
  "I prefer using the term 'strategic reserve', my treacherous lieutenant." The son of Poseidon cackled in an obviously fake virtuous tone.
  
  "Seriously?"
  
  The hilarity disappeared like it had been switched off.
  
  "For the record, I don't plan to lose this challenge, for a lot of reasons. But in the unlikely case we do, we will need a significant amount of power to hunt down the Triumvirate so we can free the God of War. And let's be honest, Captain Ramius and his men are kind of useless when they can't bring their submarine to the battlefield, which is the case here."
  
  "And the Legionnaires? Tribune Keller is hardly a gladiator specialist, but she and her command know how to fight."
  
  "They will fight as Legionnaires, yes." Perseus scowled. "If I had the certainty the Labours involved fighting barbarian mercenaries twelve times, I would have chosen as many as I could. But Commodus believes himself to be destined to replace the God of Strength. And to make matters worse, he knows what happened last time there was someone who fought us conventionally."
  
  "Monsters?"
  
  "Monsters are guaranteed, yes." The leader of the Suicide Squad answered. "The real threats, however, are guaranteed to be more subtle. I am ready to bet quite a few Drachmas the Sire of the Drakons and some other enemies are using Commodus as their tool here."
  
  "Okay, I understand. But a few Legionnaires are going to be more useful if the Coliseum doesn't go into a lake-mode."
  
  "In the short-term? Yes, it is likely. But I have to see further away from that, Ethan."
  
  The young Demigod tried to think about it, and the conclusion he arrived to-
  
  "Politics," he muttered.
  
  "Continue." Perseus said with a smug expression.
  
  "You have saved a significant number of Legionnaires, and since they participated in the Clash of the Titans, they will be paid by our benefactors too. Should they happen to come home safe and healthy, you will have earned plenty of favours from the Third Legio and other competent factions inside the Legions of New Byzantium. But it can't happen if they shed their blood and their lives on the sands of the arena."
  
  "Absolutely correct," the mad Demigod smiled - though after all the battles and the insanity, Ethan feared nobody could be called 'sane' in good conscience anymore. "I will respect my part of the deal with the Third Legio, and Tribune Keller and her survivors will certainly earn each something above sixty thousand Drachmas."
  
  "Something above?" Ethan commented drily.
  
  Perseus shrugged.
  
  "Most of the Olympians are waiting for the outcome of the Adjudicator Games, to see if they have to reward us for the completion of a near-impossible Great Quest, or to pay for our funerals. The Drachmas and other rewards' values will be decided for sure in a few days."
  
  And if it was sixty thousand Drachmas for Legionnaires who had only been involved in the last large-scale battle, and for an auxiliary role at that, the Suicide Squad's members were going to become incredibly wealthy, easily the wealthiest mortals of New Byzantium this time, above the great - and few - Legacy dynasties which dominated the political life of the Roman and Greek city.
  
  Assuming, of course, they survived the 'Twelve Labours' in the first place.
  
  "Okay, I understand the logic. But this is a dangerous game we play here, Jackson."
  
  "The Legionnaires we have here wouldn't have enjoyed being treated as Gallowborne, and it is not prudent to always repeat the same tricks over and over for the same adventure. In the end, the Adjudicator Challenge was always going to place the Suicide Squad in a perilous situation again, it couldn't be otherwise."
  
  To his sorrow, Ethan had to admit it was a good point...as usual.
  
  "And what will you do to prevent this 'High Judge' from engineering a bloodbath?"
  
  "That's simple, I will trigger the bloodbath before he can. Check out the last name of the list."
  
  Ethan did, and almost regretted it.
  
  "How in the name of H...how by the Pit did you convince your Uncle to release him?"
  
  Yes, the Rich One owed his nephew quite a few favours, and they had his daughter, the Lightning Thief, as one of the Suicide Squad's officers, but that remained quite an exploit for any Demigod to achieve this!
  
  "The ways of the Underworld are impenetrable," the red eye of the son of Poseidon shone malevolently. And his pious tone absolutely fooled no one.
  
  16 January 2007, the Docks, Forge of All Perils
  
  The Docks were still as busy as ever this afternoon.
  
  And it went without saying that there was a large crowd of shark monsters surrounding the Inevitable Doom, manipulating cranes and other heavy engines so that massive boxes could be moved in record time.
  
  It was amusing to think plenty of the containers were not weapons this time, but food. With twenty-two Telekhines coming with them and some twenty-seven members of the Suicide Squad, the original food stocks could never have handled the demand.
  
  And as they had to travel fast to 'Narcissist Island', as Grant and quite a few others had nicknamed it, foraging was not really an option. Therefore they had to bring a lot of drinks and food aboard. Annabeth was rather certain some of it would end up playing a part in a ridiculously crazy plan once more, because that was the Suicide Squad did.
  
  The accords signed for the coming 'Adjudicator Game' may prohibit the kind of arsenal that had been fired at Tethys' forces, but everyone knew the rules could be interpreted in a way that would leave them effectively torn apart.
  
  And it would be a novel approach to wield food like a weapon...that said, drinks, and wine in particular, had already been used in an offensive manner several times, mainly with Dakota, son of Bacchus.
  
  Annabeth looked at all the agitation around her, and yawned.
  
  She had read several chronicles retelling the Twelve Labours of Hercules - the true one, not the vulgar Roman parody waiting for them at the end of the journey - and it had ensured she went to her bed very late.
  
  Fortunately, she would have a lot of time to catch up with her sleep in the next days. The Inevitable Doom was fast enough to destroy most monstrous attempts to intercept them, and now with their reputation, the enemies were not really pushing each other to be the first to attack them.
  
  Annabeth struggled to keep a yawn inside her throat, and progressively lost the 'fight'.
  
  Damn it, it was getting way too humid and hot in these docks, this had a somnolent effect on her.
  
  "Jade! Do you know where is-"
  
  The question died in her mouth, and suddenly the atmosphere became oppressive, but in a far colder way than hadn't been there before.
  
  The crowd of Telekhines suddenly divided itself in two, revealing a dark figure in unmarked obsidian-coloured armour.
  
  It should have been funny, but it really wasn't; the Telekhines generally didn't do it for anyone but Perseus Jackson.
  
  And even then, some of the shark monsters had to be reminded of it by their overseers or by Jackson himself.
  
  Here they did it without waiting for any command to be voiced.
  
  The newcomer wasn't tall, and his armour was devoid of any sign that might identify him.
  
  The scabbard, which must have held a short sword until recently, was empty.
  
  Yet with every footstep he took in the direction of the Inevitable Doom, the impression of unease grew.
  
  It was like this procession was a spectacle, but one celebrating the death of everyone.
  
  The moves seemed somewhat exaggerated, bristling with arrogance, but the kind of arrogance you earned after eliminating so many enemies that you didn't care anymore what others thought of you.
  
  This was a monster, her Demigoddess' senses screamed to her, albeit one hiding in human form.
  
  Annabeth sighed in deep relief once the newcomer disappeared without a word inside the Super-Mega Yacht.
  
  "So this is the 'reinforcement' Bianca di Angelo was negotiating for in the last couple of days..."
  
  "Indeed."
  
  Annabeth almost jumped when the voice arrived to her ear, and she had to control herself not to strike the infuriating Demigod who had appeared on her right side without her noticing it first.
  
  "Is it a good idea?" she growled.
  
  "Is it a good idea to build an entire temple to my beloved sister Kymopoleia? Well, I don't intend to build her something as big as the Pantheon. As for the rest of the issues, I will have a superb architect by my side, no?"
  
  Annabeth didn't know if she had to blush or strangle him.
  
  It didn't help that Perseus Jackson, much like plenty of boys on the Docks, had not bothered wearing a T-Shirt. And the view was really nice, she had to admit it in the privacy of her head.
  
  "I was more referring to the problem of the mysterious killer you invited onboard. Is it a good idea to invite someone like him? I thought we were supposed to participate in a series of contests, not a display of slaughter."
  
  "With Commodus playing the role of High Judge, I'm afraid the idea of avoiding the slaughter is beyond our reach." The son of Poseidon demolished her already well-diminished hopes. "It is going to be epic butchery, no matter how hard I try to plan around it. The real question is who's going to do the killing, and who will be the vanquished. As I don't fancy dying, logically, we must do our utmost to be victorious."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Really," the black-haired Demigod assured her. "Of course, I wouldn't have needed to use this kind of bloody contingencies if Commodus didn't know our exact order of battle. But he does. I'm pretty sure all his backers, beginning with the Sire of the Drakons, have explained to him all the identities and the skills of our Demigods' party. Accordingly, I must introduce a factor he knows nothing about, in the hope it will destabilise the High Judge and all the opposition."
  
  "And do you think it will work?"
  
  "I give it odds around thirty percent."
  
  Annabeth cleared her throat.
  
  "That doesn't sound like a lot." And worryingly, Perseus didn't disagree.
  
  "It would have been far better if my Lord Uncle had released the three gladiators I requested instead of one. I would have had far more choices, and unpredictability would be on my side. As it is, this 'reinforcement' is very much a one-shot asset."
  
  "And when the bolt will have been shot, so to speak?"
  
  "Why, we will improvise, of course!"
  
  Damn this roguish grin. And damn her hormones.
  
  Lou Ellen had been completely right; she had a crush for bad boys.
  
  And Annabeth had no idea about what she intended to do about it.
  
  "We will leave with the evening tide." Fortunately, the command arrived to put an end to her blushing and the emotions troubling her mind. "Please ensure the penguins are aboard within the next hour, and this time, unfortunately, they are not authorised to bring the tons of explosives they requested."
  
  "You mean 'fortunately', surely?" Annabeth tried without enthusiasm.
  
  "I know what I said, your Owlishness."
  
  The daughter of Annabeth groaned loudly in exasperation.
  
  Of course he did.
  
  17 January 2007, Super-Mega Yacht Inevitable Doom, somewhere in the Sea of Monsters
  
  No doubt some of the Legacies and Demigods at home would forget it in the years to come, but the Sea of Monsters was a Zone Mortalis. It was a place crawling with dangerous monsters and where abnormal weather was the norm.
  
  Today at dawn, the Sea of Monsters had enjoyed reminding the Suicide Squad why this was indeed a Zone Mortalis and not a holiday sea resort. The storm had come out of nowhere, and in the midst of waves three times the height of the Inevitable Doom, they had all to slay sea snakes and giant sea monsters with all the weapons they had onboard, going from electrified harpoons to swords, and from Greek fire launchers to turret-mounted artillery.
  
  It had lasted only fifty minutes, but it had felt like four hours, and everyone's arms and legs were hurting of the battle.
  
  Luke was pretty sure the Sea of Monsters was mocking them now: the sky had returned a limpid blue, and the sun was now forcing them to remove as many clothes as possible so that the tropical warmth remained somewhat bearable.
  
  "I didn't miss the previous Zone Mortalis, and I certainly won't miss this one, if we happen to get out of here alive," the son of Hermes declared to Dakota as the son of Bacchus handed him a bottle of lemon soda. The Roman Demigod just chuckled and went to deliver the bottles requested by the other members of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "These seas are certainly something where we aren't at our advantage," Richard Grant agreed while removing shirt and trousers to go for a short black swimwear. "I prefer fighting on land, where we can see the monsters coming from kilometres away."
  
  "It certainly has some appeal," the blonde-haired Demigod spoke. "Did the storm send us far off-course?"
  
  "According to our navigator-witch, not at all," the son of Hercules 'reassured' him. "We have been pushed far eastwards than the initial course called for, but this is in the process of being corrected. We may have lost a few hours, but both the Lightning Thief and Jackson agree we will reach 'Narcissist Island' tomorrow. In all likelihood, it will be around two or three in the afternoon."
  
  It was fast. But then the Inevitable Doom had the engines and the Cyclops-engineering to sail at speeds that most 'conventional' super-yachts' captains were only able to dream of.
  
  "Then let's hope we will get no storm today or tonight. We will have other problems soon enough, but please let us avoid another battle at dawn against the Sea of Monsters."
  
  It didn't exactly please him that Grant began to frown.
  
  "What? Did I mention something unpleasant?"
  
  "No, you didn't." There was a pause. "But there's smoke on the horizon."
  
  "Smoke?" But yes, he had only to turn his head, and there was indeed a black plume. And since the Inevitable Doom was now accelerating in this very direction, the more minutes were spent waiting, the more this column of smoke was getting bigger and more threatening.
  
  "So there is an island there, as the maps mentioned."
  
  "You don't seem pleased."
  
  "The maps didn't mention a volcano."
  
  "Ah."
  
  Luke winced. Yes, that was a problem.
  
  "I suppose that if it is indeed something as bad as the eruption we left behind on the island that was Forge MP-42, our captain will make a detour."
  
  This would cost them a few hours, needless to say, but the Suicide Squad could afford it, and honestly there were going to participate in some crazy challenge, and for the moment, trying to bash their heads against a volcano was not written anywhere.
  
  But as the minutes passed, it became clear there were no mountains expelling burning rocks, lava, and other unhealthy materials for the human lungs and skin. There wasn't a submarine mountain or some rocky outcrop barely above the waves either.
  
  No, the smoke both Grant and him had believed to come from a volcano did not in fact come from such a natural explosive event.
  
  As the Inevitable Doom made good progress, they could see an island of white sands getting closer.
  
  It was inhabited, and could boast a city of rather elegant white houses, protected by a single set of pale walls.
  
  Or rather this was the spectacle that had been true some days ago, because right now, the city was in flames.
  
  "By the Holy Grenades!" Rico arrived and fatally, opened his beak. "Did they begin the festivities without me?"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous," Dakota had returned, one soda bottle in each hand. "They have an ocean liner anchored on the other side of the island. It is likely pirates decided to attack both the city and the tourists by surprise."
  
  It sounded almost reasonable, especially as in the next minutes, the aforementioned ocean liner was revealed to their eyes.
  
  It was a massive ship. Yes, the Inevitable Doom was essentially a cruiser in tonnage and size, but this hull was something far bigger, a true colossus of the sea.
  
  All of it clearly was useless, for it was no warship, and the closer they got, the more evident were the signs of battle. The wind began to turn, and the Demigods began to hear the screams.
  
  The human screams.
  
  "Olympus, Atlantis, and the Underworld have mercy..."
  
  Smoke obscured a large part of the island, but what Luke could see with his eyes was already enough to freeze the blood in his veins.
  
  There was some kind of horde sacking and plundering the city, and though the details were for now unavailable, a smell of carrion and death was assaulting his nose.
  
  "We have to intervene!" Ellen the Huntress had arrived, and her face was truly terrifying. She had a silver bow in her hands, and if looks could kill, the perpetrators of that atrocity would be busy agonising. "The crimes of these males must be punished all at once!"
  
  "I agree," Richard Grant voiced his support immediately. "What?" he asked when plenty of boys and girls threw him a surprised look. "Yes, I agree with the Huntresses here. Seriously, this is a war crime and something abominable. We are heroes, are we not? And we are not in danger of running out of time that badly. I think we can spend a few hours teaching a lesson to these monsters."
  
  "True," the other Huntress cleared her throat. "Clearly these monsters lost their transport just as they were about to land on this island, but now they are trapped. We don't have many missiles on this ship, but we don't really need them. This will be vermin extermination, and I'm sure Lady Artemis will completely approve their eradication."
  
  There was a cough.
  
  Everyone turned his head.
  
  Perseus Jackson waved his orange tricorn at them.
  
  "Extraordinary," the son of Poseidon told in a voice that was only charming superficially, "everything you just said was wrong. Well, beyond the approval of your Goddess, of course."
  
  "Explain, now."
  
  Jackson placed his hat back upon his head. One could almost wonder why he bothered, given that he only wore some short swimwear.
  
  "The monsters didn't lose their transport; you are all able to see it."
  
  The majority of the Demigods and the Demigoddesses stared.
  
  "But there's only...oh, no."
  
  "Oh no, indeed. This ocean liner is the Ixion. If you had tried to use a spyglass to read its name, you would have known there was a problem."
  
  "The Ixion?" Annabeth asked. "Like the genitor of Centauros who eventually gave birth to-"
  
  The expressions of incomprehension turned one by one to horror.
  
  "Yes, the same Centauros who fornicated with mares and ended up creating the race of Centaurs." Perseus Jackson declared coldly. "The Ixion is clearly both their transport, their base, their stable, and the means they stay hidden until it is time to launch raids. From the outside, it is clearly an ocean liner. Deep inside however, it is more likely a stable to breed the next generation of Centaurs."
  
  Luke couldn't believe things could be worse, but these words proved how wrong he was.
  
  Centaurs. Thousands of Centaurs were attacking this island, and if Jackson was right, they were only in it not only for the looting and the pillage, but also to rape and kidnap every woman they wanted to multiply their numbers.
  
  It was a nightmare. And it was happening in front of them.
  
  "We have to intervene." Richard spoke. His face was way paler than it had been minutes ago, but the determination had not left his eyes. "We have to. It doesn't matter if these are Centaurs or some other monster. There are innocent there that are losing their lives against monsters. And the Inevitable Doom is largely capable to sink the Ixion in a few salvoes."
  
  "You're right, but we can't."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Jackson winced at the scream of the Huntress, and he was hardly the only one.
  
  "Not so loud," the leader of the Suicide Squad complained.
  
  "I knew it! I knew it like you were like every male! You are a dirty pig, rejoicing at the idea of-"
  
  "Did any of you bother watching the golden banners hoisted by the Ixion?" Perseus cut through the insults like he wielded a sword of Stygian Iron. "They show large 'NH' golden letters with a golden leonine head on a purple field."
  
  Luke hadn't heard of a banner like that before today. But it didn't require a lot of cleverness to add two plus two.
  
  "These are the banners of Commodus."
  
  Perseus clapped his hands theatrically.
  
  "Precisely," the red eye shone in a sinister light, "the Ixion is one of the ships which are transporting the spectators which will soon fill the stands of the Commodus Coliseum. Attacking it would be a grave breach of the High Judge's authority, and would likely result in penalties at best, in our disqualification at worse."
  
  "You mean we can't do anything to them under any circumstances?" Jade asked aghast.
  
  "No, of course not," the son of Poseidon grimaced. "Should they be so stupid as to attack us, we have of course the right to defend ourselves and slay them to the last. But there's only so much we can play with the rules here, and as you can clearly see, the Centaurs are busy invading and destroying this island. They are not interested in us, and I'm sure they have been warned to stay away from the Inevitable Doom."
  
  "This is...we have to do something!"
  
  "Wait until the Adjudicator Challenge is over?" Perseus suggested to Ellen. "Once it is, you will be able to kill them all at your leisure. Except Chiron and the Party Ponies, pretty much every Centaur Tribe can be slaughtered with impunity. The Gods aren't really sorry to see their numbers decrease, I assure you. The problem is mainly to kill all of them as fast as possible; when they begin to think they are going to be crushed decisively, the Centaurs disperse all over a large area, and it's hell to hunt them down."
  
  "Is there really nothing we can do?" Hylla pleaded.
  
  "Not without destroying every chance we have to ever complete successfully this Quest," the self-proclaimed King of Pirates shook his head with what appeared to be genuine regret. "I apologise, but for today, there's no way we can punish for the Centaurs for what they're doing. Blame Commodus, if it makes you feel better. It is his fault the Ixion is here and has the protection it enjoys until the end of the Challenge."
  
  It didn't make Luke feel better, no. And there was now the even more unpleasant question: what kind of monster Commodus truly was, to think that filling Centaurs like those inside his Coliseum was going to result in a formidable audience?
  
  18 January 2007, Super-Mega Yacht Inevitable Doom, approaches of 'Narcissist Island'
  
  At first, it didn't look so bad.
  
  There appeared to be two huge forts defending the entrance of a gullet leading deeper into the island.
  
  It seemed to be a reasonably fortified island, which seemed to be nothing of note because it was the Sea of Monsters.
  
  This 'normality' didn't last more than a few seconds.
  
  First, they watched as an ocean liner half of the size of the Ixion went through the entrance of the gullet. Its name was the Lamia, in case anyone had any doubt about whether it transported monsters or not.
  
  About three minutes later, Dakota realised that the forts were indeed defensive structures, but they happened to be incredibly disturbing to watch.
  
  What he had mistaken for towers were in fact giant statues of Commodus taking various arrogant poses.
  
  The master of the island had built them to be both monuments to his ego and support for a large amount of heavy weapons.
  
  "You have to be kidding me. By contrast," Drew Tanaka spat while glaring at the biggest statue, which represented Commodus wearing a Nemean Lion's skin and an enormous bloody axe, "I think Jackson has good taste, and we're speaking of a Demigod who loves orange!"
  
  "I know," Dakota answered. "I know!" His poor eyes couldn't stop watching, no matter how hard they tried. "And they appear to have sculpted the Gullet to represent the 'exploits' of the Roman Emperor."
  
  The theme seemed to be 'Commodus triumphing all the time' when it wasn't 'Commodus purging the traitors'.
  
  As always, the 'High Judge' had visibly ordered to be represented only as his over-muscular parody of Hercules. Except unlike the son of Zeus, Commodus was never seen wielding a mace. The Nemean Lion was everywhere, both on the banners and the statues, but Commodus didn't seem to choose the same preferences as the true hero of the Twelve Labours: in some cases, he had a spear, in others, a sword.
  
  The son of Bacchus wished he could say it was the lowest point of this series of traumatising sights.
  
  It wasn't.
  
  Once the Inevitable Doom finally emerged from the gullet, Dakota grimaced because all the previous statements had been a prelude for this nightmare.
  
  There was a Roman City waiting for them.
  
  No.
  
  There was the parody of a Roman City waiting for them.
  
  It was colossal.
  
  It also looked incredibly fake and the delirium of someone completely out of touch of reality.
  
  There were three red-painted aqueducts which seemed to have been built not to transport water, but just present an interesting facade.
  
  The villas facing the harbour were bloodily enormous, with gardens and tall columns, but you couldn't see any sign of 'normal' housing.
  
  There was a Coliseum. You couldn't miss it; it was something way bigger than any monument and temple they had seen so far. It felt like Cyclops and Giants had sculpted it from the very earth before soaking it into some kind of bronze-gold shade that insulted everything artistic.
  
  And all around it, there were giant statues to the glory of Commodus. Most of them showed the 'High Judge' in various gladiator armours.
  
  "Fake," Elvis Knight commented next to him.
  
  "Fake," Dakota approved. "Everything is...wrong. No city works like that. It looks like someone watched the main Roman monuments built by the Republic and the Empire, and forgot the purpose of them and everything else. Where is the Forum? Where are the baths? Where are the temples?"
  
  "The only temple I see is this monstrosity of white and gold on the right of the Coliseum," Michael yew pointed out. "And with the number of statues of Commodus everywhere, I think we can agree no Olympian is meant to be celebrated and worshipped there."
  
  "Gods, and to think we had seen some arrogant enemies before...they were all rather modest compared to Commodus."
  
  As if to echo these words, fireworks began to explode in the sky, and in purple light, they wrote a message that made plenty of Demigods wince or facepalm.
  
  WELCOME TO COLONY ANNA LUCIA COMMODIANA!
  
  "Can someone torch this island?" Ethan Nakamura reacted. "I will pay half of what I own just to see this horror perish in flames!"
  
  More fireworks were fired, and a new purple message flared up in front of the Super-Mega Yacht.
  
  WELCOME TO THE LABOURS OF NEO HERCULES!
  
  "That's it!" Richard Grant snarled. "Commodus' head is mine!"
  
  "Join the queue, male," Jenna the Huntress retorted. "I want to strangle him with his own entrails!"
  
  "As amusing as it is to listen to you," Bianca di Angelo drawled, and half of the Suicide Squad took sheepish expressions, "we should be focusing on the opposition, no? Look on the left, floating a couple of metres above the waves."
  
  "That's the Triumvirate Solar Ark, right?"
  
  Now that they concentrated upon it, it couldn't be missed. It was a very large carrier...and it burned with power.
  
  "Yes, this is the Spear of the Gods." The Lightning Thief shook her head. "And by its side, we have three ocean liners, and all of them smell like the lair of monsters."
  
  Dakota grimaced.
  
  These weren't small ships at all, and while the Triumvirate had a hard limit of people they could bring to this island, much like the Suicide Squad, Commodus was clearly not feeling up to restrict himself.
  
  And the Ixion was not among these ocean liners. How many bloodthirsty monsters was the master of 'Narcissist Island' going to bring for the 'Labours'?
  
  "I feel," and the son of Bacchus was glad his voice remained somewhat unshaken, "the Triumvirate isn't going to be our main foe this time around."
  
  "I feel the same," Richard Grant crossed his arms and scowled. "No wonder Jackson was certain it was going to end in butchery no matter who was chosen to be part of our fifty-strong party."
  
  "There's a welcoming committee taking position," over one hundred Legionnaires in ridiculous parade armours of purple and gold, and maybe twice as many dancers and spectacle performers.
  
  "Let's not make them wait," Bianca di Angelo said simply, and no one was in the mood to argue against the sorceress.
  
  18 January 2007, Commodianum Harbour, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  "You stand," the herald in purple proclaimed, "before the Mighty Imperator Caesar Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus Augustus Pius Felix Sarmaticus Germanicus Maximus Britannicus, the Once and Future Neo Hercules."
  
  For a couple of seconds, it felt as if the world stopped breathing.
  
  As if the Gods, the Titans, and the Primordials prepared for the worst scenario possible.
  
  "Ave Aurelius!"
  
  The world and the Gods breathed out in relief.
  
  The former Roman Emperor, however, did not look pleased at all.
  
  Richard smiled largely. Yes, the Usurper could 'enjoy' what the Suicide Squad endured on a daily basis.
  
  "I am," the High Judge growled, "Commodus, the Neo Hercules."
  
  "Are you sure?" Perseus could really beat anyone in a contest of irritation and pettiness, and he proved it at once. "Nah. You really have inherited some traits of your august father-"
  
  You had to give the son of Poseidon credit: it had taken him mere seconds to find the chink in Commodus' armour.
  
  "Who truly cares about my boring genitor? I have surpassed him in every way which matters!"
  
  They faced each other.
  
  The contrast was rather striking.
  
  Perseus had come in orange toga and with his orange tricorn, two things which would have ensured he looked ridiculous, if the honour guard of Commodus was not already dressed in purple-gold, making sure the Romans won the laurels of bad taste no matter how drastically Perseus attempted to injure their eyes.
  
  Commodus, however, had transformed the Nemean Lion skin so that it became extremely similar to their X-Suits, a tight cloth revealing every muscle and every part of his body in great detail. Of course, since it was a Nemean Lion, the colour was gold, and the glint was rather metallic.
  
  He was also far taller than Jackson. It wasn't totally a surprise; though he had aged during the perils of the Sea of Monsters, the grinning Demigod was below 1m70. But even if he hadn't been, Commodus would likely have been far taller than him. You could say many uncomplimentary things about the Usurper, but he was alas taller than any member of the Suicide Squad save Asterius and the biggest Telekhines. The former Caesar could boast two metres without lying, and maybe a bit more.
  
  "You have not presented the Goddess you're Adjudicating to."
  
  "Lady Isis, this is Felix. Ave Britannicus!"
  
  Commodus smiled. It was really much a forced expression.
  
  "Your husband had much to speak about you, Lady of Love," the previous Roman Emperor tried to play the seducer. "It seems we have many points in common."
  
  This undoubtedly referred to the fact the former Egyptian Queen had come in a dress of gold.
  
  Emphasis on the 'had'.
  
  Within the last thirty seconds, it had changed. Now Isis' clothes were all about lapis-lazuli and sapphires.
  
  "Really? I am not aware of anything we share, in this world or another."
  
  The rebuke was clear, and absolutely not subtle.
  
  The penguins, as could be expected of them, snickered.
  
  Commodus glared at them, but by the rules of the Adjudicator Challenge, he could hardly strike them down or inflict any sort of punishment upon them.
  
  As much as Richard wanted to punch this claimant Usurper and break his nose, remove a few teeth, and give him a good lesson, he couldn't. But the opposite was true too.
  
  Their enemy - also known as the 'High Judge' - couldn't touch them as long as they didn't break the rules.
  
  "You have to find a name for your team, of course."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "Let's keep it simple. We will be Team Adjudicator."
  
  "An unremarkable name," the claimant Usurper replied before adding a single word which rang like the most terrible of insults in his mouth. "Boring."
  
  "If you so desire," the mad grin was back, "I can name my Team 'Let's go murdering all the Roman Imperators of this Island'. I can also think of 'Team Ides of March', 'Team Hera did nothing wrong', and 'Team Golden Kitty'."
  
  Commodus flinched.
  
  Richard had to control himself not to snicker or add his own insults.
  
  Yeah, how did it feel to have your own insults slammed back in your faces with interest?
  
  "Team Adjudicator will be fine," the former Emperor swallowed heavily. "I see you arrived with fifty members, all fulfilling the basic perquisites of the Challenge. You will be presented to the rest of your team tomorrow morning when they will arrive."
  
  "Excellent!" when Jackson smiled with only his red eye opened, it was honestly pretty disturbing. "I suppose we will be able to organise a few training sessions in the Coliseum before the Adjudicator Challenge officially begins?"
  
  "You most assuredly will not," Commodus immediately denied him. "I have prepared a gladiator school next to the glorious Commodus Coliseum."
  
  The vindication on his face told without ambiguity that the terms employed had not been chosen by accident. The son of Marcus Aurelius really saw them as nothing but gladiators for his grand spectacle.
  
  "These will be your living quarters when you do not participate in my Games."
  
  "The Adjudicator Challenge," the son of the Earthshaker drily corrected.
  
  "The Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules," Commodus glared at him, but it didn't last long. There weren't many people capable to stare at the madness in Jackson's eyes, and it appeared that whatever megalomania inhabited him, the Roman tyrant had some life-preservation after all.
  
  The Lord of the Suicide Squad grinned.
  
  "As long as we don't lack for comfort!" The threat was veiled, but definitely here.
  
  "You won't. And you can be assured Team Triumvirate has been given rigorously an identical gladiator school to prepare itself! Now I'm sure you have had a long journey. Take everything you need from your ship, and Alaric will escort you to your Ludus. Dismissed!"
  
  By the stunned expressions of the honour guard and the other members of the Commodus delegation, this had not been part of the plan.
  
  But apparently, whatever the scheme had been, it had been scrapped.
  
  Commodus had evidently no wish to stay near Perseus Jackson for too long.
  
  It was a good omen.
  
  Unfortunately, Richard had a feeling this was just the first skirmish, and the real battles against this megalomaniac Emperor would not begin until they had to fight in the arena of the giant Coliseum...
  
  18 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Commodus was hardly known as the most competent Roman Emperor in history, but here you had to admit, his assurance they would not lack for comfort appeared to be nothing but the truth.
  
  They could not go outside of the Ludus - better known in English as a 'gladiator school' - without breaking the rules, but the facilities had been built to motivate them to stay inside. It was a three floors-high rectangular structure, and all the comfort and the luxury of the twenty-first century had been added to it.
  
  The rectangular courtyard with its training arena and the porticos with the Greek-styled columns would not have shocked the Empire-era gladiators by any means.
  
  On the other hand, Perseus was certain the gladiators who had fought when Commodus was still Emperor had not access to fridges and the kind of modern kitchen that they had been presented during the visit.
  
  There was much to complain about the self-proclaimed Neo Hercules, like his ridiculous divine name and other things. But Commodus really wanted them to be in top shape for his gladiatorial games. The refectory was large, built to present a friendly atmosphere, and they had around two dozen cooks in their service able to satisfy everyone's appetite. And it was just one thing among many. The Ludus had a Roman Bath Complex, in addition to the showers of the private bedrooms, and it could largely fit every member of the Suicide Squad all at once, while keeping the genders separate. There was an infirmary - the saniarium - and of course the armoury-arsenal where all armours and weapons would be kept, the infamous armamentarium. The summum choragium was the hall where you kept all your costumes and accessories which did not qualify as weapons and armours.
  
  There were plenty of other rooms, ranging from a special washing room to game rooms and map rooms on the upper floors. Their bedrooms were all on the first or the second floor; the ground floor was essentially for the gladiator training and equipment - and yes, everyone had realised how the pretence that it was a 'mere' Challenge had dropped in the first minutes.
  
  Commodus wanted a series of bloodthirsty gladiator games.
  
  Who was Perseus to deny him?
  
  "And this," Alaric, their Guide and Overseer finished, "is the morgue."
  
  Yeah, this one was greeted by a lot of teeth-grinding and hostile expressions.
  
  This was awfully predictable from Commodus.
  
  This didn't mean that if 'Neo Hercules' gave him the opportunity, the former Tyrant was going to miss the opportunity to engineer a few tragic accidents.
  
  "I see." He answered for the entire Suicide Squad. "I believe we will choose our own bedrooms in the next hours. Is there anything else?"
  
  The brown-bearded Germani suddenly looked ill-at-ease, but he nodded.
  
  "The Mighty Imperator Caesar has prepared the schedule for the glorious Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules. I have been instructed to deliver it into your hands, personally."
  
  He uttered a counter-curse to be certain, but the document was not cursed or enchanted in any way. It was papyrus, incidentally, not paper or parchment. For once, it did not feel like an insult.
  
  Perseus broke the Nemean Lion Seal and began to read.
  
  It was quick.
  
  Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules:
  
  20th January: Official Opening Ceremony, First Labour, Second Labour, Third Labour
  
  21st January: Rest
  
  22nd January: Fourth Labour, Fifth Labour
  
  23rd January: Sixth Labour, Seventh Labour
  
  24th January and 25th January: Rest
  
  26th January: Eighth Labour, Ninth Labour, Tenth Labour, Eleventh Labour, Twelfth Labour
  
  Seven days, and twelve Labours.
  
  It felt...fair.
  
  Undoubtedly, it was anything but true; meeting Commodus only once had been enough to confirm that.
  
  "There's a trap somewhere," Richard Grant grumbled when he handed the son of Hercules the papyrus and took a minute to read it.
  
  "Yes, of course." The son of Poseidon agreed easily as the Germani Praetorian left hastily. "The question is which kind of trap. I think you are far likely to know more than me when it comes to this part of the mythology. Any bright ideas?"
  
  "Nothing that comes to mind," the son of Hercules answered with a grunt. "With the megalomaniac calling each challenge a Labour, I think we're going to have to fight plenty of the beasts my father once had to deal with, but that was a given before Alaric gave you the schedule."
  
  "We could try to convince the Germani to tell us his master's secrets." Ethan remarked. "It isn't against the rules, no?"
  
  "It isn't," the former Tyrant was pleased by the ruthlessness of his treacherous lieutenant. "But I'm afraid it's kind of useless. This Alaric knows a bit more than we do, but his pool of knowledge is extremely limited. Commodus knows he will be often in contact with us, and he will have acted in consequence. In my humble opinion, the only being on this island who knows everything about the Labours is the master of the island himself."
  
  "And we can't touch him," Jade's unhappiness was not feigned at all.
  
  "And we can't touch him." Perseus conceded. "Annabeth, please copy the schedule before sunset, we will have to analyse it after dinner."
  
  "What do we do now?" Leo Valdez asked, trying to hide that a bit of smoke was still coming out of his ears, and unquestionably failing in the process.
  
  "I think it's time to choose our bedrooms for our stay here, Amigo! And you better make sure to select one which will neutralise fire damage and other types of spontaneous combustions!"
  
  Still, Perseus was wincing deep inside.
  
  Seven Days, Twelve Labours. What was he missing?
  
  You couldn't really complain about how spacious the living quarters were. The bedroom alone was three times the size of what you were given in a normal New Byzantium Barrack after you were claimed. You had a bed large enough for three or four teenagers, a large wardrobe, a desk, and it was given with the heating and the air conditioner to regulate the temperature as you wished.
  
  You couldn't keep weapons here - the armoury on the ground floor was made exactly for that - but there was a private bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, with a shower, a small bath, a toilet, and everything you might need to feel clean, including towels, soap, shower gel, comb, and more.
  
  No, Michael wasn't going to complain about the size of the private quarters.
  
  He could complain about the lack of taste, however.
  
  This bedroom in particular was the colour of blood.
  
  Yes, a very nice vivid crimson that was perfect to remind him of human blood.
  
  And then there was the statue.
  
  "Don't glare at it like that, my insane bard! It is just a boar statue!"
  
  "I hate it." The son of Apollo saw no reason to lie.
  
  "For your personal knowledge, my musical lieutenant, it is a copy of a famous boar statue one can find in the Uffizi Gallery of Florence."
  
  "And why the Hell it is here?"
  
  "I thought it was evident."
  
  "Well to me, it is not! Explain."
  
  "This bedroom, much like the others, I might add, is dedicated to one of the Labours of Hercules."
  
  "Oh," Michael Yew winced, "you mean-"
  
  "You chose to open the 'Room of the Erymanthian Boar', yes."
  
  "That's...err..." the words failed him. Commodus had adopted this theme for everything? How crazy was this Roman Emperor?
  
  "That's quite the dedication, yes," by the way Jackson looked at the boar statue, there were in all likelihood some recording devices hiding nearby. "Any other questions?"
  
  "Why are the sheets, the walls, and by Olympus, the toilet painted in that colour?"
  
  "According to some rumours, the Erymanthian Boars have an impenetrable skin which can be best described as 'blood shade'."
  
  "And is it true?"
  
  The red eye had an eerie colour any time he looked at it, but this time it seemed it was a mirror for these living quarters.
  
  The son of Poseidon shrugged.
  
  "I must admit my ignorance on the matter. I've never met an Erymanthian Boar before today."
  
  The blonde-haired Demigod didn't know if his poor head was to be relieved or afraid to hear that.
  
  Relieved. It had to be a relief that even with his insane adventures, there were things even the children of the Big Three didn't meet, right?
  
  "Wait a minute. An? Not the Erymanthian Boar? I thought they were unique monsters!"
  
  "They were unique monsters, my bard lieutenant. When Grant's father dealt with them the first time."
  
  "Oh, by the Gods," he moaned, "they bred."
  
  "Plenty of them were already breeding long before a certain son of the Master of Olympus was born, my friend. The Stymphalian Birds, the Mares of Diomedes and several others were hardly singular monsters."
  
  His expression must have been especially filled with despair, because Jackson decided to tone down a bit the bad news.
  
  "They are not common monsters, of course. I mean, except the lesser breeds of Hydra which spread everywhere, but the Lernaean itself is extremely rare. Commodus himself certainly had to search for decades before having the opportunity to find a Nemean Lion, defeat him, and claim its skin for himself."
  
  "He didn't gain any points with the Huntresses by wearing it."
  
  "He lost plenty of it, you mean. The servants of the Goddess of the Hunt loathe Hercules, and now they have diverted part of the hatred towards him."
  
  One could hear the shouts of some of these servants a few metres away.
  
  "I suppose I better go and see what angered them," the child of the Earthshaker grinned.
  
  "Probably the same lack of taste this bedroom suffers from?"
  
  "Or a private quarters dedicated to Commodus himself, with statues of the Roman Emperor in the bathroom killing sea monsters?"
  
  The black-haired son of Poseidon snickered.
  
  "Now that you have said it, it certainly sounds like something our host would do."
  
  "I'm so glad to hear you say it."
  
  "Yes, yes. Do you take it?"
  
  "What?"
  
  Jackson inclined his head with a mocking expression.
  
  "The bedroom? Do you want it or not?"
  
  "Oh...yes, yes, I take it. It isn't like the decoration will be better elsewhere, really."
  
  "Good. Now I think the touristic tour of the Ludus has consumed enough time; we have to descend to the refectory. Unpacking will have to wait after dinner."
  
  "I hear and I obey," the son of Apollo said dramatically, giving a last glance of disgust before leaving and shutting the door.
  
  Seriously, Commodus? Everyone knew you wanted to usurp Hercules now, but this was no reason to throw your awful artistic tastes in everyone's face!
  
  "I'm a bit reassured to be honest."
  
  "I'm sure you are, my drunken lieutenant, but about what?"
  
  "Given how obsessed Commodus is about the Twelve Labours, I almost expected him to serve us some Hydra meat at dinner."
  
  This was a good one, and Perseus wasn't the only one to laugh.
  
  "It is true his obsession has grown a bit out of control."
  
  "A bit?" Clarisse snarked. "Jackson, he's barking, raving mad! And he was already a narcissist and a psycho before he was killed the first time."
  
  "He is." The former Tyrant acknowledged. All Tyrants were eccentric, it came with the job, but Commodus was truly an excellent example why incompetence and absolute power should never be tolerated together. "I'm really not surprised everyone was trying to assassinate him by the end of his Caesar reign."
  
  And without the blessings of Apollo, the conspirators would have succeeded far earlier, but that was something to debate another day when they weren't so many witnesses around.
  
  "That said," the leader of the Suicide Squad continued, "don't forget that while Commodus is impatient and a prime narcissist, he is not devoid of some sort of cunning. When he descended to fight in the arena as a gladiator, the games were rigged in advance one way or another. And this was in general with a very limited amount of time. Here, he was easily granted weeks, maybe months, to make his plans."
  
  "You don't think it was prepared in the last month or so, then," Luke said as he watched Asterius empty another massive plate in record time.
  
  "My heroic lieutenant, have you seen the size of this Coliseum? Even in the era we live into and supported by modern machinery, you do not build something the size of a giant stadium in mere weeks, and this gladiator island is way bigger than a giant football stadium. This doesn't account for all the machinery underneath it to make the Games possible, naturally. No, Commodus may have seized the opportunity presented to him a platinum tray by others, but the construction of everything must have begun before the Master Bolt was stolen."
  
  "Charming," Bianca di Angelo replied in an unsurprised voice. "What do you think are our chances?"
  
  "It is difficult to say for now when there is so much we don't know about our host's ambitious plans." Perseus said truthfully. "I should have a better idea after the first day and three Labours."
  
  "Assuming we're still alive after them," Leo muttered.
  
  "Assuming that, yes, and speaking of which," he smiled, and the son of Hephaestus looked very afraid, "we have to train you to make sure you don't try to burn us along with the Enemy, Amigo."
  
  "You were just telling us tomorrow will be a resting day!"
  
  "I promise I will only test you for two hours, and we will begin very late in the morning or very early in the afternoon. Satisfied, Amigo?"
  
  "No."
  
  "Too bad," but he wasn't going to send an uncontrollable pyrokinesist in the arena with others. Valdez had to have some control, or he would stay on the sidelines for the Adjudicator Challenge. "And for the love of the Gods, don't try to get out of the Ludus while I'm sleeping. The guards are vigilant, there is an advanced magical detection system monitoring our moves, and I don't want to spend my time tomorrow convincing the Germani Praetorians that your head need to remain attached to its shoulders."
  
  And on this, everyone began to leave the refectory. It had been a long day, and it had begun with a storm and several sea monster attacks; the weakest members of the Suicide Squad were looking dead on their feet.
  
  If they survived this last adventure and some really wanted to stay as part of the Suicide Squad, they really would have to step up their training.
  
  Anyway.
  
  Perseus returned to the first floor, where his bedroom awaited.
  
  And yes, the decoration was really sub-par.
  
  The 'Bedroom of Lernaean Hydra' would not have been his first choice in normal times, with all its dark green and tarnished silver, plus the scales...but it wasn't normal times, and the rest of the bedrooms on the first floor were anything, worse. The one with the Nemean Lion theme was shiny gold from the toilet to the pillows, and he would never enter it unless his life was at stake.
  
  That the Nemean Lion was the animal Commodus had chosen as a symbol was another good reason to avoid it. If the penguins wanted to claim it themselves, then it solved the problem too.
  
  That was when he realised that while his bag had not been unpacked, the wardrobe was already filled with clothes. Feminine clothes.
  
  Clearly, someone had claimed the room while he was away speaking with Michael.
  
  "This is a room for two, right?"
  
  The door shut down behind him, and there was the familiar sensation of a magical lock being activated.
  
  "It is. Our host left it to us to decide, in the end."
  
  Perseus turned to look at Lou Ellen. The daughter of Hecate was smiling predatorily, and though the former Tyrant of Helike had never found himself in this kind of situation in a previous life, he wasn't stupid enough to not recognise the signs.
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  "If we win this Challenge, I will likely be away to learn magic on my half-sister's island for a long period of time. If we lose, we will die. Yes, I am sure."
  
  "There is still a problem," for once, his legs felt uncomfortably weak. This was really not a situation he was used to, though he would never admit it in public.
  
  "If it's about contraception, don't worry, my half-sister anticipated that. Magical seals are perfect for Demigods."
  
  And then the blonde sorceress slowly let her black robe drop to the floor, revealing she wore nothing underneath.
  
  For once all rationality snapped in his brain, and the next thing he knew his lips were on her lips, and his tongue was intertwined with her tongue.
  
  Then the storm of passion struck and engulfed them as everything was passion and pleasure.
  
  19 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  When they entered the refectory to take their breakfast, Bianca smiled.
  
  It must be said that Lou Ellen Blackstone was walking in a very funny manner this morning.
  
  It was almost hidden for someone who didn't know her, courtesy of walking hand-in-hand with Perseus Jackson, but the former Dread Empress had known what to look for.
  
  It must also be said that the green dress was far less daring the black seductive robe of yesterday. It had long sleeves, a high collar, and was conservative, which was good to hide any...physical indiscretions.
  
  The evidence of the 'guilt' was significant. But she had learned patience.
  
  Bianca as a result waited for them to begin to drink their fruit juice of the morning before speaking in an idle tone.
  
  "You know, if you wanted to enjoy yourselves so much, the bedrooms have a magical 'private mode' you can activate when you want." The daughter of Hecate coughed violently, barely managing to not spit everything out. Jackson took it far more calmly and serenely, unfortunately. But the blush of his lover more than compensated for it.
  
  "Damn it, Lightning Thief! You did it on purpose!"
  
  "Absolutely," the daughter of Hades shamelessly admitted. "Consider it retribution for the fact I had to cast a Sound-Dampening Enchantment on your room one hour after you began. You know, when it became clear you weren't going to stop anytime soon."
  
  The blonde Demigoddess turned into an interesting shade of red.
  
  "I forgot, and I have a feeling-"
  
  "Was it good?" Drew Tanaka interrupted her with all the subtlety of an elephant charging into a porcelain shop.
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite was thrown a few disapproving looks, which were all ignored with the haughtiness one could expect from the lineage of Love.
  
  "Yes," Lou Ellen replied. "It was wonderful."
  
  "Good! Now did you try the positions-"
  
  The next seconds saw half of the Suicide Squad blush like tomatoes and try very hard to pretend they weren't listening to.
  
  And the expressions on the Huntresses' faces were things to behold.
  
  "Drew, enough," the Lightning Thief managed to utter after a couple of minutes. "It's their private love life-"
  
  "You didn't say the same thing last night when listening to your fellow sorceress' screams of pleasure."
  
  There were days when you regretted the fact you couldn't crucify someone. When she was Triumphant, this insolence was not tolerated!
  
  Alas, Drew was the Champion of Persephone, and untouchable unless she wanted to reignite the feud with one of the Queens of Hell.
  
  "I might have laughed a bit." In fact, she had done more than that, but she was not going to say it aloud before such a large audience. "Now that the horizontal dancing of our love birds has been mentioned, we are going to have to check the training of everyone."
  
  "Go ahead," Perseus encouraged her as he began to devour jam, eggs, yoghurt, and plenty of other things placed within striking range of his mouth. "I will join you in ten minutes. And since Leo was complaining about training with me this morning, I think he will be more than happy to have you as his instructor."
  
  No, he wouldn't, the son of Hephaestus was terrified of her...but Bianca wasn't going to object the decision.
  
  "And the others?"
  
  "Check the Huntresses' abilities with their long daggers. I would love to believe the arena will authorise long-distance projectile bombardment, but it's most likely it won't. And we have-"
  
  Martial horns began to clamour in the distance.
  
  War horns echoed against the walls of the Ludus, and soon they were joined by quantities of other musical tunes, some coming from trumpets and other brass instruments.
  
  It was loud.
  
  It was absolutely murder on her ears.
  
  It definitely felt like the lack of taste of Commodus applied not only to decoration, but to music too.
  
  "What now?" Richard Grant asked with a grim expression.
  
  "I could be wrong," Perseus winced, "but it seems our 'reinforcements' have arrived."
  
  Though many of her memories were fragmented, Hera remembered enough to know she was an expert in discourtesy and humiliations.
  
  Mainly because Zeus had been busy doing everything possible to ensure their marriage was worth as much as a single counterfeit Drachma, given how often he ended in mortal women's bed.
  
  But the former Goddess of Marriage had to admit, neither her husband nor any Olympian had ever shown their lack of respect to anyone by eating a sandwich and masticating loudly.
  
  "Are they allowed to do that?" the Emperor Penguin to her left asked in a voice filled with admiration.
  
  "It's Jackson," she whispered back. "You can bet he has read integrally the rules of all Adjudicator Challenges just to be sure he can show his disrespect like this."
  
  And the worst part was that Hera was sure he had an already-made excuse. Indeed, they had disturbed him during his breakfast, no?
  
  That breakfast was generally served two hours earlier and Jackson had been late because of his...nightly activities wouldn't matter.
  
  "The sorceress is smirking a lot wherever you look in her direction."
  
  "I know," Hera grumbled, wishing a certain penguin stopped talking. How was the comical fin duo still alive with these big beaks, by the way?
  
  At the moment, the Queen of Seasons was definitely trying to think about something else. It was already unfair that her previous marriage had been a sham, but what was it recently about everyone suddenly having nights of passion when she had been denied them for so long?
  
  Zeus. It was Zeus' fault.
  
  Yes, everything should be blamed on Zeus.
  
  "Lord Captain of Team Adjudicator?"
  
  The poor Praetorian was visibly stunned by Perseus Jackson's audacity. His troops were in parade formation. Everything was ready for the arrival of the 'reinforcements'.
  
  And the son of Poseidon never stopped eating his huge sandwich.
  
  "Go ahead," the infuriating Demigod grinned after he swallowed what he had in his mouth. "Don't let my breakfast stop you."
  
  "Yes...ahem...this is...never mind, Lord Captain." The Germani had certainly been prepared somewhat before their arrival, but whatever training they had been put through, it was absolutely insufficient when it came to Perseus Jackson.
  
  "Presenting to you, some of the proud allies you are going to fight next to in the arena, Team Adjudicator!"
  
  No one laughed when the first cages were moved into the Ludus.
  
  The small metal prisons were moved by automatons of bronze shaped to imitate some Spartans of Antiquity, but this wasn't what attracted the attention.
  
  No, that 'honour' was given to what was inside the cages.
  
  "Err..." the penguin lamentably commented in surprise, "they aren't monsters? I would have expected them, not men."
  
  "They are monsters," Hera frostily corrected. "Monsters hiding behind human faces and skins."
  
  There was much Hera didn't remember of her divine life. Her current body couldn't handle the power and the memories, she guessed. But she didn't need most of that to recognise the people in the cages for what they were, despite having never seen these specific prisoners before.
  
  "What?"
  
  "These are the war dogs of my son. Or is it war boars? I sometimes forget how we are supposed to call these degenerate butchers."
  
  "You mean-"
  
  "Yes, there are mercenaries in the employ of the God of War."
  
  You knew it just by looking at them. The cruelty in their eyes, the raw aura of violence their body was soaked into. Many of them could have been considered good-looking despite the scars otherwise. As it was, Hera wanted to do nothing but remove their eyes every time they looked at her.
  
  "I was promised fifty members as reinforcements," the leader of the Suicide Squad was giving Alaric a stone-cold expression, which spoke volumes of how little he 'appreciated' the 'reinforcements'. "Yet I see only thirty-three cages and men."
  
  "The Mighty Imperator Neo Hercules apologises, but the transport moving the rest of your reinforcements had a little incident. Nothing that will be problematic for the Games of tomorrow, my Divine Lord assures you! It has just caused a few hours of delay."
  
  "I see."
  
  Apparently, the Praetorians of the Narcissist One could notice Jackson was not in a good mood.
  
  "Err...the men in front of you have all sworn to participate in the Games. They have been captured in the Middle East and various battlefields of Africa."
  
  Where they were undoubtedly busy looting, pillaging, and waging wars in the most brutal ways possible, now that Ares was unable to oversee their actions.
  
  Assuming, of course, they hadn't begun the atrocities before Ares was defeated by Tethys.
  
  "They are all eager to defend the cause of Team Adjudicator, so that their divine patron will be freed at the end of the games!"
  
  Perseus stared silently back...for good reason. Yes, as far as lies went, this was not a subtle one.
  
  "Should I open the cages?"
  
  "Absolutely not," Perseus replied immediately to her relief.
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Suddenly, thirty-three mouths which had waited patiently began to pour insults and vulgar comments.
  
  Some of them were rather crude. A few were in languages Hera wasn't speaking. And plenty of them she could understand, and her worst apprehensions were very much justified.
  
  "Silence. Kiss the ground at your feet."
  
  The earth felt like it was shaking, and the sun seemed to lose in radiance.
  
  Thirty-three of the most dangerous mercenaries Ares had taken in his service shut down their ugly mouths, prostrated themselves, and kissed the ground.
  
  Many Praetorians of Commodus were terrified by the display of power.
  
  Well, it looked like the briefing on Jackson's abilities had been far from complete, or they hadn't listened to it in the first place.
  
  One tried to clear his throat nonetheless.
  
  "They are-"
  
  "I know who they are." The son of Poseidon interrupted him. "This one is the Colonel Ross, son of Deimos. Wanted for countless war crimes in at least two dozen countries, and plenty of Olympians have put several large rewards for his elimination."
  
  The Earthshaker's child let the War-sworn mercenaries prostrated for long seconds before releasing his power.
  
  "A third Gallowborne Division?" Ethan Nakamura sighed.
  
  "Don't be ridiculous." Jackson answered tersely. "The Gallowborne units are all about redemption. I see nothing there worthy of it. Yes, 'Colonel'?"
  
  "We were promised our liberty," the man who had to be the 'Colonel Ross' mentioned earlier growled. By Olympus, this was quite a nasty monster. His face and most of his body were covered in scars - as he had been authorised to wear only a cloak and a loincloth, you could see a lot - and his bloodthirsty eyes raised plenty of alarms in her head. "We fight in the arena and we will win for you. That was the deal."
  
  "You will win your liberty, don't worry. But I want to sleep soundly at night, and it is not that I don't trust you...just joking." A cold grin showed up. "I absolutely don't trust you, bloody swords of the War God."
  
  This time, none of the thirty-three mercenaries were stupid enough to talk back.
  
  "If you behave yourselves, tomorrow morning, you will be left out and given a shower, and the opportunity to choose your equipment and some of your favourite weapons. Fulfil the terms of your contract without trouble, and I will be generous. Try to betray me, and I assure you that you will beg to die in the arena rather than face what I have in mind as a punishment. Am I clear?"
  
  There were some grunts, nods, and bitter words of approval.
  
  Nobody in the Suicide Squad was idiotic enough to believe the thirty-three mercenaries were on their side.
  
  Commodus had very much thrown at them 'reinforcements' that were going to be potentially bigger problems than the enemies of the 'Labours'.
  
  "Bianca, I'm told you have experience in handling significant numbers of prisoners."
  
  "Can't I save the time and crucify them here and now?"
  
  Plenty of Ares' servants waited for the joke to land. They would wait for a long time.
  
  "Unfortunately, there is to be no lethal violence in the Ludus, I'm afraid. Don't worry, the Challenge begins tomorrow."
  
  The red eyes turned towards the sweating Germani Praetorian.
  
  "Anything else?"
  
  "The Mighty Neo Hercules is graciously inviting you to an audience with the Captain of Team triumvirate this evening."
  
  "Assure your Lord Felix that I will be there."
  
  And Jackson resumed eating his sandwich.
  
  "Higher! You want your shield to protect your head, not your feet! Higher!"
  
  Leo tried. He really did.
  
  But it wasn't enough, the sword came and-
  
  He conjured a fire ball. Unfortunately, it missed completely and the next second, he was disarmed.
  
  "That was instructive." Jackson removed his sword after leaving it for a second against his throat.
  
  "Shouldn't you give him a hammer like mine?" The black-haired son of Nemesis proposed. "When I allowed him to wield mine for a few exchanges, he fought far better."
  
  "It's the symbol of his father, naturally it gives him a boost." Perseus snorted, as Leo stood and tried to not complain about how much his muscles were aching. "But if he doesn't know the basics-"
  
  "I am immune to fire, no?"
  
  Leo knew instantly it had been a mistake to interrupt, oh yes.
  
  "First of all, Amigo, everyone knows Magma beats Fire." Everyone knew that? Really? "So I would rather say you're immune to all fires that aren't stronger than yours, which isn't the same thing as 'complete fire immunity'. Then there's the little fact that immune to flames or not, plenty of opponents have claws, swords, fangs and other weapons that aren't made of fire. If you are hurt by them, I assure you that you will feel it, painfully."
  
  And the son of Poseidon sheathed back his sword.
  
  "But as my treacherous lieutenant said accurately, you fight far better in several circumstances. And we happen to lack time to forge you into a capable fighter. Thus I must give an order I already feel I will regret: give Amigo a hammer and a shield."
  
  "Err...thanks?"
  
  The incredibly powerful Demigod looked at him with amusement.
  
  "I just hope I won't need to send you in the arena. You are not ready."
  
  That was good, because Leo knew he wasn't ready.
  
  He was the engineer, not a gladiator!
  
  "But for the love of the Gods, raise your shield higher. Your flames can do a lot of damage to someone who underestimates you, but you have to think of defence, Amigo. If you don't, someone is going to separate your head from your shoulders within ten seconds of a duel beginning, and I assure you that the Heart of the Forge is useless in these circumstances."
  
  "I will try my best." He promised.
  
  "Good! Now Ethan, please call Jade, I want to see if fire is stronger than ice."
  
  "This training area is way too small to test something like that!" Luke Castellan protested, from the position where he was speaking with two Telekhine smiths.
  
  "No, it's perfect for-"
  
  The trumpets and the brass instruments, thankfully, played the awful music once again.
  
  Saved!
  
  "It seems the basic training preparations must be interrupted for an interlude," Jackson grinned. "A pity lunch was several hours ago, or I would find another sandwich."
  
  "You're having way too much fun tormenting the Praetorians of Commodus." Michael Yew accused him. At least the son of Apollo now remembered to don clothes in the last days.
  
  "Let's see the positive side of the situation: if they had something valuable to reveal to stop my actions, they would. Conclusion: they really know nothing of importance."
  
  "Okay..."
  
  "I believe I saw the automatons once again. And the music is awful, but it may be to cover the ruckus of the cages."
  
  "Splendid," Elvis Knight grimaced. "More butcher-boys of the War God?"
  
  "No," Annabeth Chase shook her head, forming up a line with the Minotaur on her left and Leo on her right. "If these were more War-sworn mercenaries, Commodus would have sent them with the other thirty-three criminals."
  
  Leo knew better to ask now what could be worse than the evil killers of Ares. The Sea of Monsters had showed them that it could already get worse.
  
  One by one, the fifty Demigods and monsters of Team Adjudicator formed up in three uneven lines, with Perseus Jackson and Lou Ellen Blackstone in front of them.
  
  The Praetorians strolled in like it was a military parade, again.
  
  Leo didn't know why they bothered. Training for that to perfection meant you didn't forge tools or train for something else.
  
  And it wasn't like the Suicide Squad officers were impressed.
  
  Many Demigoddesses like Drew and Miranda were snickering. Anne Bonny was disparaging their helmets, saying they should have gone for proper hats. Asterius the Minotaur was glaring at a few of them threateningly. Bianca di Angelo was conjuring black glyphs that the parading Praetorians tried to stay far away from, choreography be damned.
  
  The amusement abruptly ended when the first cage came into view.
  
  When this morning they had seen the first War-sworn mercenaries, it had been difficult to guess who exactly they were looking at.
  
  This time, there was no such trouble.
  
  Though she had been disarmed from her miniature arsenal of weapons, the ranger-of-the-woods clothes were in good condition, and everyone was familiar with the man-hating glare.
  
  This was a Huntress of Artemis in the cage.
  
  Leo heard Perseus groan loudly.
  
  "Sometimes, I really hate myself for being right."
  
  There was a tiny possibility it was an anomaly, or so the son of Hephaestus tried to convince himself.
  
  It ended when the other cages appeared, and other Huntresses were prisoner inside.
  
  "How by the Pit did they manage to take so many of them as prisoners?" He heard the daughter of Athena mutter angrily.
  
  "The rest of your reinforcements, Lord Captain of Team Adjudicator," Alaric informed the son of Poseidon when all the cages were in place. "Like the men of this morning, I can assure you that all of them have agreed voluntarily to participate in the Games of their own free will."
  
  "Your master has a gift to find very dangerous gladiators."
  
  The Praetorian chose - wisely, in Leo's opinion - to not answer this comment.
  
  "Do you want to leave them in their cages?"
  
  The mad Demigod chuckled.
  
  "I have to admit I'm tempted."
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  The shouts had come not just from the seventeen cages, but also from Ellen, Jenna, and Kimiko.
  
  "But I suppose that as amusing as it will be, the political issues don't make it worth it." The son of Poseidon grinned and was very close to delivering some maniacal cackling. "However, before releasing them, they will have to swear to drop all weapons in the armamentarium the moment they return from the challenges. I won't tolerate arrows being thrown right and left."
  
  "Why should we trust you, male?"
  
  The sheer hatred in the Huntress' voice almost convinced Leo to take a step back. Yeah, suddenly he was remembered how bad the Huntresses sent with them had been until the elimination of so many girls in the Drakonic battle convinced the survivors to tone down their anger.
  
  As for the Huntress herself, she had a rather early adult appearance, something around seventeen years-old? It was strange, the girls like Jade all looked younger as long as they were in the service of Artemis.
  
  Second weird point: the Huntress had silver hair. Was it because of the stuff of the Triumvirate and the Moon? Or was it-
  
  "No. Panther?"
  
  All noise abruptly stopped in the Ludus.
  
  Whatever had been supposed to happen, no one had foreseen it.
  
  For who had gambled one of their penguins would be the one to break the line and advance until he was in front of Jackson?
  
  "Boss," the saboteur penguin-extraordinaire pointed waved a fin. "The one you just insulted you happens to be named Panther. Panther Kowalski. She is my eldest sister. And a Huntress of Artemis."
  
  "My condolences," the Lord of the Suicide Squad of course had to say it.
  
  "Thank you, Boss."
  
  One cage shook. Maybe because there was a very angry Huntress inside?
  
  "You're lying. I have a pathetic and sorry excuse of a Legionnaire brother and he's not-"
  
  "You were already dying your hair at ten in the hope our parents would authorise you to join the Hunt," the penguin 'helpfully' revealed.
  
  There were a few seconds of silence.
  
  "Rico."
  
  There was a parody of military salute from the small penguin.
  
  "Panther."
  
  "Rico."
  
  "Panther."
  
  "RICO!"
  
  "May I advise keeping her in the cage, Boss? We've not always seen each other eye-to-eye, funny that, eh?"
  
  "RIIIIICCCOOOOOOOOOO!"
  
  Perseus Jackson turned his head towards them, and on his face was one of the most devilish smiles it was humanly possible to make.
  
  "My friends, forget the sandwich. I need popcorn! Tons of it! Now!"
  
  In the end, he only had the time to eat half a bag of popcorn before the tender reunion of brother and sister descended to a tolerable level of decibels.
  
  And it didn't take more than fifteen minutes for every male Demigod and Telekhine to regret having opened the cages.
  
  Perseus couldn't say he was surprised by the latter point. Unlike the existence of Panther Kowalski. The former existence had genuinely been unaware Rico had a sister, and one who joined the Hunt to boot. But the son of Poseidon could understand why the subject had never come up. This wasn't something you boasted about when there were servants of Artemis nearby.
  
  Anyway, now that Suicide and Huntresses looked like they were able to stand in each other's presence without someone - of the Huntresses, of course - taking it as a provocation and trying to begin a battle, it was time to speak of a very thorny issue.
  
  "My friends, we have a problem and plenty of complications. Lend me your ears."
  
  "And you love that." Jenna muttered.
  
  "You wound me terribly." He gasped theatrically. "But no. Given the choice, I prefer to make the life of my enemies complicated. Anyway. We have a problem."
  
  "We have one too," the silver-haired Panther Kowalski bit back. "You are in command of this operation, which is-"
  
  "If you think I am going to let a Huntress de facto take command of Team Adjudicator, dear feline female lieutenant, you clearly have missed a few chapters of this Quest."
  
  "You are a male."
  
  "I win. I also end up producing results. By my actions, the Master Bolt was recovered. Thanks to my stratagems, the Golden Fleece was taken back. With a force assembled my tireless efforts, the God of the Forges was freed from the Titaness' captivity."
  
  Most of the seventeen Huntresses looked like they wanted to object, but couldn't. As the old saying went, victory excused a multitude of sins.
  
  "Now that this point has been mentioned, we have indeed a problem. I now have the certainty Commodus is readying a weapon to use against your Goddess."
  
  "Continue," Kimiko spoke.
  
  "The arrival of our reinforcements was the last clue I needed." Perseus shrugged. "If the myths are true, the Lady of the Hunt asked her father for twenty Nymphs who would end up being known as the first Huntresses."
  
  There had been sixty daughters of Oceanus too, but those could be safely discarded; they were for the safekeeping of Artemis' temples and other duties.
  
  "I believe Commodus intends to cast a ritual which will cause great harm to the Guardian of the Moon. The symbol is strong, and the precise number at this very moment ensures it can't be a coincidence."
  
  Panther Kowalski laughed in his face. Perseus wished he could say he was surprised.
  
  "Nice try, male, but this can't happen."
  
  "Really?"
  
  The silver-haired Huntress scowled.
  
  "To begin with, the counting fails. Even disregarding the traitor," her eyes were the definition of contempt itself when they glanced at Jade, "we are not twenty, we are twenty-one. To my seventeen Huntresses, I add Ellen, Jenna, Kimiko and Iphigenia."
  
  "Iphigenia doesn't count," Perseus replied. "No matter how many vestiges of her allegiance remain, she has been touched by the Dreaming One, and this is drowning everything else. Commodus has many flaws, but he will never be that stupid. No one will try to cast a dangerous ritual with Iphigenia involved in it. This would just be a very painful form of suicide, and that's if the caster is lucky."
  
  Yes, he had thought of it plenty of times in the last hour.
  
  "And as further proof this is what he intends, I humbly guess that your group wasn't seventeen-strong when you were ambushed."
  
  "There are two teams on this island! Our sisters must be prisoner in the other Ludus!"
  
  No, they certainly weren't. Commodus was many things, but he wouldn't let any Huntress fall into Team Triumvirate's custody. Not if the traces indicating the presence of an Immortal Sorceress were confirmed.
  
  "How many?"
  
  Panther Kowalski had no choice but to grimace and move on.
  
  "We were a bit above forty when this old trap of the Orion's days triggered and many of us collapsed before being able to shoot a single arrow."
  
  This smelled like the Sire of the Drakons had given away their position to Commodus. There could be other explanations, however. Perseus didn't know exactly the identities of everyone backing this narcissist of Emperor, after all.
  
  "Our Goddess remains too strong for this male to have a chance."
  
  "Thus the indirect attack," the former Tyrant noted. "You're the companions of the Goddess, her favourites, and her handmaidens. She gave you a tiny amount of power when you each swore your vows. You're the ideal avenue of attack for someone impatient and operating in a disadvantageous rapport of strength."
  
  "What is he going to do, then?"
  
  "I don't know," Perseus honestly admitted. "Your presence is just the confirmation I needed to know the Goddess of the Hunt is one of his targets."
  
  "Then you're useless!" The older Huntress spat.
  
  Note to self: the brainwashing of the servants of Artemis was extremely effective. Panther Kowalski was a young Huntress - Rico was hardly an immortal penguin - and yet she spoke like half of humanity deserved to die at her feet.
  
  For the sake of Rico if no one else, Perseus hoped this silver-haired Huntress was going to stop being such a man-hating killer before it was too late. Otherwise she was going to end dead exactly as fast as Phoebe and the others, or worse.
  
  "I propose another course of action. We kill the guards, storm out of this island, and put an end to these ridiculous 'Labours' before they started!"
  
  Oh great, the Huntresses had decided to be stupid.
  
  "You can't." He pleasantly told them. "You swore a vow to participate in the Adjudicator Challenge, remember?"
  
  "We didn't swear it on the Hell River!"
  
  Perseus chuckled hearing this spectacular amount of naivety.
  
  "Commodus didn't force you to swear on it because there was no need to. The moment you agreed, the magic of the Challenge binds you, and it is backed by the High Judge, meaning Commodus himself, but also the Domain of War, the two newly created Domains of Love, the Domain of Smiths, Fire and the Forge, and via them, all the power of Olympus and the Triumvirate."
  
  It was really funny how certain Huntresses gaped. Yes, they now could fully understand the sheer magnitude of their mistake. Much like the mercenaries of Ares, they had thought they could make a promise and promptly back off the second they saw an opportunity to escape.
  
  Alas for them, it didn't work like that.
  
  "It doesn't matter if the Adjudicator Challenge hasn't officially opened." Perseus said aloud to avoid other people of his Team having idiotic ideas. "Trying to flee and outright refusal to participate does count as a forfeit, leaving the High Judge an enormous amount of power to punish the oath-breakers. In many ways, doing what you propose is as bad as someone trying to climb out of the arena or somehow trying to bail out of a 'Labour' before it has officially ended."
  
  "And what happens in these cases?" a younger-looking Huntress asked.
  
  "You're most likely going to end up cursed. The most probable outcomes are that you end up as an animal or some sort of monster. The Adjudicator Challenge will continue, and nobody, not even your Goddess, will be able to change you back, because the Curse will be ultimately a team effort."
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "I may be wasting my saliva and my time, but please, if you think doing something stupid is the solution, talk me about it before jumping. In all likelihood, it's stupid, and it's going to end in tragedy, but that way I will be there to stop you before you commit something you will regret for the rest of your life."
  
  Perseus didn't need to be a genius to know the Huntresses were not listening to him. Not truly. Not the seventeen that had been brought as 'reinforcements'.
  
  Yes, Commodus had played a master-stroke here. If the servants of Artemis had been here all along, ties could have been forged, and some rational relationship created.
  
  But here out of the twenty, seventeen had never met him before, and it was virtually certain Artemis had thoroughly poisoned the well by presenting a truly hostile version of events about this Quest in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Never mind that the Huntresses were supposed to be their executioners if they faltered.
  
  No, it was too late to salvage something.
  
  They were going to have to go blind in the arena, and pray that the next days were going to afford opportunities to recover.
  
  "Jackson?" Ethan Nakamura drawled. "There are Praetorians in the courtyards. They mentioned something about an Imperial Divine Audience, or something else."
  
  "Tell them I am on my way." The complications were really coming in impressive numbers today. "Asterius."
  
  "Yes, short one?"
  
  What was it about everyone trying to shoot him literally or metaphorically today? You lost your virginity, and suddenly everyone seems way too pleased to mock you!
  
  "You are coming with Lou Ellen and I to this audience. We need a dangerous bodyguard to make the Germani Praetorians afraid."
  
  "Yes, short one!" The Minotaur was suddenly far more enthusiastic, for some mysterious reason. Curious, no?
  
  "This discussion isn't over, Jackson!" Panther Kowalski barked.
  
  "It is, because believe me, the next one promises to be worse." Perseus wasn't sure of many things, but a meeting with Commodus? It was sure to generate plenty of bad news.
  
  19 January 2007, Commodianopolis' Command Room, the depths of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  Commodus was definitely a megalomaniac.
  
  Lou Ellen didn't think there were many peoples who would contest it if they had all the evidence in front of their eyes.
  
  Unfortunately, like many past Roman Emperors, he was megalomaniac and paranoiac.
  
  The tunnels under the Coliseum they were led into formed a massive maze, and though there was little magic registering to her senses, there was an astounding quantity of dangerous weaponry, both of the conventional and unconventional kind.
  
  Several Demigods had wondered where the true army of Commodus was, since the numbers of Praetorians and other defenders appeared too low.
  
  Well, they were here.
  
  They were hidden in the depths of the Coliseum, protecting the only thing Commodus truly valued: his own life.
  
  With all the heavily armoured doors, the monsters and the automatons, it would take an immensely gifted assassin to get close to Commodus.
  
  The progression ended with a lift propelling them deeper into the foundations, and at last, they were introduced into the inner sanctum of the High Judge.
  
  Nearly to the same second, a second lift similar to theirs opened, and Mark Antony marched out, her half-sister Medea by his side, and their trio was completed by a hugely muscular Legionnaire playing the same role as Asterius did for their trio.
  
  They merely glanced at each other, before refocusing on the throne room and its owner.
  
  Quite ironically, the place was of far better taste than the Ludus and everything on the island above their heads.
  
  There were two symmetrical fountains, some plants, and quite a few mosaics. Yes, they represented the Twelve Labours, but for them not to would have been too much to ask.
  
  There were plenty of armchairs, couches, and comfortable furniture, coming in red and gold colours.
  
  And at the end of it, Commodus was waiting, the hood of the Nemean Lion upon his head, his body appearing as if he had been painted in gold by the tight costume.
  
  His seat was more akin to a couch, sculpted to look like a sleeping lion.
  
  Interestingly, there was another platform next to his couch-seat, but the location was empty. This wasn't the only issue, of course. A room as large as this one should be able to receive two hundred visitors, yet there was no one but Commodus.
  
  The Praetorians had stayed inside the lift.
  
  The former Emperor of Rome was truly alone, and it wasn't an illusion.
  
  "Ah, the Captains and guests!" Commodus smiled, and this was not a charming expression. "The Referees are on their way for tomorrow, and thus I see no reason to delay anymore! All the spectators are ready and have their blood fully pumped up!"
  
  One could almost wonder if Commodus had known what destruction the Centaurs and other monsters would cause when he invited them. His excitement was genuine and almost childish...but Lou Ellen was almost sure that the answer was yes, thousands of people had been sacrificed just for Commodus' amusement.
  
  "And once the ceremony will end, the First Labour will begin immediately, I suppose?" Mark Antony asked in a deadly voice.
  
  "Exactly!" Commodus clapped his golden hands. "Though you will have to immediately choose who among your Teams will compete beforehand, of course. I may generously give you a clue or two, if you are polite."
  
  "Will those not participating be allowed to watch from the stands?" Perseus voiced the question before she could.
  
  "Regrettably, no," Commodus chuckled with a 'nice try' silent gesture. "The gladiators who don't participate will wait in the Team's waiting rooms under the Coliseum. You will miss nothing of the Labours, I assure you! We have excellent TV channels with journalists paid exorbitant sums to comment the event! But I thought it best to avoid temptations of gladiators suggesting or elaborating strategies for their weak-minded comrades."
  
  Yes, that sounded exactly like something her lover would do.
  
  And the Triumvirate representatives didn't exactly protest it was unfair, either.
  
  "Now then, the main rules. Whoever wins the greatest number of Labours, wins the Games, and to the winner goes the spoils. To compete, a Team has to keep its Captain alive and healthy enough to descend in the arena. The Team must also have one other member able to fulfil its duties of gladiator."
  
  By the magic of her mother, this was just insane. The teams were both one hundred-strong! Commodus wanted everything to continue up to the death of the last fighter!
  
  "The Games must not be interrupted by a few light wounds, in my opinion." One could really wonder how many gladiators Commodus had killed just in his first life, when he was Emperor.
  
  "That's clear," Medea spoke icily. "Is that all?"
  
  "No, of course not." Commodus smiled viciously. "We have to keep things interesting! And I had a superb idea to spice up the Labours! If one Captain descends in the arena, the other must follow!"
  
  Gods, the megalomaniac really wanted to see blood, didn't he?
  
  He had enforced a law which made sure both Teams would prioritise the survival of their Captain, and then he made sure both would be competing at the same time.
  
  "You mentioned we had to choose who would participate in the First Labour," Perseus took her right hand in his left, but aside from that, showed no emotion or reaction whatsoever. "Does it mean that we can't send reinforcements in the arena once a Labour is ongoing?"
  
  "You can send reinforcements," Commodus affably declared. "But it depends on the Labours you will struggle with. In some, you will be denied the possibility of sending reinforcements at all; in others, you will only be able to select additional gladiators if all the original ones are incapacitated or dead."
  
  This meant a single Labour could be a monumental slaughterhouse.
  
  "There may be Labours where I will decide if minimal or maximal numbers of gladiators must be committed for the glory of the Games. Evidently, it will depend on the performance of the gladiator themselves!"
  
  Why did it feel that Commodus controlled everything, playing with their lives from start to finish?
  
  "Naturally," the narcissist-megalomaniac Emperor continued, "we don't want a Labour to bore the public to death, so each time, there is a hard limit of three hours. At the end, after consultation with the two Referees, I will announce the Winning Team for this Labour. If no one completed it to my satisfaction, there will be no winner, and clearly the next gladiators will have to do far better next time!"
  
  Commodus laughed.
  
  No one else did.
  
  Trust her on this: be they of the Triumvirate or the Suicide Squad, they weren't smiling.
  
  "We accept these victory conditions," Mark Antony said. By his grim expression, the Roman was beginning to understand what a huge mistake it had been to give this authority to Commodus, who was abusing the hell of it. "I presume that no help from outside sources will be legal once a gladiator walks in the arena?"
  
  "You presume correctly, though there will be an exception," Commodus grinned, revealing a sort of...necklace? It had a bronze chain and a small golden symbol at the centre of it, anyway. "The Vote of the Public!"
  
  This had to be a hallucination, right?
  
  "The vote of what?"
  
  "Press the golden button three times, and your adoring public and my divine persona will vote to send you an item that may save the day!" Commodus exclaimed like it was his birthday come early. "It will depend on your popularity, of course. Displays of cowardice and ignoble treachery may end up souring the tempers, and instead of an unbreakable weapon, you may end up with rotten tomatoes and other useless things! Ha!"
  
  In other words, it was a joker that may end up as a burden. Or metaphorically speaking, it should be a rope to hang around their throats.
  
  "We might introduce other fun things in the next days, but for now, the Vote of the Public is the only help you will have as a gladiator!"
  
  Lou Ellen had a bad feeling, given how enthusiastic Commodus was about the whole thing.
  
  It was going to be a good idea to not use this kind of 'Joker' for as long as they could, lest they regret it very, very fast.
  
  "But we can enter your Coliseum with all the weapons and protections we want."
  
  "Marcus Antonius!" Commodus feigned to be shocked. "You stand in a Coliseum dedicated to Neo Hercules! Adequate weapons and armours are necessary!"
  
  And here came the execution axe...
  
  "The summum choragium and the armamentarium of your Ludi are going to be stocked up in a few minutes, naturally. You will be expected to use these resources; my Praetorians will control your armours and weapons before allowing you to pass the Gate leading to my arena."
  
  "And what kind of armours are we speaking about?" Medea insisted.
  
  "Why, for the men, the honourable and most remembered twelve types of gladiatorial standards imagined by our glorious Empire, of course! Provocator, Murmillo, Secutor, and the nine other armaturae of true gladiators; I leave everything up to you! Don't say I don't leave you plenty of choices!"
  
  Lou Ellen was not a specialist when it came to the gladiatorial fights, but she had a feeling it was going to end with a lot of half-naked Demigods and mercenaries in this arena.
  
  And they didn't know yet what the maniac had in mind for the women.
  
  She cleared her throat.
  
  "And the gladiators who happen to not be males?"
  
  "Why," Commodus began with a fake generosity that gave her the urge to kill him on the spot, "I am particularly merciful and feel traditions are necessary. All virgin warriors will be graciously allowed to don costumes of Ceryneian Hinds! And the non-virgins will be provided the choice between several other costumes perfectly attuned to the theme of the Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules!"
  
  The Huntresses were all going to be in a murderous mood, and Lou Ellen had a feeling she was going to feel the same once she had the opportunity to watch the costumes.
  
  By the Pit, the end of this Great Quest couldn't come fast enough!
  
  19 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Jade sighed.
  
  "I withdraw everything I ever said about your suits being indecent, Jackson."
  
  "Does it mean I can expect a promise there won't be any more complaints for several years?"
  
  The Champion of Khione snorted.
  
  "No."
  
  "Ah, well, it was worth trying," the massive grin told you clearly how 'disappointed' the insane Demigod was.
  
  The former Huntress returned to the examination of the indecent costume. Unfortunately, it didn't happen to change into something acceptable while her eyes were away.
  
  "What is the point of sending us something like that?"
  
  "Provocation," Perseus answered while resuming the drinking of a bottle of fruit juice.
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  "You heard me correctly, Jade. Bianca and Lou Ellen were honest; the only magics in this cloth are the ones who were involved in the creation process plus a single enchantment. It is not like an X-Suit where the purpose was to provide its wearer a phenomenal resistance against the cold and Cold-empowered Curses. This is not supposed to be some piece of conventional armour. This is a ridiculous costume that has no purpose but to anger the Huntresses we have in this Ludus."
  
  Jade grimaced.
  
  "If that was the true goal, then I must say it achieved it in a few minutes."
  
  Panther Kowalski and all the others had noticed the Hind costumes long before Perseus Jackson and Lou Ellen Blackstone returned from their audience with Commodus.
  
  Their reaction had been...bad.
  
  Thank the Gods, Bianca di Angelo, Miranda Gardiner and herself had been watching, and as a result nothing had burned. The Praetorians hadn't been assaulted. The Ludus was intact.
  
  "Yes."
  
  Jade looked again at the costume, trying not to sigh.
  
  As befit of something trying to imitate the Ceryneian Hinds of Artemis, it was something silvery in shade, but here ended the respectability.
  
  The material used was incredibly revealing, even compared to the X-Suits, which looked almost opaque in comparison.
  
  The silver cloth was near-transparent. And unlike the X-Suits, which were only to be donned in a battle where the frost iguanas and a Drakon would be the only spectators, here they were speaking of tens of thousands of spectators just on the island, with Olympus and many other deities watching.
  
  Yeah, it was far worse than any suit Jackson had ever handed to them. To start with, the son of Poseidon had never forbidden them to don more clothes over the X and S-Suits.
  
  Here Commodus had done so.
  
  "The other enchantment detected is the one which allows only virgins to don it, I suppose?"
  
  "You suppose correctly."
  
  It might not seem so bad saying it. Unfortunately, you had to look the costume in its totality. First, there were the golden antlers fixed to the 'hood' of the costume, which would in effect act like a doe mask once the wearer would push it against her face.
  
  After that, it got worse. There were plenty of holes which left everything above and between their breasts exposed. The hips were naked too. This rapidly turned the 'Hind-Suit' into something really indecent and obscene.
  
  It exposed a large portion of their legs. How much of the back's wearer was naked was best not thought about.
  
  And once you had considered this, there was the impractical aspect. The X-Suits had nice, practical boots, ideal to fight and run. The 'Hind-Suits' had parody of hooves to place your feet into, essentially making them high heels without support. That would allow a girl to fight thanks to the ingenious way it spread the weight of someone, but it certainly wouldn't be practical.
  
  It would be indecent, ridiculous, and impractical. Obviously.
  
  It would turn anyone who wore it into parodies of Ceryneian Hinds.
  
  "I hate Commodus." Jade voiced. "Gods, what a pervert!"
  
  "He is not a pervert, believe me." Jackson replied. "He is a predator."
  
  The former Huntress shivered, which was a rarity these days, since the cold didn't bother her anymore.
  
  "I really feel like using by bow at the end of this thing to kill a certain Emperor."
  
  "If it can make you feel better, I doubt you are among his targets."
  
  Jade raised an eyebrow.
  
  "I am still a virgin, Jackson," unlike Drew, Reyna, Hylla, and Lou Ellen, she had not lost her virginity.
  
  She almost regretted it now. That said, the feline costumes that had been presented to the non-virgins were not exactly good alternatives.
  
  "But you are a Champion of a completely different Goddess than the Hunt, and she also happens to be a Queen of Hell. The symbolism doesn't work, and besides, you're part of the House of the Underworld now. Therefore acting against you is tantamount to declaring war to Hell."
  
  "The same applies to Miranda and Drew, I take it."
  
  "Of course."
  
  That was mildly reassuring. Obviously, it didn't prevent them at all from getting killed in the arena, but with the Ice Drakon's power flooding through her veins, Jade was far tougher and able to heal from wounds that would have killed her when she was a Huntress.
  
  "There has to be an alternative, though. Surely the Emperor had to give one?"
  
  "There is one. I call it barbarian-style." Perseus didn't look very amused as he said it. He breathed out. "A loincloth and some sandals."
  
  Jade closed her eyes for several seconds, muttering over a dozen insults under her breath.
  
  "At this point, we might as well go naked, for all the good that it does."
  
  The child of the Earthshaker didn't answer. There was no need to.
  
  "Panther and the others are way too arrogant."
  
  "I know. And before you say it, yes, I am well aware they aren't going to listen to me in the arena under pressure. Whether I am personally present or no, they won't obey my commands."
  
  "But the Hind costumes-"
  
  "Forget the costumes," Perseus cut her words ruthlessly. "Seriously, forget them. Aside from some mild symbolism, the costumes don't really matter. They are a provocation, nothing more. It is a column of smoke to blind the Huntresses and plenty of women who will play the gladiator role. Commodus wants to act against an Olympian through her servants. If it is indeed his plan, he must force them to foreswear the Goddess at some point. And the greatest factor which convinced you to do so inside the Forge of All Perils is not present here."
  
  "Yes, the Olympians don't have the right to intervene in an Adjudicator Game; we all know it."
  
  And unlike oaths on the Styx, the Gods and Goddesses would definitely be heavily punished for their transgressions.
  
  "Commodus will strike soon, then?"
  
  Jackson winced.
  
  "That depends entirely how long the narcissist loves to play with his prey, I fear."
  
  20 January 2007, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Commodus had promised them the spectators would be 'pumped-up' for the Adjudicator Challenge.
  
  You had to give it to him, the Roman narcissist had respected his part of the deal.
  
  When they left the silence of the tunnel that had taken them directly from the Ludus to the Coliseum, it was like they were had been struck by a hundred sonic bombs.
  
  The ruckus was near-impossible to imagine.
  
  There was braying, shouting, hissing, and applause. There were more flashes than any human could count. There were pyrotechnic displays and electronic boards announcing countless advertisements.
  
  It was an assault on all their senses in light and noise.
  
  But what put you into alert was the smell.
  
  It was something easy to recognise.
  
  The smell of monsters, both the animal and the human kind. It was a smell present in quantities never encountered before.
  
  And it was felt for good reason.
  
  The Coliseum was beyond gigantic, easily one hundred thousand spectators, and it had been filled until there wasn't a single seat empty.
  
  For a monster chronicler, it was a living dream. Empousai cheered in frivolous clothes next to lesser Gorgons. Scythian Dracanae had purchased tickets to find themselves next to Hyperborean Giants.
  
  And obviously, there were Centaurs. A lot of Centaurs, the greatest crowd of murderous hooligans of the world, assembled in a single location. They easily filled a quarter of the stadium, with a large colony of Lamias on their right, and some very ugly Cyclops on their left.
  
  If Zeus used his Master Bolt here, there would be a neat decrease of the monstrous population for a few months, to be sure.
  
  The former Tyrant forced himself to stop thinking about it for now. As amusing as it would be, it had no chance of happening right now.
  
  "But first, there's of course the Opening Ceremony..."
  
  Perseus barely listened to the speech, to be honest. Commodus was praising the only person who mattered in his eyes: himself. All the while food and alcoholic drinks were thrown to the spectators and especially the drunk crowd of Centaurs.
  
  Panem et circenses; civilisation had hardly changed a lot in two thousand years. The big difference was by now, in addition to the public, millions more could watch the butchery on live TV.
  
  Like the gladiators of old, they were paraded for the pleasure of the crowd. As a result, one could accurately say the expressions of the Huntresses in his Team were mirrored by Team Triumvirate. Medea, Princess of Colchis and Immortal Sorceress, looked especially murderous for the affront that had been done to her; it wasn't every day she had to wear a Leopard-themed suit revealing all her curves, to be sure.
  
  Perseus was more interested by the composition of the rival Team, to be fair. Unfortunately, it was quite difficult to know which part had been chosen by Mark Antony, and which had been 'volunteered' by Commodus. There were plenty of mercenaries, that much was a given. Some felt like they had been chosen by the Roman Aspect of the God of War.
  
  But there were plenty of female warriors too, and a majority of them were in Ceryneian Hind's costumes. This...had not been anticipated. Perseus had assumed the Huntresses were the prime targets; why else would Commodus bother creating this trap? But there were way too many young warrior women here; he counted more than twenty-five before stopping.
  
  "A lot of child soldiers here," Lou Ellen commented behind him.
  
  "For this one, Commodus can't really be blamed. He wasn't the one who sent us on extremely dangerous Great Quests, no?"
  
  And he stopped at that for the critics; there was an enormous concentration of power in the upper levels of the Coliseum. The Olympians and other immortals couldn't intervene, but they had the possibility of watching, and many of them appeared to have accepted their invitations.
  
  "Perverts," he heard a Huntress seethe somewhere in his procession.
  
  Perseus admitted she had a point.
  
  While the noble Marcus Antonius had brought plenty of adult gladiators for the Adjudicator Challenge, there were plenty of underage competitors. And as Commodus had chosen to impose his ridiculous costumes, everyone showed a lot of flesh to the point it was incredibly indecent.
  
  As a Provocator himself, Perseus had been given a short gladius of Celestial Bronze, and a large oval shield. There was no pectoral, no other form of armours for his torso. He was bare-chested, and his back was completely exposed as well. Sandals and shin guards were for the legs. The helmet was for the head. To protect his modesty, there was a belt and some kind of super-loincloth.
  
  "Of the benefits to bathe in Drakonic blood or in the Styx," the black-haired Demigod whispered. Sure, you had one Achilles' heel that would cause your demise if you were hit there, but at least your opponent had to search for it. The rest of the gladiators were horribly vulnerable everywhere, and they didn't have anything to stop the blades and the other weapons aiming to end their lives.
  
  The musical cacophony exploded even more out of control as the Gods made their entrance.
  
  Isis marched out with dignity, in a simple lapis-lazuli robe. As he wasn't petty, Perseus had left her with some manacles to symbolise restraints.
  
  It was quite the opposite with Ares; the Triumvirate Team had to bind him with the heaviest chains they could, because the God of War was absolutely not cooperative.
  
  Well, at least it was quite a spectacle.
  
  Commodus could be counted to exploit the situation, and he did.
  
  As a consequence, it was no less than four elephants which dragged Ares in the arena, under the imprecations, vociferations, and insults of the monsters.
  
  Clearly, Ares had made quite a few enemies in the last millennia.
  
  There were flashes of light below the Emperor's Lodge, and Dionysus appeared, instantly throwing quantities of grapes into the crowd. The God of Wine had come dressed for drinking; he had a barrel and plenty of jars levitating behind him, and his hair were the colour of grapes.
  
  "Yo, Perseus!"
  
  This served an appropriate answer, of course.
  
  "Ave Dionysus! Those about to unleash the Circus salute you!"
  
  The crowd loved it, obviously.
  
  So did the red-skinned half-giant next to the Olympian.
  
  "Bring me, skulls, brother!"
  
  Perseus saluted again, as the two Teams began to form up in lines facing the outrageously decorated part of the Coliseum - naturally, it was where Commodus was waiting.
  
  "The two Captains have accepted the rules of the Games!" Commodus declared to his bloodthirsty public. "The Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules are about to begin! Does someone have something to say before the gladiators compete for a contest that will remembered for the next centuries?"
  
  "I do." The bloodlust levels skyrocketed. You had three choices to guess who had just spoken, and the first two didn't count.
  
  "Oh? Go ahead."
  
  "I would tear the head of this mongrel of Master Equites myself," Ares hissed, "but the rules prevent me from doing so. Yet my servants are not so limited, and I recognise many of you mustered on the sands of this arena!"
  
  The eyes alone made clear that no, being a God didn't prevent you from being a monster.
  
  "Carve his flesh, strangle him with his own entrails! Before this Challenge is over, I want to see Marcus Antonius dismembered corpse at my feet! Those who will accomplish this deed will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams! Gold, jewels, properties, women, I will make them Kings for removing this pest! And those who fought for him," Ares' grin was best found on the head of an apex predator. A very vicious apex predator. "They will be the first to suffer my wrath. I AM THE GOD OF WAR! BATHE IN HIS BLOOD!"
  
  It took several seconds for Commodus to clear his throat.
  
  The Roman High Judge wasn't looking shaken, but there was a hint of nervousness there.
  
  Yes, he had not expected that kind of...enthusiasm.
  
  Isis, on the other hand, clearly had. The sovereign contempt for the other God was evident to all. She threw a kiss to her husband, and the adoring look let the former Tyrant speculate that maybe, Mark Antony had been affected more by Lust and Love than he had accounted for.
  
  Yes, the two had a marriage bond, and Isis' husband was a mortal...this led to irrational decisions.
  
  "THEN LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"
  
  Cages of Law and Magic materialised around Ares and Isis, separating them completely from reality. Slowly, the two prisons began to levitate above the sands, and they gained altitude until reaching about twenty metres above their heads.
  
  "Now," all the cameras now focused on Commodus, who was grinning maliciously, "I am pleased to say I received a lot of suggestions for the First Labour."
  
  The screens and the magnification of the images ensured Commodus was impossible to miss on his 'Nemean Lion-themed' throne.
  
  He wore only the skin of the Nemean Lion, transformed to present him as a golden immortal.
  
  But for the first time, he wasn't alone. There was a throne next to him, one which had never been seen before. This throne was sculpted in a silver material, and artists had done their best to represent Hinds and woods upon its surface.
  
  The throne wasn't empty. There was a young woman upon it, and she was in one of the Ceryneian Hinds costumes. She was very young; she couldn't be possibly be older than sixteen. And Commodus groped her when the cameras came nearer. The young girl moaned.
  
  "You were right," Jade acknowledged. "A predator, indeed."
  
  "Unfortunately, we can't do anything about it for now," Ethan spoke, but his words were a promise that Commodus was now on the hit-list of the children of Nemesis.
  
  "Traditionally, when the Games opened," Commodus spoke again as the reactions of the monsters faded away, "the High Judge of the Games could ask for a trial, if he felt the gladiators may not be able to handle the opposition waiting for them. I propose to perpetuate this tradition! Team Adjudicator! Team Triumvirate! You have accepted to descend in the arena to face the greatest Labours I could think of! I acknowledge your bravery, and I give you this clue! Damnatio Ad Bestias!"
  
  It was not a tradition; it was a method of execution.
  
  Perseus' Latin needed some work, but the words just uttered could be best translated as 'condemnation to beasts'.
  
  It was entertainment for the spectators, yes. For the runaway slaves, the criminals, and the Christians sent to face the lions, felines, and other natural predators the Emperors unleashed, it was not exactly as funny for some reason.
  
  "I thus ask for twelve brave gladiators of each Team to stay in this arena!" Commodus raised his hand. "And may the best blades triumph!"
  
  Yes, it went without saying that the High Judge was not going to say which kind of beast they were going to face during the First Labour.
  
  Why wasn't he surprised?
  
  Thankfully, this was why he had a contingency for this.
  
  Perseus broke formation, and walked up to the man that only arduous negotiations had allowed to get out of Hades' realm.
  
  "It is time."
  
  "Yes." The man was hardly a great conversationalist. A pity, for there was so much to learn about him. But his services hadn't included monologues and battle-tales, alas. "Orders?"
  
  Perseus didn't hesitate.
  
  "Take eleven mercenaries of the God of War with you. Kill the twelve members of Team Triumvirate, and everything that stands in your way."
  
  Everyone wanted a bloodbath.
  
  Fine! Perseus had good news for them.
  
  They were going to watch one.
  
  20 January 2007, the Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, under the Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  The waiting room was huge, like everything in this God-forsaken Coliseum. It had dozens of TV screens in high-definition, a bar, a restaurant area, several fridges to serve cold drinks, and many, many chairs, couches and sofas of all kind.
  
  Dakota knew this for a good thing, because in a few seconds, the 'Team Adjudicator' divided itself in four big sub-groups. There was the Suicide Squad itself. The Telekhines were essentially the second group, and they were the only ones to stay close to Perseus Jackson, as he was their benefactor. The third was the Ares-sworn mercenaries. Those professional killers moved to the bar, and began to order a lot of drinks from the smiling personnel of Commodus.
  
  And then there was the fourth group, which happened to be the Huntresses. They stayed away from everyone. They glared at everyone who wasn't part of their little club. There also happened to be a minor change: while Ellen and Jenna had returned to the fold, Iphigenia and Kimiko hadn't. Maybe it had all to do with the curses they were suffering from?
  
  Dakota didn't feel like asking the question to them, honestly.
  
  "Does the girl next to Commodus remind you someone, my drunken lieutenant?"
  
  "No," the son of Bacchus was surprised by the turn taken by the conversation. The First Labour was about to begin, it wasn't like Jackson to be distracted on something so minor. Okay, Commodus was awful and likely should be in prison for molesting someone two thousand years younger than him, but-
  
  "I have the strangest feeling I met her before," the son of Poseidon was unusually thoughtful. "Yet I don't remember where."
  
  "Maybe you met her doppelganger somewhere," he suggested.
  
  "Maybe," but you knew by the tone that Perseus wasn't convinced at all. "Where were we anyway?"
  
  "The indecency of the costumes," Dakota reminded the younger Demigod, trying to not roll his eyes. "I felt like a clown when we paraded in the arena, and I sure as the Pit wasn't the only one."
  
  "Strange, I thought you were trying to avoid looking at the lovely backsides of the Ramirez-Arellano sisters. Aren't they ravishing in tiger costumes?"
  
  "Go get them, tiger!" Rico Kowalski of course had to cackle immediately after.
  
  Dakota blushed. A groan and a glance later, he tried very hard not to look in the direction of Hylla and Reyna.
  
  "I blame you for everything, you know."
  
  "Blaming me for what?" Perseus, naturally, tried to play the 'innocent' persona. "Life is short you know. We Demigods have to enjoy life when and where it is possible."
  
  "Do you really want to add 'peerless match-maker' and 'Wedding Adjudicator' to your list of titles?"
  
  "It would be something to add to my already significant list of exploits."
  
  The worst part? That repartee was not a lie at all.
  
  The twelve gladiators of Team Adjudicator forming again a line perpendicular to the Imperial Lodge of Commodus brought this debate to an end.
  
  Less than five seconds later, the twelve gladiators of Team Triumvirate faced them, doing their best to appear threatening and deadly.
  
  "Mark Antony committed plenty of Mars-sworn mercenaries directly for the First Labour." The leader of the Suicide Squad commented with a grin.
  
  "Can you blame him? Their God urged them to cut his throat. Besides, you did exactly the same."
  
  "Not exactly," the son of Poseidon contradicted him. "I sent eleven servants of the God of War to the slaughter, yes. And I sent the one who is going to win this Labour."
  
  Dakota swallowed heavily. What kind of monster-
  
  The thought was discarded as Commodus once again rose from his throne.
  
  "The selections are over, and everyone is in position! It is time for the First Labour to begin!"
  
  The Coliseum shook slightly as tens of thousands of Centaurs and monsters loudly celebrated.
  
  "The choice of opponents was of course difficult, because there were so many potential candidates! So much talent! So much ferocity! So much dedication to turn the sands of this arena red!"
  
  Plenty of Centaurs brayed in approval. The Lamias hissed.
  
  Everywhere it was carousal and madness, bestiality unleashed and worse.
  
  "But those are the Labours of Neo Hercules! Average opponents simply wouldn't do for these legendary Games!"
  
  If you just looked at his face for these seconds, you would almost believe Commodus wasn't speaking of carnage and death.
  
  The golden gates on the opposite side of the Imperial Lodge began to slowly open.
  
  Dakota had a very, very bad feeling.
  
  "Thus, I, Neo Hercules chose the most prestigious opponent. The very animal species which fought a true war against Mankind, and nearly won!"
  
  Something walked out of the darkness. It was tall, and advanced in a curious manner.
  
  "I speak, of course, of the noble Emu!"
  
  Dakota immediately facepalmed, followed by half of the Suicide Squad, and countless others, both in the Waiting Room and outside of it.
  
  "Jackson! This isn't funny!"
  
  "I completely agree," the red eye stared at the screen. There was no smile on his face. "Look at the Emus. Observe them attentively."
  
  By now, there were four or five of the 'birds' out of the tunnel.
  
  They didn't seem bothered by the crowd or the noise. In fact, they didn't seem to watch anything but the gladiators arrayed in the middle of the arena.
  
  "What are we supposed to look at?"
  
  "The glint of their beaks, their talons, and their feathers, of course."
  
  Dakota frowned in incomprehension. After a few heartbeats though, he realised Jackson had a point.
  
  "It is almost as they're made of metal," the son of Bacchus muttered. "But that's impossible. Ostriches and Emus aren't made of metal..."
  
  "Unless you are crazy enough crossbreed your Emus with Stymphalian Birds," Perseus Jackson finished. "And I'm willing to gamble a million Drachmas that is exactly what Commodus did."
  
  Dakota MacDonald became really, really afraid. A few Emus were hardly a threat. But if the Emus had natural beaks and feathers of metal, in addition to the man-eating voracity of the Stymphalian Birds, it was suddenly entirely something else.
  
  "And do you know why the joke existed in the first place?"
  
  "No?"
  
  "Emus can reproduce extremely quickly and migrate in huge numbers."
  
  Five Emus were soon joined by ten, and then fifteen.
  
  More came in the next seconds, watching carefully the gladiators, their future foes.
  
  No, they weren't watching them like they were their foes. The Emus were observing their prey.
  
  "I have called this First Labour," Commodus proclaimed, "THE SECOND EMU WAR!"
  
  20 January 2007, Apollo Sun Palace, Olympus
  
  Several powerful ideas coursed through Apollo's essence at once.
  
  The first was that he, of all people, should have expected this. Had he not in old times noticed the obsession of his lover when it came to the battle-ostriches? Ostriches. Emus. The two species were close enough they were essentially the same. And breeding them with Stymphalian Birds was the next insane step, if you were a madman.
  
  The next idea was to acknowledge there were one hundred and twenty-eight Emus in the arena. So far.
  
  Once this was mentioned, there was a clear and ruthless realisation. The gladiators mustered to face these Emus were completely screwed. Because yes, the Emus appeared to have inherited the ability of the Stymphalian Birds to bombard their foes with metal feathers.
  
  It would have been easy for a proper Legion to counter.
  
  But it was not a Roman Legion they were against, was it?
  
  It was gladiators.
  
  And Commodus had given true weapons to them, but he had not allowed true armours.
  
  All of them, from the murmillones to the single fisherman-like retiarus, carried helmets and parodies of armours. Two-thirds of them were completely bare-chested. Maybe if they had been authorised to play as Samnites, it would have been different, but it was not to be.
  
  "Fools," his sister commented next to him with evident disdain.
  
  Apollo blinked.
  
  "I thought you would be a bit more supportive, sister. After all, if these gladiators fail, Perseus Jackson may have to send your Huntresses to replace them."
  
  "If he does that, I will disintegrate him in person once this Great Quest is over. What?"
  
  His expression must have been more serious than he thought.
  
  "For many reasons, most of them likely related to the fact I killed him, one of Commodus' targets is you, little sister."
  
  "I am the eldest sibling, Apollo. And if this bastard of Emperor thinks he can grope me like he did his girl, I will sever both his arms and his legs, and then I will feed them to him, piece by piece!"
  
  When she was in this mood...it was better to not pursue the subject.
  
  The bombardment of metallic feathers began in the arena.
  
  It was murderous and extremely efficient.
  
  Emus were incredibly fast, and in a charge like this, the feathers reminded him the mounted archers of Carrhes which had annihilated Crassus' Legions.
  
  It was a death rain.
  
  Four gladiators fell immediately, their flesh torn apart by dozens of feathers finding their mark.
  
  "If they don't do something quickly, it is going to be a one-sided massacre..."
  
  It was a lone circle of twenty-four gladiators, encircled by a tide of Stymphalian-crossbred Emus.
  
  Well, twenty now.
  
  It could end only one way, and the Sun God could hear the bloodthirsty whinnying and the screams of the monsters anticipating the destruction of the two Teams.
  
  This was when the Dimachaerus of Team Adjudicator removed his helmet.
  
  Apollo frowned. Why would someone do something so stupid?
  
  He-
  
  Apollo recognised the man.
  
  He recognised him!
  
  The Dimachaerus' two short swords changed, called out of a power that was not of this time.
  
  The gladiator screamed.
  
  Every immortal who had watched the Slave Wars remembered this horrible litany of hatred and grief.
  
  The fury and the sorrow provoked by the Roman Republic, all imbued in a single Demigod body.
  
  "DIE WELL! KILL THEM ALL!"
  
  "Spartacus, son of Nemesis," Apollo murmured.
  
  "Hades allowed this insanity to happen?" His sister asked aghast.
  
  "Clearly, he did." One did not escape easily from the maximum-security prison where the rebellious leadership of the Slave Wars had been imprisoned.
  
  Thus the likely outcome was that the Lord of the Underworld had deliberately released Spartacus.
  
  Something the Emus were about to regret, if they had the ability to do so.
  
  In a single spectacular jump, the legendary rebel gladiator jumped, hacking his way through a rain of feathers.
  
  There was a slash of raw destruction.
  
  Two Emu heads fell.
  
  "COME ON, ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?"
  
  Each word was accompanied by a new bird dying.
  
  Some Emus decided to test their talons against the swords of Spartacus. Maybe they thought that since those were made of metal and the range was theirs, it would be more efficient.
  
  They regretted it quickly and permanently.
  
  The crowd of monsters screamed its approval.
  
  Antaeus, the Second Referee, was shouting something about Blood and Skulls.
  
  All the surviving gladiators of Team Triumvirate and Team Adjudicator followed into the fray. The dice had been cast; they had tied their destiny to Spartacus.
  
  The black blood of the Emus and the red blood of the men sworn to Ares-Mars darkened the sands.
  
  More Emus poured into the Coliseum.
  
  All order ceased to be.
  
  The First Labour unravelled into an orgy of blood, raw violence, and willingness to cause as much pain as possible.
  
  "KILL! KILL! KILL!" The spectators cheered and encouraged the slaughter.
  
  This was madness. And if it was really an advance warning of what certain enemies of Olympus intended, it promised nothing good for the years to come...
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, under the Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  In the end, Jackson had been completely right about the numbers.
  
  Commodus had sent three waves of monstrous Emus against the gladiators, each of them over one hundred strong.
  
  The original Labours of Hercules sounded very tame in comparison to this near-impossible challenge.
  
  By the beginning of the third wave, Spartacus had been the only one standing.
  
  Miranda had often wondered if some past wars had not grossly overestimated the exploits of the men called 'heroes'.
  
  Now watching one of them fend an army of man-eating birds trying to end him by beaks, feathers and talons, the daughter of Demeter knew they hadn't been.
  
  In fact, it was evident some history records had been completely purged or outright fabricated.
  
  Spartacus hadn't received a serious wound during the first two waves of enemies.
  
  This wasn't luck.
  
  This wasn't someone relying on well-executed tricks or cunning plans.
  
  This was just experience and skill, leagues above what a 'normal' Demigod should be able to wield.
  
  Miranda was both fascinated and repulsed by it.
  
  Some of it might have to be with the monstrous part that was now part of her.
  
  As Champion of Calypso, she was now feeling things differently now.
  
  "He is the son of someone of the Olympian Council, right?" she tried to confirm.
  
  "Wrong," Perseus answered. The son of Poseidon had taken the central couch with Lou Ellen curled up against him, and most people chose to ignore. "He is a son of Nemesis."
  
  "What?" On the TV, one Emu was used as a mace to stab the others for a few seconds, before Spartacus recovered the blades he had 'forgotten' in other Emus' corpses. "But he is-"
  
  "If given the time to develop his or her talents, any Demigod can reach an incredibly high martial proficiency," the Earthshaker child assured her. "Ouch! That must have hurt."
  
  Plenty of Emus had just lost their legs, among other things.
  
  There was truly a disturbing amount of corpses now, and some of the birds were breaking the attack to try to feast on the lifeless gladiators and their unfortunate fellow Emus.
  
  They paid for it, of course, as no quarter was ever given.
  
  "I suppose at least we know why you had so many difficulties convincing the Rich One to release him."
  
  "With the two others in my team," Perseus proclaimed, "these 'Games' would have been a series of one-sided triumphs from dawn to dusk."
  
  Foreigners might have taken it as an arrogant boast.
  
  Miranda believed him.
  
  Spartacus was pulverising the Emus, winning this First Labour by himself. The other gladiators had just been cannon-fodder that had barely lasted mere minutes and accounted for less than a dozen Emus.
  
  If there were two more like him, but with complimentary abilities, victory would indeed have been nearly certain.
  
  There weren't more than three Labours per day until the final series of Labours; the Suicide Squad could have relaxed and let the legends of the past show how good they were.
  
  This was just fantasy now.
  
  The last Emus fell one by one.
  
  But it was clear Spartacus was slowing down.
  
  "The Power of Vengeance is leaving him."
  
  She certainly didn't miss how wary Ethan Nakamura looked watching the butchery.
  
  "Everything has a price, and the Goddess of Vengeance is not one to cheat."
  
  The crowd didn't care, though.
  
  They had been on the side of the Emus when it began, but now it was obvious they had changed of allegiance.
  
  "SPARTACUS! SPARTACUS! SPARTACUS!"
  
  They were maniacal. It was a choir of madness urging for more deaths.
  
  It was a clamour which could plunge the world into an era of blood.
  
  Fortunately, it ended.
  
  The last Emu lost his head to the twin blades of Spartacus, and fell on the corpse-covered arena.
  
  Spartacus raised his blades in triumphed and howled.
  
  The entire Coliseum exploded in celebrations and shouts of approval.
  
  Needless to say, the Referees' celebrations didn't take more than three seconds.
  
  Fireworks were launched all over the arena, and some screens changed, as famous video games' music played out.
  
  The Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules:
  
  TEAM ADJUDICATOR: 1
  
  TEAM TRIUMVIRATE: 0
  
  "It has the merit of being clear," Grant intervened, crossing his arms in a posture everyone had learned to recognise. "One Labour done, eleven to go."
  
  "Yes," Dakota grimaced. "But I don't like at all how easily the other gladiators went down. They had many flaws, but they weren't unskilled."
  
  "My men were veterans," the scarred 'Colonel Ross' confirmed, scowling furiously.
  
  "And it looks like the hero of the hour has exhausted his strength," Perseus didn't bother looking at the Ares-sworn mercenary.
  
  Which was certainly true: the fluidity and the lethal aura that had shrouded the legendary rebel gladiator were gone.
  
  Spartacus was saluting and leaving slowly the arena, but Miranda suspected that it was not because he wanted to enjoy the laurels of his victory.
  
  It was simply the fastest he could now move.
  
  GLADIATORS OF TEAM ADJUDICATOR: 89
  
  GLADIATORS OF TEAM TRIUMVIRATE: 88
  
  "A bloody affair," one of the penguins spoke for them all. "We can't afford to lose that many gladiators for every Labour."
  
  "I'm sure this is part of Commodus' plan," the son of Poseidon spoke calmly, emotionlessly, the only sign of human affection being his right hand held tight in Lou Ellen's two. "I had to use one of our strongest gladiators immediately, removing it from the field for the next two Labours. And both Teams lost naturally a lot of fighters."
  
  "In that case, maybe you should have better plans!" Miranda was far the only one who glared when the Huntress once again insulted him.
  
  "In some situations, there are simply no good choices, Panther Kowalski." Perseus Jackson informed her in a very cold voice. "These Labours are a trap, in case you haven't noticed. I certainly wasn't aware that Commodus had crossbred Emus with Stymphalian Birds and had over three hundred of them ready for today."
  
  "Besides," Reyna Ramirez-Arellano intervened. "If you hadn't sent Spartacus, in all likelihood, the first twelve gladiators would have died and then it would have been necessary to send twelve others, easily doubling the list of those killed in action."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  "We have to win," Perseus Jackson gave a respectful nod to the daughter of Bellona. "And if it hadn't been Spartacus, it would have been Bianca, Lou Ellen or myself. Since no one else has the skill to prevent hundreds of metal feathers from hitting, we would have needed Demigods with the power to resist this onslaught."
  
  "I may have been able to," Drew Tanaka said.
  
  "Alone, unsupported, and surrounded by hundreds of carnivorous Emus?" the leader of the Suicide Squad replied drily.
  
  The Champion of Persephone grimaced and closed her mouth.
  
  "At least we won this first round."
  
  "Yes, it would have been far worse if we lost."
  
  20 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Commodus was not mad.
  
  It would have been better for the world, Dionysus knew, if the former Emperor was.
  
  At least that way he would have fallen into his Domain.
  
  But Commodus wasn't mad.
  
  He was cruel, narcissist, megalomaniac, paranoiac, and unfriendly in the extreme. His artistic tastes were so awful they were a crime by itself, assuredly.
  
  He didn't enjoy grapes or wine for the essence of flavour, but because in his opinion, only the finest wines and grapes could be admitted in his presence.
  
  The same could be said about parties.
  
  As for excesses, Commodus began with the outrageous, and went so far beyond the norms that the definition of 'Commodus excesses' began long after everyone stopped in horror.
  
  And Commodus wasn't mad.
  
  A madman wouldn't have respected his own rules to the letter during the 'First Labour'.
  
  Once the army of Emus had been slaughtered by Spartacus, the Roman 'High Judge' had conceded defeated without an expression of contrariety.
  
  Obviously, it meant that some of his goals had succeeded.
  
  Gladiators had been killed in great numbers, no matter how expendable they were in the long-term.
  
  But what was certainly the most important was the atmosphere of violence and the bloodthirst ruling over the Coliseum.
  
  Mortals couldn't perceive it, but Dionysus could.
  
  This arena had been the prime ground for senseless massacre.
  
  It was bad enough it took place.
  
  But there was worse.
  
  Some of it had undoubtedly poured inside Ares. It was his servants who had been massacred, after all.
  
  Ironically, the only Demigod who had not been sworn to the God of War had survived. Spartacus was dedicated to Vengeance, and he had never obeyed any God but his mother.
  
  The legendary rebel was a symbol.
  
  And symbols were important.
  
  Yet the God of Wine still didn't know what Commodus intended to do.
  
  Was he going for an attempted usurpation of Dionysus' half-brother, trying to beat Mark Antony to the finish line? Was he trying to steal as much divine strength from an Olympian before challenging Heracles?
  
  Somehow, the God of Madness didn't think it was the correct theory.
  
  Alas, most of his attempts to guess the truth were really unsatisfactory.
  
  He was sure that if he was allowed to speak to Perseus Jackson, they would likely solve the enigma in a couple of hours, but their enemy had anticipated that.
  
  The 'Waiting Rooms'.
  
  Yes, they didn't appear to be anything special, but no one, not even the Olympians could communicate with those inside.
  
  In one stroke, Commodus had made sure there could be no coordination with any of the Teams.
  
  It was worth repeating: the son of Marcus Aurelius was cruel and ruthless, not stupid. That and he likely had good advisors behind the scenes.
  
  If Perseus Jackson had not been in charge of one of the Teams, it was not unlikely Commodus may have been able to slaughter most of the two hundred gladiators 'volunteering' for this ungodly butchery.
  
  "Did you find the spectacle to your taste, Lord Dionysus?"
  
  "It certainly was entertaining in some gory aspects." The Olympian answered.
  
  Most mortals would have taken it as a sign to be a bit more humble.
  
  Commodus wasn't 'most mortals'.
  
  The former Emperor looked incredibly smug as he ate a banana in a way that screamed of perversion.
  
  "I know, right? I certainly didn't expect the son of Poseidon to have the resources to release Spartacus from the Underworld."
  
  The last part was definitely a lie. Commodus had been warned.
  
  The Sire of the Drakons? It had to be. Perseus Jackson and Bianca di Angelo knew very well how important information and operational security truly were for their plans.
  
  "What are your intentions now?" Dionysus feigned boredom as the last dozen Emu corpses were removed from the arena. Loud machinery was activated in the depths of the Coliseum, and plenty of arena-handlers stormed worked as fast they could to remove all signs of the carnage.
  
  "We move on to the Second Labour, of course. I generously give fifteen minutes of Interlude so that my helpful subordinates have the time to prepare the arena. It is early, we have time. The son of Vengeance destroyed the poor Emus far faster than the most optimistic bets of my Praetorians."
  
  In other words, no matter how surprising the victory of Spartacus had been for some parties, it had been utterly insufficient for Commodus to change his approach.
  
  This was not good.
  
  "And the Second Labour itself?"
  
  "Oh, it is rather easy," Dionysus tried not to sigh as Commodus went on to grope a couple of half-naked young men he had summoned with a twitch of fingers.
  
  Honestly, Apollo's tastes were confirmed to be 'beyond awful'. Dionysus had been drunk for most of his existence of Demigod, and even during these times, he had not fornicated with someone that cruel and sociopathic.
  
  "One might say," the Lord of this extravagant Coliseum smiled viciously, "that is a simple administrative procedure."
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Triumvirate, depths of the Coliseum
  
  "This First Labour was really a disaster. Fortunately, we lost no one important."
  
  "Yes."
  
  The majority of the Mars-sworn gladiators of course didn't like hearing that at all.
  
  On the other hand, at least ten of them had been caught whispering how they thought their patron deity would reward them when their mission would end in total success.
  
  Medea reserved her judgement about the female warriors, but when it came to the males, there was no doubt that Commodus had saddled them with betrayers-in-being.
  
  "The question is if we take the field for this Labour." Marcus Antonius continued.
  
  "I would advise you not to," the youngest of the Immortal Sorceresses replied. "The key argument being that if you set a foot into the arena, Perseus Jackson will be forced to imitate you."
  
  "We may have to risk it at some point." Isis' husband pointed out. "They won the First Labour, and though their strongest asset is exhausted, he will return to fight another day."
  
  "And Spartacus won't need a lot of arguments to slaughter Team Triumvirate, I know."
  
  If the Emus had been normal Emus and not the unholy monstrous outcome of a crossbreeding with Stymphalian Birds, it was likely Spartacus would have directed his wrath first against the Mars-sworn gladiators.
  
  But nothing was certain in these crazy 'Labours'.
  
  "I suggest we wait a few minutes. The siege engineers look like they are almost done with their preparations. They have built quite a temple in the middle of the Coliseum."
  
  "I don't think it is a temple at all," the former lieutenant of Julius Caesar told her bluntly. "It has a lot of common points with the Senate of Rome."
  
  Purple drapes fell, and the musicians began a new music which seriously hurt her ears.
  
  The spectators returned to their seats, abandoning previous occupations, which for the sake of public decency, the Immortal Sorceress refused to describe.
  
  "My friends!" Commodus abandoned the golden sofa he had chosen as his throne-couch several minutes ago - the ex-Imperator had never been able to tolerate staying idle for long, and changes of decoration in his Imperial Lodge happened every minute. "It is my greatest pleasure to announce that the Second Labour is about to begin soon!"
  
  Tens of thousands of monsters roared, brayed, hissed, or screamed their approval.
  
  "A few details before we begin, however. First of all, due to its victory in the First Labour, Team Adjudicator is allowed to replace the costumes of some of its members who participate in this one. Specifically, two female heroes will be able to don gladiator equipment, if it is their wish!"
  
  That was...ridiculous. Why in the name of everything fashionable would Commodus bother with something so pathetic?
  
  "The limit of the gladiators allowed the privilege of fighting in the arena remains at twelve per Team! However, unlike during the First Labour, our brave competitors have the possibility of sending them in several groups while the Labour is ongoing! The tunnel to the Waiting Rooms is and will remain open for the three hours of the competition!"
  
  Now that was intriguing.
  
  The previous butchery had been arranged to make sure the members of both Teams died twelve by twelve as long as the Emus weren't defeated.
  
  Here it clearly wasn't the case. They could send a small number of warriors first, look for the traps, and then commit whoever had the strongest chance to complete this challenge.
  
  Of course, the presence of Team Adjudicator complicated the matters. They had to do it before the uncanny tricks of the son of Poseidon proved decisive.
  
  "Now without waiting, let me present you the Second Labour! IT WILL BE THE THRACIAN ADMINISTRATUM! AND IT WILL BE DEFENDED BY PREFECT INCITATUS!"
  
  "BY THE-"
  
  Marcus Antonius stopped before he could voice what was certainly a very nasty insult.
  
  That said, Medea didn't blame him.
  
  For emerging from a lift that had been hidden so far, a pale white horse emerged.
  
  How could they not recognise this equine?
  
  It was the former favourite of Caligula, aka Neo Helios.
  
  20 January 2007, Ultra-Giant Yacht Germanicus, somewhere in the Caribbean Sea
  
  Neo Helios had not seen that coming.
  
  The surprise was such he dropped his crystal glass, such was his astonishment, with the predictable consequences it implied.
  
  The destruction of the glass and the spilling of the wine it contained were pretty much ignored.
  
  Obviously, measures had been taken since this fateful day when Perseus Jackson had killed Incitatus.
  
  Neo Helios only fully trusted his sister Neo Selene, and no else.
  
  Incitatus was not fully trusted, but he had been a high-ranked lieutenant.
  
  And now, it seemed, he had betrayed him.
  
  The First Augustus of the Triumvirate didn't wait.
  
  He took his phone, and called a number that he had memorised months ago.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "Omega-Iota-Alpha," he called.
  
  "Do you think it is necessary?"
  
  "We have Incitatus parading in service of Commodus in front of one hundred twenty thousand spectators and no doubt all the Olympians are watching it! How it can be not necessary?"
  
  "True. How do you want to proceed concerning the traitor?"
  
  "If he happens to survive the Second Labour," the claimant to the Throne of the Sun seethed, "you will kill him with extreme prejudice."
  
  "I swear to kill impartially all the gladiators of Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate!" Yes, no way, it could be an impostor.
  
  Now he knew why Incitatus had not returned, and it was not a tightening of the security measures in the realm of Hades.
  
  "Hail Commodus, Protector of the Equine Republic of Commodianopolis!"
  
  "You better pray Jackson is going to kill you a second time, Incitatus, because unlike him, I will not make it slow..."
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, depths of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  "This is really beginning to be an unpleasant tradition to not have any relevant information."
  
  "We know more about the Second Labour than we did of the First?"
  
  The former Tyrant snorted.
  
  "Grant, we didn't know anything about the First Labour."
  
  Otherwise he would have made a different approach.
  
  That the one he had made had ended in a success did not mean it could be considered perfect.
  
  Lou Ellen kissed him on the cheek, a hint he was to behave nicely.
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "At least we know why this Second Labour was called 'Thracian-something'. Commodus recruited Incitatus, once the favourite of Caligula, and the Mares of Diomedes, also known as the Mares of Thrace."
  
  "And this pale horse is likely the only one who can control them without feeding them human flesh constantly," Ethan added grimly. "They are all waiting for us in the building. How many of them are they?"
  
  "We saw twelve. I'm willing to bet they are far, far more than that." According to the myths, they were originally four. And if over three hundred Emus could be crossbred with Stymphalian Birds, then someone smart could largely multiply these abominations very quickly in a few years. "I also could be wrong, but I think we have been provided the reason why Incitatus turned against Caligula."
  
  "The Mares?" Luke voiced.
  
  "The Mares, yes. What better way to turn the allegiance of someone than propose him what his former master has always denied him?"
  
  "Oh, you mean-"
  
  "This isn't just an army Incitatus is building here for the equine cause, yes. It is a harem too."
  
  Leo Valdez began to laugh hysterically.
  
  Perseus smiled, but deep inside, he didn't feel any kind of amusement.
  
  "How do we proceed, Boss?"
  
  That was the question, wasn't it?
  
  "We really have no idea what the victory conditions are for this Second Labour, unfortunately. And Commodus isn't going to give them to us until we will have committed our first gladiators, I fear."
  
  This was the moment Clarisse and Annabeth returned, dressed as gladiators.
  
  Perseus didn't know what kind of game Commodus was playing with his 'suits', but anything was better armoured than these indecent suits of Ceryneian Hind.
  
  Though admittedly, the armouring standards were so low one way or another...
  
  "Jackson? We are ready."
  
  "I am sending you with Michael, Asterius and our duo of penguins." He commanded. "Act cautiously. I don't know what our enemy has planned this time, but it's guaranteed it will be an even worse surprise than the betrayal of Incitatus was for the Triumvirate."
  
  In the waiting room, many Ares-sworn mercenaries and Huntresses of Artemis tried to hide their relief. They were not very good at it.
  
  "If you feel you're way over your head, shout it and hold your position. I will come in person to destroy the opposition."
  
  20 January 2007, the Arena aka the Thracian Administratum, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  The bloodlust was extremely unnerving.
  
  You couldn't feel it in the Waiting Room.
  
  It was only when you got out of the tunnel and arrived in the arena that it came at you from every direction at once.
  
  Clarisse didn't like it.
  
  No, she hated it.
  
  Yes, she was a daughter of Ares. No, that didn't mean she wanted to lose herself in a lake of blood or something equally bad.
  
  She had seen how that had turned out for Spartacus, thank you very much.
  
  Oh yeah, everyone had acknowledged Jackson's personal 'reinforcement' was capable to beat three or four hundred Emus by himself.
  
  But everyone had also noticed that he was a butcher and a professional slaughterer.
  
  Vengeance had consumed him, leaving little else.
  
  Clarisse didn't want to end like that.
  
  And so she advanced bravely, thanking whatever Gods of Decency were present that she had been allowed to ascend with the equipment of a Hoplomachus gladiator.
  
  She had a spear, a small conclave shield, and a short sword. She looked almost decent as long as you didn't count the fact she only wore a metallic bra to cover her breasts. Everything was covered below her navel, at least.
  
  It was far more decent than this horror of Hind costume, and far more practical to fight.
  
  Clarisse wasn't surprised Annabeth by her side had chosen the same gladiatorial equipment.
  
  "Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate have assembled their gladiators!" Commodus proclaimed, and the crowd screamed for blood, skulls, and their deaths.
  
  "They have adopted the same strategy as Jackson did," the daughter of Athena didn't bother whispering; in the tumult of whinnying and roars, they wouldn't hear each other if they spoke in low tones.
  
  "Sending only half of the numbers is a good tactic," Clarisse grunted. "That way the Captain can send the other half with the critical support the moment they feel there's a path to victory."
  
  In the mean time, they had the duty to hold the line and survive.
  
  "They didn't send the Mars-sworn mercenaries this time."
  
  "We didn't send our mercenaries either."
  
  The boards showing plenty of ads for what were certainly illegal alcoholic drinks and prohibited doping substances switched off for a couple of seconds, before suddenly being replaced by Commodus' smile.
  
  "Now this Second Labour is simple," the megalomaniac bastard told them. "You, brave gladiators, only have to enter the Thracian Administratum building. And you have to obtain the Permit Alpha-Three-Eight. Grab it however you want, leave the Thracian Administratum, and the Second Labour is yours."
  
  This man was a psychopath, Clarisse was certain of it.
  
  "SOUND HORNS!" Commodus' enthusiasm generated a torrent of cheers and applause. "THE SECOND LABOUR BEGINS!"
  
  The six members of Team Triumvirate - an all-men team - rushed forwards without waiting for a single more second.
  
  Clarisse breathed out.
  
  All of this screamed 'bad idea', but there wasn't really a choice.
  
  "We follow them. But be on alert, I really doubt grabbing this 'Permit' is going to be simple."
  
  It took them less than ten seconds to enter the building.
  
  Some very common Roman decoration waited for them inside.
  
  Most of it was painted in three colours: blue, red, or yellow.
  
  It was flashy, the themes were disturbing to look at, but so were all the monuments ever built by Commodus.
  
  And one thing was sure, this 'Thracian Administratum' was bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
  
  "There are way too many cameras, Lieutenant-Boss," Rico told her, carrying an oversized gladius, well, oversized for his tiny penguin body. "The public isn't going to miss anything of our progression."
  
  "As long as Jackson and the others are able to watch and support us if we need it..."
  
  Something was wrong.
  
  They hadn't been attacked, and the corridor was empty.
  
  Even the six men of Team Triumvirate had stopped their advance a few meters past them.
  
  But ultimately, there was nothing to do but continue.
  
  For the time being, they ignored all the stairs on the left and the right, and pushed ahead through the immense central corridor.
  
  And it was some sort of success: at the end of it, in the centre of a hall where countless more stairs were accessible, waited one of the Thracian Mares.
  
  The female horse was waiting on the other end of a structure that was a mix between the ticket office and the stable.
  
  Unavoidably, since Team Triumvirate was in the vanguard, they were the ones to reach the man-eating monster first.
  
  "What is it?" the Mare of Diomedes asked in a gruff tone. Okay, clearly, Incitatus was not the only horse who could speak a human language here.
  
  A brown-haired tall Legionnaire cleared his throat.
  
  "We must obtain the Permit Alpha-Three-Eight."
  
  The female horse neighed insolently.
  
  "Registering a warship, biped? You have been ill-advised. Get out of here, and go to the harbour. Search for the Admiral, you can't miss him in the Admiralty House."
  
  Of course.
  
  Of course, it would have been too simple.
  
  "I don't want to register a warship! I want the Permit Alpha-Three-Eight!"
  
  "The Port? At the end of the Commodiana Avenue? You can't miss it!"
  
  "Are you dumb or are you deaf? We want the Permit Alpha-Three-Eight!"
  
  "If you don't want to register your warship, it is not my problem!"
  
  This was too much for the Legionnaire, whose face had become progressively redder and redder as the 'exchange' went on.
  
  And since the soldier of the Triumvirate was clad in Murmillo equipment, with a gladius in hand, it was a rather predictable outcome.
  
  The blade swung.
  
  The Thracian Mare pushed a purple button.
  
  Some blast of golden light struck.
  
  When it disappeared, instead of a proud and armoured gladiator-equipped Legionnaire, there was a huge male turkey in front of the office-stable.
  
  "This rudeness won't be tolerated," the Mare neighed loudly. "If you are sure you are in the right place, you can go to the Stable Eight on the fourth floor, third floor on the right! You will access it by the Gamma Stairs!"
  
  There weren't many things to be afraid of in this hall.
  
  But the hungry eyes the Mare of Thrace directed at the turkey were definitely one of them.
  
  "Annabeth, your opinion?" she asked as five Legionnaires of Team Triumvirate rushed out, the last of them carrying their unfortunate turkey-transformed comrade.
  
  "Don't follow them. It is a trap."
  
  "I know, yes." Clarisse breathed out. "But I would love to have an alternative plan."
  
  "We have to find a plan of this building. Once we do, we will be able to locate the Prefect's office...or stable."
  
  "Why we would do that? Skipper asked.
  
  "Commodus does nothing without a reason. If he presented Incitatus beforehand, it must be because the Permit is in possession, or at least the 'Prefect' knows where it is hidden."
  
  "It makes sense," Michael shook his head. "But I nonetheless have a bad feeling about this."
  
  "Whatever you do, don't try to kill the Mares." Clarisse ordered. "I don't know if penguins can be transformed into turkeys, but this Legionnaire was certainly a Legacy at the very least, and it worked on him."
  
  "The Boss and his sorceresses can break a curse if it isn't cast by an immortal."
  
  "Yeah, as long as the enemy herd hasn't chosen you for their dinner!"
  
  Asterius grunted.
  
  "Any other questions? Then let us begin by the Alpha Stairs. And let us hurry, we have only three hours to complete this Labour!"
  
  It had taken, overall, fifty minutes to find a plan.
  
  And if some people made critics, well, Annabeth would be happy to tell them to try and see if they did better.
  
  "This is a madhouse," Clarisse complained by her side. "Why is the 'Stable Three' on the second floor, but the 'Stable Four' is three levels underground?"
  
  "And why are they six stairs leading to the first floor while there is only one leading to the third floor?"
  
  The two Demigoddesses stared, before grimacing and deciding of a common accord this could wait for later...much, much later.
  
  "The 'Prefect Stable', or wherever Incitatus is hiding, is nowhere to be found."
  
  "I know."
  
  "May I suggest a good Kaboom?"
  
  "No, Rico," Annabeth closed her eyes. "No Kaboom."
  
  "But you ordered Asterius to destroy the statues!"
  
  "Said statues are enchanted to shoot arrows at us wherever we go in certain areas," the daughter of Athena reminded him before sighing.
  
  "Things would be far better if we could slay the Mares," the Emperor Penguin told them. "There are at best twenty-four 'Stables', one per Thracian Mare."
  
  "And if they don't keep the Permit we want within hoof's reach? We will stand like idiots in the end."
  
  "We don't even know if the Mares know where the Permit can be found."
  
  "They know," Annabeth tried to stay calm, which was easily said than done. "I'm sure the moment none of us are in sight, these equine monsters are having the time of their lives mocking us."
  
  This was the moment Asterius the Minotaur chose to sniff loudly.
  
  Several times.
  
  "Yes?" Clarisse said in a concerned voice.
  
  "Short-short ones, I smell meat being cooked."
  
  "Well, our 'hosts' must feel like taking their lunches, we are close to noon now."
  
  "No, short-short one." The Minotaur sniffed again for several long seconds. "I smell turkey. Turkey is being roasted."
  
  Turkey.
  
  When they had seen one Legionnaire already being transformed in one.
  
  When the Mares of Diomedes were known to be not only flesh-eaters, but also man-eaters.
  
  Oh, no.
  
  "It comes from this direction," the bull-headed accomplice of Jackson pointed a helpful paw at another series of stairs.
  
  "Okay, let's move on-"
  
  "No."
  
  "Clarisse?" Seriously, she knew the daughter of Ares could be ruthless, but-
  
  "Annabeth, I know what you think, but think for a second. Why did the monsters allow us to smell the roasted turkeys? This building has a lot of aerial conduits, and their kitchen isn't likely to be on the second floor where we are. We certainly didn't see any sign of it!"
  
  "You think it is more bait to enrage us."
  
  "I know it is both bait and trap, and likely something to make sure we explode into anger." Despite having a helmet to cover her visage, Annabeth had no doubt the other Demigoddess was grimacing.
  
  "ROAST ME THESE TURKEYS!"
  
  The order was followed by plenty of cruel braying.
  
  It was a provocation, Annabeth repeated to herself.
  
  It was a provocation.
  
  And the Triumvirate Legionnaires were enemies. If they weren't, the Suicide Squad wouldn't have to participate in these Labours.
  
  Annabeth tried very hard to repeat it three times.
  
  She didn't think she convinced herself.
  
  "Where to, Clarisse?"
  
  "We know where all the 'Stables' are, if the plan is giving us correct information." Right, and if they weren't, they were completely screwed up. "You copy the plan, and Michael does the same. Then we go to the Stables one by one, and we try to push them into admitting which ones don't have the Permit we seek."
  
  This was not a bad plan. Though Annabeth couldn't help but feel they were still dancing while the Mares brayed joyously at their misfortunes.
  
  "Okay. Where do we begin?
  
  "Stable Number Twelve. It is on this floor, and it has Stable Number Seventeen next to it."
  
  Five minutes of copying the plan - fortunately, pen and papers had not been denied to them in this building of cruelty and madness - and they found themselves in front of the two 'Stables'.
  
  It was good news.
  
  The plan had indeed given them correct information.
  
  The bad news?
  
  If the vision of two Thracian Mares wearing pink togas and having an animated conversation wasn't sufficiently disturbing, there was a large pool of red liquid in the middle of this new hall.
  
  And no, Annabeth didn't think it was ketchup.
  
  "And I was telling you, Madam has ideas of greatness the family stable is unable to pay for! Why, the last week, I learned they weren't able to afford a biped slave!"
  
  "No!"
  
  "Yes. Oh, Madam is saying everywhere she wants to avoid decadence, that the latest slave was laziness incarnate, but she fools no one. And did I mention the stallion?"
  
  "He was working at Vienna, no?"
  
  "No, he was fired. He is trying to build an aqueduct. An aqueduct you imagine?"
  
  Annabeth cleared her throat.
  
  It had no effect.
  
  "Still, an aqueduct is something that will leave its mark." The second Mare at Stable Seventeen gossiped. "This isn't a pile of marble, but it must bring some fodder into the through, no?"
  
  "Excuse me!" Michael barked.
  
  "Don't you see we're busy?" the first Mare neighed violently...before resuming the conversation as if nothing had interrupted. "I told her, surely, you can do better than an aqueduct-builder, look at what happened with those hired by Diomedes the Fool! Badly paid, no recognition, and then Hercules arrives and steal all the credit!
  
  "We want the Permit Alpha-Three-Eight!"
  
  The equine monster looked at the son of Apollo like he was a cockroach.
  
  "And me, rude biped, I want some fried turkey."
  
  The hoof rose-
  
  And a bag of explosives landed in Stable Twelve.
  
  Annabeth gaped.
  
  How in the hell had Rico managed-
  
  "RUN!" The saboteur penguin squeaked.
  
  Annabeth ran like Hell was on her heels.
  
  Given how powerful the detonation behind her was, it certainly was one of the best courses of actions she had ever made in her life.
  
  "Here is the Yellow Permit. You must go to corridor Kappa-Eight, Stairs Iota-Three."
  
  "No, return to Stable Nineteen. Gamma Stairs, Aisle Commodus-Two."
  
  "This is the Permit Green-Theta-Two. You will need it for Stable Thirty, Under-Floor Two, fourth door on the left."
  
  "Once there you will get the Red Permit, Stairs Rho, Stable Six."
  
  This was a nightmare.
  
  They had copied the plan of the building, this madhouse that called itself the 'Thracian Administratum'!
  
  But it had been only an incomplete plan!
  
  This horrible place was far bigger than they had estimated!
  
  "Delta Permit, fifth door on the left. Then go to the sixth floor."
  
  Michael wanted this damn Labour to stop existing.
  
  He wanted everything to stop!
  
  This was just unbearable!
  
  It was just-
  
  "Alpha-One Red Permit, it will give you permission to deliver the Circular Beta-Nine. Press on, we don't have all day, you know?"
  
  There were voices urging him to calm down.
  
  But the son of Apollo didn't want to-
  
  "This has to stop! They are forcing us to run from these stupid ticket offices in search of something that isn't here!"
  
  "But they can only delay us, we are mapping more and more of the-"
  
  "No! I have enough! I HAVE ENOUGH!"
  
  "Golden Permit for Chariot Driving Licence what can I do for you?"
  
  "RAAAGH!"
  
  "You are undoubtedly searching the Eta-Blue Permit? First Floor, Stable Fifteen..."
  
  When was this nightmare going to end?
  
  When was this going to stop?
  
  It was worse than anything than the Forge of the Ancients had thrown at them!
  
  It was worse than the Drowned Temple of the Dreaming One!
  
  It was too much.
  
  He didn't want-
  
  He wanted-
  
  "Could you stop making a racket? They are people trying to work here!"
  
  Michael Yew opened his eyes, and he saw.
  
  He saw this Thracian Mare mocking him, in a bipedal position.
  
  The monster was trying to play with a swing, which itself was hanging from the ceiling.
  
  "DDDIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!"
  
  Michael attacked.
  
  There was an enormous flash of magic.
  
  And then nothing.
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, depths of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  "Damn it Michael." Poseidon emptied his orange juice. "You kill monsters then you can scream all you want."
  
  The cloud of magic dissipated, and the former Tyrant prepared himself. After the murder of Legionnaire-turned-turkeys, he didn't expect anything good.
  
  He was, alas, completely right.
  
  "A hare."
  
  "A blue-coloured hare." Hera corrected.
  
  "A blue hare that the Thracian Mares are now going to try to devour."
  
  It was only a guess, but since they had succeeded in transforming and killing so far four out of six Triumvirate Legionnaires, the hypothesis was a sound one.
  
  Fortunately, the penguins had noticed in time that Michael was about to do something stupid, and they managed to save his life, at least for the short-term.
  
  "Right. Right. I think it is time."
  
  Perseus looked at his watch. Ninety minutes since the Second Labour began, and Clarisse and the others weren't any closer to find this never-cursed-enough Permit.
  
  He wasn't going to blame the daughter of Ares, Annabeth, or any of the others.
  
  They had done all they could.
  
  They had tried to keep their calm, to avoid the ugly traps, and to bypass the nightmarish equine bureaucracy.
  
  Clarisse, Annabeth, Michael, Asterius, Rico and Skipper...they had done their utmost.
  
  But in this House of Folly, their best was simply not good enough.
  
  "I can take command if you want." Hylla. Yes, the daughter of Bellona was sincere.
  
  No, she couldn't triumph there.
  
  "I appreciate the thought." Perseus grimaced. "But there isn't any more time to waste, and when I said 'it is time', I am not joking. I am going to win this Labour in person."
  
  "That," the daughter of Hades retorted, turning her imperious eyes to stare at him, "sounds like an incredible bad idea. There's still a Third Labour today to complete and-"
  
  "Do you have a better idea?"
  
  And no, he didn't ask it angrily or in a childish tone.
  
  It was a genuine question.
  
  Perseus seriously hoped someone had seen a contingency plan. Yes, the Lightning Thief was more about overwhelming sorcerous power, and this Second Labour wasn't about that.
  
  But good ideas were looking like they were in danger of going extinct.
  
  "No. I don't."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad breathed out.
  
  "Then we do it my way. Commodus wants some madness? He is going to regret it before the end."
  
  And this wasn't a bluff.
  
  Incitatus and this bastard who claimed to be 'Neo Hercules' had seriously annoyed him.
  
  For that, they were going to pay.
  
  "Bianca, in my absence, you are in charge of the Waiting Room, and you will decide who to send for the Third Labour should I happen to be temporarily unable to give orders. Lou Ellen is your second. Ethan and Luke will be third and fourth."
  
  "By your command," the former Dread Empress nodded.
  
  Perseus kissed Lou Ellen on the lips for luck and then abandoned the too-comfortable couch.
  
  "Even Hercules himself would not triumph of this Labour!" Panther Kowalski proclaimed, a statement that met the approval of most of the Huntresses.
  
  "Then it is a very good thing," Perseus gave the servants of Artemis one of his most dangerous grins, ever, "that I am not Hercules."
  
  20 January 2007, the Dove Palace, Olympus
  
  If Zeus really insisted, Aphrodite would have admitted that she had not exactly paid a lot of attention to the carnage that some happened to call an 'Adjudicator Game'.
  
  Yes, she had martial aspects, but above all, she was the Goddess of Love, Passion, and Lust.
  
  Except a passion to murder other living beings, there was little of that on Commodus' private resort.
  
  In fact, the island was utterly saturated with cruelty, the will to commit atrocities, and blood for the sheer pleasure of shedding it.
  
  Just glancing at it woke up in her essence some things she had tried her best to forget.
  
  As a result, she had not a single part of her immortal presence anywhere near the Coliseum of the megalomaniac.
  
  If other Olympians thought she was too busy fornicating or doing something else that scandalous carnally, so be it.
  
  She was Aphrodite. It wouldn't be the first time they believed the worst of her.
  
  And then it had to go to hell.
  
  Commodus, smiling bastard who should have been strangled at birth, was obliging enough to show the Waiting Rooms.
  
  And that Perseus Jackson was leaving it to enter the arena.
  
  It certainly caught a lot of people by surprise, beginning with the Team of the Triumvirate.
  
  Marcus Antonius had clearly not anticipated something like that, as he had removed part of his gladiator equipment one hour ago.
  
  Now Isis' husband tried hastily to put it back on, all the while choosing his bodyguards as fast as he could.
  
  The Second Augustus of the Triumvirate clearly didn't intend to walk in the arena alone.
  
  And yes, the Lady of Passion knew the rules accepted it. Five of his six Legionnaires had already been transformed into turkeys and eaten.
  
  But it was costing the Triumvirate precious time.
  
  "And in many ways, the Fate of this Second Labour has already been decided."
  
  The son of Poseidon was in the arena.
  
  The crowd suddenly grew far less bloodthirsty and loud.
  
  Lamias and Dracanae were vicious and powerful, but the part of their snake in them could perceive great danger when they were in presence of it.
  
  This was the case now.
  
  If Aphrodite could feel it just watching it on her cinema-sized plasma screen, then the spectators could as well.
  
  Perseus Jackson wasn't running.
  
  He wasn't saying a word.
  
  He wasn't swinging his sword threateningly.
  
  And yet Aphrodite felt the doom of Labours and gladiator games had been unleashed.
  
  Goddess or not, there was something that screamed 'get out of the way or you will be crushed' here.
  
  Unfortunately for the reputation of equine intelligence, the Thracian Mare waiting at the end of the first entrance was too arrogant to stampede away.
  
  Two human words for what was going to happen: karmic retribution.
  
  "If you're with the others," the Thracian Mare neighed. "I'm telling it to you: the Admiralty is in the harbour!"
  
  Oh, by the blood of the Titanomachy. This wasn't going to end well-
  
  "Is it why?" Jackson grinned in a terrifying manner, "you were engaged in smuggling exotic meat behind your beloved Incitatus' back?"
  
  Since all the Thracian Mares had micros to tell them what happened to each other, the reactions across the Administratum building were interesting, to say the least.
  
  "Pathetic bipedal accusation," the female equine tried to deny everything, forgetting in a single second she was to play the 'dumb and deaf' role. "You have no proof!"
  
  The next second, a twenty centimetres-high pile of photos was slammed onto the desk separating Demigod from Mare.
  
  "I have." The son of Poseidon proclaimed, evil burning within his eyes. "Including the famous episode where you try to sell island coordinates to the Centaurs, so they could pillage, loot and rape on their way here."
  
  "How could you know that?" Horses didn't hiss in fury, but this Thracian Mare looked ready to learn.
  
  "All mercenaries have a price." The Demigod who had beaten Tethys informed her while inspecting his nails. "These ones, felling the direction of the wind blowing, sold themselves ridiculously cheaply."
  
  "I...I...I am going to burn these photos and documents!"
  
  "Go ahead," the red-eye shone malevolently. "I have really photocopied them and prepared three piles worth of copies to send to everyone interested."
  
  "YOU! YOU UPJUMPED MONKEY!"
  
  "Let's keep things polite, you nasty excuse of carousel entertainment."
  
  "I WILL ENJOY EATING YOU!"
  
  The Thracian Mare slammed a quantity of buttons with her hooves.
  
  And nothing happened.
  
  The jaw of the flesh-eating equine distended in disbelief.
  
  "No...this is impossible!"
  
  "Nothing!" something terrifying was waking up. Aphrodite could sense it. "Nothing is out of reach of the Drakon-Slayer, the Bane of Krakens, he who humbled Gigantes and ancient monsters. Do you think repeating the same feat over and over is without consequences, you overgrown pony? I have known how to counter your ridiculous artifice once your fellow Mares used it for the second time!"
  
  "But...but the photos...the blackmail..."
  
  "I just wanted to see you squirm." The mad Demigod admitted with a grin.
  
  This time, the Thracian Mare really understood how massively she had screwed up.
  
  "I can tell you everything!"
  
  "Oh yes," Perseus Jackson drew a simple knife. It was so small that the Goddess was sure most mercenaries had let the boy take it without bothering to inspect it further. But it was made of Stygian Iron. "You will."
  
  The son of Poseidon cleared his throat.
  
  "Spectators, I apologise in advance for the brutality you're about to witness. Lord Commodus, by respect for your position of High Judge, I advise you to replace the next minute by a documentary about penguins."
  
  "But...But I can tell you everything!" The Mare brayed in terror.
  
  "This isn't about information," Perseus Jackson corrected her with a look that promised endless torment. "This is about sending a message to Incitatus and your fellow equine abominations."
  
  The screams began.
  
  There was a lot of blood.
  
  And while Commodus indeed played a documentary on penguins on some couple of screens of the stadium, the butchery was indeed done on live, with a public on the order of the millions.
  
  Aphrodite closed her eyes.
  
  Yes, it was a message. But a message for who exactly?
  
  The worst part was that there was some part of her who was aroused, who wondered how much she could push Perseus Jackson before taking him as lover...just as the rest of all her Aspects knew it was an incredibly bad idea.
  
  "Eros," she called.
  
  "Lady Aphrodite?" the Archer of Love answered immediately.
  
  "I have need of a certain symbol I ordered you to put away three millennia ago. Return it to me, please."
  
  "Err...it will be done as you wish, my Lady. But...are you sure it is that wise?"
  
  A litany of pain and suffering was heard coming from the live broadcast.
  
  "Wisdom isn't involved here. It is just necessary."
  
  Commodus and some others may think they could survive this hurricane of destruction and achieve immortality before it destroyed them.
  
  They were fools.
  
  Aphrodite had not respected her oath once, and the retribution had been earth-shaking.
  
  She wasn't going to make the same mistake twice in a row.
  
  20 January 2007, the Thracian Administratum, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  By the time Marcus Antonius and his escort arrived, they were too late.
  
  The son of Poseidon had disappeared upstairs, leaving a butchered mass of meat and bones that had just died after long suffering.
  
  Were they too late, in fact?
  
  The Second Augustus of the Triumvirate preferred not answer that particular question, not even within his head.
  
  It didn't get better.
  
  In fact, it did get significantly worse.
  
  Wherever they ran to, the world was spiralling into madness and blood.
  
  Thracian Mares were fighting each other.
  
  "Traitor! You were trying to be the favourite of Incitatus behind my back!"
  
  "You asked him to call you 'Sugar'! Don't try to look innocent!"
  
  "I knew I should never have trusted you with this jewellery!"
  
  And when he met the lone survivor of the six Legionnaires he had sent first into this folly, this wasn't better.
  
  "Lord Imperator, I can report I have changed the light bulbs! I have changed the light bulbs! Don't punish me!"
  
  Marcus Antonius hesitated. Was Jackson responsible, or-
  
  "DON'T SPEAK OF LIGHT BULBS!" A Thracian Mare shrieked on the hall nearby. "DO YOU THINK IT IS EASY, WHEN YOU HAVE HOOVES! THIS IS EQUINE DISCRIMINATION! THIS IS AGAINST THE RULES! I SHOULD NEVER HAVE ACCEPTED THIS DARE!"
  
  And the female monster began to ram her head against the wall.
  
  "Lord-"
  
  "Yes, this is Jackson's fault."
  
  It didn't get any better as the minutes passed. One of the 'bureaucrats' took her own life by throwing herself from the top of the stairs, screaming 'down with the triplicate tyranny!'
  
  Another Mare of Diomedes was eating a pile Permits, despite the fact they had been transformed into marble.
  
  "THE END IS HERE! THE END IS ON US!"
  
  "Imperator, this is getting out of hand!"
  
  "I think it has gone way beyond 'out of hand', Centurion!"
  
  "LA! LA! LA! LA!"
  
  The Legionnaire force he led had to evade in catastrophe as a Thracian Mare stormed the corridor.
  
  With a horrifying 'detail': the female horse was in a bath transported by two automatons, and it was trying to sing.
  
  Quite a few of his men cursed profusely.
  
  The former Magister Equites didn't blame them.
  
  Columns disintegrated.
  
  Several 'Stables' went down in flames.
  
  Permits were thrown everywhere, a mountain of parody bureaucracy that was getting trampled, pulverised, and forgotten as it deserved.
  
  Several of the Mares were changed into Turkeys as they began to strike quantity of buttons in the throes of madness.
  
  "Imperator! We have to-"
  
  Whatever his subordinate was about to say, it was lost for posterity, as a Minotaur, two penguins, and two Demigoddesses ran out in front of them.
  
  "GET OUT!" the blonde girl screamed. "GET OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES!"
  
  The veteran of the Gallic Wars opened his mouth.
  
  "REND."
  
  Reality screamed, and an avalanche of Permits collapsed two stairs.
  
  Thracian Mares galloped in a cacophony of whinnying.
  
  Debris began to rain down.
  
  "Forget the Permit. To the Exit! To the Exit, before it is too late!"
  
  20 January 2007, the Administratum Sanctum
  
  Incitatus tried not to shake in fear when the golden gates disintegrated and a lone figure strolled forwards.
  
  "Perseus Jackson."
  
  The Demigod had changed a lot since he had killed him.
  
  The tricorn on his head was evidently new, and he didn't know where the boy had obtained him; wasn't he supposed to have a gladiator helmet?
  
  No, Incitatus had to remain calm, focused.
  
  He could win. He had to win.
  
  Commodus was not forgiving of failures.
  
  But matters could still be salvaged.
  
  Perseus Jackson had yet to grab the Permit Alpha-Three-Eight.
  
  "You arrived too late," Incitatus neighed. "In ten minutes, the Second Labour will end."
  
  "Ten minutes," the lone red eye was a lighthouse of madness in the dark, "is far more than I need."
  
  "Is it?" the former favourite of Neo Helios tried to read the emotions of the biped. But there was nothing to see. Nothing but danger and terror.
  
  "I have a hostage! I have your lieutenant at my mercy!"
  
  The metallic pincers lowered into the room the man-sized hare that had been a Demigod one hour ago.
  
  He had a name, but Incitatus had forgotten it.
  
  "If you dare use your Charmspeak or your voice against me, I throw him into this acid pit waiting below! You have lost!"
  
  The enemy grinned.
  
  "Let's not make it difficult for you, Incitatus. The Permit. Now."
  
  "I do not have it on me!" Incitatus slammed his frontal hooves on the golden marble of his Sanctum.
  
  "This is the truth." The son of Poseidon shook his head. "But it is not far from here, isn't it?"
  
  "I won't help you! You have no blackmail to threaten me with!"
  
  His enemy sighed...and to his terror, marched up to the left wall, beginning to caress the carvings and the sumptuous frescoes.
  
  "The Fall of Bellerophon," for the first time, there was almost...respect in the biped's voice. "When the hero tried, mounted on Pegasus, to reach Olympus, and was punished for it."
  
  "Humans are such narrow-sighed and pathetic creatures!" Incitatus spat. "They are nothing without the horses, and for too long, they have enslaved us to their whims! But this is going to change, I promise it to you, you furless gorilla! The seeds of Mankind's downfall ready! When the fires of revolution will die down, the horses will be masters of the world! We will have a Republic made by the horses, for the horses!"
  
  There was a loud click, and the secret compartment hidden behind Pegasus' wings revealed itself.
  
  The biped's hands grabbed the little purple Permit that had been hidden inside it.
  
  "How?" Incitatus asked before he could stop himself. "You didn't ask any of my wives the question. You couldn't have access to the plans of the Thracian Administratum! You didn't know the colour of Permit Alpha-Three-Eight!"
  
  "Incitatus, Incitatus," the monster grinned. "It is not the questions that I ask which matter. The questions I don't ask are far more important. And you were wrong, by the way."
  
  "About what?" Dread began to consume him.
  
  "I have blackmail over you. Does Commodus know you were the one to steal his private yacht seven years ago?"
  
  "You-"
  
  Yes, the bastard knew Commodus and tens of thousands of spectators could hear him.
  
  Already, Incitatus could feel the burning gaze of Neo Hercules glaring at the back of his majestic equine body.
  
  It was going to be...difficult to leave this arena alive.
  
  But difficult was not impossible.
  
  And this started now.
  
  "I still have a hostage."
  
  "Ah yes," Perseus Jackson stared at him. The Demigod was akin to an abomination spat out of Tartarus. "I was going to mention that."
  
  He was sure everyone could feel it.
  
  The Endgame.
  
  This was the climax of the Second Labour.
  
  It had not been easy.
  
  Yes, it sure looked that way from the outside, but it was deliberate.
  
  Tyranny had to look like it was easy.
  
  That way, the next people trying it falling into the mud would look even more ridiculous.
  
  The story was written.
  
  The traps of this Second Labour had been destroyed, layer after layer, until nothing remained.
  
  In all likelihood, no other Demigod but Bianca and himself ever had a chance to win.
  
  "Don't you dare take a step forwards!" Incitatus brayed, his panic particularly delicious. "I'm warning you! One wrong move, and I drop this hare...I mean your friend into the acid pit! Now, we are going to-"
  
  "There is no 'we'," the former Tyrant took great pleasure in saying it.
  
  "Ridiculous, you need-"
  
  "I am Perseus Jackson. No one blackmails me! I am the one doing the blackmail! Do you understand English, my little pony?"
  
  Obviously, desperate creatures reacted in predictable manners.
  
  The lever was struck.
  
  The pincers opened.
  
  Michael Yew - aka the Blue Hare - fell screaming.
  
  Only the scream stopped.
  
  Incitatus looked downwards, and saw nothing.
  
  This may have to do with the fact Perseus was grabbing a certain hare by the long ears, as it emerged from his orange tricorn.
  
  "I must admit," the Drakon-Slayer laughed, "that I wanted to use that trick since we entered the Sea of Monsters! Thank you for giving me the opportunity, my friend."
  
  Obviously, the magic had done no good thing to the son of Apollo's mental capabilities. The Hare's instincts seemed to have overwhelmed him, unless it was the shock of the transformation. Not good.
  
  "But..." it was quite something to see Incitatus lose his ability to speak, if only for a short moment of time. "But how?"
  
  "How?" Perseus put back the tricorn on his head, and clicked the fingers of his empty hand. "Third-rate magicians are able to conjure white fluffy rabbits out of their hats! And people tend to forget, but the teaching is never one-sided. I have a daughter of Hecate as a girlfriend! Did you never think of the possibility she would teach me some of her magic?"
  
  By the way Incitatus looked like he had smashed a large stone in his equine face, no, clearly the horse hadn't seen it coming.
  
  "You have taken from me EVERYTHING!"
  
  The gold marble grew transparent.
  
  The trap was revealed, at last.
  
  Perseus had always known there was one.
  
  Commodus wanted to wipe them out, and all the Mares of Diomedes in the world were not enough for that.
  
  This was why he had gone alone in this House of Cruelty, and why he had told all the five members of the Suicide Squad to run.
  
  It had been the correct decision.
  
  For under his feet, into the catacomb now revealed, there were enough Greek Fire Jars to incinerate a few Cohorts of Legionnaires.
  
  "AUDACES FORTUNAS JUVAT!" The pale horse brayed for the final time.
  
  And the world exploded in green flames.
  
  20 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  The cameras, obviously, all failed in a couple of seconds.
  
  Their destruction was regrettable but not critical, however.
  
  Everyone in the Coliseum and beyond it could perfectly see the green inferno that had just been unleashed.
  
  Greek Fire.
  
  Of course, it had to be Greek Fire.
  
  Dionysus tried not showing his discomfort.
  
  He had been the one to invent that thing in a fit of drunkenness, and to be honest, the God of the Wine had regretted it ever since.
  
  Alas, his efforts to make sure the formula was lost were not exactly successful. Mortals, ever susceptible to the ravages of time, had indeed forgotten how to create it, but the same couldn't be said about the Cyclops, the Immortals, and plenty of other factions.
  
  Now the Greek Fire added one 'Thracian Administratum' to its tally of destruction.
  
  And everyone who was inside was burning with it.
  
  Dionysus felt the despair of the Mares, who unlike the Gladiator Teams, had not had the good sense to evacuate in time.
  
  "You wanted to be King of the Horses, Incitatus, but you only managed to become King of your own pyre..."
  
  "Ave Imperator Caesar Neo Hercules!" a Germani Praetorian saluted. "Should we announce the failure of the Teams and the end of the Second Labour?"
  
  "Jackson has not yet failed."
  
  The mercenary bodyguard gaped.
  
  "But Imperator Caesar, the Greek Fire! No one can survive that!"
  
  "Then watch and learn," the former Roman Emperor said after he ate half of an orange.
  
  There was an atrocious shriek, and suddenly all the Greek Fire was sucked into what appeared to be an immense vortex.
  
  The earth shook incredibly violently.
  
  The green flames were transformed into a maelstrom, a maelstrom devoured by immense jaws of destruction.
  
  And then there was a colossal explosion.
  
  Green light was expelled towards the upper atmosphere.
  
  The inferno had been banished, like it had been smitten by the hand of a God.
  
  Except no God had intervened.
  
  They couldn't. They weren't allowed to.
  
  "Now I freely admit I didn't do this during my rampage across the Persian mountains..."
  
  There was nothing left recognisable of the architecture of the Thracian Administratum.
  
  It was just mass rubble.
  
  It was only a mountain of debris, the broken remnants of a thousand rooms, the bones of an edifice that had been expendable and expended.
  
  And the top of the pile moved.
  
  For the first time in hours, the Coliseum was absolutely silent.
  
  No matter how many prejudices there had been against the members of Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate, the tens of thousands of monsters knew they were watching something legendary before their very eyes.
  
  They were not wrong.
  
  Something that must have been a part of some ceiling was cast aside, and Perseus Jackson emerged from the rubble.
  
  He was covered in soot and blood, his skin almost as dark as a smith after a day of hard labour.
  
  But the Demigod had clearly survived.
  
  Perseus Jackson had survived, all the while dragging by the ears the enormous hare that had been half-scorched by the heat.
  
  The son of Poseidon rose, and while the right hand held an ally, the left hand held high the mangled head of Incitatus.
  
  Judging by the gore and the rest of the evidence, the Lord of the Suicide Squad had torn him apart with his bare hands.
  
  "PUBLIC OF THIS MIGHTY COLISEUM! WHO IS THE KING OF PIRATES?"
  
  There was a clamour. There were screams. There was a sense of disbelief as uncountable souls tried to acknowledge what impossible feat had been indeed accomplished.
  
  And then there were what felt like a million roars.
  
  "YOU ARE, PERSEUS JACKSON!"
  
  The young Demigod nodded, and threw Incitatus' head into the stands.
  
  Dionysus saw the beginning of more chaos, but for once, he disregarded it.
  
  Most of his attention was on Jackson, who had drawn a small purple item from under his tricorn hat - likely the only part of his clothes that was more or less intact. Everything above the belt was ashes, and the loincloth was looking like it wouldn't last more than a few minutes.
  
  Trumpets clamoured.
  
  The military music filled the Coliseum.
  
  Even Commodus stood.
  
  "By unanimous decision of the High Judge and the Referees," and both Antaeus and Dionysus raised their fingers to show their approval, "the Second Labour goes to Team Adjudicator!"
  
  Fireworks were lit by the hundreds, and more music drowned out all the other sounds.
  
  TEAM ADJUDICATOR: 2
  
  TEAM TRIUMVIRATE: 0
  
  A few words that were worth rejoicing, but they were insufficient to truly explain the magnitude of what had been achieved here.
  
  Dionysus was almost certain his half-brother Hercules may not have won here!
  
  By all his grapes, there were plenty of Olympians who would have in all likelihood failed this Labour!
  
  REMAINING GLADIATORS OF TEAM ADJUDICATOR: 89
  
  REMAINING GLADIATORS OF TEAM TRIUMVIRATE: 83
  
  "JACKSON! JACKSON! JACKSON IS OUR KING!"
  
  For all the applause, however, Dionysus didn't miss how the young Demigod very slowly descended the mountain of rubble.
  
  Or the way he handed immediately the Hare-Demigod to the daughter of Ares.
  
  Or how the Minotaur, under the cover of shaking his arm, supported him.
  
  True exploits were always paid in an expensive currency, and this one had clearly brought Perseus Jackson to his limits.
  
  The black-haired Demigod really, really needed the help of his bull-headed accomplice to march out of the arena, no matter how much it was transformed in a splendid display of brotherhood and friendship, escorted by the other members of the Suicide Squad.
  
  The emotions were genuine. The brotherhood was forged true.
  
  But Dionysus was sure of one thing, if nothing else.
  
  Perseus Jackson, leader of Team Adjudicator, would not participate in another Labour today.
  
  He would technically be healthy enough to not risk a disqualification.
  
  But unless Asclepius himself was authorised by Zeus and the rules of the Challenge to him, there was no way a Demigod could recover fast enough for that kind of miracle to happen.
  
  There was the Golden Fleece, of course.
  
  But the Suicide Squad couldn't use it until they returned to their Ludus, and this wouldn't happen until the Third Labour was done.
  
  "This was an exploit worthy of myself." The voice of Commodus echoed everywhere in the upper levels of the Coliseum he had given his name to.
  
  Dionysus turned his head fast enough to see the glint in his irises.
  
  Yes, Commodus had unfortunately noticed it too.
  
  It didn't need divine acuity, and the son of Marcus Aurelius had undoubtedly been on the lookout for such signs.
  
  "I honestly didn't think someone would be able to recover Permit Alpha-Three-Eight. The son of Poseidon is incredibly good. Ha! I think I may have slightly underestimated his determination and his way to twist everything to his advantage!"
  
  That really didn't reassure Dionysus.
  
  Oh, the words could have fooled some poor naive stable boy, but Dionysus had already emptied five bottles of wine since this morning.
  
  He could ignore the tasteless pretense and get straight to the satisfaction hiding underneath.
  
  "Vortigern!"
  
  "Yes, Imperator Caesar Neo Hercules!"
  
  "There will be thirty minutes of Interlude! We will need that to remove all the mess of the Thracian Administratum! Prepare the tents and the rest! I need some celerity, here!"
  
  Now that was something vital for the rest of the Challenge.
  
  It had only been a guess so far, but it might be the truth: Commodus was going to order certain Labours to go ahead only in certain circumstances.
  
  And you didn't need to be an Olympian that the biggest outcome of the Second Labour was that Perseus Jackson was no longer in the way to stop him.
  
  "Yes, my Imperator!"
  
  "Thirty minutes of Interlude, and the Third Labour starts?" The God of Leopard feigned to have missed the hidden messages, playing the role of drunk to perfection, if he said so himself.
  
  "Indeed!" Commodus bared his teeth. They had been so polished that you almost expected them to turn into fangs. "The first two Labours were truly entertaining, and now it is time to give the spectators something they have never seen before!"
  
  "Isn't it going to be a problem, ultimately?" Dionysus asked innocently. "I mean, you are putting on a show that no self-respectable manager of arena games isn't going to be able to beat!"
  
  And it was certainly true, as long as you spoke of butchery, mayhem, carnage and awful deaths.
  
  "Ha! Ha! Ha! It is a very good point. But I think people have forgotten how to try. I'm reminding them why no true Emperor had any difficulty filling up the stands with tens of thousands of spectators!"
  
  Commodus raised his golden goblet - sculpted of course to imitate the head of a Nemean Lion - towards the electrified crowd.
  
  "After all, despite the reverses and the difficulties, the Empire always strikes back."
  
  Commodus exploded in laughter, and all his followers imitated him, some with more nervousness than others.
  
  Dionysus frowned.
  
  Author's note:
  
  The Adjudicator Challenge and the Twelve Labours of Neo Commodus will continue in the next update, which should be titled, The Empire Strikes Back.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  The Empire Strikes Back
  Author's warning note: This chapter is easily the darkest of the story arc. It features an enemy who has absolutely no redeeming qualities, and features very disturbing and evil things. The name of the chapter is a good hint that not everything is going to go well for the heroes.
  
  You have been warned.
  
  Chapter 29
  
  The Empire Strikes Back
  
  At the risk of surprising a few, no, the majority of the Roman Emperors were not fond of the Olympic Games, barring a few exceptions.
  
  Of course, the Emperors being all different, the antagonism and the reasons behind this hostility varied enormously.
  
  If they had to be honest, though, plenty found have admitted it was unbearable to have to wait four years between each journey to the sacred grounds of Olympia.
  
  You have to understand the poor successors of Augustus Caesar, really. When the man in question is wondering each day if he has paid his Praetorians enough to make sure they don't massacre him while he's asleep, waiting four years is an eternity.
  
  Then there are those who didn't like the Olympic Games because they lacked the comfort they were accustomed to. They did have kind of a point, needless to be said. When you are serviced by a hundred slaves and servants at any moment of the day, have your private lodge in the Circus Maximus and the Colosseo, and can rest in your delightful palace when you're tired, the prospect of sleeping under a tent in Greece is underwhelming.
  
  Because yes, if you weren't a participant in the Olympic Games, you weren't granted the permission to use the permanent infrastructure, be they lodging quarters or training facilities.
  
  Some Emperors, rather cleverly, tried to get around this problem by being selected for the different races and the other sports contest.
  
  Naturally, this was then the next hurdle was revealed: they were Judges overseeing the old Olympic Games, and they didn't like cheaters.
  
  Moreover, no matter the period, the largest delegations of the Olympic Games came from the nearby Greek Cities, whether they were or not under Roman domination at the time. The Romans often found themselves outnumbered on the ground.
  
  And yes, threats of mustering a Legion or two were uttered more than a hundred times, but nothing came of it, no matter how loud the post-game arguments between Greeks and Romans rose over the hills.
  
  Everyone had too much to lose; the Greeks wanted their Roman overlords to not provide a credible alternative to the Games organised in the honour of Zeus, and the Roman aristocrats felt it was unconscionable for anything to threaten their supply of statues and other cultural items that were critical to make sure their villas were the most beautiful of the Mediterranean.
  
  Plus there were the Gods into the equation. Whether in their Roman or Greek aspects, the immortals made it very clear that those who believed in them would respect the Olympic truce, or suffer the consequences of their transgressions.
  
  Obviously, this meant both sides had to make unpalatable concessions. The Judges closed their eyes when Emperor Nero won the four chariot races of the Games that he had specifically requested to take place, and the Romans merely grumbled when the Greeks confiscated nine out of the ten laurel crowns presented to the races' winners in the marble stadiums.
  
  Did this mean cheating remained far limited outside of these chosen examples?
  
  Hardly.
  
  The Judges were very good at their jobs, and able to notice the mortal cheaters. But the Olympians remained completely outside their area of expertise. It went without saying that the Greek Pantheon abused the hell out of it. Many proud male Champions who had egos as big as Apollo were punished by coughs and small diseases on the eve of a competition. The God of the Sun didn't hesitate to give his blessings to other racers so that they ran thrice faster than they should be able to on their day of glory. Hercules and his father often gave some strength bonuses during the boxing and wrestling events, just to laugh at the stunned expressions of the children of Ares.
  
  One entire delegation from Athens was disqualified because Aphrodite had made sure the 'loving husbands' all suddenly decided to have amorous and pleasant nights with their Corinthian mistresses, with the result they all missed the first day of the Olympics. In revenge, Athena made sure several Spartan Demigods were unable to sleep as flights of owls ferociously attacked their tents.
  
  Events like this amused greatly the Roman Emperors, and generally made sure the Games continued, as long the men in purple toga ruled from the Pillars of Hercules to Egypt. Well, that, and the legendary parties organised by the children of Bacchus and Dionysus every time the Olympic Games ended.
  
  It was a poor secret after all that, yes, the Olympic Games lasted 'only' three days, but the fourth had the blessings of Zeus to be the day his son the God of Wine ensured the enmities died down and the parties gave Emperors and plebeians something to remember for the rest of their lives.
  
  It must be remarked that yes, most of the time the Olympians participated assiduously in the festivities, and no, unlike the modern Games, there were no preservatives or methods of birth control methods handed on to the athletes and their female supporters.
  
  No wonder that the records never mention how many Demigods and Demigoddesses were ever sired during the Games; and that was when the Games were restricted to Olympia alone every four years; before that, there were the Nemean, Isthmian, and Pythian Games.
  
  Yes, I saw there were questions.
  
  What has it to do with Commodus and our adventures? Oh, nothing at all.
  
  I just wanted to speak of the Olympics and the Roman Emperors, I was sure it would make for a nice monologue. And I may have dropped a few inaccurate things here and there.
  
  But have no fear, oh adoring public. The real Games are about to begin.
  
  Extract of the Mad Musings of a Crazy Demigod, collected by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  "These Games are just murder." Bianca remarked, trying to maintain a facade of calm as the insane Demigod was evacuated towards the infirmary put at the disposal of Team Adjudicator.
  
  "And you know what you're talking about," Ethan Nakamura snorted next to her.
  
  "Yes, though I almost wish I didn't," seriously, as former Dread Empress, she had organised certain events where the goal was to exterminate everyone, and many Heroes had died in 'contests' that were ridiculously fair compared to this orgy of violence and madness. "Lou. You can go stabilise him, I know you want to."
  
  The daughter of Hecate gave her a grateful smile before storming out.
  
  "Was that a good idea?" the son of Nemesis asked with his usual grim expression. "We will miss her for the Third Labour. A sorceress of her power-"
  
  "I am a sorceress too, Ethan." Bianca shook her head. "If the situation demands it, I will personally intervene, just as Jackson did to save the Second Labour from being a bigger disaster than it already was."
  
  "Michael Yew being transformed into a hare was the only permanent loss, assuming the Golden Fleece and the skills at the Suicide Squad's disposal can't change him back." Luke Castellan intervened.
  
  "Michael was just the rock star of the group, having our crazy leader unable to go outside and fight is way more problematic. If Mark Antony decides to take the field again-"
  
  "He won't." Bianca interrupted Ethan's dark statement. "The Second member of the Triumvirate just had the dubious honour of being a witness when Jackson decided to spread his madness against the Thracian Mares. I doubt he wants to risk being close to it so soon. In addition to this little problem, Isis' husband may not be suited for the challenge of the Third Labour."
  
  "Yeah, speaking of that, it looks like the teams of Commodus are creating...a garden?"
  
  20 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  It was, of course, above the dignity of a God such as him to scratch his head and show an incredulous expression.
  
  That said, the urge was definitely there.
  
  The men and women in the service of Commodus were busy creating a garden, where minutes before there had been only been sand and the ruins of the Thracian Administratum.
  
  And yes, it was a true garden.
  
  There were flowers and bushes, all growing thanks to some sort of magical fertilisers.
  
  No, the flowers weren't carnivorous or dangerous. The bushes provided some berries that could be dangerous for your intestines if you ate too many of them in a few hours, but that was all.
  
  Paved alleys came into beings, and more flowers were added.
  
  Fruit trees were moved and placed at irregular but carefully chosen intervals.
  
  There were more flowers coming, enough that about one-third of the arena was now nothing but a large pasture of flower and grass, one with an uneven hill. More work was done by human hands until a small trench was dug, and once it was done, some water poured in via an ingenious underground pumping system, until the arena was thus granted a miniature river.
  
  As far as beautiful landscapes came, this one could get a good grade.
  
  The left part of the arena was best described as 'organised garden', and the other as 'gentle pasture'.
  
  The flowers gave off a powerful perfume, and they had reached impressive sizes in little time, being close to two metres tall when they finally stopped their ascent.
  
  It was all very nice, to be sure.
  
  And Dionysus hadn't the faintest idea what the purpose of all that scenery was.
  
  The mystery even increased as the workers moved two little altars next to the tunnels from where the two teams entered the arena. These were crude things, made of black metal, and once they were in position, a small cage of Orichalcum was placed atop them.
  
  Last but not least, at the centre of the arena, there was the suspended scaffolding of colossal size that was assembled in record time. And yes, the scaffolding had zero contact with the ground, it was holding in the air by massive metallic cables. The lower level of the scaffolding was about three metres above the ground; even for Demigods, it was going to be quite a jump to grab the metallic bars and take position on it.
  
  "One has to admit, it is very different from the first two Labours."
  
  In scenery, one could hardly see any common point with the Emu War or the Thracian Administratum.
  
  Since each of these 'New Labours' was parodying the old ones, was it possible these flowers and bushes were intending to be a lesser copy of the Garden of Hesperides?
  
  There was much confusion, including in the stands, where the bloodthirsty crowd of centaurs and other monsters wasn't exactly seeing the point of all these preparations.
  
  "DEAR PUBLIC!" Commodus rose again. "THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE, THE THIRD LABOUR IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!"
  
  Thunderous cheers erupted from the massive crowd filling the stands of the sole and only Coliseum to have been built in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  "I know some gladiators," the narcissist and megalomaniac Emperor, "were incredibly angry when they saw they had to participate in this bureaucratic chore. That's why I think it is necessary to make things simpler for these poor souls."
  
  The gates rumbled and opened.
  
  Many centaurs whinnied in anticipation.
  
  "The Third Labour is a HUNT!" Commodus declared cheerfully. "Two teams of twelve gladiators will come into the arena, and will have to track, corner, and grab alive a rare monster that has never been hunted before! Whichever team grabs the monster first and places it in the cage that has been prepared for it, wins the Labour!"
  
  There were many shouts of incredulity.
  
  Dionysus was close to add his voice to theirs.
  
  Because the cages mentioned were ridiculously tiny. A middle-sized dog wouldn't fit inside them; it was impossible to deny it.
  
  But perhaps that was half of the 'challenge'? It was impossible to fit a huge monster alive, so the two teams would first slaughter each other before finding a solution?
  
  "But first, let me present you the target of this unprecedented HUNT!" Commodus finished with a roar. "It has been bred using some particularly rare herbs and enchantments! It has survived many dangerous predators of this Zone Mortalis! It has won several records in the Guinness Book of Monsters! GLORY TO THE LEGEND OF THE THIRD LABOUR!"
  
  And out of the gates where an army of monsters had come, a small rabbit made its entrance into the arena.
  
  It had a beautiful silver fur.
  
  But aside from that, there was no indication it was different from any other rabbit.
  
  It wasn't particularly large or small.
  
  And when coming close to some fruits that were lying on the ground, it began to eat them.
  
  "Err..."Antaeus, Second Referee and son of Poseidon, managed to stop his gaping after two seconds. "That's not a monster. That's a rabbit."
  
  "Precisely," Dionysus blinked. What the hell was Commodus playing at?
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  "That's a rabbit."
  
  Bianca closed her eyes and counted to ten. This was necessary, otherwise she was going to lose her temper, and crucify someone.
  
  "Yes, I'm aware of what this horrible furry creature is, thank you very much, Ethan Nakamura."
  
  The daughter of Hades could see the obvious with her own eyes.
  
  "Where is the trap?" Annabeth Chase had just returned, having abandoned her gladiator attire for a T-Shirt and shorts that could be bought in the shops of New Byzantium. "Assuming there is only one, of course."
  
  "It could come from plenty of directions." The former Dread Empress replied. "I think that the tunnel where the monster came out staying open is incredibly suspicious."
  
  "Yes," the son of Nemesis grunted. "When the Second Labour was fought, the gates stayed closed. But when the Emus arrived by waves, it stayed open. This rabbit can't be the sum of the opposition both teams will have to face. There is something worse coming. Commodus wants a bloodbath, and if he leaves us alone, he can't be sure this will end in slaughter."
  
  A good part of Bianca thought Ethan was really naive. Yes, so far both Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate had not torn each other apart, but it was because of the strength of the opposition.
  
  If there wasn't an enemy they could unite against, the participants would shift their focus and assault each other.
  
  "Nonetheless, it should be easy, no?" Leo, son of Hephaestus, had clearly not been chosen by Jackson because he was smart outside of his mechanical atelier. Though Bianca supposed having a pyromaniac in his team was half of the reason Jackson had chosen the Forge-skilled Demigod. "I mean, it is just a rabbit!"
  
  "One that has certainly been 'doped' somehow with the essence of the Ceryneian Hind," Annabeth answered, her grey eyes analysing the arena, watching everything, and calculating all possible scenarios. "You may very well be right about monster reinforcements, Ethan. But the rabbit has to hold its own while both hunting teams are after it. Super-speed is one of the ways it could escape a prolonged hunt."
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  "The silver fur is not exactly normal, and the first two Labours have established a pattern. The Emus were crossbred with Stymphalian Mares. We got Thracian Mares speaking like humans. Why not a Ceryneian Rabbit?"
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  This wasn't the end of the world, but the scream pushed by several of the Huntresses was incredibly loud, and it earned them plenty of evil glares from everyone in the Waiting Room.
  
  "There was no need to kill all our ears," Dakota McDonald mumbled, and many boys and girls approved his words.
  
  "This is an insult to Lady Artemis and everything she stands for!"
  
  "Oh, come on!" Clarisse La Rue rolled her eyes. "The Stymphalian Emus were an insult to my father too, and I didn't jump on a chariot before going on a berserker rampage. Yeah, this is not good. So what? The megalomaniac bastard must have somehow obtained either some blood or fur from the Ceryneian Hind, and then used it to breed this rabbit."
  
  Yeah, but it hadn't been-
  
  Oh, no.
  
  Bianca's eyes widened imperceptibly. A hunt. The symbol of the Goddess of Hunt, but bred into a rabbit body.
  
  This was not a Labour per se. This was a provocation, and Commodus had decided to make it when Jackson was out of the game.
  
  "Stop," the Lightning Thief commanded in a threatening hiss. "You are not to participate in this Third Labour! It is a trap for you and-"
  
  "You don't give me orders, Hell Bitch!" Panther Kowalski snarled, and the senior Huntress ran out of the Waiting Room, followed by eleven Huntresses.
  
  What in the name of the Styx-
  
  No, they had already prepared this while the Suicide Squad was still reacting to the shocking revelation.
  
  Bianca had an incantation on her lips, but had to stop half-way, remembering offensive magic was forbidden in the tunnels under the Coliseum.
  
  "ASTERIUS! STOP THEM!"
  
  The Minotaur had already begun to move, and her surged forwards.
  
  But as fast as a Minotaur was, the Huntresses could be just as swift...and they had the surprise on their side.
  
  A metallic harrow slammed down as the twelfth Huntress passed the official boundary between resting rooms and arena, and Asterius had no choice but to abandon the pursuit, nostrils burning in fury.
  
  Bianca cursed under her breath.
  
  "This is really, really bad." Ethan commented darkly.
  
  "Yes," the former Dread Empress scowled. "Our chances to win this Third Labour weren't good before, but now they are near-inexistent."
  
  20 January 2007, the Arena-Garden, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  By the time they entered the arena, Ellen had already had doubts about how clever they had been to disobey the Lightning Thief.
  
  Massive harrows had blocked down the tunnel behind them, making sure they would be unable to call on any reinforcements.
  
  Suddenly, all the warnings of Jackson were playing back in her head, and from the expression of Jenna, the Huntress could tell her sister-in-all-but-blood remembered them too.
  
  That Panther and all the others were still showing confident smirks, if anything, didn't exactly inspire her a strong amount of confidence.
  
  "Team Triumvirate has committed eight women in addition with four males," Carina, the Huntress that was effectively Panther's second-in-command, showed a bloodthirsty grin. "Permission to make eunuchs of the latter?"
  
  "Later," the silver-haired Huntress shook her head. "I want to capture that damn rabbit first. As I'm sure you are aware, there were males in the Waiting Room we just left. Males and females that are barely one step above the status of uncontrollable beasts. We must win this challenge, and prove that they were wrong in all aspects!"
  
  "Indeed, Lieutenant," Guinevere spoke with so much assurance you couldn't say where her confidence ended and her arrogance began. Her walk was so smooth one might even forget she wore the same ridiculous and impractical costume as they did. "The rabbit is there, eating these red berries. Nets?"
  
  "This is for the better, yes. Sisters! I want to capture this rabbit and fulfil the conditions of victory immediately! This rabbit must be captured alive, and without injury!"
  
  No Huntress asked why such precipitation was necessary.
  
  When they had been in the Waiting Room, save the bastards worshipping the God of War, everyone had been more or less ignoring them.
  
  But here, under the gaze of thousands, it was impossible to deny that they were wearing really near-transparent costumes that were parodies of the noble Ceryneian Hind. It would have already been bad before a human public, but the Coliseum was filled with Centaurs. Lecherous and perverted proposals were echoing by the tens of thousands, and things that were sexual harassment with no attenuating circumstances was the norm.
  
  And there was nothing they could do to stop it.
  
  Ellen stared at Jenna, who silently nodded back. Yeah, she too had noticed how angry the ten other Huntresses were. In hindsight, spending so much time with Jackson and his band of miscreants had prepared them a bit for this. The other daughters of the Hunt had not 'benefitted' from such 'training', however.
  
  "THE THIRD LABOUR...BEGINS!"
  
  Instantly Carina took the lead.
  
  Ellen acknowledged that the older Huntress was assuredly bloodthirsty, but she was also incredibly fast.
  
  Had she been born a daughter of Hermes or Nike?
  
  No, she had to focus.
  
  Carina left them in the dust, much as the other sisters sworn to Lady Artemis were humiliating the members of Team Triumvirate in this hunting race.
  
  The Legionnaires of Mark Antony, who had made the big mistake of coming in the arena with heavy equipment, were dragging far behind and sweating profusely.
  
  No that it mattered, because Carina was already close to victory.
  
  The rabbit was still eating the big red berries, no sign it had been even paying attention to the contest.
  
  Carina jumped and launched the enchanted net.
  
  It was a perfect jump.
  
  It was a perfect throw.
  
  It was-
  
  BOOM!
  
  There was an explosion.
  
  There was a shockwave.
  
  Many Huntresses, including Ellen and Jenna, were thrown away like they were toys in the path of a tornado.
  
  "What...what just hit us?"
  
  The answer did not come from one of her sisters, though.
  
  It came from the Throne-Lodge far above the public and the Referees watching the spectacle.
  
  "Oh, dear," the God of Wine exclaimed with irony dripping from every word, "it looks like this poor, innocent rabbit just went supersonic!"
  
  "That...that's just..."
  
  Ellen stood, before helping Jenna stays the same.
  
  Since she was one of the first to recover, it also meant she was given the non-existent honour to see Carina gape at the net that should have held a rabbit.
  
  A net that had a massive hole at the centre of it now.
  
  It shouldn't be possible.
  
  The net had been blessed by the Goddess of Nets, Britomartis, who had been a Huntress herself millennia ago. It had been created with some of the most resistant materials to capture animals that possessed their own magics!
  
  It couldn't be destroyed that easily!
  
  All eyes turned towards the silver-furred rabbit.
  
  The little monster was no longer looking innocent at all.
  
  No, the silver rabbit had taken a bipedal position, and now make a provocative move with its forward paws, all the while twisting its long ears as if to insult them further.
  
  Then it turned around, raised its fluffy tail, and delivered the final 'insult'.
  
  "That's what happens when males are in charge of breeding their monsters." Panther Kowalski seethed, her eyes promising violent murder for everyone, including but not limited to Commodus. "Sisters! I rescind some of my previous orders. This rabbit must be captured alive, but I don't think we need to be particularly concerned about any eventual injuries! HUNT IT DOWN!"
  
  20 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  The Third Labour had begun badly for all gladiators.
  
  Dionysus was willing to concede it was not their fault.
  
  It had been rather evident that the Third Labour was a contest of Speed from the start.
  
  Unfortunately for them, the members of Team Triumvirate and Team Adjudicator weren't deities. They couldn't reach supersonic speeds. Alas for them, the 'Ceryneian Rabbit' could do it. Easily. When and where it wanted. And with a mastery of sprinting that was downright impressive.
  
  The outcome was humiliating and simple to describe: the silver rabbit was literally playing around, evading all capture attempts with disturbing ease, destroying nets and other tools when it was fanciful, and then delivering provocation after provocation.
  
  "This is rather bad," the God of Parties acknowledged.
  
  "Especially as the Huntresses have no strategy," Antaeus approved with a grimace. The red-skinned giant who had been once Charybdis' favourite General was not in a happy mood. "If they were more observant, they would see that the rabbit is voraciously eating certain berries and flowers after four or five speed bursts."
  
  Dionysus nodded. He had seen the same after thirty or forty seconds. The rabbit couldn't sustain these bursts of super-speed for long; they consumed way too much of its strength. And it had to eat a lot to repeat the exploit. This was the kind of thing a canny participant would be able to exploit.
  
  "Unfortunately, our Referee speeches can be heard by the public, but not by the gladiators anymore."
  
  This 'rule' had been put into effect just after the rabbit unveiled its true abilities for the first time. Dionysus was sure some loophole would be found in time, for now, they were effectively censored if they said something that could displease Commodus.
  
  "I could try something," Antaeus grunted, unwillingly echoing the thoughts in Dionysus' essence. "But I'm not sure the Huntresses would listen to my advice. And if this fails, this would have been a lot of effort for nothing."
  
  "Yes, I believe this was why your brother made clear he had no intention to let the Huntresses fight alone in this arena."
  
  Perseus Jackson's papers revealing his plans for them had called it Plan H, in fact. H for 'Horror'.
  
  "Well, evidently, something went wrong." Antaeus commented with clear disappointment. "It could have been an easy victory if they included a sorceress in their ranks. I've seen several monsters like this rabbit before. They're overpowered in some physical aspect, but that means they're weak to everything magical. The Ceryneian Rabbit has Speed but nothing else. You don't need someone as powerful as Circe! A daughter of Hecate would make this rabbit submit in a hurry!"
  
  Dionysus completely supported this theory. Unfortunately, it would remain a theory, for none of the Huntresses present in the arena were witches, and the same could be said about Team Triumvirate. It was rather ironic given that Marcus Antonius had one of the Three Immortal Sorceresses in his service right now. Medea in the arena could have won the Labour by herself. But she was in the Waiting Room, and thus as useful as if she was on another continent.
  
  BOOM!
  
  The silver rabbit made another supersonic dash, throwing more Huntresses away, crippling their hunting arsenal, and adding another chapter to the humiliation of the two teams.
  
  "I think this spectacle is becoming a bit boring," Commodus intervened, the male slave feeding him grapes stopping the activity and taking several steps back. "The two Teams have had thirty minutes to capture the rabbit. I'm generous, but there are limits. I believe it is time to give some spice to this Third Labour!"
  
  20 January 2006, the Arena-Garden, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  It was almost too late when they noticed something was wrong.
  
  The massive mistake they had made was to not take into account the flowers.
  
  The beautiful, inoffensive, smelly flowers.
  
  There were roses and hyacinths, tulips and poppies.
  
  They represented no danger for any Huntress as this criminal of rabbit tore their capture plans apart with the greatest ease.
  
  They should have been of no importance. After, if the evil males wanted to send them one hundred more killer Emus, it wasn't like they were going to be caught unaware by them, no?
  
  All of it had sounded fine and sound. Ellen wasn't sure Panther Kowalski had thought of it in the first place, but there was no denying that with the blessings of Lady Artemis, they were far more capable than any Quester, male or female, to notice if something tried to ambush them.
  
  And it was almost their undoing.
  
  The wind turned for a few seconds, and Ellen smelled the enemy.
  
  The monsters were absolutely reeking of blood, and possibly worse.
  
  "JENNA! ENEMY!"
  
  "What are you saying? There is nothing!"
  
  "I smell them! I swear it to you, I smell them! I don't know where they are, but-"
  
  A Legionnaire of Team Triumvirate was some ten metres away from her, raising a javelin to have another go at the rabbit.
  
  The male didn't even have the time to realise what was going on as half of his body disappeared into the giant fanged maw that had come out of nowhere.
  
  Ellen screamed.
  
  She wasn't the only one.
  
  "MONSTERS!"
  
  They were Huntresses.
  
  In three seconds, all the girls sworn to Lady Artemis had shot at least one silver arrow at the monster.
  
  It did absolutely nothing.
  
  The arrows hit dead on target...and the black-tainted fleece intercepted the projectiles like they were nothing but child's darts.
  
  In the meantime, the sheep finished devouring the Legionnaire of the Triumvirate.
  
  The sheep?
  
  Yes, it was a sheep. A sheep the size of a car, and a big one.
  
  A sheep that had fangs that could easily fit in the maw of a Giant White Shark.
  
  A sheep that now that it had devoured one of them, stared at them with an expression that was way too carnivorous to belong to a prey species.
  
  Suddenly, Ellen understood why the suspended catwalks had been installed at the centre of the arena, despite the rabbit showing no willingness to use them!
  
  "FLEE! WE MUST GET ON THE SUSPENDED PLATFORMS!"
  
  "What are you saying, we can deal with-"
  
  One by one, the sheep turned off their invisibility ability and charged.
  
  They were twelve of them, and each one was as big as the first.
  
  "FLEE, SISTERS!"
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, depths of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  "Oh, Gods!"
  
  Luke snorted.
  
  "The Gods aren't responsible for this disaster, I think we can blame Commodus for this one."
  
  "Yeah," Rico immediately approved. "But how the hell did they get carnivorous sheep the size of pick-ups?"
  
  "If I may?" a Telekhine raised his pincer-like fin.
  
  "By all means..." the son of Hermes answered.
  
  "There are many Cyclops clans of the Sea of Monsters who have disgusting ideas where their livestock is concerned. Too often, they 'forget' the cattle is not carnivorous, and they give them meat. Too often, that results in the animals dying. But sometimes...well, they begin to adapt to their new regime." The Telekhine cleared his throat, an expression of embarrassment on his face. "Clearly some sheep-owner Cyclops sold his flock to this insane Emperor. I have no idea how they gave them invisibility powers, though."
  
  "Just what we didn't need..." Annabeth murmured darkly.
  
  "You have a cap of invisibility," Dakota McDonald pointed out unhelpfully.
  
  "It can't work for more than a few minutes per day, and the enchantments can't be renewed past a few years," the daughter of Athena grouchily replied. "Giving this power to a piece of object can be achieved by a single blessing, and the area of effect is extremely limited. The monstrous sheep on the other hand gained this hereditary ability somewhat, and are able to use it as long as they're willing to be discreet."
  
  "I think it is their fleece," Clarisse said, arms crossed and glaring at the screens. "It is way too heavy for the tropical climate of the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "The perfect armour and an offensive weapon in one package," Richard Grant gritted his teeth as the Huntresses and the other women took refuge on the scaffolding at the centre of the arena. "Most of the body of these monsters is covered by this absurd wool, and it is able to blunt the impact of arrows and other weapons."
  
  This was bad. No, it was worse than that.
  
  "Two Legionnaires of Team Triumvirate died."
  
  "Yes." The sheep had screwed up their approach; clearly for all their cunning, they hadn't predicted the women to be able to take refuge at heights that the monsters couldn't reach.
  
  This had been the only thing that prevented a one-sided massacre, really. Something danced at the outer edge of his thoughts, almost out of reach, but the son of Hermes didn't manage to put a name on it.
  
  "Let's see the good side of things," one of the penguins began just as the sheep acknowledged their temporary failure and once again disappeared in the pasture, giving a fake impression of peacefulness to the arena under the bloodthirsty screams of the crowd. "All members of our team are alive, and they are, as we say at New Constantinople, going to 'bunker up' on the suspended platforms."
  
  "Their arrows are useless as long-range options," Leo pointed out.
  
  "Oh forget the idea of killing the sheep," the Emperor penguin dismissed the idea after clacking his beak several times. "They don't have the weapons for it. I mean, technically they have these long knives of silver the evil lesbian cult sometimes carry with them, but this means going at close-quarters against the carnivorous sheep. I don't think the Huntresses are so eager to die."
  
  "Ah," Annabeth coughed. "I believe I understand. You think the Huntresses must just wait the end of the challenge."
  
  "Yes, that's exactly right! I mean, it's not like they had much luck capturing the rabbit before."
  
  The animal in question had resumed eating its favourite regimen of berries and flowers, by the way.
  
  It seemed the 'Ceryneian Rabbit' - though many unpleasant nicknames had already been found to describe it - had no problem sharing the arena with invisible monsters at all.
  
  "It sucks, of course," Julian Skipper finished with a tone that was not at all sorry. "We aren't going to be able to get a third victory in three 'Labours'. But the other Team won none, lost more gladiators than we did, and looking at them right now, it doesn't look like they are going to be able to deliver a more impressive performance than us!"
  
  "True," Hylla agree with the 'amphibious-specialist' penguin. "It's been forty-five minutes since this challenge began. That means the Huntresses have just to wait for two hours and fifteen minutes for the 'Labour' to end, and for the carnivorous sheep to be removed from the arena."
  
  "Yes!" Asterius huffed, nostrils smoking in fury. The Minotaur had not been happy the Huntresses went against the orders, especially as it had denied him more 'fun'. It went without saying there had been more than a few insults from him as the servants of Artemis were humiliated one after another by the supersonic rabbit. "Then the short one will give me the permission to teach them a few things!"
  
  First Bianca di Angelo, then Asterius. The Huntresses were not going to have a pleasant evening, to be sure.
  
  "Still, Skipper is right." Miranda called out. "As long as the Huntresses don't do something really stupid, they can survive this. It's not good to lose one Labour, but we can win others."
  
  This sounded all too reasonable, to Luke's ears. Yet he was feeling they were all missing something big...
  
  20 January 2007, the Garden-Arena, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Ellen had preferred the minutes when the supersonic rabbit was humiliating them.
  
  Being completely ridiculous in front of a bloodthirsty crowd sucked. Enduring this while countless monsters leered at your half-naked body was, if anything, worse.
  
  But this had only been a humiliation. There had been no existential threat, though many of her sisters had had their ears bleeding, courtesy of this accursed rabbit.
  
  "What would Jackson do in such a situation?" Ellen thought aloud.
  
  "Don't speak of this odious male!" Panther Kowalski spat venomously a second after.
  
  Ellen and Jenna decided of a common accord to ignore her.
  
  "I thought it was evident." Her sister of the Hunt replied. "First, he would have sworn his eternal friendship to the sheep. Then he would have tried to ride them like in a stupid rodeo."
  
  "That sounds like this insane Demigod, all right." Ellen approved. "But I think we can agree that doing something like that is a bit too risky?"
  
  "Well," Jenna drawled, "unlike him and the sorceresses, we didn't bathe in Drakonic blood or in the Styx."
  
  And without that, going down the suspended catwalks was just suicide. Yeah, Huntresses were fast, skilled, and incredibly agile. It didn't mean a lot when the monsters below had enough weight to crush bones if they happened to collide with you.
  
  "The big problem is that we need to make a perfect fight against a sheep to have a chance of victory. The monsters only need one blow to knock us out."
  
  "Yeah," Jenna grimaced. "In hindsight, can we say that sending a group that has the same set of skills was a horrible idea?"
  
  "Panther took the best decision at the time!" Carina defended her.
  
  Funnily enough, no other sister of the Hunt felt the urge to support Panther Kowalski. Maybe because they had all realised this was a stupidity?
  
  "No, she didn't." There was a time to be polite, and this wasn't it. "Even if we were all willing to deny males entry in our group, Miranda Gardiner, Drew Tanaka, and Jade all had powers that could have been really useful against these abominations."
  
  "You would have tolerated a whore and a traitor?"
  
  "Yes," she replied as bluntly as the silver-haired Huntress. "There are times where success and survival come before everything else. It would have been an humiliation, but at least we could-"
  
  "AHEM!" The magnified voice of Commodus drowned the crowd baying and everything else. "WE ARE ALL VERY INTERESTED BY THIS LITTLE DEBATE OF TEAM ADJUDICATOR, BUT THERE IS A LABOUR GOING ON!"
  
  "Return to the Underworld where you belong!" Panther predictably shouted back.
  
  "I AM AFRAID I WILL HAVE TO DECLINE." The tyrannical Roman replied with a large smirk. "NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, I WANT TO INSIST THAT THIS LABOUR IS NEITHER A FORUM NOR A RESTING PLACE. THE SCAFFOLDING WAS NOT BUILT FOR YOU TO SPEND THREE HOURS PLAYING SOME SORT OF HIGH-ALTITUDE GAME. BEGINNING RIGHT NOW, FOR EVERY FIVE MINUTES WHERE YOU TAKE NO ACTION, THE HIGH JUDGE, BY WHICH I MEAN OF COURSE ME, THE GLORIOUS NEO HERCULES, IS GOING TO LOWER THE HEIGHT OF THIS INGENIOUS METALLIC STRUCTURE!"
  
  No. He had to be bluffing. It was a bluff, right?
  
  But there was the sound of enormous mechanisms suddenly being activated, and after more clanking sounds, the structure began to move.
  
  It was not difficult to see that the distance separating them from the ground was decreasing, not increasing.
  
  "Oh, by all the animals of the Austral Forests!"
  
  Inevitably, the change of fortune had not escaped the sheep. The monsters couldn't jump -probably because of the sheer mass of the fleece burdening them - but they could see, and they had noticed their prey was not so out of reach after all.
  
  They remained invisible, yes, but you could see the trails created in the pasture and the flowers being trampled by creatures which shouldn't exist.
  
  They were coming to eat them, and Ellen felt true fear, because this time, there was really no one to save them.
  
  "Target the eyes?"
  
  "Target the eyes," the young Huntress nodded, not liking how small of a target they were.
  
  "We have to focus on one monster!" Carina proclaimed.
  
  "This is the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" Jenna retorted. "Do you think the eleven other monsters are going to stay idle while you deal with the twelfth?"
  
  "What other situation there is, if you are so smart?"
  
  "I don't know, but at least-"
  
  The first sheep charged. The good news was that the first level of the catwalk was still too high. The very bad news was that though the monster's jump was ridiculously low, the view of its enormous maw was honestly terrifying.
  
  "We are so going to die..." this one came from one of the women of Team Triumvirate, but plenty of Huntresses were shivering. They were sworn to Artemis, but that didn't mean they had a perfect control over their emotions. The divine blessings they received in exchange of their sacred oath weren't that powerful.
  
  "I don't want to die! Vote of the Public!"
  
  Ellen almost snarled something approaching 'you're kidding me', but the other women seemed quite serious...and they, unlike Team Adjudicator, had not been warned to not use it.
  
  "Vote of the Public!" In mere seconds, one by one, the virgins of Team Triumvirate, their supposed enemies, all spoke the same words.
  
  "THE VOTE OF THE PUBLIC HAS BEEN DEMANDED...AND ACCEPTED!" By the horns of...this couldn't happen so fast. It had to be 'Vote of Commodus', to be granted so fast.
  
  There were suddenly parachutes over the arena, eight of them to be precise. No, ten, they were two more when the males brayed like donkeys.
  
  They all carried chests, and landed in a thunderous crash a few metres below where everyone stood.
  
  "INSIDE THE CHESTS YOU WILL FIND ITEMS OF GREAT POWER THAT WILL HELP YOU DEFEAT YOUR FOES! BUT SINCE THERE IS A PRICE TO PAY, YOU WILL GET POINTS OF PENALTY FOR THE HELP!"
  
  The carnivorous sheep, not understanding whatever had just happened, decided to withdraw for the time being, especially as the metallic structure continued to lose altitude.
  
  "OH, AND THE CHESTS ARE KEYED TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THE HELP! NO STEALING!"
  
  "As if we would steep so low," Panther Kowalski muttered. "Males."
  
  "I wonder what is inside these chests," Jenna spoke as their feet touched the grass again. "I suppose we are...new costumes?"
  
  Ellen could say she had expected many things, but not something more.
  
  "NEMEAN LIONS COSTUMES THIS TIME, CREATED WITH THE SKIN OF THE GREAT ANIMAL ONCE SLAIN BY THE MYTHICAL HERO! BUT I, THE GLORIOUS NEO HERCULES, HAVE SLAIN IT MORE THAN TWENTY TIMES, USING NOTHING BUT MY BARE HANDS!"
  
  "This is just another insult," Carina seethed. "I'm so glad I didn't request it. What is it supposed to do, help the sheep find us more easily?"
  
  It had to be said, the bloodthirsty Huntress was not wrong. The Hind costume was already an insult and an eyesore, but the Nemean Lion costume was shining with a flamboyant gold.
  
  Unless you were blind, you couldn't miss it.
  
  But all the women of Team Triumvirate were...it seemed the costume literally 'flowed' around their fingers to mould itself around their bodies.
  
  In mere seconds, they weren't Hind-costumed women; the eight girls who weren't of the Hunt looked like they were naked and painted in gold.
  
  And this moment of stupefaction was promptly cast aside, because the enemy decided they had no more tricks to stop them.
  
  "DISPERSE!" Panther screamed.
  
  For once, Ellen and Jenna obeyed the order.
  
  The next seconds were just murder.
  
  They jumped; they ran; they desperately tried to keep the maws and the fangs as far away from them as possible.
  
  It was a storm of violence and death.
  
  And finally, the sheep broke out.
  
  Ellen for a second didn't understand.
  
  Flora had just lost an arm, and Cordelia was screaming, having lost her left leg.
  
  Everyone was out of breath.
  
  But as eyes fell on Team Triumvirate, the reason of the withdrawal became obvious.
  
  One sheep was lying lifelessly, surrounded by flowers, its ugly fleece torn apart by what appeared to be thin, but powerful claws.
  
  And the moment Ellen watched the not-Huntresses, she realised the claws had indeed come from their costumes.
  
  Okay, clearly, there was more than indecency and insults to this Nemean Lion costume.
  
  "One down, eleven to go!" one of the girls participating as part of the team under Mark Antony laughed. "These costumes are incredibly cool!"
  
  "Yes, Myria is already healing from the blows she received!"
  
  The two surviving males of their teams didn't appear to share their joy, but then again, they hadn't been able to use the costumes. It seemed the men couldn't read the instructions, or were just too stupid-
  
  "Panther! Flora and Cordelia need healing!" Carina urged the Lieutenant of the Hunt. "And I think we may...we may need the costumes to win this Labour."
  
  "Out of the question!" Jenna shouted. "Come on, we don't have to-"
  
  "We must win this Labour! I am not going to tell the males we had a chance to be victorious, and we let it escape!"
  
  "But these are not-"
  
  "Vote of the Public!"
  
  Ellen opened her mouth to say there was a reason they had been warned-
  
  "They aren't going to listen," Jenna remarked with a grimace. "And this is bad."
  
  "I mean, yes, it is, but-"
  
  "The claws..."
  
  "Yes, the claws of the costume."
  
  "That's the thing, sister. I don't think they are really part of the costume for the women who used this poisoned 'gift'."
  
  The Huntress watched again the bodies of the girls who had killed the sheep. They looked indeed very dangerous, naked...and yes, there didn't seem to be any separation between the hands and the claws. It was like the hands of the female members of Team Triumvirate were turning into feline appendages!
  
  "STOP!" Ellen screamed. "THESE COSTUMES ARE ALL CURSED, WE ARE FALLING INTO A TRAP! STOP THIS-
  
  The song engulfed everything.
  
  The song was magnificent.
  
  The song was all the classic themes she loved. It was something epic and tragic at the same time.
  
  It was a choir of animals achieving purity of sound.
  
  It was-
  
  It was-
  
  Ellen turned her head with difficulty.
  
  It was the girl next to Commodus.
  
  She was singing.
  
  She was Charming them.
  
  It was not-
  
  It was not Charmspeak, it was Charm-song.
  
  And it urged everyone to call out the words for a chest to come to them. It pressed her to succumb and don one of the beautiful golden costumes.
  
  Ellen resisted.
  
  What had Jackson done. It was so hard to remember...it was so-
  
  Ellen screamed again, and drew her dagger, before stabbing her left hand with it.
  
  Instinctively, the pain disrupted all the charm of the melody, though the song remained temptation itself at the edge of her senses.
  
  It hurt. It hurt badly, soul and body.
  
  Jenna was feeling the same thing, clearly, her own dagger covered with her own blood.
  
  "We are too late..." her sister of the Hunt sobbed.
  
  When Ellen raised her eyes, it was to see the other ten Huntresses looking like they had taken a bath in molten gold.
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, Depths of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  "I would have preferred to steal sheep from the Callowan peasants." Bianca muttered. The hereditary enemies of Praes were quite vengeful and prompt to avenge centuries-old familial feuds at every opportunity, but seriously, even they hadn't managed to breed carnivorous sheep. The creation of chimerical monsters had always been a Praesi specialty.
  
  "This is going to be problem," Jade cleared her throat. "The Huntresses have fallen for-"
  
  "I can recognise a ritual when I see one, thank you very much," the daughter of Hades winced. "The symbolism may have escaped these blind and foolish girls, but not me."
  
  Inevitably, the remaining Huntresses which had stayed in the Waiting Room glared in her direction.
  
  The former Dread Empress glared back, and the girls all decided discretion was a quality to strive for.
  
  "Grant."
  
  "Yes?" the muscular son of Hercules answered.
  
  "Commodus clearly targets the virgin women of both teams, and he marked forty-nine Huntresses, Legacies, and Demigoddesses mustered on both teams. The symbolism can't be denied anymore. Do you know which myth-tale he is using for his purposes?"
  
  "I think he is using the Thespiades Myth."
  
  Bianca blinked.
  
  "The Thespia- what? I didn't see it in the twelve Labours of Hercules!"
  
  "That's because it isn't one, it is more an 'unofficial Labour' my father did. It's about the hunt of a lion, that many sometimes guess was the mate of the Nemean Lion killed during the First Labour. The hunt was particularly difficult, and Hercules returned each night to the palace of the local King, where each night the King's daughters went to his chamber, and...err..."
  
  "They let him enjoy all the hospitality the kingdom had to offer?" the former Dread Empress chose to use an indirect euphemism with a bored voice.
  
  "Yes, one can say that. There were fifty daughters, but Hercules 'only' slept with forty-nine of them. The stories don't say if he took one, seven, or forty-nine nights, but at the end, they were all pregnant and would eventually give him children. One gave him twins. And the fiftieth was told to become a priestess to some cult, though I don't know if she obeyed."
  
  Bianca sighed.
  
  "Okay, I see the symbol. The forty-nine virgin girls were spread out in the two teams, mostly as our 'reinforcements', and the fiftieth is by the Emperor's side."
  
  And where the hell had Commodus found such a powerful Demigoddess, by the way?
  
  The song was enthralling, and Team Adjudicator was only listening to it indirectly!
  
  "This girl is powerful," Hera calmly declared. "Is there something we can do?"
  
  "No. The rules are iron-clad, and even if I decided to disregard them, it would likely take a lot of time to fight my way through the defences of the Coliseum. And I'm not sure I can save any who were so stupid as to fall for such an obvious trap."
  
  "This is a bit unfair," Kimiko tried to defend the honour of the Hunt. "They had their back against the wall-"
  
  "Something was clearly wrong with this vicious' Vote of the Public', and Commodus wouldn't have handed out true skins of the Nemean Lions if there wasn't something at stake for him." The daughter of Hades growled threateningly.
  
  Anyway, it was too late.
  
  Ten Huntresses had let the enchanted 'skin' of gold colour cloak their body, dissolving the provocative Ceryneian Hind-themed piece of cloth.
  
  Already, you could say there was something wrong. Where before they had been hesitant to be seen at the beginning of the gladiatorial fight, now the Huntresses were standing proud, walking like supreme predators that had nothing to fear.
  
  The song was enthralling them, encouraging their worst impulses.
  
  They were beginning to transform.
  
  The high-definition of the screens was sufficient to see it.
  
  They were getting taller, and gaining in muscles and curves.
  
  But the most obvious part for the moment were their hands.
  
  They had claws growing out of them.
  
  It must also be noted that the two Huntresses who had lost a limb were in the process of regenerating it.
  
  "Yeah, I have to give it to you, Commodus; it was a well-executed trap. And you waited until Jackson was unable to control the situation before activating it."
  
  Would the Emperor have gone ahead if she'd been among those gladiators in the arena? In all likelihood, the answer was negative. The rabbit alone would have been a disappointment, but who could have guessed the truth?
  
  "Whatever happens at the end of this Labour, it won't be a total victory for Commodus." Annabeth Chase told her.
  
  "No, but eighteen girls out of forty-nine is a number far too high to my taste."
  
  20 January 2007, the Sun Palace, Olympus
  
  Apollo knew he was a super-pervert.
  
  In his defence, when you lived on Olympus and you were an immortal sired by Zeus, this was kind of inevitable.
  
  In fact, everyone on the Council had their perversions. The only question was how many of them you did have, and whether everyone else knew about them - the disturbing answer to the latter question was in general yes, and no one cared.
  
  And yes, the God of the Sun loved to disguise himself as a gladiator, all the while everyone stared at his perfect golden body.
  
  All of that was true.
  
  But Apollo was not delusional enough to believe that the girls sworn to his sister would choose to imitate him of their own will.
  
  Most of the time, they couldn't stand being in his presence. The idea of copying his exploits was not one that had likely entered their minds before today.
  
  "By Othrys' ruins, where did Commodus find such a powerful Demigoddess?" Artemis seethed next to him.
  
  "I don't know." Apollo admitted out loud. "I don't know, but she is at the heart of a very powerful ritual."
  
  "Why the hell didn't Perseus Jackson see it coming? This arrogant bastard always gloated before! Why didn't he put an end to it?"
  
  Apollo sighed.
  
  "Sister, whether Perseus Jackson did indeed see it coming or not, he was dragged out of the arena almost unconscious by his friend the Minotaur. He played no part in the regrettable minutes that led to your Huntresses volunteering for this folly."
  
  And it was entirely the Huntresses' fault. In an Adjudicator Game, you couldn't play a part if you were forced to. You had to do it of your own will. The Huntresses had chosen to thrown themselves in this diabolic trap.
  
  Regardless of one's feelings, one could say they were paying for it at the moment.
  
  "The voice is enthralling them..." The excuse of her sister sounded incredibly weak to his ears. The song had begun after the majority of the Huntresses made the worst mistake of their lives. And as the two girls who followed Perseus Jackson had proved, it was perfectly feasible to resist the voice-compulsion. It didn't feel good to stab yourself, but it clearly could be done.
  
  "And it encourages their worst impulses."
  
  More words were unnecessary; the Huntresses went to war against the carnivorous sheep.
  
  They were joined by the eight girls of Team Triumvirate.
  
  The result was a one-sided slaughter.
  
  After the first seconds, every girl had forsaken bows and daggers. The claws that were growing out of their hands seemed to be the only weapons they needed to for the fight, as the wool of the sheep was destroyed and the naked flesh underneath was pierced.
  
  The monsters counter-attacked, but it was obvious they were fighting alone. The Cyclops-bred sheep were alone and outnumbered, and some clearly tried to stay invisible while their 'fellows' were under attack.
  
  In the mean time, the Huntresses fought like a single pack, together with other women that they should have considered foes.
  
  No, not like a pack, Apollo corrected himself mentally.
  
  They were fighting like a pride.
  
  A pride of lionesses.
  
  And with every minute, with every sheep that fell, the description seemed more and more accurate.
  
  First the feet began to see claws grow out of them too.
  
  They were made of extremely high-quality steel, and they couldn't have been hidden on a costume anywhere.
  
  The shape of the ears was changing.
  
  With every opponent which died, the changes were accelerating. The feet were looking more and more like paws.
  
  But the most striking part was the communication.
  
  The battle began with the Huntresses and the other Roman girls giving themselves verbal instructions, suggestions and commands.
  
  By now, all of it had ceased, it was animal growling, purring, and roaring.
  
  The last sheep was the smartest of all. Seeing no hope, the monster tried to escape out of the arena, since the gates were still open.
  
  But this promised salvation was more than thirty metres away, and the Huntresses could hardly miss the large trail the panicking sheep made.
  
  Eighteen girls of the 'pride' fell upon it, and it was like seeing a bull being torn apart by a pack of wolves.
  
  Apollo gave a glance in the direction of his sister. She was livid.
  
  It didn't get any better.
  
  This last push had given one more change to the girls who had been before entering part of two different teams: they had fangs instead of teeth now.
  
  And under the loud approval of the bloodthirsty crowd, the enthralled Huntresses began to feast on the sheep's carcass.
  
  The centaurs loved it.
  
  "Artemis-"
  
  "This is not over! They are going to resist; their vows are both shield and bow!"
  
  The word went white for a second, and three seconds later, the God of the Sun could look at a massive hole in what had been in his opinion the most splendidly decorated ceiling of all Olympus.
  
  "Come on, I had just redecorated last week!"
  
  20 January 2007, the Arena, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Jackson said a thousand stupid things every day, but there were many things where the son of Poseidon had been dead right.
  
  One of them was that the number three was important.
  
  The trap of the Third Labour had come in three stages.
  
  The first had been the humiliation.
  
  Then there had been fear and panic.
  
  And at the end? At the end, there was utter despair.
  
  The song had stopped.
  
  In the stands, Commodus had hidden his chief weapon behind a cloak of silver and gold.
  
  Ellen wanted to believe it was because the singer was tired, but her experience told her it was because what the megalomaniacal Emperor had achieved everything he wanted.
  
  Ellen and Jenna had bandaged the wounds they had taken stabbing themselves to avoid being enthralled like the others.
  
  They were alone.
  
  Okay, not perfectly alone, the two other surviving male Legionnaires of Team Triumvirate were by their side.
  
  For all the good it was going to do.
  
  The Huntresses and the other girls...they were lost.
  
  Ellen wanted to believe that whatever had happened to them could be reversed, but after the first sheep they had killed, it had become progressively worse.
  
  As the last sheep died, everyone who had committed the massive mistake of accepting this 'Lion Costume' was very much looking like a bipedal hybrid of lion and human. They had been cursed to take the form of an animal.
  
  And Ellen knew which animal Commodus had chosen for them.
  
  It wasn't like he had made a mystery of it, after all.
  
  The Nemean Lion. Or in that particular case, the Nemean Lioness.
  
  The Huntress didn't remember the specific myth, but there was no doubt about what must have happened in the preparations of this trap: Commodus had slaughtered several Nemean Lionesses and imbued the essence of said monsters into the parody of costumes.
  
  Provocation after provocation, and they had fallen for it.
  
  Yeah, the Ceryneian Hind 'costumes' had been completely offensive, but because they were that and absolutely indecent, the derange result of a perverted mind, no one had really planned for a second set of costumes to be handed out.
  
  Jackson and several others of the Suicide Squad would have seen the trap coming and avoided it before it was too late.
  
  But the twelve girls who had come into the arena? They had seen the trap coming far too late, and of them, only Ellen and Jenna remained.
  
  "Panther..." her sister began as their former leader came forwards.
  
  The Lieutenant of the Hunt had massively changed.
  
  She had always been a fit girl, all of the Huntresses were.
  
  But Panther Kowalski had been about fifteen in looks, not that it mattered most of the time, since they were immortal unless they died in battle.
  
  She had also been silver-haired, though everyone knew she dyed it regularly.
  
  The figure which advanced towards Jenna and Ellen had golden hair with only a few streaks of silver left.
  
  She was taller, at least half a head worth of height gain. She was more muscled, and she had way bigger breasts.
  
  And yes, she had claws of the colour of steel, both on her hands and feet...though the term 'paws' felt more appropriate.
  
  The pace was controlled, the moves were akin to a content feline.
  
  But Ellen saw it was all a lie.
  
  The Huntress watched the eyes of the Lieutenant, and while the irises had stunned to a steely shade there too, Ellen could all too clearly see the horror in them.
  
  "Ellen...Jenna..."the words were something between a purr and a growl, and she was sure their expressions must accurately reflect what they felt in their hearts.
  
  "Resist!" Jenna urged. "You are stronger than you believe! And the song has stopped!"
  
  The lioness-human growled.
  
  "I...I am...too strong...and my body...my body rebels. All the instincts...too strong..."
  
  Ellen didn't say anything. What could she say anyway?
  
  Yeah, it had been a stupid mistake, and it had closed on them worse than what had happened to Iphigenia in the Clash of the Titans.
  
  "Too strong..." the steel eyes continued to stare at them, pleading, urging them to act, but what could they do? If their skin had the properties of the Nemean Lion, they had no weapons capable to give them mercy kills right here. "He...he wants to push us...to join the pride too."
  
  "We will die first," Jenna retorted immediately.
  
  "No...you will...too strong..." Panther's last silver streaks in her hair were disappearing, leaving only a mane of gold behind. "It will be...you...sisters...you...avenge us. Kill Commodus...kill him. We...apologise."
  
  There was an inhuman growl, and Panther Kowalski's body shook, as if she had been electrocuted.
  
  "As long as you can hold to your oaths, there is hope! Don't lose hope! We will find a solution! We have done more outlandish things with the Suicide Squad!"
  
  "You...foolish...girl..." Panther growled. "There is...a last sacrifice. It was...so obvious."
  
  "But-"
  
  "Go!" The eyes of the Huntress turning into a lioness had the horror replaced by ferocity. "Go and climb up! Save your lives to fight for another day...sisters."
  
  20 January 2007, Waiting Room of Team Adjudicator, depths of the Coliseum
  
  The last act of the tragedy was greeted by solemn silence.
  
  Ellen and Jenna had the good sense to obey Panther's last command and make an incredible sprint before climbing towards the top of the suspended platforms.
  
  The two other surviving Legionnaires of Team Triumvirate didn't have that reflex.
  
  Worse than that, they were burdened with the heavy equipment they had grabbed back after everyone abandoned the elevated scaffolding the first time.
  
  It was not a battle; it was an execution.
  
  The claws of the transforming girls cut through the shields with ease, and what they did to the bare flesh of the gladiator-looking soldiers of Mark Antony was...bad.
  
  There were only two mercies: it was quick, and the girls didn't eat their victims. Yeah, after what they had done to the last sheep, Dakota freely admitted the worse could be expected.
  
  But it seemed even Commodus thought that cannibalism was a step too far.
  
  "At least it is over..." the son of Bacchus commented sadly. And yeah, there was no doubt each Team had lost, and lost very badly. Team Adjudicator had managed to do better than Team Triumvirate, but this was a bit like saying like you did better trapped in quicksand than someone who had been bitten by a thousand snakes.
  
  It was just a difference of failure, and how dramatic the fall.
  
  "It is not over," Annabeth Chase was prompt to crush even this tiny hope. "Did you forget? There was something one had to do to win this Labour."
  
  Dakota needed a couple of seconds to remind what the daughter of Athena was talking about.
  
  "The supersonic rabbit?"
  
  "Yeah," the grey-eyed Demigoddess confirmed. "Or as I would rather call it, the last symbol to be sacrificed before the transformation is complete and the oaths sworn to Artemis break."
  
  Dakota didn't think of himself as a genius, but you didn't need any clues to realise what Annabeth was saying.
  
  "To win, they were supposed to capture the rabbit." A rabbit, which, from all evidence, had been created with the blood of the Ceryneian Hind, one of Artemis' sacred animals - or monsters, depending on your point of view.
  
  But if they killed it...
  
  "Can they do it? I mean, yes, it would work, but they couldn't exactly do it the first time. I think we can all remember how much of a fiasco it was one hour ago."
  
  "But this time," Ethan pointed out, "they have an advantage."
  
  "And this is?"
  
  "Unlike I greatly miss my guess? They are what they eat, thanks to Commodus. And they just ate a sheep. A carnivorous sheep which could turn invisible."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Oh, I don't think it is a permanent ability," the son of Nemesis 'reassured' them. "But it will likely hold for as long as they have the sheep's flesh in their bellies. It's far more time than they need to hunt the rabbit."
  
  It should have been a joke, but Ethan wasn't exactly known for them.
  
  And as the bipedal lionesses went to war, the events proved the treacherous lieutenant' of Jackson was right.
  
  There were many golden-skinned Huntresses to be sure...but some were clearly nowhere to be seen.
  
  The supersonic rabbit once more dashed to the other end of the arena.
  
  But when it stopped, two of the girls ambushed it in a storm of claws and fangs.
  
  The coordination was, if Dakota was honest with himself, absolutely frightening.
  
  The rabbit lost its head before it realised it had been under threat.
  
  And then the eighteen girls approached its remains, before all greedily placed drops of blood in their mouths.
  
  "And now it is over." The daughter of Hades said grimly.
  
  There was an enormous blast of magic, followed by an awful shrieking sound that forced Dakota and all the Suicide Squad to place hands on their ears.
  
  It didn't last long.
  
  But as the smoke dissipated, the result was obvious.
  
  Before, there had been eighteen transforming girls, all looking like they had been dropped into a lake of golden paint, and having gained several animal parts in addition to that.
  
  Now there were eighteen gigantic Nemean Lionesses in the arena.
  
  They were all feline and lethality incarnate.
  
  They were as big as the carnivorous sheep had been.
  
  "TEAM TRIUMVIRATE AND TEAM ADJUDICATOR HAVE UNFORTUNATELY FAILED!" Commodus proclaimed as the stadium exploded in triumphant cheers, the centaurs approving the victory of the narcissist Emperor. "I, THE GLORIOUS NEO HERCULES, DECLARE THERE ARE NO VICTORS! AND AS PENALTY, I CLAIM THESE NEMEAN LIONESSES FOR MY HOUSE!"
  
  Dakota knew they had won two Labours.
  
  He could concede they had done better than Team Triumvirate.
  
  And Ellen and Jenna had survived with their minds and bodies unaltered the Third Labour.
  
  All of that was true, and it didn't make the taste of defeat any less bitter.
  
  For Commodus had handed them a significant defeat, there was no use denying it.
  
  "We will have to ensure there is no repeat of this." He said weakly.
  
  "Yes," Luke said grimly. "I don't think we can afford more screw-ups of that scale in the next days..."
  
  20 January 2007, Bedroom Level of the Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  The pain was gone when he woke up.
  
  There was no time to ask if the Golden Fleece was used, as Lou Ellen's lips were on his.
  
  Soon they were kissing as if their life depended on it, and maybe his was.
  
  It was a long moment of kissing, and it was good.
  
  Of course, all good things had an end.
  
  "One day, your crazy stunts will kill you." The daughter of Hecate managed to articulate, out of breath and her noble visage flushed with excitation.
  
  "One day, but not today," Perseus replied cheekily.
  
  Predictably, Lou Ellen huffed, as had been his intention.
  
  "You're incorrigible."
  
  "And you love me for it."
  
  The smile of his lover vanished, and the former Tyrant immediately noticed.
  
  "Something bad happened while I was unconscious, I take it."
  
  "Yes. We lost ten Huntresses in the Third Labour."
  
  The son of Poseidon raised an eyebrow.
  
  "I don't remember ever authorising Bianca to purge that many, no matter how irritating they were. Her Dark Majesty knows we must avoid antagonise Artemis in deliberate ways. So many Huntresses dying at once will cause trouble in the future."
  
  "They aren't dead. They have been transformed into Nemean Lionesses, and claimed by Commodus, along with eight other girls of Team Triumvirate."
  
  There were plans of the enemy he did see coming ten kilometres away.
  
  This one wasn't one of them.
  
  "Remarkable," he began to think furiously. "Obviously, the Nemean Lion is the symbol and favourite animal of the narcissist Emperor. But he would have needed more weight behind this scheme. And there are no Nemean Lionesses in the Twelve Labours."
  
  "But apparently, there is an unofficial myth, a so-called 'Thirteenth Labour', where Heracles was said to have hunted a lion during an unspecified amount of time." Lou Ellen filled the missing gaps. "Each day, Heracles hunted, and every night, he fornicated with plenty of girls, the daughters of the local King, who were remembered later as the Thespiades."
  
  It all explained so much.
  
  "Let me guess. One of the possible durations for the entire hunt was seven days." It was the duration of the Adjudicator Games, after all.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "And since I suppose Annabeth counted all the girls who were given the Ceryneian Hind costumes, can I also humbly hazard the hypothesis that they were forty-nine overall, not counting certain unsuitable girls of the Suicide Squad, to be granted these indecent costumes?"
  
  "Your deduction mode is incredibly fast." The daughter of Hecate complimented him.
  
  "Once the opponent has revealed his grand plan, it is not that difficult to add two plus two." The former Tyrant winced. "The only reason that I don't understand is why Commodus did such a half-baked job. Eighteen is not forty-nine. Yes, it is a serious defeat, but it's not even half of the effectives he must transform into his leonine slaves. And we will be on our guard now."
  
  "I believe this has to do with the Demigoddess by his side. He unleashed her when there was a possibility the Huntresses were going to jump out of his trap. As a result, only Ellen and Jenna were able to truly save their skins."
  
  "A Demigoddess?"
  
  "A powerful Demigoddess. You are gifted when it comes you particular brand of Charmspeak, but her, she...she simply sings, and the enthrallment is incredible. I suppose we should call it Charm-song, not Charmspeak."
  
  "All right, I didn't see that coming either." Commodus was either way more cunning than in his worst predictions, or he had way more backers than anyone had ever imagined. One unfortunately didn't exclude the other.
  
  "That's not encouraging."
  
  "No, it isn't." Perseus jumped outside of his bed.
  
  "You have to rest." Lou Ellen told him in a resigned voice.
  
  "I have to return to the Suicide Squad and take back command," he corrected with a very serious expression. "After such a massive defeat, it is essential to calm tempers, restore the spirits of everyone, and provide some brand of charismatic leadership. The day of rest isn't there for our health, my dear sorceress lieutenant. It is there to make sure the Teams fall apart psychologically. That way, our enemy will have to do nothing but pick up the broken remnants and sail to victory unopposed."
  
  20 January 2007, Refectory of the Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Miranda's senses had been enormously sharpened by becoming the Champion of Calypso.
  
  As such, she felt the danger coming seconds before many members of the Suicide Squad.
  
  It engulfed you into a storm promising nothing but craziness and pain.
  
  It gave you the urge to run away as fast as your legs allowed.
  
  It was intimidating in the extreme.
  
  It lasted five seconds, and then Perseus Jackson entered the refectory, Lou Ellen on his heels.
  
  And he was grinning.
  
  The Champion of the Third Queen of Hell flinched.
  
  This was not the grin 'I am going to play a ridiculous joke on you'.
  
  It wasn't the 'I know something you don't' expression.
  
  It was the 'you sew the wind, and now you're going to reap the whirlwind' vicious smile.
  
  Ellen the Huntress cleared her throat.
  
  Miranda was impressed by her courage.
  
  It took some guts facing him when the son of Poseidon was clearly on the warpath.
  
  "We are sorry. We screwed up everything."
  
  "Oh, no need to congratulate yourself so highly, Huntress." Perseus snarked. "This honour belongs to Lieutenant Panther Kowalski. She truly managed to 'screw up everything', using your admirable words. You? You are guilty of stupidity, mutiny, recklessness, charging without a plan, and abominable arrogance and heroic self-righteousness."
  
  The evil red eye stared at Ellen and Jenna.
  
  "This is the moment where you're giving me a reason to not kill you for the absurd amount of trouble you've caused."
  
  The two Huntresses who had travelled with them since the start of this Great Quest wisely decided to stay silent.
  
  Alas, the other survivors of this disaster, the few they had been given as 'reinforcements' but had not participated in the Third Labour, were not so wise.
  
  "The rules of this Adjudicator Game forbid you from killing us!" one of the idiotic members of the evil lesbian cult snapped back.
  
  "Give yourself a slap," all the Huntresses that were not Jenna and Ellen slapped themselves.
  
  And for the first time, fear returned, disintegrating their anger.
  
  "You seem to be under a bit of a misunderstanding, servants of the Hunt and the Moon," the black-haired Demigod spoke slowly, but malice threatened to grow out of control behind his eyes at any moment. "The orders I have from the Gods and Goddesses of Olympus are to ensure the liberation of the God of War, and the failure of the Triumvirate plans to usurp the Olympians. There is nowhere mentioned I must especially care if you end up dead at my feet."
  
  "Lady Artemis-"
  
  "Your Goddess has no power here," the words were cruel, but painfully accurate. "And my previous words were a bit misleading, of course. These Adjudicator Games won't see you die."
  
  The glare sent to the Huntresses was incredibly venomous.
  
  "In case, you have any doubt after the Third Labour, Commodus' chief goal is to make you his sex slaves. And if you continue the litany of stupidity that led to the latest defeat, this is exactly what is going to happen."
  
  Miranda grimaced inwardly. There were unpleasant fates waiting for many Demigods, she had never been under any illusion she was different. And the Possession of the Sand Drakon had been unimaginably painful.
  
  But what the transformed Huntresses were no doubt experiencing as prisoners of the megalomaniacal Emperor...no one deserved that.
  
  There was a cough, and Jade intervened.
  
  "I admit they paid for their folly a thousand times during the Labour and what is no doubt happening right now, but as stupid and reckless Panther and the others have been," the former Huntress and current Champion of Khione declared, "it is in our best interest to free them as soon as possible."
  
  "I won't deny this is true." Perseus conceded with a shrug. "Alas, there is a little problem. We can't assault Commodus' lair, that's against the rules. These girls have broken all their previous allegiances when they ate the Ceryneian Rabbit, there's no return back possible for them."
  
  "Couldn't we try to challenge him? Raise the stakes and bargain that the price will be liberty for all the girls?" Jenna tried.
  
  Jackson gave her a look of pity.
  
  "Lou Ellen, be sure to remind me if I ever forget that the Huntresses are horrible negotiators."
  
  "Duly noted."
  
  "No, Jenna," Perseus continued, "Commodus has zero reason to accept any sort of bargain. He has gained his first victory, and the only stakes he is likely to accept are those that let the rest of the forty-nine girls fall without any risk whatsoever for him."
  
  "I see what you meant about this Emperor being a predator," Annabeth noted.
  
  "He's a very unpleasant individual, like many narcissists," their leader acknowledged. "Unfortunately, he also has nine remaining Labours. He is naturally impatient, otherwise he wouldn't have tried his stunt at the Third Labour, and I think I will be able to use it against him. But that's still nine times we must go in the arena and he has the opportunity to murder us."
  
  "That still doesn't explain how you are going to explain it to Lady-"
  
  "Huntress," the Charmspeak was used once more, "you are under a severe misapprehension that your mistress wasn't watching the events live, much like we did in the Waiting Room. She has already made her own opinion of this reckless display of idiocy, and I can't change it."
  
  "You could have saved them!"
  
  "No, I couldn't. Or are we going to imagine your friends of the Hunt could have survived an explosion of Greek Fire like I did? Now shut up, I have heard my quota of stupidity for the day."
  
  The Huntresses shut up, without any Charmspeak involved.
  
  "Now let's begin again, because I think my previous words did not enter some very insolent heads. Under no circumstances are you to use the 'Vote of Commodus', or as it is better known, the 'Vote of the Public'. Am I clear, or must I let Bianca crucify someone before it is taken seriously?"
  
  20 January 2007, the Dove Palace, Olympus
  
  The call arrived two hours earlier than Venus had thought it would.
  
  "I thought Commodus would prevent you from communicating with outside parties," the Goddess of Love didn't bother asking how he had obtained the codes to contact her.
  
  "He is certainly jamming every frequency incredibly hard, both the divine and non-divine. But it is not against the rules to try...and succeed."
  
  "You must have had help."
  
  "The Telekhines weren't invited just because they are helpful with providing weapons of all kind. One of them also happens to be an expert in electronic warfare."
  
  Venus breathed out. Yes, this explained why they were so many sea monsters in Team Adjudicator.
  
  "She is your daughter, isn't she?"
  
  The fateful question arrived as fast as she had feared.
  
  "Yes, yes she is. I won't ask how you arrived to this conclusion."
  
  "Good. Charmspeak has always been something tied to you, either in your Greek or Roman aspects. And it isn't a great stretch to admit that if it can used when you speak, it can be used for singing too; it is just way more difficult for the user."
  
  Venus waited.
  
  "Why didn't you raise her?"
  
  "You know the problem we immortals have with the Ancient Laws." She replied defensively.
  
  "Don't insult my intelligence, please, Lady Venus."
  
  "I am not insulting anyone," she gritted her perfect white teeth. "You know the cruel dilemma the Ancient Laws demands of us. We can technically raise our children ourselves, but we have to make them full members of our House in exchange. This means a place in the succession to our Thrones, with all the privileges and rights our true immortal children possess."
  
  Indeed, it was so advantageous that when these Demigods and Demigoddesses became adult, the Olympian having sired them formally requested Zeus to grant them eternal youth and immortality, making them lesser deities.
  
  "But in exchange, I would have had to bring both father and daughter with me, taking them with me completely, removing them from the world of the mortals. And the father of my daughter was too fragile for this revelation."
  
  "California? I think I heard her singing in a famous movie."
  
  "Her father is a famous Hollywood actor. He often takes her with him to the movie shooting...or he took her to them, I suppose."
  
  "Blackmail?"
  
  "This is my guess too. While I admit this was a while ago, I visited my lover when he played the role of flamboyant gladiator to a peplum, it didn't take me very long to notice all the Praetorians watching him."
  
  "They have been dealt with, I suppose?"
  
  "They are on their way to the Fields of Punishment. I asked Hades to go wild; their crimes deserve nothing else."
  
  Venus bit her lip, and ignored the splendour that was her palace. Most of the time, the pleasing distractions were very welcome. Today, they were eyesores, and no amount of sex with Vulcan could make the awful news more tolerable.
  
  "I'm hunting the other parties responsible for this as we speak." The female secretary involved in the plot had already been incinerated for the sheer scale of this betrayal. Marrying him in exchange for betraying her precious daughter? There were things that would never be forgiven by any mother, and certainly not an Olympian mother in fury. "But as I'm sure you have already thought behind your grinning mask, this is trying to extinguish the fire of the castle when all the owners have already been kidnapped."
  
  "It is a good comparison, yes." There was a couple of seconds of silence. "Neither Commodus nor his generous benefactors could have reached the River of Hellish Oaths. In the unlikely case they did, security is maximal right now. But there are other rivers, like the Lethe, who have been left unguarded for several months very recently. You have the timetable of the affair. Was there an opportunity?"
  
  Venus didn't bother to check a calendar or verify her sources. She had done the calculation the moment she began to dig in this sordid attack on what was hers.
  
  "There was."
  
  The sound at the other end of the communication line was one of displeasure and frustration. Venus could almost taste it.
  
  "I freely admit I should have been more attentive, but the Fates really don't like when we focus too much on one child without formal claiming. And with the resources her father could give her, she was well integrated in her father's social circles, and thus less at risk from monster attacks."
  
  Ironies of all ironies, the studios of Hollywood were one of the safest places of the world for Demigods and Demigoddesses. While no one raised an eyebrow when the giants and the other non-humans walked in plain sight courtesy of the Mist and all the movies, the monsters themselves policed each other, loving the income they got from loaning their services to the film-makers way too much.
  
  "As for Charm-singing, yes, I gave her the potential, but many of my other children had it in the last century, though not exactly to the same degree. I didn't think she would manage to develop it to the extent I heard during the Third Labour."
  
  And yes, it cost her to admit her mistakes, no matter how few persons would know of this highly-secret exchange.
  
  "Well, this is a massive mess." A tongue clicked. "You know that even assuming the ritual fails and the Great Quest is successful, the Goddess of the Hunt is going to make it her mission to kill your daughter."
  
  "I am not naive." Usurpation was a very bad affair, and the only reason Diana had not already tried to storm her temple was that she was likely busy whining in front of Jupiter. "I thought the problem with Isis was going to be manageable, and now another Roman Emperor decides to be a thorn for everything I love."
  
  Yes, there would be more punishments once her wrath was unleashed. But it could not recreate everything that had been lost.
  
  "Can you save my daughter?"
  
  "All depends," the answer was not reassuring at all, "what is your definition of 'save'."
  
  21 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  It was incredible the effects of seven hours of good sleep could have on your mental health.
  
  Naturally, Luke could only acknowledge it came with both good news and bad news.
  
  The good: after yesterday and the terrifying Labours they had either to participate or to watch, the Suicide Squad needed a good night of sleep very badly.
  
  The bad: the aforementioned hours of recovery had replenished Perseus Jackson's stores of craziness.
  
  The moment he saw the grin, the son of Hermes knew someone was going to suffer.
  
  The first 'volunteer', sadly for him but to the relief of everyone else, was Michael Yew, son of Apollo.
  
  Or as he was better known now-
  
  "Good morning, oh Blue Roger Rabbit!" The grin of the son of Poseidon was so large there might be astronauts on the Moon able to see it.
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  Luke tried very hard not to laugh. He really, really tried. Seriously.
  
  But try not show any amusement when a Demigod-turned-rabbit tried to don a tunic and epically failed.
  
  Yes, this was a challenge.
  
  "Oh, excuse me. I meat of course Blue Roger Hare!"
  
  Yes, the leader of the Suicide Squad didn't know when to stop pushing.
  
  Please pretend to be surprised.
  
  "I HATE YOU!"
  
  "Now, now, no need to twist your long ears...I mean, they are very long..."
  
  Luke began to giggle uncontrollably.
  
  "CHANGE ME BACK AT ONCE!"
  
  "Let's prescribe him a regimen of carrots. I'm told it will do wonders where his anger issues are concerned!"
  
  This time Luke lost completely control and began to howl in laughter.
  
  "SEE? SEE! I AM CURSED AND EVERYONE IS LAUGHING! I AM A DEMIGOD, NOT A PARODY OF A RABBIT!"
  
  "Ah, hmm...that is to say, you are a hare, not a rabbit, Michael. And I advise you to banish the word 'rabbit' from your vocabulary. The surviving Huntresses, for some reason, are not fond of this type of animal anymore..."
  
  "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"
  
  "If you mean by it that I saved your life and ensured you are a very healthy hare instead of one cooked by Greek Fire, I plead guilty," the son of the Earthshaker answered shamelessly. "You're welcome."
  
  The long ears really went out of control, and it was really fascinating to see a rabbit sweat in confusion.
  
  And yes, all this meant Luke had a lot of trouble to stop laughing hysterically.
  
  "Please, Jackson. Use the Golden Fleece and change me back!"
  
  "Lou Ellen already used it on you yesterday evening." Perseus said flatly.
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  Yeah, what the hell?
  
  Jackson emitted an exasperated sigh.
  
  "Does someone listen to my explanations sometimes?"
  
  "It depends," Luke immediately replied, "if you count the monologues or not."
  
  That repartee earned him a snort and an amused glare.
  
  "Then let me repeat what should have been an evidence for each and every miscreant of the Sea of Monsters. The Golden Fleece is incredibly potent, and it possesses incredible healing powers. But it has limits. It can bring you back from the edge of death, oh yes. But it can't reverse divinely-ordained transformations, or transformations at all, as long the God or the Goddess isn't willing to lift it and it doesn't cause massive health issues to the victim of the aforementioned transformation. It also can't return someone already dead. Well, technically it will heal the body, but all it will result into is a perfectly preserved corpse, since the soul will have already journeyed to the Underworld."
  
  Luke blinked.
  
  "So hypothetically speaking, for a certain pine tree-"
  
  "Completely hypothetically speaking, Thalia Grace is not dead, and the Master of Olympus is willing to lift the curse that transformed her into a pine tree. Assuming we are able to survive this Great Quest, she will be fine. She will have lost a few years of her life-expectancy, in all likelihood, and will need a lot of therapy. No need for concern."
  
  Luke breathed out in relief.
  
  Michael Yew exploded in hare fury...which was way more funny than threatening.
  
  "I'm sure we can all rejoice and no, wait, would you find a solution TO CHANGE ME BACK TO MY HUMAN BODY?"
  
  Perseus looked he was almost ready to begin a new round of jokes, but Luke's expression was enough to discourage him. At least, the son of Hermes hoped it was.
  
  "I can't. I don't have that sort of power. Lou Ellen and Bianca tried while you were asleep, but as I guessed, the transformation was made by a curious artefact that was hidden somewhere inside the Thracian Administratum."
  
  The master thief of the Suicide Squad grimaced.
  
  "And it likely was destroyed when all the Greek Fire detonated, I take it."
  
  "Precisely," Perseus confirmed.
  
  "I was right! This is your fault!"
  
  The mad Demigod rolled his eyes.
  
  "As I said before, my dear long-eared rock-star, if I hadn't done what I did, you would have either been devoured by man-eating horses, or you would have been incinerated by Greek Fire. One way or another, I doubt anyone would have transformed you back in Hell, and that was exactly where you were going to travel in these scenarios."
  
  Jackson clicked his fingers idly.
  
  "The good news, such as it is, can be summed-up like this: I'm pretty sure that the artefact responsible for your problem is one of Circe's which arrived somehow on the black market before Commodus purchased it. Hare and turkey transformations targeting a male population is exactly the sort of thing the Immortal Sorceress of the Spa loves to create."
  
  "And the bad news," Luke finished, "is I suppose that given your crazy stunts, the Lady of C.C's Spa may not be willing to change me back?"
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "Usually, you're far more brilliant than this, Luke Castellan. No, the problem isn't here. Michael will have to convince Lou Ellen to plead his cause in front of her half-sister. That's why you don't anger daughters of Hecate, by the way."
  
  Damn it, Luke really hated it when the son of Poseidon was making a very logical argument...
  
  "No, the real problem is that the Immortal Sorceress isn't here today, and won't be able to cast a reverse-transformation spell until the Adjudicator Games are over. As a result, you, my long-eared and blue-furred lieutenant, will have to stay in your hare body for a few more days and survive the Labours, much as the rest of the Suicide Squad will."
  
  "I WILL KILL YOU JACKSON!"
  
  The judo move saw Jackson hold an angry hare by the ears, the Demigod-turned-animal being immobilised on his back.
  
  "We are really going to have to work on your anger issues, oh Hare of Apollo! Fortunately, I know a very good psychologist to help you! May I present you Doctor Perseus Jackson, Expert in all sort of Mental Health Problems?"
  
  "Turning everyone crazy does not make you a Doctor in that field!"
  
  "Details, details..."
  
  21 January 2007, the Morgue of the Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Yes, he had chosen the morgue for this unplanned strategic meeting.
  
  Yes, it was disrespectful for the dead.
  
  But it was the least likely place they were going to be spied upon - though he had placed many Telekhine-made devices nevertheless, being unwilling to take any risks.
  
  And honestly, Perseus wanted to verify if the proverb 'dead men tell no tales' was indeed accurate, after all.
  
  "Why are we here, and why is there only four of us?" Richard Grant began with arms crossed, showing once again he was the more muscular member of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "You are here to learn of some important things, and the reason there is so few of the Suicide Squad is because I didn't want to attract too much attention, since we are spied upon at all times," the son of Poseidon replied bluntly. "Now we are going to speak of Commodus' plans."
  
  "I think we know very much what his plans are," Lou Ellen told him in a disgusted tone. "This Emperor is a rapist. Please tell me we are going to make his death a very long and painful one."
  
  "All in good time," mind you, Commodus irritated him so much that if there wasn't an ongoing Adjudicator Game, Perseus would have already organised a little accident involving a high cliff and some man-eating monsters. "First we need to isolate him, and exploit his overconfidence."
  
  "Is it overconfidence," Ethan asked quietly, "when he has accomplished part of his goals?"
  
  "It is overconfidence," the former Tyrant reassured him. "Believe me, if for a stupid reason I decided to go for something as a High Judge, unless I wanted to play with my opponents for several days, I wouldn't do the number of mistakes he did. Revealing your master plan to your enemies when they are in a position to do something about it sounds incredibly funny in theory, but it can spectacularly backfire along the way."
  
  "How so?" Lou Ellen asked, clearly interested by the subject.
  
  "For his first step to be complete, Commodus must clearly trap and enslave all the forty-nine girls he has marked as his 'New Thespiades'. It is not an 'if', he has to do it now that the process has begun. If at the end of the Twelfth Labour there are not forty-nine Nemean Lionesses bound to him, the ritual he began will blow up impressively in his face."
  
  "That's all very fine," Grant said unconvinced, "but he can repeat the process he did yesterday several times. He tricks you to descend in the arena to save the day, and strike in the Labour which follows with all his traps, ensuring the Huntresses and the other girls fall one by one."
  
  As, the foolishness of the inexperienced Demigods.
  
  "Yes, about that. I'm afraid that one, the Huntresses will be way more reluctant 'volunteering' for something that means being enslaved to a madman. And I, being a generous soul, have given some thought to other Labours. Furthermore, we will have other Demigods and Demigoddesses to unleash. And please remember that for the Narcissist-in-chief, the clock is ticking. There are nine Labours left, and he didn't kill as many of us as he wanted."
  
  "That assumes eliminating us is part of his plan."
  
  Perseus snorted.
  
  "Grant, Commodus didn't go all that trouble with the Stymphalian Emus just for the pleasure of it. The first two Labours were really planned to create a maximal amount of carnage, and cripple both Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate. Once the arena will be utterly saturated by the bloodbath, the despair, and the agony of monsters and Demigods, the megalomaniac intends to pursue the destruction of Mark Antony, and then devour the God of War himself."
  
  "This sounds dangerous," Lou Ellen remarked, "and I'm using your standards here."
  
  "It is more than that. As I said before, Commodus tries to put forwards a parody of the unofficial 'Thespiades Labour'. That means having the forty-nine girls enslaved and raped until they all carry one child of his at the end of the seventh day or the Adjudicator Games, whichever finishes first. At the same time, he also prepares the Demigoddess by his side to play the role of 'Neo Diana', that way each time a Huntress is broken by his actions, she absorbs the power of the Hunt, and becomes a 'symbolic vessel'.
  
  "The more I hear about it," Ethan spoke grimly, "the more Commodus just seems to copy everyone's methods, yours and Triumvirate included. But since he is a monster and a predator, he adds rape, mass murder, and a lot of awful things at the top of the list."
  
  "That's not completely exact, my treacherous Lieutenant. Oh, Commodus is a narcissist predator. But in many ways, notice that Commodus does not challenge the Gods like the Triumvirate does. The duo we're currently dealing with tried to forge its godhood as 'Neo Romulus' and 'Neo Isis'. Usurpation, yet imagination."
  
  "And Commodus wants to be a ridiculous parody of my father, much like the Demigoddess by his side will become a parody of Diana." Richard Grant finished on his own.
  
  "There are advantages to this, I take it?" his blonde lover asked.
  
  "The Triumvirate's methods are way slower, but guarantee a success rate of about ninety percent, and if you fail, you can try again, though the resources expended will be far from cheap. The method Commodus is pursuing is way more riskier, not to mention horrifying and painful."
  
  As much as Perseus wished it was an exaggeration, the reality was probably worse. Bit by bit, the Hunt's power had been torn from the Huntresses, and absorbed into the host. The sense of violation must have been agonising for Panther Kowalski and the girls by her side, and honestly, the only reason why they weren't dead was their transformation into a mythical animal.
  
  It wasn't much better for the daughter of Venus, who must have suffered more pain than Miranda Gardiner when she was fully Possessed by the Sand Drakon.
  
  "I presume that at the end of the rituals, Commodus will rape her too?"
  
  Perseus wasn't in the mood to waste his saliva providing an answer that was evidence itself.
  
  "Commodus has thought of everything, doesn't he? Or at least his backers and supporters in the shadow have. It's risky, but he stayed out of sight until someone needed a High Judge for Adjudicator Games, and now he is close to accomplishing his plans."
  
  Perseus cleared his throat.
  
  That was the only moment he had looked forward to in the strategic meeting, assuredly.
  
  "Actually...no. You want my true and honest opinion, my lieutenants? The plan is incredibly stupid!"
  
  One...two...three...
  
  "Err...right?"
  
  Well, he had definitely gambled on having a set of stronger reactions...
  
  Lou Ellen showed Perseus an emotionless face. To do anything else would encourage him to repeat that sort of approach over and over.
  
  It couldn't stop him, nothing on this world could achieve that, but it was best to not pour oil on the bonfire, thank you very much.
  
  Perseus was incredibly intelligent. But taunting him and urging him to prove it was the wrong strategy to adopt.
  
  Alas, Grant had to open his mouth.
  
  "I don't understand. The plan is risky during the Games, but the stakes-"
  
  "The stakes at the end all bet on Commodus, being empowered by the Domain of War, being able to beat your father one-on-one, Grant."
  
  Evidently, when you looked at it like that, it was incredibly ridiculous.
  
  "Err...maybe you misunderstood his plan?"
  
  Perseus looked at the son of Hercules like he was a dumbass.
  
  "He calls himself 'Neo God of Strength', and chose the Nemean Lion as his symbol animal. What part of his usurpation choices do you have a problem deciphering?"
  
  "Couldn't he stop at the usurpation of the God of War?" Ethan intervened. "Or at least start an unfair fight? Yeah, one-on-one he is going to lose, but with another Goddess helping him? He wants to create a 'Neo Diana', right?"
  
  Perseus shook slowly his head.
  
  "The idea is good in theory, but sucks in practise. Everything in these acts of usurpation carries powerful symbols. And it's the God of Strength, Heroics, and several other significant Domains you want to usurp. If you don't do it one-on-one, you just admit openly you are not worthy."
  
  "But does Commodus know this? His backers may have sold him the plan, but refused to explain it the flaws."
  
  "It's...possible, I suppose." For the first time, Perseus looked hesitant, but it lasted only for a few seconds. "Still, it doesn't change anything."
  
  Lou Ellen raised an eyebrow.
  
  "It would mean two immortals against one, Perseus."
  
  "It would mean two weaklings against an apex predator that crushed legendary monsters like they were ants when he was a Demigod. Heracles was killing Gigantes by the side of the Gods before he was thirty, Lou. Two people who have no idea how to fight a match that isn't rigged are just horribly outmatched. To make this fight fair, we should bind the arms and feet of Grant's father, put a blindfold over his eyes, and probably suggest he doesn't use his divine form at all. And even then, I wouldn't bet against him."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "But it won't come to that, because 'Neo Diana' can't fight a full divine battle. She has been insufficiently prepared for the ritual. This Demigoddess should have bathed in the waters of the same Hell River Achilles was drenched into, and she wasn't. As a result, the likely outcome of the ritual is that she's going to burn inside while trying to be a vessel for a Goddess."
  
  "That bad?"
  
  "Ethan, there's a reason Gods and other powerful beings are wary of those Demigods like me who manage to bathe in Drakon's blood or emerge unscathed from their pool activities in the Underworld. You can't be incinerated as easily by a God's divine form, and it applies both on the 'outside' and the 'inside'."
  
  The grin returned, filled with the promise of bad puns and many more amusing things - from Perseus' perspective.
  
  "What do you think is going to happen if your body is supposed to contain the equivalent of ten thousand nukes of divine energy, but the receptacle is merely an improved level of the mortal baseline?"
  
  That was not a difficult answer.
  
  "Kaboom?" Lou Ellen chose to use the penguin's words.
  
  "Kaboom," Perseus confirmed. "And then the Goddess of Hunt will be free to release all her frustrations on everyone that has displeased her and that is within strike range. Since Commodus is the kind of predator she hates with a deep passion, the punishment would be swift to be delivered, and entirely deserved."
  
  On that point, the daughter of Hecate completely agreed.
  
  "But we aren't going to rely on this, because waiting for the plans of Commodus to turn to ashes requires our deaths first."
  
  And suddenly, they were reminded they were in a morgue in the most brutal way possible, as the parts of the Ares mercenaries which had perished during the First Labour were all around them.
  
  "We need to break his ambitions and win the Adjudicator Games," Ethan spoke plainly and unenthusiastically.
  
  "Yes. But have no fear, my treacherous lieutenant," in the distance, the sound of drum musicians being played began to echo, "I have a plan."
  
  With the benefit of hindsight, Commodus' greatest mistake had likely been to give Perseus twenty-four hours of rest and analysis in order to find all the loopholes and the weaknesses of the schemes the High Judge had triggered yesterday...
  
  21 January 2007, Commodianopolis' Command Room, the entrails of Commodus Coliseum
  
  Marcus Antonius had asked himself several times why in the hell the vast room located somewhere in the entrails of the Coliseum had been so empty and lifeless during his first visit.
  
  Now he knew.
  
  It was because it wasn't destined to stay empty for long.
  
  Furniture had been added. There were plenty of Roman-style couches, mattresses, and all models of tables, among many things. Each object had certainly been commissioned from Italian artisan companies providing extraordinary items to a wealthy clientele. It was rare to see so many of them at once; not only the expense had to be considerable, but the styles massively clashed, and Medea would have been appalled by the crimes against artistic taste committed here.
  
  All of it was of secondary interest, since Commodus had decided to muster the girls he had enslaved in a sort of sick and twisted parade before him.
  
  Oh, there were no collars, chains, or anything hinting at slavery.
  
  But you could see it in their eyes, this ugly mix of hatred and despair, even as their expressions varied between satisfaction and happiness.
  
  It was even worse than slavery, in many ways. At least in the days of the Old Republic - something that had continued under the Principate and later eras - no one had ever had the power or the will to dictate the moves and the bodies of the slaves, be they female or male.
  
  Commodus had done it yesterday.
  
  The new Nemean Lionesses were forced to obey his commands, no matter how much they hated them.
  
  And they were Nemean Lionesses, no matter what their current appearance suggested.
  
  It seemed that for his monstrous purposes, Commodus had the power and the control to order his slaves to return to the humanoid body everyone had seen in the arena.
  
  From afar, the girls could almost pass as human. Unfortunately, as you got closer, you couldn't miss the feline faces, the tails, and the claws.
  
  They were radiant, in their shining gold-skinned bodies.
  
  They also were a lethal threat, for Marcus Antonius had no doubt that the eighteen girls could transform back to the full size and might of their true nature, those of Nemean Lionesses, if the order was given.
  
  True, there would be a distinct lack of space to fight properly, but Marcus Antonius didn't think it would save anyone.
  
  Hercules had had trouble to defeat a single Nemean Lion when he was a Demigod. Facing eighteen all at once was just impossible, though at least the invisibility ability must have faded now - provided there were no carnivorous sheep to use as meals, of course.
  
  The Second Augustus of the Triumvirate breathed out, both to calm himself, and to prepare himself for a very unpleasant conversation that he had no wish to participate to.
  
  Alas, the rules of the Adjudicator Games gave the High Judge the power to request meetings like this one. But Commodus couldn't do anything to him as long as he kept his self-control. The Captains of each Team couldn't touch the High Judge, but the protection was reciprocal: as long as they abided by the rules, the only place where Commodus could try to murder them was in the arena. Breaking these guidelines would see him die in mere seconds.
  
  It was still very difficult to maintain an expression that was not of disgust or of rage.
  
  The air reeked of sex, and since the room hadn't been cleaned up, you didn't need much imagination to arrive to the dreadful conclusion that yes, most of the day and the night before had seen an abominably high number of rapes.
  
  "This was so easy," Commodus stated, one former Huntress at his knees. "I wonder why none of your little organisation didn't try to claim them before in such high numbers? Is it because you were carrying pathetically small and tiny ambitions? Is it because the weak whore that calls herself Neo Selene is going to one day to decide she can't face the Goddess of the Hunt unless Diana is bound and defenceless before her?"
  
  A good thing the First Caesarea of Caligula was an ally. It would be a pleasure in time to crush this arrogant head.
  
  "I can't speak for Neo Selene."
  
  "Obviously not, you're not powerful enough for that!" Commodus scoffed. "Look at my achievements, you second-rate Magister Equites! "I have made mine eighteen of the New Commodiana Thespiades! I have conquered them, and I have no doubt that soon, they will be all pregnant with my children! They will be my first lieutenants when I will conquer a new Empire, leading my invincible legions across the world!"
  
  The Second Augustus had had his doubts whether Commodus could imagine and execute complicated schemes like the one they'd seen in the Third Labour, or if someone had whispered to him the entire plan from the first step to the climax.
  
  Now he knew. Commodus had clearly understood nothing of the intricacies of the plan, and he was gloating like victory was certain.
  
  This felt, needless to say, really, really premature.
  
  Marcus Antonius chose to stand and give him a cold expression, showing only the contempt Commodus inspired him.
  
  This naturally irritated the 'High Judge' to the highest degree.
  
  "You think you are better than me, don't you?"
  
  "Whether I win or lose, I will at least be able tomorrow to speak with Isis and tell her that in the last decades I have stayed true to her. And I certainly didn't rape over a dozen girls who were all clearly unwilling and underage."
  
  "They are mine! I won them from you and your foes! To the winner goes the spoils! You lost, Magister Equites!" Commodus gloated again.
  
  One more reminder that sometimes, it would have been far better for the entire world if some Caesars had strangled their sons before they could get anywhere near the title of Augustus. Commodus thought the world should belong to him, and he clearly had not learned the same lesson as the Triumvirate that keeping slaves, in the end, was just inefficient and prompt to generate bloody disasters.
  
  "We will see about that. Three Labours are over, this leaves nine others. I trust the Fourth will begin tomorrow morning, as was properly scheduled?"
  
  The High Judge of the Adjudicator Games shrugged.
  
  "Leave us," he ordered the girls that had been transformed into feline monsters, and they obeyed, for once with what was clear relief in their eyes.
  
  "The Fourth Labour will be tomorrow, yes. I just wonder if it necessary for you to participate?"
  
  As far as provocations went, this one was perhaps the least subtle of all.
  
  "You are the High Judge. You don't have any power over my team." And yes, Marcus Antonius regretted more and more participating in this sinister farce. None of the previous Adjudicator Games had been falling in a category that could be described best as 'evil and bloody madness'.
  
  "Of course, but your strategies are clearly lacking, and this is Neo Hercules telling you that." The megalomaniac was not a God, but he behaved like he had already shed his mortal envelope and ascended to his promised apotheosis. "You really should define a better strategy. You have yet to win a single Labour, and at the rate you are losing your members, you will be left with your sorceress acolyte and yourself by the Ninth Labour at the latest. And this will be quite humiliating for you, no?"
  
  "Once again, I fail to see how it is your concern. You are the High Judge; you are not part of Team Triumvirate."
  
  Yes, the hints weren't subtle; Commodus was really bad at it.
  
  "You are going to lose against Perseus Jackson if someone doesn't help you."
  
  "Since we entered this Coliseum, someone has been doing awful deeds, killing my Legionnaires and raping girls that by some cruel twist of fate, had come under my protection. And the name of this murderous bastard isn't Perseus Jackson."
  
  Yes, it was funny how forty-hours could change one to refocus their priorities.
  
  In hindsight, the Adjudicator Games were a massive mistake, but it was impossible to cancel them now.
  
  "The Age of the Triumvirate will never come! Only under my leadership can the Olympians be toppled! I am Neo Hercules! I am the Chosen One and the New Emperor of the Gods!"
  
  Marcus Antonius didn't reply. The arrogance was so exceptional there were no words that could describe it. At least when Perseus Jackson had said some things, there was a lot of intended mockery behind them. The son of Poseidon had not been that megalomaniacal, devoid of morals, and utterly repulsive.
  
  "Neither I nor the rest of the Triumvirate will ever serve you. This I swear, for all days and nights to come."
  
  "In that case, you will never leave this Coliseum alive," Commodus gloated, reacting like the spoilt child he had always been. "Tell your team to prepare their last wills and enjoy these days...for I doubt you have many left to live."
  
  Defiled.
  
  Panther had rarely thought of the word before yesterday, but now it came every minute in her head.
  
  She was no longer a Huntress, and she had been defiled.
  
  It was like you felt so dirty it had tainted you very soul.
  
  It had broken her.
  
  It was like no amount of pure water could make you feel clean again.
  
  And the worst part? The sickening feeling her emotions had once again be the catalyst of this disaster.
  
  If she had not chosen to storm out of the waiting room-
  
  The Nemean Lioness gritted her miniature fangs.
  
  Defiled.
  
  And by her fault, many of her sisters had followed her, and been enslaved and transformed with her.
  
  Panther wished she could apologise to them.
  
  But it was impossible.
  
  Commodus had ordered them to not speak to each other unless they were in his presence, and he gave them express permission.
  
  And in twenty-four hours, when he wanted them to use their tongue, it was for far more depraved purposes.
  
  The former Lieutenant seethed in hatred.
  
  This megalomaniac Emperor truly was a degenerate and a male that deserved to be tortured for a million years in the Fields of Punishment.
  
  And she, like all her sisters who had followed her, save Ellen and Jenna, were his slaves.
  
  The magic binding them to him made sure of that.
  
  At least her thoughts were her own, no matter how hard it was to listen when her very body betrayed you, no matter how painful it was to watch as if you were a stranger looking at your very flesh participate in horribly perverted things.
  
  "I wish I could strangle him with my bare hands," Panther murmured as she entered the tiny bathroom that had been given to her this morning. Assuredly nothing in this Coliseum would make her clean again, but the hot water might help somewhat. The humanoid body she was currently using was unfamiliar, perpetually saturated with unnatural urges.
  
  "I think impressive queues are already created for the honour of being first line when execution day will come."
  
  Panther turned incredibly fast, because she knew this damn voice!
  
  "Jackson? How in the name of-"
  
  The vision her eyes gave her was one of the son of Poseidon, yes, but it was flickering and hazy. It was like you were looking at him like he was on the other end of a large water mirror.
  
  But it was him.
  
  "How can you be here?"
  
  The Demigod smiled.
  
  "Well, technically, you see, my mortal body and every tiny part of my essence are safely waiting in the Ludus. I am not here. I am currently resting after an exhausting day. Everyone in the Suicide Squad will vouch for me, by the way."
  
  "You are not here," Panther repeated slowly, understanding immediately what the son of Poseidon was saying. That way, if Commodus commanded her to speak the truth, she could give the answer he wouldn't like.
  
  As such, she didn't ask 'how?' or why?'.
  
  But there was some method of communication currently opened, and Commodus had not forbidden her or any other former Huntress to speak to Jackson in case he contacted her.
  
  "I fell into a trap, and I damned my sisters along with myself." Her feline traits twisted in disappointment, this time directed against herself. "I should have listened to the daughter of Hades...and yourself."
  
  There, it had hurt, but she had said it.
  
  "If it can make you better," Perseus Jackson said, "I hadn't seen the Thespiades plan coming either."
  
  "But you've recovered, you're not enslaved, and you are in a position to continue your Labours, with two victories under your belt."
  
  "The Labours don't matter," the red eye of the Demigod shone malevolently. "Commodus wants all of us dead, or kneeling enslaved at his feet. Any temporary escape isn't as much of a reassurance as you think it is."
  
  More than once, accepting the deal of 'volunteering for a few arena fights' was the worst mistake she'd ever done in her life.
  
  "I am a monster now, and no longer a virgin. I can't return to the Hunt."
  
  Perseus Jackson sighed.
  
  "Your loyalty to the Goddess you served until recently is admirable, but I advise very much focusing on you and you alone now, not her."
  
  "You don't know-"
  
  "Your ex-Lady pulverised three of her temples and provoked a few thousand deaths across the world in a rampage where the humans were absolutely the prey of choice, right after the Third Labour," the black-haired Demigod informed her flatly in a voice that was almost afraid. "Many Gods don't shoot the messenger bearing them the bad news; in the Goddess of the Hunt's case, I'm personally willing to testify that it doesn't apply. While I agree you were stupid and this isn't worthy of a death sentence given how much you already suffered for your failures, she will definitely kill you. In your disaster of a hunt, Commodus stole from her tiny shreds of her divine power. It is the equivalent of a cup of tea in an endless ocean, but it is power that won't return. There are going to be scapegoats, and you, being the leader of this leonine pride, Panther Kowalski, are perfect to play that role."
  
  Strangely enough, despair didn't crush her anymore. Was it because there was so much of it before, or was it because her hatred for Commodus drowned everything else?
  
  "Can you kill him?"
  
  For the first time, Panther acknowledged she was standing in front of the son of Poseidon completely naked, and she didn't feel any sense of shame anymore. It said quite terrifying things about her mind not changing...or that she had learned one hour ago that tomorrow, Commodus was going to parade them with no clothes in front of hundreds of thousands of spectators.
  
  "Right now, if I did kill him, the 'Thespiades Ritual' would ensure you would follow him into the grave seconds after."
  
  And since they were now monsters, Panther and the eighteen other Nemean Lionesses would then reform eventually, always doomed to obey every whim and command of Commodus.
  
  "Yes, I suppose it is better to avoid that."
  
  "I'm so glad you agree," there was a thin smile, which disappeared as fast as it had appeared. "I will not lie: I can't reverse the Nemean Lioness transformation you and the others have been on the receiving end of. The Labour is over, and the monstrous essence has merged with your soul and your body. Some of the process isn't over, but it's more because the mind is forced to take things slow, otherwise you get brain-dead beings."
  
  "My priority is to escape being a slave, and to free all the girls with me." Panther declared with all the conviction she had left. "We must all break this invisible leash before the end of the Games, or we will lose all chance to ever be free again."
  
  The former Huntress didn't know how she knew that, but it was the truth. Commodus had enslaved them, but it was not yet permanent. If they were still at his nonexistent mercy when the seventh day was over, on the other hand, they would be forced to serve him for the rest of their existence, and since the madman intended to be immortal with all those he called 'pets', that was a very long time.
  
  "I have a solution to your problem; the only issue is that it's unconventional, and you may not like it."
  
  "Does it look like I'm enjoying my captivity, Jackson? He raped me. He defiled me. On my bow and my new claws, I swear I will not let him get away with it."
  
  "Admirable spirit."
  
  Panther hated the fact that the sound which came out of her throat was a feline purr.
  
  "We Huntresses can be very vengeful."
  
  "That I already knew." The son of Poseidon shook his head. "Very well, let's begin with the explanations, the audience with Mark Antony is not going to distract him for very long. It involves destroying Commodus' plans in a most enjoyable and cataclysmic manner."
  
  The grin was just mad, and two days before, Panther Kowalski would have made several steps back and called her sisters to hunt the danger this Demigod represented.
  
  Now, she didn't care anymore. Commodus must suffer and die, and his death had to make her free.
  
  The rest of the world could burn for all she cared. The Nemean Lionesses of the pride came before the rest.
  
  "I am ready to play my part."
  
  "Music to my ears," the human-looking monster grinned. "Congratulation, Panther Kowalski, you have been chosen to play the architect's role in the most shocking, vicious, unprecedented betrayal of this century!"
  
  21 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Annabeth waited before Perseus had used a towel to mop up all his sweat before approaching.
  
  This 'techno-magical channel' certainly seemed extremely useful, given that it had been able to bypass all the security protocols of those serving Commodus, but it looked like it was extremely exhausting for the key user too.
  
  The Telekhines and Bianca di Angelo left the hastily modified room, while other shark demons dismantled all the machines in haste. The daughter of Athena cleared her throat.
  
  "I'm almost disappointed you didn't call them 'cat girls' even once."
  
  "I'm trying to use them as spies within the enemy's inner sanctum, Annabeth." The son of Poseidon replied after emptying a big bottle of water. "As much as insulting them would provide some momentary satisfaction, it wouldn't give me anything else."
  
  "True. But it their fault we lost the Third Labour so badly."
  
  "And they have been horribly punished for it," the leader of the Suicide Squad answer before raising an eyebrow. "Unless you think you can deal a worse punishment than what Commodus did after he enslaved them?
  
  Annabeth grimaced before shaking her head.
  
  It was an unfair question. No, she couldn't. If half of the stuff Panther Kowalski had said was the truth, the Huntresses and the other girls had endured things that most people generally killed themselves to avoid.
  
  Commodus was a rapist, a murderous monster, and worse of all, he had full control of their bodies, giving him absolute mastery when and where the girls had to be humanoid cat girls or Nemean Lionesses. They had to obey his whims, down to the one who could tell them to stop breathing at any time.
  
  And the eighteen girls who had been enslaved didn't even have the option of death as an escape.
  
  "At least their willingness to destroy their tormentor exists."
  
  "Yes. It's really funny in some kind of sick way that I suspect that in the first hours, the eighteen cat girls were all extremely fearful and terrified of the Narcissist One. Twenty four hours later, it seems they all hate him with a passion, and the fear is gone."
  
  "Because he already did to them all the awful deeds they could imagine, and more besides?" the blonde Demigoddess asked for clarification.
  
  She received a nod of approval as confirmation.
  
  It said a lot about how pathetic and incompetent Commodus could be in many aspects.
  
  "Of course, the reason he doesn't particularly care is likely that at the end of the ritual, he hopes to control the very thoughts of all Nemean Lionesses."
  
  "Once again correct," Perseus agreed. "It is why I must insist one more time on how monumentally stupid it was for Commodus to reveal his big plan when all the cats had not charged into the trap. It is only a guess, but I think it is the first time he went directly against his advisors and backers' wishes."
  
  "Well, the historical records all mention this piece of scum was impatient in the extreme until his very first death. I will jump in joy when this megalomaniac will get his slow and painful death...his second painful death."
  
  "So bloodthirsty," Perseus grinned, but there was approval in his voice.
  
  Annabeth tried to not look too fidgety, or the Gods forbid, of blushing under his gaze.
  
  "Anyway," the black-haired Demigod looked away. "We have a proper plan now, with the majority of the Nemean Lionesses onboard, and the package has been confirmed to be on its way. That leaves us the next goals."
  
  "Which are?"
  
  "Surviving the next day of Labours that will come in a few hours with a minimum of casualties, as few permanent losses as we can manage save for the War-sworn mercenaries, restoring the confidence of our team after the stupidity of the Huntresses caused a spectacular decrease of morale, and of course, to demolish utterly Commodus' Fourth and Fifth Labours."
  
  This was certainly ambitious. It was far more confident words than the son of Poseidon had uttered during the first day.
  
  "How?" a simple word, but it was hardly an unreasonable one, in her opinion. "We still have no idea what kind of murder plan is going to be unveiled tomorrow morning."
  
  "We don't know the exact specifics, no," Perseus still smiled, however. "But now I have a far better idea what kind of constraints Commodus is operating under. For his story to be a successful one, this vicious narcissist predator has severe constraints. One of them is clearly time. The seventh day is his deadline; if he fails, he will implode under the power he will have conjured, and his soul will likely suffer a level of annihilation so complete he will never return in a million years."
  
  Annabeth hummed in approval. It was good to know that the insane and risky approach had some massive drawbacks.
  
  "Thus the schedule."
  
  "Thus the schedule." Perseus repeated. "The other critical problem from our enemy's point of the view," and how fast this Emperor had replaced the Triumvirate as the chief opponent of the Adjudicator Games, "is that he needs at all cost to include some monstrous essence that was involved in the Twelve Labours of Heracles in each challenge. And he can't use what he did more than once in all the duration of the Games."
  
  "That still leaves him a great deal of leeway."
  
  "At first, it might seem true," Perseus' words took a far more cautious tone. "But then comes the second factor, the Emperor must have already established some kind of 'relationship' with the animals and monsters involved in the Labours before."
  
  "Oh," this was all she was able to reply at first. "Wait a minute! He used Emus in the First Labour!"
  
  "Commodus trained battle-ostriches all the time well before he became the Caesar of the Romans. Believe me, I checked, and all my sources agree on this."
  
  What kind of madman decided training ostriches for gladiator games was a hobby?
  
  Oh, wait, they were speaking of Commodus.
  
  Never mind.
  
  "Okay, my mistake," she admitted. "I suppose the Stymphalian Emus were sufficiently close to the Ostriches as a symbol to not cause any problems. The Mares wouldn't either, since they were a standard monster in the Twelve Labours, and Incitatus was a Roman Senator who once served an Emperor."
  
  That still left the rabbit, but for the sake of her sanity, Annabeth wasn't going to ask.
  
  "Okay, that makes sense. You know the nine remaining Labours that haven't been used so far, and you have studied Commodus' historical gladiatorial and imperial hobbies. All you need now is to combine the monstrous and the non-monstrous choices at his disposal, and you obtain a far more reduced number of combinations."
  
  "And the 'High Judge' wants to kill all those unnecessary for his apotheosis, meaning he very much needs powerful monsters."
  
  "He certainly killed plenty of gladiators yesterday, and enslaved eighteen girls."
  
  "He's impatient," Perseus reminded her. "And while he seriously reduced Team Triumvirate's effectives, I think even Commodus has experienced some wariness that the core of Team Adjudicator is still intact after the first day. Him requesting the presence of Mark Antony was a move to increase the hostilities between teams, while he oversees the bloodbath."
  
  Evidently, seen like that, it seemed the moronic plan of Commodus had already hit a few nasty obstacles.
  
  Hopefully, the treacherous piece of scum would experience a lot more unpleasantness in the next twenty-four hours.
  
  "So you have a good idea what he is going to unleash against us in the Fourth and Fifth Labour, I take it?"
  
  "I think I do, yes." Perseus grinned, and this time Annabeth answered it with a smile. "I think it is time to make some major alterations to these Games. It is time for Team Adjudicator to counterattack. This Parody of Roman Empire struck with overwhelming force. Now it is our time to return the favour!"
  
  22 January 2007, Commodianopolis' Command Room, the entrails of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  She woke up at dawn.
  
  She didn't wake up because it was dawn, however.
  
  She woke up because something in her was burning.
  
  The Demigoddess - for she was a Half-Blood, and at that moment, the suffering very much reminded her of the 'half-divine' status' limits - tightened her fists.
  
  It took a monumental of control to not scream in pain.
  
  There was a carafe of water next to her bed.
  
  In two minutes, she drank everything it contained, and yet it wasn't enough!
  
  It wasn't enough.
  
  Deep inside her, something was burning.
  
  "How is it possible?" She grunted. "I absorbed some power from the Moon and the Hunt. If anything, it should be cold!"
  
  No answer came. And the pain inside her belly - though it was not something as 'normal' as her organs or her muscles aching - did not disappear before several minutes.
  
  When at last this part of the suffering ended, it was her legs which decided to explode in pain.
  
  Fortunately, she was seated at the edge of her bed, not standing, otherwise she would likely have fallen.
  
  "Close to thirty-six hours, and it is getting worse," the Demigoddess lamented herself. "Is it because I only absorbed the power of the vows of ten Huntresses, not twenty? Or is because two of the girls refused me?"
  
  She didn't dare voicing the other possibilities out loud.
  
  Was it because the power was never hers to absorb?
  
  Was it because something had gone wrong with the ritual?
  
  "It should make my father safe. It will make my father safe."
  
  This felt like a mantra, and she repeated it more and more often since the Third Labour ended.
  
  This was the only reason she had to continue.
  
  Yes, Neo Hercules had told her it was going to let her ascend as a full-fledged, immortal Goddess. He had promised her it would give her more power than her wildest dreams. He had assured her that her song would give billions of humans some happiness and joy.
  
  But she was doing it for her father.
  
  Everything else, including her name, the Lethe had taken it from her.
  
  It had taken nearly everything from her, except the memories she had of her father, and yet it didn't hurt as much the flames of suffering erupting in different parts of her body right now.
  
  She removed her nightclothes, and tried very hard to not show any expression of displeasure.
  
  Below her navel, her body looked more and more like she has plunged into a pool filled with silver metallic dye.
  
  There were significant areas that still showed the original colour of her skin, but there were far fewer of them than they had been when she went to bed.
  
  She was transforming; there was no doubt about it.
  
  The shape of her feet was not the same.
  
  Between her brown hair, there were small points emerging, the very roots of what Neo Hercules had promised her to be future majestic golden antlers.
  
  Staring at the mirror of her bedroom, the Demigoddess couldn't find a single part of her body that hadn't experienced some transformation.
  
  No wonder it burned deep inside her.
  
  But she also knew something terribly wrong was happening to her. The men and women monitoring her health assured her of the contrary, but instinctively, the Demigoddess didn't believe them.
  
  The entire transformation process felt wrong, from the very start.
  
  "But it is an ongoing ritual, there can't be any question of turning back now." If there was something she believed with all her heart, it was that interrupting everything now would result in terrible consequences.
  
  And she had loved singing. It had not pleased her it was used for such purposes, but the Nemean Lionesses were hardly innocent themselves. Virgins, yes, but they were hardly innocent; warriors and Huntresses, their hands had been soiled with the hands of men they professed undying hatred for.
  
  "All I'm doing, I'm doing it for my father."
  
  Goddess or not, there were far worse reasons to do what she did.
  
  The door opened, and the personnel brought her the new clothes she would need for the Labours of today.
  
  It wasn't much: a silver swimsuit that managed the feat of falling into the 'one-piece swimsuit' category' all the while revealing absolutely everything about her changing body.
  
  And a pair of high heels that were so high that the young Demigoddess needed a couple of minutes of training to walk without falling on her backside.
  
  Mercifully, the pain had stopped afflicting her legs...for now. Of course, it was tearing apart her back and her shoulders now.
  
  She didn't complain; the swimsuit had at least been way easier and faster to cloth herself with than the 'costume' of Ceryneian Hind.
  
  The High Judge of the Twelve Labours arrived mere minutes after.
  
  Like her, he had dressed in some sort of swimsuit.
  
  Unlike hers, his was golden, infused with Nemean Lion essence, and left his incredibly muscular torso completely bare, leaving everyone to see the growing golden metallic patches that hadn't been there before the First Labour.
  
  "Shall we, Caesarea Neo Diana?
  
  "Yes, Imperator Neo Hercules, I am ready."
  
  And the sooner it happened, the better. Maybe if the Demigods and other mortals standing in the arena acknowledged the futility of their struggle, both their suffering and hers would end today?
  
  Situation after 3 Labours:
  
  Team Adjudicator effectives: 79
  
  Team Triumvirate effectives: 71
  
  Labours won by Team Adjudicator: 2
  
  Labours won by Team Triumvirate: 0
  
  Author's note:
  
  An Impractical Guide to Godhood will continue in the next update, which will likely given the title: Imperial Circus.
  
  For Commodus really, really shouldn't have motivated one Perseus Jackson or revealed part of his master plan. Now things are going to escalate in increasingly mad inventive ways...
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Imperial Circus
  Chapter 30
  
  Imperial Circus
  
  The Empire struck back and won a game.
  
  It is, when you think about it, logical.
  
  Empires have to strike back.
  
  If they didn't, they wouldn't stay Empires for very long. The mercenaries in their service would begin to ask themselves if their future pay isn't going to be compromised by the recent reverses. Their citizens would begin to grow resentful that the pride of their imperial nation is so easily trampled upon. Their enemies would take note of the weaknesses just revealed and decide to test the waters before readying death blows.
  
  Empires live and thrive on their ability of striking back.
  
  It is after all, a question of life or death for them.
  
  And the Emperors who forget it clearly have chosen to not remember Rule Number One of the Imperium: no Empire is eternal.
  
  It is the problem with imperial dominion: be they tyrants or genuine heroes who want to redress the wrongs, they have to try to convince their subjects that the Empire is eternal, despite the mountain of evidence in past history hinting that nothing built by human hands lasts forever.
  
  The foundations of an Empire appear solid until they rot, tremble, and then collapse.
  
  The wise and astute Emperor who conquered and solidified the political system dies leaving the throne to a spoilt and incapable son who will destroy his legacy.
  
  No Empire is eternal, and none of the Emperors who rule it are immortal either.
  
  That's why they try so hard to become Gods, obviously.
  
  If they had immortality and eternal youth, they wouldn't call it an Empire anymore, and they would choose a far grander title than Emperor.
  
  It goes without saying that there are a few obstacles in the way of the ambitions certain Emperors have.
  
  Their successors, for one. For some reason, Princes and Generals who want to step into the shoes of an Emperor after his natural demise have no interest in their master becoming an immortal. One might even say they find it abhorrent and an insult for their loyal services.
  
  As a consequence, there are often plots to accelerate the coming of the 'natural death'.
  
  The Emperor is dead; long live the Emperor, and all of that.
  
  But there are other things that plenty of despots fear ultimately far more than jealous children and ambitious rivals.
  
  They can't stand being a laughingstock in front of the masses.
  
  Assassinations, murder plots, full-scale wars, and torrents of blood are all fine, for they will spread fear, and as one clever man of this world noted, sometimes, it is far better to be feared to be loved.
  
  This man should have added: a ruler can't afford to be mocked.
  
  That's the problem with Empires and Emperors: you can be acknowledged as many things, but you can't be seen as weak, impotent, ridiculous, never mind all the three at the same time.
  
  You can't let the sheep believe that the Imperial Retribution is only delivered when the enemy is too weak, or when the conditions are too advantageous.
  
  The fist of iron must be able to crush all dissenters. Victory has to reliably be seized by the Empire, otherwise the claims to invincibility begin to ring very hollow indeed.
  
  This is why your plans must include some absurdly ridiculous things when you face an Emperor.
  
  This is why you have to unleash the circus.
  
  Call me Perseus 'Lord Ringmaster' Jackson.
  
  The games are at last going to get the madness sea they deserve.
  
  Extract of the Mad Musings of a Crazy Demigod, collected by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  22 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Alaric was a proud Praetorian of the glorious Neo Hercules.
  
  Of course, he was proud because the pay was super-good, and the perks were countless.
  
  As long as he diligently obeyed the orders of Neo Hercules, he was richly rewarded, and everything was fine.
  
  But as the gates opened, and a grinning son of Poseidon came into view, Alaric wondered if maybe there weren't things that all the bonuses in the world couldn't properly reward you for.
  
  "Yes?" He asked warily.
  
  Many Praetorians had bet that the infamous Suicide Squad and its leader would be mentally wrecked this morning.
  
  These fellow mercenaries had been wrong. The members of Team Adjudicator looked ready to murder someone, and already several spars were playing out, with imprecations and promises to make his employer a eunuch.
  
  "Per Article Nineteen of the Adjudicator Games, I, the leader of Team Adjudicator wishes to deliver a simple letter to the High Judge. It is to be placed in his hands right after he will have revealed the nature of the Fourth Labour."
  
  Alaric stared at the letter for a couple of seconds. Then called two of his men to check if the message wasn't trapped.
  
  To his surprise, there was no magic or anything like that.
  
  To the best of his knowledge, the embellished letter had only a single sheet of paper inside it.
  
  "I don't know what game you are playing-"
  
  "Just give the letter to the High Judge, Praetorian." The smile was honestly giving him the urge to draw his sword and eviscerate the Demigod. But he couldn't do that. And the bastard was likely strong enough to kill him with one hand behind his back.
  
  No, no Praetorian had forgotten how Perseus Jackson had survived a monumental explosion of Greek Fire.
  
  "And since you are almost a friend, I advise you to not deliver it in person."
  
  Alaric swallowed...and then called one of the servants they kept on hand, relaying the suggestion.
  
  "Anything else?"
  
  "No." The black-haired monster shook his head.
  
  "Good." It was already bad that-
  
  No, better not to think about all the crazy things this Demigod could do. Alaric, like plenty of Germani had thought the rumours were exaggerated. Instead, they appeared to have underestimated Perseus Jackson.
  
  "The Fourth Labour is going to begin in two hours. Your personal entrance to the Coliseum will be opened in ninety minutes. You have exactly that amount of time to don your gladiatorial uniforms...which for today are mostly swimsuits."
  
  The son of Poseidon didn't blink, and Alaric had suddenly the urge to shiver.
  
  No, this couldn't be-
  
  No, the plans of Neo Hercules were perfect.
  
  No one was good enough to discover what the Labours were about in advance. Both Teams had been completely surprised by their enemies from the First to the Third.
  
  Today would be no different. The Demigod in front of him was just trying to destabilise him with a poker face.
  
  Yes, this was it.
  
  "The weapons?"
  
  "The glorious Neo Hercules has imposed some limitations. While all weapons which existed during the era of the Greek Antiquity are authorised, other armaments have been forbidden..."
  
  Alaric delivered the speech he had been paid for, word for word, unflinchingly.
  
  Yet with every second, he was close to shiver in fear.
  
  Something was wrong.
  
  He didn't know what, but something was incredibly wrong with Team Adjudicator.
  
  "So much for the hope that there would be some decent clothing today," Ellen said dejectedly.
  
  "Was there any hope? I mean, it is Commodus we're speaking about."
  
  "A good point...unfortunately."
  
  Now that she thought about it, yes, there had never been any hope they would get anything decent to wear. The Ceryneian Hind costume was not an anomaly or something sent by mistake. It was a deliberate provocation.
  
  The same could be said about what they had to don today.
  
  "It is a silver swimsuit." Jenna sighed.
  
  "An indecent swimsuit...and it will provide no protection whatsoever." Ellen grimaced. "A good thing I had no intention to descend in the arena today."
  
  And at the risk of playing the outraged doe...once she had the swimsuit upon her, it was worse. Much like the costume of the Hind, the silver was in reality way too close to being entirely transparent.
  
  That didn't even count of how the material was espousing the form of her-
  
  No, she had to focus on other things.
  
  Succumbing to one provocation once had almost led her to becoming the sex slave of a predatory Emperor; it was out of the question for it to happen twice!
  
  "Give me some good news, Jenna."
  
  "Err...the other girls have it as bad as we do? The only difference is that their swimsuits are either red or black, and the swimsuits don't look transparent...not that they hide a lot, honestly."
  
  Commodus was going to die for...for everything.
  
  "I don't think it is good news, but thanks for trying."
  
  Her sister in all but blood had not added that the males of Team Adjudicator had it even worse than they. Their 'uniform' for the Gladiator Games of today were reduced to a swim short, and nothing else.
  
  "We speak of indecency, and for good reasons, but you have to admit, it's more than a provocation. We have no armour whatsoever, and we're told to go fighting monsters that have triumphed of many heroes and battalions of adult soldiers."
  
  "Yes, I wish we could have...we have some blessings, but they won't do much here. At least we have our weapons."
  
  "For all the good they did during the Third Labour," Jenna remarked darkly before looking deliberately at Clarisse La Rue sparring with Ethan Nakamura. "I wouldn't advise to look behind you. Our other sisters are...discovering the swimsuits."
  
  Right after that, of course, the screams of rage erupted in her ears.
  
  "That answers a few questions of mine."
  
  "We were like them, you know." Ellen blinked, only now realising Kimiko had joined them.
  
  "We were not like that," the Huntress half-heartedly reacted.
  
  "Yes, we were." The cursed Huntress immediately crushed her objections. "We have just been given a 'reality check', courtesy of someone called Perseus Jackson. Otherwise, would you have gone against the orders of Panther Kowalski?"
  
  Said like that...no, no she wouldn't have.
  
  "These swimsuits worry me for a lot of reasons, sister."
  
  "Don't worry for the swimsuits, Ellen. Worry far more about the fact the megalomaniac narcissist isn't bothering anymore to hide his designs to transform us like he did the others."
  
  Ellen breathed out.
  
  "You really have a gift to reassure everyone right after breakfast, you know that?"
  
  "You want a reassurance? The insane 'Lord of the Suicide Squad' has a plan, or so he proclaims since he woke up."
  
  "Let's hope it is a good one, then." Jenna commented with complete seriousness. "Because let's face it, given how easily he was able to provoke us and anticipate everything we did in the Third Labour, I'm very afraid we wouldn't last long if we were on our own."
  
  More screams almost deafened them.
  
  "We're going to end up deaf by tonight, if the others continue like this."
  
  "I don't even understand why they're so angry." Jenna muttered. "At this point, we're almost naked anyway. They can think of killing all the spectators while they don the swimsuit. I know it helped me...that and it was easier to wear than this insult of a Ceryneian Hind costume."
  
  Ellen shook her head automatically in approval, before frowning.
  
  "What?"
  
  "The supersonic rabbit was the way the enemy used to break all the oaths of Panther and the others. It can't be used again. How does the enemy intend to replicate this abominable deed?"
  
  "If I have a guess? Kimiko drawled. "He's going to try to kill everyone who is not 'marked' to become one of his 'Commodiana Thespiades'. Only then he will move...and we better cut our own throats before he is able to enslave us."
  
  "Dreadful words, but alas true. Do you think-"
  
  "FRIENDS, MEMBERS OF TEAM ADJUDICATOR, AND REINFORCEMENTS! LEND ME YOUR EARS!"
  
  The sparring ended.
  
  The last members hastily discarded their last clothes to don the swimsuits.
  
  The ruckus of many emotional conversations stopped.
  
  Perseus Jackson took two steps forwards, and his red eye was a thing of madness.
  
  "I find myself burdened by a glorious plan."
  
  Was this how the world ended? With a malicious and devastating grin?
  
  "I call it: Imperial Circus."
  
  22 January 2007, the Waiting Lodge of Team Adjudicator, Upper Levels of the Coliseum, not far from the Throne-Lodge, Commodus Coliseum
  
  This day, they weren't waiting in the depths of the Coliseum.
  
  In theory, there was nothing that should have stopped a repeat of the first day of Labours, however.
  
  No, they couldn't have used the same tunnels to go into the arena, courtesy of it being flooded - that was why they had been given swimsuits.
  
  But there could have been other ways to let them use the original Waiting Room. Hell, with an island having so many tunnels and secret passages, it was inevitable plenty of exits and entrances linked large rooms to accesses which were still above the surface of the 'arena lake'.
  
  Their narcissist 'host' had just chosen not to use them.
  
  "He wants to gloat." The son of Nemesis managed to say the words without adding a few insults.
  
  "Of course," Perseus Jackson added as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Check the distance separating us from the Imperial Lodge, please. We're about fifteen to seventeen metres away. It's close enough for us to have an excellent view of everything that is done in front of our eyes, but too far to have a chance to mount a sneak attack."
  
  Ethan grimaced inwardly.
  
  "More provocations. Great."
  
  As if the Gods wanted more irony, a cacophony erupted, and the eighteen girls that had been enslaved during the Third Labour emerged from the entrails of the Coliseum.
  
  They were all in their half-feline half-human forms.
  
  And yes, Ethan could confirm they didn't wear a single item of clothing above their unnatural golden skin.
  
  The officer of the Suicide Squad sighed and turned his eyes away from this spectacle. Apart from getting angry, there was nothing he could do, save that in a day that wasn't hopefully not far away, Commodus was going to get everything what he deserved.
  
  "I don't like this." The black-haired Demigod preferred not to think about how many times he had spoken the words during the Great Quest.
  
  "Why the hell not?" Perseus replied sarcastically. "It is just a gigantic swimming pool, my treacherous lieutenant!"
  
  A second after, the son of Poseidon had requisitioned a lounge chair for himself, and was already ordering some fruit juice from a gaping butler.
  
  "I would rather describe it as a lake." Ethan replied grimly. "And have you seen the sum of this floating infrastructure that is currently floating in your so-called 'swimming pool'? It is as if every floating object was created for the sole purpose of being completely unstable the moment any Demigod jumps on it!"
  
  "Congratulations, my treacherous lieutenant, you have indeed discovered the purpose of the 'floating support'."
  
  And this time, there was no humour whatsoever in Jackson's voice.
  
  "Boss! You're not serious-"
  
  "He is." Ethan interrupted.
  
  Yes, he had not had the time to think deeply about the scenario of this 'Fourth Labour'. And the same was true about the purpose of any object floating in this massive lake.
  
  But in hindsight, if the giant 'fries', 'balls', and other items were unstable, yes, it had to be deliberate.
  
  There was a giant fake island - with a fake palm tree and fake coconuts of all things - at the point where the centre of the arena should be.
  
  There were fake bridges and fake surfboards.
  
  All of it, even a significant distance away, seemed to be the kind of 'support' you could hold on five seconds upon before losing your balance and taking a dive.
  
  "Come on, my treacherous lieutenant, don't glare like that at the lake! For once, there is plenty of good news to go around."
  
  "There is good news?" He asked in disbelief.
  
  "Well, yes. As much as some probably don't want to hear it, being forced to don swimsuits was the correct move today. If some of our 'reinforcements' had insisted to wear armour today, they would be the first to sink...and to die."
  
  "Armour can be removed, oh supreme aquatic leader."
  
  "That it does." The son of the Earthshaker conceded happily. "In fact-"
  
  "ALL HAIL NEO HERCULES! ALL HAIL NEO DIANA! A NEW DAY OF LABOURS IS UPON US, COMMODUS COLISEUM!"
  
  The sound barrier protecting them from the screams of the Centaurs and the rest of the crowd was lowered.
  
  It was as unpleasant as you could expect.
  
  Many members of the Suicide Squad chose immediately to don their earmuffs.
  
  Ethan didn't blame them. It was an atmosphere of savagery and bloodthirst.
  
  It wasn't helped by a certain God of War, which remained in his cage far above their Lodge and any structure of the Coliseum.
  
  Unlike Isis, Ares had stayed in his suspended prison for the entire duration of the 'resting hours'.
  
  And no, this time Commodus couldn't be blamed for it. Who would be so stupid as to come anywhere near this cage? The Germani and other mercenaries were good, but not that good, and there were things that mountains of Denarii and Drachmas couldn't buy.
  
  "THE SECOND DAY OF THE LABOURS IS HERE!"
  
  Commodus came first, unsurprisingly.
  
  All the enslaved girls prostrated themselves before the maniac, who had chosen today a simple golden short swimsuit. The contrast was rather grotesque with his oversized muscles and the purple toga that fell upon his shoulders once he was seated upon his throne.
  
  The Demigoddess that had surprised everyone during the Third Labour arrived next. She wore a variant of the silver swimsuit that all the 'potential Thespiades' of Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate had been forced to don today. Unlike them, she also had silver heels that looked absurdly tall and uncomfortable.
  
  Needless to say, it wasn't enough to hide the patches of silver where the human skin had been replaced, or the parts which didn't conform to human anatomy. But had hiding been the point in the first place?
  
  Showing the results of an ongoing 'ritualised usurpation' was arrogant in the extreme by every standard.
  
  But it was Commodus, the Narcissist-Megalomaniac-in-chief.
  
  Arrogance was everything he lived for.
  
  Commodus clicked his fingers.
  
  Instantly, two of the former Huntresses went to kneel by his feet. And-
  
  No, Ethan was not going to continue to describe that.
  
  "I know everyone is very impatient to discover what Labours my unequalled mind was able to imagine in the last days!" The Narcissist Emperor proclaimed with his imperial voice. "Rejoice, for you won't have to wait any longer! LET THE FOURTH LABOUR BEGIN!"
  
  There was an enormous rumble, and under their feet, the colossal machinery of the Coliseum went into motion.
  
  It was loud and lasted several seconds before it had any visible effect, but soon, the underwater gates opened, slowly but inevitably.
  
  The stadium held its breath.
  
  The machinery continued its work, until without warning, it stopped.
  
  From their high-altitude Lodge, the gates now looked like a dark maw, one where a myriad of threats could charge from at any moment.
  
  For a few heartbeats, nothing happened. Ethan was sure many Demigods and Demigoddesses were praying that there had been some mishaps. Could the monster of the day have broken its chains and be busy devouring its handlers?
  
  But the Suicide Squad had never been that lucky.
  
  Three seconds later, a giant mass came out of the opened underwater gates.
  
  And when Ethan said 'giant', yes, gigantic was the word.
  
  It was smaller than the Drakon Perseus had faced and killed inside the Forge of All Perils, all right.
  
  But plenty of other big monsters could be compared unfavourably.
  
  "And to say I didn't go to the Legions because I didn't want to face beasts like those..." Dakota mumbled, already pouring himself several drinks.
  
  One giant head emerged. Then a second. A third followed.
  
  One by one, all the heads revealed themselves.
  
  Heads that were undoubtedly serpentine, and covered in fluorescent green scales. The eyes glowed a murderous orange.
  
  Nine heads for a single monster.
  
  "Hydra," Ethan sighed. "I hate it when you are right."
  
  "But why is it that big?"
  
  The question had come from one of the Ares-sworn mercenaries.
  
  "Because," Luke Castellan chose to answer, "it was crossbred with a Carthaginian Serpent, a monster that is of such size than one is an adequate foe for a fully-deployed Legion. Now that the two species have been merged into a single body, I suppose-"
  
  "THE FOURTH LABOUR: THE CARTHAGINIAN HYDRA!"
  
  The crowd bayed and screamed its approval.
  
  It called for their blood and for their deaths. It was fury and mayhem. It was chaos. There were the beginnings of awful deeds and celebrations in the stands.
  
  And needless to say, the Carthaginian Hydra didn't like that at all.
  
  It was going to be in a murderous mood...just like Commodus had desired, of course.
  
  "Ha!" And now came the gloating from the Narcissist. "You didn't see this coming, oh legendary heroes of the Suicide Squad?"
  
  Perseus turned his head towards the Throne-Lodge.
  
  And he grinned.
  
  "The letter," the black-haired mad Demigod said sweetly.
  
  The crowd didn't stop its acclamations and chaotic actions, but around their Lodges, plenty of eyes turned as a man in a red toga approached the Emperor, a single letter being carried on a golden tray.
  
  Commodus grabbed the letter without a single thanks, and chuckled.
  
  "What is it again, son of the old algae waves? An attempt to convince me to spare you?" The letter was almost torn apart to be opened. "Let's see...the Fourth Labour will see the Suicide Squad face a Carthaginian Hydra."
  
  The public stopped its ruckus.
  
  And the expression of Commodus...oh, Ethan admitted it was priceless.
  
  There was denial, shock, and incomprehension on this face where arrogance had just disappeared.
  
  Then came anger.
  
  The servant who had carried the letter received an impossibly fast fist, and his head exploded.
  
  He was dead before he touched the ground.
  
  "NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!"
  
  Perseus Jackson, meanwhile, continued to sit in his lounge chair as if nothing was wrong.
  
  "Come on, Emperor. Are you not entertained?"
  
  22 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  It was impossible to laugh.
  
  It was too bad, because she would have done so.
  
  Yes, it would have been 'rewarded' by some heavy punishment.
  
  Panther Kowalski knew it would have been worth it.
  
  "Come on, Emperor. Are you not entertained?"
  
  Being defiled in the morning, watching her sisters being forced to lick the feet of 'Neo Hercules'...all of it was unpleasant and humiliating.
  
  But it didn't matter.
  
  Not when they suddenly could see the monster losing all his arrogance and self-control.
  
  "YOU CHEATED!"
  
  Perseus Jackson was on his lounge chair, with a straw hat upon his head, and he was drinking some fruit juice.
  
  And the royal insult of all insults? He didn't even turn to give Commodus a glance.
  
  He was ignoring the monster.
  
  And Commodus snapped.
  
  "YOU CHEATED! GUARDS! BY MY WILL-"
  
  "Careful, oh High Judge." The son of Poseidon stopped drinking, but didn't turn his head...in fact, he chose this moment to take sunglasses and use them to protect his eyes. "Article Twenty-Six is very clear about the accusations of cheating. If no evidence is provided in the next twenty minutes, the party accusing one of the Teams must apologise. Well, that, or victory for no less than three Labours is given to the Team who was so unfairly accused! Isn't that right, my noble Referees?"
  
  "It is indeed the letter of the rules," Dionysus had arrived, and was eating a massive can of pop-corn for evident reasons while emptying cup after cup of wine. "Sorry, Commodus, you have to prove Team Adjudicator cheated."
  
  "You...you..." the muscles were moving. Panther felt burning rage emanating from the body of the monstrous Emperor. If he was a true God, they would all have been incinerated by now. Fortunately, her defiler was powerful, but not a divine power worthy of the name. "YOU!"
  
  "Me." Panther removed everything bad she'd ever said about Perseus Jackson. "What it will be, oh Emperor Commodus? The apology or the evidence of my nonexistent cheating?"
  
  The rage turned from hot to cold, and the enslaver of her sisters gritted his teeth.
  
  Everyone could read it on his face that he had no idea how the Suicide Squad and its crazy leader had cheated.
  
  "I apologise and withdraw the accusations of cheating."
  
  Yeah, she had expected something like that. There was no way Commodus would want to give an automatic 'triple victory' to any Team. His Labours were all about killing them and enslaving the 'New Thespiades'. Losing three Labours for no losses among the gladiators of both Teams? This would be a massive defeat for the Narcissist Predator.
  
  "Good. Next time, don't be so predictable." And Perseus Jackson yawned.
  
  This was way funnier than she thought. They had all been prepared for Commodus taunting and provoking Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate...and it was the reverse which was happening.
  
  "I AM NOT PREDICTABLE!"
  
  "Yes, you are." Perseus yawned again.
  
  This was getting better and better by the second.
  
  "I AM NOT!"
  
  "You are. Servants! More pineapple and lemon juice here!" The son of Poseidon agitated the glass in his hand. "Where were we again?"
  
  Panther Kowalski was not saying that smoke was coming out of the ears of Commodus, but given his reddening face, they were not far from it.
  
  "My Labours are. Not. Predictable." All the Germani had taken many, many steps to place themselves as far as they could from their angry 'Master'.
  
  This really, really didn't impress Perseus Jackson. At all.
  
  "Come on, my ignoble enemy! Everyone knows that the Carthaginian Serpent, with its high-level Hydrokinesis powers, was one of the last-ditch monsters tamed by the Carthage beast-tamers to annihilate the sons of Neptune fighting beneath the banners of Rome!"
  
  Panther gaped in surprise, and she wasn't the only one. Apparently, yeah, the overwhelming majority of people didn't know that.
  
  "Then you have the fact that certain Hydras are known to be able to transform water into poison: they are descendants of the Lernaean Hydra, but in the post-Titanomachy Era, they were known as the Polybetan Hydras, for this lethal capacity was given to them by the self-proclaimed Bane of Poseidon. It is also one of the species which are thought to have enormous advantages over Demigods like myself, since they deny us the ability to use our Hydrokinesis. Once you know that, crossbreeding the two monster species is kind of evidence itself. One might say...it was predictable."
  
  Many spectators were gaping in shock.
  
  It was better than the reaction of the son of Bacchus next to Jackson, who was laughing hysterically.
  
  But it was nothing to the reaction of Commodus, whose face had frozen into a mask of cruelty and hatred.
  
  And it led her to one realisation.
  
  Before today, Commodus had certainly considered Team Adjudicator like a bunch of insects that were unworthy of his attention.
  
  Now? Now it had completely changed. Now the Narcissist Predator truly hated them. And he hated Perseus Jackson above all.
  
  "Fine words," the Emperor replied after a long moment of silence, "but you are bluffing."
  
  "Bluffing?" Perseus Jackson snorted very loudly. "I am wounded, my ignoble enemy!"
  
  This earned him a glare that was a promise of death by itself.
  
  "Have I uttered anything untrue in the last minutes? Did you not choose these little-known monsters exactly for the reasons I mentioned?"
  
  "No," the Defiler admitted, something he evidently didn't enjoy at all. "I, the clear-seeing Neo Hercules, am seeing clearly through your little game. You knew in advance which Labour I was going to use against you, but you engineered this moment of defiance in order to convince me to cancel this Labour."
  
  "And why would I do that?"
  
  "Because you have nothing to defeat the Carthaginian Hydra!"
  
  Thousands of eyes refocused on the mentioned monster, and yeah, Panther had to admit this serpent was very bad news. All hydras had incredible regenerative abilities, and if this one could turn all water into poison, plenty of Demigods were going to die...
  
  "You are bluffing, son of Poseidon," Commodus' voice was slowly regaining his assurance. "I don't know how you discovered the Fourth Labour before entering the arena, but it doesn't matter! The Carthaginian Hydra will be your end! Here are my rules! Twelve members maximum for each team, and no reinforcements can enter the arena as long as the first gladiators have not been defeated, one way or another! And this Labour will continue as long as one of the teams isn't victorious! Defeat the Carthaginian Hydra!"
  
  This furious diatribe was welcomed by an exaggerated yawn.
  
  "This sounds very exciting for everyone, no doubt. I'm sure I'm going to enjoy the spectacle while sunbathing. Now where is the sunscreen?"
  
  To her greatest pleasure, Commodus looked like his face had once again been slapped. Hard.
  
  Oh, this was so satisfying...
  
  "Did you hear correctly my commands? I said-"
  
  "I am not deaf, oh Emperor of Rapists, Defiler of Innocence." Perseus Jackson clearly had abandoned the idea of staying polite to him this morning. "You want a certain number of gladiators to descend in the arena. These are the rules, and we will comply. Bianca! Lou Ellen! Hera! Jade! This is your time to shine."
  
  It was all so pleasing to see the panic slowly overtaking everything in the eyes of the Defiler.
  
  You could read it in his eyes.
  
  Everything had been planned and engineered to make sure that Perseus Jackson was the one to fight the Carthaginian Hydra.
  
  It was to be the repeat of the Second Labour, except this time, the son of Poseidon would be killed by an enemy bred and trained to counter all of his tricks.
  
  But if the leader of the Suicide Squad wasn't the one to fight the Hydra...it wasn't the game Commodus had prepared for.
  
  And victory suddenly seemed far less certain.
  
  "You're bluffing," Panther didn't know if their enslaver was trying to convince the public or himself. "You aren't going to trick me, not this time! This bluff won't work!"
  
  Then he noticed that all of his 'Commodiana Thespiades', including Panther, looked way too pleased by the situation.
  
  The next minutes were unpleasant for them.
  
  But honestly, it failed to break them.
  
  Hope had been rekindled, and this was a flame the Narcissist Predator couldn't stop from burning in their hearts.
  
  22 January 2007, the Flooded Arena, Colossus Coliseum
  
  There were some arenas you walked into.
  
  Today, the Coliseum built for the megalomaniac was not one of them.
  
  They arrived by toboggan, and yes, it was absurdly dangerous, since there was a fully mature Carthaginian Hydra waiting for them.
  
  The only piece of good news to be found was that there were floating toys nearby to get out of the water very fast.
  
  And that between the noise and the multiple delays, the Hydra had been incredibly perturbed by all the baying the Centaurs did, and had swum to the other end of the arena, leaving Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate splash into the water unimpeded.
  
  But this wasn't likely to last long.
  
  "Can I already say I have my doubts about this plan?" the former Goddess of Marriage groaned. "We could certainly do something simpler!"
  
  "Simpler? Yes." The daughter of Hades replied, standing like a Queen upon a floating platform that looked extremely thin and about to capsize at any moment. "But don't forget what Jackson said. It is not about how easy or simple our performance is. It is about the story."
  
  And the story had her complete support.
  
  For that matter, it would have had the complete support of everyone in Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate if they had been informed of it, which was not the case.
  
  It was about humiliating Emperor Commodus, Defiler of Virgins and Felon Supreme.
  
  The Narcissist Predator truly deserved it, and worse.
  
  But of course, it wasn't going to be easy.
  
  "Team Triumvirate?"
  
  "Mark Antony sent Medea and eleven male Legionnaires," Lou Ellen answered.
  
  This was more or less what had been anticipated.
  
  But there was no joy at being proven right.
  
  Not when one by one, the nine heads of the Hydras emerged from the water and turned to stare at them.
  
  The orange serpentine eyes had already, it appeared, decided which category they must be placed into, and Hera had the feeling that it had to be something akin to 'dinner'.
  
  "Ready?"
  
  "I am ready," Bianca di Angelo said emotionlessly, a pentacle of shadows dancing under feet. "You can go all-out, Jade."
  
  "Snows of Olympus, frigid blizzards born from the northern winds," the former Huntress snarled, and as blue magic shrouded her, she seemed to lose bit by bit all her humanity, being replaced by her true Drakonic form, "I banish Summer, and call for the Hell Winter! FREEZE!"
  
  Normally, it shouldn't have much effect. Sure, Jade was the Champion of Khione, but the arena was a giant lake, and honestly, it was largely over thirty degrees Celsius right now, despite it being barely ten o'clock in the morning. The water was warm, the ambiance was volcanic.
  
  But as the Lightning Thief suddenly lent her powers to Jade, the previous certainties broke with it.
  
  It began to get cold, incredibly cold.
  
  And where the hands of the former Huntress touched the water, it froze.
  
  Everything froze.
  
  Clouds of grey assembled, and snow began to fall.
  
  Temperatures dropped, and the cold tried to take over everything.
  
  In one minute, the entire lake of the Coliseum was frozen, and with such depth that a Demigod wielding an axe would be unable to break the ice. There were certainly more than a couple of metres of ice covering the 'giant swimming pool' now.
  
  Where there had been a tropical aquatic spectacle before, now a garden of winter awaited.
  
  To say the crowd was shocked was perhaps the understatement of the day.
  
  Unfortunately, even after all the surprises they had given him, it was not enough to silence for long Commodus.
  
  "NICE TRY!" The narcissist Emperor exclaimed. "But I have bad news for you, gladiators! You see, Polybetan Hydras have large colonies in Antarctica! A little cold isn't going to kill one! They are also notorious for hunting other monsters by pulverising large quantities of ice and waiting in ambush underneath until someone makes the mistake of going near them!"
  
  The equivalent of a small iceberg missed them by several metres, and the first monstrous head emerged anew, looking perfectly uninjured.
  
  Uninjured, but visibly pissed off.
  
  The Carthaginian Hydra had forfeited all chance to ambush them; instead, it seemed from all the drilling through the ice that the beast was trying to create a big enough hole to deal with them personally over the ice.
  
  It was cold, so cold...and the giant Hydra rose, like a reptilian Titan, its nine heads already having drops of poison splash over the ice, creating miniature holes with it.
  
  Yes, the black poison was so virulent that it was melting the ice.
  
  "Hera?"
  
  The former Queen of the Gods focused on the energy waiting besides her. An energy that had turned as cold as the ice in contact with her body.
  
  "I am ready. Winter...winter is ready."
  
  The Hydra unleashed a massive poison attack.
  
  There were some Demigods and other heroes who thought that fire was the most redoubtable attack of the Hydras.
  
  They were wrong.
  
  The poison smelled like death, and it created massive trenches into the ice.
  
  But when it came near them, a wall of shadows stopped it. The rampart of darkness that came into existence seemed to devour the poison blasts, in fact.
  
  "Hurry," Bianca di Angelo ordered. "It attacked with only one head; the eight others will soon join the offensive. And I also have to support Jade creating more ice."
  
  "Understood," the daughter of Hecate nodded, casting many circles of glowing pure white energy. "I'm on it. Plan Imperial Circus is ready to be implemented. Ready?"
  
  "Ready?" Hera summoned all her strength...and then jumped into one of the glowing magical circles.
  
  The first urge was to scream, as it felt all the pain in the world was attacking her.
  
  But there were more important things at stake.
  
  First...first, she had to transform.
  
  22 January 2007, the Waiting Lodge of Team Adjudicator
  
  Despite the cold, despite the cold wind that had just appeared out of nowhere, Anne Bonny scratched her head.
  
  "I don't understand at all your plan, Jackson."
  
  "I thought it was obvious, oh my pirate lieutenant. I summoned winter. What is more natural than that, since we're in January?"
  
  Many Demigods and Telekhines used fins to facepalm in consternation.
  
  "Boss? It is summer in the Southern Pacific at this time of the year."
  
  "Nonsense, my dear lieutenant. It is January, and thus it is winter. The story demands it. Don't you see the snow? The ice? Don't you appreciate this small aftertaste of Hell Freezing? It is winter, I assure you."
  
  Anne Bonny shuddered, and wondered if at some point, she shouldn't have stayed to guard a Titan's prison. Not that she had been given a lot of choice, mind you, but there could have been something she could have tried.
  
  Why did freedom have to come hand in hand with madness?
  
  "Let's humour you for a moment, and pretend it is really winter." The pirate Demigoddess sighed. "What then? Yes, I suppose Hera is technically the Goddess of the Seasons, and that includes winter. Yes, I suppose the Goddess Khione will be pleased her influence is able to reach so far and so powerfully into the Sea of Monsters thanks to the power provided by the daughter of the Rich One. But what good it will do against the Carthaginian Hydra? It is not going to make her immune to this dangerous poison."
  
  Honestly, Anne Bonny had rarely seen a monster that was that dangerous for pirates. It was good the waters had been turned into ice, for it avoided the possibility of all the gladiators swimming into a sea of poison, something that would undoubtedly have resulted in a rapid series of deaths.
  
  "My dear lieutenant, it is all about the story! Think about how poetic it is! In the middle of winter, deprived from her divine powers, the Goddess-turned-mortal finds into her the strength to transform into her new symbolic wintery animal, and as a result she is to become the predator of the Carthaginian Hydra!"
  
  Anne Bonny felt she had drunk way too much in the morning, which was a paradox by itself, because she swore she had limited herself to a sip of wine.
  
  "Jackson...Lou Ellen is empowering Hera; she is not finding strength within herself or whatever nonsense."
  
  "Details!" the son of Poseidon dismissed with a large grin, while most of the public tried to find whatever warm clothes were available now that the Coliseum was plunged at sub-zero temperatures.
  
  "Details? For the love of...never mind." Anne sighed. "Then speak of something that is not a detail. Hydras have no natural predators."
  
  "That's where you are completely wrong, my dear lieutenant. Absolutely and totally wrong. Everything has a predator. You don't really think the Olympian Council pushed forwards monsters during the original Twelve Labours that they couldn't have handled if the hero failed?"
  
  "That's-"
  
  There was a massive flash of white magic.
  
  It blinded everyone.
  
  And when Anne Bonny felt her sight had returned, she thought she was having a hallucination.
  
  Hera had disappeared.
  
  But there was now a massive peacock in the frozen arena.
  
  A beautiful peacock to be sure.
  
  A white peacock whose feathers shone like diamonds, it felt completely suited when it was surrounded by ice like that.
  
  And it was a very big peacock; it was as big as a medium-sized elephant.
  
  But it was still a peacock.
  
  "Jackson! Of all the stupid ideas..."
  
  The crowd began to laugh, and approve. They cheered and proclaimed the Carthaginian Hydra was going to have a nice meal.
  
  "Tell me there is something more, something...game-changing."
  
  "Jade, Lou Ellen, and Bianca are protected. But I am afraid Team Triumvirate is not...as such...it is peacock time!"
  
  It was fascinating, in a sickly way, to see all the Legionnaires be transformed one by one into peacocks.
  
  Flash after flash, the group of followers of Mark Antony was replaced by a muster of peacocks, with the only exception being Medea, who managed to protect herself in time and thus retain her normal appearance.
  
  At least, these peacocks were clearly male, with plumages of dark blue, and seemed to be the size of large dogs, not an elephant.
  
  "Ha! Ha! Ha!" Commodus laughed. "I thank you for the joke, Perseus Jackson, but don't think I will have mercy for your companions. This peacock joke was certainly amusing, but it has only given you a few additional minutes of life!"
  
  Perseus Jackson raised his straw hat and saluted.
  
  "Look at your Hydra, oh Emperor."
  
  Anne, like tens of thousands of other spectators, unconsciously focused her attention on the monster.
  
  A monster that seemed to have abandoned all its aggressiveness, and now was hissing in strange ways...it almost looked like...the Carthaginian Hydra was panicking?
  
  The male peacocks advanced, and fanned their tails.
  
  If there had been panic before, this was nothing now that all the eyespots were revealed. The Hydra heads were trying to look everywhere but at the peacocks.
  
  A second later, Hera-Peacock imitated them, and it was like magnificence incarnate was able to channel all the radiance of winter and a million eyes.
  
  It was like the sun had been transformed into a winter sun.
  
  The male Legionnaires...no, the male peacocks, charged.
  
  The Carthaginian Hydra was a gigantic monster.
  
  It was nearly impossible to kill.
  
  It could have easily handled several hundred Demigods at the same time.
  
  But now it was deathly afraid.
  
  And for the first time since the beginning of this Tournament, a 'Labour Monster' openly and deliberately refused to fight.
  
  There was no arguing against what they were watching.
  
  The Carthaginian Hydra threw itself into the hole that it had dug a few minutes ago, returning in the water below the ice sheet that had not yet frozen.
  
  And then it swam at an incredible speed towards the underwater gates.
  
  Commodus barked something, but it was too late.
  
  There was a loud explosion and the arena slightly trembled under the impact.
  
  The silence came right after.
  
  The Carthaginian Hydra had deserted the arena.
  
  "Who could have predicted it?" Perseus Jackson gloated. "The Carthaginian Hydra has just forfeited! The Fourth Labour is over! Victory goes to Team Adjudicator!"
  
  Anne Bonny couldn't help herself, she began to laugh, laugh, and laugh again. She couldn't stop laughing anymore...
  
  22 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  "THE FOURTH LABOUR IS OVER!"
  
  Dionysus almost missed the announcement, busy as he was giggling like a schoolboy who had just been told his favourite superheroes existed.
  
  It was way too funny. Who could have guessed it? Hydras were afraid of peacocks.
  
  That was hilarious.
  
  That was incredible.
  
  That was something that was sure to be discussed for decades in the halls of Olympus and elsewhere...
  
  "A great and mighty Carthaginian Hydra was defeated by a muster of peacocks! No wonder he called this the Imperial Circus!"
  
  Dionysus laughed harder after the words of Antaeus.
  
  The God of Wine laughed, and as he did, he conjured more barrels of wine.
  
  "We are indeed entertained! Praise the Suicide Squad!"
  
  For all his hilarity, he didn't miss the fact that Hera returned to her human body a second later. It had a rippling effect for all the Legionnaires: all were returned to their previous appearances too.
  
  The magical incantations ceased.
  
  And one by one, the gladiators of Team Triumvirate and Team Adjudicator collapsed.
  
  Hera was visibly soundly asleep, and only avoided drowning as the cracks spread by virtue of the daughter of Hecate dragging her back with a magical rope.
  
  In the mean time, the daughter of Hades did the same for the Champion of Khione.
  
  The story was over, and the winter cast for the Fourth Labour was no more.
  
  The summer-like weather was once again asserting its domination, and the magic was fading away, both symbolism and power being denied to it.
  
  Medea, Immortal Sorceress of the Triumvirate, was busy saving the Legionnaires from drowning, as the ice melted incredibly fast.
  
  There were many decisive rescues, but Dionysus had no doubt no one would die from this.
  
  This wasn't to say they were all going to be mentally fine; transforming into an animal was a mad thing at the best of time, and now they were back into their human bodies without warning. Hera would be fine; her essence likely remembered being a peacock. The mortals couldn't boast the same.
  
  "I wonder how he got the idea?" the son of Poseidon by his side playing the role of Referee asked. "Hera as a Goddess could have informed him of the Hydra weaknesses, but as a mortal, it is possible she didn't remember."
  
  That was a good question. Obviously, Perseus Jackson had an 'eternal friend' in the form of Asterius the Minotaur, but the God of Wine had never heard of the son of Minos fighting a Hydra...or using a peacock to do so. There was Circe, who was petty and vicious enough to solve her problems that way, but it didn't have her fingerprints. The Romans? No, in general, they relegated the Hydras to the gladiator arenas-
  
  "Oh, no. Spartacus. Spartacus fought many Hydras in the arenas while he was a slave-gladiator of Rome."
  
  "Ah. Yes, I suppose it explains a few things. As a veteran and friend of some monster-tamers, he must have known their strengths and their weaknesses."
  
  Dionysus chuckled and turned his head.
  
  Commodus wasn't laughing. The Demigoddess by his side wasn't laughing. The girls that were now Nemean Lionesses weren't laughing, though in their case, it was likely because they had been forbidden to do so.
  
  "I believe you were mentioning a bluff, oh Emperor Commodus?" Dionysus cheekily voiced with as much irony as he could pour into these simple words.
  
  Perseus Jackson didn't bluff.
  
  Honestly, the God of Madness and Wine didn't know if the son of Poseidon had bothered reading the definition of 'bluffing'. For to bluff would imply to not proceed with spectacular plans and destroying everything in his path, much like what had happened against the dolphin servants of Tethys during the Clash of Titans.
  
  This was not what the Suicide Squad was doing.
  
  And Commodus had been given a superb lesson on the subject today.
  
  "THIS IS A MOCKERY OF MY LABOURS!"
  
  Ah yes, the Narcissist had at last exploded in fury.
  
  "AN UNIQUE CARTHAGINIAN HYDRA WHICH REQUIRED OVER A DECADE OF BREEDING AND TRAINING! DO YOU HAVE AN IDEA HOW MUCH AN ADULT HYDRA OF THAT SIZE EATS EVERY DAY?"
  
  "A lot?" In the distance, Perseus Jackson of course didn't miss the opportunity to pour more oil into the fire. "That said, there's a solution for that. I propose to change the Fifth Labour for a Grand Banquet! This time I will face the Carthaginian Hydra in person! Me against nine heads, surely nothing can go wrong? I am sure that with a regimen of boars-"
  
  "YOU SHUT UP YOU DAMN SEASPAWN!"
  
  It was said one learned more in defeat than in victory. This was certainly the case here and now.
  
  The eyes and the expressions told the truth.
  
  Commodus wasn't capable of tolerating the idea of being defeated.
  
  "This is against the rules," the son of Marcus Aurelius seethed. "Yes. The Carthaginian Hydra was clearly unsuitable. The Fourth Labour has to be cancelled. I don't have the choice-"
  
  Dionysus snorted loudly. He would have wanted to say it was unexpected, but it would be a lie.
  
  "No."
  
  "No," Antaeus echoed a second later.
  
  Commodus glared at them. Dionysus silently explained him how pathetic he found that kind of behaviour.
  
  The Emperor quickly refused to meet his eyes.
  
  And that was it. Without the support of the two Referees, the High Judge couldn't cancel the challenges for true or non-existent irregularities.
  
  "I am the High Judge!" The pathetic predator masquerading as an Emperor snarled.
  
  "And I personally wonder, High Judge, how many members of the Olympian Gods will want you dead by the end of this Adjudicator Challenge?"
  
  So far, the correct answer Dionysus was gambling onto was 'everyone', and the day was still young.
  
  "I want it to be noted...that it was against the spirit of the rules."
  
  "No, it was not. The Hydra had to be defeated. It was. Assuming you wanted it to be killed, or for the heroes to cut a certain number of heads, you should have said so. The heroes defeated the Hydra. Mission accomplished."
  
  "The peacocks defeated the Hydras! The peacocks!"
  
  Antaeus tried not to die of laughter by his side.
  
  Dionysus feigned a desperate sigh.
  
  "Is there a point to this conversation I can't believe I'm holding without having drunk several barrels of Eleutherian Wine first?"
  
  "The peacocks belonged both to Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate! It is a shared victory."
  
  That was...kind of true.
  
  Of course, it was a monument to imperial pettiness too.
  
  Technically, it did indeed describe accurately how the victory was achieved, but the Olympian God knew Commodus had not uttered the argument for this reason.
  
  No, the Narcissist Emperor had done it because Perseus Jackson had humiliated him, and he wanted to deny him as much as he could, now that the possibility of cancelling the Labour was out of his reach.
  
  "I suppose the argument is indeed true, by a certain definition of it. My fellow Referee?"
  
  "I approve."
  
  "Then a shared victory it will be. SCOREBOARD!"
  
  There were many boos and insults coming from every direction.
  
  But the results indeed arrived three seconds later.
  
  Scores after 4 Labours:
  
  Team Adjudicator effectives: 79
  
  Team Triumvirate effectives: 71
  
  Labours won by Team Adjudicator: 2.5
  
  Labours won by Team Triumvirate: 0.5
  
  Team Triumvirate would not end these 'Games' with a zero, it seemed.
  
  But that wasn't the most interesting part playing out now.
  
  No, that 'honour' belonged to the furious reactions of the monstrous public. They had loved the first three Labours, and especially the carnage of the First, and the defeat of the Huntresses during the Third. Nothing surprising, since they were many rapists in the audience, the overwhelming numbers of them being Centaurs.
  
  But today? Oh no, they hadn't enjoyed the Fourth Labour at all. They had not been entertained. They felt like they were being mocked. They thought they had paid expensive tickets for a circus.
  
  They didn't like that at all.
  
  It was too early for something interesting to happen, of course. It was just the Fourth Labour, and the first of this second day of competition in the Adjudicator Challenge.
  
  But it was the first fissure.
  
  It had proven Commodus could be beaten, despite this arena being his personal kingdom.
  
  "FIFTY MINUTES OF INTERLUDE!"
  
  Crimson-faced, 'Neo Hercules' stormed out of the Throne-Lodge, followed by a Demigoddess, eighteen Nemean Lionesses, and all his clique of Praetorians.
  
  22 January 2007, the Temple of Sky and Thunder, Olympus
  
  There were unconventional strategies, and then there were things which went so far beyond it that the red line separating them from the conventional ideas might as well not exist.
  
  This one definitely belonged to the latter.
  
  "Peacocks," Jupiter grumbled. "Why did it have to be peacocks?"
  
  Honestly, who would have thought peacocks could be an offensive weapon?
  
  Before this fight, the ridiculousness of the proposal would have seen anyone become the laughingstock of Olympus.
  
  The King of the Gods knew he had used some outrageous tactics and strategies during his days, but that peacock assault against the Carthaginian Hydra...it was something else.
  
  Jupiter wasn't going to pretend it was not exhilarating to see this parvenu of Commodus receiving a much-needed lesson of humility. After what he had done to the Huntresses, the unworthy son of Marcus Aurelius was going to die painfully. If the Demigods missed him, Diana would not.
  
  It was rejuvenating, yes, to watch something like that. It was why he had changed to take up the appearance of a twenty-years-old blonde boy that he had rarely chosen in the last fifty years.
  
  And yes, this had made him feel more alive than ever in the last minutes.
  
  "You must hate him, my King." The naked blonde Goddess in his bed purred contently. "He is able to manipulate her like you were never able to."
  
  "I don't hate him." Jupiter said truthfully, insisting upon the 'I'. "The parts of myself who do are busy elsewhere."
  
  Many mortals and Demigods insisted the Roman and Greek parts of a deity were one and the same, and there was a lot of truth behind that statement. Unfortunately for them, it was not the whole truth.
  
  "Really? I would have thought..."
  
  "I don't like very much Perseus Jackson." He admitted. "He is wild, disobedient, chaotic; much like Neptune was once he became the Master of the Seas. There is no respect for his elders or for anyone else. I can easily see he is going to cause more trouble than a hundred of my children will ever accomplish in a century. But I don't hate him. His grievances are justified. One can't expect blind loyalty after unleashing the Master Bolt."
  
  As Zeus, he had killed the boy's mother, and came close to killing the boy himself. Save by plunging him into the waters of the Lethe, there was no way to forget something like that.
  
  There could be no forgiving, and the son of his brother would not forget.
  
  One day, there would be a reckoning.
  
  "And you, Victoria? Do you hate Commodus now that he has chosen his atrocity of a 'shared victory'?"
  
  "Of course I do," the Goddess of Victory answered. "I was disgusted by his deeds before, how he defiled the very idea of triumphing over one's opponents. But now I hate him very much. It is not the concept of 'shared victory' I find abhorrent, however. It is that he hands out underserved victories. Team Triumvirate did nothing of note during this Labour. If they had a plan, I certainly didn't see it anyway! Their main exploit was getting their Legionnaires transformed into peacocks. Nice for them I suppose, but it confirms they never saw Jackson's plan coming, and they weren't able to protect the members of their team. Team Adjudicator played them from start to finish. I wouldn't reward them with a single Drachma, and certainly not with a 'shared victory'!"
  
  The blue eyes of the Goddess flashed with ferocity, and combined with her unkempt blonde hair, it made her truly magnificent.
  
  "You aren't going to curse him, then?" The King of the Sky asked to the Goddess the Greeks had worshipped as Nike.
  
  "Please," Victoria smiled. "He has a Bane, and his name is Perseus Jackson. Forget the Curses, my King, soon the False Emperor will pray to any deity in the hope we will save his vermin of a life."
  
  "I suppose that we will have a better idea of his fate in fifty minutes," Jupiter nodded, giving a glance as certain Demigods carried an unconscious Hera-
  
  The super-holographic screen brutally switched out.
  
  "I am a very jealous Goddess, my King." Victoria said without a trace of shame. "If you want me to be your Queen, know one thing about me: I. Do. Not. Share."
  
  "Consider me duly warned." The King of Olympus replied, before preparing for another 'battle', one he hoped to be far more pleasant and victorious than the last...
  
  22 January 2007, the Waiting Lodge of Team Adjudicator
  
  Annabeth cleared her throat.
  
  "I don't think Commodus is going to consider accepting your offers of eternal friendship again, Perseus."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad's sole reaction at first was to finish drinking his fruit juice. And then ask the servants at their disposal for more.
  
  "I don't intend to make the offers again, Annabeth. I think I will survive the disappointment."
  
  The son of Poseidon snorted.
  
  "Actually, I wish in the interests of eternal friendship that he had done me a favour, and that under the sheer anger he was experiencing, Commodus would have been on the receiving end of a brain aneurysm."
  
  The daughter of Athena was sure many people would have cheered if the 'Ignoble Narcissist' - the capital letters were very much deserved - fell from blood saturating his brain to kill him on the spot.
  
  Alas, this didn't happen. So far.
  
  Commodus lived, and the 'gladiator games of Neo Hercules' continued.
  
  "What is going to happen?" She asked after biting her lips, betraying her nervousness.
  
  Perseus Jackson grinned.
  
  "I can tell you what is NOT going to happen." There was a theatrical pause, which of course gave Annabeth the urge to strangle him. "Commodus can't change the number of Labours we will have to successfully complete today."
  
  "He can do that?" Suddenly, all her pre-Labour fears seemed to not be so unfounded after all...
  
  "He can change the program and his not-so-delicious schedule, yes." The Drakon-Slayer confirmed without a hint of a joke. "But he has to do it twelve hours before the 'Labour' in question is scheduled, of course. It's way, way too late obviously for the Fourth and Fifth Labours."
  
  "It's not for the Sixth and Seventh of tomorrow, though."
  
  The grey-eyed Demigoddess was feeling a headache coming, and for once, a certain infuriating Demigod wasn't responsible.
  
  "The changes?" She insisted, as no more revelations came.
  
  "In my humble opinion, he is already going to schedule them for tomorrow afternoon. That way he will win some time, in case the Fifth Labour goes as badly for him as the Fourth did."
  
  "And if it is the case?"
  
  "He will most likely have to crawl in front of his backers, and humbly request their assistance."
  
  Annabeth really couldn't help it; she made a sound of disbelief.
  
  "Are we sure we speak of the same predator? Commodus? Humble?"
  
  "You would be surprised to know how much some people can discard all their arrogance when their sole and only life is at stake."
  
  Annabeth was absolutely unconvinced. This was Commodus, the Narcissist One, that they were speaking about!
  
  'It is all about me' could have been his House's words!
  
  "Anyway." The Lord of the Suicide Squad yawned. "I'm certain our ignoble host's reason for demanding fifty minutes of Interlude is that he must change the Fifth Labour that he was going to throw at us. The Fourth Labour and the Carthaginian Hydra were all about neutralising me, and it abysmally failed."
  
  "Several officers will be unable to compete in it, though."
  
  Bianca di Angelo looked like she was fine, but it may be her arrogance playing out; no one could be perfectly fine after the sorcerous stuff she had done. Lou Ellen was clearly exhausted, after channelling so much magic. And they were the two who were in the best shape. Jade wasn't unconscious, but she was unable to walk by herself when they led her to the infirmary wing, and Hera had lost consciousness completely.
  
  That was two officers of the Suicide Squad completely out, and the two sorceresses were tired.
  
  For all the humiliation they had given Commodus, it had been way more difficult than the video of the Carthaginian Hydra running away in fear suggested.
  
  "True. But just by being here, able to participate, I utterly screwed up the plans of Commodus. He wanted to kill me; I didn't have to plunge into the lake. And that's a big problem for him, because you can probably guess what he had in mind."
  
  "Another Labour to make sure that this evening, he had his daily supply of sex slaves to rape?"
  
  The daughter of Athena didn't care that the Germani Praetorians visibly were offended by her words. Commodus was a predator and a man that should have been turned into a eunuch when he first committed some crimes. Period.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Which one?"
  
  "It is only a guess, but since he is so eager to provoke the Huntresses into doing something stupid, my vote would be on a Labour modelled on the Augean Stables."
  
  Annabeth grimaced. Of all Labours, this one was definitely not one she had ever wanted to be near to. It was an ugly pile of excrements, literally and metaphorically.
  
  "AHHHHHHH!"
  
  The exclamations came as some darkness enchantment fell onto the arena, cutting it completely from the view of the spectators. The giant 'swimming pool' was now entirely plunged into an obscurity no light spell seemed to able to break.
  
  In fact, if they hadn't known there was water before, you wouldn't be able to tell now that the arena is flooded.
  
  Clearly, whatever Labour Commodus had decided to go with, he thought Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate had no need to see the preparations.
  
  "Thirty minutes left of Interlude," she commented drily. "What kind of Labour do you think he will choose?"
  
  "It won't be the Nemean Lion," Perseus said with a thoughtful tone. "I'm almost certain Commodus want to keep this one for the end, both as a symbol for the ritual, and a last flawless weapon to finish us if it proves necessary. A Labour with the golden apples of the Hesperides is not good either, since we have a myriad of potential thieves available."
  
  In addition to that, the Stymphalian Birds, the Mares of Diomedes, and the Ceryneian Hind had been done during the first day. And the Hydra was out of the game thanks to the Fourth Labour.
  
  "Logically, he is going to try something with the Erymanthian Boar or the Cretan Bull."
  
  "That promises to be...interesting."
  
  "Of course! Did you see the enraged expression Commodus had on his face when he stormed out of his lodge? If he had been an automaton, I would have been able to hear the court-circuits of the machinery!"
  
  "Your plan is to continue the humiliation, then."
  
  "And if possible, to make him so furious he will accuse me of cheating again. Handing us three Labours' victories without lifting a single finger is the kind of thing that no Adjudicator has been able to achieve before, and I am curious if I can enter the legend that way..."
  
  Annabeth facepalmed.
  
  "Has someone told you how crazy you are today, Jackson?"
  
  "No, for some reason, no one did."
  
  "Consider it done, then." And yes, the daughter of Athena voiced it as sarcastically as she could.
  
  22 January 2007, Waiting Lodge of Team Triumvirate, Commodus Coliseum, Narcissist Island
  
  There were days you could see the storm on the horizon. You knew it was coming. You could almost taste the destruction it was going to unleash in order to burn your world.
  
  And there was nothing you could do about it.
  
  Fortunately, these days didn't happen often in history.
  
  At least, Marcus Antonius liked to think they didn't happen often; he could count on one hand the number of times he'd been the witness to one.
  
  Which was all for the better.
  
  The days in question were simply murder.
  
  The former Magister Equites grimaced at the very memory of the first one that always figured at the forefront of his thoughts.
  
  "Not today," the Second Augustus of the Triumvirate murmured. And yes, he hated how close it was to a prayer. "Please, let it be not today."
  
  "It won't be today," Medea scoffed by his side. "But only because this bastard of the Seas didn't manage to change me into a peacock! I would have flayed him alive if he had succeeded!"
  
  "You would try," Marcus corrected.
  
  Medea was an Immortal Sorceress, yes. But Jackson had survived a fight with a Titaness and a Primordial Drakon. And he had killed the latter.
  
  By this point, in a one-on-one duel, his experience of Legion commander told him that the Princess of Colchis wouldn't be able to hold her own against the son of Poseidon.
  
  "He has weaknesses." Medea glared at...practically everyone in the public. "Otherwise, he would have dealt with the Hydra himself."
  
  Marcus wasn't so sure. By the way the Fourth Labour had played out it had seemed that Perseus Jackson had done everything to humiliate Commodus, while at the same try destroying the self-control of the rapist.
  
  Commodus wanted Perseus Jackson to fight in the arena; it had been as such a superb reason for the Demigod to NOT go anywhere near the flooded arena.
  
  If the megalomaniac had said the sky was to be painted green as part of the Fourth Labour, it was likely the Suicide Squad would have painted it pink.
  
  As long as it stayed within the rules, of course.
  
  Yes, Commodus must have learned the hard way that the words chosen were extremely important. He had paid a terrible price for telling they had to defeat the Carthaginian Hydra.
  
  "You will have to acknowledge he's incredibly resourceful," Marcus said patiently. And yes, the more Labours were revealed, the worse the idea of challenging this Demigod to an Adjudicator Game proved itself to be.
  
  "He knew what the Labour was beforehand." The Princess of Colchis said distastefully. "Talk about bloody cheating!"
  
  "As the Referees told our 'ignoble host', Lady Sorceress, it is only cheating if you can prove it."
  
  And there was no evidence to support it. If there had been, Commodus would have led the judicial charge against Team Adjudicator.
  
  "I am not so sure about it. There are thousands of potential spies, and all of our moves are carefully monitored. Perseus Jackson may have gotten away with it this time, but he may not be able to repeat the feat."
  
  Was it really luck, or something more? Four Labours out of twelve were officially completed. That was one-third of the whole challenge.
  
  He looked at the darkness that had engulfed the arena for several seconds, before shaking his head.
  
  "Cheating or not, in less than forty-eight hours, this Demigod analysed the defeat of the Huntresses, brutally corrected some of the most egregious weaknesses, and elaborated a strategy which utterly demolished Commodus' scheme where the Fourth Labour was concerned. This is no small thing."
  
  It should also be noted that Team Triumvirate's performance, compared to that, was pretty much disastrous.
  
  "I will give you that." Medea retorted unhappily. "And I will admit that we don't deserve the 'shared victory."
  
  "Commodus did it to screw with Jackson," it was the reaction of a spoiled child, really. "I know he didn't do it because he suddenly wanted to be friends with us."
  
  "But it is a neat gain for this team."
  
  "Yes." As it was, they had 'only' two Labour victories to catch up. If Commodus had not done what he did, it would have been three.
  
  To say it would have been an incredibly disadvantageous position would not have been stretching the truth at all. There were only eight Labours left, in the end.
  
  "We could deliberately go for it in a few minutes."
  
  "A shared victory? I don't know." Marcus winced. "Let's face it, the outcome for the Fourth Labour depended a lot on the Referees blocking Commodus' attempts, and the megalomaniac trying to violate the spirit of the competition. The shared victory worked because most of our team was transformed into peacocks. If they hadn't been, it wouldn't have worked."
  
  "For a certain definition of 'working," Medea hissed darkly. "Three out eleven are now convinced they are destined to be peacock consorts of the Peacock Goddess."
  
  "I blame Perseus Jackson." It had the merit of being the full and simple truth this time.
  
  "I blame Perseus Jackson too."
  
  In the distance, a certain Demigod raised his glass, mocking them by his very existence.
  
  "How much do you think Commodus is going to change his Fifth Labour considering what the four girls did to the Carthaginian Hydra, in your opinion?"
  
  "All of it, Marcus Antonius. He's going to change all of it. And I think you knew it before asking the question."
  
  "Yes, I know...I was just hoping to be wrong."
  
  22 January 2007, the Sun Palace, Olympus
  
  Apollo knew it was going to be bad.
  
  Commodus had never reacted well to being defeated unless it was Apollo doing it during his first life.
  
  The rage in his former lover's eyes and his violent punishments supported the idea that Commodus had become worse since they had met for the last time.
  
  This was bad.
  
  Many gladiatorial games of Commodus had been vicious because the future Augustus felt a point had to be made.
  
  This wouldn't be the case here.
  
  No, the Labour would be cruel, murderous, and vicious because 'Neo Hercules' wanted to return the favour.
  
  He wanted Perseus Jackson dead and humiliated.
  
  And most likely the rest of the Suicide Squad to share his fate.
  
  "You truly have become everything your opponents proclaimed you to be, Commodus."
  
  The Nemean Lionesses were the symbol of that, as they returned. Many had clearly been beaten severely during the Interlude; given how fast they regenerated, the fact several were still bleeding was a very bad sign.
  
  Others must have been abused and raped, the way they were walking could hardly be mistaken for something else.
  
  Commodus entered about ten heartbeats later, and this time, he wore his infamous golden armour, his purple toga draped over it.
  
  There was no smile. There was no apparent goodness or attempt to seduce anyone.
  
  There was just a determination to crush everything in his path, which most likely included Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate.
  
  He sat upon his throne, accompanied by the silver-touched Demigoddess.
  
  The darkness flickered out over the arena.
  
  "The Fifth Labour is about to begin."
  
  The public shouted its approval, just before they were ordered to be silent once more.
  
  The arena had changed, obviously.
  
  But it was still flooded.
  
  Not as much as during the Fourth Labour; during that one, there had been easily a lake that was thirty metres deep; a necessity, if you wanted to send a giant Hydra in it.
  
  No, for the Fifth Labour, the water levels had severely decreased. It couldn't be deeper than five metres, and it was likely closer to four.
  
  The rubber toys and other unstable floating things that had been everywhere during the previous Labour had been removed too.
  
  There were now two massive enchanted platforms on the opposite sides of the arena, and they looked to be made of stone, which had been of course enchanted to float. That gave a sort of 'home base' for each team.
  
  That was the good news for the future gladiators.
  
  The bad news, since of course they had to be many...these platforms at the opposite 'corners' were the only things that floated. If you wanted to go somewhere else in the arena, you would have to swim.
  
  Or to freeze the water once again, evidently. But Apollo wasn't sure anyone among the mortals had the magical juice to do it twice, whether a Champion or not.
  
  "The problem will be the lake." He whispered, though with him being alone in his Temple, there was really no need for it. "During the Fourth Labour, the only problem was that the heroes would need to be out of the water as fast as possible, since the Hydra could transform it into a lake of poison at any moment. But now it's worse."
  
  It was difficult to believe, but it was true.
  
  Under the surface, the servants of Commodus had thrown hundreds of nasty surprises, all of them that had the potential to become lethal.
  
  Apollo couldn't claim to be a military specialist, but he was sure plenty of the items emplaced at the bottom were evolved models of underwater mines. And they were huge. This was the sort of weapon you used to sink warships or submarines. What they would do to a Demigod, he preferred to not imagine it.
  
  There also were some items looking like enchanted columns shining magically. As the Second Labour had proved, some of those could transform mortals into animals, and make them even more vulnerable to the dangers of the arena.
  
  Listing everything that had been mustered to make the depths a vicious series of underwater traps would take too long, but the God of the Sun was sure that at some point, the quantity of the traps was a quality by itself.
  
  No Demigod or Demigoddesses had the speed to go supersonic; at some point, you were going to be hit by something, get injured, and then you would slow down.
  
  It was inevitable.
  
  The easy solution was clearly not to swim, to stay on the stone platforms.
  
  Alas, as two massive cages materialised, one per platform, Apollo was sure this strategy wasn't going to work.
  
  "The gladiators will have a simple Task for the Fifth Labour! They have to capture the prize before the other Team does!"
  
  And Commodus has learned his lesson after the humiliation of the Carthaginian Hydra; the 'prize' - almost certainly a monster - was nowhere in sight at the moment...
  
  22 January 2007, Waiting Lodge of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum, Narcissist Island
  
  "Okay, I admit, it's going to be a bit more complicated than I wanted."
  
  There were words you didn't want your boyfriend to utter when you were already exhausted, and this sentence should be near the top of the list.
  
  "That bad, uh?"
  
  No joke immediately answered, which was...damning.
  
  "You see the shimmering in the water?" Her lover asked.
  
  "Yes, I do," though she had to use more of her sorcery sight than she wanted to.
  
  "Well, I think it's a triple-layered net of the Goddess Britomartis. And it's synchronised with the underwater minefield. It's the perfect trap if you have Telekhines in the opposition and your enemy tries to be clever."
  
  The daughter of Hecate swallowed heavily. She didn't much like the shark monsters, but with several battles under her belt, she could guess how it would end if the Telekhines tried to disarm the traps.
  
  "You managed to buy things like that on the black market, Perseus?"
  
  She received a snort for sole answer.
  
  "Lou Ellen, this thing is stealthy, magical, and resistant to all weapons of Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold. It is never on the black market...or any market where the mortals are invited. In fact, a lot of the stuff which is deployed in this flooded arena can't be bought anywhere."
  
  The blonde sorceress believed him. Of all the talents shown in two Great Quests, Perseus' ability to acquire illegally an extraordinary variety of magical artefacts was undoubtedly among the greatest.
  
  "The Sire of the Drakons?"
  
  "No. Not unless he has a multitude of talents that have nothing to do with foresight and empowering Drakons. Commodus has a real leader in illegal artefacts and traps supporting him, and in comparison, I am just an amateur. To get a net like this one, you have to be insanely lucky, or be in the market of shady deals for centuries."
  
  Translation: yes, it was that bad. Having the Sire of Drakons playing his games in the shadows had been nerve-wracking, but if others were joining the 'fun'...
  
  "We have other options but the Telekhine, right?"
  
  "We have, of course. But not that many. It is out of the question to send you or Bianca back into the arena, you are way too exhausted, and two Labours with just fifty minutes of rest is just asking for mistakes caused by exhaustion to happen. And obviously, while having bathed in the Hell Sea makes you difficult to hurt, you aren't invincible."
  
  "Drew?"
  
  "She is a living weapon now, but that's exactly the problem."
  
  "Ah. One has to capture the monster, not kill it outright."
  
  "Yes. Oh, we could deliberately screw up everything and kill deliberately our target, but I'm pretty sure it will result in a lot of traps detonating at once."
  
  "Who were you intending to send before the predator changed the game?"
  
  "I was thinking about Dakota, supported by the daughters of Bellona."
  
  "A drunken classic?"
  
  "Once drowned properly in Eleutherian Wine or equivalent, our dear son of Bacchus can accomplish the impossible, and his future girlfriends can and will slowly bleed a monster, weakening any beast that has blood flowing through its veins until it is more or less inoffensive. But all this mined lake makes it impossible. The monster is going to be immune to all of this; our ignoble host will have made sure of it. Unfortunately, the same won't be said about our 'gladiators' for this Labour."
  
  "AHEM! THE TIME FOR DEBATING IS OVER! THE CAPTAINS HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO CHOOSE THEIR TEAMS! FOR THE FIFTH LABOUR, IN HIS GREAT GENEROSITY, NEO HERCULES GIVES THEM A CHOICE! THE CAPTAINS CAN SELECT TWELVE MEMBERS WHO WILL ENTER THE ARENA WITH NOTHING BUT THEIR COURAGE AND ONE WEAPON EACH! OR THE CAPTAINS WILL PROVE THEIR DETERMINATION AND THEIR SKILL WITH TWO OTHER GLADIATORS SECONDING THEM! AND AS PER THE RULES, IF ONE CAPTAIN CHOOSES TO PARTICIPATE, THE OTHER MUST FOLLOW!"
  
  Lou Ellen felt an instinctive urge to murder Commodus as fast as possible.
  
  "It appears he really wants you dead."
  
  "Yes. I wonder why he possibly feels such a strong enmity towards my humble soul?"
  
  Perseus shook his head, as if he was sorry to see all the perfidy and the cruelty of Commodus.
  
  "Praise Atlantis, I still have an extremely good reason to be optimistic."
  
  "Your plan?"
  
  "No, it's just that Commodus eagerly confirmed he was as arrogant as he was stupid."
  
  22 January 2007, New Constantinople, New York, United States of America (de jure)
  
  If asked for an official report before a superior officer, Jason Grace was supposed to say the defences of New Constantinople had never been stronger than during the 'Labours of Neo Commodus'. All the city was in high alert, the security measures had been reinforced, and every Legionnaire had doubled up on his or her vigilance against potential monster assaults or traitors' infiltrations.
  
  It was, quite clearly, a bunch of lies.
  
  Everyone was watching the Adjudicator Games, from Chiron to the Dryads, and from the Centurions to the civilians of New Constantinople.
  
  The 'fan zone' around the giant television that had been installed in the biggest square of the city was completely full. Every location that had some means of welcoming Demigods and Legacies and the means to let you watch the 'spectacle' was making a killing with drinks and snacks.
  
  As far as the powers-that-be were concerned, it was an unofficial bank holiday.
  
  It had gotten to the point that some twins, sons of Dionysus by the looks of it, had gone forwards and bluntly proclaimed themselves to be the 'official commentators of Perseus Jackson' Labours'.
  
  And no one had raised an eyebrow. Not after the first spectacular day of 'competition'.
  
  "All right, Pollux! It looks like the taunts of Commodus have had an effect!"
  
  "Right, Castor! The Captains of Team Adjudicator and the treacherous Triumvirate are descending in person into the arena for the Fifth Labour!"
  
  "If you allow me, I will say it's a risky strategy coming from this insane megalomaniac!"
  
  "Of course, I will allow you to say so, my beloved twin! I will even say I wouldn't have the guts to do it after the Great Peacock Charge!"
  
  "Yes, it seems a bit audacious even for the megalomaniac High Judge! I mean, Perseus Jackson didn't bluff the last time!"
  
  "In all fairness, Castor, this time the son of Poseidon didn't send a letter to the maniac!"
  
  "Which leaves us with the question: did he 'forget' to do it because he wanted the explosion of rage of the Narcissist One to be bigger than with the Carthaginian Hydra?"
  
  "Or was he unaware of what the slaver-predator had planned for the Fifth Labour?"
  
  "I suppose we are soon going to have the answer, brother! They are in the arena!"
  
  "Right! To your left, loyal public, are the three members of Team Triumvirate! Their Captain and chief of the Triumvirate insurrection, Mark Antony. With him are two Legionnaires. The smaller one is identified as Lucius Vorenus. The bigger one is Titus Pullo."
  
  "The tall one may not have been chosen for his brains, brother. He's almost as tall as Grant, and our son of Hercules is not bad when it comes to the muscles!"
  
  "Yes, but it is a capture-the-monster game! I suppose muscles are going to be very much needed!"
  
  "Right, brother! And on the other side of the arena, here comes Perseus Jackson, Captain of Team Adjudicator! Followed by his loyal penguin lieutenants, Rico Kowalski and Julian Skipper!"
  
  Jason emptied all the soda in his glass, wondering if he had hallucinations. Apparently not, the legacy of the Earthshaker had really called the penguins to be his back-up.
  
  "I don't know which part is the most surprising," Frank mused by his side, "that the two idiots are still alive, or that someone thought they would be useful in a Labour of murder like this one!"
  
  "I don't see anything wrong with what you said..."
  
  Seriously, what was Jackson thinking?
  
  Yeah, penguins could have been useful for a Labour where diving and swimming was incredibly useful, but this lake was filled with magical traps and explosive ordnance.
  
  If he was gambling that the penguins were too small or too insignificant to be noticed by the traps, the son of Jupiter was very afraid, because it wasn't likely to work.
  
  It didn't get any better when you considered the tools at the disposal of the two Teams. Save the penguins, every 'gladiator' had a kind of 'short-swimsuit', which provided zero protection. All the humans went bare-chested and bare-footed.
  
  When you gave a glance to the mines and the rest of the explosive stuff in the depths of the lake, you couldn't help but feel a pit of despair in your stomach. Save Jackson, who had somehow survived a pit of Greek Fire, it was likely that the first series of traps were going to result in a lot of dead meat.
  
  "The Suicide Squad better have a stupidly clever plan for this one, because I don't see a way to capture a small goldfish in the middle of this mess." And Jason was pretty sure his friend wasn't exaggerating by much.
  
  "And now, Castor, the gates are opening! The Fifth Labour is about to really begin! We are about to see what the Narcissist One has...oh, by all the temples of New Byzantium!"
  
  The exclamation was very much justified.
  
  After the Carthaginian Hydra, no one was surprised by the fact some monsters of the Labours were stupidly huge.
  
  But since it was about 'capturing a monster', Jason had assumed, like plenty of Legionnaires watching the murderous activities labelled as 'Labours', that the target could be technically captured by some Demigods and Legacies, even if the trapped lake made things impossible.
  
  Jason had been deadly wrong, and he wasn't the only one to gape now.
  
  It was colossal.
  
  It was easily bigger than many small elephants that had been used for some parades when the Legions returned victorious some years ago.
  
  It was white.
  
  It was ferocity in the extreme.
  
  It was an enormous mass that seemed to be unstoppable.
  
  It was-
  
  "ALL CHEER FOR THE STAR OF THE FIFTH LABOUR!" The maniac-predator known as Emperor Commodus shouted. "THE CRETAN HIPPOPOTAMUS!"
  
  "Well, it was nice knowing them, I guess..." a Legacy reacted next to them, before ordering an entire cask of wine.
  
  "Look at Perseus Jackson!" Frank told him.
  
  "What."
  
  "Look at the son of Poseidon!"
  
  One of the cameras chose this moment to focus upon him, and there was no despair on the face of the son of the Sea God.
  
  In fact, he was grinning.
  
  22 January 2007, the Arena of the Fifth Labour, Commodus Coliseum, Narcissist Island
  
  Unlike the Fourth Labour, Perseus hadn't known precisely which animal Commodus had crossbred with the Cretan Bull.
  
  It wasn't a failure of imagination, or a lack of concern for what came after the Fourth Labour.
  
  It was just that as Commodus was an avid spectator of Damnatio Ad Bestiaem death sentences, there were just way too many animals that could be used.
  
  The Hippopotamuses had been on his list of 'probable Labour monsters', though he had expected several of them, not one.
  
  Of course, this had not taken into account a trapped lake and the massive size of the crossbred experiment.
  
  "I have to acknowledge it is a remarkable specimen," the former Tyrant said aloud.
  
  "Err...Boss? Boss? It looks really like a very dangerous monster to me!"
  
  The Cretan Hippopotamus yawned in the middle of the lake, revealing fangs that felt more suited for a Drakon than any other species.
  
  "If it bites us-"
  
  "You will be on your way to the Underworld before you realise it killed you." The leader of the Suicide Squad finished Rico's sentence for him.
  
  "We are supposed to capture that?"
  
  The incredulity was not completely unjustified. Even with over two-thirds of its body immerged in the water, the white-skinned Hippopotamus appeared like a small island in the middle of the 'lake'.
  
  And when some large buckets descended from aerial contraptions, both penguins and spectators were free to 'admire' the fangs of the Cretan Hippopotamus again.
  
  "Superb animal," and yes, he was really appreciative. "This white skin is so imbued with magic and the flesh under it has so much magically fat that it can probably shrug off the missiles and most armament of the Inevitable Doom."
  
  The Cretan Bull was already legendary for its natural resistance to practically everything - although most people for some reason focused on its beauty - but the Cretan Hippopotamus put it to an entirely different level.
  
  It was a juggernaut.
  
  It was a hippo in shape, but it was far wiser to see it as a land battleship which appeared to be breathing.
  
  "How are we supposed to capture that, Boss?"
  
  "There's also a little problem," Skipper pointed out. "Since they're feeding it at the centre of the lake, the Big Hippo is not going to move from here!"
  
  "An astute observation," the black-haired Demigod smirked. "Okay, time to prepare the Circus. Don't speak...and don't move."
  
  "Err, Boss, the Triumvirate is trying to-"
  
  BOOM!
  
  "Not to trigger all the traps?" He asked rhetorically. "Don't worry, I have a plan. Here we go for the first step."
  
  It was rather elegant in its simplicity, really.
  
  It wouldn't have worked if there wasn't some solid ground, but Commodus needed it for the cages that were supposed to be ready for the 'capture'.
  
  Perseus removed the tubes of paint he had hidden under his straw hat, and began to trace a pentacle as fast as it was possible.
  
  "I WILL REMIND TEAM ADJUDICATOR THAT FOOLING AROUND WON'T BE TOLERATED FOR LONG."
  
  "As always, you are arrogant and stupid." Perseus didn't bother lowering his tone. "If you weren't, you would have recognised a simple translocation spell. This couldn't have worked if the Telekhines hadn't prepared a tech-beacon, of course, but since they have...MAGITECH!"
  
  This was just the password, obviously.
  
  Purple and black magic flashed out.
  
  The pentacle was now channelling magic, opening the conduit, and while it was physically straining, it was tolerable.
  
  The conduit was opened and stable.
  
  And the weapons of the Forge of the Perils began to pour out.
  
  His commands had been obeyed to the letter; two enormous machine guns, followed by five grenade launchers, some shoulder-launched rocket launchers and their missiles, and obviously, thousands of ammunition rounds to fire them. It all came out in ten seconds.
  
  The laughter of Commodus, the Centaurs, and everyone else suddenly abruptly ceased.
  
  "STOP HIM!"
  
  That, to be honest, had been completely expected.
  
  But it didn't matter. There was enough ammunition now to fulfil the first step of the plan.
  
  "RICO! SKIPPER!"
  
  "YES, BOSS!"
  
  The penguins weren't drooling before the ammunition stockpile getting larger and larger, but they weren't far from it. And yes, they had already put their fins on some very nasty weapons.
  
  "Do you see this nice, undamaged arena, my dear penguin lieutenants?"
  
  "YES, BOSS! KABOOM?"
  
  "I don't want to see it anymore," Perseus smiled. The magic was disrupted, the conduit shut down, but it was too late.
  
  And he could give an order that would be remembered by everyone watching this challenge.
  
  "Kaboom!"
  
  22 January 2007, the Waiting Lodge of Team Adjudicator, upper levels of the Commodus Coliseum
  
  Reyna had expected to watch a capture mission, albeit an impossible one.
  
  Like all the spectators of the Coliseum, however, she was given the first taste of a total war.
  
  "Sister," the daughter of Bellona said warily, not trusting her own voice, "what are exactly are we seeing?"
  
  KABOOOOOM!
  
  "The final end of all madness, aka the penguins finally being unleashed?"
  
  KAAAAABOOOOOM!
  
  "Yes, I suppose that's accurately describing this insanity."
  
  Reyna had sometimes wondered why the Telekhines had been bothering creating some weapon stations with penguin-friendly seats and other devices adapted for the fins of the Gods-cursed Legionnaires.
  
  Now, there was no use wondering anymore.
  
  BOOM! KABOOM! BOOM!
  
  "Is the arena going to survive?"
  
  KAAAAABOOOOOOM!
  
  "I...I don't know..."
  
  Reyna turned her head in direction of the Throne-Lodge.
  
  "Let's see the good news...the Narcissist One is livid. It doesn't like he's enjoying his Fifth Labour anymore."
  
  "Of course, not! The penguins are launching so many shells and bullets they're detonating the entire minefield, strike after strike!"
  
  BOOOOOOM!
  
  Reyna grimaced. She wished to say this was the moment she donned earmuffs, but unfortunately, she did already have some to protect her poor ears.
  
  "Plenty of these magical 'pillars' at the bottom have also been destroyed. And Jackson was right, there was a sort of 'triple-layered net' waiting for anyone trying to deactivate the traps."
  
  "With a strong emphasis on the 'was'," Hylla said as more debris were created by virtue of overwhelming firepower.
  
  KAAABBOOOOOM!
  
  "The penguins are having fun." The youngest of the two daughters of Bellona sighed. "However, I don't see what good it will do. The Cretan Hippopotamus is not exactly hurt by these explosions."
  
  This didn't mean the white-skinned monster had been unaffected by the ruckus and the loud explosions, because it wasn't.
  
  Several times it had tried to charge Jackson and the penguins, but every time, the penguins had hurled plenty of grenades at its head, and while they hadn't done any significant damage, it was clear the monster had preferred to return at the centre of the arena, no matter what Commodus wanted.
  
  "Assuming Jackson knows what he is doing..."
  
  BOOM! KABOOOM!
  
  "Yes, let's assume he does."
  
  Thank Olympus for small mercies, the stockpile of ammunition of the penguins was going to be expended before too long. That and the barrels of the weapons they were using were due some replacements. You couldn't shoot hundreds of times per minute without needing some maintenance and cool-down.
  
  "In that case, the goal of acquiring so many weapons and letting the penguins use them was most likely to destroy all the traps that happened to be hidden under the surface of the lake." Hylla told her in her 'leader-mode'.
  
  BOOOOOOOM!
  
  "That would explain why the penguins are missing the Hippo so much. Their accuracy doesn't suck that badly, from what I heard from the others."
  
  Reyna tried to decipher the reactions of some of the other members of the Suicide Squad, but no luck; Luke Castellan was busy discussing something with Ethan Nakamura, Dakota McDonald was drinking with Grant...and the rest of the officers appeared to be royally bored.
  
  "At least our most powerful members don't appear to be worried."
  
  "Why would they?" Her sister countered her words. "If Jackson could have returned to his lounge chair, I have a feeling he would have done so right now."
  
  As it was, the mad Demigod appeared to have conjured a fishing rod with his Hydrokinesis. But it was no fish Perseus Jackson was after; instead, he seemed to be after some of the debris of magical artefacts, specifically some of wood and metal.
  
  "It has done a good job wiping the lake bed of all the traps. And with all the ammunition flying, the Triumvirate trio has been forced to stay on their corner of the arena doing nothing but watching."
  
  "It's not like they were eager to do anything else. They wanted to build an improvised bridge with an artefact the sorceress of their team gave them, but it was quickly destroyed after a few minutes, and it's a real miracle they were able to swim back to their starting platform intact."
  
  KAAAAABOOOOM!
  
  "We're not losing this Labour." It was assuredly not bad, given how many dead this murderous challenge could have generated if twelve 'gladiators' were sent. "But we're not winning either. I simply don't see how anyone can manage to wrestle that massive Cretan Hippopotamus and drag him into a cage. Trying to go anywhere near this white behemoth is just asking to be trampled or pulverised."
  
  "And since it has the essence of the Cretan Bull within it, it's immune to all blessings made by the God of Seas and Earthquake." Hylla commented while trying to analyse the scale of the penguin-made destruction. "Jackson can't use his Hydrokinesis against the Cretan Hippopotamus, it just isn't going to work, traps or not."
  
  At last, the guns stopped firing, to the disappointment of some gun-maniac Centaurs.
  
  Most of the public, on the other hand, simply breathed out in relief, beginning to remove their earmuffs-
  
  They did put them back them on in the next seconds.
  
  "What in the name of the Kindly Ones is that?"
  
  It was awful.
  
  It was like a Siren had suddenly tried to assassinate them via shrieking. It was like a bard who had forgotten all musical lessons before launching himself in a quest to provoke riots.
  
  It was nerve-wracking.
  
  It was an anti-symphony.
  
  "It's Jackson! I think he is trying to play some music!"
  
  "He's trying to murder our ears, you mean!"
  
  The cacophony generated a lot of outraged braying and screams, but Jackson ignored all the antagonism.
  
  And he continued to play.
  
  From the looks of it, the leader of the Suicide Squad had managed to build himself a flute from the debris of magical artefacts, though of course, he hadn't bothered checking if it wasn't going to make them deaf first!
  
  Reyna almost cried relief when it ended.
  
  "Now that I have your attention..." the daughter of Bellona, for a single second, understood the sheer wrathful emotion spreading from Mars and Commodus, pushing everyone to try to murder Perseus Jackson.
  
  "Now that I have your attention, my friend, I am afraid it is time for your holiday to this first-class spa!"
  
  Reyna blinked, wondering if the anti-symphony had not destroyed something within her head.
  
  "What is he saying? We aren't anywhere near a spa! And the facilities of the Ludus, as good as they are, can't compare to-"
  
  "CERBERUS! MY ETERNAL FRIEND! I HAVE FOUND A NICE HIPPOPOTAMUS WHO WANTS TO PLAY WITH YOU!"
  
  In the distance, something gigantic barked in joy.
  
  "No..." Reyna heard Clarisse La Rue outright giggling and Miranda Gardiner beginning to laugh hysterically. "No, he wouldn't dare-"
  
  These were infamous last words, for less than five seconds later, the giant guardian of the Underworld made a remarked entrance by jumping into the lake, generating a colossal splash...and terrifying at least half of the monstrous audience.
  
  "Right," her big sister managed to articulate in a weak voice. "Imperial Circus."
  
  22 January 2007, the Movie Room of the Onyx Palace, the Underworld
  
  The room smelled of sex, food, and other pleasant things.
  
  There was a lot of pleasant activities you could try in a hall-sized 'movie room' when you were alone with your three wives, and why would the Master of the Underworld not enjoy them?
  
  Watching the exploits of the Suicide Squad had merely been something bringing plenty of fun before the too-long Interlude.
  
  This had been true until seconds ago.
  
  If pressed, all occupants of the Movie Room would agree unanimously it was no longer the case.
  
  Hades thought he had seen everything.
  
  The view of his faithful Cerberus chasing a giant white hippopotamus across a flooded arena, however, was completely and utterly unprecedented.
  
  "Imperial Circus, indeed." The Lord of Hell chuckled. "I believe we will need to order more popcorn, among other things."
  
  "Hermes is hinting at an upcoming shortage, husband." Persephone told him while her head was against his chest. "It sounds like Oceanus and Poseidon have made some massive orders for their court, and paid at a premium."
  
  "One wonders why," Khione joked, as she placed a kiss on Calypso's cheek. "Well, Cerberus is having fun, at least."
  
  Left unsaid was that the Cretan Hippopotamus, for one, was definitely not 'having fun'.
  
  The once-placid and slow animal was properly terrified, and was trying to escape the implacable pursuit of Cerberus.
  
  Alas for the spiritual descendant of the Cretan Bull, the Hippopotamus was completely outmatched. And Cerberus had a long experience of chasing perfidious souls trying to swim across the different rivers of his domain.
  
  Some small amount of water wasn't going to slow the courageous three-headed dog for a single second.
  
  "Now at least we know why your nephew insisted so much in taking Cerberus with him, no matter how expensive the 'reward' for a spa holiday might be." Persephone noted. "It wasn't just about rewarding Cerberus; it was a contingency plan too. The music of his flute couldn't have possibly reached through Hell, but for something in the Zone Mortalis, it was perfectly sufficient."
  
  "He removed all the traps, be they magical or explosive, that could have caused a problem for Cerberus at any moment of time," Calypso added. "And of course, after what happened to the Hydra, Commodus immediately shut down the gates when the Fifth Labour began, so that the Cretan Hippopotamus couldn't flee if there was a panic-inducing phenomenon."
  
  "It is assuredly a brilliant plan," Hades replied sincerely. "When the arena environment was presented, I thought Jackson was going to be willing to sacrifice Spartacus and a few Telekhines in order to blast apart the minefield and the pillars which could transform them into animals. But this solution is truly unique and far better than anything I thought of."
  
  "I'm a bit disappointed he didn't send my Champion," Calypso pouted.
  
  "We will have to let Khione's get all the applause for today," Persephone remarked. "Once Cerberus will have stopped playing with his friend, of course."
  
  "Of course," the Master of the Underworld approved.
  
  The moment it was going to stop was not so far away, to say the truth. While per the strictures, Cerberus' presence in the arena was perfectly legal and did not represent any violation of the Adjudicator Game's rules, the Guardian of the Underworld couldn't stay away for too long away from his home realm.
  
  Perseus Jackson knew that, and Hades was sure his nephew was not going to abuse it.
  
  In fact, the main reason Cerberus was allowed so long to play with the Cretan Hippopotamus in the first place was-
  
  "STOP THIS! STOP THIS AT ONCE!"
  
  Yes, the reason was to humiliate Commodus, predator of narcissism and megalomania.
  
  Khione giggled, and she didn't hide her joy when she spoke.
  
  "Oh look, the imbecile at last understands the scale of his mistakes. Yes, it isn't funny anymore when the biggest guardian is on the other side?"
  
  "I DEMAND THIS CIRCUS TO CEASE AT ONCE!"
  
  "Circus," Persephone began to laugh with her beautiful voice, "he used the word 'circus'."
  
  "I hope he's ready to utter it again and again," Calypso said in a tone that tried to stay serious, yet failed openly. "Oh look, Cerberus caught the Cretan Hippopotamus!"
  
  "Yes, it seems the endurance of the poor animal ran out."
  
  Hades was honestly curious to learn how all these new monsters had been bred. It was hardly a simple process for a God, and the son of Marcus Aurelius was definitely not one. Yes, he had no doubt a lot of support from other traitors, but this was definitely an exploit to manage to merge the essence of some legendary monsters with other animals.
  
  "I wonder what it will do for the Labour which was supposedly about our loyal three-headed guardian."
  
  "The 'ignoble Narcissist' almost certainly used a few Hellhounds for his experiments. They're all descendants of Cerberus, no matter how distant."
  
  He could be wrong, but it was likely the most reasonable assumption. Though he may have to contact his nephew beforehand. Commodus had received his bad news in front of hundreds of thousands of spectators, Hades personally preferred to be proactive about them.
  
  "HE CHEATED! THIS IS CHEATING!"
  
  "I have a feeling, husband, that your nephew indeed managed to destroy the self-control of this treacherous predator for the second time today," Khione pointed out. "And this time, he did it for good."
  
  "You're right."
  
  Commodus had no one to blame but himself, of course. The Fourth Labour and the Carthaginian Hydra should have raised a lot of alarms inside his head. If Perseus Jackson after all felt confident enough to give you a letter beforehand about the type of monster the Suicide Squad was going to face, why by the Pit wouldn't he have a clue about the Fifth Labour? Why wouldn't he have another 'Circus Plan' to deal with the trapped arena and the Cretan Hippopotamus?
  
  "Commodus received...not exactly everything he deserved, for this will only happen when he will be dragged to an unpleasant torment in the Fields of Punishment. But he was humiliated twice, and the work of years was burned to ashes just in two Labours."
  
  Cerberus was now pushing the Cretan Hippopotamus, and the white monster was not stupid; given the chance, it charged directly towards the cage of Team Adjudicator.
  
  Half an hour ago, it no doubt had been a prison and a symbol of captivity.
  
  Now? Now it was a refuge against the attentions of Cerberus.
  
  Hades was rather sure he saw the giant spiritual descendant of the Cretan Bull sigh in relief when Perseus Jackson closed the cage and sealed it magically.
  
  "The Fifth Labour is done, and it is the third victory of Team Adjudicator," Calypso giggled. "And it looks like Commodus is trying to imitate a tomato, his face is crimson enough to pass as one..."
  
  22 January 2007, Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  The Germani and all the males in service of the Narcissist Predator had laughed a lot at the girls' enslavement, oh yes. They had enjoyed watching their defilement and unwilling submission.
  
  They had applauded eagerly after each session where rape and humiliating positions were the norm.
  
  Now? They laughed no longer. Now it was the turn of the Nemean Lionesses to feel joy internally.
  
  For the Praetorians and the other personnel in charge of the Labours finally understood what it felt like to be at the mercy of the Narcissist Predator.
  
  In his rage, the High Judge had already killed fifteen of them...after uttering an insincere apology to the audience about the non-cheating that no one would ever be stupid enough to believe.
  
  The survivors were now grovelling in abject terror.
  
  "YOU PROMISED ME IT WAS A FLAWLESS PLAN! THE LABOUR IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR MERE MORTALS TO ACCOMPLISH, YOU SAID!"
  
  Of course, none of the Germani had uttered these words. It was the Narcissist Predator who had spoken the sentences, each word dripping with arrogance.
  
  The plan, as every spectator now was aware of, had not been so flawless as to resist the crazy ideas of one Perseus Jackson.
  
  "HOW IS IT POSSIBLE YOU DIDN'T TAKE INTO ACCOUNT THE PRESENCE OF THIS HELLHOUND SO CLOSE TO MY EMPIRE? AM I THE ONLY ONE-"
  
  "Come back, Cerberus."
  
  The furious rambling of Commodus died in his throat.
  
  This was the sort of things which happened when a maelstrom of pure darkness materialised in the arena.
  
  The three-headed Guardian of the Underworld barked joyfully, and then jumped without a glance back for Perseus Jackson or the Suicide Squad.
  
  The Great Hellhound vanished, and the storm of darkness did the same less than ten heartbeats later.
  
  There was a...considerable period of silence after that, both from the public and the supporters of Commodus. It was unsurprising. Even the greatest imbecile in the world couldn't exactly miss the implications: Hades had been watching this Labour, and now that the victory of Team Adjudicator was proclaimed, he was calling back Cerberus.
  
  That was not the Lord of Hell handing a seal of approval to the son of Poseidon, but it was the closest thing from it one could imagine.
  
  And yes, judging by the half-desperate, half-angry face of the Narcissist Predator, Commodus was perfectly aware how much he had screwed up.
  
  "It was a nice circus!" the Second Referee decided to intervene. "And with this Fifth Labour over, I believe we are due some changed in the Scoreboard!"
  
  The brilliant letters flashed brightly, and all around the stadium, the giant screens were modified.
  
  Scores after 5 Labours:
  
  Team Adjudicator effectives: 79
  
  Team Triumvirate effectives: 71
  
  Labours won by Team Adjudicator: 3.5
  
  Labours won by Team Triumvirate: 0.5
  
  There was much to say about the two Labours of today. Obviously, it was not over. There still were seven Labours for both teams to participate into. But Team Adjudicator had now a massive advance over their challengers. And once you looked at how Perseus Jackson had dominated every Labour he had been involved in, it was really difficult to see how Mark Antony and his team could reduce this major gap.
  
  As for the Narcissist Predator, clearly, he had accomplished none of his goals for today. He hadn't enslaved more girls for his depraved soul. He hadn't managed to kill a single member of Team Adjudicator or Team Triumvirate.
  
  And last but not least, there were plenty of Centaurs rioting in the stands. Many automaton troops had been committed to stop the fighting. But all the grumbling and the accusations could be heard from where she was. The spectators were unhappy, and already rumours were spreading the 'High Judge' was not the man of the situation.
  
  "Yes," the voice was acidic and swimming in hatred. "Thank you for this point, Second Referee."
  
  "You're welcome!"
  
  "Evidently, the gladiator games are in need of some changes, in order to preserve the interest of the competition." The glaring directed at the half-giant was vindictive in the extreme. "And there will be changes, I promise this."
  
  Commodus truly looked like a mad beast now. His purple toga was missing, undoubtedly because he had used to strangle one of his 'Senators' some minutes ago. His body was sweating, and he had a lot of blood spots all over his body.
  
  But the thing which won the contest of dreadfulness was the eyes. Someone in the Suicide Squad had told that the Narcissist was not crazy like Jackson was.
  
  At the moment, Panther Kowalski wasn't so sure.
  
  He wasn't like Jackson, yes. Jackson didn't lose his self-control after a defeat, no matter how bad it was.
  
  Commodus...it seemed that defeat had ripped off the veil of sanity he was projecting to the world. All what was left now was cruelty and hatred.
  
  "You could acknowledge your defeat too!" One of the members of Team Triumvirate screamed in the distance.
  
  It was a pleasant insult to hurl in the Narcissist Predator's face.
  
  Muscles tightened. Eyes glared, promising nothing but torture and death.
  
  "I. AM. NOT. DEFEATED." Every word seemed to be poisoned and protected by a wall of sharp weapons. "THE LABOURS WILL CONTINUE! THIS IS THE WILL OF NEO HERCULES!"
  
  Such was the fury and the humiliation burning within the monster's heart that it took him several seconds to realise he had not given them the order to follow him to his odious lair.
  
  This promised nothing good for tonight, but there was a minor consolation: Panther and all her sisters were able to hear all the boos and the insults coming from the entire Coliseum, and plenty of vulgar obscenities were not directed at the Suicide Squad or any Demigod...
  
  23 January 2007, Primus Ludus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  They didn't have the means or the motivation to equal of the legendary parties which occurred every year on Independence's Day, but there was some celebration. And it was continuing long past the sun set.
  
  Miracle of miracles, the remaining Huntresses were almost tolerable tonight, and the Ares-sworn mercenaries had been on their best behaviour; as a result the latter had been given plentiful meals and a few drinks while remaining in their prison-hall.
  
  And there were good reasons to rejoice, Richard Grant had to admit.
  
  One more day had passed. No one had died or been enslaved, and one and a half victory had been won.
  
  It was a major performance, made it all the more incredible when you considered how dangerous the opposition was.
  
  But.
  
  Yes, there was a 'but'.
  
  The 'but' was to be followed by 'Commodus yet lived'.
  
  The Narcissist lived, and the son of Hercules had looked at his face before the rapist stormed out of his golden lodge.
  
  Watching the silent Coliseum as the enchanted torches remained the only source of light of the island, Richard felt more worried than he should be after a victory like this.
  
  "Ah, Grant. A Drachma for you thoughts?"
  
  "Jackson. We good Romans use Denarii, you know. And I like to think my thoughts are worth far more than a Denarius."
  
  "You may certainly think so, I can't possibly comment." The son of Poseidon chuckled while agitating another bottle, this one filled with lemon soda. "Drink?"
  
  "Yes, please."
  
  The glasses were filled, but didn't last that way for long. Their thirst made sure the liquid wasn't wasted.
  
  They drank in silence, in the formidable shadow of the Coliseum.
  
  "I was a bit surprised you allowed everyone to party so readily," Richard decided to open the conversation since it was clear Perseus Jackson wouldn't. "After all, theoretically, we have two Labours to participate in tomorrow."
  
  "The two Labours of tomorrow were cancelled." The red eye of the son of Poseidon shone with something that almost looked like melancholy. "Commodus delayed them after the Fourth Labour; he outright removed them after the Fifth."
  
  It didn't take a genius to wonder why.
  
  "He feared he was going to be handed a new humiliation."
  
  "Correction, Grant: he was going to be humiliated." The younger Demigod bared his teeth. "Our ignoble host revealed most of his cards during the Third Labour, and in return, I had no difficulty recognising the story and the ritual he used for the screw-up he wants to call an Apotheosis. Once the surprises are done, it is not really that difficult to play around his rules. And in all modesty, I am far more capable of adapting on short notice than he is."
  
  "Yes, you are." He acknowledged readily. "And you don't kill your followers when you are defeated."
  
  The end of the Fifth Labour had showed exactly why serving Commodus was a bad idea. Yes, there was some good pay, or at least Richard assumed there was, otherwise there wouldn't be so many mercenaries lining up on this island. But no pay was good enough when your employer killed you in a fit of rage.
  
  "I've always felt that if you really want to kill someone, it has to be...educational. And killing the messenger, as amusing as it can be, will certainly convince all the other messengers to not bring you the bad news. Or to outright falsify the news so that bad news can't reach your ears. I can tell you from experience it can lead to...tedious outcomes."
  
  Richard shook his head.
  
  "Apparently, Commodus doesn't share your opinion. And he didn't think for a single second about stopping the incoming disaster."
  
  "In all fairness, Grant, if he manages to stop the ritual without blowing himself in the process, Commodus will never be able to accomplish his Apotheosis. I doubt his ego can tolerate that state of affairs. Not that it will be a problem for long, because the moment the Adjudicator Games end, the Goddess of the Hunt is going to slay him. I don't know if she will use his flayed carcass as a banner or if she will feed him piece by piece to her dogs, but I am sure it will be a very painful way to die."
  
  Yes, that was a good point. And all the other Olympians were not too fond of Commodus either.
  
  Really, they all hated him. Compared to the master of Narcissist Island, Tantalus had been an amateur when it came to antagonise the Gods.
  
  "Okay, he is delaying the Labours. That's just delaying the inevitable, or am I missing something? I don't think you can breed some extraordinary foes in forty-eight hours or something."
  
  "The monsters which were bred for these murderous gladiator games indeed can't be empowered more than they are." The leader of the Suicide Squad confirmed. "That's why our ignoble host was so angry, in case you had any doubt. No, Commodus is in a very bad situation. He knows I have a good idea of the scenario of each Labour waiting for us, beginning with the crossbreeding of the monsters. And he knows his best isn't good enough to outthink me. That's a big problem, and he has basically two choices to remedy to it."
  
  "With the first being to pray for the best, I take it?"
  
  "Close," the legacy of the Earthshaker replied as he ate some mini-pizzas and refilled their glasses. "He can delay for a bit, change the order of the remaining Labours, add more traps, and outright blackmail some monsters of the audience to participate into the game, voluntarily or not. The problem for him, really, is that many of the Labours left were created to capture and enslave his 'New Thespiades', not wipe out the opposition."
  
  "Are you sure?" It wasn't like he doubted Jackson's words, but-
  
  "Grant. It is not a mistake we have yet to see the Labour of the Nemean Lion."
  
  The Roman Demigod knew his face had to show a grimace of disgust.
  
  "Oh."
  
  "Yes, 'oh'. Of course, he can add more monsters, more traps, and other unpleasant surprises, but in the end, it is not good for him. Unlike our Team, which has always a clear and simple goal of winning as many Labours as possible while the 'gladiators' have to survive them, Commodus has the dual challenge of eliminating as many of us while enslaving and raping the Thespiades."
  
  The son of Hercules finished his lemon soda thoughtfully. One way or another, it seemed something could be said about the 'High Judge'.
  
  "His arrogance and his overconfidence are really going to be his undoing."
  
  Then he remembered Jackson's previous words.
  
  "That's his first choice. Since he does know he is going to be more humiliated than he was today, he won't choose that option. What's the second possibility?"
  
  "He calls all the beings that were partially or incompletely involved in the creation of this arena of monsters, and he genuinely begs for their help."
  
  He blinked.
  
  "And...is it...likely?"
  
  "Is it likely they will give Commodus the support he is now craving?" Perseus Jackson shrugged. "I don't know. I think it is on the order of sixty-forty in his disfavour now. I don't know the identity of the players, I have only guesses. But given how much our ignoble host did screw up, every sensible being will have the temptation to let him sink on his own. It would be an excellent lesson for every ambitious scoundrel that Emperor or not, if you screws up enough, there are going to be consequences."
  
  Richard did agree with the logic of it. And honestly, the sooner he could face and kill the Narcissist, the better.
  
  "Have you thought about-"
  
  The night shivered, and suddenly, it was if the shadows came alive.
  
  The sensation was completely different from Hades' intervention to call back his Cerberus. It was far less potent, and yet, it seemed to echo through the night as a dark promise of destruction.
  
  It was something that he had felt before, in the depths of the Forge of All Perils.
  
  It was-
  
  "Jackson? Is it her?"
  
  "Yes, Grant. Nocturna is nearby. It seems Commodus screamed for help, and the Sire of the Drakons sent her to listen to his whining."
  
  23 January 2007, Commodianopolis' Command Room, the foundations of Commodus Coliseum
  
  Nocturna didn't enjoy being in Commodus' presence.
  
  Then again, it was certain few people in all of the realms of the Sky, Earth, Sea, and Underworld would pretend the opposite.
  
  Bah, she could be honest.
  
  She was disgusted by the existence of Commodus.
  
  Not because he was a rapist, an arrogant bastard, or that his taste of Nemean Clothing was utterly ridiculous. Nocturna had removed these human emotions from herself when she gave herself entirely to her Sire.
  
  No, she hated Commodus because he hadn't earned his power. There was no struggle. There was no sweating, no attempt to become stronger and claim greater skills for himself.
  
  Commodus was a spoiled child that had never had to bleed to rise to the heights of power that remained inaccessible to most Demigods.
  
  And when someone inflicted upon him a massive defeat, his immediate reactions were to sulk, threw a tantrum, and of course blame others for his many failures.
  
  As her Sire had confided to her, it didn't take a Seer to know Perseus Jackson was going to kick him where it hurt, no matter how many priceless advantages were poured in to provide the illusion of a victory.
  
  "Your appearance is an insult my divinity," the man-child complained when she entered his not-so-secret throne room. "Do you realise what you did to yourself, girl? A bat?"
  
  Nocturna had to remind herself she hadn't the permission to murder Commodus. Not yet, anyway.
  
  And it was really an accusation reeking of hypocrisy.
  
  Nocturna had done many things to become what she was today, but there was one thing clear in her mind: she had not lost.
  
  "Beggars should have the intelligence to be a bit less arrogant," she told the pathetic waste of flesh and bones. "Your opinion of what I am is irrelevant. Now dismiss your slaves."
  
  For yes, the nullity calling himself Commodus had added incompetence to his list of flaws. There were two Nemean Lionesses prostrated at his feet, and four others present in the room.
  
  Nocturna didn't even know why the incapable Emperor had kept them here. Did he really think they would be able to protect him from her if it came to violence?
  
  Please.
  
  Nemean Lionesses could be redoubtable, but not when you held their leash to this degree, and not against someone having her powers and her skills.
  
  "I do not-"
  
  "Remove these slaves from my presence, or this audience immediately comes to an end."
  
  The Sire had been really clear in his orders, and Nocturna saw completely the logic of them.
  
  "You would abandon me at my moment of triumph?"
  
  Nocturna laughed.
  
  "You are nowhere near victory, Commodus, and the triumph is so far away it could be on another planet for all the good it will do to you. I watched the Labours of today, and so did my Sire. Perseus Jackson humiliated you. It is he who is winning."
  
  "And whose fault is that?" Ah yes, of course the Emperor couldn't be wrong about anything, could he?
  
  "Yours," the former Demigoddess inspected her perfect black wings. "And yes, my Sire is perfectly ready to abandon you."
  
  "Perseus Jackson-"
  
  "Will kill you, though he may let some of his lieutenants torture you first. It will not present a serious problem to my Sire's plans."
  
  At last, the failure ordered the enslaved Lionesses to leave the room.
  
  One more failure of the pathetic man, that. The transformed Huntresses and young women did not fear him anymore.
  
  They hated him, she could taste it, and a blind idiot would see it.
  
  Some ancient philosophers said power corrupted.
  
  In the case of Commodus, power clearly increased his incompetence.
  
  "Now that we are alone," and it was frustrating it had taken this amount of time to be wasted, no matter that her Sire had warned her it would be the case, "speak your piece, Commodus."
  
  "I am the glorious God-Emperor Neo-"
  
  "I don't care." Nocturna gained a certain amount of satisfaction from the idiot's face turning crimson. "You come as a supplicant, Commodus. Do not dare forgetting that for a heartbeat, because my Sire assuredly won't."
  
  It was really a pity the rules of the Adjudicator Challenge protected a High Judge tot his degree. Otherwise, Nocturna was sure Perseus would have removed that odious imbecile before the end of the Fifth Labour.
  
  Alas, the protections were what they were, and Commodus lived. For now.
  
  "I..." she almost expected to hear another rant, but while teeth gritted against other teeth, the man-child had some degree of self-control. "I humbly request the support of the Coalition to defeat Perseus Jackson and his band of overpowered clowns."
  
  This wasn't a humble request, no.
  
  It was clear he wasn't truly 'requesting', of course.
  
  But Commodus still had supporters, though they didn't back him for his personality.
  
  Nocturna bared her fangs.
  
  "I suppose I do have to listen to the request of a petitioner, in the name of my Sire." She conjured the shadows, and uttered a long incantation.
  
  It didn't take long for the room to change, and one by one for twelve thrones of shadow to coalesce slowly into existence.
  
  These were the twelve thrones of the Coalition.
  
  One belonged to her Sire.
  
  The others...some of the others had no holder at the moment of this conversation.
  
  She knew Commodus desired one, but it had been conditional upon a major success during the 'Twelve Labours'. And it wasn't the case, to put it mildly.
  
  Of course, everyone knew the request from Commodus was going to come tonight.
  
  Everyone had watched his humiliation, in live or in replay.
  
  No wonder some thrones were remaining completely dark and inactive.
  
  In fact, so far, no one had answered.
  
  Nocturna teleported onto the throne of her Sire.
  
  "By his will, I stand as his Herald." If she hadn't, the punishment would have been extremely painful. "I think it is going to be quick, Emperor Commodus."
  
  "I did exactly what you asked of me!" The self-proclaimed 'Neo Hercules' roared. And by the Pit, this name was really ridiculous, wasn't it?
  
  "You screwed up," Nocturna happily put him in the place he deserved. "I know my Sire warned you explicitly not to reveal the 'Thespiades Plan' before Perseus Jackson and Bianca Di Angelo were dead or unable to participate. Did you really think they couldn't add two plus two? You ignored it, and you paid the price."
  
  "The plan can be modified. I can still win. If you give me another chance-"
  
  "HA! Seriously? Another chance? You were given the prize of a lifetime! You were given enough resources to buy a country! You were given intelligence and assets that your opposition could only dream of. You are a failure. I think you should go to a circus like Jackson begged you to, that way, everyone will have a laugh!"
  
  For all of her Sire's warnings, Nocturna almost jumped when the voice made itself heard.
  
  "Now, now, lovely Nocturna, let's not be too harsh with poor Commodus. The son of Poseidon has proven to be more resourceful than many of us imagined."
  
  A shape materialised onto the throne on the extreme left.
  
  It quickly took a refined and civilised human shape, though as Nocturna knew, it had not ever been human.
  
  But the final result was very human-like.
  
  If you were a mere mortal with no divine sight or ability to see through the Mist, you would certainly believe that there was a man sitting upon a throne.
  
  Said man wore a tuxedo like he was born to don one every day, and his black hair were tied in a ponytail.
  
  There was, however, nothing in the Mist that could hide the massive scars covering a third of his face.
  
  "Lord Prometheus," Commodus bowed with serious alacrity.
  
  Nothing incredibly surprising; the Titan had been the protector of the former Roman Emperor for centuries.
  
  "My dear Commodus, it seems your impatience has led you into trouble again!"
  
  "He has failed. Again." Nocturna had been told to play a role by her Sire, and she had no problem with it. Some members of the Coalition may think Commodus might be a useful tool, but she didn't share their confidence.
  
  "His main mission is incomplete, but some of the objectives have been achieved," a third throne was suddenly no longer empty. "Eighteen girls changed into Nemean Lionesses. The Goddess of the Hunt was humiliated, as her servants charged recklessly into a trap which not only broke their ancient allegiance, but reforged them into the perfect slaves."
  
  "Lord Goldfinger!"
  
  For all the abilities of her Sire to predict the future, it was sometimes difficult to tolerate such stupidity.
  
  "Are we going to play this game for long, Midas?"
  
  The holder of the throne separated by two empty seats from Commodus was human. It wasn't an illusion. But where Prometheus had some elegance and lethality despite his scars, the newly arrived Coalition member was just ugly. He was orange-haired, hardly prone to physical exercise, and completely unsuited for a hunt or a battlefield.
  
  "Lovely Nocturna, we have all our little hobbies." Prometheus gently chided her. "Yes, our dear Midas takes great pleasure into having inspired the character of Auric Goldfinger for the novels of Sir Fleming. I find it really charming!"
  
  Nocturna didn't reply.
  
  No words were really necessary.
  
  Prometheus was the Titan of Crafty Counsel and Forethought. Playing his games was something that rarely ended well for those who opposed him.
  
  And yes, Prometheus had brought Fire to the race of Man long ago. What people ignored was that Prometheus had done it as the Titan of Malice and Catastrophes.
  
  Nocturna didn't really care about the outcome. But it was a reminder to never accept the 'gifts' of the seemingly-frail Titan.
  
  "Still, Nocturna, proud envoy of the Sire, has a point," Midas took a large cigar between his fingers, but did not search for a matchstick. Not that it would be a problem, since it was only a magical representation of the gold-seeker, and they wouldn't smell the smoke anyway. "I, like many esteemed members of this fraternity, invested some non-insignificant resources in this project. I expected more."
  
  "The son of Poseidon-"
  
  Commodus tried to blame someone else, only to be immediately stopped.
  
  "The son of Poseidon is an amusing Demigod after my own heart." Prometheus seemed suddenly genuinely happy. "But he can't be accused of everything, Commodus! Otherwise...otherwise we would have to invite him among our brotherhood, no?"
  
  The horrified expression of the man-child was truly a thing to behold.
  
  "Fortunately, for you, Commodus, I am a great believer in second chances."
  
  "Prometheus!" Midas called out.
  
  "Auric Goldfinger! Are you going to deny we don't have a superb chance of weakening two major Olympians before our great plans are put into motion?"
  
  The Treasurer of the Coalition bit his cigar like the object had done him some great injustice.
  
  "We have the possibility of weakening, maybe defeating completely the God of War," Midas grumbled, conceding the point raised by the Titan. "I doubt your boy can weaken the Virgin further. Jackson isn't going to let the Huntresses repeat their stupidity of the Third Labour."
  
  "Excellent," Nocturna knew it was no illusion that the eyes of the Titan had suddenly began to burn, though the humans in the room had clearly not noticed it. "I believe it is time to call for a vote, yes?"
  
  It was a formality, and part of her nature didn't like it. Alas, there was nothing but doubling up on patience.
  
  Two voices for, one abstention. The support for the pathetic man-child was going to continue.
  
  "Now for the boring practicalities." Prometheus said cheerfully. "Commodus?"
  
  "I have reported all the Labours which were to occur tomorrow," the bearded Roman began eagerly. "But I can only delay for so long. I can make sure the Centaurs and the other species spend their time drinking inside the pits of depravation that they call 'ocean liners' for several days. But the ritual will end on the twenty-sixth, one way or another."
  
  Yes, with him a God, or him as a particular bloody example of why you don't challenge an Olympian Goddess in all impunity...
  
  "Then the twenty-sixth of January it is." Prometheus nodded. "I believe it will be just enough time for resources to arrive and the pre-Labour preparations to be complete."
  
  "How?" Midas asked, clearly unconvinced by the argument.
  
  "By deploying what you were unwilling to commit the first time."
  
  Nocturna was almost impressed by the audacity of Prometheus. Or the malice. Yes, it was more malice than audacity. The Labours were about to become a bloodbath...for anyone who might be too close to this island.
  
  "Why would my Sire accept?" That said, for the first time, it was interesting, her Sire had told her there was only one path out of three-
  
  "I will cease my objections and agree to the test your Sire wanted to attempt in the Coliseum."
  
  Of course Prometheus had to say the very thing her Sire wanted.
  
  "In that case, my Sire consents."
  
  "Thank you, lovely Nocturna. Goldfinger? I need bullion."
  
  "You know I don't have the ability to transform gold with a single touch anymore, right?" the Treasurer immediately complained. "This went away when I bargained to remove these cursed donkey ears!"
  
  Prometheus looked at him like he was a disobedient child.
  
  "I know your fortune is thriving." The Titan smiled. "And I will in exchange authorise the testing of some of your organisation's inventions."
  
  Goldfinger silently bit the cigar twice more, before giving his assent.
  
  "Excellent! Really excellent! I promise you, the end of these Twelve Labours is going to be something everyone watching will remember for his entire life!"
  
  That or Perseus Jackson was going to kill Commodus.
  
  The man-child had accepted the Titan's gifts...and her instincts told her it was not going to end well for him.
  
  "But one thing has to be clear: this is the second chance of Commodus. There won't be a third one."
  
  23 January 2007, Primus Ludus Magnus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Perseus stepped out of his bedroom in an extremely good mood.
  
  Yesterday had been an extremely good day, after all. Not a perfect day: perfection was the enemy of improvement, and there was much to improve.
  
  Commodus had been humiliated, yes, but there was a lack of shocking betrayals that would have to be remedied too.
  
  The former Tyrant took care to close the door delicately behind him: Lou Ellen was clearly not as ready as he to wake up early. In fact, daughters of Hecate in general were having the worst difficulties to be energetic in the morning. A balance between their passion at late hours of the night, maybe, though he was not so suicidal to say it aloud in front of witnesses.
  
  Perseus took two steps in direction of the stairs.
  
  And then he sighed.
  
  "Do you intend to watch me for long like a tenebrous presence, Bane of Rome?"
  
  "Don't call me that."
  
  The tone was almost one of a growl.
  
  It felt also coarse, exhausted. It was if the throat of the Demigod had screamed too many times, and it was now unable to regenerate itself.
  
  Knowing what he did, it was far from impossible.
  
  Perseus crossed his arms as the ex-guest of Hades came forwards. It said quite something that of all members of Team Adjudicator, the legendary gladiator had never removed his armour in public, despite the clear absence of danger.
  
  "Why?"
  
  "Why did I choose you? I thought I said it before. I had need of someone who could survive in the arena."
  
  "No." The ancient son of Nemesis rasped. "Why didn't you use me yesterday?"
  
  Ah, that.
  
  "Why would I waste one of my important teammates when I had better alternatives?" He replied with a shrug. "Besides, I am not a spendthrift at heart."
  
  That was a lie. He was perfectly happy to spend significant resources in mere minutes if the situation required it and the assets were available.
  
  "You aren't telling the truth."
  
  No, he wasn't, though how the other Demigod had known that would be interesting to discover.
  
  "You got me," was it his red eye which had betrayed him? "Can I make you a confidence, Spartacus? Had I been able to get your friend Oenomaus on my team, I would have sent you as an opening gambit for every Labour opening the day."
  
  "Oenomaus would not have obeyed your commands like I do."
  
  "It's funny, you seem to be under some complete ignorance how bargaining truly works, my murderous lieutenant."
  
  "Call it by its proper name: slavery." Oh, a big growl, how threatening...right, that was another lie.
  
  Perseus yawned.
  
  "Slavery is forcing someone to work for you without giving you any payment. I believe I paid for your services, Spartacus. Something about ending your imprisonment in the Fields of Punishment, joining up with some of your old comrades, and a few more favours."
  
  "This is still slavery. You are on the side of the Romans."
  
  The hatred for a single culture was still astonishingly high, over two thousand years after certain events.
  
  "There are Romans on every side these days." The son of Poseidon drily commented. "And honestly, if you and your accomplices had not been busy rampaging like mad beasts across Italy, you would have realised that not all Romans were hostile to your ideas. Many citizens of the Eternal City, including Senators, were quite eager to get rid of slavery. But when you went on to butcher everyone who looked at you funny, they decided to stay quiet and voted for Crassus and Caesar to get rid of you and your rebels."
  
  "The slavers got everything they deserved."
  
  "Now who's lying?" Perseus grinned. "You killed at least two of my half-sisters, Spartacus. And that's not counting the other dozen of female Demigods who were impaled upon your blades. You never acknowledged that perhaps the Olympians would have been a bit more eager to support your cause if you didn't desecrate the bodies of their children?"
  
  "They supported the slavers." But the voice of the gladiator was far more hesitant this time. As it should be. For all the arrogance, for all the hatred and the fury, many Demigods and Legacies killed during the Rebellion had not been fighters. They had been on the path of Spartacus' army...and it had been enough for the worst atrocities to happen.
  
  "They supported the culture they'd always known." Perseus replied. "Freeing the slaves and hanging the worst pieces of scum you could find would have been justice. Instead, you chose blind and bloody revenge. We know the results, don't we? When your fellow gladiators and Roman citizens met each other, it was for the worse and for the worst. From there, the Roman aristocracy had no problem uniting to deal with you. And you were still lucky that at the beginning, the best Generals were outside Italy, otherwise you wouldn't have managed to win so many successes."
  
  All of this was the truth, by the way. But it wasn't the worst part of the problem. No, that 'honour' belonged to the sad reality that century after century, men had repeated the same bloodbaths, and honestly expected different results.
  
  It was like they wanted to be heroes, but thought that the methods of the Dread Emperors of Praes would give them eternal friendship and popular approval. How strange! Surprisingly, it wasn't working.
  
  "The other gladiators-"
  
  "Oenomaus, the Master of Beasts, son of Phorcys. Flamma, the Living Legend, son of Venus." The latter had also sired children with almost half of the Senators' wives of his time, it went without saying. "What of them?"
  
  "You didn't want them only because they were gladiators. You wanted them because they were instructors."
  
  What was this word, again? Ah yes, it was 'busted'. On the other hand, his motives had hardly been very hard to understand in the first place. That's why he had gotten Spartacus but not the two others.
  
  "You see? When you use your head, you can be as clever as all the other cunning minds of this Ludus, Spartacus."
  
  The son of Poseidon turned his back to the son of Nemesis, and went to descend the stairs.
  
  "This conversation is not over!"
  
  "Oh," Perseus didn't slow down or turn his head again. "And what else is there to discuss?"
  
  "You...you...you did not annihilate all the Romans when you had the chance!"
  
  "Rome is an idea, these days, my murderous lieutenant. I'm afraid it's behind my power and my intelligence to utterly crush it."
  
  The door of the refectory was still closed at this hour; there were a couple of minutes left before they were allowed in to devour their breakfasts.
  
  But there was a large roll of paper stuck on the doorway.
  
  Sign of inimical intentions, the instrument doing the 'sticking' was an old-fashioned dagger.
  
  As much as the appearances were bad, it was the content which was the most concerning.
  
  Updated Schedule of the Twelve Labours of Neo Hercules:
  
  23rd January: Rest
  
  24th January: Rest
  
  25th January: Rest
  
  26th January: Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Labour
  
  "I have good news and bad news for you, Spartacus."
  
  "The good news first," the son of Nemesis rasped.
  
  "Your willingness to volunteer for dangerous Labours has been heard and acknowledged. You will descend in the arena again."
  
  "And the bad news?"
  
  "You are most likely going to die. Again."
  
  23 January 2007, Refectory, Primus Ludus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Elvis Knight wasn't going to say there was panic, it hadn't gone that far...for now.
  
  But it wasn't the atmosphere of victory that had been everywhere last night.
  
  Everyone had read the 'updated schedule' by now. Everyone knew what it meant.
  
  Surprisingly, it wasn't one of the Huntresses which opened the strategic meeting in a controversial manner after the Telekhines assured them all the electronic and magical bugs had been found and dismantled.
  
  It was Michael Yew, whose blue fur made him incredibly recognisable...something that irritated the 'Blue Hare' to no end.
  
  "I bet you don't feel that satisfied after all, Jackson!"
  
  Yes, it was intended to be very confrontational.
  
  Alas for him, the Captain of Team Adjudicator seemed to have missed the memo.
  
  "No. Why would I?"
  
  "WHY?" Michael's hare-nose did very funny things when he was angry, and the daughters of Bellona giggled...which did nothing to improve his temper as he jumped on the table. "Why? Because you missed the opportunity to win the Adjudicator Challenge yesterday!"
  
  For the first time in a while, Perseus Jackson seemed honestly...puzzled.
  
  "And how, pray tell, was I supposed to win the Adjudicator Challenge?"
  
  "How. HOW? You should have killed Commodus!"
  
  There was some supportive whisper coming from the Huntresses...and about half of the Suicide Squad, to be honest.
  
  "And how was I supposed to achieve that, Michael?" The son of Poseidon asked, clearly interested. "Commodus didn't participate in the Labours; whether I humiliated him or not didn't change anything to this state of affairs. As long as he stays in his poorly-decorated Lodge, I can't touch him. The same, clearly, applies to every member of Team Triumvirate or Team Adjudicator."
  
  The blue rabbit...sorry, the Blue Hare stayed there gaping, unable to find a clever repartee to this sum of facts delivered in a clinical way.
  
  "You could have avoided the 'shared victory' of the Fourth Labour," Clarisse La Rue noted in a far less confrontational tone than the son of Apollo.
  
  "Yes, I could have. It would have meant a high risk of several members of our Team dying, however."
  
  "Really?" the Blue Hare seemed to find back his sarcasm.
  
  "Really," Perseus sent him an ironic glare. "I find it extremely interesting though that I didn't learn your suggestions how to deal with a Carthaginian Hydra while it was presented before the entire stadium."
  
  "I...that is...I didn't know it was going to be the monster of the Fourth Labour! I didn't have a week to create a plan which would defeat it!"
  
  "Neither did I," the leader of the Suicide Squad reminded him. "I had at best twenty-four hours to make the plan whose result led to the incomplete victory of the Fourth and the one-sided circus of the Fifth."
  
  A malevolent red eye turned all its power towards the shivering Blue Hare.
  
  "This, my hare lieutenant, is why I am the leader of this Great Quest, in case you had forgotten with your temper tantrums and your transformation."
  
  And yes, that forced Michael Yew to shut up. The Hare decided to abandon both his position on the table and his defiant behaviour in a hurry.
  
  Annabeth Chase cleared her throat, and she received immediately the permission to speak.
  
  "I agree yesterday couldn't have been more successful," the daughter of Athena began. "But we have now to deal with the consequences. Commodus has changed the schedule, and decided that the last Seven Labours are to take place on the same day! Seven, and we know what happened when they were just three as the opening of these murder-games!"
  
  "Actually," Richard Grant intervened, "I have to ask the question: how is he going to organise all of this in a single day? I am not an engineer or holder of a big diploma, but it takes time to change the arena from one mode to another. The Interludes didn't last as long as they did just because the Narcissist Predator wanted to have time to calm down his temper and do...whatever he does behind close doors."
  
  "To answer your question, Grant..."
  
  It was really not a good omen to watch one of the most powerful Demigods of this age wince.
  
  "I have a feeling the Sixth Labour will begin right after midnight, in the first minutes of the twenty-sixth of January. The final day of the Adjudicator Challenge will begin with a nocturnal session, and provided enough people survive Labour after Labour, will be a trial of endurance that will last the entire day."
  
  "But that's..." Leo Valdez was shaking his head several times in incomprehension.
  
  "That's almost clever?" Perseus suggested. "Honestly, I was really surprised he hadn't gone with it to begin with. Plenty of the monsters we already saw had far better night vision than us. And many more traps of yesterday could have been more effective if they were to be faced when the sun didn't shine over our heads."
  
  Elvis Knight shuddered. The idea of the arena of the Fifth Labour with no light and no hint of what awaited you, save that there was a massive Cretan Hippopotamus somewhere waiting to trample you...
  
  It was honestly terrifying.
  
  "I suppose we will know rather soon if you are right or not," Lou Ellen Blackstone spoke. "By the rules, he will have to give us the exact schedule twenty-four hours before, correct?"
  
  "Correct," the son of Poseidon told the girl that everyone knew was sharing his bed.
  
  "But seven Labours in a single day is awful news, no matter how you look at it," Dakota said after emptying the bottle of fruit juice in front of him. Fruit juice? Yes, Jackson had forbidden alcohol during this strategic meeting, something about everyone having his head functioning at peak performance. "And I don't think Commodus gave us three full days of rest because he thought we deserved them."
  
  Elvis was really surprised that it was the son of Hercules who spoke after the 'drunken lieutenant'.
  
  "He gave us three days of rest because he received the support he wanted, didn't he?"
  
  Perseus silently nodded.
  
  "What?" one of the Huntresses exclaimed.
  
  "Grant and I felt the presence of Nocturna last evening," the leader of the Suicide Squad told them bluntly. "We couldn't exactly tell where she was flying, since we couldn't get out of the Ludus and investigate. But assuming the worst-case scenario, Commodus decided to put aside his monumental arrogance for a few seconds, and he asked the Sire of the Drakons for help. Of course, it's also possible he asked for the help of everyone that he may have had contacts with since the Fall of Rome. I have no way to know for sure, alas."
  
  "Is it sure he did receive the support, though?" Drew Tanaka asked, with one hand assuring herself that her hairstyle remained perfect. "We Champions saw firsthand in the Underworld that it wasn't easy for the Goddesses to do quite a few things. Commodus would have to do something as difficult, in far less time, and he is no Champion! Moreover, you humiliated him yesterday, so he isn't looking like a winner, no?"
  
  "He is a petulant Narcissist Predator," Perseus Jackson conceded with a grin, before it disappeared altogether. "But if he had not had the support he wished, waiting would do him no good. If he had not obtained the support he wanted, Commodus would have had no reason to wait. He's arrogant, and he does not handle the idea of being defeated well, as you all saw yesterday. But he's not stupid. He saw what happened when he let me one day to analyse everything that wrong for our team."
  
  "You are saying that his best course of action would be to throw us the remaining Labours in close succession as fast as possible?" Jade asked for clarification, and received a positive answer. "It makes sense, I suppose."
  
  "It is only a guess," the craziest Demigod of his generation said, "but I think that if the support had been limited or nonexistent, Commodus would begin his show tonight, right after midnight, and then would let them run their course during the entirety of the twenty-fourth of January. The schedule makes it clear he didn't choose that option. In fact, he is choosing a very risky alternative, because the Twelve Labours have to be over by the end of the seven days."
  
  "Damn," and yes, Elvis realised it was him who had reacted like that.
  
  But sadly, it made sense.
  
  The 'Seven Labours in one day' happening on the same day was an enormous risk for Commodus; after all he had to have raped the forty-nine 'Thespiades' and transformed them into Nemean Lionesses before it was over. If he failed, there was going to be a 'KABOOM'.
  
  The Narcissist Predator had zero margin of security left. To justify that kind of risk, something or a lot of things had to be on the way to justify it. Otherwise, better to begin the Labours right now and pray for the best.
  
  "What are we going to do then, Boss?" It said quite something that the penguins were the ones who retained the most enthusiastic behaviour of all Team Adjudicator.
  
  "First," the red eye of the son of Poseidon seemed to burn with a new frightening intensity, "we have to assume the provocations will come from every direction at once, and will be even more cruel and inventive."
  
  His gaze naturally fell upon the Huntresses, and many tried to look away.
  
  "I honestly don't know if the 'clothing provocations' will continue, but it's best to assume they will; they don't cost the High Judge anything, and they worked on the first day. Plus they deny us the opportunity to use proper armour and other equipment."
  
  True, though it hadn't stopped Jackson from creatively interpreting the rules and use the loopholes for the Fifth Labour.
  
  "For the love of everything you hold dear, don't answer the provocations. The 'Vote of the Public' will obviously stay forbidden to all. But I think some of the big threats won't come from that."
  
  "And where will it come from? Commodus can't exactly send his Praetorians against us!"
  
  "He can't, Bianca. But there's close to two hundred thousand monsters nearby. They didn't sign any agreement, and worse of all from his perspective, they saw him being humiliated. They watched him as his plans collapsed and he was defeated."
  
  "I really don't like where it is going," Luke Castellan pointed out.
  
  "In this case, you're going to hate what follows," Perseus Jackson replied just as quickly. "Because now, we have to speak of the Labours themselves."
  
  There were plenty of groans.
  
  But as it happened, as the first exchanges were spoken, Elvis and everyone who had done so realised they should have groaned louder.
  
  23 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Lucius Vorenus had not thought he would return inside the Coliseum so soon after the Fifth Labour.
  
  But they had returned.
  
  It seemed that for some reason, Commodus had decided the 'meeting' of today was not going to happen in his comfortable apartments hidden somewhere hundreds of metres below this very monument to slaughter and monstrous performances.
  
  Lucius didn't know what it said about the megalomania of the ex-Emperor.
  
  The Triumvirate Praetor acknowledged, however, that it was an impressive spectacle.
  
  The arena, which had been flooded yesterday, had been emptied of all the water it contained. The lake was no more.
  
  It had now been replaced by a miniature city of scaffoldings and temporary structures, and an immense army of engineering automatons and mortal builders was in its natural element. There was tarpaulin and a lot of plastic sheeting, there were millions of bricks, and there was enough building materials to build the equivalent of a small town. There was plenty of...everything.
  
  "The construction effort is remarkable," Perseus Jackson's words echoed Lucius' thoughts. "Do you think everything will be completed for the great day?"
  
  You couldn't miss the light of hatred which suddenly began to burn in Commodus' eyes.
  
  But it disappeared fast, and the golden-clothed Emperor - yes, he had returned to his usual Nemean Lion fashion trend - chuckled soon after.
  
  "We will be ready. You can't see here, of course, but we have an artefact that will provide some notable increases in performance when it will be installed. And there will be other 'boosters' for my construction teams. Everything will be delivered on schedule, and when it will be, my Coliseum will be the greatest, largest, and most splendid stadium of this world!"
  
  There were plenty of glances exchanged between Medea, his Caesar, Perseus Jackson, and Lou Ellen Blackstone.
  
  But for once, nobody really opened his mouth to tell Commodus that he was wrong.
  
  The man was cruel, arrogant, and had so many bad points listing them all would certainly see the Adjudicator Challenge end before it was over.
  
  But when it came to building a Coliseum?
  
  Commodus clearly knew his stuff.
  
  He built huge; Lucius didn't know if it was because a megalomaniac, or because the son of Marcus Aurelius had spent most of his life around the splendour of Rome, a magnificence he was trying to equal and surpass every time he could.
  
  But the Coliseum was built to last: none of the Twelve Labours had inflicted anything beyond cosmetic damage.
  
  It was honestly impressive, because it was worth remembering not thirty hours ago, a duo of penguins had fired more rounds and grenades than some professional soldiers fired in their lives.
  
  "But it is not the reason why you invited us here." His superior and commander addressed their 'host'.
  
  "Why not join the useful and the enjoyable?" Commodus smiled, and just like that, the return to the sordid business of cruelty for cruelty's sake was back on schedule. "It is here that you are going to die, after all."
  
  "Well, someone's ambitions are going to die in this arena for sure," the son of Poseidon retorted, and his grin was in several ways as scary as the expression of Commodus. "But as the respected Captain of Team Triumvirate mentioned a few seconds ago, I doubt you've came here to show us your latest crossbreeding experiments or to give us the minute-by-minute details of each Labour."
  
  "No, I didn't. I, the glorious Neo Hercules, inform you that the Sixth Labour will begin at Midnight plus one minute, on the twenty-sixth of January. The year of this stupid calendar is two thousand and seven, I believe. There will be half an hour of interlude between each Labour. Five minutes of additional interlude may be requested, if the situation in the arena requires it."
  
  That was short.
  
  Several time-outs between Labours had lasted far longer, and they had not tried to build such extravagant structures the days before.
  
  The only explanation which made sense was that the titanic arena-building that had started under their very eyes was for all the Labours, not just one.
  
  "And?" Marcus Antonius, Augustus of the Triumvirate, asked the Narcissist maniac.
  
  "And that's all you will receive from me before your guides will request the Teams to prepare for the 'big day'. Or is it big night? Some of you won't see dawn rising, I'm afraid."
  
  Nobody answered the provocation, for that was exactly what it was.
  
  "But before allowing you to return to your respective Ludi, I think we need to speak of your equipment for the extraordinary Labours where you will face a multitude of dangers."
  
  "Is it too much to hope," Medea spoke slowly, but every could hear her distaste of the High Judge, "that we won't have to don parodies of latex costumes, or outrageously obscene swimsuits?"
  
  Commodus...Commodus chuckled.
  
  "Your hopes will not be in vain. This time, the gladiators of Team Adjudicator and Triumvirate will enter the Labours in proper armour." Lucius knew immediately this was a trap. It had to be a trap. The 'costumes' and everything they had been given, so far, was noted to be wildly impractical for the Labours, and that was when it wasn't a weapon for Commodus to wield against them.
  
  That's why the Praetor wasn't surprised in the least when the next words were spoken.
  
  "But there is a twist."
  
  24 January 2007, Primus Ludus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  Jade had feared the worst, and for once, the surprises weren't unwelcome.
  
  They didn't discover the equipment at the last second, and it was something that wasn't going to generate jokes for the next centuries.
  
  It was a bit indecent, of course, but given that they were speaking about something provided by Commodus, it was kind of inevitable, really.
  
  "The Cyber-Hoplite Armour in all its glory," Jackson announced once the Telekhines had left the armoury. They could have stayed; but with so many Huntresses present, the Champion of Khione understood why the risk had not been taken.
  
  "It looks like proper hoplite armour, but...futuristic."
  
  "It is that. You have most of your body covered in some heavy metal, but you won't feel it. There's an exoskeleton integrated with it, and plenty of other devices ensuring that you can fight like you were clad in lightweight armour."
  
  And at the same, you had a traditional crest above the helmet to ensure the hoplite armour looked very 'traditional'.
  
  "I wish they could have forgotten the indecent ideas, though." The former Huntress admitted.
  
  "Given that the Amazons are the ones selling this stuff, Commodus must have deliberately requested for the hips to be uncovered and the absurd amount of cleavage to be present with the 'boob armour'."
  
  "This is scandalous!" one of the 'reinforcement' Huntresses barked.
  
  Jackson shrugged.
  
  "This is Commodus." The son of Poseidon said stoically. "I'm a bit more worried about the heels to be honest. Lou Ellen and Bianca assured me these cybernetic armoured boots are comfortable and stable, but it is one thing to test them here, and completely another in the middle of the arena."
  
  "Why don't you speak about the real problem, male?"
  
  Jade wanted to facepalm. Would this stupidity never end?
  
  "Yes, yes." By his expression and the absence of jokes, even their infamously crazy leader was getting dangerously annoyed with the 'evil lesbian cult'. "Where the normal models proposed for Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate have everything merged below the belt, the armour prepared for the 'New Thespiades' has a chastity belt."
  
  You really didn't need to be particularly knowledgeable to know an explosion was imminent.
  
  "I really don't see where the problem is."
  
  What followed was not so much a series of accusations or shouts; it was just insults and incoherent shrieking.
  
  It lasted over fifteen seconds, the time for some of ex-companions to spill everything awful they had on their hearts.
  
  "Language," Jackson spoke with humour once it was over, and...he went on to ignore them. "Questions, Jade?"
  
  "Why didn't the Amazons use this armour when they ambushed us at C.C's Spa?"
  
  "Now that is a good question," the black-haired Demigod smiled. "It is because this armour has serious problems that spell doom on a proper battlefield."
  
  And suddenly, the reason why Jackson did not consider the chastity belt a big deal became clear.
  
  "Continue."
  
  "In order to move this mass of metal, some of it particularly heavy I remind you, you need power. The power core of this armour is able to provide it, but not for long. The Telekhines were checking it before you arrived, and they told me for sure this Cyber-Hoplite Armour can't have more than two hours of autonomy."
  
  The red eye began to smile in a Machiavellian manner.
  
  "I trust you realise the implications."
  
  "If the participant is still in the arena when the armour powers down, he or she is a corpse-in-waiting."
  
  "Precisely. That is-"
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  "My ears," the son of Poseidon complained before resuming speaking as if there had been no interruption. "Yes, whatever our ignoble host will say about the length of a Labour, the maximum of time one gladiator will be able to stay in the arena will be two hours. And that's the upper threshold. In all likelihood, high-intensity fighting will severely decrease this amount of time."
  
  "Two hours per seven Labours makes it fourteen hours. Add six interludes of half an hour...three hours in total. That's seventeen hours."
  
  Commodus had technically enough time to organise all the Labours and triumph upon their cold dead corpses.
  
  "Any other bad news?"
  
  "Once the armour is at zero percent of power, it takes over one hour to bring it back to one hundred percent."
  
  Jade grimaced.
  
  "In other words, whoever participates in a Labour, unless it ends extremely quickly, won't be available for the one after."
  
  "Unless we forget the armour entirely!" Ellen said with enthusiasm. "Seriously, Jackson, are we the only ones to forget that it is the 'Narcissist Predator'? There is no generosity where this rapist is concerned! It is a trap!"
  
  Jackson looked at her like she was really clever monkey who had managed to prove it was not, unlike the rest of its group, a stupid specimen.
  
  "Yes, there is a trap, and we will speak about it in a moment. For the time being, I will assure you it is not generosity which ensures Commodus is giving away the Cyber-Hoplite Armours. It is the rules."
  
  "The rules?" Jade didn't like that at all.
  
  "According to Article Two of the Adjudicator Challenge, the 'Labours' or whatever obstacle course and trial proposed by the High Judge must be theoretically feasible with the equipment put at the disposal of the participants."
  
  "This is nonsense!" one of the 'reinforcement' Huntress erupted like an explosive volcano. "The previous Labours were impossible to accomplish!"
  
  "Then why did we succeed into completing four out of five?" Perseus Jackson gave her a thin smile of commiseration.
  
  The Huntresses were forced to clench their jaws despite their eyes blazing in righteous fury.
  
  "Were the Labours horribly difficult and totally murderous? Yes. Were they horribly unfair? Yes. Did the level of difficulty was more appropriate for high-level Demigod adults and lesser immortals than the team we were given? The answer is also yes. But provided the good choices were made, and everyone kept a clear head, the Labours could be won. Believe me, if a Labour was impossible to accomplish, I had the assurance the Referees would stop it."
  
  "Why didn't they stop the Third Labour, then?"
  
  But the panic and the worry in the eyes of those girls who had been serving once under Panther Kowalski proved they had already guessed the truth.
  
  And Jackson obviously didn't wait before delivering the truth.
  
  "The Third Labour wasn't impossible to accomplish, Huntresses. In fact, it was one of the simplest ones, as long as you had a sorceress in your team."
  
  But their mutiny had prevented it from being the case, the message said. And the servants of the Hunt didn't like hearing it, clearly.
  
  "So the armour is necessary to complete each of the final Labours in time to do any good."
  
  "They have magically extended the arena field in the last hours; the battlefield Commodus prepared for us is terrifyingly big now;" Perseus delivered fact after fact like it was no big deal. "Donning a Cyber-Hoplite Armour will increase your physical performance by fifty percent; I think it is technically sufficient to accomplish whatever goal is demanded of us."
  
  "There must be other...there has to be something else!"
  
  "Commodus was eager to inform me that if you don't want the Cyber-Hoplite Armour, the latex bodysuit that also happens to be transparent is available." Perseus shrugged, his red eye staring at everyone maniacally.
  
  "PERVERT!"
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad ignored them, like he had plenty of times before today.
  
  "Personally, I will take the armour. It isn't perfect, it is your death if you don't complete the Labour before it reaches zero percent of energy, but it at least protects somewhat and gives you a chance."
  
  "You bathed in Drakon's Blood!"
  
  "And that doesn't happen to make me the equal of a true immortal. I am sadly certain Commodus and his backers will test the limits of my skin's resistance. Where were we, Jade?"
  
  "You mentioned a trap that wasn't the chastity belt." The Champion of Khione teased him.
  
  "Ah, yes, the trap!"
  
  The young Demigod grabbed one of the helmets lined up on a table.
  
  "ADVANCED MODE!"
  
  Faster than you could say it, liquid metal descended where the face of someone should have been had they donned the helmet, before forming a sort of metallic mask. Obviously here, it was inhuman, for no one had donned the helmet. But Jade understood the principle. There were spaces for the bionic eyes that would let you see and-
  
  "Jackson," she said cautiously, not liking where this was going to lead, "what exactly are those armours?"
  
  "I am extremely glad you asked, oh Drakonic Champion. The Cyber-Hoplite Armour is used by the Amazons to simulate extremely dangerous battles in a safe environment. Once they have the helmets upon their heads, the young Amazons can be trained as their superiors deliver into the field a series of extremely realistic scenarios. End of Advanced mode."
  
  The hoplite helmet returned to its original appearance. But Jade wasn't going to forget any time soon the danger it represented.
  
  "Jackson...Perseus. You want us to don that thing?"
  
  Commodus could literally send them to their death if he was able to let them see things that had nothing in common with the arena waiting for them!
  
  "Once the armours will be properly locked in for one user, you are the only one coded in to use the 'advanced helmet mode'. The Telekhines have also promised they are going to try developing measures to ensure no one hacks the devices in your helmets."
  
  This was...better. Not good, but it was better than the worst-case scenario.
  
  "That said, the advanced mode of the helmet is exactly the trap you think it is. In the arena, it is likely there are artefacts which will allow Commodus and other enemies to overwhelm whatever defences are in place to take control of what the helmet shows you. As long as the helmet stays 'normal', obviously, our foes can't do it."
  
  "I'm going to say that obviously, this means never using the 'advanced mode', but I have a feeling this won't be that simple."
  
  "Accurate," Perseus' expression showed great amusement. "The advanced mode is the only way to get infrared and X-Ray vision, among other things."
  
  A Huntress scoffed.
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "Let me remind you that whatever Labours await us on the final day, a significant part of it will undoubtedly take place during the night. The Sixth Labour starts at midnight plus one minute. Do you wonder now why I am not worried about chastity belt and other stuff?"
  
  "This is-"
  
  "Commodus needs the Thespiades to be virgins before you lied defeated in front of him," the son of Poseidon forcefully threw the ugly truth right in the face of the angry servants of Artemis. "Anyway. We have been given a wide array of weapons to wield for the final Labours. There are cyber-spears, cyber-swords, cyber-axes, cyber-bows...there are even cyber-tridents, what a coincidence!"
  
  It went without saying that their leader's enthusiasm, faced with this 'audience', was not contagious at all.
  
  "Jackson." Iphigenia said in this frightening voice that you always wondered how much of the Dreaming One had sunk into her. "I am sure your warnings were taken very seriously, especially after what happened during the Third Labour. But there is a simple solution you already used. I'm sure Jenna and the others won't like it, accusations of cowardice aside, but it exists. Commodus can't touch them if they don't step on the murderous battlefield he calls an arena. That's the rules, or has something changed in that regard?"
  
  "The rules haven't changed," the Drakon-Slayer replied truthfully. "But Commodus isn't going to make the same mistakes born of arrogance a few more times. No, he can't choose for us who will get send to complete each Labour. But he has a good idea of what every member of Team Triumvirate and Team Adjudicator can and can't do. He knows the majority of the 'gladiators" skills. He didn't select his 'reinforcements' randomly. The reason he didn't use all of these advantages before was that he was convinced he wouldn't need them to win. Assuming for an instant he didn't think of it before on his own, I'm pretty sure the Sire of the Drakons or someone else is going to tell him to stop being chivalric and use them devastatingly."
  
  "He can modify the Labours to make sure certain skills are necessary to succeed." Jade whispered before realising the problem. "Archery. We have a few good archers among the Suicide Squad, but all the exceptional ones are or were Huntresses."
  
  "That's the problem I thought of when I envisaged all the scenarios, yes." The Demigod who had faced a Titaness and not been crushed for his audacity bared his teeth. "And yes, it will lead to unpleasant choices, I'm afraid."
  
  "You can't-"
  
  "I can and I will, if the circumstances demand it." The authority that radiated from Jackson had nothing funny about it anymore. "I will of course keep a significant number of Huntresses away from the arena to make sure Commodus doesn't achieve his victory, but let it be no mistakes, I have a plan in mind. And if for this plan to be successful I have to break several eggs, I will not hesitate."
  
  "Evil words from an evil male," a Huntress retorted predictably. "You are not the one who will be raped and enslaved if it goes wrong."
  
  "On this point, you are perfectly right." Jackson admitted honestly. "But I have something that will protect any potential 'Thespiades' from being claimed by the Narcissist Predator. Maybe. That's all experimental."
  
  "You're hardly reassuring."
  
  The red eye rolled ironically.
  
  "My lovely sorceress who also happens to be my girlfriend forced me to consider what would happen if I revealed afterwards I had something to save you and I never mentioned it before this epic day of slaughter. So I have, and it's done. Evidently, it will be absolutely useless for Jade and Iphigenia, who are already enjoying more protection-"
  
  "Will it interfere with the vows we swore to Artemis, male?"
  
  "If it is activated, it will, yes." Jade had to give him credit; Jackson was no coward facing by himself a group of angry Huntresses.
  
  Of course, they didn't have their bows to skewer him with arrows, but still.
  
  "We will never forsake the Goddess!"
  
  And the seven 'reinforcement' Huntresses stormed out, before anyone could speak one more word.
  
  This left Iphigenia, Ellen, Jenna, Kimiko, and Jade herself...and Ellen and Jenna looked like they were ready to follow the others at any moment.
  
  "I don't think it is exactly a success," the Champion of Khione drawled with a smile.
  
  Perseus Jackson gave her a 'nah, you think?' glance.
  
  "You're asking for too much, Jackson." Ellen declared. "And you better not take their refusal as a reason to send them in the arena at the first opportunity."
  
  "Have I treated them as arena cannon-fodder so far in this Adjudicator Challenge?"
  
  No, no he hadn't. That said, the leader of the Suicide Squad had hardly needed to so far, given that the majority of the 'reinforcements' under Panther had jumped to their doom with the Third Labour.
  
  "You didn't. But...it's too much. I'm sorry, but it's too much."
  
  And Ellen and Jenna left, with Iphigenia following right behind them.
  
  That left only Jade present...and Kimiko.
  
  "How low?" the cursed Huntress stuck her long blue tongue out, her eyes watching the mad Demigod like her life depended upon it.
  
  "Your chances of survival or to resist enslavement?"
  
  "The latter."
  
  "Ten percent for you," Jackson replied immediately. "You're especially vulnerable to curses due to what happened in the Forge of All Perils. And the Sire of Drakons is going to be involved somehow in the last Labours. Commodus is sure to use this weakness against you."
  
  The blue tail moved slightly.
  
  "And the others?"
  
  "Iphigenia has it as bad as you, if the enemy is sufficiently crazy as to acquire somehow a Primordial's artefact. The Huntresses who joined us recently should have odds of survival of about thirty percent, maybe thirty-five. Jenna and Ellen have it the best; I would say it's fifty-fifty in their case. They have resisted to Charm-song once, and they have gotten stronger from all the battles. They might save their souls and their lives."
  
  "Artemis really sent us to this Great Quest like we were pigs to the slaughter, didn't she?" the Asian Huntress said bitterly.
  
  "In all fairness," Perseus answered, "I think she would have evacuated you once the rest of the Suicide Squad had to be executed for treachery or succumbed to the tides of monsters."
  
  "But it didn't happen, and here we are." The Huntress frowned and her blue tongue stuck out again in an unnatural manner.
  
  "Yes, here we are."
  
  "I don't want to end up as a slave of Commodus, Jackson. I don't want to be one of his feline pets he rapes every hour. I don't want to be forced to crawl in front of someone I hate with every part of my being. Yes, I screwed up in the Forge of All Perils. But I don't want to be reduced to...I don't want to be transformed and enslaved like Panther Kowalski and the others."
  
  "I understand." There was no gloating, no amusement, and no hint of triumph in Perseus Jackson's voice. "Jade? I'm afraid this is going to be a private conversation."
  
  "Of course." The Champion of the Second Queen of Hell inclined her head in salute. "I will inform the sorceresses you're going to be a bit late for the next strategic meeting."
  
  25 January 2007, the apartments of Neo Diana, deep under the Commodus Coliseum
  
  She wanted to say the burning was getting intolerable, but that assumed it had been something that she could bear without significant pain when it began.
  
  It simply burned her.
  
  It was almost a relief there were no girls of the Moon transformed during the Fourth and Fifth Labours.
  
  The flames would have gotten stronger, amplified her torment.
  
  As it was, these days, she was getting less and less sleep.
  
  The fire burning within her was cold, patient, and merciless.
  
  There was no escape from it.
  
  It was almost a relief to not suffer more; except for the fact that it was a break of faith.
  
  She had promised her father.
  
  What would happen to him if she failed?
  
  If the ritual failed, if most of the girls were not transformed before the seven days ended, it would be all for nothing.
  
  The pain. The promises.
  
  It hurt.
  
  It hurt, and though she didn't remember her name, it wasn't necessary to know victory wasn't assured.
  
  Victory was not and would never be certain.
  
  After long breaths, it took a powerful effort to concentrate on something else.
  
  Something like the armour.
  
  It was something regal.
  
  It was made of silvery alloys, and shaped to look like the armours worn by the hoplites of the Antiquity.
  
  It was different from all of those which had been given to the Teams, however.
  
  It was not the armour of a warrior.
  
  It was the armour of a Huntress.
  
  And the implications were clear.
  
  She was going to have to prove her worth.
  
  If there was any doubt about it, the twin short swords and the bow next to the armour would break it in a second.
  
  She looked at the armour and the weapons for a long, long time.
  
  They were-
  
  "Fascinating."
  
  She jumped on her feet.
  
  The man in tuxedo was there.
  
  "Neo Hercules-"
  
  "He knows I am here." The man grinned, and for a moment, despite his horrible scars, he looked beautiful. "I am almost the father he never had."
  
  Neo Hercules never spoke of his father, genitor or spiritual sire. That much she was sure of.
  
  "Who are you?"
  
  The bow tie was adjusted, though it didn't need to be.
  
  "My friends call me Prometheus."
  
  "Like the Titan who stole fire from the Gods?"
  
  There was a smile, and flames danced in the eyes of the man in tuxedo.
  
  "Yes."
  
  The man in tuxedo was not a man. He was-
  
  She opened her mouth to sing and alert the sentinels.
  
  "There is no need for that, little dove. I did not come here to injure you or to hinder your future performance in any way."
  
  She closed her mouth, feeling suddenly weak and tired.
  
  "Why did you come, then?"
  
  "Would you believe me if I told you I was curious?" There was a smile, but it didn't felt convincing. "You are something entirely new."
  
  "I don't believe you."
  
  "What a shame."
  
  "If you are really the Prometheus of the myths," and the scars on his face suddenly made a lot of sense, "how are you-"
  
  "Hercules freed me." There was a new smile, and the being who is not a man removed his glasses to clean them. "He wanted to stick one to his genitor, I believe. Unsurprising, given the number of times Hera stabbed him the back while the Lord of Olympus did nothing."
  
  "The eagle," this time the lessons that she may have learned long ago flowed in her mind again. "There was an eagle-"
  
  "There never was an eagle, believe me. Do you believe a mere bird can inflict lasting injuries to a Titan? It was him. It was him, using his Domain of the Eagles. It was a small part of him to be sure, but it was sufficient for day after day, to make the scars permanent."
  
  "Because you stole the Fire, and gave it to Mankind."
  
  There was a loud chuckle.
  
  "Oh, believe me, this is only part of the reason, little dove."
  
  "Part of the reason?"
  
  "The King of the Gods absolutely hated my exploit, I assure you. For some reason, he wasn't happy that from that moment, men and women were going to burn brightly. They were going to experience the fires of ambition, the sheer need to become better in every way; they would refuse the pathetic stagnancy so many Gods wanted to embrace. Humanity was going to wield the fire, and create wonders with it. Alone, this would have been worth exile, and a harsh punishment."
  
  The eyes burned, and she was absolutely not reassured.
  
  "But alone, deprived of many of the Domains I held before, I would never have become the Fire Thief. I needed an accomplice. And after so long, I wanted a partner. I wanted someone who would understand my cleverness and my ambitions. I wanted someone by my side. And I found her."
  
  "Her?"
  
  "This beautiful Goddess and her grey eyes. Her sublime grey eyes. So pure. So dedicated to doing what she felt was her duty. I seduced her. Unless it was I who was seduced, of course. We exchanged vows. I took her virginity. She literally let me change some parts of her, and the reverse was true too."
  
  "You are speaking of-"
  
  "This had strange effects, I will admit. From that moment onwards, all her true daughters have the incredible tendency of falling in love with people who show my greatest qualities. And should some not return their love, they will seek anew someone loving them for what they are."
  
  She stayed silent.
  
  Prometheus scared her.
  
  "But the Theft was discovered. The betrothal was discovered. The King of the Gods was hypocritical and cruel. I was captured and broken; entire parts of myself burned under the strikes of the Master Bolt. The Goddess I loved was punished too, and lost her Throne for many aeons; she would never be the same again."
  
  "And you were punished to be torn apart by an eagle for an eternity of torment."
  
  The Titan smiled sadly.
  
  "Why tell me all of this?" she asked.
  
  "Why not tell you all of this? Like me, you have to begun to burn. Not for your sake, but for others."
  
  "You will..."no, she had to ignore what was not making sense, in addition to the pain. "Hercules helped you, but you're helping now Neo Hercules. You love a Goddess, but you're against Olympus."
  
  The question burned her lips, and for all her strength, she was not able to strangle her curiosity.
  
  "What is your goal?"
  
  "Why, little dove," the Titan touched her hair, and somehow, she didn't react, though she hadn't seen him move! "I want to save this reality we're all living into."
  
  She didn't believe him-
  
  "Of course, to save it, Olympus must fall and burn."
  
  Prometheus chuckled.
  
  "I am eager to see how you will burn tomorrow, little dove. Even I, the Titan of Foresight, can't see how this is going to end. So many possibilities. So many fiery choices. So many joys and tragedies."
  
  "You are...what are you?"
  
  "I am the former holder of the Throne of Messengers and Thieves. I am the one who steals and bring fires to those who desire it. I give Crafty Counsel, and I am the Lord of Bargains. And now I am the Chairman of the Coalition."
  
  She shivered.
  
  "I am Prometheus, little dove. Remember to kiss, before you burn."
  
  Strangely, this completely breaks the shocking aura spreading in her personal quarters.
  
  "Oh, come on! Not another pervert!"
  
  25 January 2007, Primus Ludus Commodus, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  "My friends! Listen to me, for I am burdened by glorious betrayals!"
  
  "Here we go again..." Dakota groaned.
  
  "Despite multiple felonies and various accusations against my sanity, we are once again on the eve of a battle which will change everything! As such I encourage you, to-"
  
  "Perseus," the purr of the blonde daughter of Hecate was a great relief to...everyone, in fact.
  
  Well, not Perseus Jackson, but who cared?
  
  Dakota McDonald sighed in relief.
  
  "Come on, Lou-"
  
  "Do you want to sleep in your bed this afternoon?"
  
  The threat was issued as flames danced around the fingertips of the sorceress. You couldn't be exactly less subtle.
  
  "Fine," the Demigod grimaced. "I will skip the monologue."
  
  There was some mutter about it being a colossal waste and everything, but nobody believed him.
  
  "All right. This is the last strategic meeting of Team Adjudicator. We have exactly seven hours and forty-three minutes before the Sixth Labour begins. Our team is down to seventy-nine people. We have won three and a half challenges out of five possible. All the officers are present, though one," the red eye fell on a fidgeting Blue Hare, "has had his fighting capability severely shot down. The enemy wants us to don Cyber-Hoplite Armours for the remaining seven challenges. Each of them will include some monster crossbred with the essence of one of the beasts originally vanquished by Grant's father. At the moment we're speaking, we have the assurance that the Labours of the Stymphalian Birds, the Mares of Diomedes, the Ceryneian Hind, the Lernaean Hydra, and the Cretan Bull are out of our enemy's hands."
  
  There was a short pause to catch up his breath, and empty a glass of water.
  
  "Unfortunately, that leaves the Erymanthian Boar, the Augean Stables, the Belt of the Queen of the Amazons, the Cattle of Geryon, the Golden Apples of the Hesperides, the Nemean Lion, and the one associated with my furry and beloved friend Cerberus. Questions?"
  
  "Yes," Leo Valdez raised his hand like he was at school. "The monsters are all very fine and all, I'm sure. But what exactly are the builders of the 'Narcissist' building inside the Coliseum?"
  
  "Annabeth?"
  
  There was a strange device activated, which materialised a giant screen where they should be none.
  
  What it did show them, on the other hand, was perfectly clear.
  
  This was a bird's eye view of the arena. Or more accurately, the view recorded from a drone.
  
  There were a lot of numbers and ciphered information, but Dakota could read a date and a time: it had been taken less than four hours ago.
  
  All of it paled to the revelation of Jackson blatantly cheating.
  
  For while the drone was evidently flying at a high altitude, the video was sufficiently clear to see a multitude of critical information.
  
  Including what the next Labour was about.
  
  "A maze," it was Ethan Nakamura who said it first. "They transformed the arena into a maze."
  
  "There's a smaller arena at the heart of it, you will notice," Perseus told them unhelpfully. "In fact, it might not be that small. The inside of the Coliseum has been magically expanded via powerful artefacts and a lot of architecture that is generally not available to mortals. The maze is properly without equal in size."
  
  Asterius the Minotaur sniffed loudly.
  
  "Labyrinth excepted, of course, Asterius. I didn't forget about it...but the Labyrinth wasn't built to stay in a single location."
  
  "Apologies accepted, short one."
  
  There were some giggles and chuckles.
  
  They didn't last long.
  
  Not when everyone realised they were going to have to enter this damned thing, and get out in less than two hours.
  
  "Let's see the good side of things, Boss!" Rico began very optimistically. "Once we will have crossed it once, it will be easier to navigate, right?"
  
  "The reason Commodus is not bothering with more than thirty minutes of Interlude," the son of Poseidon replied sardonically while looking at his watch, "is that I'm pretty sure the Maze will modify itself between Labours. And I seriously hope it won't modify itself during the challenges in question."
  
  Several rude words were spoken. Many Demigods and Demigoddesses cursed.
  
  Luke Castellan coughed.
  
  "Should we focus on the Labours, in that case? The Maze may be a far more difficult challenge than every monster waiting for us here."
  
  "My heroic lieutenant, you have a good head on your shoulders. You have survived many Quests. As a result, you know no plan survives contact with the enemy."
  
  "Err...yes?"
  
  Clearly, the son of Hermes didn't see what kind of point their leader wanted to make.
  
  And then Perseus grinned.
  
  It was a total, determined grin, with the craziness level skyrocketing.
  
  "Forget the Maze. Forget most of the Labours. Survival is what is at stake. We have to survive until the Labour of the Nemean Lion."
  
  "We all know this is the symbol animal he wants for his Godly Apotheosis, but-"
  
  "You know nothing, Elvis. The Labour of the Nemean Lion is not ordinary. It is the Labour of a Hunter and a future God. It is the Labour of the Lion and the Demigod. It is the only Labour where Commodus is likely to descend in the arena."
  
  Instantly, Perseus had everyone's intention.
  
  Why wouldn't he?
  
  Dakota was sure everyone in Team Adjudicator had dreamed of killing the Narcissist Predator at least a dozen times.
  
  "Yes, I suppose it makes sense," Grant was the first to react. "Commodus was infamous for participating with the gladiators while he was Emperor, wasn't he? If he wants to be greater than he was as Caesar, he will have to do the same here."
  
  "And the more we humiliate his monsters and the foes in his Labours," Bianca di Angelo smirked, "the greater the pressure he will be under to deal with us in person."
  
  "Even if all of this is true," Hera warned, her hair unable to change at the moment from their appearance of white feathers, "this is hardly going to be easy. Commodus won't be alone. The eighteen Nemean Lionesses will be with him. There will be his 'Neo Diana' with him too."
  
  Fortunately, none of the active Huntresses were present, otherwise there would have been loud screams of outrage.
  
  "And one can't forget Commodus himself." Clarisse said darkly. "He's a rapist and a megalomaniac, but he's strong. Many of us won't survive long if they have to go against him one-on-one."
  
  "I will face Commodus myself."
  
  Perseus Jackson's voice was an implacable sword, and his red eye seemed to be ready to swallow the very hells themselves.
  
  "Err, Perseus, I know you have some plans, but-"
  
  "Oh, I have better than a plan, my treacherous lieutenant. I have a story, a sword, and a power that has never been defeated. But more than that? I have a ritual that neither Commodus nor the Sire of the Drakons will ever see coming."
  
  Dakota didn't dare drinking for many seconds. Right now, if he had to be honest, Jackson was way more frightening than all the enemies they had faced during this Quest.
  
  "Commodus will have all eternity to regret accepting being the High Judge of my Adjudicator Games," the insane Demigod swore. "Of course, that regret will be in the Pits of Tartarus, because that's the place I'm going to send him after burning his divine ambitions to ash!"
  
  You couldn't call what followed a smile.
  
  It was way too powerful and devastating to be called that.
  
  "Suicide Squad! Are you with me? The Endgame is here!"
  
  Author's note:
  
  The Adjudicator Challenge, also best known as the Twelve Labours of Commodus, will find their triumphant conclusion in the next chapter, which is named Endgame.
  
  The storm is here. The enemies have assembled. The public is waiting for the bloodbath.
  
  It is time to stoke the fires of the inferno.
  
  And this time, even Gods may not survive to live another day.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Endgame
  Chapter 31
  
  Endgame
  
  "It is time. We complete the Labours; first chance we have, we kill the bastard." Final monologue of Perseus Jackson, 25 January 2007.
  
  "What's the price of a Labour?" words attributed to a very drunk God Apollo on the day of the 27th January 2007.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  The tunnel which lead them to the Coliseum had been a thing of darkness, barely illuminated by a torch every forty metres.
  
  What waited for them, admittedly, was significantly worse.
  
  It had been a long time since Perseus had experienced such a suffocating atmosphere.
  
  It was not natural.
  
  The Suicide Squad had been on this island long enough for the humidity and air pressure conditions to be somewhat familiar, and the sensation they felt now was absolutely not one which had been there in the last days.
  
  It felt like everyone was sweating by merely walking slowly, and all had yet to don their 'Cyber-Hoplite' Armours.
  
  There was the bloodthirst too.
  
  You could tell with a glance that the Centaurs and every monster attending had been riled up in the last hours. The savagery was too intense to not have been fabricated by the 'High Judge'.
  
  There would be no mercy for this last day of the 'Games'.
  
  A good thing he had expected none, then.
  
  "I see the 'ignoble host' doesn't intend to repeat his previous mistakes," Ethan said in a low tone. "We're as far from the Imperial Lodge as it is possible to be."
  
  The son of Nemesis had a point. While the 'waiting platforms' of Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate were huge and side-by-side, they were separated from Commodus' throne by the entire arena.
  
  "Someone must have told him to stop this stupidity," Perseus shrugged the matter off.
  
  "It is not a good thing."
  
  "No. Of course, I'm more concerned with the Maze waiting for us."
  
  The presentation was rather powerful and made to play for all the theatrics of Roman gladiator games, which didn't mean it was inefficient.
  
  While thousands of torches and luminous screens had been prepared for the spectators and the monsters-filled stands, the Coliseum Maze was a cavernous beast of complete obscurity.
  
  You could easily imagine it as a dark maw waiting to swallow you body and soul.
  
  "We aren't going to see anything if we don't bring torches or light sources with us."
  
  "It seems that tonight, you're really in the mood to point out the obvious, my treacherous lieutenant."
  
  "Jackson."
  
  Perseus clicked his tongue.
  
  "It seems they have separated the arena into two different parts. One is the arena proper, and the other is the Maze, which covers out the entirety of the 'outer zone'. Obviously, to reach the former, we have to fight our way across the latter."
  
  "Any idea what is waiting for us inside this labyrinth?"
  
  "Save that it is guaranteed to be thoroughly unpleasant? No."
  
  Midnight tolled, and battle-music began to play out, under the clamours of hundreds of thousands of being eager to watch the blood flows in massive quantities.
  
  "I am sure, however, that getting inside this mini-arena at the heart of the Coliseum is not going to be easy. I see only four large Gates, and all of them are closed."
  
  "And the cascade that has been flooding the moat before each Gate?"
  
  "I think it's some sort of super-acid." His eyes tried to study the surroundings of these obstacles, though it was difficult, courtesy of the darkness and the distance separating him from them. "At a guess, the statues nearby are not there to be pretty. I think the reason the cyber-bows have been provided has suddenly been revealed."
  
  "The mini-arena itself?"
  
  "Well, it is clearly modelled after the Labour of the Garden of the Hesperides." This one wasn't exactly difficult to find out. "We have a small lake, with a smaller island at the centre of it. I mean, it could be something else, but a tree of gold with golden apples does tend to significantly reduce the list of possibilities."
  
  "Said Labour demands the escape from the vigilance of Ladon."
  
  "I can confirm," Luke spoke nearby.
  
  The next steps to reach their seats - with the stands where their Cyber-Hoplite Armours awaited behind them - felt heavy and difficult. The roars of the crowd increased. The bloodthirst levels soared. Everything seemed to force your heart to pump more adrenaline into your veins.
  
  Perseus would have wished to speak with Mark Antony and the rest of Team Triumvirate, but here, it was clearly impossible. While they were incredibly close and could hardly fail to see each other, the barrier between the two platforms was enchanted to prevent talk between the two different teams.
  
  Commodus' backers had truly gone all-out tonight; it was not the 'glorious Neo Hercules' who would have thought about a detail like this one.
  
  "He's trying to force us to send archers in the arena, isn't he?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "It is going to be bad."
  
  "I think we haven't seen the truly bad stuff yet."
  
  The words were not completely out of his mouth yet that the entire Coliseum shook. The crowd fell silent for a few seconds, before bursting into applause.
  
  The reason behind this sudden enthusiasm was not hard to find out. It seemed that a giant system of gears and cogs, plus some other infernal machinery had been placed into motion. Now the different walls of the Coliseum Maze had begun to move.
  
  The colossal obstacles were not moving quickly, to be sure. But they moved. Both gladiator teams would have to find their way through a labyrinth which was changing constantly.
  
  "There are times a string to find our way out without a problem would not be too much..."
  
  "WELCOME! WELCOME, GLADIATORS AND SPECTATORS, TO THE SIXTH LABOUR!"
  
  "Here we are...at last."
  
  "THE RULES OF THE SIXTH LABOUR ARE SIMPLE!"
  
  "Jackson? I have a very bad feeling about this..."
  
  "You too?"
  
  "VICTORY WILL BE GIVEN TO THE TEAM WHICH WILL SUCCESSFULLY GRAB THREE GOLDEN APPLES FROM THE TREE OF NEO HESPERIDES! AN IMPORTANT PRECISION: NO GLADIATOR WILL BE ABLE TO TAKE AND CARRY MORE THAN ONE APPLE ON HIM OR HER!"
  
  This was a vicious move. Without that rule, one Demigod or Demigoddess could have perfectly achieved everything alone, provided he or she had the raw power to do so.
  
  This wasn't going to work here.
  
  "SECOND IMPORTANT POINT! I AM SURE OUR FIERCE GLADIATORS HAVE SOME DIFFICULTIES OBSERVING THE TREE OF NEO HESPERIDES! THEREFORE I WILL CONFIRM THAT THERE ARE ONLY FIVE APPLES THAT CAN BE TAKEN!"
  
  Perseus snorted.
  
  "Okay, this time the High Judge appears to have abandoned the idea of a 'shared victory'." That wasn't too surprising, it had clearly been done the first time to spite him.
  
  "THE APPLES WILL BE EXAMINED ON THE PLATFORMS WHERE THE GLADIATORS ARE STANDING: THEY WILL HAVE TO BE INTACT."
  
  This one felt like a trap which was going to destroy all their efforts at the last moment possible. What was it going to be? Birds cursed to feed on gold fruits? A metal-rusting artefact hidden under their respective entrances?
  
  "THIRD RULE! THE SIXTH LABOUR WILL ONLY LAST TWO HOURS! PAST THAT TIME, THE GATES WILL CLOSE! ANYONE WHO IS LEFT INSIDE THE ARENA PAST THAT DEADLINE WILL BE CONSIDERED LOST FOREVER!"
  
  The Centaurs bayed their support at that awful 'game rule'.
  
  The red-eyed Demigod didn't move. He knew Commodus had not finished increasing the difficulty of the Sixth Labour.
  
  "AND THE BEST FOR THE LAST: BOTH TEAMS HAVE TO IMMEDIATELY SEND TWELVE MEMBERS IN THE ARENA! NO REINFORCEMENTS WILL BE ALLOWED UNTIL THEIR ORIGINAL TWELVE HAVE SUCCEEDED OR FAILED!"
  
  There were times when Perseus loved to be right.
  
  Today was not one of them.
  
  "Perseus?"
  
  "Yes, Lou Ellen?"
  
  "Is it bad or incredibly bad?"
  
  The son of Poseidon opened his mouth, before stopping. Something dangerous had just began to echo at the edge of his consciousness. It was-
  
  Though they were far away from the Lodge where Commodus had made his speech, the former Tyrant had good eyesight, and this was enough to see a thin figure revealing itself.
  
  "Titan," the leader of the Suicide Squad said coldly. "It is going to be hellishly bad."
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  In hindsight, there had been warning signs.
  
  The Lodge was a lot bigger, though part of it could be blamed on the Nemean Lionesses being commanded to stay in their full-leonine forms.
  
  The number of seats had been wrong, though, and after several Praetorians had been slaughtered a few days ago, any gambler wouldn't have bet for the bodyguards of Commodus volunteering to be close to their boss.
  
  The biggest clue had certainly been the Maze and the Coliseum, however. This kind of dark, suffocating atmosphere was not the style Commodus enjoyed. Oh, the Narcissist Emperor could adapt his vices to a quantity of new gladiatorial events, but the vibes were completely different to the first Five Labours, and not in a good way.
  
  All of this was acknowledged, and plenty of signs had not missed.
  
  Dionysus was still unpleasantly surprised when he arrived in the Throne-Lodge.
  
  "Prometheus," the God of Madness did notice that no herald had announced the Titan's presence. Apparently, even Germani had some measure of sanity.
  
  "But if it isn't the second most-tortured Demigod that the Lord of Olympus finally took pity upon! Didn't you already drown to death in your barrel, drunkard?"
  
  Dionysus had received an uncountable of insults directed at his divine essence since his apotheosis, and the originality of these ones was so low it might have been nonexistent.
  
  The words were pathetic. But the power behind them managed to rile him up.
  
  "I suddenly understand who exactly provided the lethal artefacts which were disposed underwater during the Fifth Labour."
  
  "Good! Maybe you are not as stupid as you look, drunkard of the Twelfth Throne."
  
  The former Demigod gave the Titan his entire attention.
  
  What the hell was Prometheus doing here? This didn't make any sense at all. True, the Titan must have given support to Commodus, both of the financial and divine resources kind.
  
  But there had been a large sense of deniability. Taking a seat in the Imperial Lodge was absolutely the complete opposite of that stance.
  
  "I will remind you that I am the First Referee, Titan, son of Pain. If you dare intervening by moving a single finger-"
  
  "Oh, I am not going to physically participate in these Labours as long as I have a choice. I swear it on Styx herself. May she devour my essence whole and throw the ashes of my power into the Abyss below if I break my oath."
  
  The Goddess of Hatred seethed and acknowledged the vow, and the earth rumbled under the power.
  
  This was not reassuring at all.
  
  In fact, Dionysus felt twice warier than he had been seconds ago.
  
  "You gave Commodus his marching orders."
  
  "I assure you, I did not!" The Titan's scarred face tried to present an expression of innocence. It was unconvincing in the extreme. "I merely advised him. And I may have provided some of the fireworks for maximal entertainment purposes."
  
  "You hate the Suicide Squad and the Triumvirate that much?"
  
  Prometheus laughed. It was an awful sound; it was a cacophony of disorder.
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, God of Wine. I do not hate these mortals. I merely wish to separate the weak from the strong. There is a new dawn coming, and I intend to provide some tools to the artists which will have the privilege to sculpt it into reality."
  
  "The Council will vote to hunt you down." And in all likelihood, his genitor himself was going to abandon his carnal activities to make sure Prometheus returned to his old prison, where the eagle would be able to tear his face apart...again.
  
  "Certain unpleasant issues can be tolerated in the name of my amusement." The Titan gloated. "Ah, here is Neo Diana."
  
  Dionysus raised an eyebrow, wondering why Prometheus had so blatantly changed the topic of this acrimonious exchange.
  
  A second later, it was evident why the former 'councillor' of Kronos had done so.
  
  The young Demigoddess was coming forwards, but not in plain clothes. Unlike the Demigods and Demigoddesses of Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate, the Charm-singer girl had directly donned a 'Cyber-Hoplite Armour'.
  
  Of course, themes were themes, so hers was the very shade of silvery moonlight.
  
  Still, it was very unprecedented. Commodus truly intended for his 'partner' to descend in this 'Maze-Arena', in defiance of the very real dangers any contestant had to face.
  
  What in the name of the Pit of Tartarus was Prometheus playing at?
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  "Well, this is an unpleasant morning," Perseus whispered.
  
  "Jackson? We are mere minutes past midnight."
  
  "Yes. And your opinion is irrelevant, for democracy dies in darkness." The leader of the Suicide Squad shook his head. "But it is irrelevant now. The presence of the Titan of Crafty Counsel is...incredibly concerning."
  
  It explained lot of things, all right. And it made the possible worst-case scenarios particularly unpleasant.
  
  "The Titan just swore he wouldn't directly intervene."
  
  "That just means he has already intervened, by providing our ignoble host with everything he needs." Perseus countered. "Let's not be naive on that point."
  
  "There are plenty of sources to be wary," Bianca di Angelo agreed with him, what a nice surprise. "I see over three dozen Centaurs being armed in a nearby tunnel. For some reason, they think shadows hide them from my sight."
  
  The black-haired Demigod was sure half of this team was asking the same question silently.
  
  In the end, it was Clarisse La Rue who voiced it out loud.
  
  "Do we completely change the order of battle for the Sixth Labour? While you correctly predicted we would need people able to expertly wield the cyber-bows, there was nothing to warn us that the Charm-song Demigoddess would take the field."
  
  The former Tyrant hesitated for a couple of seconds.
  
  It was entirely possible that Commodus had been told that he didn't need to participate in the Sixth Labour, courtesy of the oracle-like Sire of the Drakons.
  
  Unfortunately, there weren't any perfect counter-moves for that. Any change he did right now was going to be paid in blood and tears later. The members of Team Adjudicator who took the field for the Sixth were guaranteed to be out of commission for the Seventh Labour, courtesy of their Cyber-Hoplite Armour having limited energy resources.
  
  "I am going to make one change," the son of Poseidon finally decided with a grimace. "Bianca, you're taking command. Asterius, it seems you're not going after all. We're not going to throw two Maze specialists into the fray, after all. Otherwise, the order of battle will stay close to my original plan."
  
  Dakota made a sound, which could be interpreted in a myriad of ways.
  
  "And this order of battle is? For the record."
  
  "For the record, we have Spartacus, our army-killer. Jade and Iphigenia will be the elite archers we need for this Labour. Leo will be the pyrokinesist who will give you some fire and light in this darkness. Drew will be the second army-killer we will deploy, because I don't think Commodus can be trusted to deploy nasty surprises alone and unsupported."
  
  "And I may be able to negate the Charm-song of the enemy," the daughter of Aphrodite added with a smirk."
  
  "That too," Perseus nodded. "And to make sure we have enough sappers, minesweepers, and counter-jamming specialists, six of our Telekhine allies will go with you, as they have Cyber-Hoplite Armour which will make sure they can follow your furious pace into the Maze."
  
  From the corner of the eye, the powerful Demigod saw many Ares-sworn mercenaries sigh in relief. It was...wildly optimistic of them, to say the least. Didn't they think about why he didn't send a single one of them now?
  
  Oh, well. There would be time to face the music later.
  
  "This is a strong team," Luke Castellan told him.
  
  "The time for jokes is over, and if we don't take this Labour seriously, then we're all going to die. It might have escaped the vigilance of some spectators, but I seem to have heard out loud that until we grab these fake Golden Apples, we will have to send our reinforcements twelve by twelve into this inferno. Best to send the twelve who will win this Labour right away, and win in an outstanding manner."
  
  "It makes sense, I suppose."
  
  "Glad to hear you say it, my heroic lieutenant. Team Triumvirate?"
  
  "I can't really read the lips of someone if they have their back turned, but it looks like Medea is going to be the leader of their twelve. By the way several members are moving for the Cyber-Hoplite Armours, I think they intend to go with five Mars-sworn mercenaries, four Legionnaires...and two girls as archers."
  
  Many people grimaced.
  
  "What the hell are they thinking-"
  
  "Unlike us, they don't have Jade and Iphigenia as archers who are not at risk. And if they don't send people who can use cyber-bows, you might as well prepare your team to get butchered into this dark Maze."
  
  "Don't Romans have long-range options?"
  
  "They do," Dakota replied for him. "Overall, though, they either choose javelins, or, if the battle we fought to recover the Golden Fleece was their classic doctrine, they deploy quantity of machine guns and artillery to stop an onslaught."
  
  "And they can't do that here."
  
  "Yes, they can't do that here," Perseus repeated the words. "Gladiators of the Sixth Labour, you should go prepare yourselves. I don't think the Narcissist-in-chief is going to give us much more time before he opens the gates for the bloodbath."
  
  26 January 2007, the Maze of the Sixth Labour, Commodus Coliseum
  
  The Maze was giving Leo some very bad memories of Forge MP-42. There were killer-automatons everywhere, and with the walls closing behind you, it felt like the battleground itself was trying to corner you.
  
  It wasn't too bad for now.
  
  They had Spartacus, the Bane of Rome himself, taking the vanguard, and Bianca di Angelo, the Lightning Thief, was throwing spell after spell, destroying everything the gladiator hadn't mangled or annihilated.
  
  But Leo was very aware that he was the one illuminating the battlefield. Who would have thought? The automatons had night vision-optics, and they weren't happy at all to face enemies which could see them relatively easily.
  
  "I thought the plan called for finding and uniting with the twelve of Team Triumvirate."
  
  "Yes," Drew replied, her arms transformed into swords, "and maybe if the entrances had been close to each other, that would have been easy to unite and do something about this Maze. Unfortunately, it seems the enemy anticipated that. Wherever the entrance gate of Team Triumvirate led, it was nowhere near us."
  
  Leo grimaced, but didn't argue further.
  
  What would be the point? The problem was there, and the Legionnaires of the Triumvirate weren't going to materialise in front of them because he suddenly wanted them to.
  
  It didn't stop him from thinking it would be good to have more numbers. The killer-automatons were coming in bigger and bigger waves with every minute. And-
  
  "We have made good pace." The daughter of Hades announced. "It's been twenty minutes, but we are incredibly close to one of the 'Cascade Gates' separating us from the 'Neo Hesperides' Tree."
  
  "And what's the catch?" Jade, Champion of Khione, asked, ice covering her hair and her hands.
  
  "The catch is that the shortest path is through this corridor, and there's an armoured door to top it all." The Lightning Thief said bluntly. "This reeks of a trap."
  
  "If there is one, we will disarm it," the biggest of the five Telekhines assured her.
  
  It was incredibly comical to see a shark sort of 'dance' within a Hoplite Armour, but the Telekhine managed it.
  
  "Give me a fin, wouldn't you? Ah! Yes, I see!"
  
  One second later, poisoned arrows were shot through the corridor. How could you tell it was poison? You could smell it from where Leo stood!
  
  "That was it?"
  
  Two huge explosions rocked the corridor. Metallic axes fell from the top of the walls. There were some Japanese-looking weapons forming steel clouds in the air, such were their numbers.
  
  "Yes," another Telekhine snarked. "That was indeed it. They didn't skip on the good old traditions. Now-"
  
  It was the last word the shark-like monster had ever the opportunity to say, for a giant harpoon skewered him from behind, ensuring he slammed against the wall.
  
  Leo was pretty sure the Telekhine was dead upon impact, though.
  
  But the most horrifying part? The harpoon had not come from the trapped corridor.
  
  It had come from behind the members of Team Adjudicator.
  
  It had come from the zone where the Demigods and their allies had believed they were safe. If they weren't-
  
  "Run!" Another Telekhine commanded. "By triggering the traps of the corridor, we also activated a second set of traps all across the Maze! RUN!"
  
  Leo didn't need more encouragement to run. He had only made three steps when he saw the Telekhine sapper who had been working upon the disarmament methods disappear as a giant hole swallowed him.
  
  More harpoons were thrown. The air was filled with death once more, and a thousand killer-automatons charged in pursuit.
  
  Leo ran, using his cyber-axe every step of the way, and didn't look back.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Luke Castellan was pretty sure he had vomited half of what he had eaten during the last meal when the killer-automatons finished butchering the second Telekhine.
  
  Trapped in a pit filled dart-covered nets, the shark had been forced to wait, trapped in a crippled armour, that the mechanical monsters decided which moment was the most adequate for the slaughter.
  
  Two Telekhines were dead in a matter of minutes. Not since the Third Labour there had been such a disaster, and this time, the Huntresses couldn't be blamed for it.
  
  "This is very bad news," the son of Hermes said after clearing his throat.
  
  "Yes." Perseus' eyes were incredibly cold, and the red eye stared unflinchingly. Unlike many Demigods of Team Adjudicator, there was no sign he had had nausea or flinched at the spectacle. "They went for our counter-jamming specialist first. I doubt it was a coincidence."
  
  Luke gaped.
  
  "You mean...this isn't..."
  
  "I think all these traps were remotely activated by Commodus, yes." One eye of green and one eye of red gave a glance to the smirking Narcissist Predator on his throne at the opposite end of the Coliseum. "Or more likely, he gave the command to one of his Praetorians hidden somewhere in the foundations of his gladiatorial edifice. This was too precise, and the Telekhines should have noticed these traps. No, it was a very deadly and accurate form of execution."
  
  "At least they're on the very doorstep of the inner arena, right?"
  
  "I would have preferred them to be a bit late and have lost no one," the son of Poseidon replied very seriously. "Twelve fighters was an effective already too small to my taste, but now that they're reduced to ten, the vulnerabilities increase."
  
  For a few seconds, the two male Demigods watched as Bianca di Angelo incinerated the killer-automatons which had tried to pursue the Suicide Squad too fast. Clearly the murderous pieces of devilish machinery had overestimated their strength; they were now burning in black flames as they spoke.
  
  "Maybe you should have sent Miranda with them." Luke coughed. "She could have tried to dig under the walls and tear apart their foundations."
  
  "Miranda is strong, but alone, she can't do it dozens of times on her own before getting exhausted. Moreover, if I send every powerful Champion we have to a single Labour, that just means there won't be anyone left to fight the Labour after that."
  
  Luke felt like someone had placed a piece of very disgusting food in his mouth. Yeah, he had almost forgotten that.
  
  "The bloodlust levels are rising higher and higher." Perseus decided to apparently focus on something else. "I don't think...ah. The destroyed automatons' fluids do not look like mere oil."
  
  "I don't like where this is going," Richard Grant had returned to an aggressive posture and crossed his muscular arms.
  
  "You shouldn't. These are no creations of Hephaestus' work."
  
  It was difficult to see all the details of the killing-automatons, but yeah, now that it was mentioned...they were all bronze-coloured, but they seemed to have their limbs and weapons in a far cruder style than what they had faced at Forge MP-42.
  
  Unfortunately, 'cruder' didn't mean 'not dangerous'.
  
  Luke grimaced. This was certainly one part where a certain Titan had helped Commodus.
  
  "Team Triumvirate does not fare as well as we do."
  
  "Unlike Bianca, they have decided steady and cautious is the way to go. And for the moment, it works: let me remind you they have yet to lose a teammate."
  
  "They don't have Spartacus and Bianca di Angelo."
  
  "But by pressing hard, Team Adjudicator has ensured quantities of opponents are rushing to stop the faster advance, not the one of Team Triumvirate. Of course, it may be premature speculation. Medea and her team still have a long way to go."
  
  "This is bad," Annabeth spoke thoughtfully. "We did have a plan where the two teams cooperated, right?"
  
  "This plan, much as I don't like admitting it, is dead on target." The leader of the Suicide Squad affirmed. "We can't exactly join forces when by virtue of different entrance tunnels, the two teams began the Labour separated by a considerable distance of labyrinth-purposed walls."
  
  The son of Poseidon looked at his watch. Luke did the same. Twenty-five minutes had passed since the starting order was given.
  
  "They're going to have to fight their way through this cascade of acid alone." The blonde-haired Demigod who had stolen one of the true Apples of the Garden said seriously. "Fortunately, they have Bianca. It seems you made the right call on this one."
  
  "Bianca can triumph where many Demigods would fail despite their best efforts." Perseus Jackson nodded. "But I still don't like how this part of the Maze is perpetually shrouded from my sight. "Commodus is preparing something. Something incredibly bad."
  
  26 January 2007, the Third Cascade Gate, the Maze of the Sixth Labour
  
  They weren't surprised on one point: Perseus had warned them it was likely a cascade of some acidic substance, and indeed it was.
  
  The moment they had cleared the last obstacles and stepped forwards, everyone having a sense of smell could indeed 'enjoy' it. Iphigenia sneezed hard. Leo Valdez complained.
  
  Spartacus was the first to react, as could be expected. The legendary gladiator threw some disassembled parts of automaton directly into the pool the cascade fell into.
  
  The bronze-coloured metal promptly became smoking sludge.
  
  That was...not good.
  
  "The only way to pass through the Gate is to deactivate this cascade filling the pool," one of the Telekhines spoke.
  
  It was evident yes, but somehow, it had a calming effect on everyone. Of course, it helped that they weren't under immediate attack right now.
  
  "He's right," Bianca approved. "The cascade is powerful, and it acts as a natural barrier between us and the Gate. I think Achilles' Curse would let me reach the door by myself, but all of you would die long before that."
  
  "I'm so glad this point was made," Jade retorted before pointing at the statues on every side of the cascade. "The walls and the floors are bare, save for these horrors."
  
  It was true the stone artworks could have been a bit more...err...nicely presented? As it was, you could almost believe the author wanted to show you some sort of human-gargoyle hybrid.
  
  "Each of the statues has its mouth open," Bianca di Angelo told them. "And there is a sort of magical receptor in them. I believe you are supposed to shoot arrows at them, and perfect hits will result in the cascade flowing elsewhere."
  
  "Awesome!" Leo Valdez commented.
  
  "By the way the receptors' pulses are synchronised," the daughter of Hades continued, ignoring the outburst, "I believe the twelve statues must be neutralised within ten seconds, maybe less."
  
  Suddenly, it didn't seem like good news at all. There were only two archers among the ten survivors: Iphigenia and Jade.
  
  The former didn't seem too worried, however.
  
  "We have a clear field to shoot at the statues-"
  
  In a thunderous sound, more acidic substance began to flow. But this time, it was over the heads of every 'not-gargoyle' ornamental structure.
  
  "You were saying?" a Telekhine bared his fangs.
  
  "Oh, shut up, you sorry excuse of a dolphin!"
  
  "Excuse me?"
  
  "Stop this," Bianca ordered. "Jade. Can you do it?"
  
  "I can turn my arrows into magical ice, and give them enough firepower to get through, yes." The Champion of Khione breathed out. "But doing it so quickly and without missing a target..."
  
  One also couldn't forget how far away the mouths of the statues were. Fifty metres or so might not seem that impressive as a distance, but each target was the size of your hand. In the penumbra conditions, with only Leo's fire to provide a big source of light, it didn't look like an easy challenge at all.
  
  "Go. Turn the arrows of Iphigenia first, and then shoot. We will try to provide protection for as long as possible."
  
  Drew waited for several second by the Frost Champion's side, and then it began.
  
  It was an incredibly fast shooting.
  
  It was arrow after arrow being hurled in close succession.
  
  The mouths of the statues closed one by one.
  
  And then Jade missed one shot.
  
  Not by a lot.
  
  The arrow ripped apart the stone some centimetres to the right of the mouth that had been the target.
  
  But it was a miss.
  
  The ground shook violently, as machinery kept dormant went into action.
  
  And though the cascade flow began to brutally diminish, the gears of the Coliseum didn't stop. The targets were hit one by one, and yet nothing stopped.
  
  Drew was almost ready for the spikes to get out of the ground, or for poisoned arrows to fall upon them in a deadly rain.
  
  But these attacks didn't come.
  
  Instead, the giant pool which had been before the cascade was emptying before their very eyes.
  
  The levels of acidic substance were recording lower mark after mark.
  
  And as the liquid disappeared, it revealed a monumental head first.
  
  Then more details of monstrous biology appeared one after another.
  
  "This is impossible, they shouldn't be-"
  
  "DRAKON!"
  
  A lid moved and then opened, revealing a dangerous iris of reptilian yellow.
  
  In the distance, they heard Commodus laugh.
  
  "TAKE COVER!"
  
  The Drakon roared, and unfurled itself. It was assuredly not something the size of the one Jackson had killed at the Forge of Perils, but it remained something stupidly gigantic.
  
  "DISPERSE!"
  
  They scattered.
  
  It was just in time, for what felt like a million tongues of shadows were hurled at the area they'd been standing.
  
  Stone melted and grew twisted.
  
  The flames Leo Valdez had spread faltered and died.
  
  "THE EYES! SHOOT AT ITS EYES!"
  
  But the irises were already half-closed, and the arrows melted in mid-flight, swallowed by the darkness.
  
  The maw opened again.
  
  Drew launched herself forwards, and struck.
  
  For a single moment, her world became pain, and the daughter of Aphrodite screamed.
  
  When Drew recovered enough to assess the damage, her eyes were prompt to inform her that she hadn't even managed to scratch the monster's scales.
  
  "What is this damned species? Even the Lydian Drakons are vulnerable to my symbiote's weapons!"
  
  "BURN!"
  
  But the flames of the son of the son of Hephaestus didn't achieve anything.
  
  The Drakon attacked again. Its claws went on to devastate everything in large radius, and as if things couldn't become worse, shadows danced around the natural weapons of mass destruction.
  
  One Telekhine was too slow, and stumbled in trying to avoid being impaled on them.
  
  The next second, the maw opened.
  
  The shark didn't even have a single second to scream; the blast was so terrible there wasn't even ashes left when they were able to illuminate the scene once more.
  
  "VENGEANCE!" Spartacus threw himself at the dragon, one cyber-sword in each hand. The power of the legendary Bane of Rome was exhilarating, and for a second, Drew dared herself to hope. Spartacus was not Achilles, but maybe, just maybe-
  
  The 'cyber-swords' were as ineffective as the rest of the weapons.
  
  It wasn't that they were sabotaged, or anything - otherwise they wouldn't have been able to fight their way through the Maze. It was just that the scales were just too tough.
  
  "FORGET THE USUAL PARTS LIKE THE THROAT! THE EYES! YOU NEED TO REMOVE THE EYES!"
  
  It was easy to say.
  
  It was nearly impossible to do in practice.
  
  The Drakon wasn't waiting for each of their moves; it was coiling and uncoiling, letting them make foolhardy moves, and only then counterattacking with many Demigod-killer attacks.
  
  Drew was running for her life. Her weapons could do nothing.
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite could see no one was faring better. Iphigenia and Jade attacked with their long-range options, but their quivers were depleting way too fast.
  
  "I think we must retreat," she hissed to the Lightning Thief, who was preparing some sort of spell. "We clearly don't have the weapons to bring down this creature!"
  
  "Out of the question," Bianca di Angelo continued carving things into the stones while dancing to avoid a nasty Drakonic blast. "There is an army of killer-automatons waiting right behind us; their instructions are clearly to let the prime monster take care of us, but it will all change if we try to flee."
  
  "But-"
  
  "And frankly, the Drakon isn't chained down by anything; it can pursue us."
  
  "What are you going to do?"
  
  "DIE IN THE NAME OF FREEDOM!"
  
  "Give me a couple of minutes. I have an idea."
  
  "A couple of minutes?" Drew said aghast. "Why not an hour, while you're at it?"
  
  "That's an order, Tanaka!"
  
  "I hear and I obey!"
  
  Drew rushed to meet the enemy.
  
  Many other days, it would have felt good.
  
  This was not one of these days.
  
  She was a distraction.
  
  The Drakon uncoiled its enormous tail, and tried to pulverise her, but it was almost as an afterthought; the explosions of the Telekhines sappers did far more to attract its attention.
  
  "Come on," Leo Valdez protested as his flames weakened, and the smoke was banished to reveal scales that had not even been blackened by the power of fire. "It must be vulnerable to something!"
  
  "Ice does nothing to it!" Jade spat while trying to use multiple arrows at once...and no, while the frost did indeed create a bigger ice spear ultimately, it left the Drakon unhurt.
  
  "DISPERSE!"
  
  "THE EYES AREN'T A WEAK POINT!"
  
  "THANT YOU, WE HADN'T NOTICED!"
  
  The 'debate' was interrupted by what felt like they were drowning into a world of darkness.
  
  And this time, they saw Spartacus fall.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Annabeth was there when Spartacus fell.
  
  The legendary gladiator had attacked in the direction no one would have thought to: the maw itself.
  
  It had worked.
  
  Impossibly, Spartacus had managed to sever several fangs of the Drakonic beast.
  
  For the first time, the blood of the enemy had been spilled.
  
  For a second, there had been a flicker of unease on Commodus' face.
  
  But it didn't last long.
  
  And Spartacus had advanced alone, unsupported, because the other members of the Suicide Squad had some self-preservation instincts.
  
  There was no one to shield him when the Drakon threw another blast of dark energy, sending him smashing in what had been the approaches of the cascade gate, and which was now an antechamber to hell.
  
  Spartacus avoided one claw. Then two.
  
  One of his swords melted under the power of the Drakon.
  
  Spartacus appeared to recover some of this strength.
  
  It was just in time to see the enormous maw open straight above him.
  
  The last sword danced and delivered a blow that a God would have felt for days.
  
  To be sure, the Drakon felt it and was severely injured by it.
  
  But the evil beast, be it by spite or sheer fury, found within its dark heart to finish the attack and snap its maw shut.
  
  There was a horrible squelching sound.
  
  And when the Drakon opened its maw again, human blood poured out, along with pieces of metal that no proper smith would ever have the skill to repair in a short amount of time.
  
  "HA! HA! HA! IT SEEMS THE REPUTATION OF THE BANE OF ROME WAS EXTREMELY OVERSTATED!"
  
  Commodus laughed, and the spectators laughed with him.
  
  The Drakon opened its maw again to fire a new massive blast of dark power, the light dying under its maw-
  
  And Hell was unleashed.
  
  Infernal chains were summoned and acted as harpoons, impaling the limbs of the monster and immobilising him.
  
  Enormous spikes surged from the floor, causing little damage but further decreasing the ability of the beast to avoid attacks.
  
  Hell was unleashed without warning, and poured into the surprised Drakonic maw in the form of colossal flames where the green appeared to fight the obsidian.
  
  The head of the giant monster seemed to inflate under the power flowing in its power.
  
  The tail and every part of the semi-serpentine body shivered uncontrollably.
  
  There was a colossal shriek, and the head of the Drakon imploded.
  
  There was a sky-high geyser of magic, followed by an avalanche of bones and monster body parts.
  
  Claws and fangs ended up projected across the entire Coliseum, with only emergency barriers preventing spectators' deaths.
  
  The cheers of the crowd ceased immediately.
  
  Bianca di Angelo stood, alone, undaunted, and her expression was one of pure murder.
  
  "Right," Clarisse said weakly next to the daughter of Athena. "I suddenly think that Jackson wasn't joking too much when he said that in a previous life, she conquered a bloody continent more or less on her own."
  
  26 January 2007, approaches of the Neo Hesperides Lake, the Central Arena of the Sixth Labour
  
  "This was no normal Drakon," Jade didn't know if she was to be relieved or terrified that Bianca di Angelo after her titanic magical attack appeared to be ready to collapse in exhaustion.
  
  "I don't think it was a Drakon at all," the young Champion of Khione admitted honestly. "For all the duration of the battle, the Drakonic part of me...it was screaming in agony. It was...awful."
  
  Jade shivered unconsciously. This had been one very painful and unpleasant battle, beyond the hopelessness of facing an opponent able to endure all of your blows.
  
  "One more devilry of the Sire of the Drakons?" Drew Tanaka asked as a bridge materialised and the gate fell destroyed by the fire assaults of Leo Valdez.
  
  "No. No, I felt his presence before, and this was totally different."
  
  "The Titan, then. It must have been one of his gifts to Commodus."
  
  "That would make sense, yes."
  
  Though for the life of her, Jade didn't have any clue how you bred that sort of abomination. Yes, the Ice Drakon Perseus Jackson had slain had been tough, but then it had been a God-Beast, and a millennia-old Primordial Drakon at that.
  
  This kind of opponent wasn't found at the corner of a street. Yet Commodus had organised a Labour with one, and on very short notice.
  
  "Anyway," the former Huntress sighed. "I don't hear or see anything indicating Team Triumvirate is on the way to catch us before we grab the so-called 'Golden Apples'."
  
  Bianca di Angelo muttered a word. A black glyph materialised in front of her...before immediately fading away.
  
  "The Immortal Sorceress Medea is still in the arena, but at least a kilometre away."
  
  "They decided to make a cautious approach, then."
  
  "Look at your armour's main characteristics, Jade."
  
  She obeyed, the tone of the daughter of Hades as imperious as ever, and-
  
  Time since the start of Sixth Labour: 35 minutes 24 seconds
  
  Energy reserves of the Armour: 48%
  
  "Oh, hell," and yes, she may have uttered a few curses after that.
  
  "Oh, hell indeed," the Lightning Thief replied. "It is as Jackson feared. Our armours were made for battlefield simulations, not the insane high-intensity of the Maze. We have some time to spare, but if we aren't be careful, our Cyber-Hoplite Armours will run out of power before we return to the entrance platform."
  
  Jade grimaced. That would be really, really bad.
  
  "But enough about that," the black-haired Demigoddess commanded. "We can't afford to wait for the Triumvirate; we will see what we can do about them once the main objective is in our hands."
  
  "Can we do anything for them?" Drew asked as the two Telekhine specialists left verified that there weren't more unpleasant surprises left near the destroyed 'Cascade Gate'. "We just lost Spartacus and two more of our Telekhine allies. There are just seven of us left and-"
  
  "We suffered significant losses, but we must go ahead." Bianca spoke in a voice that was no Charmspeak, and yet it was something that gave you the urge it couldn't be disobeyed. "The more Labours we succeed at, the greater the chances of the Final Plan to be our triumph."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "All right."
  
  The members of the Suicide Squad went forwards, as the Telekhines and Leo had preceded them. Then came Iphigenia, Drew, Bianca, and Jade took the role of the rear-guard gladiator.
  
  It was calm.
  
  There wasn't any sound of battle.
  
  It was too calm.
  
  The mini-arena - a location that had been magically expanded to be as big as the field for a game of soccer - was as silent as a grave.
  
  "It feels...weird, and not in a good way."
  
  All nodded at Leo Valdez's words.
  
  The arena, in appearance, was simplicity itself. Most of it was swallowed by a lake which was troubled by no underwater current and no wind. What awaited in its depths, Jade couldn't tell, for this was a dark liquid which hid its content, and no, bringing a flame next to it did nothing to solve the problem.
  
  At the centre of the lake, a tree of gold had been placed, atop a ridiculously tiny island. As the 'High Judge' had told them, there were five 'Golden Apples', no more, no less.
  
  "Are the fruits cursed?" This was her first question, as everything reeked too much of the bait-trap combination someone like Commodus would love.
  
  "Actually, no, they aren't," the closest Telekhine answered, snorting at her expression of surprise. "Yes, Champion, it surprised me too, but it seems these fruits are exactly what they appear to be. They are made of pure gold, and so is the tree. There is no magic imbued in them. Whatever trap was prepared here, the golden tree and its apples are not part of it."
  
  "It's the lake," Bianca di Angelo intervened.
  
  "This is my opinion too," the second Telekhine bowed. "Not being able to peer into its depths is a very bad sign. But I must insist all my instruments tell me this lake is empty. And at this distance, unless the lake is kilometres-deep, there's no way too fool them. It can't be a living being which plays the role of guardian of this 'Tree of Neo Hesperides'."
  
  "That leaves all the non-living possibilities," the daughter of Hades darkly reminded the armoured shark. "I presume this is not water filling this lake?"
  
  "It is part water, mixed with another substance. But what exactly the substance in question is, I'm afraid I won't be of any help. If I take samples-"
  
  "No, please abstain. We don't know if touching the lake will be enough to trigger whatever new trap Commodus has prepared to kill us. Jade?"
  
  The Champion of Khione breathed out, having a good idea of what was coming.
  
  "Let me guess. You want me to do the ice rope tactic and go grab a Golden Apple?"
  
  "Exactly."
  
  The former Huntress had hoped it wasn't the case.
  
  Nonetheless, it made sense to test that before other, more desperate options were attempted.
  
  Jade focused, and poured power into one more arrow.
  
  To her pleasant surprise, it hit the upper branched of the gold tree effortlessly. There was no resistance too as she poured more ice between the projectile and her bow, and even less when she created her own ice tree to stabilise the rope.
  
  "Prepare to intervene if something comes out of the lake to attack me."
  
  Crossing with the ice rope was child's play. Jade wasn't going to try to run over it, there was audacity and there was stupidity, but using only arms and legs like an agile monkey left her able to give glances to the placid black lake.
  
  No attack came. Needless to say, the Champion of the Second Queen of Hell didn't like that at all.
  
  Preparing herself for the worst, Jade grabbed a golden apple.
  
  Nothing changed.
  
  Jade frowned.
  
  Her fingers almost went to grab a second one, but she remembered the limits in time. If someone tried to grab a second Golden Apple...the trap might be there, ultimately, some kind of inactive alarm the Telekhines were unable to locate.
  
  Jade crossed back the lake.
  
  "You did a fantastic job!" Leo cheered on, bringing plenty of smiles on some faces, half of them carnivorous. "Okay, I think that with my fire, I can't exactly use your ice rope, but-"
  
  There was a flash, and her rope broke before turning into black dust.
  
  The arrow she had stuck into the golden tree dissolved like it had never existed.
  
  "What in the name of my Goddess was that?"
  
  "It was...magic," Bianca di Angelo looked in every direction. "Seriously powerful magic...and...I don't know...it felt ancient."
  
  "Oh, come on! We can't be that unlucky!"
  
  "Don't be stupid, Valdez," the Lightning Thief said tersely. "Luck has nothing to do with it. There's something hostile there testing us. We were told we needed three different gladiators to grab the three Golden Apples, correct?"
  
  "Correct," Jade presented one of the fruits in question to the gaze of the others, before placing a small layer of frost protection around it. The Cyber-Hoplite Armours, evidently, had no such precious parts called 'pockets'.
  
  "Then it stands to reason each of the trial-takers for the Golden Apples must cross the lake in a different manner." The daughter of the King of the Underworld said in her royal voice.
  
  "And...how are we going to...hey!"
  
  Give it to Bianca di Angelo, she wasn't the kind of Demigoddess to prattle for hours. The moment she had finished speaking, the Lightning Thief began to levitate, her feet shrouded by small spheres of shadows.
  
  Her progression several feet over the lake was slow, and visibly, it cost her a lot of energy. But it worked.
  
  Soon enough, the second Golden Apple was in her hands. The return journey, however, was clearly tiring their leader for the Sixth Labour. Several times, Bianca almost collapsed. And in fact the moment she was back, the girl who had stolen once the Master Bolt fell upon her knees, and grimaced.
  
  "There's something in this lake...something that fought my magic," the powerful Demigoddess gasped. "I don't think it is alive...it must be some kind of artefact."
  
  "That..." the Telekhine before her raised a fin. "That is a very big problem, no?"
  
  There was a second pulse of magic, and the streaks of shadow magic the daughter of Hades had left over the lake were banished as if they had never existed.
  
  "It is." Drew spoke. "Because unless I miss my guess? We have just exhausted all our options that included going above the lake. Let's face it, at least two of our company would have no problem swimming fifty metres, but since we are pretty much sure there is something awful ready to attack us there..."
  
  "But we need to find a way to cross."
  
  "Well," the first Telekhine opened his fanged maw, "usually, I would recommend the construction of an improvised bridge, but clearly, there are no construction materials anywhere, and the same could be said of the place where we fought the not-Drakon."
  
  "Couldn't we use some of the statues?"
  
  "No. They aren't tall enough, and I don't think I could assemble them to form some kind of bridge. I am a Telekhine, not a magician."
  
  Some pair of eyes fell upon Bianca di Angelo.
  
  "Forget it," the dark sorceress shook her head. "I need to save my strength for the return journey."
  
  "In that case, I don't see how it can be achieved. I'm afraid-"
  
  The next seconds would be a long and vivid nightmare in Jade's head for the rest of her mortal life.
  
  The lake erupted with no warning.
  
  The black waters seemed to boil, and a magical bubble emerged slowly from its depths.
  
  It was powerful.
  
  It felt wrong immediately.
  
  It was wrong.
  
  It was...a book?
  
  No, it was the Book. It was wrong, wrong, wrong-
  
  COME!
  
  Jade screamed. She was joined by many voices.
  
  The entire world seemed to become madness itself.
  
  The Drakonic part of her told her to flee.
  
  But she couldn't.
  
  She couldn't do anything!
  
  She couldn't do anything save watch Iphigenia step forwards, slowly, her Cyber-Hoplite Armour somehow walking on the surface of the black lake.
  
  And suddenly, Jade realised the horrific nature of the trap.
  
  "NO! NO! FIGHT IT!"
  
  But Iphigenia didn't seem to hear her supplication.
  
  She continued to advance.
  
  The Huntress stopped before the book.
  
  DISROBE. YOU ARE TO BE BARE BEFORE ME.
  
  Jade prayed her former sister was going to resist. That she would challenge this demonic artefact. That the growing blue-green 'bubble' engulfing the book would diminish.
  
  That all of it would soon cede and stop the nightmare.
  
  The Cyber-Hoplite Armour fell into the lake, broken beyond repair.
  
  "NO! RESIST!"
  
  Someone shook her arm.
  
  "We have to go!" the Telekhine snarled. "What is going to happen-"
  
  "We have to save her!"
  
  "We have to save ourselves first!"
  
  READ!
  
  The unnatural book opened, though no mortal hand had touched it.
  
  Iphigenia, to her terror, obeyed.
  
  The first words make her ears bleed.
  
  Jade screamed again.
  
  A cyber-spear went flying.
  
  A Telekhine had thrown it.
  
  It stopped metres short of its target.
  
  The weapon was disintegrated by an explosion of blue-green magic.
  
  And then the shark imploded, spraying them with a show of gore and monster flesh.
  
  "FLEE! FLEE YOU FOOLS!"
  
  "RETREAT! RETREAT IMMEDIATELY!"
  
  "But Iphigenia...the Golden Apples!"
  
  "FORGET EVERYTHING AND RUN! RUN AWAY!"
  
  Jade closed her eyes and did as she was told.
  
  She fled, even as the litany of damnation resumed, and the entire world seemed to fall into madness.
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  There were campaigns and great events where Dionysus had been extremely proud to be recognised as God of Madness.
  
  It wasn't the case today.
  
  No, today, it was nothing to be proud at all. It was just something that allowed him to mitigate the collateral damage.
  
  And it wasn't a lot.
  
  The members of the Suicide Squad finally fled from the arena. This was...not good, but a small consolation.
  
  They were completely powerless against the power that had arisen from the lake.
  
  If they had stayed, they would have all died. And no, the presence of Perseus Jackson wouldn't have changed anything.
  
  Dionysus was the only one who could face these heights of madness, and not be driven insane by it. This was his burden, for alone of all the Olympians, he was already mad.
  
  "Perseus Jackson called your protégé ignoble, Prometheus, but you are worse than him by several leagues."
  
  "Oh come on! I just brought forwards this artefact so that the Lost Princess could achieve her dreams!"
  
  If you had any doubt about it left, yes, the Titan was a malevolent monster. Several males and females of his race were brutes, destruction incarnate, and worse things, but only Prometheus, as far as the Olympian knew, had that urge to debase you until there were no differences between malignant sociopaths and your own essence.
  
  Prometheus deserved a thousand times the tortures his genitor had inflicted upon him.
  
  If he could strangle him, Dionysus would do it in a heartbeat.
  
  But he couldn't.
  
  All he could do was erecting a barrier between the inner arena and the outside world, so that the sounds didn't come out, and the vision of what was happening wasn't clear at all. Madness had to be contained, otherwise they were going to get hundreds of thousands of deaths, and that was likely an optimistic estimate.
  
  The incantation ended.
  
  Something metaphysical snapped, the last embers of Artemis' protection being shredded.
  
  The Primordial Book seemed to pour more of its magic into a baleful aura.
  
  And then the prehensile appendages came out of the book.
  
  Dionysus thought that for a fraction of a second, the poor girl realised what she had done. What kind of damnation the malice of ancient beings had forced her to embrace.
  
  But there was no escape, no salvation to be found.
  
  Two of the green-blue appendages, extending as hyper-long tentacles, neutralised her arms, while an even bigger appendage invaded her mouth. In all violation of the law of physics understood by mortals, it looked as several metres of muscular mass disappeared into her throat.
  
  And then the book began to dissolve.
  
  The tentacles faded away; the magic that kept the levitation active had used all its power.
  
  The Primordial Book was no more.
  
  Iphigenia fell into the lake.
  
  It seemed the contact with the water and the black oily magical reagent was particularly cold, for the naked girl resurfaced within a couple of seconds, spluttering and shouting insults.
  
  "I don't know what you were given to bring this book here," Dionysus said coldly. "But I hope it was good for you. You have just earned yourself a nice torture session and the loathing of pretty much deity having some honour."
  
  "And what if I told you I just wanted to help this girl become the Prime Contractor of the Dreaming One?"
  
  "Then I will answer that one day, you will receive the fate your former King the Titan of Time did, and it will be completely deserved."
  
  Prometheus merely chuckled.
  
  In the mean time, Iphigenia had tried swimming to reach the island of the golden tree.
  
  She almost was there when the transformation began.
  
  Dionysus felt his fists tighten, and it took an incredible effort of self-control to not turn into his divine form and incinerate the mortals present in the Throne-Lodge.
  
  He couldn't break the rules, alas.
  
  Only those inside the arena could intervene...and they didn't have the power or the resistance to madness to survive more than a few seconds.
  
  Worse of all, now, there wasn't anything that could really be done.
  
  The seed was inside the former Huntress.
  
  The arms promptly changed into the same prehensile appendages which had seized her later, complete with suckers.
  
  The body was altered beyond comprehension, the human colour being abandoned for the blue-green colour that was typical of the servants of the Dreaming One.
  
  The legs were ripped apart. The bones vanished.
  
  Powerful muscles replaced them, bathed in the divine power of the Abyss.
  
  The hair began to fall in droves.
  
  Iphigenia screamed...for not too long, for soon, her mouth disappeared too.
  
  Second after second, the former servant of Artemis lost her humanity.
  
  The legs had been completely transformed, and they were now completely replaced by six octopi-like tentacles. Many suckers soon emerged to cover them.
  
  In fact, the comparison with octopi was not exactly wrong: not as the head inflated to look more and more to take the attributes of one.
  
  Yet there were differences, for this was not a giant octopi being created. In fact, it looked like the Dreaming One wanted to give birth to something that could pass as the hybrid of said cephalopod and a human.
  
  The breasts of the girl who had been called Iphigenia became bigger. While the ears were removed, many smaller tentacles emerged from the sides of the head, giving her something close to the hair that had been taken from her moments ago. The eyes of the octopi were on different sides of the body, but the transforming girl still had hers in the same location.
  
  There was something akin to a void which swallowed everything.
  
  Dionysus blinked.
  
  "It is over."
  
  And indeed, it was.
  
  Minutes ago, there had been a girl, a former huntress. Now the being which was close to the island could no longer be called that.
  
  She was something inhuman. She was the Prime Contractor of the Dreaming One.
  
  If she had a true name now, it was not one that mortal tongues would be able to speak without losing their sanity first.
  
  Iphigenia had become the vision the Primordial of the Sea and the Abysses had wished for her; no longer a human; no longer a Huntress; instead something given immense powers and octopi-hybrid abilities to survive where he called her from.
  
  I WILL REMEMBER!
  
  The arena trembled.
  
  Prometheus' smile abruptly took a holiday.
  
  The 'Gold Tree of the Neo Hesperides' and its remaining apples were transformed into goo before you could say 'Titanomachy'.
  
  The new Prime Contractor plunged into the depths of the lake, which had suddenly turned the colour of her body.
  
  There was an explosion, and the new servant of Pontus was gone.
  
  For at least a good minute, no one spoke.
  
  Even for a God and a Titan, it was just a bit too much.
  
  The public seemed to not agree, but then Dionysus had shielded them from most of it.
  
  Someone cleared his throat.
  
  It was Commodus.
  
  "Well," the Narcissist Emperor said with an expression that was only the shadow of his usual smiles, "I don't think anyone is going to win this Labour."
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Perseus knew he had done some really bad things in his life.
  
  He was a Villain. That sort of things came with the job.
  
  And no, the former Tyrant wasn't going to apologise for them.
  
  Cities had burned. Armies had been routed. Entire provinces had been stripped of food. Many Names had died, their lives cut short by his magnificent plans. Heroes had cursed his name, hopefully long after he was dead.
  
  As Kairos Theodosian, he had certainly not been a hero, and unless someone was particularly delirious, he wasn't one of the 'good guys'.
  
  All of that was true; he swore it on his soul.
  
  But in this life or the other one, he had never done something so abominable as using this kind of damnation-incarnate artefact.
  
  Perseus had never been that insane...or evil.
  
  Yes, it was evil. Evil for the sake of cruelty and evilness.
  
  One could argue that Iphigenia had been destined to eventually become the servant of Pontus after the Clash of the Titans, but there had been a key word: eventually.
  
  It could have happened in a century or in a millennium. Time meant nothing to a Primordial, and Iphigenia had eternal youth.
  
  But Prometheus and Commodus had engineered...that.
  
  "I am going to slowly kill them," the Lord of the Suicide Squad leashed his anger, though he was sure that by his acidic tone alone, many around him weren't fooled. "Strangling the bastards with a carpet isn't going to be enough to satisfy my revenge lust, I think."
  
  "Explosives, Boss?"
  
  "No, Rico. It would far quicker than these bastards deserve..."
  
  Richard Grant cleared his throat.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "I think things are really beginning to turn very badly for Team Triumvirate."
  
  "Uh," Perseus returned to watching the Labour. "Yes, they are. It seems cutting down massively the number of gladiators is the order of the Labour."
  
  In many ways, it wasn't too much of a surprise. For all the madness and the evil it implied, Prometheus couldn't use a Primordial's artefact for every Labour. The Adjudicator Games wouldn't survive long...it was already a near-miracle they weren't dead; a miracle and Dionysus' intervention.
  
  Commodus had to eliminate them here and now; the number of Labours remaining after this one was merely six.
  
  "They are laughing now," the son of Hercules informed him.
  
  Perseus didn't waste his saliva asking who the 'they' were. There was no need to.
  
  "Let them laugh for now." It wasn't exactly like he could pour gold in their throats to stop their hilarity. "I see the Centaurs were unleashed against Team Triumvirate, not Team Adjudicator."
  
  "That and a true horde of monsters," Richard added. "The good news, as far as I can tell, is that Bianca has decided to rush reinforcing them as fast as she can."
  
  "She probably thinks that now that this Labour is a failure for us, it would be best to save what we can from this disaster." The son of Poseidon answered. "But the help might not arrive in time."
  
  To be sure, Team Adjudicator had faced a lot of enemies recently, and at the beginning of the Sixth Labour, Spartacus had slain thousands of killer-automatons.
  
  But Team Triumvirate didn't have Spartacus.
  
  They did have Medea, but the Immortal Sorceress was not fighting the same way.
  
  She needed time for her spells to gain potency, and of course, she was truly the only army-killer of her team of twelve; Medea didn't have the equivalent of Bianca and Drew to support her.
  
  In normal circumstances, this could have been negated somewhat.
  
  When you were cornered into one of the blind alleys of the Maze, with thousands upon thousands of enemies relentlessly attacking, it assuredly couldn't.
  
  The Centaurs shooting their poison-soaked arrows was just one more bad news in an ocean of drawbacks.
  
  Three Mars-sworn mercenaries had already been torn apart.
  
  And of course, because it could always get worse, the improvised torches were snuffed out.
  
  Team Triumvirate was cornered in a place with no escape, and all the enemies had night vision while the humans didn't have it.
  
  'Bad' didn't just begin to describe the full picture of it.
  
  "See," he ordered to the world, and the Demigod was given the insight he wished.
  
  As a result, Perseus saw Medea clench her jaw.
  
  He could read on the lips when the Immortal Sorceress ordered her subordinates to use the advance mode of the Cyber-Hoplite Armours.
  
  He knew that given the same array of bad options, he might have chosen the same.
  
  But Perseus also knew it was the wrong choice.
  
  The Princess of Colchis charged along with the surviving Triumvirate Legionnaires.
  
  Between cyber-swords, magic, and sheer ferocity, they carved a respectable amount of carnage.
  
  The 'Promethean automatons' at last were depleted. Plenty of monsters, be they snake-like or the mechanical variety, fell and did not get up again.
  
  Unfortunately, that left the Centaurs.
  
  They had not rushed into the melee with the others, and the Cyber-Armours were hardly perfect protections. Commodus had made sure of that, by leaving hips and other things completely uncovered.
  
  The Legionnaires began to die.
  
  They reaped an absurd number of enemies for each life they lost, but the Mars-sworn mercenaries had already perished, and they were only four Legionnaires in this Labour.
  
  And in the middle of this chaotic battlefield, Medea was far too busy to notice that the two girls marked as 'Neo Thespiades' had frozen and weren't fighting anymore.
  
  One of the two clearly realised what was happening, that her helmet was showing her things that weren't the reality. But that was too late. She tried to sever her own throat, but the Cyber-Armour refused to obey.
  
  The Charm-song arrived less than ten seconds after that. Resistance crumbled, and the two girls raced away, answering the music that would eventually turn them into Nemean Lionesses.
  
  The last Legionnaire still alive and Medea had of course by then realised what happened, and stopped the advanced mode of their helmet...for all the good it did, which was none.
  
  "Jackson! Do something!"
  
  Before one asked, yes, it was a Huntress speaking.
  
  "Your confidence that I can do something is absolutely admirable, but let me remind you that as long as the twelve members of Team Adjudicator are not dead or returned, I can't descend in the arena myself."
  
  "Drew and Bianca are almost there," Lou Ellen pointed out.
  
  "'Almost' is not good enough," the former Tyrant replied.
  
  For as he spoke the words, the last Legionnaire was falling, the wounds taken making sure that if he didn't see a Healer in the next ten seconds, death was a guarantee for him.
  
  Medea was alone.
  
  Alone, and the Centaurs had evidently had enough of the archery stage, because they drew cavalry sabres and went to full gallop.
  
  Medea cast a powerful spell.
  
  And the ground opened mere metres in front of her, showing a sort of...a disk covered in Greek symbols.
  
  "Expect the worse from them, and you won't be disappointed..."
  
  The sole positive silver lining you could find was that it was not something imbued with a Primordial essence.
  
  No, it was 'merely' a cursed item that activated when certain pre-conditions were fulfilled.
  
  Like right now.
  
  Medea screamed.
  
  She had every reason to.
  
  The Cyber-Armour protecting her was gone, and as she stood upon the corpses of some centaurs she had just terminated, her entire body below the navel was melting, while three very much alive Centaurs' were swallowed by something that materialised as an ink-filled pit.
  
  Commodus was laughing, evidently.
  
  There was nothing they could do to stop it. There was nothing Perseus could do.
  
  The rules were the rules.
  
  And that was cold comfort indeed.
  
  He could only watch with his lone red eye as the body of the Princess of Colchis stopped being entirely human.
  
  To be clear, above the navel, she still was completely human.
  
  But below it, the magic of the artefact was shaping her into something different.
  
  Something equine.
  
  A long black tail. An entirely black-sculpted body that you could only find on horses and their cousins. Golden hooves.
  
  Medea screamed a last time, and then the shock of the transformation knocked her unconscious.
  
  The transformation was over, though, and as far as Perseus could see, it had been solidified into something stable and permanent.
  
  She was-
  
  "ALL HAIL THE CENTAUR QUEEN!" Commodus gleefully and maliciously screamed to the cheering crowd. "ALL HAIL QUEEN MEDEA THE CENTAUR QUEEN! CENTAURS...HAVE YOUR WAY WITH HER!"
  
  "YES, IMPERATOR!"
  
  A first Centaur moved...and he disappeared into black flames.
  
  Then a second lost his head, and a lot of his body, severed in so many parts Perseus didn't manage to properly count them.
  
  "I believe a change of program is in order," he heard the girl who had been Triumphant hiss angrily. "All of you: DIE."
  
  The surviving monsters tried to escape. They were not fast enough.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  "It was a freaking disaster," Lou Ellen didn't know why it had come out of her mouth right now, but it had. Maybe it was watching the members of Team Triumvirate die one by one and watching it without being able to raise a finger to help them.
  
  "Yes, it was."
  
  Perseus' hand was in hers, and the words, strangely, brought a small measure of comfort.
  
  After watching Bianca and the rest of the exhausted survivors coming out of the Maze, the daughter of Hecate believed everyone was in need of reassurance and happiness.
  
  "I wouldn't have sent Iphigenia if I knew what awaited them in the depths of this lake."
  
  "But you didn't know."
  
  "Right now, it is, as the proverb says, very cold comfort, Lou Ellen."
  
  To this, there was no clever argument coming to mind.
  
  Team Adjudicator had sent twelve of its members in the Maze of the Sixth Labour.
  
  Only five had come out, and the wounds of the sole and only Telekhine survivor were so severe that until they got the Golden Fleece to heal him, the shark was for all intents and purposes out of the game. As for the four others, all were completely exhausted. Bianca di Angelo had been running on black fumes for too long, Drew and Jade were nearly comatose, and Leo had required a stretcher once he was extracted out of his armour.
  
  Those were the five who had survived the Sixth Labour. Seven had not returned, and six out of said number were dead. As for the seventh, the blonde Demigoddess knew that whatever she had become would not have any interest ever in being part of the Suicide Squad again.
  
  All of that for a failure.
  
  Team Adjudicator had not won the Sixth Labour. The cost had been atrocious and bloody beyond belief. Arguably, it had been worse than the Third Labour. That particular fiasco had been the fault of the Huntresses; here you couldn't blame anyone for it, save the architects of the slaughterhouse.
  
  There had been no way to win. Not with the twelve they had sent to near-certain doom.
  
  And in the case you were tempted to say 'it couldn't get worse', well there was Team Triumvirate to tell you that on that point, you were definitely wrong too.
  
  Nine dead. Two girls kidnapped, and Commodus had departed the Imperial Lodge five minutes ago, meaning they were soon going to be raped and changed into Nemean Lionesses, not necessarily in that order.
  
  And Medea...Medea's transformation had been so brutal that Drew and Jade had had to carry her in turn, because the Immortal Sorceress had not woken up yet.
  
  "All of this for false Golden Apples we won't ever use."
  
  "Never say, never." Her boyfriend snarked.
  
  "Don't tell me you've found a way to turn it against a Titan."
  
  "No, but I'm still searching," Perseus grimaced. "It's truly an unpleasant assessment that the Titan of Crafty Counsel did not earn the Domains of Malice, Calamity, and Catastrophes by mistake."
  
  Yes, and suddenly, Lou Ellen Blackstone very much had become an ardent supporter of the theory 'Prometheus tried to screw both sides during the Titanomachy'.
  
  "Whoever gets too close to him is rewarded by only ruin and despair."
  
  "Accurate."
  
  "The communication device?"
  
  "It's done."
  
  It was not hard to guess why Perseus had demanded she discreetly placed this tracker double of a phone onto the lieutenant of Mark Antony.
  
  "Good."
  
  "Can you reverse her transformation, for the sake of my curiosity?"
  
  "I have not had the time to study it, but probably not," the son of Poseidon shrugged. "Undoing certain animal curses is not exactly a specialty of mine in the first place, and I am going to hazard a guess this one has not been made to be easily reversible. Moreover, I don't even know who created this artefact in the first place. It's not your half-sister; she hates Centaurs too much for that."
  
  "True. She has the means, yes, but...she wouldn't do something like this."
  
  Circe had a lot of flaws. But she was a daughter of Hecate, and a protector of women. Transforming a woman into a female Centaur when there were thousands in the stands...it was just evil.
  
  "That doesn't explain why the Centaurs were so..."She honestly didn't find the words to complete the sentence.
  
  "So monstrous?" Perseus tried, earning himself a nod. "In this case, I think it's very simple. There have been only a handful of female Centaurs over the centuries. It was a cursed transformation that targeted only the males in the Age before the Mist, and no female Centaurs can be conceived the natural way."
  
  "Oh," and just with this realisation, the nightmare seemed to have no end. "You mean Medea is at the moment the only female Centaur in the world."
  
  "Yes, it is exactly what I believe. Thus the...particularly impolite and horrid behaviour of the spectators."
  
  Lou Ellen didn't turn her head to see what her boyfriend referred to. The Sixth Labour had been bad enough, thank you very much.
  
  "They want her, and not in a platonic way." This wasn't a question.
  
  Perseus sighed, and for a couple of seconds, the look in his eyes was very, very old.
  
  "I wondered how Commodus could possibly convince more Centaurs to volunteer to fight in the arena after the first group of 'reinforcements' was eliminated with extreme prejudice. Now, I know."
  
  Commodus had almost certainly promised that whichever Centaur participated in the elimination of the Suicide Squad would be able to 'have his way' with Medea.
  
  "The Narcissist Predator is truly irredeemable."
  
  "No argument there," the leader of the Suicide Squad clicked his fingers several times extremely fast. "Well, this was a disaster, but what is done is done. I have a far better measure of the assets that have been brought to kill us, and the Titan for whatever reason has revealed how he traps his victims."
  
  "Any idea what wait for us in the Seventh Labour?"
  
  "Some ideas, yes. To start with, the arena-handlers are going to within a few minutes, empty all the tainted liquid of the now very cursed 'Neo Hesperides Lake'."
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of Commodus
  
  Returning to a humanoid body always brought some moral comfort.
  
  Of course, Panther knew that she was no longer human. The more days passed, the more she embraced her true nature.
  
  Give it a few more weeks, and the former Lieutenant of the Hunt knew the last parts of her humanity would be utterly broken, discarded as if they mattered nothing.
  
  And once that happened, unfortunately, complete acceptance of her slavery wouldn't be long to come.
  
  Panther resisted. All the girls resisted it.
  
  But it was a completely unfair fight, with the magic of the ritual gnawing at their souls, memory after memory, deed after deed.
  
  The hatred of Commodus burned bright for the moment; this was the only positive thing for the day.
  
  The rest? It was monstrous crime after monstrous crime.
  
  Commodus had left her with nine other sisters, but he summoned the rest while he left.
  
  He wanted half of them to be here when he 'broke' the two new girls who had been caught into his latest trap.
  
  Panther hated him with a passion for it.
  
  Unfortunately, there was nothing to do but wait.
  
  Nothing to do but observe. Nothing to do but hope that this time, it wouldn't work.
  
  But since they had arrived to this island of narcissism, hope never lasted long.
  
  About thirty seconds after she had thought it, two new minds joined the telepathic gestalt link which connected all the Nemean Lionesses to another.
  
  Panther felt their horror as their minds broke under the transformation. She saw their eyes open, terrifyingly feline, to acknowledge that the fate of the New Thespiades had become theirs too.
  
  Eighteen had become twenty.
  
  The victories of Team Adjudicator during the Fourth and Fifth Labours seemed to have occurred an eternity ago.
  
  Commodus losing his temper, the ridiculous humiliations, the name of the 'Imperial Circus Plan'...all had felt like the comedy had begun, and soon their slavery chains would be broken.
  
  But the greater monster had come.
  
  Prometheus.
  
  Titan of Crafty Counsel.
  
  He had come, with a hoard of cursed artefacts, plenty of monsters which made you instinctively wary just with a glance, and everything had changed.
  
  He had come with twisted advice, and he had convinced Commodus to listen.
  
  Panther had been witness to how inventive and annoying Jackson could be.
  
  But she didn't know if the son of Poseidon could win against that kind of evil.
  
  "No need to give me that kind of fierce expression, young Lioness," the Titan faked a complaint as false as his character. "I am merely a messenger."
  
  Panther wished she could have told him to stop lying, but it was denied to her.
  
  Thus she continued to glare.
  
  She hated him. Panther hated the Titan for all the crimes he had committed. The former Huntresses wished to eat the entrails of the Titan. He deserved it alone for engineering the monstrous transformation of Iphigenia.
  
  "People these days have no humour," but the sardonic smile completely contradicted the words. "Let's see if the Seventh Labour will be able to change that."
  
  Panther shivered. This Titan was just evil incarnate.
  
  26 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  Apollo had to be honest: with Zeus back and in charge, the God of the Sun had thought there would be far more explosions and strikes of the Master Bolt.
  
  But there hadn't been. In fact, only two holographic screens had been pulverised so far, which was honestly kind of impressive, given how bad the Sixth Labour had turned out.
  
  Yes, it was rather good, and Apollo as such had decided to stay quiet; you counted your blessings, and all of that.
  
  But in every council or assembly, there was someone who disagreed with that. And today on Olympus, it was his little sister.
  
  "Perseus Jackson must be punished!"
  
  "For what?" Athena was the one to answer. "He sent a pretty good team in the arena. It isn't his fault the Titan planned things to achieve a bloodbath. And honestly in the end, if there had to be beings to be sacrificed, Spartacus and the Telekhines were definitely it. They have no political support anywhere."
  
  The few sentences were a reminder that yes, Athena could be incredibly cold when she wanted. Of course, the presence of Prometheus wasn't going to bring out the best of her, but here, her grey eyes were definitely frightening.
  
  This didn't stop his little sister to seethe, though.
  
  "He sacrificed one of my Huntresses too in the process, in case it escaped you!"
  
  "Did he?" Poseidon asked. "I had almost forgotten the artefact Prometheus used; I sincerely doubt my son or any mortal present in this Coliseum remembered its existence. And I certainly didn't see it coming. I think it would be a bit unfair to blame any Demigod for something that they weren't informed about...and that they hadn't any defence against, even if we gave them some warnings beforehand."
  
  This wasn't what Artemis wanted to hear, clearly.
  
  "You are letting him get away with this?"
  
  "Perseus Jackson," Aphrodite began lustfully from her place on Hephaestus' lap, "decided not to lead the team who participated in this Sixth Labour. You can criticise him for that, Huntress. But the moment he wasn't one of the twelve of Team Adjudicator, he couldn't intervene or salvage anything. Everyone here knows that."
  
  "He could have-"
  
  "We Gods were unable to intervene in this tragedy," the Goddess of Love didn't glare at his sister, but she wasn't far from it. "If you really think it was different for the Demigods, I advise you to re-read ten times the rules of the Adjudicator Challenge."
  
  "The Titan pushing your Huntress into the tentacles of the Dreaming One is a hard blow," Athena had yet to utter Prometheus' name, and if Apollo was willing to gamble, he would say the Goddess of Wisdom would not utter his name before the end of the Council. "But it is the Titan's fault, and arguably Commodus'; no one else is guilty for their crimes."
  
  "Indeed," Zeus finally reacted with a growl. "This Titan is perfidy incarnate. I should have listened to my dark brother and imprisoned it within a dedicated prison somewhere in the Underworld...but I wanted to punish him myself."
  
  "I take it another imprisonment is in order, then?" Hermes asked with a smile.
  
  Both Poseidon and Zeus groaned simultaneously, in a splendid display of brotherly unity. Yes, really.
  
  "Ordering the punishment of this Titan is not the problem," the God of the Seas spoke at the invitation of his brother. "Catching him, however, definitely is. The first time we made a serious effort to hunt him, it took several centuries to corner him and drag him back in chains to Olympus. Arguably, he's lost a lot of his Domains and power now, but his cunning and his viciousness have not diminished at all. For all his taunting in the lodge of Commodus, I have no doubt Prometheus has already over a dozen escape routes, most of them we have no clue about."
  
  "We are definitely going to try to arrest him, and this time, Hades will be in charge of making sure he never sees the light of day again," Demeter spoke, her face intimidating in the extreme, something helped by the large scythe in her right hand. "But it is going to take time. Time we may not have. Prometheus did not decide to reveal his presence today because he felt taunting us was something he desired."
  
  "Yes," Athena echoed. "He is leaving his cloak of anonymity behind because he is ready. He must have gathered monstrous allies behind his banner of strife. Commodus was only a useful tool to test the waters. Something worse is coming."
  
  It said a lot about how accurate all the Olympians considered the analysis of the Goddess that no one wished to continue the exchange for five entire minutes.
  
  In the end, it wasn't anything on Olympus that convinced someone to speak again; it was the changes to the arena which was located half a world away.
  
  "They're sending new monsters in the Maze." Hermes sighed. "And unless my eyes are failing me, there are twelve Laistrygonian Giants leading the horde."
  
  "Most of the Giants of this breed can't see in the dark, can they?" Poseidon frowned.
  
  "They can't," Athena confirmed. "But they have a hyper-evolved sense of smell. They will be able to track a Demigod ten kilometres away with their noses alone. Their ears also are far superior to those of mortals."
  
  "They are going to be the trackers," Apollo grimaced. "And we have what? Something like six hundred Centaurs joining up this murderous game."
  
  "Commodus has found one of the rare things that will make sure the rapists will ignore an army worth of fatalities." Artemis murmured. "Vile bastard."
  
  "His servants are replacing the H-30BR acid that was separating the Maze from the inner arena," Hephaestus told them. "I think they are throwing some sort of super-fertiliser, and though it's not my area of competence, seeds of carnivorous plants are going to follow."
  
  "I don't see really the point," the God of Speed admitted.
  
  "My son will be unable to participate in this Labour," the God of the Forges said aloud. "And the same thing will apply to the daughter of Hades. A lot of 'gladiators' who could unleash fire on a whim are not available anymore."
  
  "Damn. Commodus and his 'ally' are not playing around anymore."
  
  This was an extremely accurate realisation, Apollo acknowledged.
  
  The sums of efforts poured into this Coliseum were already significant for the Seventh Labour; when you added what the Sixth Labour had already demanded, it was just madness on a divine scale. Tens of millions of Drachma must have been thrown out of the windows, be it for the transport of monsters or the resources each 'trap' demanded.
  
  "The Suicide Squad better have an incredible good plan," Athena emotionlessly said, "for I see Commodus has been given more artefacts capable of inflicting animal transformations to the unfortunate souls which will be caught in them."
  
  Apollo wasn't going to disagree with her. Okay, for a God, this Labour was not that big a challenge, but for a mortal, it was murderously difficult.
  
  "Does anyone have any idea of what kind of Labour this one is modelled after? I must admit I am not an expert on them, but I genuinely don't have any idea what kind of reference the 'High Judge' is using."
  
  "I have no idea either," Hermes shook his head. "But this is not-"
  
  A thousand torches suddenly began to burn, creating a perfect circle of fire which marked the limit of the not-so-small arena at the heart of the Coliseum.
  
  It was a rather spectacular entrance, all told.
  
  It was an individual entrance too.
  
  The lake had been emptied, the arena returned to a more 'classic' mode, and there was only a single being in the centre of it.
  
  It was a woman.
  
  It was a woman armoured in the same Amazon-Hoplite Armour that had been delivered to both Teams before the Labours of the night began.
  
  There was a notable difference of equipment, though.
  
  She wore a belt.
  
  No, Apollo had to say the truth: she wore the Belt.
  
  "It is the first Girdle of the Amazons, it has been lost for centuries," Poseidon commented with evident surprise. "How did even Prometheus -"
  
  A spear appeared in the female warrior's hands.
  
  "There are only two types of warriors: the Amazons and their prey!"
  
  Apollo placed his head between his hands and groaned.
  
  "Oh no. They somehow found her."
  
  "It is possible they found an impostor," Artemis said unconvinced. "You would have to be crazy to-"
  
  "ALL MALES MUST BE CRUSHED UNDER MY FEET OR DIE!"
  
  Aphrodite snickered.
  
  "Yes, that's Otrera, all right. They've rejuvenated her somehow."
  
  "Err..."Hermes cleared his throat. "We're speaking of the First Queen of the Amazons, right?"
  
  "The first woman to ever wear the sacred Belt, yes," Apollo winced. "And at the risk of saying obvious, a truly bloodthirsty woman who held the title of Bride of Ares for a very long time. But I think that if she is on the other side today, her loyalty to my half-brother may be a bit in question."
  
  At least in her case, there weren't a lot of doubts about what Prometheus had promised her. Otrera lived to fight powerful opponents, including Demigods. A promise to fight the growing legends of the new Demigod generation was a lure she wouldn't resist.
  
  Apollo swallowed heavily.
  
  It was not going to be something pleasant to watch.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Richard had to admit, it was really funny to see someone else get betrayed. And Jackson had nothing to do with it, which was definitely a first.
  
  "OTRERA!" Ares roared, and despite being in his cage, the power was sufficient to make plenty of monsters and other spectators faint. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING SERVING MY ENEMIES?"
  
  "Isn't it evident?" the treacherous Queen of the Amazons laughed while opening her arms and raising her weapons to the sky. "I found a far better patron to serve. One who remembers I exist. One who isn't fleeing at the sight of challenging opponents. I am the First Queen of the Amazons! I am the ultimate female warrior! I deserve to crush males! I deserve to lead an army! And you...you can't offer me any of these things anymore."
  
  "You have betrayed me."
  
  "No, you betrayed me first! I won a thousand battles in your name, and I was only rewarded with your silence! Now I have vanquished tens of thousands of opponents, and I am promised the place that is mine by right!"
  
  "I WILL KILL YOU, YOU TREACHEROUS BITCH!"
  
  Fortunately for everyone, Commodus decided to cut the sound coming out of the divine cage-prison.
  
  It was probably the sole and only good thing the Narcissist Predator had done since they had entered the Coliseum after midnight.
  
  "Right," the Hoplite-armoured Amazon turned her eyes in direction of the platform where Team Adjudicator waited. "Now that this worthless God has been told the truth, hear me out. I was promised great foes to slay. Don't disappoint me! Fight your way through the Maze, and enter this arena. I am waiting for you!"
  
  "And at the risk of saying what must be incredibly evident to all," Commodus intervened, "the goal of this Seventh Labour is to recover the legendary Belt that Queen Otrera is wearing at the moment we're speaking. The methods employed are unimportant; recover the Belt and return to your entrance Gate before the deadline of two hours results in some unfortunate souls being trapped forever in the Maze."
  
  This was really bad. Okay, there was no Drakon hiding somewhere this time, but the monsters pouring into the Maze were far more numerous and stronger.
  
  Richard didn't have a clue of how it was possible to escape the myriad of dangers. It had already bad for the Lightning Thief, and the daughter of Hades had Spartacus as back-up...
  
  "The Interlude is over. The Seventh Labour will begin in five minutes." With the way Commodus was gloating, it was clear the Narcissist Predator was already salivating about the number of deaths it was going to cause. "Don't be late! Oh, and before I forget..."
  
  Scores after 6 Labours:
  
  Team Adjudicator effectives: 72
  
  Team Triumvirate effectives: 60
  
  Labours won by Team Adjudicator: 3.5
  
  Labours won by Team Triumvirate: 0.5
  
  The monstrous crowd exploded into cheers. Cheers then became insults. Insults were followed by support for the monsters of the Maze to spill an ocean worth of Demigod blood.
  
  "This promises to be amusing," Perseus Jackson noted, "but perhaps not in the way they hope."
  
  "Jackson, please tell us you have a plan." Elvis Knight pleaded.
  
  "I have a plan." The leader of the Suicide Squad clapped a single time in his hands. "Annabeth?"
  
  "I calculated it, yes. It isn't exactly complicated, after two hours of watching the Maze change."
  
  "Then it is decided." The grin returned, and the red eye shone malevolently. "We are going with Plan L."
  
  Richard wasn't familiar with that specific plan. But the way Bianca di Angelo cursed despite her exhaustion told him that for his peace of mind, maybe he was better off not knowing certain things.
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Really, Grant. You look like you are a bit suspicious."
  
  "The opposition is as strong as during the Sixth Labour, at least from what I can see. And I'm pretty sure the Narcissist and his ally have prepared quantities of new stratagems that can result in very painful deaths."
  
  "Oh, that was a given."
  
  The Lightning Thief groaned again.
  
  "Are you going to really go with it?"
  
  "My dear," the grin of the mad Demigod seemed to become wider and wider by the second, despite it being physically impossible. "It is important to respect the Rule of Three."
  
  The eyes turned quickly towards the daughter of Hecate by his side.
  
  "With your permission, of course, Lou Ellen."
  
  "I consent."
  
  Richard rolled his eyes as the sorceress shamelessly kissed the son of Poseidon.
  
  "The order of battle for the Seventh Labour?" Clarisse asked formally, trying and failing to not show her amusement.
  
  "I am descending in the arena, of course. The First Queen of the Amazons is an opponent that deserves all my respect."
  
  Oh yeah, that was incredibly bad...for Otrera. Seriously, the ex-Bride of Ares didn't know what she had just triggered.
  
  "Lou Ellen and Annabeth are going with me," the son of the Earthshaker continued with a far more deadly voice. "Colonel Ross! You have one minute to choose nine of our mercenaries to accompany me."
  
  This last decision raised plenty of eyebrows. Yeah, there had been six Telekhines participating in the previous Labours, but their sapper and other specialist skills had been essential to disarm an absurd number of traps. Yet Jackson wasn't even taking one today? Something was definitely different. And when you added the little issue of the defences guarding the entrance of the arena where Otrera waited, and the reality none of the mercenaries were armed with cyber-bows...
  
  "Are you sure, Jackson? This seems like a very risky gambit."
  
  "Doing non-risky things will lead us to a similar outcome as the Sixth Labour. We will bleed. Many members of Team Adjudicator will die. And unfortunately, given how badly Team Triumvirate is getting butchered, it is incredibly likely that within one or two Labours, Mark Antony will have no choice but to send his female members to the arena. This must not happen."
  
  "Well, you are the one who is going to lead them in the arena."
  
  "I know. Is Commodus laughing per chance?"
  
  "No." One glance was enough to be certain about that. "I think he has learned by now that you aren't bluffing."
  
  "Good," the Drakon Slayer nodded. "It's time to remind him that we have survived every Labour so far, and we will survive them again."
  
  26 January 2007, the Maze of the Seventh Labour
  
  It was far easier to locate another team when you could coordinate with it.
  
  That much had not been in doubt to Marcus Antonius, but of course, there had been the obvious problem of how to coordinate in the first place. The enemy had been very prudent in making sure they could only speak and touch each other in the arena, and of course the entrance gates were kilometres away from each other.
  
  But as trackers and phones had been hidden and then found, Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate could find each other.
  
  It was still difficult.
  
  Distances didn't disappear just because you wanted them to, and the Maze was filled with very hungry monsters.
  
  It took close to thirty minutes to see Perseus Jackson with his own eyes, and by then, the Captain of Team Triumvirate had lost two of his men.
  
  The other team wasn't unscathed either; it was only eleven members who were there to greet him. And since nothing was easy, Perseus Jackson was waiting for them by cleaning his cyber-sword, a weapon he had apparently used to slay a Laistrygonian Giant. The expression of surprise on the ugly face told clearly that the monster hadn't seen his death coming.
  
  "You have suffered a loss."
  
  "The poor man is still under the Giant," the Demigod replied with a smirk. "I told him to get out of the way, but for some reason, plenty of people always disobey me at first. Honestly, it's like they have a death wish."
  
  Perseus Jackson jumped from the Giant's corpse.
  
  "Do you agree to a truce?"
  
  "I do."
  
  It wasn't like they had a chance left of triumphing if they decided to fight against the Suicide Squad. The Labours being completely modified by the Titan Prometheus were just too difficult for mortals to survive while also fighting other enemies at the same time.
  
  "Good. It's time to win this Labour."
  
  "We have used one-quarter of the required time already," one of his Legionnaires pointed out.
  
  The son of Poseidon shrugged in a carefree manner.
  
  "During the last Labour, Bianca di Angelo tried a quick rush towards the arena. It clearly didn't work. I believe a change of tactics is necessary. And for this, I have two secret weapons."
  
  "Oh?"
  
  But the black-haired Demigod refused to say more, and began to run. Needless to say, the warriors of both teams followed the accelerated pace as fast as they could.
  
  The Second Augustus of the Triumvirate noticed quite early that contrary to his first thought, it was not the infuriating and mad son of the Seas who was giving the directions; it was the daughter of Athena.
  
  The remaining members of Team Adjudicators were merely there to provide the muscle, or in the case of the sorceress, the destructive spells to massacre the monsters.
  
  There was one minute and a few seconds of pursuit.
  
  Then the leading Demigoddess stopped without reason.
  
  It wasn't an alley without exit; and there weren't any monsters incoming.
  
  "It's here. I am sure of it."
  
  "Hmm...mark it. I need a few seconds to catch my breath."
  
  And to the consternation of plenty, the girl went on to grab a paint spray and draw a shiny red cross upon the wall in front of her.
  
  Had the Suicide Squad finally succumbed entirely to the madness?
  
  "You better provide an explanation for this, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "I thought it rather simple, oh, Marcus Antonius." The grin was demonic, and the armour now appeared as it had been painted orange before the Labours of the night started. "If we can't surprise our ignoble host and his patron, we are dead. The only question is how long it will take."
  
  "This is a pessimistic-"
  
  He just had the time to begin properly before being rudely interrupted.
  
  "Pessimistic nothing, it is the painful truth. We're up against the traps of a Titan who was playing that sort of games when my divine father wasn't even conceived. In one hundred contests, we lose one hundred times. We must change the game. Use Domains that the mighty Titan never understood, and as a result was never able to wield."
  
  "The Titan, if he is as clever as you think, will have taken contingencies against some of his greatest mistakes."
  
  "True," Perseus Jackson conceded. "But there's one point in his disfavour, one that Commodus was courteous enough to inform me of. They were short of time to build this Maze."
  
  "And how it is supposed to help us? Medea tested the solidity of these walls. I assure you they didn't exactly build anything with foundations of rubber or something equally ridiculous."
  
  "No, they didn't. On the other hand, they didn't have the time to test it against an enemy. Thus it is my pleasure to introduce them to the favourite Domain of the Goddess Athena, saint protector of this Great Quest: MATHEMATICS!"
  
  And the mad Demigod slammed the palm of his right hand against the red-painted cross of the wall.
  
  There was a massive shockwave.
  
  The earth rumbled.
  
  Fissures sprawled out.
  
  And the giant wall...a giant section of the wall where Perseus Jackson had struck fell away.
  
  "Fine, you may know-"
  
  Marcus Antonius stared, speechless.
  
  For the first wall had not just merely collapsed away from both teams and opened a new opening.
  
  It had fallen against a second wall, toppling it, and bringing a second massive collapse.
  
  A third followed.
  
  It was like watching this giant series of domino competitions where the goal was to bring a maximum of those little objects falling one after another.
  
  Except here, it was the giant walls of the Maze which fell one after another, burying hundreds, maybe thousands of monsters under the rubble and the destroyed walls.
  
  And as the last wall fell, suddenly, the carnivorous plants which filled the moat before the ultimate wall of the arena were revealed.
  
  Perseus Jackson had created for them a direct avenue to advance towards their objective, and by the way the Maze stopped moving, he certainly had broken important machinery in the process.
  
  The crazy young man cackled.
  
  "Yes, Mathematics are truly an incredibly dangerous weapon in the wrong...pardon me, the right hands."
  
  The daughter of Athena chose this moment to run in his arms, and kiss him on the lips in a manner that was certainly not innocent at all.
  
  "Err...my Lord?"
  
  "Yes, Centurion?"
  
  "I thought it was the other blonde who was his girlfriend? Did I miss something?" the aforementioned blonde sorceress, of course chose the moment to get close and kiss both on the lips while they were in a deep embrace. "Never mind."
  
  "Young love," Marcus Antonius drawled, looking upwards towards Isis, who gave him a serene smile. "Well, I acknowledge my error. The plan clearly worked, and the thirty minutes were indeed well-spent."
  
  The Captain of Team Adjudicator had clearly waited not just for him, but also for the daughter of Athena to find the coordinates which would allow them to play this unconventional domino-like game of utter destruction.
  
  "The monsters are coming, Caesar. Many were killed, but those who survived couldn't exactly miss this...this mathematical offensive."
  
  And unfortunately, it looked like the ones who survived outnumbered those who had been slaughtered.
  
  It was a horde of hatred, an army of fangs, claws, hooves, and many other beastly attributes that was coalescing between them and the arena where they had to collect the Belt of the Amazon Queen.
  
  "I certainly hope your second weapon is as potent as the first, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "It is not nice to doubt, Imperator!" the Demigod cackled again, temporarily abandoning the arms of his girlfriends and the kisses. "For I am blessed and cursed with glorious purpose! I am the Adjudicator of Love! And though the rules of this Challenge prevent me from experiencing the full power of the divine, there is nothing that can prevent me from letting my opponents to feel the full extent of it!"
  
  A sword was pointed at the enemy charging to kill them all, right as a pentacle of magic appeared under his feet.
  
  "I am Perseus Jackson, self-proclaimed Champion of Love!" the Lord of the Suicide Squad laughed. "Watch Goddess of Doves, for once again, an army marches against me! Yet I am a tide of Chaos which will bring down all of creation! Great are my sins, yet the time of Wrath hasn't come! LUST!"
  
  Pink lightning tore apart the reality.
  
  And the horde of monsters-
  
  The horde of monsters stopped.
  
  It stopped for only a second.
  
  Then a Laistrygonian Giant used his mace to splatter a couple of Centaurs, screaming his love for some Giantess.
  
  Each monster part of the horde soon turned against its neighbours, caught in the throes of ecstatic pleasure.
  
  The overwhelming assault was no more; now it was just madness incarnate, and the Centaurs and the other beasts were doing things that were absolutely prohibited in all civilised nations.
  
  "My Imperator?" one of his Legionnaires called him.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "We all respect you very much, and everything...but please, do not send us against Perseus Jackson again."
  
  Marcus Antonius did not let his eyes wander off the spectacle of unnatural behaviour that was happening several hundreds of metres away. But the words deserved an answer.
  
  "I think, Decurion, you might be far wiser than I ever was."
  
  26 January 2007, the Amazon Arena, Commodus Coliseum
  
  The carnivorous plants, frankly, were pretty much disappointing.
  
  Perseus had imagined at least seven tricks to get past them, but it seemed the hellfire of Lou Ellen was simply enough to burn them to cinders.
  
  "Annabeth. Lou Ellen. You need to guard our backs. Two Legionnaires of the Triumvirate will go with you."
  
  "I can help with the Amazon Queen!"
  
  Perseus smiled.
  
  Annabeth blushed.
  
  The taste of her lips on his had been amazing, of course. And if he had done it in his previous life, there was a distinct possibility he would have been too distracted to wage wars against the rest of Calernia. And no, this wasn't the curse of Lust speaking. Wait, he couldn't afford to be distracted right now. Future Perseus would have to deal with it.
  
  "I've no doubt you would give me a set of very dangerous options, and the same goes true for Lou Ellen. But I really need two competent Demigoddesses to watch our backs while we try to recover the Belt. During the previous Labour, our ignoble host didn't send any reinforcements because it was always part of his plan to usher the damnation of Iphigenia. This time, it was very much not part of his plan to let us get so far in a well-rested state. And it appears Commodus has realised that sending non-mechanical enemies is a bad idea against me. There's a small army of killer-automatons on the way; the dozens we dealt with were just the vanguard."
  
  "You will still need everyone you can to defeat Otrera." The daughter of Hecate gave him a very determined expression. "I know a trap when I see one, thank you very much."
  
  "It is a trap, and the First Queen of the Amazons being alone is supposed to make us overconfident." The sentence was said in a murmur, and with presenting his back to the sophisticated cameras so that they couldn't read on his lips.
  
  "In that case, wouldn't it be better if we try to convince the enemy it was successful?" The Second Augustus of the Triumvirate stepped forwards. "I will leave six of my Legionnaires with your rear-guard. They will hold until relieved."
  
  The former Tyrant thought about it for a moment. This was...acceptable. Lou Ellen and Annabeth were capable of handling that amount of soldiers if betrayal occurred, and if it did, well, there were contingencies ready to decapitate the Triumvirate before the Suicide Squad faced worse problems.
  
  "The suggestion is acceptable, but needs to be slightly amended. Four Legionnaires, and not a single more." The legacy of the Earthshaker added a few words in German that made the Roman pale extremely quickly. "Let's move!"
  
  The arena itself had not changed at all since they had left the 'waiting platform' over one hour ago.
  
  It was an arena, in the Latin sense of the word: the floor of the Coliseum had been covered in black sand.
  
  The heart of the Seventh Labour had been built to be vaguely oval-shaped.
  
  The circle of torches was perfectly circular, however.
  
  In the centre of it, the Amazon Queen waited for them.
  
  Perseus felt this reminded him of-
  
  Ah.
  
  So that was the trap. It was...rather impressive.
  
  The black-haired Demigod looked upwards. Nothing. The walls? No, they were bare, and an illusion couldn't last that long without a sorceress to power it.
  
  Under their feet? This was the only solution.
  
  It was rather clever, actually. It was just sand.
  
  Black sand.
  
  There was nothing magical about it; it hid your tracks perfectly, and no one was paying attention to it.
  
  "Are you going to wait there for one hour, Legionnaires and Demigods? I am getting dangerously bored."
  
  "Queen Otrera," Perseus bowed like he felt some respect for the dangerous butcher that had once been sworn to Ares, thinking furiously about the final phase of his plan. "It seems you have something we need to recover before leaving this arena. Since I am of course someone extremely polite, I offer you my eternal friendship in exchange of your Belt."
  
  "No." The First Queen of the Amazons replied immediately. "Seriously, son of Poseidon did you really think it was going to work?"
  
  "I lost nothing by trying," Perseus chose to adopt the behaviour of offended dignity. "Besides I'm sure that before the end of these Labours, someone will accept my eternal friendship!"
  
  "You're completely and utterly crazy," the former Bride of Ares retorted, speaking truly with all the sincerity she had in her heart.
  
  "You are a dangerous sociopath." Perseus tried a charming smile. "We all have our little flaws, no?"
  
  Otrera moved.
  
  Her reputation was not usurped; this was an incredible fast attack.
  
  One of the Triumvirate Legionnaire died before managing to raise his word in time, the cyber-spear piercing his throat and emerging from the back of his neck a second later.
  
  "What do you say, sworn gods of the War God? Aren't you tired to serve unworthy masters?"
  
  "I said," Perseus mused, "that my Rule extends to this arena. The Age of Heroes won't die today. I won't tolerate it. BEGONE!"
  
  It was all about convincing the Amazon Queen she couldn't win it the conventional way.
  
  The shockwave Perseus threw about, all things considered, was far more powerful than the one he had unleashed to trigger the collapse of the Maze's walls.
  
  Otrera, First Queen of the Amazons, was thrown away like a rag-doll, and went on to smash against the walls.
  
  Her helmet was going to end up as a total loss, but it had saved her life.
  
  She removed the thoroughly broken piece of armour, revealing hair between half-blonde and half-silver in colour. The eyes, however, were pure black.
  
  These were the eyes of something far more dangerous than War.
  
  "It is not too late to accept my eternal friendship, Queen Otrera."
  
  The Amazon spat blood on the black sand.
  
  "You think I am defeated, son of Poseidon?"
  
  "I think you are not strong enough to resist two more attacks like the one I hit you with."
  
  The Amazon Queen was strong, that much couldn't be said against her, but the strength she had been hit with had not been good for her health, to say the least.
  
  The former Tyrant went on to make a few swirls of his sword to showboat.
  
  "What will it be, your Majesty? My eternal friendship first, or your Royal Belt?"
  
  Perseus didn't know the woman. But he knew when someone was about to take a terrible decision from which there was no return possible.
  
  For Otrera, First Queen of the Amazons, this moment had clearly arrived.
  
  "I choose your deaths! I choose to deny War! I choose a world where I stand above all predators, be they monsters or no! SIRE! I accept the gift you wish to change my body with!"
  
  The black sand was thrown away, revealing the dark glyphs which had been hidden under it.
  
  The same ancient glyphs, in fact, that Perseus and many members had seen in the Forge of Perils when Nocturna was truly born.
  
  The air became colder.
  
  The same horrible power which had been conjured before was coming.
  
  "Did you see it coming, son of Poseidon?" Otrera laughed. "Now, oath-breakers of War, know that the same power can be yours! Turn against Ares, and you will be given more power and loot than in your wildest dreams!"
  
  Naturally, the cyber-swords and the cyber-axes of the mercenaries promptly decided to change their allegiance. The butchers of Ares had turned against him.
  
  "Did you see it coming, son of Poseidon?"
  
  "Of course, I did." Perseus said truthfully. "And I must say I am not impressed."
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of Commodus
  
  It was that power.
  
  Dionysus wouldn't have believed if he wasn't here to feel it.
  
  Damn it. Had Prometheus and his accomplices learned nothing in the last millennia?
  
  They had just lost all their wits.
  
  There were a million good reasons why no one had dared using that power! The Olympian Council was not that wise, but even in the most desperate situations, no God or Goddess had asked to unlock the protections of that place in order to unleash the madness.
  
  There were fates that shouldn't be thought about, never mind spoken aloud!
  
  Dionysus was the Jailor of that power. It was a very grim duty, and he could only do it because he was the God of Madness.
  
  Yet there had always been embers of it that had not been taken away. And it seemed some had been stolen.
  
  "Did you see it coming, son of Poseidon?"
  
  "Of course, I did." The son of Poseidon replied with a large grin. "And I must say I am not impressed."
  
  Most of the mercenaries whose allegiance had gone to Ares looked puzzled.
  
  It didn't last long.
  
  Just the time for Mark Antony and the Legionnaires who had accompanied him to stab them literally in the backs.
  
  The brutes tried to pivot and face their new opponents, but it was too late. In less than five seconds, the eight traitors were slain.
  
  Perseus Jackson had not even bothered swinging his sword once.
  
  "What a disappointment," the Demigod who was looking more and more like a High Priest of his cult, "I seriously hoped this would be a betrayal worthy of my legend, but this was rather pathetic. Honestly, Queen Otrera. Did you really think that I, a master of over-complicated plots and schemes, was going to fall for something so evident?"
  
  "This is not over!" The First Queen snarled back, confirming that yes, she had hoped it would work. "The power of the Sire is coming! You can feel its presence! Soon, I will be more powerful than ever, and you will be dead!"
  
  "No, it won't. Blood of the betrayer, wash the sins of the oath you swore so recklessly!"
  
  The corpses of the mercenaries which had once been pledged to Ares exploded in cascades of gore.
  
  In a couple of seconds, it became a red layer that was spreading all over the arena.
  
  And to Dionysus' pleasure, wherever the blood flowed, the dark glyphs which had been intended to usher that power dimmed before flickering out entirely.
  
  "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Otrera screamed aghast.
  
  "I have prevented one betrayer from gaining power that should never have been hers by using the blood of other traitors. Come on. Did you think that I chose these would-be traitors by mistake when your reputation as the Bride of Ares preceded you?"
  
  Up above the arena, Dionysus heard Ares' approving laugher.
  
  "You have no idea what I sacrificed," Otrera hissed. "I passed many harsh trials in the first place to stand here-"
  
  "I don't really care," Perseus interrupted her. "You tried to kill me; you needed to reap the consequences of your actions. And speaking of the consequences...it seems the first part of my great plan is at last ready."
  
  For sure, the entire arena within the circle of torches had been covered by the crimson layer.
  
  Perseus Jackson violently stabbed the bloodied floor with his sword, and raised his arms over his head in a parody of divine supplication.
  
  "TEAM ADJUDICATOR IS MINE!" the lone red-eye of the male Demigod seemed to be engulfed by madness, while the roar resonated in a deathly silent Coliseum. "THOSE WHO DENY IT ARE MY ENEMIES! IN BETRAYAL I THRIVE! IN UNITY, I DIVIDE! NOW REVEAL YOURSELF! ARCHITECT OF FELL PROPHECIES! SIRE OF THE DRAKONS! REND!"
  
  Reality was severed.
  
  The world screamed.
  
  The Coliseum shook to its foundations.
  
  Whatever fissures had been created by the walls falling minutes ago, there were nothing to the cataclysm inflicted now; several structures indeed were utterly demolished by the power wielded by Perseus Jackson.
  
  But none of it mattered.
  
  None of it mattered, for at this point, the crimson veil had been torn up.
  
  It wasn't showing up the sands or blood anymore.
  
  It was a showing a familiar landscape to everyone with the eyes to see.
  
  It was showing the ruins of Arcadia, the ancient Domain of Pan.
  
  This would have already been bad, but there was worse.
  
  In the middle of the ruins, surrounded by vegetation which had overwhelming most traces of civilisation, an immense monster had opened its maw in stupefaction.
  
  Its size was just bewildering.
  
  The Primordial Drakon had reached a colossal size, but this was nothing compared to this one.
  
  As Apollo would say if he was here, it was a Kaiju.
  
  A King of Monsters above all monsters.
  
  Unfortunately, Dionysus recognised it.
  
  How could one forget the nemesis of his half-brother?
  
  "Python."
  
  "I return you the question of your servant, Sire..." the words of Perseus Jackson couldn't be missed by the entire Coliseum, and many more beings watching the spectacle. "Did you see it coming?"
  
  The thunderous hiss, the God of Wine supposed, was an answer that made him very glad he had never learned to speak the languages of snakes...
  
  26 January 2007, the Amazon Arena, Commodus Coliseum
  
  There was a proverb in the city of Atlantis that advised you not to sell the Megalodon carcass before you had killed it for good.
  
  Perseus felt it definitely applied.
  
  Of course, the former Tyrant had known the Sire of the Drakons was going to be a powerful and very large beast. Drakons only respected might, and Fimbulvetr had been an apex predator even by the dangerous standards of its species.
  
  There was no denying he had known these facts.
  
  On the other hand, Perseus knew that there was knowing it, and having the truth smash you in the face.
  
  The Sire of the Drakons was beyond gigantic.
  
  Estimating its proper size was not really possible, for the blood vision just created did not reveal anything, but at a guess, the length of the monster was superior to the height of the tallest of Manhattan's skyscrapers.
  
  It was a God-Beast, in the most horrifying sense of it.
  
  With its tail, the Sire could wipe an entire city without really trying.
  
  With its maw, a Legion could be swallowed and removed from existence.
  
  But this was nothing compared to the incredible intelligence shining in the serpentine irises.
  
  Fimbulvetr had some cunning, but it had been a battering ram of destruction; apocalypse in ice and cold.
  
  The Sire was anything but that.
  
  "I should have sent my agents to prevent the son of Hades from finding a certain book in the Library of New Byzantium." The hiss was thunderous and filled with displeasure. "Though I was under the impression Nocturna had burned it under my orders."
  
  "She did." Perseus admitted. "I had to spend a few thousand Drachmas and use a few favours to purchase a copy which was safely away on Olympus."
  
  "Very resourceful," the Kaiju-sized snake answered. "How?"
  
  "It is a known law that Gods can't hide in the Domain of other Gods without their permission, and it was evidence itself that none of the Olympians would be so stupid as to give it to you. That left dead Gods."
  
  "Indeed," the giant monster emitted a sound that could have been the equivalent of a small laugh. "It was one of my most brilliant ideas. A pity that it has to end, this hideout was really useful. But it is not too bad. I got everything I wanted from it. I presume you know who I am, son of Poseidon?"
  
  "You are Python." The Lord of the Suicide Squad said with iron-clad certainty. "Child of the Earth Mother. The Great Serpent. The First of the New Drakons. The One Who Was Once Oracle of the Earth. Alpha of the Snakes. And Nemesis to Apollo."
  
  "Yes," the Sire of the Drakons hissed, looking very pleased...or at least as pleased as a serpent could look like. "I am all of that, and more."
  
  There was a shiver which almost disrupted the blood vision. A long tongue that seemed to be infinite came out and 'tasted' the air.
  
  "The Olympians are on their way." Python told him. "As such, I am afraid this fascinating conversation will have to continue another time. Otrera!"
  
  "Sire," the First Queen of the Amazons prostrated herself on the crimson-covered sand. "Forgive me, my failure is inexcusable-"
  
  "Yes, it is," the Sire of the Drakons replied mercilessly. "You listened to Commodus and Prometheus far too much. When I told you to be incredibly careful of the son of Poseidon, these were not words I delivered carelessly. Nocturna succeeded because she was prudent. You were not."
  
  "I...I have no excuses..."
  
  "No, you haven't. Fortunately, I lack the time to properly punish you." Python emitted a long hiss. "I suppose I will have to leave it to Prometheus, as annoying as it is. You hear me, Titan?"
  
  "Perfectly, oh Sire," one didn't need to be particularly suspicious to hear the sarcasm in the Titan's voice.
  
  There was one more frustrated serpentine hiss.
  
  "I acknowledge my defeat in this battle, Perseus Jackson," the monstrous eyes turned back to glare at him. "But I am Python, Oracle of the Coalition. What I lose in a battle, I will recover in the war to come. I am the Sire of the Drakons. And I will have my revenge, in this Age or the one to come!"
  
  The blood vision fractured, and reality began to rebuild itself.
  
  Long before the ritual of blood faded, though, Python had long disappeared.
  
  26 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  This was a nightmare.
  
  Python. Python had returned, as powerful as the giant snake had been in ancient days, and Apollo had not noticed the clues before it was far too late.
  
  This was just one gigantic catastrophe.
  
  It was his fault.
  
  He should have known.
  
  Well, to be accurate, his genitor had blamed him and Artemis before rushing to Arcadia.
  
  Which was why and his sister were there, in a deserted Council Room, while the rest of the Olympians were busy hunting Python.
  
  "I screwed up," the God of the Sun sighed while emptying an entire bottle of rum.
  
  "Yes, you did."
  
  "Thank you, sister, for your kind words."
  
  "You did not take your duties seriously!"
  
  "I suppose it is true," he confessed. "Though how I could I have protected the Domain of Prophecies when my nemesis can cancel them merely by returning on this world, I haven't the faintest idea. I am the Sun, but I can't watch over the entire world and find out the location of my enemies."
  
  It was a pity; his life would be far easier if he could.
  
  "Don't try to find excuses for your failures. And rest assured Father will punish you tremendously for this disaster."
  
  Apollo did not smash his head against one of the walls, but the urge was there. There was a multitude of reasons why he rarely mentioned he had a sister when he partied in the night-clubs of the East Coast, and the God of Music was sure the mortals could guess a few of them within a couple of seconds.
  
  "I will accept my punishment."
  
  It wasn't like he could do something else, after all.
  
  "What is happening in the Coliseum?" The words escaped his mouth before he truly thought about them. "Oh. It looks as if Prometheus has only grown more vicious in the last centuries..."
  
  26 January 2007, the Amazon Arena, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  There was no time to scream 'victory' or anything else.
  
  There was an order commanding them to get out of the circle, one Marcus Antonius and all his Legionnaires obeyed immediately.
  
  It was just in time, for a sort of ancient amphora came out of nowhere to levitate above in the centre of the circle marked by the torches.
  
  Then the magic abruptly ceased.
  
  The amphora suddenly obeyed the laws of gravity again and smashed against the floor, breaking in many parts.
  
  "Please tell me it wasn't something associated with Pandora," the former Magister Equites urged his ally.
  
  "It is not something associated with Pandora," Perseus Jackson replied while biting his lower lip. "I think."
  
  Whatever it was, it seemed to act the same way it had cursed Medea. The surroundings seemed to melt and become covered in a black-oily substance.
  
  Fortunately, it stopped wherever the torches were located. As such, all survivors of his Team were out of the reach of this curse.
  
  But Otrera wasn't.
  
  The First Queen of the Amazons, it had to be recognised, was no coward.
  
  The fear in her eyes was obvious, but she didn't wait the end prostrated or on her knees.
  
  She fought.
  
  Spear in hand, the former Bride of Ares tried to keep the oily cursed liquid at bay, right as the air around her carried her doom.
  
  For a few seconds, it looked like she had a chance.
  
  But it lasted only for a few seconds.
  
  The curse soon broke her resistance, and her spear was thrown half-way across the arena, out of her reach.
  
  Marcus grimaced at the spectacle. Otrera was an enemy, and not one he had much respect for.
  
  But there was something about killing your enemy by the sword...and that.
  
  Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do but wait.
  
  Wait as the First Queen of the Amazons was transformed far more than the Immortal Sorceress had been in the previous Labour.
  
  The Curse broke the Cyber-Armour.
  
  The hands were transformed into claws. The feet tore apart the armoured boots to turn into something far more fit for an animal.
  
  When the spotted fur began to grow, the Second Augustus of the Triumvirate thought 'leopard'.
  
  But it was not one of these felines.
  
  The tail was too snake-like.
  
  The neck was far too long. The fangs were too strange. The shape of the limbs was familiar, but twisted.
  
  It was as if the Titan had created a leopard, but with snake characteristics.
  
  It was-
  
  "Serpopard," the son of Poseidon murmured. "But this isn't right, this monster never really existed in Egypt..."
  
  "One should never say 'never'," Prometheus chuckled in the distance. "I believe that takes care of the punishment."
  
  The Belt of the Amazon Queen fell on the bloodied floor. It felt like damnation and the weight of something more terrifying at once.
  
  Worse, they could all see it in the Amazon's eyes. The realisation settling in, the horror at what her body had become, the loss of control; all of it struck at once.
  
  Otrera had bargained with evil beings, and evil had bitten back when she didn't deliver what they wanted.
  
  "Come to me, Otrera. I feel like I am ready to have a new pet."
  
  It was clear the Amazon warrior wanted to resist, but much like the virgins who had been changed into Nemean Lionesses, her body betrayed her. The newly-transformed Serpopard meowed and ran away, in direction of the Imperial Lodge.
  
  "I'm really beginning to hate the 'allies' Commodus found for these Labours."
  
  "You're not the only one." Perseus Jackson replied just as bluntly. "The jokes aren't funny at all, and their sense of cruelty begins to really put me in a sour mood."
  
  This was, to be honest, a fairly polite answer given what Prometheus had done since midnight.
  
  "Anyway. I believe I have at least found something that is going to infuriate them."
  
  "The infamous Girdle of the Amazons?" Marcus Antonius blinked. "What of it?"
  
  "I read a few things about it," the son of Poseidon's grin made its triumphant return, "and if they can be trusted, plenty of jewels on it are what gives it its magical powers. Plus to repair it, certain parts, in addition to the priceless stones, can indeed be removed."
  
  Some ignorant spokesmen said vengeance could not be sweet.
  
  They knew absolutely nothing about how the world worked.
  
  "Are you proposing a new shared victory?"
  
  "Yes, Imperator, that's exactly what I am suggesting."
  
  Marcus Antonius laughed.
  
  "Accepted!"
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of Commodus
  
  Panther wasn't sure about many things, but she was certain about at least one fact: this last day of Labours was a slaughterhouse.
  
  Scores after 7 Labours:
  
  Team Adjudicator effectives: 63
  
  Team Triumvirate effectives: 57
  
  Labours won by Team Adjudicator: 4
  
  Labours won by Team Triumvirate: 1
  
  Fifteen dead, one missing in action for Team Adjudicator. Twelve dead, two girls transformed into Nemean Lionesses, and their Immortal Sorceress transformed in a female Centaur for Team Triumvirate.
  
  On the opposite side, the monsters had endured losses that had largely broken the ten thousand mark, and included Laistrygonian Giants, hundreds of Centaurs, thousands of automatons, and plenty of other redoubtable opponents.
  
  It was a slaughterhouse.
  
  And the sheer violence spreading over the Coliseum was incredible.
  
  It was incredibly dangerous, that is.
  
  If she, a Huntress turned into a Nemean Lioness, could feel threatened by it, it was a guarantee this was going to explode sooner or later.
  
  Deep in her thoughts, Panther Kowalski shivered.
  
  Her eyes fell upon their new 'companion of misfortune'.
  
  Panther didn't like Otrera at all.
  
  The Amazon Queen had been loud, brash, and insulting. She had laughed when seeing them for the first time, like she had not understood that they were all girls, and that if it could happen to Panther and her sisters, it could happen to her too.
  
  But looking in her terrified eyes, watching her being leashed like an animal to the seat-throne of Prometheus...Panther could honestly say it brought little joy.
  
  It was just one confirmation Prometheus and Commodus were exactly the same, only one was a Titan and the other was born mortal.
  
  Otherwise, under the skin, they were exactly equals in vileness.
  
  But for all of this new defilement, there was good news too.
  
  The plan of Prometheus for this Labour had utterly failed. Perseus Jackson had overthrown the obstacles and broken the game again. Hope was not as dead as she had feared.
  
  And Commodus was now very, very angry. An anger, to her pleasure, that was now mixed with fear.
  
  "YOU TOLD ME THIS LABOUR WOULD GRANT US A FLAWLESS VICTORY!"
  
  The roar failed to bring out of a strong reaction from the Titan of Crafty Counsel.
  
  "Oh, Neo Hercules. It can hardly be my plan which was flawed. I relied on the sound advice of the Sire of the Drakons. How could I think for a single second that Perseus Jackson would do something so unpredictable?"
  
  "IT IS EXACTLY BECAUSE HE IS UNPREDICTABLE I WANTED YOUR ADVICE!"
  
  "My advice was sound. The mercenaries of Ares were bribed indirectly and not by me, as per the plan," Prometheus faked a tear. "Clearly they talked too much behind the scenes, or roused the suspicions of the son of Poseidon. As for the 'mathematics problem', I think it's seriously something that must be blamed on the workforce, not me."
  
  "THE WORKFORCE WAS HIRED ON YOUR SUGGESTIONS!"
  
  "Absurd," the denial came promptly. "It was your signature on all the contacts."
  
  Panther and her sisters had no weapons save the one granted by their half-feline bodies. They were utterly naked in front of hundreds of thousands of monsters. They were enslaved by a Narcissist Predator. Their bodies betrayed them with every breath they took, they couldn't speak unless given command, and hour after hour, the ritual ensured their minds and souls became something alien.
  
  All of that was true.
  
  Yet at the moment, Panther and her nineteen sisters felt far more powerful than they'd ever been.
  
  Watching Commodus throw a tantrum like a five-year-old child was not the goal of today, but it sure as the Pit of Tartarus was incredibly satisfying.
  
  "There is no need to shout so loudly that your adoring public is able to hear every word," Prometheus tried to 'appease' in a very condescending manner. "The situation has met an unplanned setback, but there are five Labours left."
  
  "FIVE LABOURS WHERE JACKSON CAN AND WILL TRY TO RUIN EVERYTHING!"
  
  "I rather doubt it."
  
  "And what, precisely, gives you such confidence?" the anger of 'Neo Hercules' had not abated in the slightest, but the argument the public could listen to the conversation seemed to have been acknowledged.
  
  "To begin with," the Titan conjured a screen before his throne, "the energy reserves of his Cyber-Armour were at three percent when he and his two paramours returned to their seats. This Seventh Labour was an excellent example how mortal inventiveness can beat a superior force and my traps, I will admit. But all of these successes came at a price. Both Teams still lost close to two hours, and fought many hard skirmishes on their way back. Neither the Triumvirate nor Team Adjudicator lost anyone in the process, but it is clear that save the Captains, exhaustion is everywhere."
  
  "You may have a point, but they have replacements ready for the next Labour!"
  
  "Not that many," the Titan disagreed in a voice that was as soft as syrup. "Some Cyber-Armours from the Sixth Labour have had their reserves refilled, but the ones who survived are not in a state to return to the Maze. And their effectives have massively decreased tonight. Marcus Antonius, if he wants to avoid giving you more Thespiades, can only rely on a shrinking number of Legionnaires that are particularly unsuited for gladiatorial combat inside the Maze. As for Team Adjudicator, they still have some powerhouses, but without Perseus Jackson, they represent a manageable danger."
  
  To Panther's inner displeasure, Commodus' arrogance began to return.
  
  "Yes. Yes, you are right. The Sorceresses are tired from their ordeals. They have lost Spartacus. Two of the new Champions of the Hell Queens have already participated. And even these awful penguins won't be able to do anything against the stars of the Eighth Labour!"
  
  "I am so glad you rally to your my point of view, Commodus." The Nemean Lioness saw the fire-coloured flashed in the immortal eyes, though.
  
  Prometheus had clearly been insulted in public, and he hadn't liked it at all. He would hold a grudge against his 'protégé' from that moment and Crafty Counsel was indeed a weapon which could topple kingdoms and islands.
  
  "I'm sending the workers to repair the Maze. And for everyone sake," many Praetorians flinched in fear, "I sincerely hope there won't be any more unplanned surprises!"
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  It had been a hell of a fight, but despite the fatigue in every muscle and part of her body, Annabeth felt really happy when returning to the Entrance Platform.
  
  Even the fact her clothes had suffered a lot of damage, courtesy of some monsters, and the replacements provided by Commodus being indecent, had not been enough to remove her good mood.
  
  "So," Ethan Nakamura intercepted before she could return to her seat. "You and Jackson?"
  
  Annabeth was long past blushing at that point.
  
  "I've decided that since we may die at any hour in the Great Quest, I'm not going to let my prejudices get in the way. If I'm old enough to participate in a murderous game, I'm old enough to try my luck with boys. And if it doesn't work with Jackson, we will break up. I received permission from Lou Ellen to kiss; I am not asking for a marriage."
  
  Then the blonde Demigoddess blinked, realising it was Ethan Nakamura who was asking.
  
  "It's Luke who bribed you, right? Send a neutral and 'concerned' party to see if I wasn't under some form of Charm-song?"
  
  "He did," the son of Nemesis shamelessly admitted.
  
  "I didn't take you for the kind of Demigod to exchange a few Drachmas for an eternity of torment."
  
  "I'm not," the grim Demigod gave her a genuine smile. "He promised to do all my chores aboard the Inevitable Doom should we both happen to survive today."
  
  "Oh," Annabeth thought about it for a couple of seconds. "Okay, I have to admit it's a really good exchange."
  
  The glare she sent in direction of certain males of the Suicide Squad revealed her true feelings, though.
  
  "But if Luke or any other boy is unhappy about who I kiss or want to lose my virginity with," Annabeth Chase channelled her inner warrior, making her feelings incredibly obvious, "he better say it in person, and be ready for the consequences. I am my own person, and if they are displeased, they can go to Hell and begin digging."
  
  Ethan murmured something about the quiet and smart ones always hiding something. Annabeth feigned to not have heard it.
  
  "Anyway. What happened while I was in the changing room? Commodus finally killed himself and spared us the effort to go after him?"
  
  It wasn't going to happen, but one girl could dream, right?
  
  "Not exactly," Ethan drawled. "The High Judge had a huge and public spat with his Titan benefactor, and for a few seconds, I really thought they were going to begin fighting each other."
  
  "What stopped it?"
  
  "The Titan alas had the idea to point out that yes, your trio successfully got out alive, but most of you are utterly unable to fight another Labour so soon after another. The energy reserves of your armour are also depleted, and of course we lost more teammates in two Labours than in the five of the other days."
  
  "Attrition," Annabeth had the urge to curse. "If everything else fails, he wants to rely on attrition."
  
  That Ethan didn't raise his voice to tell her otherwise, meant she was right.
  
  "I can't say it pleases me to hear that," the blonde Demigoddess declared truthfully. "Could it work for them?"
  
  Ethan winced.
  
  "We began this series of twelve Labours with one hundred members, and twenty-two were Telekhines. We were given seventeen Huntresses and thirty-three mercenaries as reinforcements. Now we're down to sixty-three. Ten Huntresses out of the seventeen were captured. The Sixth Labour cost us five of the twenty-two Telekhines. Twenty mercenaries sworn to Ares are gone, and since we chose to select them randomly, I think it is fair to say we can't trust the thirteen survivors either."
  
  About twenty metres away, the aforementioned war dogs glared silently at them.
  
  "In conclusion, the reinforcements and our Telekhine allies will be a spent force this Labour or the next at the very latest, and then it's the Suicide Squad alone. We can't afford to send the Huntresses unless things are really desperate, since we've seen so far any who are sent to the arena don't tend to return."
  
  It was up to the Suicide Squad to win, then. One couldn't say it changed a lot from the rest of the Great Quest.
  
  And there still had some powerhouses. Miranda Gardiner had the ability to control sand, and there was a lot of it in the Maze, after this last Labour. Clarisse had been left idle for all the Labours; the daughter of Ares would love some action.
  
  To be honest, it was far more troubling than the entire Maze had been engulfed by an obscuring spell.
  
  Annabeth knew the workers were going to have to do some repair, but nevertheless, it wasn't a good sign at all.
  
  What kind of evil revelation was going to await them? It had already been bad enough for this Labour, and it was the one of the Amazon Belt!
  
  "Enough thinking for you!" Lou Ellen appeared to have teleported by her side, or at least she had arrived so fast the daughter of Athena had not noticed her presence until now. "You need some relaxation, Annabeth."
  
  "You mean some embrace and kissing?"
  
  "Your words, not mine!" the daughter of Hecate pressed her lips against hers, and Annabeth had to admit, her worries suddenly were banished far, far away. "I do not-"
  
  "I didn't just give permission for Perseus, you know." Lou Ellen Blackstone's eyes shone with gleaming satisfaction. "We worked incredibly well as a trio. It would be a shame to break this nice arrangement, no?"
  
  "Plan L for Love," the daughter of Annabeth huffed. "I should have known."
  
  "Madness and Love," the 'sorceress lieutenant' joked, "will win the day for the Suicide Squad!"
  
  And Annabeth let herself be walked to her seat on the left side of Perseus Jackson.
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of Commodus
  
  "This is something that is going to leave a lot of skulls behind," Antaeus pointed out.
  
  "Already thinking some use for them?" his fellow Referee asked with genuine curiosity.
  
  "Gods, no," the red-skinned son of Poseidon shook his head quickly. "I am not a kill-stealer. I use the skulls of the people I kill myself. It's disrespectful to take the work of others."
  
  Besides, his dear sister may not appreciate the move at all.
  
  "I was just wondering what they're going to do with all the corpses."
  
  "In all likelihood, the big fishes of the Sea of Monsters are going to be well-fed tonight." The God of Wine mused after a heartbeat of hesitation. "You're not asking why the monsters don't disintegrate in golden dust anymore?"
  
  "I was here the first time," Antaeus rolled his eyes. "When even the slightest attention of the Primordials is focused on one location in particular, the Mist can still tamper with mortal minds, but the blood and the bones don't disappear as they should. And it gets worse if there are Titans or Gigantes nearby."
  
  Since they shared the Imperial Lodge with a Titan, there was nothing that could be called a surprise.
  
  "And the method by which that many girls stayed virgins?"
  
  Fine, this was definitely the Olympian testing him.
  
  "I suppose an Aversion Curse was prepared for the Ludi. That way, each time one of the girls considered the matter, she immediately was washed over by a tide of disgust. No matter how strong the spirit, it's difficult to think of pleasurable stuff when the very idea is repugnant."
  
  Antaeus paused.
  
  "It may have been more necessary for the girls of Team Triumvirate, obviously. Knowing the reputation of the Huntresses, I'm not sure they really needed an Aversion Curse to reject the idea."
  
  "Fair answer," the Olympian nodded, and they waited for Commodus to speak up again, since the veil of obscurity had dropped, the repairs applied to the Maze clearly being over.
  
  The two Referees, and the rest of the spectators with them, didn't have to wait very long.
  
  Commodus abandoned his throne, and advanced to address his not-so-adoring public.
  
  "HERE IS THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! THE EIGHTH LABOUR!"
  
  To Antaeus' pleasure, there was a minority of booing rising up from some parts of the public. There was still some cheering, in majority coming from the endless ranks of the Centaur tribes, but there was certainly a feeling of uneasiness.
  
  The audience in the Sea of Monsters had been promised a one-sided slaughter; it couldn't escape them that for now, the massacre was indeed happening, but not unilaterally.
  
  "I HAVE WONDERED LONG AND HARD HOW ABOUT TO TRAMPLE THE PRIDE OF THE OLYMPIANS!"
  
  Antaeus sighed and let Commodus ramble on his greatness and his supposed 'superiority'.
  
  Instead, the son of Poseidon examined the Maze.
  
  For now, it didn't seem anything had changed.
  
  The killer-automatons provided by Prometheus and destroyed by his brother had been replaced, and some additional monsters had been added. There was a small group of Centaurs ready to pour into the dark labyrinth the moment the Gates were opened.
  
  But aside from that, the number of threats one could see was significantly on the decrease.
  
  Detail that was important, there was nothing separating the Maze from the Inner Arena this time. It was not a good sign. The last time, it had been carnivorous plants. The one time before that, cascades of acid to hide one bloody huge thing looking like a Drakon.
  
  What sort of vicious game had the Titan and his Narcissist protégé prepared for this Labour?
  
  "THE PREVIOUS LABOURS GAVE YOU THE GLADIATORS DESESPERATELY TRYING TO REACH THE HEART OF THE MAZE FOR YOUR PLEASURE!"
  
  A musical cacophony exploded in answer.
  
  But it was not just what happened.
  
  The arena in the heart of the Maze was moving. The recently bloodied floor, which had lost all its sands and the dark glyphs, was shifting to reveal a secret tunnel.
  
  The Coliseum machinery had created a new entrance where no one expected to see one.
  
  "BUT THIS TIME!" The Nemean Lion-addicted Emperor roared. "THIS TIME THEY WON'T HAVE TO GO VERY FAR TO CONFRONT THE STARS OF THE EIGHTH LABOUR! THE MOMENT I WILL GIVE THE ORDER, THEY WILL LEAVE THE ARENA AND CHARGE INTO THE MAZE! BEHOLD! THE SUN MAMMOTHS!"
  
  The competition so far had not been exactly scarce on huge beasts.
  
  Antaeus was sure no one would deny that, at least.
  
  But the pachyderms which went out of the tunnel...they were assuredly 'not small'.
  
  They were far bigger than any elephant.
  
  They were furless, which was to be expected, given how warm the weather was under these latitudes.
  
  And suddenly, Antaeus acknowledged he had missed something in his studies of the Maze: the space between the walls had been significantly enlarged.
  
  The son of Poseidon had thought it was a counter-measure to prevent Perseus from collapsing them again, but it seemed there was more to it.
  
  "They have big tusks, these animals," Dionysus reacted with a yawn.
  
  "I am more concerned about the people they transport upon their backs," Antaeus retorted. "These guys are literally smiling like they have been given a great honour. If it was the first Labour of the day, I would understand, but it isn't the case. After what Perseus did, no one should smile like that...unless they were drugged, at any rate."
  
  "They aren't drugged," the God of Madness affirmed. "They aren't...but both the Mammoths and their handlers have collars around their necks."
  
  "Yes. What is their purpose?"
  
  "I don't know. However, the Labour itself-"
  
  "THIS LABOUR IS THE ULTIMATE INSULT TO YOU, HUNTRESSES! LOOK! I HAVE DEFILED THE SACRED ESSENCE OF THE CATTLE OF APPOLO, THE BROTHER YOUR GODDESS CHERISHES! I HAVE POURED BLOOD AND MAGIC TO CREATE A NEW SPECIES FROM THIS SUCCULENT CATTLE, AND THUS THE SUN MAMMOTHS WERE BORN! SURELY YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE THE FIELD TO AVENGE THIS INSULT!"
  
  The microphones and the cameras, Antaeus could see, were immediately moved in front of the platform where Team Adjudicator was seated.
  
  The reaction of the Huntresses was loud...and not the one Commodus expected.
  
  "What should we care that this pervert is humiliated? It serves him right, for trying to kill our ears with his stupid haikus!"
  
  Commodus was struck speechless at that.
  
  Yeah, this had not been the reaction the Narcissist Emperor wanted.
  
  For many seconds, Commodus stayed like this, unable to do anything more than gaping.
  
  Antaeus laughed so much that he honestly wasn't able to stop for about ten minutes.
  
  26 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  "How could my lovely girl-scouts be so cruel?" Apollo cried.
  
  The God of Music had never felt so unfairly treated!
  
  Was he not the cool 'uncle' of the Hunt?
  
  Was he not saving the Huntresses from time to time, bringing the sun to earth in flashy displays and fantastic rescues?
  
  "These are my Huntresses, Apollo. They are not and never will be your girl-scouts. Just for that, this humiliation is the least you deserve."
  
  "You are so cruel, little sister."
  
  "I am the eldest sibling, Apollo!"
  
  "Technically-"
  
  "And you should be more worried about earning an extra-punishment from Father."
  
  The God of Medicine glared. Sometimes, if Artemis wasn't his sister...
  
  "I made sure all my sacred cows were returned to me. I incinerated Geryon for the myriad of insults he visited upon them." The God of the Sun explained the problem. "I however couldn't reclaim plenty of the ones which had been slaughtered. I admit that at the time, I didn't find it important. They hadn't been sacrificed to any deity, and they clearly weren't used for a dangerous ritual either. Tracking back every piece of them didn't feel like a priority."
  
  "Well, you were completely wrong, it appears. Commodus clearly used their essence for his odious crossbreeding experiments." His little sister gave him an unimpressed look before frowning. "Though honestly, I can't imagine what the point is exactly. Yes, the Mammoths are big and red. Yes, they can be used as some sort of improvised archery platforms for the humans riding them. But both my Huntresses and the males accompanying them have the skills to slay that sort of beast. It isn't like they will miss such large targets in the Maze."
  
  As insulting as the tone was, Artemis had a point.
  
  The 'Sun Mammoths' were absurdly huge, and in a Maze, that was going to result in the reality they couldn't avoid any attack.
  
  Yes, the tusks were far longer and bigger than any ivory one found on an African Elephant, but it wasn't going to save them.
  
  Someone like Clarisse La Rue, for example, had a nasty spear with long-range killing abilities. A Mammoth wasn't going to ever be able to come close to a team of very powerful Demigods and Demigoddesses.
  
  "THE GREAT TASK OF BOTH TEAMS IS SIMPLE, YET WORTHY OF NEO HERCULES! THE SUN MAMMOTHS WILL BE RELEASED INTO THE MAZE! TEAM ADJUDICATOR AND TEAM TRIUMVIRATE MUST RETURN THEM TO THEIR RANCH, WHICH IS THE ARENA WHERE THEY ARE CURRENTLY CORRALLED! THEY HAVE TWO HOURS TO ACHIEVE IT! THE TEAM WHICH WILL RETURN THE GREATEST NUMBER OF MAMMOTHS WINS, BUT ONLY IF ALL THE MAMMOTHS ARE ALL CORRALLED BY THE DEADLINE!"
  
  This was...an impossible Labour for mortals.
  
  Apollo was sure every fair God - and he was one - could acknowledge that.
  
  The Maze was absurdly huge. Tracking the Mammoths alone was going to take hours if they didn't cooperate, and with riders on their backs to control them, it was a guarantee the beasts wouldn't obey anyone from Team Adjudicator or Team Triumvirate.
  
  Worse, there were forty Mammoths. Forty, not two or three.
  
  "LIKE EVERY OTHER LABOUR OF THIS GLORIOUS DAY, TWELVE GLADIATORS MUST BE SELECTED FOR THE EIGHTH LABOUR!"
  
  And then something terrifying happened.
  
  The Sun Mammoth closest to the exit gate of the arena, annoyed by Commodus' voice, decided to trumpet its displeasure.
  
  It was very loud.
  
  It could have been something worth a cheer or two.
  
  It wasn't.
  
  For suddenly, the colour of the Mammoth's trunk turned from red to gold.
  
  A second later, an incandescent mark shaped like a line was 'printed' upon the walls of the arena.
  
  "Did-" This time, it was Artemis' turn to gape, though it didn't last long.
  
  "Did one of these Mammoths just shoot a laser attack using its trunk?"
  
  "Yes," Apollo answered weakly, realising suddenly what kind of monstrous opponents these new monsters truly represented. "Yes, I believe the Mammoth just did that."
  
  The Suicide Squad had prevented the worst from happening during the Seventh Labour, but clearly their enemies were hardly out of tricks and vicious plans to kill them...
  
  25 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Ellen wasn't going to lie: Jenna and she had giggled and laughed everything they had in their lungs and heart when Commodus told them they should feel insulted about the humiliation delivered to Apollo.
  
  Seriously, it was Apollo! Setting aside the fact that the Hunt was sworn to Artemis in the first place, male Gods were hardly exactly popular among their ranks.
  
  At best, the Lieutenants acknowledged sometimes that some males did more good than they caused wrongs.
  
  Not Apollo, though.
  
  Ellen had been there when Apollo tried to corrupt them with his perverted mangas. Assuredly, the God of the Sun had not been exactly a friend of the Huntresses before, but since he had gone to Japan, his perversions seemed to have gotten worse.
  
  Ellen wasn't going to say she relished the idea of Commodus scoring several points against an Olympian. It was Commodus, and she hated that Narcissist Monster.
  
  But she wasn't going to answer the provocations for the sake of Apollo. If the intention of the 'ignoble High Judge' was to anger them so badly their self-control snapped, Ellen was eager to tell him it was a splendid failure!
  
  "Right, this was amusing, and everything," Jade was saying to Clarisse La Rue while trying to stop giggling. "But I presume we must discuss-"
  
  FSSSSSHIIISH!
  
  All laughter stopped near-instantly.
  
  Even the crowd abruptly ceased its bloodthirsty clamour.
  
  "Did..." Jenna tried to clear her throat, and had to do it twice before something coherent came out of her mouth. "Did this Mammoth just use his trunk to shoot a laser?"
  
  This was a nightmare. It had to be.
  
  To her sorrow, the nightmare never stopped. The Sun Mammoths all trumpeted their anger, and the trunks turned all gold one by one.
  
  Lasers hit the walls of the arena-corral. The structure resisted, but it was clear enchantments and new protections had been added to make sure the walls were Mammoth-resistant.
  
  "Suddenly, it sounds far less amusing than I believe it would be," Kimiko said in a worried voice next to them. "Come on, I believed we would get the long-range advantage with our cyber-bows. We would have just to keep the distance open and convince them with our arrows that their choices were between being arrow-fodder and returning to their starting 'corral'."
  
  Yeah. Ellen had though the same. The Mammoths were big, and did not look like they were agile or particularly fast.
  
  It had looked like an easy win.
  
  The laser-projecting trunks had completely broken that within a couple of heartbeats.
  
  These were incredibly powerful attacks.
  
  And in a Maze whose corridors were relatively narrow, two Mammoths 'firing' their trunks at the same time were going to unleash something that didn't bear thinking about.
  
  It was no wonder that Commodus had been willing to provide these Hoplite Armours.
  
  Against these lasers, it didn't really matter if you wore one.
  
  And as if it couldn't get worse...the Maze was still plunged into darkness. It was safe to bet that the Sun Mammoths had night vision, while preciously few people of Team Adjudicator had.
  
  "Jackson! Are you sure we can't deliberately lose a Labour? I mean, the Cattle of Apollo will be used as superb steaks in the end, so it isn't like we have to make a serious effort, right?"
  
  The son of Poseidon began to cackle...something that, all Huntresses agreed with each other wordlessly, was assuredly not a good sign.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Triumvirate, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Medea didn't believe she had been that humiliated before, and yes, this counted the multiple instances Jason had broken his oaths to her.
  
  Commodus was going to die for that.
  
  The Narcissist bastard had marked her flesh and soul; there was going to be destructive vengeance unleashed for this. Until today, Medea had not seen what pushed Circe to change men into pigs, but this was no longer the case.
  
  Every member of the House of Commodus was going to suffer for this. Prometheus would pay too, of course. Everyone who had played a part in organising the Sixth Labour was going to suffer.
  
  This was her promise.
  
  Obviously, Medea had tried to change back to her human body first. But all of the attempts had been failure.
  
  It shouldn't be possible. She was an Immortal Sorceress, and her magic-casting capabilities were as potent as ever.
  
  Yet there was a sort of awful block preventing her from erasing this humiliation. She was stuck. Whatever visualisation and imaginative method used, there was only this form imposing itself to her mind.
  
  Her mind had been forced to assimilate the Centaur essence, and no matter how hard she tried, Medea couldn't fight it.
  
  She, the Princess of Colchis, had been given half of the body of a nag.
  
  She was given four legs, much like a horse.
  
  Commodus and each of all his accomplices were going to die.
  
  "If only this was the only humiliation. If only."
  
  But it wasn't.
  
  With her clothes having shared the fate of the Cyber-Hoplite Armour, the bastards had moved ahead and prepared 'replacements'.
  
  Medea had almost killed the servants who brought the insulting garb.
  
  It looked like a parody of dress, it covered just the front of her new body, and it was gold, with black sigils.
  
  It left her shoulders completely bare, though it covered completely her arms and hands as if opera gloves had been added to it.
  
  But nothing could stop anyone from noticing that it left half of her beasts exposed, and what wasn't was hidden by some decoration stylising a black-coloured ram head.
  
  Had she mentioned she was going to make Commodus a eunuch with small scissors? No? Well, now she had said it.
  
  Returning to the Entrance Platform was difficult. Her body had assimilated the Centaur essence, but she was not used to walking like a quadruped, and every time she thought too hard about it, the stumbling was not long in coming.
  
  In the end, Medea had to embrace instincts that were not hers. Which was exactly what the enemy wanted, of course. Bastards.
  
  Needless to say, her return was very much the opposite of discretion. There were thousands of Centaurs baying and drooling. They were doing things to attract her attention-
  
  Medea focused on what was ahead of her, and stepped forwards.
  
  "I heard we got one more shared victory?" the Immortal Sorceress asked calmly when she was a metre away from the Captain of Triumvirate.
  
  "We did. And Otrera, First Queen of the Amazons, learned that failure had a costly price."
  
  Seeing that there was a Serpopard of all things leashed at the feet of Prometheus, Medea could very well believe it.
  
  "I apologise? By the way. For-"
  
  "You're not the one who has to apologise." Medea sent a glare promising pure murder at half of the occupants of the Throne-Lodge. "But to be fair, I do not think I am in the mood to accept their apologies. At this moment, I very much want to verify if gutting them and having a blood bath after filling a bathtub with the content of their veins will be enough to return me to my original body."
  
  "Ah...I don't think it is going to work."
  
  "But it will begin to feel me much, much better." Medea proclaimed before looking at the screens closest to the seats. "We have...five minutes to choose the teams for the Eighth Labour?"
  
  "Yes." Marcus Antonius confirmed. "To be honest, I don't know what kind of team I can send that is not going to be horribly mangled in mere minutes."
  
  "Hmm..." they were monsters that looked like red-skinned mammoths at the centre of the arena. "They don't look-"
  
  FFIISSSSSSSH!
  
  "What that a trunk-projected laser?"
  
  "Yes. The Pit only knows how, but it seems Commodus took some essence of the sacred Cattle of the Sun God, somehow resurrected the mammoth species to imbue them with it, before deciding that, yes, they had to be able to shoot lasers with their trunks."
  
  Medea has the sudden urge to murder someone. It would be so nice if Commodus was close, so she could cut whatever he had between his legs, before she fed it to him and strangled his narcissist throat-
  
  "Our Legionnaires have some training in fighting elephants, but against this kind of overwhelming firepower, they're going to die in droves."
  
  "Yes," the Roman officer turned Lord of the Triumvirate agreed. "And there is worse. Most of the longest-range options we have are the cyber-bows wielded by girls who are the targets of Commodus. But as it currently stands, I don't see a way even they can come close enough to maim the Mammoths."
  
  "This is...a bad situation." The Immortal Sorceress acknowledged, turning her concentration into solving the problem and not into watching her cursed body.
  
  "It gets worse. The goal here is not to slay the Sun Mammoths, but to send them packing to the corral where they are currently trapped. And we have to do it in two hours."
  
  Medea had seen some ridiculous Labours, but here-
  
  "It's impossible," the Princess of Colchis said bluntly. "Yes, I'm sure there's theoretically a chance to push these dangerous beasts back to the central arena, in practise even surviving is going to be difficult. Last time I checked, none of us were given a single weapon having the capabilities to frighten these Mammoths."
  
  "WELL? NO ONE IS VOLUNTEERING? IS THERE NO ONE BRAVE ENOUGH TO COMPLETE THIS LABOUR? I CAN REPEAT-"
  
  Medea wondered for a couple of seconds why Commodus had suddenly stopped his grand series of odious provocations.
  
  The answer required her to turn her head.
  
  Perseus Jackson had abandoned his seat.
  
  No, the son of Poseidon had done more than that.
  
  He was suddenly on the shoulders of his friend the Minotaur, agitating an orange flag where the letters 'SUICIDE SQUAD' were painted in deep black.
  
  "REJOICE COMMODUS!" Perseus Jackson roared, his voice burning with power. "FOR I HAVE HEARD YOUR CHALLENGE, AND I FOUND IT GOOD!"
  
  "But..." the Immortal Sorceress suddenly felt her understanding slipping away. "You all participated in the previous Labour. You are all exhausted...and even if you weren't, how in the name of the Golden Fleece could there be any success? The energy reserves of your Cyber-Armours are near-empty!"
  
  "I don't know," Marcus Antonius, Second Imperator of the Triumvirate, admitted out loud. "But I have a feeling we're going to discover it very soon."
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Reyna Ramirez-Arellano could honestly say she hadn't seen it coming until it was too late.
  
  In hindsight, though, they all really should have, be they members of the Suicide Squad, part of Commodus' staff, or the average spectator.
  
  They had all assumed Perseus wouldn't dare descend into the Maze again. Not when his Cyber-Hoplite Armour was as useful as the rock Sisyphus was supposed to push in the Fields of Punishment.
  
  Yes, with the benefit of hindsight, they should have known better.
  
  Jackson thrived into doing unexpected things.
  
  "Here we go again," Dakota sighed in despair. "Craziness is going to drown us before the end of these Labours, I am sure about it now."
  
  "Are you sure you aren't a bit pessimistic?" the daughter of Bellona raised an eyebrow.
  
  "To accompany me in this glorious eighth foray in this superb Coliseum," the leader of the Suicide Squad continued with a grin that was honestly quite frightening, "I choose of course my drunken lieutenant, Dakota McDonald! He will not feel alone, for he will fight with Reyna and Hylla Ramirez-Arellano!"
  
  "You were saying?" the black-haired son of Bacchus asked sarcastically.
  
  Reyna rolled her eyes.
  
  "I stand corrected. Of course-"
  
  "This team of twelve will be of course led by me, Perseus Jackson, with my friend Asterius being my second in command!"
  
  "I really wonder if our crazy leader intends to stay on the shoulders of the Minotaur for the entire two hours." Her sister intervened. "I mean, yeah, I know he bathed in Drakon's blood, but T-Shirt and shorts seems a bit light given the sheer firepower we're going up against."
  
  "The Minotaur doesn't have armour either. Or rather he chose not to don it...whatever the reason, it ends up with this outcome."
  
  "Clarisse La Rue will be my third in command!"
  
  The daughter of Ares grinned, looking very pleased her period of boredom was coming to an end.
  
  Someone was going to have her fun. Well, besides Jackson, but who counted him?
  
  "And since we need six souls playing the role of cannon-fodder..." Jackson smiled to the crowd before clearing his throat. "Excuse me, since we need six brave souls that are totally not going to be trampled by violent Mammoths..."
  
  "WE ARE NOT VOLUNTEERING!"
  
  This was exactly the wrong thing to say.
  
  The malevolent red eye of the son of Poseidon was now focused on the mercenaries, and Reyna could tell that it was very much something you wanted to avoid.
  
  "I don't remember giving you a choice, Colonel Ross."
  
  The surviving butchers sworn to Ares all became livid faster than you could say 'gladiator'.
  
  "This is the moment you wash your dishonour! This is a moment you try to erase the perfidy of your predecessors! This is the battlefield where your actions will be remembered for all eternity, or at least until the next Sunday brunch organised by Olympus!"
  
  The last argument, honestly, should be struck from the records, no matter how accurate it could possibly be.
  
  "I refuse," one of the tallest mercenaries stubbornly affirmed. "We know the rules. We aren't going to die because you're a capricious little shit."
  
  The Minotaur removed half of the distance that had existed between them and him.
  
  "You can try to intimidate us, but it's not going to work. We have...WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NOOOOOOOOO!"
  
  Reyna grimaced.
  
  There were unpleasant manners to begin a Labour, but being used like a trebuchet projectile, with Asterius the Minotaur being the trebuchet, largely figured near the top of the list.
  
  "HOW INCREDIBLE! TEAM ADJUDICATOR HAS DECIDED TO END THE PERIOD OF PREPARATIONS AND SEND A GLADIATOR HEADFIRST INTO THE MAZE!"
  
  There was a couple of seconds of silence.
  
  "I THINK HOWEVER THAT MAYBE SENDING HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF A MINEFIELD MAY NOT HAVE BEEN THE BEST IDEA TO IMPROVE HIS LIFE-EXPECTANCY..."
  
  "Rico!"
  
  KKKAAAAABBBBOOOOOOOM!
  
  "Some of you," Perseus Jackson announced, his arms crossed from his position on his friend's shoulders, "are under the delusion you can mutiny without suffering for your defiance. I am the Tyrant of the Suicide Squad, and the King of Pirates! Do not try my patience. Colonel Ross, you and four others will follow me into this dark Maze! NOW!"
  
  26 January 2007, the Maze of the Eighth Labour, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Dakota had thought it was going to be a complicated Labour, even if Asterius the Minotaur could keep up the pace of someone running in Cyber-Hoplite Armour.
  
  They had to track and hunt Sun Mammoth in a seemingly-endless Maze, after all.
  
  Unfortunately, Dakota had worried for the wrong reasons.
  
  They weren't going to hunt the pachyderms armed with laser trunks.
  
  It was the Sun Mammoths which were going to hunt them.
  
  Silver lining in all of this: their enemies were not agile or good at tracking them in narrow spaces. It also appeared that while Commodus had enlarged plenty of corridors to make sure the majority of the labyrinth wasn't denied to the Mammoths, it had left plenty of alleys where they couldn't go.
  
  "Jackson," Dakota only spoke again when he was sure he had recovered some breath after some five minutes of running for his life. "Please tell me you have one of your plans of genius ready."
  
  "Of course I have a plan." The son of Poseidon jumped from the shoulders of Asterius. "Honestly, I'm troubled by your lack of faith, my drunken lieutenant!"
  
  "You have no plan," Colonel 'Thunderbolt' Ross said threateningly. The man was red-faced, and seemed to be more exhausted than all Demigods here, save perhaps his own men. For some reason, Dakota suddenly thought the mercenaries of the War God weren't that good when it came to maintaining a regular training schedule.
  
  "It is a very serious accusation," Perseus rolled his eyes. "And it's completely wrong, besides."
  
  "I don't care about how ridiculous you think I am!" The son of Deimos snarled. "I am going to take command and-"
  
  This time, Jackson sent a small shockwave, for the mercenary was 'just' sent flying ten metres away. A second later, there was a shroud of black and blue magic.
  
  The 'Colonel' began to scream...and his brutish looks twisted and began to melt.
  
  "Jackson," Clarisse La Rue began in a tired tone. "Was it really necessary? We already went in that Maze with eleven instead of twelve members."
  
  "Yes, and I know." The leader of the Suicide Squad stepped forwards, towards the fallen son of Deimos.
  
  The tall man with the myriad of tattoos on his arms wasn't there anymore.
  
  He had been transformed.
  
  That wasn't a surprise, alas.
  
  What was however a big surprise, however was the end result of the changes brought by the magical trap.
  
  Ross had not been cursed into something monstrous.
  
  Unless you considered a pink-furred Persian cat some kind of monster, anyway.
  
  "I believe I will call you Ernst Stavro Blofeld," yes, Perseus was gloating, in case you doubted it.
  
  The mercenary-turned-cat hissed angrily...and then fled using all the celerity granted by its four legs, deep into the labyrinth.
  
  No one chose to pursue the pink and furry cat.
  
  "I will repeat Clarisse's words, Jackson. Was it really necessary?"
  
  "Yes," this time, Jackson was more serious, as he walked calmly and grabbed the cursed artefact which had inflicted the feline transformation. "I wanted to study this."
  
  "I would have thought this could wait until we finished the Labours."
  
  "It can't. Not when Medea is unable to return to her normal body. I was able to think of seven reasons why. One of them, obviously, was that the Titan allied with our ignoble host has an endless stash of Primordial-made objects."
  
  Dakota shivered violently, and he wasn't the only one.
  
  "Please tell me it isn't the case."
  
  "It isn't the case," the Slayer of Fimbulvetr said while his eyes studied avidly the little disk of bronze in his hands. "The book of the Deep which turned Iphigenia into...something other was the only Primordial artefact."
  
  Jackson sighed.
  
  "Okay. I believe why the transformations are near-impossible to reverse. It's rather simple, in fact."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Really. The basic truth is that these magical traps have been created by someone more powerful than an Immortal Sorceress, yet falling far short of the Primordial threshold."
  
  "That is not a long list, short one," Asterius commented with a bovine huff.
  
  "It is not." Perseus agreed. "And knowing Commodus has received enough support from one of these beings is very bad news, I must admit."
  
  The ground trembled under their feet, and some fifty metres away, the darkness was brutally illuminated by a very powerful golden laser.
  
  "All of this is completely fascinating," Dakota chose to adopt a particularly sarcastic tone, "and I'm sure your second girlfriend has noted everything and will be prompt to give a very detailed report once we get out of this Maze...assuming we get out of this alive, that is. But it doesn't tell us how to defeat the Sun Mammoths."
  
  "I thought it would be evident, my drunken lieutenant. These creations are single-use only. Clearly, either the Titan or Prometheus feared I would manage to create a counter-curse with some assistance if they fell in my hands intact. But an empty chalice is still a chalice."
  
  The grin of the madman was back.
  
  "Give me one minute, and I promise you, things are going to be particularly hellish for the enemy."
  
  But the Narcissist Emperor was listening to them.
  
  Immediately, the walls of the Maze began to move.
  
  "Err...Jackson? We may need your secret weapon in the next thirty seconds..."
  
  "Clarisse, prepare your special attack." The red eye was unblinking and utterly focused on the 'trap', fiddling with things that were probably completely unsafe to fiddle with. "The others, prepare to take cover."
  
  It didn't take more than fifteen seconds for the first Mammoth to come in view.
  
  It was truly a colossal beast.
  
  It had long tusks that had been decorated with barbed wire, in case someone was stupid enough to rush it and begin a fight at close-quarters.
  
  It was a red juggernaut that should have been extinct long ago, but now walked to destroy them.
  
  The trunk began to change colour, from red to gold.
  
  "JACKSON!"
  
  "Well, it's done." A mercenary suddenly flew forwards, the cursed item strapped to his chest. "ACTIVATION!"
  
  The Sun Mammoth fired.
  
  The mercenary sworn to Ares...suddenly turned into something glassy?
  
  The laser hit him perfectly, and the laser rebounded on him, before returning as fast as it had come for its creator. The Mammoth was thrown away by the power of its own attack.
  
  "It was not...you transformed someone into a mirror-human!"
  
  "Very good, Dakota," the insane Demigod praised him. "Clarisse, please."
  
  The daughter of Ares struck with her Cyber-Spear, and it must have been altered when the Praetorians weren't looking, for the son of Bacchus was sure these weapons weren't supposed to be electrified in the first place.
  
  More lasers were fired. The mirror-mercenary sent them all back, generating an apocalypse of laser attacks which were hurled back at the enemy.
  
  Their enemies were literally saturated by lasers, shockwaves and lightning-themed attacks, and they all dropped to the ground. All in all, three Mammoths and all their riders and escorts had been decisively defeated.
  
  And to his astonishment, Dakota watched as the collars around the necks of Mammoths and humans alike were breaking apart.
  
  "Once again, electromagnetic pulses are for the win," Jackson commented drily. "I would have preferred to have a child of the Lightning God onboard, but Clarisse is more than skilled enough for the job."
  
  "A pleasure," the daughter of Ares grunted with a smirk on her lips.
  
  "What were these collars about, anyway? They feel...nasty."
  
  They marched directly for the Mammoths. Unsurprisingly, the riders of the first one, which had been hit by enough lasers to lose count, were dead. The second and third crew, however, were alive, albeit still under the shock of what had happened. All the Mammoths were alive, though. It seemed they had some immunity to their own 'fire'.
  
  "Motivator Implants," Perseus Jackson spoke with disgust once he had one next to his feet. "I should have realised."
  
  "Motivation what?"
  
  "They've been used by magical terrorist groups recently," the son of Poseidon's eyes had turned extremely cold. "The collars are just to hide the surgery done, by the way. Some bastards do some kind of surgical operation upon the victim. Once it's done, you've an implant directly in contact with your brain. That means with the correct consoles and frequency, someone can push a button and make you feel the most intense pleasure you will ever be able to enjoy in your life. The alternative is to press the second button and make you feel the most intense pain for as long as the 'master' decides you must suffer."
  
  "Gods," Clarisse looked horrified, and Dakota knew all the faces of Team Adjudicator must show similar expressions. "But that's...that's..."
  
  "That's an awful fate, yes. No wonder they all looked like they were drugged. They are, in a way. Too many times of receiving the 'pleasure' tend to create someone perfectly obedient and ready to do anything to feel it again and again."
  
  "Well..." the son of Bacchus shook his head. The words failed him, and it wasn't a figure of speech. "I think at least we will be able to free these poor guys. I mean, they are only enemies because of their collars, right?"
  
  "Yes, they are. One can only hope there's enough sanity inside them to live without the Implants"
  
  "Fine," Clarisse said impatiently. "In that case, it's time to begin the Great Mammoth hunt for good. We have a mirror-man to neutralise the lasers-"
  
  Three arrows flew like they had been sent by the servants of the Hunt.
  
  But they had not been sent by the Huntresses; they were none in this Maze.
  
  It was the Centaurs.
  
  It always was the Centaurs.
  
  The mercenary turned into 'Mirror-Man' didn't have the time to push more than a scream, as the arrows all hit him in the head.
  
  He was dead before he touched the ground.
  
  Clarisse's counterattack killed the monsters before they could flee, but the damage had been done.
  
  "Jackson, please tell me you can do your mirror curse again."
  
  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
  
  "Commodus is detonating all the traps of similar nature in the Maze. Does it answer your question?"
  
  "Yes, I suppose it does. Are you saying-"
  
  "Plan M has failed, yes."
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum, 'Narcissist Island'
  
  The penguins were the first to curse, this time.
  
  Ethan didn't. What would be the point? Plan M was a failure, and shouting a thousand insults would not change that fact.
  
  "This Labour isn't fifteen minutes-old, and it's already a disaster."
  
  Team Triumvirate had joined up with Perseus and the others, for all the good it did. Yes, Mark Antony and eleven more Legionnaires were not completely useless, but they couldn't turn around what had just happened.
  
  Commodus, for all his narcissism and arrogance, had seen what was to come, and his counter-measures had worked.
  
  Good luck now to find a mirror in this Maze; for some reason, Ethan didn't think several of them were just waiting to be found in the first secret passage near the Demigods' current location.
  
  "It was not a bad plan." Lou Ellen Blackstone noted.
  
  "It wasn't," Ethan admitted. "But for once, Jackson was forced to bet on a plan that had a very obvious flaw. He just didn't have the time to create more 'mirror-men'. Finding several cursed artefacts like the one he modified would have taken way too long."
  
  And the Sun Mammoths had pressed Team Adjudicator too hard, too fast.
  
  Perseus, Asterius, Clarisse, and all the others never had the initiative, and now they were paying the price dearly.
  
  "I suppose it means Perseus will have no choice but to go for it now."
  
  Ethan looked warily at the blonde Demigoddess.
  
  "I presume you're speaking of the Second Act of Plan L."
  
  "Clarisse was sent because she could change her spear enough to trick the Praetorians and play her part in Plan M. Why do you think the others were sent?"
  
  Ethan grimaced, and gave a glance to the crowd which was on the edge of suffocating in bloodlust. All the deaths and the carnage had brought everything one step away from a precipice, one which could assuredly be called 'carnage'.
  
  "Here we go, then."
  
  "It is going to work."
  
  "Oh, I have no doubt." The grim son of Nemesis replied. "And I suppose we should see the good sight: Commodus is never going to see it coming."
  
  26 January 2007, the Maze of the Eighth Labour, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Naturally, Commodus had completely changed his approach.
  
  Perseus had expected nothing else.
  
  Sending them the Sun Mammoths had not worked, and had allowed him to defeat them piecemeal.
  
  The counter-move was obvious: order the pachyderms to muster in a single point, so that fighting one meant fighting all of them.
  
  There was only one location which could fit thirty-seven Mammoths at once: the empty wasteland separating Maze from Inner Arena.
  
  And it was there they waited.
  
  Evidently, there was an army to protect them.
  
  Commodus and his subordinates had really taken no chance. The laser trunks of their towering prehistoric elephants were best at long-distance, and so they had brought enough monsters to ensure all these assets were used as devastatingly as possible.
  
  This time, this was no horde.
  
  It was a well-disciplined army, kept in line by the ugly 'Motivator Implants', and supported by a thousand killer-automatons. There were over one hundred Centaurs, and plenty of Scythian Dracanae.
  
  But the great majority of the foes were 'collared' humans, their delighted expressions angering him.
  
  "All of us are free," the former Tyrant whispered, "or none of us are."
  
  His friend the Hierarch would have gone on a rampage for this, of that he was certain.
  
  "Is it the plan?" Mark Antony asked by his side. "Because while I admit I am sometimes guilty of going for extremely risky tactics, this is beyond 'risky'."
  
  "One might say a frontal attack against those will be a bit suicidal, no?"
  
  "One might say that."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "Fortunately, they made a mistake."
  
  "Forgive me if I say this, Perseus Jackson, but I don't see where they did one."
  
  "I thought it was obvious," the son of Poseidon shrugged. "They gathered everyone in the same location."
  
  "And how is it a problem for them? Except for you and me, a single laser attack is largely sufficient to maim or severely injure a Demigod. And there are thirty-seven Mammoths against us. The three you freed are sympathetic to your plight, but they stay well behind us. The poor animals aren't going to kill us when they've just tasted freedom."
  
  "Absolutely correct," Perseus drew his sword. "Fortunately, there's a Demigod here who largely can defeat this army on his own, and change the situation in a fraction of second."
  
  "You?"
  
  Perseus cackled.
  
  "No, not me."
  
  He threw his sword.
  
  Dakota MacDonald caught it in flight, before realising what had happened.
  
  "You're not serious," the son of Bacchus groaned. "Jackson, I didn't even empty a jug of wine before starting this Labour!"
  
  "My not-so-drunken lieutenant, stop underestimating yourself, please. Your madness has never been in the wine. It's in you."
  
  "I have not...there's no return possible if it's not tied to Wine!"
  
  Perseus clapped with his hands.
  
  The two Ramirez-Arellano sisters took position and placed their hands upon Dakota's shoulders.
  
  "You-"
  
  "We don't see eye-to-eye on many subjects, but you are not too bad, for a son of Bacchus," Hylla told him. "And I for one admit we didn't exactly do things with you that we regretted later."
  
  "I am willing to say the same," Reyna added before adding a few words directly in the ear who made Dakota blush.
  
  "GOOD!" Perseus shouted, with all the more urgency, as in the Imperial Lodge, someone was moving. Suddenly, the opposition had a clue about what was about to happen. "GOOD! I am the Champion of Love, and I call for the Goddess to bring great joy and fiery Lust upon them one more time! Let the Sea of Monsters boil! Let the Maze tremble! Let it be madness, where Lust will not allow our foes to distinguish allies from opponents! LET IT BE LOVE, AS LONG AS IT IS LUST IN MADNESS!"
  
  Prometheus had been careful enough to protect the monsters and his forces, this time. But this didn't mean anything, for the dam that Perseus broke was in Dakota's heart.
  
  And there wasn't any protection against that.
  
  Lust and Madness erupted, uncontrollable.
  
  It was dolorous. It was powerful.
  
  It was awesome.
  
  Perseus watched as Dakota growled, fiercely kissed Reyna and Hylla, and then did an impossible jump that saw him land on one of the freed Sun Mammoths.
  
  "FORWARDS!" His drunken lieutenant screamed, right as the spectators of the Coliseum began to fight and fornicate with each other. "FORWARDS I WANT THE TUSKS TO HIT SOMEWHERE THE LASERS CAN'T SHINE!"
  
  All discipline was lost.
  
  The Curse of Lust was spreading everywhere.
  
  Monsters and gladiators were charging without waiting for orders, ignoring the bite of the 'Motivator Implants'.
  
  The battle had begun, and it was glorious.
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of Commodus
  
  If Dionysus wasn't a God, he would have died ten times already. Laughing so much when you tried to drink twelve barrels of red wine at the same time...it was hardly a good thing if you valued your life.
  
  Really, even he had expelled good wine from his nose and other holes as his hilarity was totally out of control.
  
  "NO! NO! THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT! OBEY! RETURN IN FORMATION! I COMMAND YOU!"
  
  But all the efforts of Commodus, relayed by his lieutenants controlling the 'Motivator Implants', were for naught.
  
  His son was riding a Mammoth in the middle of the enemy army, his two girlfriends by his side, and madness engulfed everything.
  
  This was, to be sure, a sort of chaotic madness you rarely watched with your own eyes.
  
  It was even worse than what Perseus Jackson had done during the first Labour; there at least, there had been more killing than body-to-body coupling, and some monsters had retained their wits.
  
  None of that was present for the Eighth Labour. The God of Wine didn't know if it had to do with these slavery Implants or not, but the entirety of Commodus' army had embraced the madness, meaning Clarisse La Rue had no problem plunging in their ranks and unleashing her Implant-destroying attacks.
  
  Add the 'reinforcements' of the Narcissist Emperor now behaving like proper followers of his, and the strategy of the 'High Judge' had completely collapsed in a couple of minutes.
  
  "WE ARE NOT LOSING! NOT AGAIN!"
  
  "Commodus," the name had been spoken with a voice Dionysus had not heard today.
  
  Prometheus was not pleased at all.
  
  "YES?"
  
  "You are not winning."
  
  The four words achieved the impossible: cooling down the wrath of the Emperor in less time than it took to describe his purple-red face.
  
  "Forgive me, I was...I assure you, the situation is complicated, but more of my troops are on the way. I can stop this...this crazy situation, and return it to normal."
  
  "No, you can't. The troops incoming are succumbing the moment they enter the area of influence of the Lust-Madness that has been unleashed."
  
  "If I kill Perseus Jackson-"
  
  "That won't change anything," Prometheus shook his head. "The son of Bacchus was unleashed the well of madness this time, and he has two 'anchors'. He also had the time to infect thousands of others. I don't think that if we kill every gladiator currently standing near the arena, we would be able to stop this."
  
  Dionysus, at that moment, regretted very much the Titan was here to give sound advice.
  
  "And if I let the two hours deadline run out before disqualifying them?"
  
  Hundreds of eyes turned towards the countdown and the massive clocks recording the time. The Eighth Labour had begun precisely forty-seven minutes and three seconds ago.
  
  "You want to let the Eighth Labour continue for one more hour?"
  
  Commodus opened his hour to answer, then suddenly became aware of the folly contaminating the hundreds of thousands of spectators.
  
  The waves of lust were powerful, and by now, fornication, monstrous mating, and plenty of scenes straight out of a porn movie were happening everywhere. This was just for Lust, of course. Many more beings, like the Centaurs, had decided bloodthirst and killing were far more preferable activities. Madness was everywhere.
  
  In their sections, there were already rivers of blood flooding, and the Coliseum guards were unable to stop the onslaught in its tracks.
  
  "Jackson can't let this...this farce continue for several hours!"
  
  "Why not?" Dionysus decided to intervene cheerfully and play the role he'd been given. "I, for one, approve completely."
  
  "If this madness doesn't end," Commodus threatened him like the spoilt child he was, "it will be impossible to organise any more Labours!"
  
  "Yes?"
  
  The Emperor's face was a wondrous tapestry of loathing, horror, and offended pride.
  
  "You can't be serious! It can't be...it can't be his plan!"
  
  "He is serious, Commodus." Prometheus gave him a semi-impressed glance. Dionysus smiled back. "If the madness spreads to the entire island, there won't be any way to organise the Labours, except if we decide to make the Ninth a giant orgy where having sex and drinking the strongest drinks in existence are the challenges."
  
  "Something that for the record," Dionysus raised a barrel with one hand, "I completely support."
  
  The Titan of Crafty Counsel licked his lips, unease evident.
  
  Yes, with Python, with his Oracle gone, Prometheus was completely fumbling in the dark here, and it wasn't a metaphor.
  
  "We are going to enter the legend," Antaeus announced. "We have a ninety-nine point nine share of the holo-audience on Olympus. And there's even more than that on Atlantis!"
  
  Commodus' eyes flashed murderously, as could be expected. One could see that the audiences skyrocketing to watch his complete humiliation had not been the kind of success he craved. And it was not the Divine Domain he wanted to usurp when he decided to become the High Judge.
  
  "I...I can declare this Labour over." The 'Neo Hercules' golden persona was completely absent now. Commodus was reacting like a cornered beast which also happened to be wounded. "DETONATE THE IMPLANTS! ACTIVATE ALL THE EXPLOSIVES! NOW!"
  
  The next seconds were very much placed under the description of 'bloodbath'.
  
  Both Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate had tried their best to fry as many Motivator Implants as they could. But in the madness spreading, with everything a chaotic dance of lust and madness, their efforts had been far from truly successful.
  
  The heads of eleven Mammoths and more than five hundred fighters exploded in showers of gore.
  
  The corpses, already in significant numbers, became large enough to fill several pits of good size.
  
  And it didn't slow the madness in the slightest.
  
  In fact, it even increased its reach and its potency.
  
  "This isn't going to work." A strident melody arrived out of nowhere. Prometheus took a small mobile phone out of his pocket, and placed it against his ear. "Yes?"
  
  "Consider my support withdrawn." This was so quick Dionysus didn't even have the time to identify the voice.
  
  The phone returned to its pocket, and Commodus sighed.
  
  "This could have gone better."
  
  "Yes," Commodus seethed like he was about to be thrown in a cauldron of lava at any moment. "Yes, it could! I am the High Judge! They have to obey me!"
  
  Dionysus yawned.
  
  "Plenty of people appear to disagree with this statement nowadays."
  
  "YOU!" Ultimately, a short sparkle worth of intelligence had found its way into Commodus' head. "You are the God of Madness, and the First Referee! You can end this!"
  
  "I can," the former Demigod who had rampaged his way through a good part of Asia answered.
  
  Lying, in that regard, was kind of useless, with Prometheus present.
  
  "But why should I?"
  
  Commodus, rapist and Supreme Narcissist, opened his mouth.
  
  He shut it before any sound came out. Yes, that was the problem when you had burned every bridge in the last days, wasn't it?
  
  "You should, because Commodus can change his plans, and bring these Games to the grand finale everyone wants, and not this farcical debauchery that will please no one but Aphrodite." Prometheus declared coldly. "Furthermore, while your son is able to endure the full power of Madness without drinking a barrel of wine or two, this may still devour him in the end. I think Perseus Jackson and Marcus Antonius will survive until sunset. But the others won't."
  
  Dionysus drank a lot of wine.
  
  Commodus' eyes went from God to Titan, and vice-versa.
  
  "You want me..."
  
  "We want you," Perseus Jackson's amplified voice resonated in the stadium despite the complete chaos which had engulfed it, "to announce that the Ninth Labour will be the challenge of the Nemean Lion. You will descend into the Arena yourself to face Marcus Antonius and myself! It is under this condition and this condition alone that we will consider giving a pause to this charming trap you're unable to escape!"
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, Commodus Coliseum
  
  When this Great Quest would end for good, either the Olympians were going to reward Perseus Jackson with so much wealth that decades of previous Questers were going to look pathetic by comparison, or they were going to kill him on the spot.
  
  There was, in Miranda's humble opinion, no middle ground.
  
  What is left to say when you're able to blackmail someone like Commodus?
  
  How do you react when your leader has spread so much mayhem and madness that the only mediator possible is the God of Wine and Craziness himself?
  
  But above all, one had to ask the question: how many steps was Perseus Jackson ahead of anyone else?
  
  Miranda didn't know.
  
  She didn't know, and she was the Champion of Calypso; her sight was kilometres ahead of the average Demigoddess.
  
  Yet she didn't really know how high Jackson had climbed to achieve what he did at the moment.
  
  But it had to be said that the terrifying victory had not come cheap. Miranda didn't care that the Eighth Labour was officially not going to any Team, but the roster of Team Adjudicator was another matter altogether.
  
  The Night Hydra had wondered for several minutes why Jackson had prioritised Plan M before Plan L Mark 2.
  
  As it happened, the end of the madness had revealed a good part of the underlying reason.
  
  Dakota, Reyna, and Hylla had collapsed unconscious as soon as the effect ended. They were still breathing, but they would not fight anyone in the next hours.
  
  One had also to acknowledge that for the mercenaries that had been sent into the Maze, it had been a butchery. Colonel Ross, better known as 'Blofeld the pink kitten', was missing. Four of his men had died. The single mercenary that had survived had been evacuated to the infirmary, after trying to copulate with an Empousai. Yes, it had been that sort of insanity.
  
  To sum-up, only Asterius, Clarisse, and Jackson had been able to leave the arena on their own, and the Minotaur had carried the comatose survivors.
  
  Did anyone still think these Labours were supposed to be accomplished by normal Demigods?
  
  No?
  
  Miranda breathed out.
  
  A reason to smile came as Lou Ellen and Annabeth forced Perseus Jackson to take a lounge chair, and rest while they brought him plenty of super-energetic food and drinks.
  
  In a way, it was almost a relief to see Jackson was tired too by all this crazy stuff.
  
  On the other hand, given what was coming, being tired was not exactly reassuring.
  
  The equivalent of one litre of fruit juice was downed in record time, and the Champion of Calypso was summoned.
  
  "Dawn is close. I feel it." Perseus Jackson's red eye looked upwards as the daughter of Athena placed a bag of ice cubes on his forehead. "The main plan is still viable...with some adjustments. Report."
  
  "You lost five mercenaries in the Maze, since no one, not even Commodus' zoo-handlers, has been able to find out where the transformed Colonel Ross went. The news seemed to have displeased Ares in his cage. I mean, more usual."
  
  "Oh, well the God of War can-"
  
  Lou Ellen cleared her throat.
  
  "The God of War will have alas to tolerate the problematic disappearance of his favourite pet-killer," the son of Poseidon changed his words like a natural-born politician. "What else?"
  
  "Team Triumvirate lost two Legionnaires, so we're still ahead of them in terms of effectives, but the margin has been severely reduced. It's fifty-eight for us, fifty-five for them now."
  
  "We still have a neat advantage in firepower. One can't forget that twenty or so of theirs are the 'New Thespiades' that the Second Imperator can't afford to send against our ignoble host. This is quite a guarantee against a stab in the back."
  
  "A guarantee is never perfectly safe," Ethan Nakamura said grimly.
  
  "We have a truth," Perseus Jackson bared his teeth. "Given the conditions we found ourselves into, no one is going to swear anything on the Hell Sea. Enough of this for the moment. Let's speak of what matters: the Ninth Labour."
  
  Of all people, obviously it had Michael Yew, in his 'natural' Blue Hare form, who had to say everything he had inside his heart.
  
  "I think you made a mistake, Jackson. We're seeing Commodus preparing. He isn't going to descend alone into the arena! He-"
  
  "He is coming with Neo Diana, and ten Nemean Lionesses, yes."
  
  The stare the transformed son of Apollo was given remained inflexible.
  
  "You knew? You knew and-"
  
  "Michael," the self-proclaimed Tyrant rolled his eyes. "Given what the Suicide Squad did in the last two Labours, there is absolutely zero chance that Commodus would descend into the Maze alone to face us. If he did, I would check him one hundred times from our platform to make sure this is not an impostor."
  
  "Totally agree with you," Bianca di Angelo arrived, looking far better than she had been two hours ago. "He's a Narcissist Predator, not a Narcissist Moron. He has seen Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate unite several times. He has to assume that as long as his corpse isn't presented to the crowd, the truce we negotiated will hold."
  
  "Exactly," Luke nodded. "I would have preferred him to not be accompanied by the former Huntresses, personally. You can say something how Panther and her allies fell into the trap of the Third Labour, but they were quite strong in physical terms. Now that they're Nemean Lionesses, it's going to be hell to fight them, even if we can create situations where we have the numerical superiority."
  
  "Assume you won't have these situations," Perseus went through cubes of meat and appetisers like he hadn't eaten in several days.
  
  "You had some in the last Labours," the son of Hermes countered.
  
  "In the last Labours, we weren't dispersed randomly across the Maze the moment our ignoble host gave the signal to start. He wasn't risking his life before. This won't be the case anymore."
  
  "So he's going to cheat all the way, and more," Richard Grant grunted. "Please tell me that I can fight him. Please."
  
  Perseus drank more fruit juice...and grimaced.
  
  "Grant-"
  
  "Call me Richard. You can, since the number of times you failed to push me overboard, despite knowing I am far from your greatest fan."
  
  "Richard," Perseus spoke, and his shoulders slightly relaxed as if a burden had been lifted. "It's not like I doubt your courage, and I know you're one of the strongest Demigods of the Squad. You are a zero when it comes to sorcery, but when it comes to weapon skills and raw physical power, you are far stronger than Clarisse."
  
  Perseus' eyes narrowed and his voice decreased until it was a whisper, right as Lou Ellen Blackstone cast spells which were almost certainly meant to prevent hostile forces from listening to them.
  
  "I don't think you can beat him. Not alone. To be painfully honest, I think that in terms of brute force, only Asterius has what it takes to force a stalemate against Commodus for a few minutes. Anyone else who fights Commodus at close-quarters is going to be demolished in short order. That's why I thought about you, Miranda."
  
  In a way, this was very much a genuine compliment, and she was appropriately flattered.
  
  But.
  
  "Nemean Lions have phenomenal immunity to all poisons. It will take a lot of time for anything to have an effect."
  
  "Indeed." Perseus turned back his head to Richard Grant. "If it is what you desire, I formally give you the permission to descend into the Maze and face Commodus. But be aware that unless I have massively overestimated the Narcissist Predator, he is going to be on a different league than you. I recommend you take Miranda with you."
  
  "Why not-"
  
  Perseus didn't speak. The silence felt suddenly stronger than all the monologues of this world.
  
  "I will go with Grant, then. I am a Champion of the Third Hell Queen, I can't decently fail to leave an impression, can't I? Who else will participate in the Ninth Labour?"
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad chuckled, though it transformed into a cough soon enough. Trying to laugh at the same time you drank was kind of counter-indicated.
  
  "I would love to say all the strongest Demigods and Demigoddesses will go, but we've already so many exhausted lieutenants it wouldn't exactly be the truth. So we're going to stay simple. Kimiko will be the archer specialist. Rico and Skipper will go and accomplish a special mission which in my opinion they're uniquely suited for."
  
  "YES, BOSS!"
  
  "Anne, Luke, and Ethan," Perseus Jackson finished. "All of you have the sword or other weapon skills to hold your own against Commodus for a few minutes if you're unlucky enough to face him before Richard and Miranda arrive. I'm also sending three Telekhines; their primary role is to coordinate everyone for as long as possible."
  
  This was a perilous mission. No, this was more than that. The Labours of today had proven beyond doubt that Commodus did not hesitate eliminating everything that looked like a large threat when he became aware of it.
  
  "THE NINTH LABOUR IS ABOUT TO BEGIN! TEAM ADJUDICATOR AND TEAM TRIUMVIRATE HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO ANNOUNCE THEIR CHOSEN GLADIATORS!"
  
  "Once more into the breach," Ethan Nakamura said while taking a bottle from one of the waiters. "Hey, it's rum!"
  
  "Give me that," Perseus didn't wait in fact for the son of Nemesis, and levitated the container, before emptying it half of it in one go. "Ah, better."
  
  Miranda was sure she wasn't the only one gaping. Jackson avoided alcohol as best as he could.
  
  For him to violate the hell of this rule-
  
  The deep kiss he gave to Lou Ellen and Annabeth a few seconds after that were two more indications that the normal rules didn't apply anymore.
  
  "How crazy is the plan you've kept a secret?"
  
  "Oh, very," the mad Demigod drawled. "But you know what they say: il nous faut de l'audace, encore de l'audace, toujours de l'audace."
  
  "The French do not have exactly the best advice when it comes to strategy."
  
  "No," Perseus cackled, "but they declared war to all of Europe, and went on to fight them from the Pillars of Hercules to the snowy steppes of Moscow. Audacity will carry the day. Death to Commodus!"
  
  "DEATH TO COMMODUS!"
  
  26 January 2007, the Maze of the Ninth Labour, Commodus Coliseum
  
  Commodus was running out of time.
  
  The words were music to Richard's ears, he wasn't going to lie.
  
  They had bled and fought for so many days in this Great Quest, while the Narcissist Predator did nothing but laugh and mock the deaths of the gladiators.
  
  But now all of Commodus' ugly deeds were slammed back in his face.
  
  Everyone could feel it.
  
  The spectators had acknowledged it, at least in their heads. There were far more silent than they had ever been before. Though the massacre the Praetorians had committed in their pursuit of restoring order may have had a part to play too.
  
  But whether spectator or something else, everyone could count.
  
  It was the Ninth Labour, and there wasn't a chance to organise an event having more than twelve of them.
  
  Yes, Commodus was running out of time.
  
  Richard was far from a great strategist, but even he knew it wasn't just the madness unleashed during the Eighth Labour which had convinced Commodus to descend into the arena in person.
  
  The would-be Usurper had been humiliated, his plans were in tatters, and far worse for him, so far the number of girls he had raped was scandalously low.
  
  At this pace, Commodus wouldn't have his fifty Thespiades by the time the ritual reached its climax.
  
  Commodus was going to die as his own schemes blew up in his face.
  
  The list of choices available to that bastard was extremely limited as a result.
  
  The Narcissist Predator could try to bet that attrition would in the end manage to bleed the Suicide Squad and the Triumvirate so badly that in the end, they would have no choice but to send the 'Neo Thespiades' to fuel the ritual.
  
  Or he could challenge them in person, gambling that the most powerful heroes being eliminated in one blow was sufficient for his ultimate victory.
  
  For many people, it would have been hard to guess which option would be chosen.
  
  With Commodus, Richard and every member of the Suicide Squad had agreed the outcome was never in doubt.
  
  The Narcissist Predator was far too impatient to ever take the attrition path.
  
  "Suicide Squad," Perseus Jackson commanded, and wasn't it a sign of how important was that there was no joke or bad pun? "One step forwards, let us show the world who we are."
  
  They all obeyed automatically.
  
  The son of Hercules was honest; it wasn't exactly the sort of team he would have dreamed of months ago. Hell, it wasn't even the order of battle that would have been perfect before this bloodbath in the Coliseum started.
  
  Perseus Jackson. Miranda Gardiner, daughter of Demeter. Rico, Saboteur-Penguin. Skipper, Attack-Penguin. Anne Bonny, Reaper and second daughter of Demeter. Luke Castellan, thief-extraordinary. Ethan Nakamura, the second wing of Vengeance. Kimiko, cursed Huntress. And three huge Telekhines dabbling with a variety of devices. Himself.
  
  For all their attempts to mitigate the effects, the three first Labours, all fought in darkness, had taken a grievous toll in deaths and exhaustion.
  
  But now it was time to end this.
  
  Dawn was coming. They could all feel it. And when the sun would rise over the arena, it would be to celebrate the death of the Narcissist Usurper.
  
  Three seconds later, on their right, Mark Antony imitated them.
  
  Compared to the Suicide Squad, you couldn't help but think his team was almost normal.
  
  The man trying to usurp the God of War had chosen his lieutenants, Praetor Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo, accompanied by nine veteran Legionnaires.
  
  "AVE CAESAR! AVE IMPERATOR! AVE NEO HERCULES! THOSE ABOUT TO ASCEND SALUTE YOU!"
  
  At the other end of the Coliseum, the team of the Narcissist Predator was revealed.
  
  There were ten Nemean Lionesses, all transformed in their full feline form, which was as big as a Main Battle Tank.
  
  Then there was 'Neo Diana', armoured from head to feet in a silvery Cyber-Hoplite Armour.
  
  And of course, the evil bastard himself, the Narcissist Predator, the Emperor-Usurper.
  
  "LET THE NINTH LABOUR OF THE GAMES OF NEO HERCULES BEGIN!"
  
  It was all as if a hook had seized them by the navel and decided to send them through the most disorienting trial in existence. It was if they had been thrown into some kind of infernal spinning top.
  
  It felt like it lasted hours, and Richard Grant was not so shameless as to refuse to say he emptied most of his stomach.
  
  By the time he landed, his head was having a lot of problems, and the rest applied to his body.
  
  Of course, one second later, the son of Hercules realised this was nothing compared to a far more titanic problem.
  
  The Cyber-Hoplite Armour had somehow had its energy reserves at zero! This should be impossible, he had checked-
  
  "Commodus, you bastard!"
  
  It took overall two minutes to free himself, because naturally, as their illustrious had predicted, Richard was perfectly alone in the Labyrinth with no one to help.
  
  "There's a minor consolation in the fact neither him nor the penguins had Cyber-Hoplite Armours for this one."
  
  However, the near-adult Demigod couldn't help but replay the image of Commodus grinning in his Nemean Lion suit. Yeah Commodus' team, save his 'Neo Diana', hadn't used those at any time.
  
  It had been a trap all along, hey?
  
  Commodus couldn't brainwash them as long as they didn't use the 'Advanced Mode' of the helmets, but he sure as hell could cut them the power, making the Cyber-Hoplite Armours a large burden.
  
  "ROAR!"
  
  A Nemean Lioness came at the next corner of the Maze.
  
  Richard wasn't stupid. He ran.
  
  Alone and unsupported, with only a single sword and nothing else, pride could be forgotten for long minutes. Richard wasn't his father, and even if somehow he thought that he could equal him, the Nemean Lioness' defeat was not one of his goals.
  
  It took only a few seconds for Richard to realise the giant feline who may have been a former Huntress was toying with him.
  
  The reason why was evident as within thirty seconds, Richard's feet led him to the central arena in record time.
  
  And he wasn't the first to arrive to confront Commodus.
  
  Two Legionnaires of the Triumvirate had already preceded him...and their blood had darkened the white sands that had been poured specially for this Labour.
  
  But what made Richard's eyes widen in panic was not the corpses of the Legionnaires, but the identity of Commodus' current opponent.
  
  For this one was a member of the Suicide Squad...and things had gone very badly indeed.
  
  "Well, well, well..." Commodus was gloating, his right hand slowly strangling Anne Bonny, despite the desperate efforts of the female pirate to free herself. "What do we have here? Another virgin!"
  
  "I have had sex with plenty of people before," the daughter of Demeter managed to protest as the Narcissist Predator lifted her in the air like she weighted nothing.
  
  "But only with women," Commodus chuckled. "Well, a virgin is a virgin!"
  
  Some sort of fell magic began to coalesce, and it was visible like a sort of oily golden tide which was going to swallow Anne Bonny whole.
  
  Richard instinctively knew that he wasn't going to make it in time.
  
  He was too far away, and without some kind of speed-booster, there wasn't any way a Demigod could cross two-thirds of the arena.
  
  He threw his cyber-sword.
  
  It was hardly his most perfect throw, but it did the job.
  
  The blade impaled the arm of the Narcissist Predator, and it was a sufficient distraction not just to let Anne Bonny get free, but also disrupt this abominable ritual.
  
  "I am going to make of you an example one will never forget, Demigod."
  
  Richard ignored him and began to run, hoping-
  
  He stopped as Commodus removed the cyber-sword from his arm like it was no big deal.
  
  And the wound, while it slightly bled, mended itself in a couple of seconds.
  
  What the hell?
  
  "Nice try," the Usurper gloated. "But did you really think that, I, the glorious Neo Hercules, was going to give you weapons that might have the ability to injure me or the things necessary for my Ascension?"
  
  The son of the God of Strength didn't reply.
  
  Commodus was a megalomaniac and a psychopath; showing how troubled he was by the whole thing would only give him pleasure.
  
  At least Jackson had been completely right; Commodus was far too strong for him, and he had cheated outrageously to make things worse than they should be.
  
  That said, things weren't completely desperate. Yeah, Miranda wasn't here, and he had no weapons worth the name.
  
  But Commodus was alone.
  
  The Nemean Lionesses weren't here; some must play the role of huntresses to push the gladiators towards the arena.
  
  Commodus was alone.
  
  Richard clenched his fists, and summoned all his strength.
  
  "Anne. Get out of here."
  
  "You can't fight him alone!"
  
  "Yes," Commodus gloated. "Listen to your little virgin friend, Demigod. You can't fight me alone. I am the glorious Neo Hercules! I am so powerful you are a mere gnat compared to me!"
  
  "Let's see if this arrogance is justified."
  
  Richard rushed at his enemy.
  
  The bastard waited without moving, raised his fists to parry his blows-
  
  And was utterly surprised when Richard used his left foot to deliver a terribly powerful blow.
  
  The few cheers of the public died down.
  
  Commodus was thrown on the white sands, his face a painting of hatred and surprise.
  
  "Oh my mistake, Imperator," he sarcastically mocked his momentarily-downed opponent. "Did my file fail to mention I was taking taekwondo lessons?"
  
  Commodus rose again.
  
  His jaw looked like it had taken some damage, and when he spat, this time there was a serious amount of blood dots to add to the vitae of the dead Legionnaires.
  
  "I will crucify you for this, Demigod. I will reserve you the fate all proper Romans gave to the slaves who dared rise against the glory of Rome. I AM NEO HERCULES!"
  
  This time, all frivolity and arrogance were nowhere to be seen.
  
  Commodus charged, and damn, the Narcissist was fast.
  
  It didn't stop Richard from punching him, and he was really sure he did something bad to Commodus' nose!
  
  This joy didn't last long, because Commodus' first good punch he didn't avoid hurt like it had been an elephant striking him.
  
  The second hurt even more.
  
  The third punch sent him flying.
  
  Richard fought against the pain, and yet he still struggled to do something more than crawling.
  
  Damn it, he had hit the Usurper with what? Seven or eight serious punches, and the bastard didn't even look slightly inconvenienced, despite the nose bleeding!
  
  "You don't stand a chance against me," but this time, the arrogance was almost inexistent; Richard knew just by glancing at Commodus' eyes that he had gained the hatred of the Narcissist Predator. "You, girl, get away from him!"
  
  "You don't give me orders, rapist," Anne Bonny was here by his side, and taking his arm to help him stand.
  
  "I am your future Dominant," Commodus bared teeth that were no longer pristine or perfect. His first taekwondo attack had knocked out two of them, it seemed. "Soon you will call me Master, and-"
  
  The eyes of Commodus suddenly turned into a complete different direction.
  
  His visage seemed to lose most of the colour it had too.
  
  "NO! NO, THIS CAN'T BE! LET THE PIT DEVOUR THIS SON OF POSEIDON! I WILL TEAR HIM APART FOR THIS CRIME AGAINST MY DIVINE AUTHORITY!"
  
  Commodus...Commodus began to run away from them.
  
  Commodus was so afraid that he was running to stop whatever had just happened.
  
  "Well..." Richard gritted his teeth against the pain. "You can say many things about Jackson's diversions, but they really tend to annoy our enemies."
  
  Panther had been given orders.
  
  Obviously, since the orders came from Commodus directly, the former Huntress hated them with a passion.
  
  There was a lot of irony in this.
  
  Why? Because once upon a time, Panther would have seen nothing wrong about them.
  
  First, she was to protect the 'Mistress', aka Neo Diana.
  
  Second, she was to kill every male that crossed her path in the Maze.
  
  Third, the Nemean Lioness was to disarm the sole and only girl among the teams who qualified as a Thespiades, Kimiko, one of her former sisters.
  
  Under no circumstances was she to hurt the Huntress who was still part of the Suicide Squad. All she needed to do was to disarm her, and then make sure there was no escape for her until her 'Master' arrived.
  
  The way these orders had been phrased had suddenly made her wonder how bad her previous behaviour was.
  
  Assuredly, Lady Artemis would have never ordered her to guard someone until a rapist arrived to abuse a young woman.
  
  And the Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon didn't need her protection. Lady Artemis hunted with the Huntresses because she enjoyed their company, not because she needed to be protected.
  
  But they had 'protected' young girls from other males in the past, removing them from their families. And Panther couldn't help but think that yes, she had definitely killed plenty of males in the last couple of years.
  
  The thoughts weren't exactly pleasing now.
  
  And as her sisters of the pride thought the same, the telepathic bond was clearly a curse right now.
  
  It was a curse.
  
  And there was nothing she could do about it.
  
  Panther sheathed her long claws again.
  
  The shark face of the Telekhine she had just faced continued to give her an accusing glare.
  
  'This is your fault' the monster was continuing to stick his tongue out metaphorically beyond the grave.
  
  Gods, how stupid they had been to believe the Third Labour was a sure victory! It had been the 'easy mode' compared to everything that had come after the Fifth Labour, and the easy mode had still been their doom.
  
  "Enemy," Neo Diana warned her, and Panther took position.
  
  Who was it going to be this time? Maybe it was going to be Miranda Gardiner. The daughter of-
  
  Oh, no.
  
  "Welcome, future member of the Thespiades," the song had just begun, but it was enthralling and powerful.
  
  "I am not, and I will never be a member of the Thespiades," Kimiko stepped forwards, discarding her cyber-sword.
  
  "You do not have a choice! Learn the joys of the pride! Sing with me!" Neo Diana was clearly sweating. Panther thought it may have to do something with the two new additions to their ranks during the Sixth Labour. The skin of the 'Caesarea' had been more flamboyant by the end of it, more silvery-
  
  "No."
  
  Panther was sure her maw was wide open right now.
  
  True, it wasn't completely impossible to fight against the Charm-song.
  
  Ellen and Jenna had done it before.
  
  But the two Huntresses had needed some pain to disrupt the enthralling power of the song.
  
  And they had been far away from the voice.
  
  More importantly, Ellen and Jenna had been only two out of eighteen girls to be targeted.
  
  Here, Kimiko was alone, and she certainly had no enchantment.
  
  "You can't...why don't you recognise the majesty of my music? Listen to my song!"
  
  This shouldn't be possible; Neo Diana was right on that point.
  
  Yes, Clarisse La Rue had managed to smuggle an electric spear, but it was because cyber-spears were on the list of authorised weapons, and distinguishing a special spear from another was hard.
  
  But surely, if there had been a powerful artefact to counter Charm-song, the Praetorians would have countered it!
  
  "No, I don't believe I will."
  
  And Kimiko stuck out her tongue, revealing...it had been pierced, by what appeared to be a piercing.
  
  It shone like gold, and Panther couldn't help but think that it was far, far more than a simple ring.
  
  "What have you done to yourself?" Neo Diana asked aghast. "You marked your soul with-"
  
  "It's far better than being raped by a psychopath who also happens to be a Narcissist Predator," Kimiko countered, before doing something with her teeth, and suddenly, she spat out a small jewel that burned in purple colour.
  
  "Your Goddess will abandon you. You know she will see it as a betrayal."
  
  Kimiko shrugged, clearly unafraid.
  
  "If she does, she does. Perseus Jackson fulfilled more promises in a day than she did in the last decades."
  
  "I...it won't protect you from Neo Hercules' wrath."
  
  "Ha! But it isn't this rapist I am facing now, am I?" The Asian-born Huntress stuck out her tongue for the second time, though this time she revealed the phenomenal length of the blue-coloured appendage. "I am facing you."
  
  "And I have a mighty guardian, in the form of one of your former sisters!"
  
  "Yes, you have. But she was given a command to disarm me, while waiting for the bastard she was enslaved to, doesn't she?"
  
  The silver-armoured Demigoddess suddenly acknowledged the scale of her mistake.
  
  Kimiko was already disarmed, courtesy of not having any weapon visible on her. She was alone, with no males to represent a threat.
  
  She couldn't be hurt, for she was one of the future Thespiades.
  
  "Panther will still protect me if you try to injure me."
  
  "Oh, but I am not going to hurt you..." Kimiko must have taken lessons from Jackson, because her grin was evil. "I just want you to remember."
  
  Kimiko was so fast that Panther's eyes were almost unable to follow.
  
  But as incredible the speed, a Nemean Lioness' reflexes were sharp.
  
  Not sharp enough to prevent her former sister from forcing Neo Diana to swallow the purple-burning gemstone that had just been revealed.
  
  The Nemean Lioness gave her a small shove, which still sent her metres away.
  
  The eyes of Neo Diana stared unblinking for a few seconds, and then she began to scream like the Furies were after her.
  
  "On the other hand, all your memories returning to you all at once," Kimiko chuckled. "I'm sure this is going to be very painful in your head. I still don't know how Jackson was able to bargain with the Lethe for your memories, but this moment alone tells me it was worth it."
  
  Panther didn't attack. There were orders not to...and suddenly, she was feeling Commodus' delicious fear spreading all across the arena.
  
  'Neo Hercules' hadn't seen it coming...and Panther Kowalski enjoyed very much the way his plans were tethering at the very edge of the Pit.
  
  She was Neo Diana, yet she was not.
  
  She was a singer.
  
  That much had been true.
  
  It hurt.
  
  It hurt every thought.
  
  Why did it hurt so much?
  
  Ignorance had been a blessing!
  
  It hurt so much!
  
  She was Neo Diana, except she was not.
  
  Neo Diana was an invention, the sadistic dream of someone who wasn't her.
  
  Yet she had been transforming into it, one spark of power after another.
  
  She was not-
  
  She thought she heard screams. After a few seconds, she realised it was her throat doing the screaming.
  
  Why wouldn't it?
  
  It hurt so much.
  
  She was seeing the figures get closer, more recognisable.
  
  She remembered the Pact sworn now...drinking the Lethe, losing her memories...but...but some things had been different.
  
  She had fulfilled her part of the Pact. But Neo Hercules had not truly fulfilled his.
  
  She could see it now.
  
  He wanted Neo Diana, his creation. He wanted nothing else that could prove the girl she was to have ever existed.
  
  In time, her father would be eliminated.
  
  Her family would be erased like it had never existed.
  
  She opened her eyes.
  
  He was here.
  
  "You lied to me."
  
  "Calm yourself, Neo Diana." Neo...no, the Narcissist Predator proclaimed.
  
  "I am not going to calm down...rapist."
  
  "NEO. DIANA." He was not a God. He had never been a God. It was all a lie, and she had fallen for his blackmail.
  
  Never again.
  
  "I AM NOT NEO DIANA! I AM PIPER MCLEAN, DAUGHTER OF TRISTAN MCLEAN AND VENUS, AND I WILL NEVER BE YOUR SLAVE!"
  
  Kimiko laughed.
  
  Yes, she was still cursed.
  
  Yes, what she had done to her soul was likely to get her banished from the Hunt.
  
  Yes, many things had not gone according to the plan, for Commodus had not been supposed to appear so fast.
  
  But honestly?
  
  The expression of horror as the Narcissist Predator was called a rapist, before the Demigoddess denied him and proclaimed her true heritage?
  
  It was worth all the oaths of allegiance in the world.
  
  Kimiko laughed so hard she almost missed Commodus towering over her.
  
  "YOU! YOU! YOU DID THIS!"
  
  "In all humility," the black-haired Huntress hesitated, before deciding that at that point, she might as well go all-out. "You need to thank Perseus Jackson for a great part of this plan. Me? I was just the messenger girl. Perseus knew you wouldn't get him anywhere near your 'Neo Diana'. But a girl you wanted to rape? Oh yeah, you were so arrogant and overconfident that the vulnerability existed. And instead of giving her an escort of Praetorians, obviously you were going to send the Nemean Lionesses you enslaved."
  
  Kimiko laughed again.
  
  "And it worked! You, Neo Hercules, have just created your worst enemy! You did it just by being yourself! Congratulations, oh Imperator! Tell me, how does it feel to lose?"
  
  The punch was so powerful it felt like Death itself.
  
  She lost consciousness momentarily.
  
  When she awoke again, everything was torment and pain.
  
  Was she-
  
  No, she wasn't enslaved, this wasn't the pain of-
  
  "Calm yourself, Kimiko. You're severely injured."
  
  She knew the voice. She knew that voice!
  
  "Jackson. Jackson, I am-"
  
  "Shh...I'm afraid you're very badly injured. And honestly, what possessed you from taunting Commodus? I thought it was my job!"
  
  Kimiko giggled...or tried to. It hurt so much.
  
  "I...this felt good. It felt good...sweet Nemesis...we all had our vengeance."
  
  Even the pain wasn't enough to make her believe otherwise.
  
  "Will...will I..."
  
  "No, you're not going to die. But you're going to feel it for many, many weeks. And there will be a price to pay. Ethan! Quick!"
  
  Someone carried her bridal style.
  
  Kimiko was losing consciousness again, her body was unable to endure the strain.
  
  But the she heard the next words.
  
  "Now, Commodus, I believe it is time to discuss your permanent removal as a High Judge."
  
  Perseus gave a last glance to Kimiko, unconscious in Ethan's arms as the son of Nemesis escaped carrying her bridal-style.
  
  Few things were certain this sinful world, but the former Tyrant didn't doubt for a single second that if he had not given the Ring of Sloth to Kimiko, she would be currently on her way to meet Hades.
  
  Commodus' blow had pulverised her.
  
  "So the great and insane Perseus Jackson cares about his followers! How amusing..."
  
  "Commodus," the Lord of the Suicide Squad controlled his voice, but he was sure there must have been some loathing injected into the odious name. "You have my formal permission to beg for your life."
  
  Naturally, the idiot's arrogance was once again his undoing.
  
  "To beg for my life? Are sure you should not look into a mirror? Oh wait, you have none! Let me describe you in a precise manner your deplorable situation, Perseus Jackson! I have twelve Nemean Lionesses surrounding you now, and more are coming! Once I give the order, they will tear you apart!"
  
  There had been people who were absolutely horrible strategists in his previous life. In hindsight, they had all been clearly incredibly gifted as long as the mark to beat was Commodus.
  
  "I am not the one who began a faulty ritual that is slowly killing all those who were supposed to become Gods."
  
  Clearly, the brown-silver-haired Demigoddess didn't enjoy hearing that sort of news at all.
  
  "The burning...you mean this is not normal?"
  
  "IT IS NORMAL!" Dear public, would you confirm the delusion levels were off the chart? "HE IS TRYING TO SEED DOUBT IN EVERYONE'S MIND! HE LIES!"
  
  "Why would I, when the truth hurts so much more?" Perseus snorted before turning again to face Piper McLean. "He didn't prepare your body as he should have, dear. To become a Goddess, the very minimum for a young Demigoddess like you should be a bath in the Styx, or swimming in Drakon's blood and absorbing its power. Drinking from the Lethe River and doing a few more pathetic tricks? No, sorry, it was never going to work!"
  
  "Why I am not surprised?" the Demigoddess reacted as...well, she reacted. "Clearly he's as evil as he is incompetent."
  
  "OOOOOOOHHHH!" Okay, the spectators had decided to participate in this extraordinary event. And Commodus hadn't friends anymore out there, if the noise was any indication.
  
  "It doesn't matter," Commodus was so red the level of 'absolute rage' was about to be reached. "It doesn't matter." Yes, buddy, you could try to convince everyone about that. "I am going to kill you, Perseus Jackson. You are exhausted from your previous Labours. Otherwise, you would have arrived faster to save your friends, or create better diversions. You do not have the strength to fight my Nemean Lionesses!"
  
  "It's...kind of true, I guess." Perseus shrugged and then presented a large grin. "But fortunately for me, I realised at one point I may need something to give me a good chance of winning. Something that would certainly keep a few Nemean Lionesses busy while I deal with you."
  
  "And you didn't find it."
  
  "On the contrary, my ignoble host, I did. I am the Champion of Love. And for the record, I have my girlfriends' permission for what I'm about to do."
  
  Perseus moved.
  
  One Nemean Lioness reacted, but far too late.
  
  "I call upon Love! By three, I called, by three I released Lust upon this Coliseum!"
  
  And Perseus kissed deeply the daughter of Venus.
  
  Yes, on the lips and everything.
  
  He kissed Piper McLean for long seconds, and if the sounds of the throat of the Demigoddess were any judge, the training was paying off in that regard.
  
  The Nemean Lionesses couldn't hit him without harming their 'Mistress'.
  
  Of course, the moment he stopped kissing, there was hell to pay.
  
  SLAP!
  
  "THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS, YOU BASTARD!"
  
  Let it be noted that daughters of Venus had some strength in their arms when they felt provoked.
  
  "Ha!" Commodus intervened. "Well, it didn't work."
  
  "Wrong. It did."
  
  Commodus' red face turned as livid as a corpse in three seconds top.
  
  In all fairness, there was a good reason to.
  
  When a six metres-tall Goddess glared at you murderously, it tended to be a bit worrying. True, said Goddess had come in a cocktail robe of crimson shade, not in armour, but one couldn't doubt she could incinerate you with a click of fingers.
  
  "Lady Venus," Perseus bowed.
  
  "Perseus Jackson," the blue eyes had plenty of amusement in them. "It seems you fulfilled your part of our accords."
  
  There were times, when it was better to shut up.
  
  Venus sighed.
  
  "I will fulfil mine."
  
  A red wave washed over the entire arena where they were currently standing, and it trapped the Nemean Lionesses within great cages brimming with red-pink power.
  
  "Piper."
  
  "Mother?"
  
  "You've grown so much." You could doubt many things at some moment, but not the intensity of the love of the Goddess for the child she had sired with the Hollywood superstar.
  
  "Mother...why did you...why now? Why, after so many years?"
  
  "I'm sorry, dear. The Ancient Laws...no, that's not an excuse, is it? I couldn't make the right choice. I'm sorry."
  
  "But..."
  
  "Your father is fine. The agents of this Narcissist Liar...have been dealt with. He is back at your home." Venus frowned. "But before that, you have a choice to make. Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "Lady Goddess?"
  
  The next second, it was like something had been branded with a lava-hot piece of metal upon his heart.
  
  "Three Wives, and seventeen Lovers," the Goddess of Lustful Love told him imperiously as his insides felt like they were melting. "You will have this in Love and Lust; I leave it to you to decide if it is a blessing or a curse."
  
  It couldn't have lasted more than twelve seconds when it ended. It was...interesting. He felt both stronger and weaker at the same time.
  
  Weaker deep in his soul, but he was quite reinvigorated physically?
  
  An interesting dilemma, wasn't it?
  
  "Accept the ritual, my daughter. It offers you far greater chances of happiness than you will have otherwise. Farewell, Piper."
  
  "MOTHER!"
  
  But the pink-red explosion of divine power resonated a heartbeat later.
  
  Venus was gone before one could have the time to blink again.
  
  Obviously, this had not been enough to paralyse Commodus for a few more seconds.
  
  Despite the floor of the Coliseum being now saturated with the power of an Olympian, the Narcissist Predator had once again a powerful smirk on his face.
  
  "HA! HA! HA! She couldn't touch me! You see! Not even an Olympian will dare to raise a finger against my glorious persona! I AM NEO HERCULES!"
  
  "You're a dangerous psychopath and narcissist," Perseus replied. "And I think it is great time we remove the threat you represent."
  
  "You couldn't strike a decisive blow when you had a Goddess by your side, what hope do you have now?"
  
  Oh, by all the tenets of villainy! The imbecile had just asked for it.
  
  "I'm so glad you asked this question, Commodus."
  
  The former Tyrant drew a simple card from his pocket and look upwards.
  
  Dawn was here.
  
  The red touches of light were illuminating the sky.
  
  "BEHOLD MY SECRET INVINCIBLE WEAPON! I CAST THE REVERSO UNO RITUAL!"
  
  Commodus began to laugh...and it finished with an awful scream, as plants went on to attack his legs and paralyse him.
  
  Then the intensity of the 'protest' was multiplied by ten times, as doves flew over their heads.
  
  Venus' power was answering to his will, and the ritual's first step was secure.
  
  "NO! WHAT IS HAPPENING!"
  
  "I am draining your power, in my capacity as Adjudicator of Love and by the will of Venus," Perseus explained calmly. "Evidently, it wouldn't work if you, Commodus, felt right now some love for a single person in the world that is not yourself, but apparently, my gamble on this fact fell on the right side."
  
  It wouldn't work without a Goddess backing him. It wouldn't have worked without the Rule of Three. Yes, you could marvel at how complicated it had been to put all the pieces in the correct position at the right time.
  
  "YOU...YOU CAN'T! YOU ARE NOT NEO HERCULES! YOU DON'T FEEL ANYTHING FOR THE GLORIOUS ANIMAL THAT IS THE NEMEAN LION!"
  
  "Much as I hate to admit it...you're completely correct. But that's why you are not the only one I am draining of unwanted power."
  
  Piper McLean had fallen on her knees, as the river of silver power flowed out of her.
  
  As the ritual continued, all the recent alterations to her young body disappeared. The small horns which had been growing out vanished. Her skin lost all the silvery colour, replaced by light chocolate skin that indicated her Cherokee inheritance.
  
  "It...it continues to burn." The Demigoddess managed to articulate.
  
  "I know."
  
  To be honest, it had been kind of inevitable. Twenty Thespiades and several days of ritual were not cancelled with an 'Abracadabra!' and removing a rabbit from a large hat.
  
  And she had it far better than Commodus: the evil Emperor screamed a lot as the divine power he had accumulated was removed from his body.
  
  "This is why offer you a choice, Piper McLean."
  
  Within the next twelve seconds, the draining was over. The Goddess of Love had played her part; otherwise the colossal effort would assuredly have sent him in a coma.
  
  There were now two great orbs of power, one gold, one silver, levitating in the very middle of the space separating Commodus from the daughter of Venus.
  
  "I...what is going to happen if I refuse?" The girl was clearly very smart. She understood the final process was never going to be reversed again. It was irreversible, for good or ill.
  
  "You will stay human." Perseus admitted truthfully. "You will be a Demigoddess of significant power. But the sensation of burning that you feel right now? It will be diminished, but the more you will use your Charm-song and the rest of your abilities...the worse it will feel for you and your soul."
  
  She hesitated.
  
  Perseus couldn't exactly blame her for it.
  
  "I...I will take the power."
  
  "NO! IT IS MINE, I REFUSE-"
  
  "Shut up," Perseus ordered.
  
  Commodus shut up.
  
  "I've waited many days to do that!" the Tyrant of the Suicide Squad chuckled. "Now rise, Piper McLean."
  
  The Demigoddess obeyed in a hurry, her eyes having some evident combativeness in them.
  
  Good. She would need them in the days to come.
  
  The golden orb flew towards him.
  
  "I AM PERSEUS JACKSON! AND I CALL DAWN TO ME!"
  
  The skies went from a soft touch of red to an immense inferno.
  
  The golden orb that had been the power of Commodus minutes ago was utterly changed.
  
  The monochrome and near-unnatural gold faded, devoured by a pink-red shade that soon became entirely blood red.
  
  Perseus gave Piper McLean an apologetic look.
  
  Then the next second he plunged the orb straight in her chest.
  
  "I CROWN YOU NEO EOS AND CLAIMANT OF THE THRONE OF DAWN! LONG LIVE THE QUEEN! GODDESS OF AURORA! THE NEMEAN LIONESS REBORN!"
  
  Piper McLean let out a moan...then, of course, she screamed.
  
  Yes, it was a reason why no one truly sane would go for it deliberately. Then again, Piper McLean had been desperate enough to stop being incinerated body and soul. It was a good reason too.
  
  In the end...
  
  The Demigoddess changed.
  
  It was something worth remembering.
  
  It took about a minute.
  
  The Cyber-Hoplite Armour obviously melted before being utterly disintegrated.
  
  All her clothes burned.
  
  Second after second, power filled the void. It wasn't a full apotheosis. Commodus had not had that much power. But it was a lot.
  
  There was enough to fulfil an important transformation.
  
  A transformation into a Nemean Lioness.
  
  A very impressive transformation.
  
  Panther Kowalski and all the others were bigger than many, many cars invented by humankind.
  
  The new feline form of Piper McLean was twice the size of the bigger ex-Huntress.
  
  She was a very impressive specimen of Nemean Lioness.
  
  Well, she was a crimson Nemean Lioness.
  
  But then all the other 'Neo Thespiades' were taking that colour too.
  
  And at last, all good things came to an end.
  
  "Thank you, Perseus Jackson. Thank you for...everything."
  
  The new divine claimant roared, and the other Nemean Lionesses answered her.
  
  Piper McLean jumped away, and her twenty new followers raced to follow her.
  
  "It was my pleasure, dear. Always."
  
  26 January 2007, the Throne-Lodge of the Coliseum
  
  All the Labours of this Great Quest could be described as legendary.
  
  But this last one...Dionysus could tell it was going to beat all of them effortlessly.
  
  Even Prometheus was taken aback! If that wasn't saying something about how incredible everything had been...
  
  Using three calls to Love to summon Venus had been a stroke of genius. And the best part? During the Clash of Titans, Perseus had done the same thing with Isis! They should all have seen it coming.
  
  But they had not.
  
  Not in time.
  
  Assuredly, no other Demigod could have achieved something like that.
  
  It was worthy of a genius.
  
  It also was utterly crazy.
  
  Dionysus emptied another barrel and returned to the ritual.
  
  It wasn't over, after all.
  
  The Nemean Lionesses had run away, but the orb imbued with all the power of the Moon was still there.
  
  And then something absolutely incredible happened.
  
  Commodus begged.
  
  Commodus begged, right as many reinforcements of Team Triumvirate and Adjudicator arrived.
  
  "Perseus Jackson...please...please..."
  
  A lot of people would have had difficulties recognising the 'glorious Neo Hercules' of one hour ago.
  
  Oh, Commodus was still extremely muscled, and his facial traits hadn't changed.
  
  But all the imperfections that had been erased by his powers, the golden hue, the inhuman charisma...every little bit of that was gone.
  
  One couldn't help but see scars on the arms and the legs. There were several pimples here and there. The beard was unkempt; it looked like someone had dared a goat to munch at it.
  
  The Nemean Lion suit was looking like a third-hand rag, all its powers removed.
  
  "So in the end, you can properly beg..."
  
  "Please! Without divine power, I will be-"
  
  "You will be of no use to your 'ally' Prometheus, never mind anyone you borrowed resources and money from," Perseus Jackson finished, as the orb of silver light levitated towards his hand. "Do you doubt the power of the REVERSO UNO ritual anymore, Commodus?"
  
  "No! No, I won't doubt anymore, Jackson! Please!"
  
  "Well, I am very pleased to confirm that you can beg very nicely." The son of Poseidon grinned. "I am Perseus Jackson. This Power I return to the Moon! Receive my gift, Diana!"
  
  There was an incredibly bright flash of silver, and when it faded, Perseus Jackson looked absolutely fine, though his hand may have been slightly burned...again.
  
  The orb of silver was nowhere in sight...though far on the horizon, almost invisible, the Moon looked it had regained some of its legendary radiance.
  
  Dionysus could read on the lips, so he caught the soundless message.
  
  Let it not be said that I didn't help your daughter, oh Jupiter.
  
  The God of Wine winced.
  
  It was-
  
  Yeah, Perseus Jackson had definitely marked a point there. Artemis' anger wouldn't matter anymore; after this action, there was no way the Council would vote for the execution of Poseidon's son.
  
  All ended well, and everything-
  
  "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
  
  Ah yes. Everything ended well, except for Commodus.
  
  "DO YOU REALISE WHAT YOU'VE DONE? WITHOUT THIS POWER-"
  
  "You're useless."
  
  "Yes! I mean, no! No, I am not-"
  
  "Yes, you are."
  
  The crowds began to laugh at the completely ridiculous exchange between Emperor and Demigod.
  
  "I begged you! I urged you not to do it!"
  
  For the first time, hatred truly became visible on Perseus Jackson's face.
  
  "Have you really forgotten all the atrocities, the insults, the crimes, the rapes and every abominable deed you committed on your own will, Commodus? Because I assure you, I have not."
  
  The ritual was over.
  
  The pink-red divine power of Venus was dying down.
  
  "You gave us reinforcements, but you always intended most of them to betray us, and the others to lead us to our doom because we would be unable to unite! You sent us against monsters that even the great Hercules himself never faced when he was young! You raped, you lied, and you stabbed us in the back at every opportunity!" Perseus Jackson raged, before a twisted grin appeared on his lips. "I suppose I could thank you for proving that we could indeed make a truce and join forces with the Triumvirate, but this was never your goal, was it?"
  
  Jackson muttered a word.
  
  A sword flew in his hand. It was not one of the 'Cyber-Swords'. No, this one was made of Stygian Iron.
  
  "I am the HIGH JUDGE! You are the Captain of Team Adjudicator! You don't have...you can't touch me! Not as long as I don't attack you! And I didn't raise any weapon right now! Yes, I threatened you, but all the Nemean Lionesses are gone!"
  
  "Unfortunately, you're right." Perseus conceded with a frown. "That said..."
  
  The smile he gave to the no-longer-powerful Emperor was very malicious.
  
  "Well, it only applies to the Captains of the gladiator teams."
  
  The sword was thrown to the son of Hercules, the boy who had required the help of Miranda Gardiner and Ann Bonny to reach the ritual grounds.
  
  Richard Grant grabbed the sword and gave his leader a single nod.
  
  "Make it slow, please, my lieutenant. The Gods know he deserve it."
  
  "With pleasure," the Demigod grunted.
  
  "NO! PLEASE! I HAVE A LOT OF TREASURE! I HAVE A FORTUNE! I CAN-"
  
  "Shut up."
  
  The mouth of the Emperor was forcefully closed, ending the begging.
  
  "What he said," the daughters of Demeter said together.
  
  "We don't want anything from you, Commodus," Marcus Antonius declared.
  
  "We just want you to die."
  
  A lot of swords were drawn.
  
  Then the butchery began properly.
  
  The first thing to be cut was everything between the legs, which was fitting punishment indeed for a rapist.
  
  It didn't end there.
  
  After a few seconds, Jackson let the power of the Charmspeak go away.
  
  Dionysus had to admit it was truly about making a point there.
  
  One could just hope the children of the divine world were not watching that.
  
  The shrieking of Commodus was extremely loud.
  
  But then he had excellent reasons to be very loud.
  
  Richard Grant and plenty of others were busy ensuring he had no more legs and no more arms to torment the world ever again.
  
  "For once, one can say this Narcissist Predator really did his worst to deserve this awful ending." Antaeus commented drily.
  
  26 January 2007, the Entrance Platform of Team Adjudicator, the Coliseum
  
  One of the problems when you were mortal and not a deity, one that was only discovered on the field, was that there was a limit to how many incredibly unlikely things your brain could tolerate before it simply shut down.
  
  Then there was Perseus Jackson.
  
  Did Hera need to say more than that?
  
  "So let me recap everything," Leo Valdez spluttered, looking as lost as she was. "There wasn't a ritual to free the former Huntresses or stop what was to come, so our mad leader invented one. First, he called the Goddess of Love three time by virtue of his curse, despite well...that it was a curse, not a mobile phone or something that should be used to call someone. Then he used it to power his ritual somewhat. And the ritual? He based it on one mortal card game that certainly no one ever thought to play in such circumstances. Do I have everything right?"
  
  "Yeah," Elvis Knight shook his head, clearly trying to discover what kind of hallucinogen substance he had drunk several hours ago. "Yeah, I think you've said everything...okay, no. There's also the point Jackson kissed the daughter of Venus right in front of her mother, and wasn't disintegrated for the audacity of it. Or that Lou Ellen didn't kill him on the spot."
  
  "Perseus," the daughter of Hecate purred, "had warned me that it was one of the contingencies that had the strongest odds of success in order to engineer a success in the Ninth Labour, and the elimination of Commodus. Given the goals, I gave him my permission to do it."
  
  "And he eliminated him, all right." Bianca di Angelo commented drily. "Seriously, he should have employed crucifixion. It takes far longer, and it is far less...messy."
  
  'Messy'.
  
  The Lightning Thief had a gift of understatements.
  
  Commodus was-
  
  Had you heard of the expression 'they cut him in a thousand pieces'?
  
  No?
  
  Well, Hera was proud to inform you it was going to be a thing.
  
  Grant had led by enthusiasm, but Miranda, Anne, and all of Team Triumvirate minus Mark Antony had followed.
  
  They had butchered Commodus.
  
  There was no other expression for it.
  
  First, they had made him a eunuch. Once that had been done, the limbs had been severed and divided into many, many smaller pieces. The nose, already been broken, had been removed. So had the tongue.
  
  After that, the real butchery had begun.
  
  And yes, Commodus had been conscious and screaming the whole time.
  
  It hadn't lasted very long, but Gods, it had been satisfying.
  
  "Dionysus has proclaimed it is a shared victory." Drew said, her fingers playing with her black hair. "I believe it is his last insult for the Narcissist Predator."
  
  "You may very well be right," Jade replied. "On the other hand, it's technically true. Yeah, Perseus did the majority of the work, but everyone but the Captains participating in slaying the Narcissist Predator. And if it hadn't been against the rules, Perseus and Mark Antony would have joined the fun too."
  
  "All too true." Annabeth cleared her throat. "Ethan is coming, carrying Kimiko. I really wish we could have the Golden Fleece here and now."
  
  There were plenty of signs of agreement. Today had been a carnage, to put it mildly, and attrition had played no favourites. Over a third of the Suicide Squad was in no way physically capable to return to the arena, this was a certainty.
  
  "Where are-"
  
  "Don't speak about them!"
  
  Hera shook her head. There were things you didn't want to know.
  
  "Golden Fleece aside, what is going to happen now?" the still-mortal Goddess of Seasons asked. "With no victor declared for the Eighth Labor, and the Ninth being a shared victory, it's, err..."
  
  Fortunately, the scoreboard returned at that moment.
  
  Scores after 9 Labours:
  
  Wins of Team Adjudicator: 4.5
  
  Wins of Team Triumvirate: 1.5
  
  Effectives of Team Adjudicator: 57
  
  Effectives of Team Triumvirate: 55
  
  "Okay, thank you," Hera breathed out in relief. "Mathematically speaking, we have the wind blowing for us now."
  
  It wasn't good to be too optimistic, but seriously, there were only three Labours left. The gap between the three Teams was of three points. And all the 'victories' of Team Triumvirate had been shared victories.
  
  Mark Antony and his cohort had never been able to triumph on their own.
  
  Obviously, the husband of Isis could try to deny it and fight on.
  
  But with Commodus dead, the authority was now invested in the two Referees.
  
  Needless to say, Dionysus and Antaeus weren't going to be impartial.
  
  "I think it is why they're busy bargaining right now," Annabeth smiled. "They know the game is close to an end, and against the Suicide Squad, it's better to solve this without violence. I wish...wait a minute. Why is the Maze beginning to move again?"
  
  Hera opened her mouth to say it was impossible.
  
  She closed it a second later.
  
  The Maze was moving.
  
  The Maze was moving, and walls were being disassembled magically.
  
  The central arena of white sands was getting larger and larger.
  
  "There is...there's someone next to the two teams. Oh, no..."
  
  26 January 2007, the Arena of the End, the Coliseum
  
  Lucius Vorenus drew his sword again a second before the problems began.
  
  After fighting and surviving a thousand battlefields, a Legionnaire developed a sort of sixth sense that trouble was able to fall upon one's head.
  
  If you didn't, it was likely that you were a Gaul, and that you dreamed of the sky falling upon your head every time.
  
  When it began, it didn't come with a phenomenal clash of arms.
  
  The air shivered, and a being with the appearance of a man wearing a tuxedo was suddenly here, in a crouched position, examining the mortal remnants of the Narcissist Emperor.
  
  "Look at the mess you made," the tone was light, not sorrowful.
  
  "He deserved everything my Legionnaires and the Suicide Squad did to him," his Imperator growled. "And more!"
  
  "That's your point of view," the Titan answered.
  
  "That's the point of view of everyone having some decency," the son of Hercules who was present affirmed. "He was cruel, arrogant, and a rapist. As for good qualities, he clearly had none. Seriously, Jackson got him because he was unable to love anyone but himself!"
  
  The Titan laughed, and Lucius Vorenus' bad feelings intensified.
  
  "Well said, son of Strength. Well said. I indeed...underestimated the Power of Love. Or rather, I underestimated the possibility of someone being able to unleash it in a useful manner."
  
  Despite the glasses, the Roman Praetor saw eyes of fire stare at a certain grinning Demigod.
  
  "You are very surprising, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "It is the story of my life," the son of Poseidon drawled. "Now I believe, with all due respect, that you leave this arena, for I am busy negotiating with Mark Anthony here. Bargains, the butter, bribing the actors behind the scenes, you know what it is."
  
  "There will be no negotiations." Prometheus removed his glasses and went to clean them. "You see, Perseus Jackson, I may not be an Oracle, but the moment you removed Python from this game, I decided to take precautions. I did not believe you would find a way to break my tool. But I had to be prudent."
  
  Holy...was he speaking about Commodus? It was...oh right, this was a Titan, and not one of the nice ones.
  
  "Why does it matter?" Titus Pullo exclaimed, with his legendary lack of tact. "Commodus is dead now."
  
  "It matters," the eyes of the Titan were looking as if they were made of liquid fire, "because I convinced him to delegate his authority before he descended into the arena. I am the new High Judge of the Games."
  
  "This is bullshit," his friend growled, and Lucius agreed. It had to be a lie! It had to be. Functions like this couldn't be transferred because you wished to-
  
  "ALPHA!" The word shook the reality, and the Maze answered.
  
  The magic exploded. The forces which had been put into motion for the Adjudicator Game were roaring their approval.
  
  Lucius Vorenus didn't miss the fact that both his Imperator and Perseus Jackson had placed a hand above their hearts, as if they had suddenly experienced a significant amount of pain.
  
  "As you can see," Prometheus didn't gloat, which made the entire scene all the more terrifying. "My credentials as a Past Adjudicator are impeccable."
  
  "What are you hoping to do?" the sand swirling around the first daughter of Demeter was a good hint this Champion was utterly furious. "There are only three Labours left."
  
  "But you created a bloodbath. It would be a lack of generosity to not offer you one more."
  
  "You are-"
  
  The son of Hercules didn't finish his sentence. Perhaps because he had figured insulting a Titan was not exactly the wise thing to do. Or it may be he had no answer ready for this statement.
  
  "The Tenth Labour is about to begin! Since I am generous, I am letting the son of Nemesis and the crippled Huntress leave the arena. But this stops here. The participants of the Labour are here."
  
  What? But it was against every tradition and rule that had ever been carved into marble!
  
  Lucius heard Perseus Jackson snorting.
  
  "You will not dare fighting us in person, Titan. You're the High Judge now; that much I won't deny. But you saw what happened to the previous one. You aren't stupid enough to believe you can't end in the same situation, oath on the Styx or not. So come on. Send whatever monster is left in the depths of this Coliseum. I will hurl its mangled corpse at your feet."
  
  "Interesting," Prometheus replied before seemingly slowly walking away. "Do you know why I chose Commodus?"
  
  "Having tolerated his presence for too long, I guess his sense of the spectacle?"
  
  "His brazenness, yes," the Titan clapped his hand. "He reminded me another King. A man that was famed for despising the Gods with a passion. He lived in times where the Gods were particularly heavy-handed in delivering punishments, but by mere luck, he managed to pass through the cracks of the net. Yet this man had a beautiful son. One whose beauty began to be sung about. This future not-Adonis attracted the gaze of the Master of Olympus. Carnal pleasures followed. Yet the father became aware of the affair. His hatred grew overwhelming. That one of his sons was touched by the divine was unbearable to him."
  
  "I know the story," Perseus said coldly as Prometheus stopped speaking. "The King was called Lycaon, and he ruled over Arcadia."
  
  "You think you know the story, Demigod." There was a hiss, and the burning eyes seemed to pierce the soul of every team member present. "One day, not seeing his young lover come at the agreed time, the Master of Olympus disguised himself as a beggar, and went to the father's palace. It was not a very good disguise, one had to admit. He was noticed. The local King, eager to teach a God some lesson, fed him his son as part of the midday meal. And then proceeded to gloat about it."
  
  By that point, Lucius Vorenus was sure that everyone listening agreed that yes, Commodus was exactly as bad as that kind of monster. Seriously, who considered doing something that awful?
  
  "For this crime, Almighty Zeus didn't waste time. With his bare hands, the Master of Olympus tore apart the King, his sons, and every participant that had laughed during the reveal. The King died, torn in a thousand parts, his blood mixing with his sons."
  
  That was...that was not how the mythological tale recounted the tale. There was-
  
  "Obviously, Zeus wanted to save his former lover. And so he did. He vomited the parts already eaten, and gathered every part of the one he had loved, before plunging it into a great cauldron where one young life had tragically been cut down short. Since the soul had not been deprived of a body for too long, Zeus was able to bring his lover back, though the mortal would never be the same again."
  
  Lucius really, really didn't like where it was going.
  
  "Then Zeus left for other horizons, never to return. It is then I arrived, and I discovered the bloodbath."
  
  It felt like a lie. And it probably was one.
  
  "I was a bit peeved at the King of the Gods, honestly. The waste of potential! All this blood spilled in the name of Love! I knew I had to do something. And fortunately, the cauldron had been left here. Most of the power was gone, of course, but Crafty Counsel during that time was not the only Domain at my disposal."
  
  "No..." his Imperator had an expression of disgust and horror.
  
  "Oh, yes. I brought the King back. I couldn't do anything about the forty-eight sons gone, of course. But him, I was able to craft a new body."
  
  "You resurrected Lycaon to turn him into a monster." Lucius said aghast. "You are-"
  
  "I am the Sire of the Lycanthropes, yes," Prometheus smiled. "Python can't be the only one to have a multitude of titles among the Coalition, can he?"
  
  An enormous mass of black metal was summoned into existence behind the Titan.
  
  To be honest, it didn't look...it looked like a God-sized Greek washbasin.
  
  They hadn't the time to react.
  
  All the blood and the mortal remnants of the Narcissist Emperor they had just butchered were thrown into it.
  
  The liquid turned the colour of the night.
  
  The black metal of the recipient began to burn in eldritch flames.
  
  "You asked me what was to be the Tenth Labour, Demigod? Here is your answer. Prove me your worth. Prove your most recent victory was no fluke! Kill Commodus! Again!"
  
  The malice was impossible to miss in these words.
  
  And Lucius Vorenus began to feel very afraid.
  
  Jackson had defeated the Narcissist Predator before, and by a plan so ridiculous it couldn't be replicated now.
  
  Furthermore, if the legend of Lycaon the Titan had recounted was true, then-
  
  A monstrous howl echoed, and the spectators began to find the motivation to shout their support again.
  
  Yes, it was really going to be bad.
  
  26 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  If one had to describe the situation in a fair and impartial manner, the fate of the poor gladiators of Team Adjudicator and Team Triumvirate currently in the arena could be described in a word beginning by 'f' and finishing by 'ked'.
  
  Yeah, it was that bad for them.
  
  They didn't have any Cyber-Hoplite Armours anymore. Not functional ones, at least. The Ninth Labour had made sure of that.
  
  They were tired.
  
  They didn't have any time to rest and prepare for the next Labour.
  
  They suffered from a loss of morale; it was unavoidable, since they had believed victory was in sight mere minutes ago.
  
  But the worst problem for them lied elsewhere: they didn't have a single silver weapon to wield.
  
  Not a single one.
  
  And now that Apollo thought about it, they weren't that many gladiators in the first place. Team Adjudicator was down to seven, which was...strange. Weren't they supposed to be more of them? As for Team Triumvirate, there were ten.
  
  Apollo didn't think it was going to be enough.
  
  An enormous claw emerged from the depths of the 'cauldron'.
  
  The natural weapons were largely superior in size to those of the Nemean Lionesses he once enslaved.
  
  The God of the Sun - and yes, at the moment, he had ten Aspects of him driving the chariot over the Sea of Monsters relaying him what was happening, in addition to Olympus News Network's holo-vid - was optimistic by nature.
  
  But here, it looked exactly as bad as it looked.
  
  Prometheus had made sure the appearance of Commodus was exactly as ugly outside as it was now inside.
  
  The Titan had turned his former lover into a giant werewolf.
  
  And yeah, returning her powers to Artemis had only increased the cycle of transformation a Lycanthrope had with the moon.
  
  This was going to make Commodus more powerful.
  
  Naturally, everything that was a neat advantage was paid with a huge weakness: in that case, it was silver.
  
  A silver weapon would largely do the job.
  
  That, or the blessing of a Huntress.
  
  But there weren't any Huntresses present in the arena, not anymore. 'Generosity', ah. Even with one of his sister's girl-scouts crippled, Prometheus had not wanted to take any risk. The Titan of Crafty Counsel had removed her from the tragedy about to unravel.
  
  This was the end of Hope.
  
  Commodus fully emerged from the abominable 'cauldron'.
  
  He was fully transformed into a Lycanthrope.
  
  He was a huge bipedal killing machine that happened to look vaguely like a werewolf, one that was entirely covered in black fur.
  
  He had even more muscles than his previous body, and his behaviour was one of a harbinger of violence and aggression.
  
  His claws looked like they were going to be able to rend steel.
  
  The fangs were smaller, but probably just as bad; if you wanted the picture of something carnivorous, Apollo had that one to propose.
  
  "FEAR!" The former Emperor of Rome shouted. "I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR!"
  
  All the weapons available to both Teams had been drawn.
  
  The lupine eyes fell on a singular target.
  
  "ONE OF YOU I WILL TAKE GREAT PLEASURE IN EATING. PERSEUS JACKSON!"
  
  You could say many things about the son of Poseidon, but for this one...the boy had a gift for making himself a long list of enemies.
  
  "YOU DENIED ME THE THRONE OF THE NEMEAN LION, BUT THIS WON'T STOP ME! I AM BACK! AND IF I CAN'T BE NEO HERCULES ANYMORE, SO BE IT! I WILL BE THE SUPREME LYCAN! I WILL BE IMPERATOR OF ALL WEREWOLVES!"
  
  "I am so sorry to interrupt your megalomaniac dreams," the leader of the Suicide Squad's voice resonated perfectly in the Coliseum. "But it isn't going to happen. In fact, I think you're going to die again, here and now."
  
  26 January 2007, the Arena of the Tenth Labour, the Coliseum
  
  Prometheus had just added himself on the list of 'beings that will die painfully before the end of my story'.
  
  Seriously, resurrecting him into a werewolf and making him bigger than Lycaon?
  
  The Titan had just asked for a tragic and humiliating demise.
  
  Yes, he was a Titan. No, that wasn't going to protect him when the Suicide Squad would engineer his doom.
  
  "I am so sorry to interrupt your megalomaniac dreams." Perseus declared. This was a lie, by the way; he wasn't sorry at all. "But it isn't going to happen. In fact, I think you're going to die, here and now."
  
  The former Tyrant took the opportunity to stretch and prepared himself mentally.
  
  This was going to suck. Royally.
  
  All of it could have been way simpler if they had a silver weapon, but of course there were none to be found here.
  
  Ellen and Jenna had necklaces of it, and the same was true of the other Huntresses.
  
  But they weren't here, and even if they had been, in such small quantities and not in weapon form, it wasn't bloody likely they could slay such a monstrous specimen.
  
  Commodus jumped out of the artefact that had brought him to life.
  
  The werewolf was truly colossal.
  
  It was a killing machine.
  
  And yes, before you asked, Perseus was pretty sure that a bite could carry the curse and transform you into a lycanthrope.
  
  That was assuming you didn't die immediately, of course. The fangs were so big that the chances of being killed instantly were not exactly low.
  
  "YOU DO NOT HAVE SILVER."
  
  "I do not have silver on me, no." More the pity, that. It would have been way easier. Something assuredly to correct for the next Great Quest: always have a silver weapon to wield. Just in case.
  
  "YOU ARE GOING TO SUFFER, MUCH I LIKE SUFFERED! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PAINFUL IT WAS, WHEN YOUR LACKEYS CUT ME APART?"
  
  "No," Perseus admitted. "But clearly, it wasn't enough. You're still able to speak."
  
  "ONCE I WILL HAVE DEALT WITH YOU, I WILL TURN YOUR LOVERS INTO MY WHORES! I WILL TAKE THEM! I WILL-"
  
  "I'm sorry. What the hell did you just say?"
  
  This time, Commodus had really gone too far.
  
  A wise man would have stopped. Even an arrogant bastard or a tyrannical villain would have recognised the risk.
  
  Commodus was just too far gone.
  
  "I SAID I WOULD TURN YOUR LOVERS INTO MY BITCHES! THEY WILL SIRE A NEW WEREWOLF ARMY WITH THEIR WOMBS, AND I WILL MAKE SURE YOU WILL WATCH IT!"
  
  "Yes, that's what I thought about I heard. " Perseus took a deep breath to control himself, then drew again the card he had hoped to never use against so soon after the first use. "It's not going to happen. REVERSO UNO!"
  
  And with a perfect throw, the former Tyrant threw the card into the 'cauldron'.
  
  "HA! WAS IT SUPPOSED TO DO-"
  
  The liquid inside the Titan-cursed artefact exploded with the force of a bomb.
  
  "RICHARD! LUKE! NOW! STRIKE HIM!"
  
  The giant werewolf found itself trying to move. It suddenly discovered it couldn't...just before having a sword impaling his throat, and another stabbing his left eye.
  
  Commodus howled in agony.
  
  "In the name of the entire Suicide Squad," each word became more and more difficult. There was no Goddess to lend her power this time, and his strength was waning, "I bid you to fall into the Pit, and never to return among the living! This is my RULE!"
  
  "YOU!" Blades cut through the fur and the monstrous flesh. "NO! THIS CAN'T BE! I AM INVINCIBLE!"
  
  "Not to the cauldron which allowed you to be reborn, Commodus."
  
  And Perseus pushed all the strength he had left in a terrible, overwhelming attack.
  
  The power of the attack was largely sufficient to send the shrieking werewolf right into the inferno that the cauldron of Prometheus had become.
  
  "Tell them I was the one to engineer your doom twice."
  
  The power surged into a single point of the arena.
  
  Flames rose to the sky.
  
  And then it was as if the explosion which would usher the End had come.
  
  26 January 2007, the Waiting Platform of Team Adjudicator, the Coliseum
  
  Once again, things had not gone exactly to the plan.
  
  Ethan was sure those words were going to be carved upon their gravestones at the end of their lives.
  
  Perseus would likely make sure of it.
  
  The second thought in the son of Nemesis' mind right now was that Jackson should have taken a sorceress with him. Yeah, there had been good arguments against it, mainly Commodus and his 'allies' not seeing a ritual coming if Bianca and Lou Ellen weren't present, but there were counter-arguments too.
  
  The same points that had led to the defeat of the Huntresses during the Third Labour, in fact. At some point, lack of flexibility made you predictable.
  
  The third thought was that maybe, just maybe, Ethan should have disobeyed the order. As important as saving a girl was, the fact was that Team Adjudicator had lost one member at a time it was already understrength.
  
  It was worse now...but what was done was done.
  
  Ethan was outside the arena. The gates for it were closed, and the powerful magical defences would fry him if he tried to return.
  
  "The reign of madness will begin in flames..." maybe it was him who uttered the words. Maybe not.
  
  One thing was sure: it was accurate.
  
  For many minutes, the entire Maze and the arena at the centre of it burned.
  
  It was no normal inferno.
  
  It seemed as all the cursed flames of Creation had decided to be here for the grand finale. Black flames were devouring the walls.
  
  Blue flames were triggering the multitude of traps that had waited for the gladiators. Red flames spread alley after alley, pit after pit.
  
  Everything had been set aflame. The Coliseum spectators were given a prime sight on what had to be the greatest funeral pyre of an Emperor in recent history.
  
  For Commodus was dead.
  
  Ethan wasn't sure about many things, but he was sure about that.
  
  Commodus had perished for the second time.
  
  Was it for good? Only the Gods and Prometheus knew for sure. The dark-haired Demigod could have sworn on the whip of his mother that the first death was the end. It hadn't been.
  
  For the second death, though, Jackson had been very, very thorough.
  
  As the flames were spreading, Ethan and the rest of the Suicide Squad had watched as the werewolf's flesh was cooked and every part of its body melted in the immense artefact that looked like a washbasin.
  
  By the end of it, there had been nothing left. Not even the bones.
  
  As if this realisation was enough, the flames were extinguished.
  
  It was like all across the Coliseum, someone had decided the candles had burned long enough.
  
  It revealed a spectacle of desolation and ruin.
  
  Everything had been incinerated.
  
  CCCRRAAAASSHH!
  
  "Okay, maybe not everyone..."
  
  An entire wall collapsed and became sand.
  
  From under it, Miranda Gardiner came out, leading the survivors of the Suicide Squad. Anne Bonny was just behind her. Then came Luke Castellan and...
  
  And Richard Grant was helping Perseus walk.
  
  The son of Poseidon looked...okay, he looked like hell. Most of his clothes were so badly burned you might as well throw them in the dustbin and call it a day. Despite the Drakon's blood power, there were many, many burns all over his body.
  
  Of the last Telekhines, there were no signs. And given their lack of mobility without Powered Armours to help them, Ethan was worried this was the last he'd seen them.
  
  SCREEEECHHHH!
  
  The Triumvirate's cyber-weapons cut through metal, and the survivors of Mark Anthony came out of the place they had endured the incredible fire storm.
  
  Much like the Suicide Squad, they had paid the price for it. There were only five Legionnaires left, their Imperator and his two senior bodyguards included.
  
  All of them were covered in dust and ashes. All of them, without exception, looked dead on their feet, and were likely very close to fainting.
  
  No matter what Team they had been part of, they were in the end mortals.
  
  There was no training on Earth which could lead you to break through these trials without paying the price for it.
  
  "They have not opened the gates."
  
  "No, they have not."
  
  "Congratulations," the Titan responsible for this awful disaster proclaimed, "on completing the Tenth Labour. It seems that in the end, it wasn't pure luck which led to poor Commodus' defeat."
  
  Hundreds of eyes glared at the tuxedo-costumed immortal.
  
  It had not been luck the first time, and everyone knew it.
  
  This had just been excuse to try to kill all the arena gladiators via a 'weapon' they couldn't possibly defeat.
  
  "I suppose I could resurrect Commodus a third time."
  
  "No, you can't." Perseus coughed blood, which was...not a good sign. But his voice remained strong. "I sent Commodus straight to hell, literally. His soul was claimed by my Lord Uncle, and he won't give it back to you. If you want to bring him back, I suggest you arrange an escape yourself."
  
  Prometheus removed his glasses once again, and cleaned them. It had to be a way to hide his emotions, because the objects didn't look like they needed the attention.
  
  Obviously, that the Titan didn't immediately prove the words of Perseus wrong confirmed that it was indeed the truth.
  
  "This is rather rude. But I will let it pass. You've completed the Tenth Labour. That leaves the question of the Eleventh."
  
  "Since we had three victories over Team Triumvirate, and Perseus just won us the last Labour," Luke Castellan raised his sword in a gesture that was very much not destined to look friendly. "It means victory goes to Team Adjudicator."
  
  "It is not that simple, son of Hermes."
  
  The blonde swordsman didn't look surprised.
  
  "There were bets in the Suicide Squad the moment we saw you. Some people were thinking you tolerated Commodus' excesses because you had a special need for him."
  
  "It is indeed the case."
  
  "Except it is nothing but a giant lie," Luke said bluntly. "You supported Commodus because you and him are exactly the same, deep inside. You are both incredibly Narcissist Predators, feeding on human misery. You are just monsters, and you will behave as such until someone sends you straight to the maximum security prison of Hell where you belong!"
  
  The eyes of fire flashed dangerously.
  
  For someone who hadn't studied psychology a single second of his life, Ethan was going to say, Luke Castellan had hit the target dead centre.
  
  "You realise, Demigod, that whether or not your description is accurate, I am still the acting High Judge."
  
  Grant helped Jackson get close to Castellan, and something was whispered.
  
  There were a few grim nods.
  
  That was not-
  
  "Yes, you are the High Judge. But you're not the original one. And you didn't respect many, many rules. Each participant had to be volunteered by his Captain. We had to be given the opportunity to leave the arena. You violated the hell of out of these rules, Prometheus."
  
  "Are you going to sue me in front of the Supreme Court of Justice of Olympus?" The Titan asked with a smile. "I'm afraid their deliberations are a bit long these days. Why, the average response time is over a century. They're so busy dealing with the complaints about Zeus abusing his powers. How sad."
  
  "We could do that." Luke shrugged. "Or we can do something simpler. Honourable Referees, in the name of my Captain, I demand the Eleventh Labour to be a simple one-on-one duel with the new High Judge! Contingency Byzantine!"
  
  "Accepted!"
  
  Ethan blinked as Antaeus, Second Referee...outright jumped out of the Throne-Lodge.
  
  "Accepted!"
  
  Dionysus teleported away with his cups and barrels of wine.
  
  Prometheus found himself alone, since the Praetorians and other mercenaries had fled following Commodus' death.
  
  The Titan yawned.
  
  "I refuse. And who, pray tell, would hypothetically fight me in such a ridiculous duel if I even considered it? I am a Titan, son of the Thief. For all the Domains I lost, I retain more power in one of my fingers than your entire band of clowns. Perseus Jackson? He looks like he won't manage to reach my seat in the first place."
  
  "No, not our Captain."
  
  Prometheus sighed loudly.
  
  "Will I have to guess one by one who is the idiot you hypothetically will throw to the wolves?"
  
  "None of that will be necessary." Luke assured him. "He's just behind you right now."
  
  Prometheus burst into laughter.
  
  "Do you expect me to fall for-"
  
  The Titan stopped laughing.
  
  Maybe because Queen Otrera, in her Serpopard form, was looking behind him with a terrified expression.
  
  Thousands of ultra-sophisticated cameras turned.
  
  Prometheus, at last, abandoned his focus on the arena and looked at his foe.
  
  "I AM IN POSITION, BOSS! KABOOM?"
  
  "No," Prometheus hissed like a snake that suddenly couldn't understand why his tail had just been swallowed by another snake's maw. "No, this rule-breaking has to cease immediately!"
  
  Yeah, there was a reason why Antaeus and Dionysus had left the Imperial Lodge as fast as they could.
  
  All the while the Ninth and Tenth Labours were happening, a certain penguin had clearly stockpiled many, many boxes everywhere. Obviously, the God of Wine must have clearly used his power to help, otherwise it wouldn't have worked...
  
  But all mattered was the result.
  
  And the result was now that Rico was targeting the Imperial Lodge with a giant rocket-launcher, having suddenly stopped hiding behind the statues of the Gods Commodus had used for decoration purposes. It should be not something worth worrying about for a Titan...except of course, the boxes that were now everywhere in the former Lodge of Commodus were filled with casks of Greek Fire.
  
  "KABOOM?"
  
  "Yes, Rico! Kaboom."
  
  "I am going to make a carpet out-"
  
  The explosion, all things said, was not as spectacular as the one Perseus had unleashed for the 'Tenth Labour'.
  
  Nonetheless, the corona of green flames utterly disintegrated Commodus' monument to his own vanity. Soon enough, the Lodge collapsed, raining down death in the form of debris upon the heads of thousands of monsters and mercenaries who had believed themselves safe.
  
  That was then the second stockpile of the casks detonated. The Greek Fire had always been an unstable substance, and it proved its infamous reputation was not usurped in the end.
  
  It was a very special fireworks display.
  
  All sections of the Coliseum disappeared in the green flames.
  
  And Ethan wasn't the only one to laugh.
  
  26 January 2007, the Last Arena as the Coliseum Burns
  
  In hindsight, letting Ethan and Kimiko leave the arena had been Prometheus' most egregious mistake.
  
  Yeah, it had ensured there would be no Huntress to confront Commodus a second time, but it had also left the possibility for the penguins to escape the arena.
  
  They had escaped the arena, but Commodus had not found out. As a result, he had not formally removed them from the list of participants of the Labours.
  
  Conclusion: it was perfectly legal to try to assassinate the High Judge with a penguin and plenty of casks of Greek Fire!
  
  The fact that the stocks in question were stolen from Commodus' reserves made it all the sweeter, honestly.
  
  "This was really an impressive display," Miranda acknowledged.
  
  "Yes, yes, it was." Right in front of them, a large number of bags appeared, carrying food and drinks. "Luke. If you find a bottle of Nectar there, please give it to me."
  
  "How do you know...ah, the God of Wine?"
  
  "Correct," Dionysus had just moved to a Lodge that was far higher than the one which was currently burning, out of reach of most 'traditional' weapons, but with no one to protest, he could give them that little help.
  
  The moment the divine beverage touched his lips, Perseus felt it was like he had tasted paradise.
  
  His wounds began to heal. His exhaustion began to fade.
  
  The same was happening to every survivor, assuredly, as common and divine supplies were swallowed like it was a question of life or death.
  
  It felt good, very good.
  
  Perseus wasn't stupid enough to believe it had been enough to erase the exhaustion of the succession of horrifyingly tiring Labours he and the rest of the Suicide Squad had completed.
  
  At best, the former Tyrant felt it had given them a few hours.
  
  A few hours before they collapsed and each Demigod and Demigoddess had to sleep for a good week to recover his or her strength.
  
  "The magical barriers are down," the female Champion of Calypso announced. "We can finally leave this cursed arena forever behind us."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "Far from me to take offense at such an enticing proposal...but are you sure you are not forgetting something?"
  
  He didn't need to roll his red eye. He just needed to raise a finger and point it upwards.
  
  There were several groans.
  
  "Oh, right," Richard shook his head in displeasure. "We're supposed to free the God of War."
  
  Mark Antony coughed next to them.
  
  "Actually-"
  
  "Forget it," Perseus had taken some risky gambits, but he wasn't crazy. "Dionysus is here to serve as witness, and though the Greek Fire consumed plenty of cameras, there are far enough to tell the entire Pantheon of Olympus every detail of the Adjudicator Challenge. I am not going to risk my life gambling on Zeus' mercy. Here is what I propose. I give you ten minutes to free Isis, and you leave this island immediately with what's left of your troops. That, I think, will give you a small advance before the God you imprisoned will begin the pursuit."
  
  The Roman wasn't pleased by it, it was rather clear.
  
  That said, Mark Antony could also tell it was the best bargain he was going to get. With Miranda present, the chances of the Triumvirate to fight a team-versus-team were rather close to zero.
  
  "Are you sure you are not forgetting something?"
  
  "BOSS! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"
  
  This was all what Rico had the time to shout before something enormous dashed out of the green inferno and sent him flying along with a giant statue in some sort of comedic display.
  
  "No," Perseus shook his head. "I hadn't forgotten you. I knew this attack wasn't going to kill you. I was merely counting upon it ending the Eleventh Labour."
  
  "Good," and the inferno which was busy devouring a good one-tenth of the Coliseum began to lose potency as it was swallowed by a maelstrom of black flames.
  
  Except this time, Perseus knew neither Bianca nor Lou Ellen were responsible for this.
  
  The fires were extinguished by something primal, something that had only been unleashed a handful of times.
  
  The Greek Fire died, and Prometheus emerged from the smoke.
  
  The tuxedo was a ruin. The Titan in appearance had been treated exactly the same as they had: he was now covered in ashes and a lot of very dirty-looking substances.
  
  But unlike them, Prometheus didn't even looked slightly wounded.
  
  "How?" a Legionnaire asked bewildered. "You were at Ground Zero of the explosion!"
  
  "Yes, he was. But as long as it is a new dawn, Prometheus has the unique ability to imitate a Phoenix, and die to be reborn immediately, the damage of the last twenty-four hours erased."
  
  This was the kind of extraordinary ability that had made sure that the Titans ruled Earth for so long, despite being right bastards.
  
  It had also ensured they were given a victory for the Eleventh Hour, but that was just the kind of happy 'coincidences' that happened in his life.
  
  "You are well-informed, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "Information is the deadliest weapon one can have in his hands, and it is true for mortals and immortals."
  
  "Words to live by," Prometheus gave a last look to the artefact he had unleashed in the Tenth Labour. Surprisingly, while the arena had been heavily damaged, the 'werewolf-creating cauldron' only seemed to have its black paint scratched. "A pity I can't take it with myself. But it will have to be abandoned. The Olympians have temporarily abandoned the Hunt for Python, and now several of them are on their way to put an end to this story. I think I will have to make my escape, and taking more than Otrera with me would be extraordinary dangerous for me."
  
  The female Serpopard chose this moment to land at the Titan's feet. And no, Perseus didn't miss her pleading look.
  
  But what the hell was the Amazon Queen hoping for exactly? Perseus considered himself crazy in a good way. But he wasn't a death-seeker. The Suicide Squad didn't have the firepower to challenge Prometheus in a true Demigod-versus-Titan duel for her soul. It would have been extremely risky if they were all fresh, rested, and had a perfect plan to execute. They had none of that now.
  
  In fact, it was worse than that. A good part of the Suicide Squad was busy fighting its way across a sea of Centaurs to get out of the Coliseum now that plenty of tunnels had collapsed.
  
  "We will see each other again, then."
  
  Prometheus gave him a curt nod.
  
  "Yes, I suppose we will." The Titan bared his white fangs, and it wasn't a metaphor. "But I must give a parting gift."
  
  Ah, here it was.
  
  "You are an evil piece of-" The Legionnaire who had been a bit too daring saw his mouth be removed like it had never existed.
  
  "Dionysus and your half-brother will pursue me if nothing is done." The Titan of Crafty Counsel conjured a new leash for Otrera. "And I honestly prefer to not have that. Which is why...in my last command as your High Judge, I declare the start of the Twelfth Labour!"
  
  Hours ago, it would have unleashed an earth-shaking series of cheers and thunderous baying. Now? Well, tens of thousands of monsters were busy fleeing for their lives. The party was over, and the games of Commodus didn't look as 'fun' as they had been at first.
  
  "Your magical barriers are down," Lucius Vorenus pointed out.
  
  Prometheus merely shrugged.
  
  "I find it fitting that for the grand finale of this extraordinary adventure, all the contestants be granted the chance to shine. The entire island will be the stage. As for the Twelfth Labour..."
  
  The Titan clicked his fingers.
  
  There was a bolt of red energy. It soared higher and higher...so high in fact it went to strike at-
  
  "Your Twelfth Labour will be to defeat the God of War."
  
  The Orichalcum Cage fell, and suddenly an unending wave of bloodlust spread across the island Commodus had called his own.
  
  26 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  There were people who would have rejoiced at Ares being freed.
  
  Apollo wasn't one of them.
  
  The God of the Sun had, unlike them, noticed what had happened.
  
  The flames of Hatred and Bloodthirst had not disappeared just because no one paid them attention.
  
  No, they had been sent into Ares' cage, fuelling his rage, making sure his worse Aspects were entirely dominant.
  
  And when the Orichalcum cage cracked, it was not the semi-reasonable version of Mars who was in control.
  
  It was Ares.
  
  Ares Brotoloigos, the Bane of Men.
  
  Ares Maleros, the Brutal.
  
  Ares Miaiphonos, the Blood-Defiled.
  
  Any one of these divine aspects would have been extremely bad for the souls present on this island.
  
  Together?
  
  It was just disaster.
  
  Prometheus was going to have his wish; no one was going to pursue him anytime soon.
  
  "There is too much of his divine power concentrated in a single place. It is against the Ancient Rules to fight mortals like that."
  
  Sometimes, Apollo was really befuddled by his sister's naivety.
  
  "He is not going to use his divine form."
  
  The punishment would be way too extreme, even for Ares.
  
  "But that doesn't mean this fight is going to be anything I would call 'fair'."
  
  26 January 2007, the Arena of War, the Coliseum
  
  "This was never part of the plan."
  
  "You're hardly reassuring, you know."
  
  "Luke, we are supposed to defeat an Olympian...there is nothing reassuring in that situation."
  
  "Err..." the huge Legionnaire answering to the name of Titus Pullo cleared loudly his throat. "Excuse me if I missed something, but isn't the God of War supposed to be your ally? You know much like Isis is on our side, he-"
  
  "I AM NOT ON ANYONE'S SIDE! I AM ARES! I AM WAR!"
  
  The God tore apart what was left of his cage.
  
  And then he jumped.
  
  It was a long fall.
  
  Long enough for Perseus to know that the bloodthirsty warmonger had aimed for a particularly well-crowded stand where thousands of Centaurs had been trying to trample their fellow spectators in order to escape.
  
  Ares crashed into them in a gigantic explosion of gore.
  
  "Okay," Richard Grant said weakly. "I hated the Centaurs, but that...that is brutal."
  
  "And he's just getting started," Perseus breathed out before activating the phone Antaeus had hidden with the 'free lunch'. "Ethan, do you hear me?"
  
  "I hear you," the son of Nemesis sounded very tired, which sounded, well, understandable. "We're not going to reach you in time. If-"
  
  "Continue to fight your way out of the arena with everyone. You wouldn't reach us in time. Well, with one exception. I want Bianca to arrive as fast as possible."
  
  "I will transmit the command. She will likely obey with celerity. Prometheus and Commodus have really angered her."
  
  "I think Commodus is beyond caring now," the son of Poseidon chuckled. "Escort the wounded and the allies to the Inevitable Doom, Ethan."
  
  "I will."
  
  The communication was cut; the son of Nemesis had finally found an intact tunnel, and Annabeth and the others were busy massacring quantities of monsters to use it.
  
  "I would have appreciated some reinforcements," Miranda said as she began gathering as much sand as she could to serve as weapons. "I mean, a few thousand auxiliaries...oh, by the Pit!"
  
  The exclamation was truly more than justified.
  
  The smoke was disappearing, and the carnage was revealed.
  
  A good part of the stands were Ares had crashed was...okay, Perseus was sure there were Aztec temples in America which had not received as many sacrifices in a thousand years.
  
  There were corpses of monsters everywhere.
  
  There were rivers of blood flowing, a crimson affluent dedicated forever to murder and carnage.
  
  Then the Corpses themselves began to dissolve, adding long rivers of black fluids, which were forever tainting the clear-coloured stones of the Coliseum.
  
  Red and black.
  
  Black and red.
  
  It was a union of death and blood, and as it descended towards the arena, the surviving monsters were falling into a frenzy.
  
  Tens of thousands had been killed, but that left many thousands, and now all were falling upon each other with battle-cries and proclamations that no quarter would ever be given.
  
  "Jackson, I am sure we have faced a great deal of danger together, and everything, but...I think it's time to run away."
  
  "Luke, I think it is far too late to flee. We wouldn't get out of the arena alive. It is best to save our strength."
  
  "At least you won't be his priority targets," Mark Antony commented, his eyes never turning, his entire attention being given to the pool of blood and murder which was getting created right now in the outskirts of the destroyed Maze.
  
  "I think it is a very small consolation."
  
  The events of the next seconds confirmed he had been right.
  
  The blood pool became a lake.
  
  It was a thing reeking of despair and violence.
  
  It was pushing everyone to accomplish their worst impulses.
  
  It was War, in its most evil and pure form.
  
  Seven heartbeats later, the God emerged.
  
  Perseus had known the rules of the Adjudicator Challenge would prevent a divine form being used.
  
  Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly the same thing as saying their opponent had to give them a fair chance of winning.
  
  Having killed so many Centaurs, Ares had decided to use their corpses as a base model with their monstrous essence.
  
  No, it had not improved his already bloodthirsty personality.
  
  All it had done, much like Commodus' transformation, was to reveal the ugliness lurking behind the mask.
  
  Some people would fail to have the imagination to describe a giant Centaur of red-black, a quadruped whose hooves were continually dripping with blood. This was a Centaur that was easily ten metres high, and it was armoured from tail to head. In fact, on a large part of its body, the metal was so omnipresent there was no way to know if there was flesh underneath. Every part was black or red metal, and none of it was purely decorative; long blades and barbed instruments of war had been added to it.
  
  As for the 'human' part of the Centaur...it wasn't human at all. It was vaguely looking like the combination of a Spartan Armour and a Golem, with red eyes of pure malevolence shining towards them.
  
  "GLORY TO WAR! I CALL YOU TO WAR!"
  
  The island shook, and the thousands of monsters hurled their hatred, before throwing themselves even more ferociously into the different melees they were part of.
  
  One gigantic arm turned into a spear that no mortal could have ever carried, and it struck the incinerated Maze.
  
  The shockwave was properly cataclysmic, and Miranda had to erect a sand shield in catastrophe to protect them.
  
  "No offence, oh Mighty Captain, but one miraculous plan would be dearly appreciated!"
  
  "No offence taken!" Perseus taped a new phone number. "Skipper. Tell me you are in position."
  
  "I have returned to the command room of the Inevitable Doom, Boss! Decurion Skipper, awaiting orders!"
  
  "Excellent," Perseus smirked. These days, it was good to know his contingencies worked. "How many X-05 missiles do we have?"
  
  "One hundred and five, Boss." The former Legionnaire turned Emperor Penguin said cheerfully before realising what he had just said. "But...err...Boss...I have a few drones in the air, and I don't think that they will be enough-"
  
  "Ares isn't the target."
  
  "Oh? Ah! Okay, I understand. It...it won't be seen as treason?"
  
  "I don't see any Olympians being able to intervene. It is still technically a Labour." The former tyrant smiled. "You may fire when ready. Authorisation: Omega-Omega-Omega. Commit five for the chief enemy, we have to buy some time."
  
  "Codes accepted," Skipper declared. "Missiles incoming!"
  
  The Inevitable Doom was a modern warship, and his pride and joy.
  
  It took barely ten seconds once the conversation ended for his ears to perceive the shrieking sound of the first salvo being delivered.
  
  Obviously, the first salvo was focused on Ares. Two were swatted out of the sky by a cleaver greater than a Laistrygonian Giant. The three others struck true.
  
  "DO YOU REALLY THINK YOUR PATHETIC TOYS WILL SAVE YOU? I AM WAR!"
  
  There would be no mercy from Ares on that day.
  
  More missiles came.
  
  The crescendo of explosions grew louder and louder.
  
  "AND NOW, YOU MISS," the Armoured Centaur mocked them.
  
  "No," Perseus shook his head. "We really didn't. We weren't aiming at you."
  
  The God of War was now a butcher and a warmonger. But he could raise his eyes and understand the problem.
  
  The second cage had cracked.
  
  "You have freed the Egyptian whore."
  
  "Yes, yes I did free Isis." Perseus admitted. "When the opponent is a God, better to call a Goddess for help, no?"
  
  The third salvo of missiles struck, and this time, the Orichalcum cage imprisoning Isis wasn't damaged.
  
  It utterly disintegrated, freeing its prisoner.
  
  Transforming yourself into a giant snake had always been one of the favourites of Praesi sorcerers.
  
  When she had been ruling as Triumphant, she had never seen the appeal of it.
  
  Yes, giant snakes were kind of threatening and had an inbuilt magical resistance to the kind of weapons Heroes always carried with them.
  
  It didn't erase the problem that the ritual to transform yourself lasted generally close to twelve hours, and that if you screwed up a single phase, the end result was more likely to be you being transformed into a lesser snake, or even an egg snake.
  
  It also could result in you being forever cursed with the giant snake body, unable to return to your human form. It was great for intimidation purposes, but very much impractical for everything else.
  
  Of course, Isis was a Goddess, and was able to transform into a Giant Black Mamba within five seconds, using the essence of the Scythian Dracanae.
  
  "This is outright cheating," the daughter of Hades declared as she finished her shadow-walking.
  
  "Yes, yes it is." Perseus gave her a glance. "But I fear it isn't going to be enough."
  
  Bianca wanted to say he was wrong.
  
  Instead, she merely winced.
  
  The Black Mamba Isis had transformed into was impressive, all right. It was a magnificent beast, with scales shining like onyx gemstones, and fangs that would largely be able to sink the Inevitable Doom if they managed to come into contact with the hull.
  
  But the young Egyptian Goddess was only about two-thirds of the size of Ares in his 'Armoured Centaur' form.
  
  Worse, the God of War had transformed what should have been his hands into a bloody spear and a large shield, giving him the option to keep his opponent at long-range.
  
  "Time to teach you who you should have chosen as your true husband, whore!"
  
  "Jackson, how it is this that every major enemy of these Games has been a rapist?"
  
  "I don't think Prometheus is a rapist...I think?"
  
  "He enslaved Otrera and kept her as a pet!" Anne Bonny hissed.
  
  "This makes him a slaver," the son of Poseidon sighed, before shrugging. "But I take your point. Take cover, it is going to be bad."
  
  These were wise words.
  
  The two deities couldn't use their immortal form, but they were still incredibly fast.
  
  They charged.
  
  And when they collided-
  
  Bianca for a moment felt a genuine flicker of fear.
  
  The shockwave...the shockwave made by the first clash was just overwhelming.
  
  "What the hell is this power? We fought Persephone in the Underworld! She showed nothing like this!"
  
  "We fought a weakened Goddess of Spring, who was careful about not bringing down the roof of her husband's palace upon her own head." Perseus Jackson corrected. "There's a difference."
  
  Yes, yes there was.
  
  "Brace-"
  
  The world exploded again.
  
  It was a contest of power.
  
  It was something they had no business being close to.
  
  "What the-"
  
  "Flee! Flee, we can't-"
  
  A Triumvirate Legionnaire was disintegrated as he left the protection offered by a wall of the Maze that had stayed more or less intact. His death wasn't the only one.
  
  Over four hundred monsters were taken down by the giant explosions and the shockwaves created by the divine duel.
  
  "Perseus Jackson!" Mark Antony was bleeding, both from the lips and other wounds that had reopened. "In your honest opinion-"
  
  "Your wife is going to lose," the Tyrant of the Suicide Squad replied bluntly. "I'm sorry, but I can't see any other outcome. She has only this Giant Mamba form right now, she's inexperienced, and more importantly, we gladiators have fed the Domain of War with all the blood we've spilled."
  
  "No, you must be mistaken! You called Love!"
  
  "And I used nearly all of it to call Venus and power the ritual," the counter came immediately. "There's not much left for her to use."
  
  "What if Dionysus helped?" Luke Castellan suggested.
  
  "It would give us the upper hand. But this will stay hypothetical, because as long as the Labours aren't over, Dionysus can't directly intervene. It isn't that he doesn't want to help; it's that he can't. There's some leeway in the rules, given how the two High Judges decided to tear them apart when they weren't convenient, but not enough. We have to defeat the God of War, and we have to do it with the beings on this island who are not Referees, and of course they also had to be 'part of the Games' in the first place."
  
  The Black Mamba Goddess was swift and graceful. As they spoke, Isis had understood that her speed and her technique were her only chances against the brutish tactics of Ares. It was very much a dance around a juggernaut that looked like a barbaric Dread Emperor of long-extinct ages.
  
  But Perseus Jackson was right: it wasn't going to be enough.
  
  Not against an Olympian.
  
  Though he was certainly the weakest of them, Ares was still an Olympian.
  
  As for the idea of repeating-
  
  "You used this extremely amusing ritual to slay Commodus twice," the former Dread Empress began thoughtfully. "Twice, not thrice. Could you use the 'REVERSO UNO' one more time?"
  
  "Reverse what, pray tell?" the eyes of Perseus Jackson were suddenly far more interested than they had been a few seconds ago. "First, I drained Commodus of all the power he had accumulated over the centuries to make himself God of the Nemean Lions, in addition to fulfil his part of Master of the Thespiades and King of the Games. When he was reborn, I sent back the werewolf power straight back to the ugly 'cauldron'. Ares' Power is his own. There is nothing to send his power to."
  
  Bianca turned her head towards Mark Antony.
  
  "Not something. Someone."
  
  "Someone is really eager to get accused of treason again."
  
  There was a terrible shrieking sound, and for the first time, Ares laughed.
  
  "First blood goes to me!"
  
  This was not a serious wound, but indeed a few scales had been outright destroyed, and golden ichor was definitely seen.
  
  "I think," Miranda snarked, "that the accusations of treason are a bit less important than us surviving the next hour, Jackson!"
  
  "The point has some merits," the grin manifested for a couple of seconds before disappearing again. "In that case, I will present my arguments from a practical viewpoint. Mark Antony is not strong enough to receive the power of War right now. He has passed the trials of the Adjudicator Challenge, yes, but his body is not prepared, and neither is his soul."
  
  The son of Poseidon stared directly at the famous Roman officer.
  
  "Let's assume I am indeed capable of draining the power of War for a fraction of a second and send it straight into your chest, Marcus Antonius. You're even less prepared than Piper McLean was to receive the power of the Huntress. There's a word for that."
  
  "Yes, Kaboom!"
  
  Bianca turned and groaned. Perseus Jackson didn't.
  
  "Rico, nice to see you survived the Serpopard."
  
  "It's thanks to the parachute you gave me, Boss! You were right, contingencies are paying off!"
  
  "I'm so glad to hear you say that," all the members of Team Triumvirate and Adjudicator heard the chuckle. "But to return to the subject at hand, you, Marcus Antonius, can't wield the full Domain of War. I, personally, can't drain a God of a power that is legitimately his. I am good, but not that good."
  
  "Then it means that everything we will have done is in vain? That we're going to fail at the last of the Twelve Labours?"
  
  "Did I say that?"
  
  Perseus seemed to suddenly become very interested in the sky above the Coliseum.
  
  "While the initial plan is way out of the means we can deploy, some of it can be repurposed for the alternative plan I have just decided to go ahead with. But I warn you: you aren't going to like it."
  
  Miranda and Luke groaned together.
  
  "Will it work?"
  
  "Oh, Imperator," the insane Demigod smiled. "The entire point of this story is to find out!"
  
  Isis was losing, and she was losing very badly.
  
  As much as the thought was infuriating, the young Goddess acknowledged the only reason her duel with Ares was taking so long was because Ares was toying with her.
  
  It was deeply frustrating, in addition to giving her incredibly awful emotions.
  
  But it was the truth.
  
  Isis was going to lose.
  
  But she continued fighting.
  
  You never knew the outcome of a battle until it was over.
  
  That, at least, she had understood from her previous life.
  
  If you fled, not only you lost, but you regretted it for as long as you were conscious, and since she was now a Goddess, 'long' meant eternity now.
  
  She fought.
  
  One never knew what was going to happen. Ares could trip and made a giant mistake. The sky could fall upon his head.
  
  The only way to have a minimal possibility of winning was to fight.
  
  And so she did.
  
  Unfortunately, there were no miracles for her so far.
  
  And while this Coliseum had not become a Domain per se, it was increasing the strength of Ares, while decreasing hers.
  
  It was completely unfair.
  
  But it was what was happening-
  
  The thought broke as the titanic spear almost skewered her.
  
  "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" the Butcher God laughed. "We are going to have a lot of fun you and I once you will have submitted properly!"
  
  "I will rather sleep with a gorilla," Isis replied truthfully. "They at least, have some love for their fellow monkeys!"
  
  The aura of bloodlust increased by ten times, and Isis' eyes widened. She had known Ares was toying with her, but not-
  
  PAIN!
  
  Her essence shrieked in agony, and suddenly the Black Mamba form she was currently using was lying on the cold hard floor, absolutely defenceless.
  
  "Yes, we are going to have a lot of fun," the bastard gloated. "But I have played long enough with you. Did you know one of my titles is the Widowmaker? I think it is time to prove it once more! Marcus Antonius! Crawl out of your hole, and come fight me! Unless you wish to watch while I take your wife for myself?"
  
  "Look behind you, Ares."
  
  The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, not that Isis was very much able anymore to-
  
  "This pitiful stratagem isn't going to work anymore, Perseus Jackson! I have made sure to keep enough attention to know where your penguins are hiding!"
  
  "You won't be able to say I didn't warn you."
  
  One second later, the Solar Ark, her Solar Ark revealed itself flying above the Coliseum, and the main batteries opened fire.
  
  Ares had just the time to turn his head and gape before an enormous solar-powered laser engulfed his Centaur form.
  
  Usually, first step always worked.
  
  But since the narrative stories were very different here, it was better to make sure you had a good first step.
  
  Fortunately, having a giant flying carrier unleashing all its firepower at once was something hard to beat.
  
  And with that, it was time to stop sending flowers to himself, and to get to work.
  
  "Take a step back, and heal yourself," Perseus commanded the fallen Goddess, whose Black Mamba form was falling apart, leaving her back with her form of 'classical' Egyptian Goddess. "You're looking like hell."
  
  "I can still fight!"
  
  "No, you can't. Ares is too much for you. The same applies to your Spear of the Gods, by the way."
  
  There was a reason he had told Mark Antony to get most of his crew out before sending it to fly over the Coliseum.
  
  It was a proposal that had been extremely prescient, for mere seconds later, four giant harpoons of blood-soaked metal were hurled at the Solar Ark.
  
  The Roman crew did its best, but it managed to only avoid one...and then the explosions began.
  
  The Solar Ark wasn't destroyed, but several parts of the hull flew away, and fires were created, blackening the golden hull.
  
  The Spear of the Gods was beginning to lose altitude, and the huge column of smoke wasn't a good sign at all.
  
  In hindsight, there may have been a reason or two why the Olympians had not built something like that before, and it was not a problem of ego.
  
  "Did you really think it was going to be enough to inconvenience me? I am the God of War!"
  
  A giant emerged from the smoke.
  
  As expected, it was Ares.
  
  The Centaur form was gone; what stood before him was a six metre-tall immortal in a 'spike-mode' of the Spartan Armour. Seriously, even in his days as Tyrant, Perseus had never taken heads and placed them like that. It was unhygienic.
  
  "Of course not," Perseus replied truthfully. "It was a distraction. I merely needed a few seconds to get close."
  
  "To propose me your so-cursed eternal friendship?" the bloodthirsty Olympian mocked him. "Don't bother."
  
  "I dealt with Otrera for you," the son of Poseidon reminded him.
  
  "SHE WAS MINE TO PUNISH AND KILL!"
  
  The outburst really surprised him. And in an instant, Perseus knew that he had made a mistake. Okay, sometimes he was a bit mad. Some of his impulses had craziness carved in large letters on them. But Ares? Ares' core personality had succumbed to the Domains of Carnage and Slaughter. There was no easy 'return' from that fateful threshold.
  
  "I blame Commodus. I was telling him to not be so arrogant and narcissist, but-"
  
  The long spear shifted into a blood-covered sword.
  
  And it was pointed straight at him.
  
  "Get out of the way, runt. The Goddess hiding behind you and I have something to finish. Once I will have made her properly my whore, you will be next. I may even do you the honour to fight with this coward of Mark Antony; it isn't like he will be a big challenge."
  
  "I'm afraid I can't let you do that."
  
  Perseus opened his pockets and grabbed his card game.
  
  "It is time to duel!"
  
  "More of your 'UNO' nonsense?" Ares was clearly unimpressed. "It won't work on me, runt. This hasn't a chance in a million to work. I am not a useless claimant like Commodus! I AM THE GOD OF WAR!"
  
  "You are as stupid as he is, at least," the former Tyrant breathed out in relief. "For you know the key point, these aren't UNO cards. These are Mythomagic ones. I draw three cards; and look there are three traps!"
  
  "What is the point of this stupidity? One game or another is all the same! Now DIE!"
  
  "This affair began with love, and so it must end with love! I have a Goddess of Love present, and the offering to the God of Madness has been madness! The Snake transformation has been used today! Let the trap activate! TRIPLE STONE CURSE!"
  
  Needless to say, this could only work in the first place because Dionysus was the guardian of the Sarcophagus having taken the Gorgon Curse, and Perseus had placed some magical beacons upon it just in case.
  
  And the God of Wine had given him the permission of course.
  
  "This is not...NO! WHAT IS HAPPENING? NO!" Ares tried to move, but his corporeal form was already turning an ugly grey. The limbs were changed into stone, like so many of Medusa's victims had been.
  
  "I win," Perseus said, discarding all humility with a large grin. "Again."
  
  After this, maybe someone would stop underestimating the beautiful card games of this world, no?
  
  If this didn't do it, though, Perseus didn't know what would, though.
  
  The sight of an Olympian being transformed into a statue was not one that should be forgotten anytime soon...
  
  He had done it again.
  
  The madman had done it again.
  
  Perseus Jackson had transformed Ares into a statue.
  
  Richard was sure that pretty much no one had seen that coming, from the top of Olympus to the deepest pit of Tartarus.
  
  "That's just fantastic! Now we can-"
  
  "It isn't going to last long," Perseus immediately crushed the enthusiasm. "I think five minutes, and in all likelihood, it will be far closer to three."
  
  "But it worked!" Mark Antony ran to take his wife in his arms. "If we can do it again-"
  
  "He's a bloodthirsty murderer, but he's not a complete imbecile! It won't work a second time." The red eye was not malevolent, just...tired. "War is everywhere on this island. There are tens of thousands of monsters and former servants of Commodus fighting to reach their ships. War is omnipresent. War has sunk its claws into the bedrock of this island. There is no going back from that."
  
  It was true, assuredly. The Coliseum was empty, but it looked like the very image of an altar to War now. There were enough corpses everywhere to justify giving it the name 'battlefield'.
  
  "No. Bianca? Finished evaluating the risks?"
  
  "It...it might work. But you and I are going to take the brunt of the attack. And-"
  
  The son of Hercules gave a deep sigh.
  
  "I see. Annabeth you hear me? I want you to fire the X-T torpedoes."
  
  "Are you mad?"
  
  It was almost a relief to hear the cackle of their leader.
  
  "Ah, I hadn't realised I missed that question. No, I am not mad. In fact, this is a logical conclusion to most of my problems."
  
  "Very well. But you better survive, or I will resurrect you to kill you myself!"
  
  The communication was cut.
  
  "Let it not be said, that I have girlfriends afraid to raise their voices in my presence."
  
  "You're completely crazy, Jackson," Richard drawled.
  
  "Yes, I know. It's about my plans or having accepted two girlfriends?"
  
  "Both," Anne Bonny intervened. "Both, I think."
  
  "Well, I am not going to say you're wrong. Bianca?"
  
  The daughter of Hades had rushed to the 'cauldron' that Prometheus had brought for the werewolf transformation of the Narcissist Predator.
  
  "I am the Lightning Thief!" the world seemed to drown in darkness once more.
  
  At this moment, you couldn't doubt at all that if the son of Poseidon hadn't been here months ago, Bianca di Angelo would have won her apotheosis by usurping her genitor.
  
  "I conquered Hell and bathed in the Styx! I see the properties and the blasphemy imbued in this artefact! And now I order it to CHANGE! From the deepest pits, I take the Fire! Do you hear me? I have paid my due! Now give me the Fire which was extinguished!"
  
  The large parody of a washbasin - Ethan's words, not his - had the liquid of the surface burning again.
  
  It was, this time, not the usual black flames the Suicide Squad had seen so often.
  
  No, this time, the flames were white.
  
  There was no time to ask the purpose, for Bianca di Angelo collapsed, this last act of magic having been evidently too much.
  
  "Anne, Miranda, take her and RUN!"
  
  It said some things, none of them good, that the two Demigoddesses didn't even argue.
  
  Oh and yeah, the stone prison which had imprisoned Ares' giant warrior body?
  
  It was cracking, fissuring, and blood and power were beginning to drip out.
  
  Their time had run out.
  
  It was the end of the adventure.
  
  Strangely, though exhaustion was a burden which did its best to drag him down, Perseus didn't find it in him to be too disappointed.
  
  Most of his plans had worked.
  
  The impossible had been accomplished.
  
  This Great Quest had been all about if testing if once again, mortals could play in the same arena as the Gods, despite the latter being ridiculous overpowered.
  
  And the answer had been positive.
  
  By this point, defiant death or no, Perseus knew he had already won.
  
  Even if he fell today, there would be hundreds of Demigods and Demigoddesses willing to pick up the banner where it had fallen, and continue the good job.
  
  Maybe not in one year, maybe not in two, but it would happen.
  
  The status quo was forever broken; the rule of Olympus was shaken forever.
  
  All remained was to see if he was going to live for another day.
  
  "You are too dangerous to be left alive," the God of War had finally finished extracting himself from his prison of stone. "I think that in the end, just for killing the nuisance you represents, my father will forgive me."
  
  Perseus didn't reply. After all, while Ares might be deluded enough to think his 'performance' in front of the cameras was not going to earn him the biggest punishment of his immortal existence, he was absolutely correct for the rest. The Master of Olympus wasn't going to cry if a rebellious Demigod, aka himself, happened to be removed from the game.
  
  "Any last words to say before I use your corpse as a footrest?"
  
  What was it about all these people being obsessed about footrests? Couldn't they have more normal hobbies?
  
  "Actually, yes." Perseus cleared his throat and grinned. "I refuse utterly your authority. I proclaim myself Champion of Family Values and Peace! Begone, God of War, and never return!"
  
  Loud laughter drowned everything with an ocean of hatred.
  
  "THIS IS AN ISLAND OF WAR! A MIGHTY KINGDOM OF BLOOD AND STRIFE! THE STREETS ARE COLLAPSING UNDER THE BLOODLUST OF THE WARRIORS AND THEIR KILLERS! WAR! WAR IS THEIR ONLY REASON TO LIVE!"
  
  And then the earth shook, the greatest earthquake this island had been on the receiving end of in the last twenty-four hours.
  
  Enormous fissures opened.
  
  The walls of the Coliseum and the giant edifices where the spectators had watched the Labours began to crumbled, with giant pieces of masonry creating a rain of extremely dangerous debris.
  
  "What have you done?"Not going to lie, it was a pleasure to see the arrogance fade from Ares' face.
  
  "I have destroyed the foundations of this island," the son of Poseidon replied calmly. "Per the rules our last High Judge gave, this is perfectly permissible. He said the Twelfth Labour had to be fought on this island. The Titan didn't forbid me from sinking it under the waves."
  
  The island was not going to be contaminated by War anymore.
  
  The Sea was a powerful Domain, and it was going to take its due from that point.
  
  "DIE!"
  
  "I WISH to have peace. If I have to REND everything so be it."
  
  Perseus had known it was going to hurt, even with the help Bianca did.
  
  Sadly, his estimates had been all too accurate.
  
  It was agony.
  
  It was fire inside and outside his body.
  
  It was forcing your heart to continue to beat as enduring the worst physical tortures one could imagine.
  
  The former Tyrant fell on his knees, his forces abandoning him.
  
  But Ares was in an even worse situation.
  
  His attack had carried him over the Promethean cauldron, and now a large wound was bleeding golden ichor over the white flames.
  
  The last step was...it was perfect.
  
  "I...am the King of Pirates. And I declare. All...according...to the plan!"
  
  Perseus laughed a last time.
  
  "I win."
  
  Then everything went white, and it was his turn to fall.
  
  26 January 2007, the Last and Final Game, the Devastation of the Coliseum
  
  Marcus Antonius had the sudden thought to never again argue with a plan which looked stupid, especially if the plan had been made by Perseus Jackson.
  
  The world went white.
  
  Everyone fainted with this one.
  
  This had been very much expected.
  
  Thus when he woke up, the former Magister Equites grabbed the nearest sword he could find, stood, and went in to ram it in the wound of the still-paralysed Butcher of Olympus.
  
  "I gift you defeat, God of Carnage and Butchery. You are not the God of Rome, you who would have made a ruin of every Empire you pretended to fight for."
  
  The drops of ichor falling upon him burned his skin and inflicted atrocious pain.
  
  Ares laughed...maybe, the sound was feeling very much like a series of beast groans.
  
  "Even there, with the son of Poseidon having done all the work, you can't give me a blow who will banish me! YOU ARE PATHETIC! YOU HAVE LEARNED NOTHING FROM ACTIUM AND ALL YOUR DEFEATS!"
  
  "That's all true, I think." It was incredibly difficult to admit.
  
  It was humiliating for his dignity.
  
  But it was the truth.
  
  Exhausted as he was, Marcus Antonius couldn't do more than holding onto the hilt for dear life. Perseus Jackson had been right once again; outside the day of the Lupercalia, his chances to complete his apotheosis were so low that they might as well not exist.
  
  "But...that's what...penguins are for, no?" A Demigod of the Suicide Squad called out.
  
  A second later, the missile that had been launched detonated against Ares' back, and this time, unlike with Prometheus, the God had definitely not seen it coming.
  
  The God of War screamed his hatred and his suffering.
  
  "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IT CAN'T BE! I AM AN OLYMPIAN! I CAN'T BE DEFEATED BY PATHETIC MORTALS!"
  
  Ares began to transform.
  
  His Spartan-like appearance began to fade, bit by bit replaced by something utterly monstrous. Something that looked vaguely boar-like.
  
  Something-
  
  This was the God's true immortal form beginning to materialise.
  
  It wasn't supposed to be-
  
  "I AM GOING TO KILL EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!" Ares proclaimed, the aura of bloodlust returning like an avalanche of blood. "I WILL MAKE A MOUNTAIN OF YOUR CORPSES-"
  
  And then everything stopped.
  
  The Power of War disappeared, as a giant wave slammed into the walls of the Coliseum.
  
  Ares himself seemed to lose a good third of his titanic size in a single heartbeat.
  
  "WHAT IS THIS DEVILRY?" Ares roared, but Marcus Antonius smiled despite the pain. One could clearly hear the panic in the Butcher God's voice.
  
  "You have tried to use your divine form when you were expressly told not to, Ares. Doing so is an admission of defeat. Team Triumvirate and Team Adjudicator won."
  
  The white flames that were a mere feet away had been a bonfire before.
  
  Now they became a volcano of white colour.
  
  Marcus felt himself flying, and crash on his backside several metres away.
  
  This was nothing compared to Ares, who literally crashed into a large mass of debris. Then plenty of rocks collided with him.
  
  This fate, as deserved as it was, did not earn a lot of attention.
  
  Because there was a Goddess coming out of the large artefact, one which seemingly was shrouded in white flames.
  
  Marcus was pretty certain he'd never seen her before. Blonde, most of her body hidden by a white armour bearing no trace of her exploits, and there were no weapons in her hands. It was not Athena. It couldn't be Demeter. Artemis would have already begun to profess her hatred for so many males being present-
  
  "Hestia?" Ares voiced astonished. "What are you doing here?"
  
  Marcus shared his enemy's stupefaction. This was the Greek Goddess of...of the Holy Eternal Flame and Family.
  
  What had Perseus Jackson done?
  
  "It is Aunt Hestia to you." There was a bright flash, and suddenly next to the sword that he had 'abandoned' in Ares' giant body, a spear of white flames was added. "As for I what I am here for, I think it is evident. The Twelfth Labour is complete, and I have been called to deal with a disgrace to my family."
  
  Hestia was not used to being at the centre of critical events.
  
  This had always been true, and the more so losing her Throne among the Council had led to her constant power diminution.
  
  She had been confident that losing a place among the twelve Olympians would not prevent her from making her voice heard.
  
  On that point, she had been utterly and deadly wrong.
  
  "I am not a disgrace!"
  
  The Goddess of Hearth wondered sometimes if Ares had ever questioned himself. There was such a thing about a good General knowing himself in order to mitigate his dangerous weaknesses, no?
  
  "Enough," she said simply.
  
  "No! It is not enough! IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH!"
  
  Ares would not stop. He couldn't stop anymore.
  
  This was why her spear of flames pushed deeper.
  
  Ares screamed in agony.
  
  Hestia wished she could say she didn't take pleasure in this.
  
  But this wasn't the case.
  
  There were many reasons why the chaotic mess that was called 'Olympus' was getting worse since the end of the Second World War, and Ares was certainly among the three biggest.
  
  "Then you don't leave me any choice," the Goddess of the Sacred Flame didn't feel any regret. "POLYOLBOS!"
  
  It was the Domain some mortals had imperfectly understood as her blessings. They hadn't understood that in certain circumstances, the sacred flame was a blessing for someone, but assuredly not the one who burned.
  
  "I am your nephew! I am...ARRRGGGHHH!"
  
  The essence of Ares endured for a second before suddenly a tiny piece tore itself apart from the rest.
  
  Many beings would have been unable to see it with their senses, but Hestia had no such difficulties.
  
  It looked like a wounded wolf; one which had been starved and beaten to an inch of its life.
  
  The poor animal seemed to be born to inspire nothing but pity.
  
  It was weak, terribly so.
  
  But it was alive.
  
  The wolf suddenly realised it was free, for the first time in an eternity.
  
  It took the fragile immortal part of a God two seconds to arrive to a decision.
  
  It jumped.
  
  The end of that move led it landing straight into the chest of Mark Antony, where it immediately disappeared with a bright red flesh.
  
  The Roman officer immediately fell; fortunately for him, his wife was already there to catch him.
  
  Serpentine eyes met hers. Hestia wondered if the expression of the young Goddess was as grim as hers.
  
  "Go," the Goddess of Hearth commanded. She had made the correct choice in this instance; Ares would have not lost this important part of his Roman Aspect if there was a redemption chance for him. "Take your flying ship and leave. Do not return to the Sea of Monsters."
  
  Isis nodded; her relief was evident for someone divine.
  
  Yes, the Triumvirate claimants were all incredibly young and inexperienced. They were vulnerable. No wonder Prometheus, cursed be his name, had intervened in person.
  
  There was a flash of golden magic, and the Egyptian-born immortal Queen teleported away, taking her lover and all the bodies of the Legionnaires, be they alive or not.
  
  There wasn't a single mortal left in the Coliseum.
  
  Hestia smiled. Another God had just appeared by her side, smelling like grapes and fruit juice.
  
  "You sent your favourite Demigod and the others to their ship, I see, nephew."
  
  "It was the least I could do," Dionysus shrugged the matter as if it was no big deal.
  
  But it was, and they both knew it. The opposite would be proclaimed at the next Council session, but it didn't make it any less true.
  
  "They all came very close to dying, but they have the Golden Fleece. I think all those who lived are going to get out of this alive. What will be left of their sanity, on the other hand..."
  
  Dionysus shrugged again.
  
  "They should have never been sent to this Great Quest." Of that, the Goddess of Family had no doubts about.
  
  "But they were, Aunt. And now I think the time to preserve the status quo has long passed. There are going to be massive changes in the days to come."
  
  "Are you speaking of the Council?" Hestia asked as the waves began to wash way the blood and the sand, and the last walls of the Maze remaining standing began to tremble. Poseidon was hardly losing any time erasing this island from the surface of the Sea of Monsters, it appeared. "Or the world in general, Nephew?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "I AM STILL HERE!"
  
  The roar was just a thing of loathing. Hestia hated it.
  
  That's why she turned a blind eye to the fact a barrel of wine came out of nowhere and landed 'accidentally' on Ares' skull.
  
  "OUCH!"
  
  "Have you gone into the depths of the Coliseum?"
  
  "Yes, I did." Dionysus went to drink from a flask that had been hanging on his belt. "I put down a few monsters and guards out of their misery. But there were a lot of empty cages, my Aunt. Too many empty cages to account for, even with the advanced stage of the Games. Some of the smells were of things that were not committed to the arena-fighting. Maybe it is my paranoia speaking, but I think Prometheus used some of his agents to grab some unique resources when Commodus died for the first time."
  
  "This fits how he operates." Hestia grimaced. Many times, she had told her brothers the Titan couldn't be trusted. But it had only been until things went to hell, with the stealing of Fire and what he did to Athena, that finally measures had been taken. It had been far too late, in her opinion.
  
  In the distance, a cruise liner was sinking slowly. It was obvious just a coincidence that the hull was covered in strangling vine and that all the Centaurs aboard seemed to have lost their reason.
  
  "It doesn't matter. You will try to keep the lid on it. You will try to pursue those who have run to hide in the Labyrinth and the other Zones Mortalis." Ares spat blood but managed to remove the first sword that the Roman had stabbed him with. "It doesn't matter. War is eternal! At the end, you all lost. After so many decades to avoid it, after the removal of the other Pantheons, War will come for all of you."
  
  Several of her nephews and nieces began to arrive.
  
  Hestia kept her entire attention on the blood-soaked brute that she would never call 'Family' anymore.
  
  "And this time," the bloodthirsty eyes were those of an enemy, nothing more, nothing less, "you won't be able to avoid it, Hestia! Perseus Jackson stole a part of my own essence to empower you and convince you to take up your Domains once more! Those are my very flames that are giving you the strength to rage against the injustices done!"
  
  "Or maybe," Dionysus intervened, "the vileness you've just shown was so repulsive it resulted in the Goddess of Hearth agreeing with a Demigod that something had to be done about your behaviour."
  
  "I didn't speak to you, drunkard!"
  
  Hestia thought about the points brought forwards for a fraction of a second.
  
  In the end, maybe Ares was more correct than he had any right to be. Maybe she had been too passive, and not selfish enough.
  
  Maybe.
  
  But Dionysus was right too; none of this improvised ritual would have worked if Ares had not turned out to be such a demented and irredeemable individual.
  
  "I will open the next session myself to demand your removal from the Council. And if the motion passes, your Throne will be broken by my hand."
  
  "You are too weak to replace me, old hag!" the pretense of civility was gone once more, and the expression was one of utter loathing.
  
  "I do not desire to take a Throne again," it brought back a lot of memories, and most of them weren't pleasant. "All it matters is that it's not you, Ares."
  
  "I won't tolerate it!"
  
  In a supreme effort which demanded all of his wounded essence's energy, the God of War broke the bindings she had created.
  
  The salted water boiled around his feet.
  
  The elements were carved apart.
  
  The wind howled, and the air began to taste like poison.
  
  Hestia opened a hand.
  
  "My Aunt, I can-"
  
  Hestia glared.
  
  Dionysus placed the hilt of the large mace she had requested.
  
  "I can forgive recklessness," the Goddess of the Hearth took a step forwards, then two more. "But I can't forgive this absolute bloodbath and such murderous stupidity! Did you even pause to consider the terms of the Twelfth Labour, Ares? No! The command was that you had to be 'defeated'! All it mattered was that you had to recognise a defeat, be it by an inoffensive card game, or a small race you would have deliberately lost! It would have been the end, and everyone would have left peacefully! But you couldn't tolerate that, didn't you?"
  
  "You answered your own question, useless crone," the God of War mocked her. "I am Ares, the Destroyer of Citadels! I slaughter men, and I take their women for my pleasure! I am Inexorable! I am the Bane of Men!"
  
  The blood poured into the last things holding the island together.
  
  Fury and brutality proclaimed their vengeance.
  
  Oath was screamed in promise of more blood and brutal deeds.
  
  Ares charged her, insult on his lips, a heart filled with darkness.
  
  Her mace took him on the forehead.
  
  Ares looked her at with a stunned look, as if he had never seen her before.
  
  And then it was over.
  
  The God of War fell, in the very place a son of Nemesis had hours ago.
  
  His head was bleeding heavily the golden ichor of the immortals, and all his wounds had reopened.
  
  But the incredulous expression remained, even as the God of War was completely knocked out.
  
  "This was extremely cathartic, I will admit." Hestia said, shaking her head before turning to see her other nieces and nephews. "Chain him and take him away, Hercules. I believe this insolent and incompetent idiot has a punishment waiting for him."
  
  "Yes, my Aunt, he indeed does."
  
  The Goddess of the Sacred Flame sighed, before looking in the distance.
  
  There, a long white ship was sailing away.
  
  "Inevitable Doom...the name must have been indeed prophesized to be so accurate."
  
  Hestia shook her head and then departed the island for good, leaving it to the other Gods and Goddess to finish the destructive process which was well on its way.
  
  26 January 2007, onboard the Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, Sea of Monsters
  
  There wasn't any sun anymore; the dark thunder clouds had made sure of that.
  
  There wasn't any warm temperatures either; not with the sea in fury all around them.
  
  As tempting as it would have been to go on the deck and enjoy the conditions on a lounge chair, it was really much impossible.
  
  He really had to settle to watch everything from his personal command room, with the Golden Fleece on his skin.
  
  "What a day!" The former Tyrant voiced.
  
  "Let's hope we will have a shortage of those for the time being." Lou Ellen's grip on his hand had become even stronger since the last time. "A lot of things didn't go according to the plan."
  
  "That's kind of the understatement of the millennium," Perseus mused before grimacing. "At the very least, I had hoped to transform back Michael and every 'gladiator' who may have been caught in one cursed transformation like him. As it was, I didn't even found out who sold the Titan all these accursed artefacts. I'm really certain now that it wasn't your half-sister."
  
  "At least Michael is alive. Many others aren't anymore. And this isn't mentioning there are worse fates than death."
  
  The name of Iphigenia wasn't uttered, but it was definitely there, waiting patiently on the tip of their tongues.
  
  For good reason. Perseus wouldn't want to become the Prime Contractor of a Primordial for all the wealth in the world.
  
  "I think the transformations can be reversed, honestly. All that must be done is to kill the sorcerer who did it. Unfortunately, it's far easier said than done."
  
  "Because we have no idea who it is?"
  
  "That's certainly one problem." Perseus agreed with the blonde daughter of Hecate. "But I was going to argue it is going to be incredibly difficult because this unknown sorcerer is most assuredly a member of this 'Coalition'."
  
  "From what we've seen of them, they seem to be a real threat...and a nasty muster of the evillest and cruellest bastards of the Greek legends. The Titan of Crafty Counsel. The giant Snake that also happens to be the Nemesis of Apollo. By comparison, the Triumvirate doesn't look so bad."
  
  "No, they're just power-hungry Romans and beings associated with them who wish to become Gods or Goddesses." Perseus chuckled weakly. "They're almost like business as usual, in comparison."
  
  The worst part was that it definitely wasn't a joke.
  
  The Triumvirate had proven it could abide by truces, and their struggle against the Suicide Squad had existed because one of their orders had been to free the God of War.
  
  Given what had happened during the Twelfth Labour, there was enough irony left to fill a large swimming pool.
  
  "What I find interesting is that they called themselves the Coalition."
  
  "Mark Antony and his accomplices called themselves the Triumvirate." Lou Ellen pointed out sarcastically.
  
  "Yes, but as far as we were able to see, they indeed behaved like the definition of a coalition, as in the momentary alliance in the pursuit of a common goal. The Sire of the Drakons did act independently, and didn't seem to coordinate much with his Titan ally. And when I revealed his presence, he literally abandoned everything in order to prioritise his own interests. The Triumvirate has his problems. But they're not this kind of dysfunctional mess."
  
  "This doesn't make them any less dangerous, unfortunately."
  
  Yes, that was a good point.
  
  "I know. In fact, this gives them strength: if all its members are only loosely associated, they can't be vulnerable to a decapitation strike."
  
  Killing Prometheus or Python wouldn't solve anything; the others, most of them he hadn't the first clue about their identities, would continue to work in the shadows.
  
  That meant he would likely have to leave them the initiative.
  
  It was...not good.
  
  "Still-"
  
  Someone knocked on the door.
  
  "Enter!"
  
  It was Annabeth...and yes, the daughter of Athena blushed adorably when he grinned in her direction.
  
  "If it's for the Golden Fleece, I think I will release it in a few minutes for the next 'hero' in line. Richard, I believe."
  
  "It isn't that, I'm afraid." The speed the daughter of Athena returned to a serious expression convinced him it was really serious.
  
  "What it is, then?"
  
  "Everyone arrived safely on the Inevitable Doom, Ethan is sure of it. But as of the last hour, all the Huntresses except Kimiko seemed to have disappeared. They're all gone!"
  
  Well, she hadn't lost any time.
  
  "I was afraid something like that was coming."
  
  "You don't think they were...kidnapped."
  
  Perseus gave her an amused look.
  
  "We are all brought to what can be gently be called 'incredibly tired', but we have a lot of Telekhines onboard, and Asterius' senses are excellent at sniffing out danger. If no one gave the alert, not even our non-exhausted sentinels, and the protections of the Inevitable Doom didn't activate a single alarm, then it was almost certainly the Goddess of the Hunt calling back her servants."
  
  "It feels rather...short-sighted."
  
  "From her perspective, it really isn't." Perseus took a glass of hyper-energy soda and emptied it in a few seconds. "Kimiko is living proof, for the Goddess of the Moon, that I can indeed 'corrupt' her Huntresses."
  
  "But you didn't...I mean, effectively, you just...I mean, I know it's more than a tongue piercing she agreed to, but-"
  
  "Kimiko made the choice to help me break the slavery chains that existed around Panther Kowalski and the other ex-Huntresses' throats. She prioritised this over the oaths she swore to her Goddess. For this, she is to be praised."
  
  These were sincere words from him. Perseus was genuinely thankful to her; it would have been far more difficult to achieve what he did if he hadn't had one Huntress on his side.
  
  "But let's not try to pretend that it doesn't come with consequences. If we hadn't unofficially received some sort of diplomatic immunity, said Goddess would have killed her on the spot the moment this Great Quest ended."
  
  "What a..." Perseus smirked, and Annabeth blushed again. Yes, he really was a very, very bad influence for her. "I suppose we won't get any reward from her."
  
  "It's best to assume this, yes. We will be rewarded, I have received different sort of promises from a significant number of divine factions, but the Mistress of the Huntresses...it's best to forget it."
  
  In fact, Perseus thought things were likely going to get far worse on that front before they got any better. The 'reinforcement Huntresses' had stayed true to their 'man-hating Cult', they hadn't been with them long enough. But Ellen and Jenna had. And Artemis had called them back.
  
  Yet the two Huntresses may not realise how much they had changed themselves. The wake up was going to be...brutal.
  
  Perseus was willing to gamble it wouldn't take two moons before they were thrown out of the Hunt.
  
  "The weather is getting worse."
  
  "The Master of Olympus has mustered the Council for a demonstration of force." Perseus paused before wincing. "They don't want this island to be a pilgrimage for forces hostile to the Pantheon."
  
  "And how exactly do they think-"
  
  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!
  
  It was a very thing that he had poured so much money into a Super-Mega-Yacht that was so resistant and highly-protected.
  
  Because what did happen on the horizon would have assuredly caused tremendous damage to even a 'normal' warship.
  
  It was like a mega-eruption had just vaporised the entire island where they had bled and fought for the Adjudicator Games.
  
  "That's quite a...statement." Lou Ellen commented with a frown. "They're really going to out to erase Commodus' legacy from the surface of the Sea of Monsters."
  
  "Not just Commodus." The Narcissist One had been a massive problem, but he had never been associated with them in the last centuries. No, unless he guessed wrongly, this devastation was done because Ares had screwed up so massively it was a disaster by itself. "I think they're in damage-mode for other reasons."
  
  "Rico at least is going to be happy and learn the wrong lessons about it," Annabeth shook her head.
  
  Perseus didn't answer; on this one, she was absolutely correct.
  
  "Do we return to the Forge of All Perils first?"
  
  "Actually, no, we have a last destination to visit." Perseus grinned before removing the Golden Fleece, and predictably the wave of exhaustion came back in short order. "I have borrowed the last compass of a set of three from this Narcissist of Commodus. I have now the coordinates for the last island of the Sea of Monsters. The one that only the King of Pirates is supposed to be able to reach."
  
  "One where there's a fantastic treasure waiting for scoundrels like yourself?"
  
  Perseus cackled.
  
  "Why don't we sail forwards to see the truth by ourselves?"
  
  Author's note: This is the end of Endgame, and with it, all the battles of Arc 2.
  
  There is only one chapter left, the Epilogue of the Second Great Quest.
  
  Its title had been chosen: it will be The Return of the King.
  
  You can rejoice, Commodus is dead (twice)!
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  The Return of the King
  Chapter 32
  
  The Return of the King
  
  There was a Great Prophecy.
  
  It announced the return of an enemy the Olympians thought to have vanquished forever long ago.
  
  The Olympians, any other time, would have prepared for war.
  
  But the words of the Oracles did give them pause.
  
  Should the Olympians fight this conflict directly, they would win for a time, but ultimately it would create the seeds for a far greater war, one they may not survive.
  
  This brought a great dilemma to the Council and all the immortals obeying the Ancient Laws.
  
  Challenges were not something the Olympians were reluctant to crush whenever they began to appear.
  
  But this time, unleashing the might of Olympus was not the solution.
  
  After a few days of accusations, feuds, and quarrels, the Goddess of Wisdom stepped forwards.
  
  She had an idea.
  
  The Olympians would gather together a group of remarkable Demigods.
  
  Alone, they were Heroes.
  
  Together, maybe they would be able to become something more.
  
  So when darkness fell, they as Questers could fight the battle that mortals never could.
  
  The orders were given.
  
  They were three commands, unusual for a Great Quest of that importance. But then, there were the fifty most powerful Demigods of their generation.
  
  They were to sail for the Sea of Monsters.
  
  They were to recover the Golden Fleece.
  
  They were to do what the Ancient Laws denied to the Olympians.
  
  I, Prometheus, Titan of Crafty Counsel, was there, watching them.
  
  I observed their exploits.
  
  I sympathised with them, as brotherhood forged their crew into something that could crush armies of monsters and survive the wrath of Titans and God-Beasts alike.
  
  They were valorous. They were courageous. They were heroic. They accumulated a series of unprecedented victories.
  
  I laughed as their legend spread across the Sea of Monsters.
  
  Then I mourned for them.
  
  I was there when in time, they discovered what it was like to lose.
  
  They felt deep in their hearts that their cause was right.
  
  They were fighting for something bigger than their short lives and legends.
  
  And yet they failed all the same.
  
  Some refused to let dread consume them and died.
  
  Some ran from it.
  
  It didn't matter.
  
  Destiny still arrived for all of them.
  
  The Golden Fleece was recovered.
  
  But everything else was ashes.
  
  Brotherhood had turned into hatred.
  
  Victory had disappeared into a storm of corpses and wrecks.
  
  As for Love, it was buried deep, with Jealousy ruling supreme, and this would lead to untold tragedies.
  
  The Great Quest was over.
  
  The Olympians had to intervene, and though victory was won on that day, the very think they wanted to avoid was indeed put into motion.
  
  False tales were spread. Witnesses were silenced. Rumours were twisted to the point no one knew what to believe anymore. Many of the Olympian's children would end up mad, or rejected by the societies that had considered them heroes.
  
  But there wasn't a choice.
  
  The Demigods had lost.
  
  All chance to balance the scales of Fate had ceased to be.
  
  There had been an idea, and it had proved unworkable in the end.
  
  Or had it?
  
  On the same island the Argonauts failed, other heroes succeeded.
  
  Destiny arrived, but the answer wasn't the same.
  
  How intriguing.
  
  Maybe your idea can work after all, Athena.
  
  27 January 2007, the Fields of Punishment, the Underworld
  
  The whips struck before he could say anything.
  
  Gods, it hurt.
  
  It felt like his blood itself was resonating with the pain.
  
  "AARRRGGGGGGGGH!"
  
  The whips were covered with spikes, thorns, and plenty of shark tools.
  
  They struck mercilessly, and then they struck again.
  
  The pain doubled.
  
  Then it doubled again.
  
  He screamed.
  
  He screamed for what felt like an eternity.
  
  Why? Why did it hurt so much? He was dead-
  
  "Look at you. You're wondering I think why you feel so much pain? It's rather simple, you see."
  
  "Murder!"
  
  "The pathetic thing that represents you entire essence has been trapped into one of the latest simulacrum-automatons. It is something reserved for the most favoured lieutenants of our Lord...and for the worst criminals bound to the Fields of Punishment."
  
  The whip struck arms and legs. The pain became torment.
  
  It took it hours before he could find the strength to articulate a few words.
  
  "I...I can't be bound for the Fields of Punishment! I deserve a trial! Every person is owed one, at the end of his life!"
  
  "You did get a trial," the blue-clad Fury informed him. "Remember? It was at the end of your first life. Per the intervention of Apollo himself, you did end up in Asphodel, despite the fact you likely deserved the Fields of Punishment!"
  
  "MURDER!"
  
  The whip of the green-clad Fury tore apart his back.
  
  He screamed.
  
  "But you escaped the Underworld, and doing so, you violated countless laws. Worse, you used this chance at a second life to commit countless abominable crimes. Therefore our Lord decided a second trial was unnecessary."
  
  A collar materialised around his neck, and he was forcefully dragged towards a sinister black structure.
  
  The closer they came to it, the fewer doubts were permitted: it was indeed a massive torture engine.
  
  Restraints of a metal that was darker than obsidian closed upon his limbs.
  
  His strength waned, and for the first time in his life, gaining the attention of tens of thousands of souls nearby didn't bring him any joy.
  
  "Now, Emperor Commodus," the title uttered by the Fury was mockery itself. "Your punishment has already been decided. But before the fun truly begins, my Lord has commanded me to find out from your mouth the honest answers to several questions he's been asking since you reappeared as a High Judge of the Adjudicator Games."
  
  "Go fuck a Hellhound!" Commodus spat defiantly. "I bet this is the only kind of monster who would tolerate your advances, you old crone!"
  
  "Murder?"
  
  The red-clad Fury...laughed?
  
  The blue-clad Fury used a knife and stabbed his left hand. Whatever pain had been inflicted before, it was nothing compared to the sheer suffering that ravaged his soul now.
  
  "For the record," the hiss was low, but maniacal, "the last mortal I had plenty of fun with was the son of Bacchus you tried to kill in your arena. Just for that, Commodus, I am going to make your torture a thing the entire Underworld is going to remember for the next ten thousand years!"
  
  The whip struck three times.
  
  "Sisters! You are my witnesses, the prisoner is refusing to cooperate!"
  
  "Murder!"
  
  "I presume you want to have fun with him first, sister?" the red-clad Fury bared her fangs.
  
  "You presume correctly, sister. Tisiphone? Bring me the nails."
  
  The green-clad Fury seemed to teleport away. Her absence did not last long, though, merely a few seconds.
  
  "I have no reason to speak any secrets if the sentence is to say here for ten thousand years, you know. And by the fault of Prometheus, I am now a werewolf. I will regenerate-"
  
  The box the third Fury had given her sister was opened.
  
  The former Roman Emperor froze.
  
  "Yes, these are indeed silver nails," the blue-clad Erinye smiled carnivorously. "And yes, they are going to cancel your werewolf regeneration entirely. Now, I am sure an Emperor of your bloody past has done some torture in the past. But have you ever tried to hammer silver nails into the spine of a werewolf?"
  
  "No!" Terror became his entire world, and suddenly the tiny objects represented a far greater fear than anything Perseus Jackson and his circus had ever given him. "NO! I WILL SPEAK! I WILL SPEAK!"
  
  "Oh, you will," the chief torturer of the King of Hell chuckled. "But first, I think you are going to pay back for your insult."
  
  Commodus tried to break his restraints. He tried to summon all his strength. He begged. He screamed.
  
  None of it had any effect. And then the torture began.
  
  Calling it the definition of suffering and agony wasn't doing it justice.
  
  The son of Marcus Aurelius screamed until there was no power in his lungs and his throat.
  
  Every part of his soul was tortured like it never had been before.
  
  Everything broke, and the only thought now was to find a way to stop the burning spears shredding his back and his very essence.
  
  "Now, now, those were only twelve nails, one for every Labour that took place in your narcissist arena."
  
  Twelve? But they had never reached-
  
  "Now I believe you are in a proper mood to answer my questions. Or perhaps the insolent Chihuahua wants to give a few more insults before I use the muzzle and some other correctional measures?"
  
  Commodus cried. He couldn't summon anything like the shadow of the defiance he had shown before; now the only things which mattered were the nails biting and bringing him so much pain.
  
  "I...I will tell you everything...please...please just stop...please remove the nails..."
  
  "I may," the Fury crooned. "I may. Now, I believe we have not done the presentations. I am Interrogator Megaera. I want the names of the senior figures of the Coalition who helped you financing these awful Games. Now!"
  
  "I only know of three..." the nails were getting deeper. How could such tiny things hurt so much? "Prometheus...Prometheus was my benefactor, and was most of the time the middleman. I was...I met Midas too. And there was Python. Python and his bat whore..."
  
  There was one more whip strike.
  
  He screamed.
  
  "You can't believe I am going to be satisfied with this?"
  
  "These are all the ones I know the identity of, I swear!" Commodus shouted. "They conjured a shadowy construct with twelve Thrones every time I wanted to make some big request! But several beings were always keeping their appearances shrouded! And they kept distorting their voices!"
  
  No more punishment came, and he continued to speak in a hurry.
  
  "Prometheus was the Chairman. Midas was the Treasurer, and Python was their Oracle. They have someone they called the 'Sorcerer', but I don't know who he is, just that he is immortal. He couldn't hide his power all the time."
  
  "Is that all?"
  
  "No! I mean...it is just...he tried to hide it as best as he could, but I think at least one of the members is a Roman! The way he spoke, the manner he spoke and replied every time I mentioned the traditions of Rome...it would take a Roman to speak without notes. I swear on the Styx I am speaking the truth!"
  
  There was an earth-shattering rumble, but the Goddess of Hatred didn't come to swallow him.
  
  "Murderess?"
  
  "He's saying the truth, sister." The blue-clad Fury stared at him. "How many Thrones did you ever see activated when you were a spectator?"
  
  It took a vivid effort to remember. That reunion had been years before the Adjudicator Challenge was issued.
  
  "Ten," Commodus replied. "I swear it was ten. There was never more than that, and most of the time, it was just the three I mentioned previously."
  
  "Good. Now you are going to reveal the secrets of your crossbreeding experiments."
  
  "But I can't...ARRRGGGHHHHH!"
  
  Pain rose to a new level, and for an eternity, there was only screaming and begging the mercy of the Gods.
  
  "It seems someone has not fully understood the lesson," his torturer purred. "I think the Chihuahua really needs to be re-trained. Sisters?"
  
  "Well, it has been a while since we flayed a werewolf? I support the idea!"
  
  "MURDER!"
  
  The torture engine he was tied to made a series of infernal sounds, then an absurd number of sharp instruments emerged from the structure.
  
  Some in particular came dangerously close to his legs...and the edge of the spikes was shining in radiant silver light.
  
  Commodus froze.
  
  "Let me present to you," the Fury purred, "the Nutcracker. And yes, oh Emperor, it does exactly what you think the name implies."
  
  "NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
  
  27 January 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  The atmosphere in the Council Room was extremely tense.
  
  If there was one fact a witness would have needed to confirm it, it was the presence of Themis.
  
  Yes, Jupiter had requested the presence of the Titaness of Divine Justice on that day.
  
  That the Lady of Good Counsel had indeed answered the call could have been a good sign.
  
  It really wasn't.
  
  Themis was rigorously impartial, and it wasn't a mistake that she was traditionally represented with a set of scales on one hand and a sword in the other.
  
  The Titaness of Order and Justice was beautiful, with her long black-hair and her statuesque figure, but the eyes remained as cold as steel, something Apollo had always felt she shared with Athena.
  
  The black robe of a Judge she wore today just insisted what her role was, and it had never been about seduction or pleasurable hobbies in a forest for her.
  
  "Bring me the prisoner." The King of the Gods ordered.
  
  The gates opened silently, with most of the Olympians keeping solemn faces.
  
  They didn't have to wait for long.
  
  Hercules soon came forwards, holding immense chains. As usual, his half-brother's strength was shown in the most inelegant and blunt manner possible.
  
  But the 'show' of the God of Strength was almost forgotten by the 'prisoner'.
  
  Apollo blinked.
  
  He pinched himself.
  
  No, he wasn't dreaming.
  
  The appearance one certain captive had chosen was truly-
  
  "Mars," Jupiter began in a voice all his children had learned to fear, for it generally preceded the activation of the Master Bolt, "cease this at once, and take back your true appearance!"
  
  The giant boar that was dragged at the centre of the Council Room emitted a powerful grunt.
  
  "I am not Mars anymore! I am Ares the Boar! A proud boar! I was hypnotised by a perfidious hypnotist to believe I am a boar! I don't remember any part of the events of the last twelve days, save that it was Commodus and Perseus Jackson's fault! And Boars always say the truth! Boars can't be judged by the power of Justice!"
  
  The God of the Sun had the sudden urge to jump from the top of Olympus in order to see if contact with the Atlantic Ocean could wash away this hallucination.
  
  Bacchus wasn't that restrained. The God of Wine immediately conjured himself a cup filled with Nectar and several bags of popcorn.
  
  "Oh, this is going to be good," the former First Referee of the Adjudicator Games chuckled. "I didn't think the mace had done so much damage-"
  
  A murderous glare from Jupiter told him quite clearly to stop. Bacchus swallowed his Nectar and went silent.
  
  Then the stormy eyes went back to the boar...pardon, Ares.
  
  "God of War," there was no 'my son' or any form of courtesy, which was by itself a very, very bad sign. "I am, frankly, extremely disappointed in your actions. Your defeat at the hands of the Titaness of the Seas was not your fault; the multitude of crimes I discovered during your imprisonment certainly were, however. You then decided to make everything worse by attacking the very Demigods who had made your liberation possible. And now you waste my time with idiotic excuses! Explain yourself!"
  
  "I am a boar! I succumbed to the vile influence of a hypnotist!" the animal...no, Ares answered petulantly. "I am the King of all Boars! I don't have to explain my instincts! I kill, and I open the guts of mortals with my tusks! It's all they deserve, and it's in the order of things! I am a boar and I can't-"
  
  A large mace struck the porcine head before the divagation could progress further.
  
  "Thank you, Vesta." Jupiter said. Apollo did try to keep an appearance of calm. Their Aunt was definitely in angry mode today, as proved by the red robe and the armour she had chosen for herself. "Themis, if you would?"
  
  "My pleasure, Lord," the Titaness of Divine Justice replied. "We have several counts of mass-murder done against the Ancient Laws. We have at least three counts of using a divine appearance when the Ancient Laws definitely forbid its use. We have about five hundred counts of outrageous behaviour during an Adjudicator Game."
  
  The list went on for many minutes.
  
  "And of course," Themis finished, "in many of these crimes, it has been noted that Phobos of Fear and Deimos of Terror have participated and largely committed extraordinary crimes of their own. That their Temples are empty and abandoned shows quite clearly that their consciences are hardly pure."
  
  "Minerva?" Jupiter asked.
  
  "The warrants of arrest have been issued." The Goddess of Wisdom replied. "They await only your Seal."
  
  "THEY ARE THE SONS OF THE BOAR!" Ares shouted. "GAH!"
  
  The last exclamation was because Diana had just shot him an arrow right just below the tail...a location where assuredly no God worth the name wanted to be hit when incarnated in an animal body.
  
  A second later, Vesta hit him with the same mace again.
  
  In case anyone had any doubts, yes, Apollo was sure it was painful.
  
  "Since the God accused thinks the time of Justice is a comedy, I believe we can skip most of the pleading," the Lord of Thunder and the Skies declared, Master Bolt in his right hand.
  
  "Yes, yes," Boar-Ares must have a death wish, or the Labours of Commodus had indeed screwed up his head something fierce, these were the only explanations Apollo could think of. "You are going to deprive me of my powers, and send me back as a slave to Demigods, same like you did to Hera. I know what the sentence is, go ahead, old whitebeard."
  
  The divine pressure skyrocketed, and even Bacchus hid his popcorn.
  
  Yes, Ares definitely had a death wish.
  
  "I am tempted to do so, I won't lie." The Master of Olympus admitted. "The move seems to have done some good things to Juno."
  
  "Ha! I knew it!"
  
  The exclamation of triumph lasted just enough for Vesta to hammer him again with her mace.
  
  "But now that I think about it, I have no faith that depriving you of your divine powers and your godly Domains would do anything to curb down your behaviour. Themis?"
  
  "He will learn nothing from it." The Titaness of Divine Justice confirmed. "All he understands is the language of violence, and sadly, New Byzantium is a settlement of warriors. He won't be kept away from it, weak or not."
  
  The scales disappeared, and the sword was drawn.
  
  "The punishment must be exemplary," Themis spoke in a voice of steel where no mercy could be found. "Otherwise no mortal will ever have any faith in justice. Boar or Centaur in appearance is unimportant. Ares broke plenty of our most important laws, and in his latest rampage, he proved that even Demigods supposed to rescue him were his enemies. The loss of his Throne and his Olympian Temple is a good beginning."
  
  "WHAT?"
  
  This time, it was Hercules who acted, with a gentle fist strike upon his half-brother's porcine back.
  
  Yes, it was gentle...by Hercules' standards.
  
  That meant several bones cracked loudly.
  
  "Approved," Jupiter answered.
  
  There was no need to react, a long tongue of flame came out of Vesta's hands, and the Eternal Flame slammed into the Throne of War.
  
  The symbol of divine power, a thing which had included plenty of skulls and loot like gemstones and gold, began to melt away.
  
  Suddenly, Ares finally began to understand he had gone a bit too far. The boar's shape began to blur, and the shadow of a Spartan warrior began to coalesce.
  
  The sword of a Titaness struck, and the boar came back in all its brutish glory.
  
  "As you have indeed proclaimed several times," Themis voiced frostily. "You are indeed a boar, Ares. So you will stay as one for the next twelve thousand days. If you fail to show me the so-called 'hypnotist' who was able to put you under his influence, I will add twelve additional days per time you proclaimed it."
  
  This was too much for Bacchus, who began to laugh hysterically.
  
  It was contagious; both Neptune and Mercury followed, with Vulcan and Venus not far behind.
  
  Apollo swore he saw Minerva's lips twitch.
  
  Of course, at that point, the Eternal Flame had finished burning, and the Throne was just a ruin. It was very much akin to a candle which had been used for too many hours. Some power surged back into Ares, but far less than what Apollo had expected to see.
  
  "The Throne of War is no more. It will be replaced by the Throne of Strength. Hercules, my son, you will sit as a member of the Council for the first time."
  
  "I accept the duty."
  
  "You can't do that!" Ares protested, only to stop at the murderous glare of their genitor.
  
  "You will find I can, and I will," Jupiter stated as the Master Bolt projected a lot of threatening sparks. "Treason against the very orders I gave is bad enough, but it came on the heels of incompetence, senseless murder, and a total loss of dignity and self-control. Do you even have the ability to summon your Roman Aspect anymore?"
  
  The boar kept its maw shut. This was all the answer the Olympians present needed.
  
  "The rest of the punishment?" the King of the Gods asked Themis.
  
  "Imprisonment in a way that punishes him for his crimes," the Titaness judged. "Only when he will have learned from his mistakes will he be allowed to work on his redemption."
  
  Obviously, Jupiter wasn't forced to follow Themis' suggestion. There were traditions that-
  
  "So be it," the Master of Olympus nodded. What?
  
  He wasn't the only one to look surprised, the punishment...it wasn't unprecedented, but-
  
  "We need to keep the Gate of Delphi closed now that the Great Serpent is back." Ceres, his Aunt, gave a dangerous smirk. "I am the one who watches over it at the moment, but I could use a volunteer to work on the constant repairs. It will give Ares some humility he appears to solely lack at the moment."
  
  Apollo shivered. As he had done it several times in the past, it was something...okay, it was awful.
  
  "I do not deserve that!"
  
  "Yes, you do," Vesta countered. "And don't forget, you will do it as a Divine Boar."
  
  That was...that was downright vicious, coming from the Goddess of the Hearth and Home.
  
  "I will not forget this humiliation!"
  
  "I can bring a true hypnotist to make you forget it, you know," Bacchus yawned. "That way, next time, you will really believe you are a hairy pig, I mean, a splendid boar."
  
  Ares tried to throw himself at the God of Wine. Before the solidity of the chains could even be tested, he was buried under an avalanche of purple grapes.
  
  "Why you chose a boar baffles me nevertheless. Personally, I would have chosen a giraffe. Giraffes are cute-"
  
  "I AM NOT A GIRAFFE!"
  
  The aghast expression of a boar screaming the five words was something no Olympian would ever forget anytime soon.
  
  For three seconds, there was complete silence.
  
  A second after that, all the immortals present in the Council Room were unable to stop their hilarity from exploding out of control.
  
  29 January 2007, somewhere beyond the realms of Dream and Air
  
  It was a dream.
  
  It had to be.
  
  The place was nothing like the kind of islands that existed in the Sea of Monsters.
  
  She was walking on a sea of clouds.
  
  In front of her, there was a giant golden gate that was taller than a mountain.
  
  It was only as she got nearer that Hera saw how strange the immense structure was.
  
  It was indeed a Gate that was so huge that it was more a giant wall from her perspective.
  
  But the four locks on this golden structure were linked to immense pedestals by different chains.
  
  Three of these metallic structures were golden.
  
  The fourth was definitely not; in fact, it looked like it was made of ice and snow, the very idea of winter.
  
  And the pedestal...the pedestal was the only one of the four to not be empty.
  
  On it, a magnificent white peacock was fanning its tail of pure white.
  
  Hera frowned.
  
  This was way too realistic to be a mere dream.
  
  And she noticed the animal she had transformed into during the Fourth Labour had a few feathers missing.
  
  The next second, the pressure came.
  
  It was very much a dream after all.
  
  "You dared touching my favourite animal."
  
  "I wanted to put it on every pedestal," a slurred voice resonated, and the perfect blue sky was no more, dark clouds replacing it. "Why couldn't this bloody animal obey?"
  
  "This noble and elegant animal," the former Queen of the Gods hissed, "is an essential part of me. You have no right to touch it, Zeus."
  
  "I am the King! I have every right!"
  
  Her ex-husband stepped forwards, although it would be more accurate to say he stumbled and did try to keep his balance at the same time.
  
  Hera didn't bother hiding her disgust at the sight.
  
  The image of the 'respectable head of state' he had tried to cultivate so hard was gone.
  
  Instead-
  
  It would be fair to say that the clothes were still very expensive. But the way they were presented...it was like a popular celebrity had gone visiting a strip-club.
  
  Oh, by the Pit.
  
  The bastard had gone to visit whores and everything again.
  
  "You're drunk, Zeus."
  
  The new claimant to the Throne of Seasons didn't know where her former husband had found Eleutherian Wine, but since Jackson had managed to get some in the first place, it must have given ideas to some.
  
  "Nonsense," the slurry voice got worse, confirming that yes, he was indeed completely drunk. "I just took a sip of this beautiful vintage. My thoughts are purr...perfectly...whatever."
  
  Had she been at the height of her powers, Hera would have already slapped him. As it was, it wasn't the envy that was lacking in her muscles.
  
  "You...got rid of...Marriage...useless Domain...we can have fun together now. None of the...stupid things...fiend...fidelity..."
  
  "Are you stupid enough to believe I want to be your companion again?"
  
  By all the Hatred of Styx, watching him like that, Hera wanted to say she was going to kill herself before allowing him to touch her again.
  
  But there was something wrong, something-
  
  "You were forced to let Jupiter get dominant in the last days. Otherwise, you were going to get accused of violating both Ancient and New Laws, much like our son did."
  
  The realisation was not particularly pleasant.
  
  "You see? You said our son!"
  
  "I could have added our mistakes too. I was blind to Ares' true nature, and I didn't care of the one who should have been protected."
  
  If Jupiter was in control over the Throne, though, everything changed. The Roman part of her ex-husband was not burdened by the same emotions. Power and Dignity came before the carnal pleasures and the desire to protect his children.
  
  Hera didn't know what had happened to Ares, but it had assuredly been unpleasant.
  
  "I need you!"
  
  The white peacock on the pedestal gave her a warning.
  
  Hera was thus ready when a rope of green-blue energy tried to capture her like a lasso.
  
  A dagger appeared in her hand, and the rope was severed.
  
  "No, you think you need an idea version of me, because all the alternatives are worse!"
  
  "Your power is calling for you! Look!"
  
  Zeus went on transform himself into a giant bull, and then drunk as he was, his head smashed against one of the pedestals.
  
  Hera would have facepalmed, if it didn't require dropping down her guard.
  
  "I love...I love you!" The bull mooed.
  
  "How many young women did you scream these words emptying you seed into them while I was cursed into this mortal body? Twenty? Forty? A hundred?"
  
  The sudden silence and absence of repartee gave her very bad vibes that the latter guess may very well be the one closest to the truth.
  
  This was going to result in a lot of bastards being born in the next months.
  
  Fortunately, it wasn't her problem anymore.
  
  "No. When I will merge back with the power that is mine by birthright, it will be my choice, and no one else."
  
  "You let yourself be manipulated by Poseidon's bastard! He's using you! Wake up, Hera!"
  
  "I have woken up," she snarled back at her ex-husband, who by now had a strange resemblance to the Minotaur.
  
  Suddenly, she had a bad feeling about who exactly had fornicated with an Immortal Sorceress to sire the Labyrinth's Monster.
  
  "Many of the things that happened to myself during this Great Quest, I did them with my own free will. Be happy I do not come back among the Council, my first act would be to wipe all your bastards out from existence!"
  
  "So you care, my beautiful peacock-"
  
  The Goddess of Winter conjured a new dagger, this one raging with the fury of a blizzard.
  
  "Continue this sentence, and I will see if one can turn the King of the Gods into a eunuch. For the record, I care very much about the shame and the humiliation you spread every time you cheat upon the sacred vows we swore to each other. Why couldn't you be like Hades?"
  
  "You want me to take two more wives in addition to you? Why didn't you say this earlier?"
  
  This time, Hera had to admit her self-control utterly snapped.
  
  "I wanted you to be faithful like your brother was to Persephone!" She raged. "In the last millennium, he took only seven mortal mistresses! Not a thousand, not ten thousand, seven!"
  
  "My brother purchased the happiness of his wife with credit cards and long shopping sessions!"
  
  "I do not see anything wrong with that," Hera answered bitterly. "Last time I wanted you to take me to Milan where I was going to get my new boots, you told me you were busy, and I found you in the arms of another whore!"
  
  "She was not a prostitute! Your jealousy was ridiculous-"
  
  "You cheated; I reminded you the consequences of your cheating." Hera gave a glance to the three empty pedestals. "I am doing the same now. You found it very funny to have me out of the way for several months; now you're having remorse. Who did Jupiter did find to replace me?"
  
  It had to be this and nothing else; there was no other logical reason for Zeus to be in that state.
  
  The God adopting a Minotaur-like appearance grumbled and mooed.
  
  "I didn't understand that." She remarked sardonically. Cows may have been her sacred animal, and may become such once more, but for now, she had no symbiotic relationship with them.
  
  "I said Victoria...he wants Victoria. Or Nike, if you prefer."
  
  Hera gaped for a second or two, she wasn't going to lie.
  
  Then she closed her mouth.
  
  In a way, it made sense from a political perspective.
  
  While Nike-Victoria was not as powerful as she, her power and her strength couldn't be denied. Martially, the Goddess of Victory surpassed several Olympians; Hermes to name just one.
  
  Yes, as a Queen of Gods, Nike would be obeyed, of that there was no doubt. There wouldn't be a rebellion from other Goddesses, or whispers in the corridors that she was unworthy.
  
  But Nike also was a daughter of Styx.
  
  If there was a Goddess right after Hera more unlikely to tolerate the infidelities of the Master of Olympus, it was her.
  
  Nike was the Goddess of Competitions, and strived to win every activity she participated in.
  
  Ending in second place was anathema to her.
  
  Hera knew that the Goddess had been mentioned several times as a potential betrothed for Apollo, of all Gods. While many times the subject had been opened, every time it had been agreed upon that the bachelor's behaviour of Leto's son made it far too risky to unite those two.
  
  Now Jupiter wanted to take her as wife?
  
  It promised nothing good, and clearly Zeus did hate the idea.
  
  "What a fascinating idea!"
  
  It was not.
  
  Well, Jupiter may find it good; the Roman part loved power more than he loved the carnal activities. He may very well be able to stay relatively faithful to his new wife.
  
  But if it was going to work, it would guarantee the importance of Zeus was suppressed for the majority of the time.
  
  Needless to say, the Greek aspect of the God she had called brother and husband wasn't going to enjoy that at all.
  
  "You are mocking me."
  
  "And you came to insult me while drunk."
  
  "This is your last chance, Queen of the Peacocks!"
  
  "Enjoy your new Council, while you have the ability to attend it, Zeus."
  
  And this time, yes, she ended her repartee by stabbing him.
  
  The dream disintegrated.
  
  The golden gate was nowhere in sight.
  
  The last thing she heard before waking up in her cabin aboard the Inevitable Doom was a genuine scream of pain which brought a smile on her lips.
  
  1 February 2007, the Isle at the end of the Line, Sea of Monsters
  
  For an island that was so difficult to access, it seemed to be almost boring.
  
  There was a small bay permitting a safe anchorage.
  
  The beach, with its white sand, could have been used for touristic ads.
  
  It wasn't going to happen, of course; Perseus had no wish to disturb the giant sea tortoises that were currently nesting on it.
  
  Overall, it was very much the opposite of the location Commodus had chosen to host his ridiculous games: untouched by the hand of man.
  
  There were plenty of fruit trees marking the end of the beach, and plenty of colourful birds were flying between them.
  
  "Perseus, are you sure we're in the right place?"
  
  "No need to worry, Dakota."
  
  The former Tyrant checked his three compasses though, it wouldn't do to have failed to read the signs.
  
  "Yes, we're on the correct island. As for the right place...it is just a few hundreds of metres from our current position. I am beginning to feel it."
  
  "What is there to feel?" Ethan grouched behind him. "We have-"
  
  "Ah, here it is."
  
  The trees ended, the pressure became more intense, and the landscape became rockier than in any part on the island.
  
  "Err...I don't see anything."
  
  "Oh, how careless of me!" the red-eyed Demigod grinned, drawing his sword. "Reveal!"
  
  Reality shivered, before bending the knee.
  
  The effect was both significant and underwhelming.
  
  The skies and the earth didn't change.
  
  However.
  
  Now, in front of them, where there had been only a barren pile of rocks...there stood an immense stele of obsidian colour.
  
  "Ah, better," the son of Poseidon spoke as he stretched out. "Yes, it is exactly as I imagined it."
  
  "This is...this is a sort of stele."
  
  "Yes, yes, it is, my treacherous lieutenant."
  
  The bird had fallen silent. The animals, he was sure, were looking at them.
  
  "And what is? A marker to keep the Primordials' Curses at bay? A warning that if we've trespassed, a tribe of savage cannibals is going to hunt us down for the rest of our existence?"
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "And they say that I have a vivid imagination." He shook his head. "No Dakota, it's nothing of the sort. I'm not sure you can read it, since you're Roman, but surely, you recognise these are Greek carvings."
  
  "These are...they look like names...the elements have damaged a lot of it, though."
  
  "Yes, they did."
  
  "I will repeat my question, what it is?"
  
  "Unless I'm very wrong? It is the marker the Argonauts used to tell the world the last island they landed onto before abandoning their Quest."
  
  "Err...we're not at the end of the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "Does adventure ever had an end?" the Demigod who had once been named Kairos Theodosian mused philosophically. "Besides, the treasure of the Sea of Monsters always was all the friendships we made across the way."
  
  "One day, my mother is going to smack you around for that," Ethan Nakamura drawled. "She doesn't like Demigods who have too much luck."
  
  "It is not luck; it's skill."
  
  "Err...not to ruin the moment, but what does the stele say in the first place?"
  
  "Oh, it invokes the name of the Olympians, and says they have done their utmost, but they can't continue. The Argonauts have...let's see...yes, they did have only twenty-one members left, and since Medea is mentioned here, I believe these are not even the original members of the crew."
  
  "The Argonauts were fifty when they began their Great Quest." The son of Nemesis calmly noted. "They truly endured catastrophic losses to get so far."
  
  "They used the entrance of the Clashing Rocks to enter the Sea of Monsters, and I have a feeling it only got worse from there."
  
  "It is all interesting, from an historical perspective, of course. But that doesn't explain why we are here!"
  
  "Oh, I thought it was evident."
  
  "Clearly, it is not."
  
  "You're all horrible lieutenants," when in doubt, blame your subordinates. What could go wrong? "Watch and learn."
  
  Perseus took two steps forwards.
  
  "My name," the Tyrant laughed, "is Perseus Jackson, son of the Earthshaker. I am the one who went to Hell three times. I slew a Drakon, I challenged Titans, Gigantes and Gods."
  
  And the Sea of Monsters listened to him.
  
  "I became a Champion, and I threw everything aside to become an Adjudicator. I survived a Challenge, and I gave away mantles for divine claimants. I engineered an Apotheosis, and I took as little as possible for myself."
  
  His sword of Stygian Iron stabbed the base of the stele.
  
  "I conquered the Sea of Monsters. I am the King of Pirates!"
  
  The Sea of Monsters roared; it was angry and defiant. It had known no master, and would never tolerate one. The blue sky was melting away, with bad weather arriving from every direction.
  
  "I quit."
  
  Perseus threw the straw hat he had brought upon his sword's hilt, and enjoyed the extreme confusion of the thunderous sentience of the Zone Mortalis.
  
  "I quit. I took what I wanted from the Sea of Monsters, and with my enemies defeated and Olympus willing to give me diplomatic immunity for one more year, I have no need of Kingship."
  
  The trap had been beautiful, one had to admit.
  
  Someone like Blackbeard wouldn't have realised the danger until it was too late.
  
  But he wasn't Blackbeard or any other pirate.
  
  Perseus Jackson laughed in front of the black stele, and many rainbow-coloured parrots decided to imitate his laugh.
  
  It worked.
  
  The Sea of Monsters calmed down. The paradise-like conditions returned.
  
  "Was it really necessary?"
  
  "Yes, it was."
  
  CRASH!
  
  Many rocks fell, and suddenly a large stone stairs that had been hidden for millennia was revealed on the right of the obsidian structure.
  
  "Should we-"
  
  "There's no more danger, so yes, we will assuredly do it."
  
  There were only a few steps, just enough to call it 'stairs'; there was no need for torches or anything to illuminate the path.
  
  And clearly, there had been magical spells at work, given the utter absence of dust and other elements indicating the ravages of time.
  
  "You spoke of a treasure, but I see...I don't see any gold."
  
  "You speak truly, my treacherous lieutenant."
  
  Their eyes got used to the lack of light really fast, and they were free to examine the oval-shaped room they had arrived to.
  
  "Here it is, my friends. The treasure Argonauts and pirates alike have failed to find in all these years."
  
  "Err...Perseus? It is...It is just an immense alcohol reserve!"
  
  And Dakota was doing his best to not be tempted by it, which was almost admirable.
  
  "It is not an alcohol reserve, my drunken lieutenant."
  
  "Oh, good."
  
  "It is the rum cellar! It is the stuff of legends! It is the cellar where all the best rum bottles taken by the sea end up, safely stored away!"
  
  Some of the stuff had to be preserved since the Greeks began to trade overseas with other people. Others were more recent, straight from the Golden Age of Piracy. A few brands looked very recent.
  
  "Rum? The great treasure of the Zone Mortalis was an entire room filled with bottles of rum?"
  
  "My treacherous lieutenant, we were pirates! Of course it would be rum! It is a man's dream!"
  
  Ethan and Dakota groaned together. Perseus grinned. Music to his ears? Yes, it was.
  
  And seriously, yes, it was very much a treasure.
  
  A single bottle here was worth a fortune as a collector's item.
  
  Many were quite unique.
  
  He had seen the list of 'collector beverages' thanks to a few Telekhines contacts, and one or two bottles here looked like they could be sold for a lot of money if you played your cards right.
  
  Perseus wasn't going to do it, of course.
  
  It was his treasure, and he had won it fair and square.
  
  The rum could be reserved for some very spectacular celebrations with the souls he liked.
  
  "I should have expected something like this, I suppose." Ethan sighed. "This adventure was crazy; it makes sense it ends with a ridiculous outcome. Rum!"
  
  "The rum was just the cherry on top of the friendships we swore across our long and perilous adventure!"
  
  Perseus cackled.
  
  In hindsight, he may have laughed a bit too much.
  
  When they departed the island, the rest of the Suicide Squad unanimously agreed to call it 'Laugh Tale', against his wise guidance.
  
  2 February 2007, Auric Base, somewhere in the Philippines Archipelago
  
  Sometimes, Lityerses wondered if escaping the Underworld had been such a good idea.
  
  At the time, he had thought it was an excellent one. The son of Demeter could be honest about that.
  
  Asphodel was dreadfully boring, and Lityerses had never enjoyed boredom.
  
  He needed battles to feel alive. He needed a challenge. He needed duels. He needed to wage battles and feel alive in the thick of legendary duels on par with the single Great Quest he had accomplished several millennia ago.
  
  His sister Zoe had not shared his opinion. She had told him he would eventually regret his decision. She had stayed behind in the grey plains of Asphodel.
  
  She had been right, of course.
  
  Boredom was a thing of the past, but it didn't mean life had suddenly become pleasant.
  
  Why?
  
  It was evident.
  
  The answer could be summed-up in one word: Midas.
  
  His father. His genitor. The man who had achieved legendary fame by being given the power to change everything he touched into gold.
  
  And as surely all people who had ever met him agreed: an awful human being.
  
  Lityerses reaped lives again for his father.
  
  He hadn't exactly a choice: his escape from the Underworld had been made possible under the condition he swore a vow of allegiance on the Styx itself the moment he gained a second body.
  
  "Ah, gold! The first step to Orichalcum! The purity of the immortality made metal!"
  
  The scene was almost shameful, as his father caressed a large pile of bullion.
  
  Lityerses tried to find anything to occupy his mind.
  
  He turned up with exactly nothing.
  
  The ranks after ranks of the soldiers present in the Auric Base were waiting, with a smile upon their lips.
  
  So was his half-sister Hana.
  
  Yes, he had a new sister, of this he had been informed right as he left the Underworld.
  
  Unfortunately, Hana had been just as defiant as Zoe, if not more.
  
  Unlike what had happened centuries ago, however, Midas wasn't in the mood anymore to tolerate dissent anymore.
  
  And now he had the dreaded Motivator Implants.
  
  Yes, the devices had been designed and mass-produced by Midas himself.
  
  Just for that, Lityerses sometimes dreamed of cutting apart his genitor in a thousand pieces.
  
  The sight of thousands of grown men and women smiling in ecstasy like it was an immense pleasure to serve for a man who would not hesitate to sacrifice them the moment one of his whims demanded it...it made the son of Demeter seethe.
  
  Reaping was an act which demanded to know the worth of your opponent.
  
  Reaping demanded you gave enemies and allies a chance to best you.
  
  With the Motivator Implants, there was nothing of the sort.
  
  "Ah, this investment in many gold mines is paying off superbly. Who cares about a few blood diamonds going missing and some methodically chosen Australian magnates being eliminated? Gold is mine! Gold is life!"
  
  This time, Hana gave him a glance.
  
  This gave him a slightest hope.
  
  A hope the personality of Hana hadn't been completely erased by the dual effect of ecstasy rewards and intolerably painful punishments.
  
  It was alas only a hope.
  
  Lityerses had known her for too little time before she received her Motivator Implant. He knew she was a daughter of Eris, and as her beautiful traits made it evident, the Goddess of Discord must have been in a Japanese mood when the coupling affair happened.
  
  It was precious little, and there was no way to know more, not with Midas eager to transform her into 'Agent H' a deadly assassin who was clad in a black bodysuit.
  
  Lityerses had seen Hana kill a dozen men in the same number of seconds as easily as she breathed.
  
  It had not felt like reaping...it had just been butchery. In fact-
  
  "Gold is one of the precious things that makes this dreadful world tolerable! But I forget myself! Come in, come in, Prometheus."
  
  Lityerses blinked, and placed a hand upon his sword.
  
  He had not-
  
  In a heartbeat, a shadow emerged from a nearby wall, one which rapidly coalesced to reveal itself as a tall man in a tuxedo suit.
  
  The scars of the face made it clear that it was no mere man.
  
  It was Prometheus, Titan of Crafty Counsel.
  
  And Lityerses had not had a clue he was there. This was something that was bad. The Auric Base was filled with extremely sophisticated detection technology, but not a single alarm had shrieked to give a warning.
  
  How long had the Titan been here?
  
  "I think you enjoy gold a bit too much, Midas." The Titan gave out a thin smile.
  
  "As long as you don't offer me a suitable stockpile of Orichalcum, Prometheus, consider your opinion duly ignored," his father replied with his usual rudeness. "Why did you come here?"
  
  "I thought that was obvious." The Titan appeared to raise an eyebrow from behind his expensive glasses. "Commodus was a useful tool."
  
  Lityerses saw his father click his fingers. It was a command, and he obeyed.
  
  "Commodus was a fool," the Reaper of Men affirmed completely truthfully. "He had an extraordinary amount of resources, incredibly dangerous assets, and the possibility to become a God if he proved patient for a few days. But he was a fool. He taunted and challenged a son of Poseidon who was ten times more dangerous than him, and he paid the price. Narcissist, from the moment he raped Huntresses to his final demise; Commodus should be the image to go with 'failure' in every dictionary."
  
  Midas clapped his hands in approval. Naturally, Hana and the thousand-plus soldiers of the Auric Base applauded a second later.
  
  It didn't bring Lityerses any satisfaction.
  
  "It's true Commodus failed to follow a few of my instructions." The son of Demeter gave Prometheus an unconvinced expression. It was so marked the Titan sighed and corrected himself. "Yes, he ignored most of my instructions, except on the last day. And by this point, it was far too late for him."
  
  Lityerses didn't add one more word. He had made his point clear, no?
  
  "Commodus was an imperfect tool." Prometheus began again. "But some of his crossbreeding experiments have revolutionised the field. He disastrously failed in the end. He is punished by the three not-so-Kindly Ones as we speak, who are busy teaching him that high regeneration abilities are very much not a good thing when you are tortured. But he proved that certain concepts theorised by the Coalition were very much practical under the right circumstances."
  
  "Practical?" this time, it was his father who voiced his disapproval. "Commodus didn't even manage to get the fifty Thespiades under his domination. The Virgin Goddess didn't incarnate in the vessel chosen for her. We didn't get to see if Commodus was going to implode under the power he usurped or if he had the time to get smashed around by Hercules."
  
  "But as Perseus Jackson proved, the basic ritual indeed managed to create a true Claimant." The Titan removed his glasses and went on to clean them with a delicate handkerchief.
  
  Why did an immortal with perfect vision bother with glasses anyway?
  
  "It was just not the one we wanted or even had considered a single time," Midas mocked his 'ally'.
  
  "Are you able to predict Perseus Jackson's actions?"
  
  This forced his father to shut his mouth immediately.
  
  "No, I didn't think so. So far, only the Sire of the Drakons has proven able to do so."
  
  "He can be surprised, even if he is an Oracle!"
  
  Prometheus' expression, for an instant, flashed with anger. The red eyes were tainted with folly, and a burning wind slammed into the different halls of the Auric Base.
  
  "I didn't hear any of you warning me about these eternally-cursed penguins."
  
  Lityerses hid his amusement behind a sneer.
  
  Midas snorted.
  
  "Many in the Coalition already believed we moved too fast, too soon. Like the Triumvirate, we have revealed our presence to Olympus. The Olympians are still extremely strong. Many have fallen from their Thrones, but their Pantheon retains a lot of powerhouses. They haven't fractured enough to my taste. While the decline is significant, even in their decline they remain far stronger than the Coalition."
  
  "If you wait for their decline to arrive to its natural conclusion, you know what will happen."
  
  "Yes, yes, the accursed Prophecy will send all of us scurrying in the shadows, trying to survive under the ruins of Olympus."
  
  "Indeed. With great vulnerabilities, great opportunities manifest themselves."
  
  Lityerses didn't understand half of what they were saying.
  
  What Prophecy were they talking about? The only one he knew of was about a child of the Eldest Gods reaching sixteen against all odds. And yeah, this one told about a choice which could safeguard Olympus, or topple it.
  
  But it didn't fit anywhere in what his father was doing, save perhaps the 'ruins of Olympus' part. Midas hated Apollo with a passion for 'gifting' him donkey ears...
  
  "You want to have an official meeting of our key members? What convinces you that they will come?"
  
  "The Age of Mediocrity is burning, and we have Commodus and Perseus Jackson to thank for that. If they still sleep, maybe it is time to find new Lords of the Coalition to change the world, Midas."
  
  Lityerses was the Reaper of Men. He had been nicknamed 'Death' by half of the heroes of New Athens in his time. The son of Demeter had honestly forgotten about how many duels he had won in his life.
  
  Still, as the words of Prometheus were uttered, Lityerses felt fear for the first time in a long time.
  
  And yes, Motivator Implants or not, all the men and women of the Auric Base felt it too.
  
  4 February 2007, somewhere in the Amazonian Forest
  
  With the benefit of hindsight, yes, it had been only a question of time until Jenna snapped.
  
  Seriously, Ellen hadn't expected a crowd of ten of thousand cheering and singing her name. This wasn't the way of the Hunt.
  
  No, the Huntress had not thought they would be lavished with praises and raised to be Lieutenants above other Huntresses. There had been too many ugly deaths during this Great Quest, and the shadow of Panther Kowalski and those Huntresses transformed into Nemean Lionesses would take a long, long time to disappear.
  
  But Ellen had desired the approval of the Goddess nonetheless. They had risked their lives and their sanity in these murderous Games, and in the end, the Great Quest was successful.
  
  That should have counted for something.
  
  Instead, they had been spirited away from the Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom by a beam of moonlight.
  
  There had been no warning, and the interval of time they'd been in presence of Lady Artemis must have been inferior to five seconds. And now that she thought really about it, Ellen knew five seconds may be too generous.
  
  There had been no praises. There had been no thanks or congratulations.
  
  There was silence, and an expression of disappointment.
  
  And there were thrown in the equivalent of 'boot camp', in the depths of the Amazonian forest, fighting against dangerous snakes for the right to have a few hours of sleep.
  
  It was...dreadful.
  
  It was unpleasant.
  
  It could have been tolerable if everyone did it, but it was not so.
  
  Ellen and Jenna were singled out.
  
  That was evident from the very beginning.
  
  The other Huntresses, their so-called 'reinforcements' of the Coliseum had taken back their place inside the forces of the Hunt with not a single murmur of accusation.
  
  Yes.
  
  With the benefit of hindsight, it wasn't too surprising Jenna snapped.
  
  The big surprise, in fact, was that it had taken so long.
  
  "You call that archery? Surely your bow must mourn-"
  
  SMACK!
  
  Yes, that was the sound of a fist meeting the jaw of a Huntress.
  
  "Stop her!" the bitch who had insulted her friend screeched as Jenna went on to give a lesson she would never forget.
  
  "Don't intervene," Ellen commanded, having an arrow ready to shoot.
  
  "She is your superior!"
  
  "Superior in what?" She asked as Jenna punched repeatedly the other girl. "Lucinda was absolutely useless in the Coliseum, and the only saving grace was that after the Third Labour, she shut down her damn mouth and stopped her volunteering to spread discord in Team Adjudicator. As far as I can see, the only way she is superior to us is her arrogance."
  
  In fact, given the way Jenna was overpowering her, Lucinda was honestly far weaker than her friend. And she wasn't that good at archery either.
  
  Of course, all good things came to an end.
  
  In that case, the other girls shouted like the cowards they were, and the agitation made sure Nightshade arrived within a minute.
  
  By this time, it must be insisted, Lucinda had received enough marks that even with the blessings of the Huntresses, she was going to need several days of rest before resuming her duties.
  
  "STOP THIS!"
  
  It took three Huntresses to force Jenna to comply.
  
  "What in the name of the Moon were you thinking, you...you..."
  
  Under the rain, the Chief Lieutenant of Artemis was glaring at them like she had never seen them before.
  
  "I can't speak for my friend," Ellen said quietly. "But speaking for myself, I think that what I feel can be said in one word: enough. Enough of all this."
  
  "Lady Artemis saved you!"
  
  "No." Jenna spat out. "No, and this is the problem, isn't it? We weren't saved. Panther and the others weren't saved by Lady Artemis. When Jade called out to her, the Great Huntress never came. There was no salvation. We had to save ourselves."
  
  "You see?" Quite evidently, Jenna hadn't struck hard enough, because Lucinda had still enough strength to squeak out her accusations. "You see? It is as I told you! They have been contaminated by the males! The vile Demigod corrupted them like he did the others!"
  
  "Yes, I see this clearly." Zoë Nightshade approved.
  
  Ellen at this moment felt all her respect for the girl die.
  
  "I understand now," she almost didn't recognise her own voice. "You didn't want us back into the Hunt. You just wanted scapegoats to feel righteous and blame anyone but the Goddess and your fellow Huntresses!"
  
  "You shut up, your penguin-lover!"
  
  Jenna exploded into laughter, despite being neutralised by four Huntresses.
  
  "The penguins were more useful in the key battles than any Huntress ever was!"
  
  Someone punched her, but it only encouraged her to howl her savage joy.
  
  "It hurts, doesn't it? The penguins have done far better than the Hunt! Well, except for Kimiko, I suppose. She had the privilege to sabotage Commodus' ritual and pave the way to our victory!"
  
  "She committed the worst sin imaginable!" Zoë was suddenly there, holding Jenna by the throat, and for a second, Ellen feared the Lieutenant was going to strangle her sister-in-all-but-blood.
  
  Fortunately, it lasted just a couple of seconds.
  
  "You should be ashamed." Nightshade hissed.
  
  "For what?" It was her turn to snap, this time. "For having the incredible temerity to not die when the Gods ordered us to? For using a small fraction of our brains when we were cornered in a no-win situation in front of the Narcissist Predator? For preferring some ugly compromises instead of going overboard and disappearing forever into the depths of the Seas of Monsters like thousands of pirates did?"
  
  "You stand accused," Lucinda's hatred was all-consuming, "of not killing Perseus Jackson like you were ordered to!"
  
  For a few seconds, there was just the sound of the rain pouring over their heads. They were here, in the middle of the large puddles, taking an improvised shower.
  
  But it wasn't important.
  
  They all knew it had come too far to stop here.
  
  Well, better torch everything.
  
  By the maws of the sea monsters, it wasn't like the fifty or sixty Huntresses present didn't deserve it.
  
  "Jackson was right." Yes, Ellen knew there was no return possible from it. "The Hunt has truly become an Evil Lesbian Cult in every way which matters."
  
  "Take that back!" Lucinda shrieked.
  
  "Make me, you flat-chested bimbo," Ellen provoked her.
  
  The Huntress indeed jumped. But Ellen was ready, and a powerful strike knocked out Lucinda for good this time.
  
  "Nice punch," Jenna complimented her.
  
  "Why, thank you, sister."
  
  Ellen wasn't going to lie, it felt good. Yes, there were glares of hatred and expressions of disdain coming from every direction, but at least, the hypocrisy was over.
  
  The masks had fallen.
  
  Artemis had never intended to give them a true chance to return to the Hunt; all the Goddess had wanted was a couple of targets for the Huntresses to feel good.
  
  The Hunt was not to think about everything that had gone out of control during this Great Quest. No blame had to be thrown at the feet of the Goddess or the brainwashing which made sure Lieutenants fell in incredibly predictable traps the moment they came into view.
  
  "You are not part of the Hunt anymore."
  
  Jenna chuckled.
  
  "Jackson saved the Hunt and the Moon, you know? During the Labours, I think he could have won without returning all the stolen power...he prevented the ritual of 'Neo Diana' from coming to completion." The hilarity ended like a button had been switched off. "I know that no girl deserves to be raped and defiled like all our sisters were, but damn, I understand why several Demigods had trouble caring about your fate. You make it all so easy to hate you..."
  
  "The males are pigs!"
  
  "Many are," Ellen intervened, "but not all."
  
  "When did you began to lick Jackson's boots, traitor?"
  
  "You aren't asking if I licked something else? For yourself, it's evident you spent your time worshipping the furred boots of the Goddess!"
  
  "I did not touch her boots!"
  
  "Next time, sister, she is going to tell me she isn't part of a Cult!"
  
  "We aren't part of a Cult!"
  
  The bickering went out of control, and Ellen acknowledged she wasn't sorry at all to listen to it.
  
  After so many weeks listening to the Suicide Squad's conventional and innovative insults, the Huntress discovered how Nightshade and the others were reacting to proper taunts and comical provocations.
  
  The answer, by the way, was 'horribly'.
  
  "ENOUGH! THIS IS UNBECOMING OF THE HUNT!"
  
  "OSTRACA."
  
  Ellen suddenly felt all her strength fail her.
  
  Her knees splashed in the water puddle before her.
  
  What was-
  
  Her eyes widened as a small orb of silver light came out of her chest.
  
  "Ellen, daughter of Eunomia. Jenna, Legacy of Tyche. I consider the vows you swore to me null and void. I cast you out of the Hunt, never to return."
  
  Ellen wanted to stand and scream her anger.
  
  But she couldn't move. She was completely paralysed.
  
  Powerless.
  
  Absolutely powerless, like she had been in her childhood.
  
  It was awful.
  
  She couldn't do anything.
  
  She could do nothing as the girls around her broke ritually her bow and her arrows, tore apart her clothes, and laughed while doing it.
  
  "I will have my revenge," she muttered. "I swear it."
  
  The rain continued to drown them.
  
  It felt like days passed, but in all likelihood, it was just hours.
  
  The weakness faded partially, and Ellen was able to crawl.
  
  Crawl to reach Jenna, who seemed to have endured the entire ordeal worse than she was.
  
  "I don't feel the Moon anymore..."
  
  "I know. I don't feel it either." Ellen admitted out loud.
  
  She heard Jenna sob. Or was it a laugh?
  
  "I don't regret saying it."
  
  "I know. I didn't regret my words either. If they think their stupidity will protect them the next time...well, it's their delusion. I am not going to jump into the trap the next Commodus will have prepared for the Hunt."
  
  It took many minutes to be able to feel their legs could carry them.
  
  By then, of course, they realised how alone they were.
  
  The camp where they had been humiliated and insulted for the last days was utterly empty.
  
  Abandoned.
  
  There were no more tents or any equipment, save the broken items which had once belonged to them.
  
  And of that...
  
  "The bitches destroyed everything we cared about."
  
  "I think they didn't like the revelation they were members of the 'Evil Lesbian Cult', sister."
  
  "Isn't that the truth!" Jenna managed to laugh. "We were really fools all along, were we?"
  
  "We wanted to believe the Hunt was a home and a refuge. But it was never that."
  
  They were called Huntresses. They weren't called 'Protectors', 'Defenders of the Righteous', or 'Noble Female Knights'.
  
  They were Huntresses. They hunted some monsters, and the beings which the Goddess of the Hunt found an insult to her taste.
  
  "Bitches! They left us half-naked, with no weapons and no supplies. I thought participants of a Great Quest were to be rewarded..."
  
  "I think that the hypocrites that pretended to be our sisters are going to proclaim the Lady mercifully left us alive."
  
  "You're right, it's exactly the sort of thing they will pretend." Jenna spat. "All right. We aren't part of the Hunt anymore...but we still have some divine parentage. We can find a refuge behind the walls of New Byzantium. I will...I will curse these backstabbers we called 'reinforcements' later."
  
  "It sure feels that if Commodus hadn't been so awful, I wouldn't feel bad about suggesting they may be thrown into the arena against hungry lions."
  
  "Yeah."
  
  "New Byzantium is far away. We're really in the middle of nowhere."
  
  "One day, the Hunt will pay for all the girls it has abandoned like broken dolls when it had no use for them anymore," Ellen swore. "And I swear that by the time we will pass the gates, I will do my utmost to bribe the penguins so that they repeat 'Evil Lesbian Cult' wherever they go..."
  
  "It's that, or 'Hunting Bitches'," Jenna gathered back her hair into a poor ponytail. "And I'm strangely fine with it."
  
  5 February 2007, C.C's Spa and Resort, Sea of Monsters
  
  The flamboyant rise of the sun over the horizon was spectacular.
  
  Today, it was not getting her attention.
  
  Not when there was a son of Poseidon kissing a daughter of Hecate, while a daughter of Athena was participating in the embrace.
  
  "Quite an unlikely trio, isn't it?" Circe mused next to her.
  
  Medea didn't answer.
  
  "One day, you will have to bury the past, Medea."
  
  "Maybe one day," she grumbled. "For now, my priorities are elsewhere. What is in the chest Perseus Jackson dragged ashore?"
  
  "If I was a romantic Goddess and Perseus Jackson was a normal Demigod, I would have said he would leave her his heart." The Mistress of C.C's Spa and Resort replied. "But I am not, and this is Perseus Jackson we're talking about. In all likelihood, it is a highly sophisticated long-range communication system which will allow the two to contact each other regularly."
  
  "And you don't intend to raise a ruckus about it? I remember you breaking plenty of things you didn't like when you took Apprentices in the old days."
  
  "I don't, as long as the Apprentice is sufficiently wise to not be distracted by it."
  
  Circe intended to make a large investment out of Lou Ellen Blackstone, then. Perhaps one as huge as Medea had been, an eternity ago, when she visited the Sea of Monsters for the first time.
  
  "You intend to give her the full 'Immortal Sorceress course', then." Arguably, the times were dangerous for all sorceresses, Medea herself was the living evidence of that reality.
  
  But that Circe had decided to go with it was remarkable nonetheless. Fewer than ten witches had ever received the offer from the Goddess of Illusions and Transformations.
  
  "Yes." Medea knew instinctively Circe was going to change the subject now. "They've achieved what your crew couldn't do."
  
  "I haven't thought of them as my crew in a very long time," Medea admitted.
  
  And yes, it was the truth.
  
  It didn't hurt that much anymore. Time had a way to mend your wounds, and most of the Argonauts were dead now.
  
  Castor and Pollux remained, and obviously Hercules was still around. She'd heard the sons of Boreas had received immortality in the end too. Apparently, the comic relief always survived when others fell.
  
  The others? They were dead, and many times Medea had wished she could be with them in dark times.
  
  The Love Curse that had led her to join the Argonauts had been a lie, but what she had lived aboard the crew had been real.
  
  For the first time, she, the Princess of Colchis, had had true friends.
  
  Her eyes fell upon the immense white ship that was anchored in the distance.
  
  For a few seconds, Medea didn't see the Inevitable Doom, the ship which had survived the wrath of a Titaness and several extreme dangers.
  
  No, for some short amount of time, she was seeing back the Argo in all its glory.
  
  And her heart filled with melancholy.
  
  "It is not too late, you know."
  
  The Immortal Sorceress knew Circe wasn't speaking about this accursed Centaur form she had been cursed with.
  
  "They are dead. We all died on...the Argonauts died there. We just pretended to not notice, but we as Questers died in the Sea of Monsters. When we sailed out, we were broken remnants of what had been the strongest group of heroes and heroines ever assembled. We pretended for a time. But we were just going through the motions."
  
  Medea closed her eyes for a moment. She wasn't going to cry. Tears had never done anything to solve one of her problems anyway.
  
  "Of course," she tried a more ironic tone, "I suppose we never considered the possibility of putting the craziest Demigod of the crew in charge. Nor did we consider that the most idiotic members were going to be the strongest assets, when used unpredictably."
  
  "I don't think anyone truly saw it coming. Not really. It took them taking over the Forge from the cold dead maw of the Primordial Drakon, and even then..."
  
  On the beach below them, the embrace and the kisses were over. Their young half-sister was marching towards them, chest in her hands, and she wasn't looking back. Medea admired the determination of Lou Ellen Blackstone, if nothing else.
  
  "I must point out that you didn't offer an Apprenticeship to the daughter of the Dark One."
  
  "Do I look like I lost my sanity in the last hours, sister?" Circe looked at her perfect purple nails. "The Lightning Thief doesn't need any formal magical instruction from me. I had to use half of my non-divine form to crush her as fast as possible. That's just unprecedented for a young Demigoddess of her age. Besides, I am not in the habit of training a viper that could turn her fangs against me. Perseus Jackson thinks he can control this one? I leave the privilege to him."
  
  "That's probably the best course of action, yes." The Princess of Colchis said out loud. "By the Pit, she managed to temporarily alter an artefact that the Titan of Crafty Counsel considered one of his most malicious tricks."
  
  The Cauldron which had been used to create the First Lycanthrope was not a child's toy. It was a redoubtable weapon, and one the majority of mortal wizards and witches in this world would be unable to manipulate without being transformed into werewolves themselves.
  
  "But in the end, the Titan couldn't have accomplished it without the Bane."
  
  "Yet you stayed silent, and didn't inform the Suicide Squad."
  
  Medea breathed out.
  
  "You think I was wrong?"
  
  "Perseus Jackson is resourceful, and he has proven his ability to dispose of such threats." Circe's tone was neutral, but the fact they were speaking about a male Demigod and she wasn't cursing his name spoke volumes about the son of Poseidon.
  
  "Not like...the monster is cunning, and did not earn the title of Bane of our mother for nothing." The Princess-turned-Centaur grimaced. "In hindsight, I shouldn't be surprised this enemy is part of the Coalition. He was there to defeat us, Argonauts. He has always been there to be the Bane of the children of Magic. Of course he would be acting behind the scenes to bring the downfall of more Demigods and the last survivors of the Argonauts."
  
  "As long as he is alive, the odds of you breaking the Curse and returning to your normal body are very slim."
  
  "I know." At first, she had been in denial, but when your spells all told you the same answer, this wasn't an option. "And the longer the Curse is active, the more difficult it will be. It is not exactly impossible that within a year, I will need to craft a true Curse to forge a human body, assuming of course I can kill the Bane."
  
  Yes, it had been something deliberate from Prometheus and Commodus.
  
  No, Medea didn't believe for a single second the Titan and his lackey had ever considered a noble goal to justify their ignoble actions.
  
  "The Coalition promises to be a particularly dangerous and amoral enemy which makes our allies of the Triumvirate look like humble, modest, and caring rulers."
  
  "Is it surprising?" Circe asked. "There's a reason why I decided to take a true Apprentice once more. The years to come are going to be very dangerous, and we, the daughters of Magic, are going to need all the allies we can rally to our side."
  
  In the future, Medea and many others would agree that the words had been particularly prescient.
  
  Madness was coming.
  
  And despite the folly that had spread during the Adjudicator Games, they weren't ready for it.
  
  6 February 2007, Super-Mega Yacht Inevitable Doom, departing C.C's Spa and Resort
  
  It felt strange reporting to Jackson.
  
  Kimiko had been used obeying the orders of Phoebe like they came from the Goddess' mouth herself...but Phoebe was long dead, and the connection between the Moon and her soul had been severed forever.
  
  It was something difficult to describe.
  
  The former Huntress wasn't going to say it akin to a slavery collar being broken, nor was it something she would equal to absolute freedom...it was different, that was all.
  
  Jackson was looking at the window when she entered. Or rather, he was looking through the glass at the island disappearing several nautical miles away.
  
  His expression was as far removed from the grins the Suicide Squad was used to as it was possible to.
  
  "The Great Admiral Perseus Jackson, feeling melancholic?"
  
  The red eye immediately turned towards her.
  
  His tongue clicked.
  
  "Melancholia may be an apt term, or it may not be." The Demigod who had ensured Commodus died twice answered before falling upon one of the seats of the conference room, all the while waving at her to imitate him.
  
  Wordlessly, Kimiko did as she was told.
  
  "But I'm sure you didn't come to ponder with me deep philosophical questions."
  
  "No," Kimiko confirmed. "My tongue has returned to its normal appearance, and the tail disappeared this morning. You held your part of the bargain."
  
  The black-haired girl stuck her tongue out, and touched the reason of her good fortune.
  
  It was a simple ring.
  
  It was the ring piercing her tongue.
  
  And even with eyes closed, Kimiko felt it was brimming with power.
  
  "It is good to see that in that regard, everything went according to my plan." Kimiko did raise an eyebrow, because the voice remained flat, absolutely empty of gloating. "I theorised from the start that while Nocturna's transformation was irreversible, all the Curses the Sire of the Drakons had spread all over the Forge of All Perils may not be so permanent. One way to remove them was for the God of the Sun's sworn enemy to remove them in person, of course. The other, far more delicate, was to overwrite the first curse with another, one sufficiently powerful to grind down the enchantment by sheer power."
  
  "In other words, accomplish where the Gorgon sisters had failed when they decided to get Possessed by the Eidolons."
  
  "Exactly."
  
  "How confident were you that it was going to work?"
  
  "I was confident enough that the person who was destined to use it at first was no one but myself."
  
  That, at least, surprised her completely.
  
  "You?"
  
  "Me. Don't be surprised, oh Legacy of Harmonia."
  
  Kimiko sighed. Having revealed her lineage to someone not of the Hunt didn't take long from slamming back in her face.
  
  "Fine, I am just confused. This kind of powerful artefact is clearly very rare and unique; it must be very ancient."
  
  "The Telekhines forged it, and I helped for the finishing touches when it became evident you were going to be the recipient of it, not me."
  
  The former Huntress didn't know how long she stayed there, gaping.
  
  "You did what?"
  
  "I convinced the Telekhines to forge an Orichalcum ring," Perseus Jackson replied smoothly, his eyes staring at something far away from the Inevitable Doom." They have the expertise, and we had just enough metal for this ring. From there, I, using my past knowledge and plenty of talents that I won't bore you with, cast a ritual to make that ring a receptacle which will slowly absorb the sloth of different beings into it."
  
  Kimiko stopped sticking her tongue out and closed her mouth.
  
  She didn't ask if the Ring was going to be removed now; the answer was incredibly evident.
  
  "What sort of changes can I expect in the days to come?"
  
  "Right now? None. I sealed the power of the Ring of Sloth before we healed you with the Golden Fleece. I wasn't sure of the physical or mental consequences, never mind the magical ones, and it wasn't the time to test it."
  
  "That's very generous of you."
  
  Though she was sure there were going to be problems-
  
  "It isn't going to last." Yes, of course, nothing could be that good and free of consequences.
  
  "Give me the bad news, I can handle it."
  
  Perseus Jackson snorted.
  
  "We will see about that, won't we? But very well, cards on the table. The Ring of Sloth effectively creates a daemon by absorbing all the emotions which are linked to Sloth, like exhaustion, lack of interest, weakness of temperament to enact the slightest effort. Your choice is simple: you can let all the power growing on its own until it becomes independent and self-aware, which will likely need several months according to my calculations."
  
  "Or?"
  
  "You become the daemon." Perseus replied calmly while handing her a glass filled with fruit juice that he had levitated out of nowhere. "You take Sloth into your soul, and let the power change you."
  
  Kimiko grimaced.
  
  "This sounds darkly familiar. Wasn't what happened with the Eidolons possessing the Gorgons?"
  
  "It would be if you're letting a daemon inside the Ring grow self-aware, and then try to absorb all the power into yourself." The son of Poseidon smiled. "Which would be a stupid idea, by the way."
  
  "That's not reassuring." The former Huntress remarked before passing both hands in her long black hair, all the while she was frowning. "I presume there are going to be physical and mental changes."
  
  "Yes." At least the leader of the Suicide Squad didn't pretend otherwise. "Though I think we will able to have a certain amount of control over the physical changes. The mental ones...well, I won't sugar-coat things: you will be slothful. A lot."
  
  "Fantastic," and no, it really wasn't. "What do you gain in all of this?"
  
  "Well, first, I was able to kill Commodus and not having to kill his Nemean Lionesses' protectors in the process. You will have to admit, I fulfilled more than my part of the bargain here. Your friends escaped free with Piper McLean, forever free from this rapist."
  
  That was...a good point damn it.
  
  "But yes, I have to admit I had another reason, as important. I want control."
  
  "You had control for most of this Great Quest." Kimiko replied hesitantly. Seriously, most of the time the 'everything went according to the plan' was the truth, no matter how impossible it should be.
  
  "Aphrodite cursed me with Lust."
  
  Ah. Oh yeah, she'd almost forgotten this one.
  
  "Unfortunately, while what I did inside the Coliseum was sufficient to appease the Goddess, it was not sufficient to convince her to cancel the Curse altogether. I feel the Lust inside me. It is dormant at the moment, but it can reawaken at any moment. When we will back at New Byzantium, behind safe walls, it won't be that much of a problem. But during a Great Quest, should I be mentally or physically compromised in the middle of a battle-"
  
  "It could spell disaster for all the Questers," the former Huntress finished. "Yes, I see. You want what I will become to be a rampart against Lust if it is necessary."
  
  "Yes. Naturally, I am largely going to pay for your services. While we will be at New Byzantium, all your equipment and living expenses will be paid by my accounts."
  
  "In effect, I will be one of your vassals."
  
  She wasn't going to lie; the whole offer was tempting, very tempting.
  
  Still, there was something she had on the tip of her tongue, and no, it wasn't a joke.
  
  "What happens if your Lust overwhelms my Sloth?" Kimiko paused for a second. "I don't want to sound like I'm defenceless or anything, but I have to be realistic, Jackson. I am a Legacy, and not of a very powerful Goddess at that. You, on the other hand, are the son of the ruler of the Seas, and a particularly powerful Demigod who took a sliver of the Sun, bathed in Titan's blood, and took more boons besides it."
  
  "It is a risk; I am not going to lie." That was not- "Though I have also discussed various counter-measures with Lou Ellen too. Obviously, right now, she doesn't have the skill or the power to cast them. But training can change a lot of things."
  
  Kimiko grimaced deep inside her head.
  
  She wasn't fond of the option. On the other hand, letting a pseudo-Eidolon getting more and more powerful on her very tongue was not exactly safe either.
  
  Sooner or later - and with the Suicide Squad, it would always be sooner than later - the Ring of Sloth was going to be unsealed, and its power used, to save her life if nothing else.
  
  The Coalition was there, into the unknown, and only an idiot would believe the death of Commodus had been the end of their ambitions.
  
  "Fine. I will do it. I will just request the unsealing of the Ring won't be done in public. That we wait until we're in a safe place at New Byzantium."
  
  "That I can do. Drink?"
  
  Kimiko gaped for the second time of the conversation.
  
  "What? Did you expect me to begin a long and dramatic monologue here and now? Or to suddenly feign my Lust activating, and how your assistance is immediately necessary? That I lied and I want to show you how 'talented' the children of Poseidon are in certain fields of Lust?"
  
  Kimiko went instantly crimson.
  
  "No, nothing is going to happen. Your agreement is enough right now."
  
  "Are you sure you aren't an impostor?" the former Huntress blurted out.
  
  "If it's an invitation to once again raise the banners of Madness and turn this Quest into a festival of holy craziness, I assure you, I have plenty of plans that have not been used so far."
  
  "NO!" She decreased the volume of her voice. "No, no need to do some...mad things."
  
  "Thought so," this time, the bastard was truly gloating, and it was absolutely her fault.
  
  Damn it.
  
  7 February 2007, the former Luxor Temple, Luxor, Aegyptus, the Reborn Domain of Isis
  
  "I had known having a true God on our side would change things, Imperator, but I hadn't realised by how much."
  
  "You're kind of preaching the obvious, Lucius," Marcus Antonius replied. "However, I can't deny that you're absolutely right."
  
  When you didn't have the abilities of the immortals on your side, things were hard.
  
  You could accumulate entire fortunes and in a few centuries, become wealthy enough to earn a title of multi-billionaire. You could buy enough land to be a very wealthy land magnate.
  
  But with the Mist, good luck trying to convince anyone you were indeed a man who had been born centuries ago.
  
  It was also extremely difficult to push for anti-Olympian actions when the first overt move could result in Jupiter striking you with his Master Bolt, ending your plan by virtue of nothing remaining but ashes.
  
  All of this was true. And all of it didn't matter.
  
  "It took five days."
  
  "Yes."
  
  Though to be honest, the seed had been planted in a few hours.
  
  The five days had just been...overkill, as some Demigods of the Suicide Squad would say.
  
  As dawn came on that day, a third of the population of Luxor had cast aside its previous religious allegiance, and acclaimed his wife as their Goddess-Pharaoh.
  
  In mere minutes, the streets had been filled with the praises of Isis.
  
  And from there, more men, women, and children had rallied.
  
  And from there, Luxor belonged to Isis.
  
  "I can't say I am exactly fond of Black Mambas, Imperator."
  
  It wasn't a coincidence that one of said snakes was enjoying the sun in front of them at all.
  
  "The Black Mambas are my wife's favourite animal."
  
  Otherwise, she wouldn't have been to transform herself into one to fight Ares.
  
  "It wasn't a criticism, Imperator."
  
  "Oh, I know."
  
  And Marcus went back to his humble chair, as his legs were beginning to shake again. Truly, he was very much regretting not having the Golden Fleece at his disposal.
  
  Where certain Demigods would heal in mere minutes thanks to it, he like every one of his surviving men had to heal in a more traditional manner, one which required a lot of time.
  
  "My wife is rebuilding the Luxor Temple as the heart of her new Domain," the former Magister explained. "In ancient times, it wasn't dedicated to a God in particular, but to the coronation of the Pharaohs."
  
  "But she is changing that."
  
  "Yes."
  
  One couldn't deny the obvious, after all.
  
  Already many of the small statues on the entrances had been entirely re-shaped as stone Mambas.
  
  The statues of ancient Pharaohs were erased or faceless, with many beginning to be moulded anew in forms more representative of the new divine mistress owning the grounds.
  
  The Temple was being rebuilt, but it wouldn't be a mere copy of the ancient Luxor Temple; it was going to be a true Temple-Palace, one worthy of the Goddess-Pharaoh inhabiting it.
  
  It would be a divine construction.
  
  Already, the Nile was cleaner and stronger than it had been in decades, and water nymphs were rotating out of it to restore walls and ancient water works to a glory that had been absent for the last centuries.
  
  Many obelisks were rising up, while broken columns were reassembled.
  
  Needless to say, the number of worshippers increased proportionally as a result.
  
  There were now hundreds of thousands of people worshipping Isis, and the entire city was shimmering into lapis-lazuli and golden lights, though the effect was only magnified at the still-incomplete Temple-Palace and its surroundings.
  
  "I see all of this Imperator, and yet I can't help but think it seems...too easy. That the Olympians are going to act. That they will strike back."
  
  "I felt the same at the beginning." Marcus Antonius admitted truthfully. "But they can't, Lucius. As arrogant as the King of Olympus and his unworthy children can be, they have to respect the Ancient Laws. In practical terms, this means respecting the Domain of a God or a Goddess, no matter how much they dislike him or her. Isis chose to settle here, and impose her Domain upon this city and the Nile flowing on its doorstep; they can't act without receiving a lot of attention from beings higher and more powerful than them."
  
  The Primordials of Fate and Night, specifically, didn't like it at all when you violated the Ancient Laws.
  
  "I understand, Imperator."
  
  Lucius really didn't, actually.
  
  Otherwise he would understand how vulnerable Isis had been when she had been deprived of a Domain in the Coliseum.
  
  It had also been one reason why he had not believed Jackson would really agree with the exchange before the Adjudicator Challenge came around. Marcus couldn't have tried to usurp Mars without his wife; but the Olympians would definitely have been able to keep his wife captured for long enough to change her into one minor Goddess subservient to them.
  
  "Well, at least several of us survived," the Praetor continued. "I would say we escaped with our sanity intact, but several of the Legionnaires still believe they're destined to be peacocks to Her Supreme Majesty the Peacock Queen."
  
  Marcus Antonius made a sound which alas too close to despair for his taste.
  
  "Please, don't mention peacocks anymore. No matter what I do, I am unable to erase the Fourth Labour from my mind...or any of the others, for that matter."
  
  It may have been only a game from the point of view of spectators watching it somewhere that was not the monument to Commodus' vanity, but when you were an active participant, it was a far more traumatising experience. Commodus and Perseus Jackson had made sure it would, as did Commodus and several other parties.
  
  "Yes, best to forget the peacocks."
  
  Lucius saluted, and fled as fast as proper Roman dignity allowed.
  
  Marcus turned his head, and she was here.
  
  Once again, her appearance was perfect and sublime.
  
  Her skin was slightly tanned, and absolutely flawless. Her black hair was like one of the Nile cataracts, the flow of it continuing until it reached her hips. She wore nothing but a simple white robe of silk, and the traditional royal diadem with a Black Mamba of gold proclaiming her authority.
  
  She looked young, exactly as she would have been when she was twenty or twenty-two.
  
  And everything in her was Grace and Love.
  
  Marcus didn't see her move.
  
  He definitely felt it when her lips touched his.
  
  It was warm, powerful, and it was like a fabled Water of Life was poured into his mouth.
  
  "Better?"
  
  "Better." His strength was returning far faster now.
  
  "Oh, good," the eyes of his wife burned like enchanted lapis-lazuli. "I was testing this new power for the last minutes. I am so glad it works. And it means I won't feel guilty about that."
  
  Instantly, a grip stronger than what any Demigod could bring to bear was tightening its grip around his arms, his legs...and something between them.
  
  It felt like a giant serpent had its coils trying to crush him.
  
  "Good! Now, husband, while I am perfectly flattered that you wanted to free me on the spot, I am not going to close my eyes on the stupidity of challenging Perseus Jackson to something he had evidently prepared for! Defending my honour and fighting for me can seem very noble from an outside perspective, but I would love that you refrain from idiotic gambles, especially ones where you don't have a chance of winning. Am I clear, or must I use more of my abilities to print the message in a more permanent fashion?"
  
  "No! No, you are very clear, Isis."
  
  "Good." The sensation of cold scales disappeared, and the pressure was lifted. "Don't do this again while there's a perfectly good alternative. I assure you that if you do, you will sleep in a very cold bed for many, many nights, and you will have a large nest of Black Mambas to keep you company."
  
  "I...I won't."
  
  "For your sake, I hope so." The large fangs which had been there for a few seconds disappeared as quickly as they had been summoned. "Now that we've calmly and properly discussed the state of our couple, I believe it is time we contact our fellow Triumvirs. There are plenty of matters that we must discuss with them."
  
  9 February 2007, Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, just outside the Forge of All Perils
  
  It was a respectable fleet of little boats that had assembled for the Inevitable Doom's final stopover.
  
  Obviously, some were supply boats; the crew of the Super-Mega-Yacht had eaten voraciously into its food stocks, and now they needed to refill everything, beginning with the water and ending with the sweets.
  
  Ironically, it may be over what was necessary, as the surviving Telekhines of Team Adjudicator had 'deserted' their ranks the moment the Forge was near.
  
  Luke wasn't going to blame them; the Twelve Labours had been pure madness, and one couldn't help but think that their commanding officer was the biggest source of craziness in the entire Zone Mortalis.
  
  "My friends! Lend me your ears! I have dreadful news!"
  
  "Here we go again..." Dakota groaned in despair.
  
  "Despite my vigorous supplications, Olympus has refused to let me keep the Red October as my new submarine flagship! Something was said I couldn't be trusted with nuclear power!"
  
  "Amen to that," Elvis Knight commented.
  
  "Wait." Clarisse frowned. "That's good news, right? You won't be able to declare war on some innocent parties and sink all their trade ships without being noticed?"
  
  "You're all horrible and treacherous lieutenants!" the mad Demigod proclaimed, all the while his grin didn't falter.
  
  Luke sighed. Oh, great. That meant the 'bad news' just announced had to be the vanguard of the trouble.
  
  "Obviously, since we are generous souls, the Commander Marko Ramius and his officers will be our honoured guests among the Expeditionary Force. The Jupiter Invictus, lacking plenty of extra-crew for some reason I can't fathom, has volunteered for the honour of transporting them to New Byzantium, free of charge."
  
  Luke blinked. He would have thought that between the lack of Telekhines and mercenaries, the son of Poseidon would have wanted the submarine officers aboard the Inevitable Doom, but clearly he had been wrong.
  
  Many Telekhines clapped their fins in approval...they must have been paid to do it, of course. The cardboard 'APPLAUSE' held by Annabeth was a very big hint in that direction.
  
  "I also can announce on that glorious day that Anne Bonny is temporarily leaving our ranks, in order to pursue her dreams of Pirate Queen!"
  
  "Permanently, Jackson," the daughter of Demeter rolled her eyes as cheers spread. "The word I used was permanently. No offense, but this adventure was just way too crazy for me. I'm returning to far less dangerous things, like sailing normal seas, pillaging the coasts, and looting everything that blue-blooded parasites deny to humble pirates."
  
  "The world changed outside the Sea of Monsters." The grin was maniacal. "But if it's your decision, who am I to deny your request? The Bombardment Galleon is yours, try to not damage it, I have grown fond of it."
  
  The Demigoddess merely snorted, and jumped overboard, pirate tricorn in hand.
  
  "We're really losing plenty of our members, do we?" Miranda Gardiner's irony was incredibly obvious.
  
  "Jackson seems convinced it is only temporary," the son of Hermes sarcastically replied. "Are you going to bet against him?"
  
  "Oh...well, when you look at it like that, no."
  
  Yeah, no one that was currently on the deck of the Inevitable Doom wanted to lose several Drachmas for something that was not so much a bet as a near-prophecy.
  
  One couldn't help but think of the island they were just anchored nearby; with the blue sky, the hot touch of the yellow sun, no clouds, and all the coastal bastions the Telekhines had built in their absence, the Forge of All Perils was completely unrecognisable from the sinister icy vision they'd been granted when they discovered it.
  
  "Now for the very good news."
  
  "Can't we skip them?" Jade asked hopefully.
  
  "No, you can't," Perseus declared joyfully. "Due to how efficient the comic relief...I mean, my noble duo of penguin lieutenants has proven to be, I have decided to expand their ranks! Telekhines, assemble! I want you for the Grand Penguin Battalion! Who needs bear cavalry, when you have penguin infantry?"
  
  Naturally, several Telekhines decided discretion was the better part of valour, and immediately plunged deep, far away from the madness.
  
  "But if you think penguin infantry is not for you, we have plenty of alternatives! We have rocker-hare reconnaissance forces!"
  
  More Telekhines and nymphs decided to disappear into the depths of the Sea of Monsters, or outright swim away as fast as they could.
  
  "I am also studying the incredible potential of moose cavalry!"
  
  A Telekhine raised his fin.
  
  "I like eating moose. It's a fine delicacy-"
  
  "I will transform you into a fine moose, of course, proud Telekhine lieutenant-"
  
  The sea monster understood that it was not something he wanted to be part of, and executed a long jump before combining it with a very hasty retreat.
  
  "And finally, the ultimate striking power: the Parrot Air Force!"
  
  More and more volunteers chose this moment to take their leave, for some unfathomable reason.
  
  "You're going to experience some recruiting difficulties, if you want to expand the ranks of the Suicide Squad," Drew joked, as two-thirds of the small boats were now empty, and others were trying as best as possible to put the greatest distance possible between them and the madness.
  
  "Good help is so difficult to find, these days," Perseus Jackson replied, giving a semi-disappointed glare to the daughter of Aphrodite. "But have no fear: this is only the beginning!"
  
  "Yes," Ethan drawled. "That's what the entire world is afraid of!"
  
  "Be quiet, treacherous lieutenant! The imminent invasion of Canada might or might not be cancelled, but the Suicide Squad will come back stronger! I am currently studying the possibility of taming hyenas for my tyrannical purposes, since the animal seems to laugh more often than me, and I have to learn from their legendary optimism..."
  
  Luke facepalmed.
  
  The return to New Byzantium was going to be long, very long...
  
  10 February 2007, the McLean Hollywood Villa, Hollywood, California, United States of America
  
  It felt good to be back.
  
  It felt good to be clean.
  
  Granted, the long and hot showers were only part of that. There had been luxurious conditions when living under the Coliseum.
  
  But she only felt really, really clean now that Commodus was dead.
  
  The Narcissist Emperor was killed, twice, and he wouldn't come back.
  
  Piper McLean breathed in relief, and stopped thinking about the monster.
  
  It was good to be home; to be able to embrace her father with her arms.
  
  And yes, she had realised now how fragile he truly was. How broken her departure had left him, no matter how much magic the kidnappers had used to keep him compliant.
  
  Sometimes, Piper very much thought she was the adult in the family.
  
  Alas, there was nothing she could do about it.
  
  Her mother was an absent Goddess, and her father was...her father.
  
  Better to accept it, and move on.
  
  Piper left the bathroom, and Panther Kowalski tried to touch and smell her.
  
  And yes, the ex-Huntress wore exactly the same as Piper did; T-Shirt and shorts.
  
  That was because they were sharing the same bond now, and Piper had to admit, it felt both good and weird, to be the one commanding the Pride.
  
  Of course, it wasn't the only thing that had changed.
  
  As they had quickly acknowledged when returning back to their semi-human forms, shoes and every piece of cloth that was too restricting was not pleasant.
  
  Piper was both a claimant Goddess and a Nemean Lioness now; the other girls were pure Nemean Lionesses.
  
  The daughter of Venus opened the telepathic link in full again, and the emotions brought a purr on her lips.
  
  It felt really, really good.
  
  "We won't be able to stay here for long." The girl who had unofficially become the second of the Pride told her.
  
  "It's true the villa isn't exactly the place where you can hide."
  
  "It has nothing to do with that," the former Huntress disagreed. "Perseus Jackson screamed your name in front of the entire audience during the Ninth Labour. As a result the Olympians know your name and your divine lineage. For now, I am sure that everyone hesitates, because Venus is an Olympian, and her wrath can be quite destructive. But that lull in the storm only lasts as long as the other Olympians are distracted."
  
  Piper could smell and taste the worry of Panther and several other girls.
  
  "The Goddess you were formerly sworn to."
  
  First lesson had been to learn that names had powers, and calling the Olympians by the name they had at any point in history was not a good idea at all.
  
  "Yes. I suppose she had other priorities, between the return of the Sire of the Drakons, the Suicide Squad, and demanding endless torture for Commodus...but sooner or later, she will think about us. And when she will come, two or three security guards won't stop her. This villa is far, far too easy a target for an Olympian."
  
  "True." Piper nodded. "And honestly, Hollywood is a horrible place to raise the children."
  
  Panther looked at her in incomprehension at first...then in horror.
  
  "Oh, no, no, no! You can't mean-"
  
  "Yes, he got all of you pregnant, Pride-sister."
  
  "The story of the Thespiades is one thing, and it was done by the true Hercules!"
  
  "That's true." The daughter of Venus was forced to concede. "That's why Commodus laced your food with some hyper-fertility drugs that he got from his Titan benefactor."
  
  Panther cursed profusely, and in the distance, many members of the Pride transformed, roaring their anger.
  
  "Isn't there any hope?"
  
  Piper grimaced.
  
  "There is, but only for the two Pride-sisters who were transformed right after the Sixth Labour. You and the seventeen others? Commodus bragged about it, when he and I were alone. One day of rape under hyper-fertility drugs would have been bad enough, but several? There's no way to avoid a pregnancy now, and when using the kind of stuff the Gods usually do...you have to keep the daughter who will be born."
  
  "Daughters?"
  
  Piper shrugged.
  
  "For some reason that betrays how arrogant he was, Commodus feared being usurped by one of his children, but only if his child was a son."
  
  "That was kind of stupid, even for him. And now I really want to unsheathe my claws and kill him myself. A dozen times wouldn't be sufficient, I think, but it would be a nice start."
  
  "Well, he must be getting everything he deserves in death now, though the torment is not inflicted by your claws."
  
  Somewhere in the Underworld, a muzzled werewolf shivered. It didn't last long, because the second after, Megaera poured the venom of Pit Scorpions upon his head, before slowly carving open his chest with silver pincers.
  
  "As you say."
  
  They left the villa, and went on to enjoy the large garden of the Hollywood villa. Piper had never been more thankful that there were trees and walls; with three Pride-sisters in their full Nemean Lionesses forms, the neighbours or the people wishing to look inside the villa of her family would have gotten awkward questions very quickly.
  
  Then the sound of a car engine arrived to her ear, getting louder and louder.
  
  "Waiting for someone?"
  
  "No, but maybe my father is." The villa had been getting rather empty after her mother removed permanently the thugs of Commodus. "Or is it a visitor for the other villas. There are quite a few celebrities living nearby."
  
  But the ruckus made by the car - with her new powers, her senses had increased several time, and her ears were at least ten times better than they had been before - didn't decrease.
  
  Soon enough, a splendid red car entered the villa, and most concerning at all, the security guards only approached it before stepping back, as if they were obeying orders superseding those she had given.
  
  "Now that's a car," Panther murmured. "I think the God of the Sun would love having this one."
  
  "It's a Ferrari, a collection model of the 1970s." Piper blinked. "And I'm pretty sure I would remember if someone my father knows has one. I haven't been absent that long."
  
  The car stopped on the small parking, well away from them.
  
  The door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped out.
  
  Instinctively, Piper knew it was not her mother.
  
  The blonde woman was beautiful, but there was not this sense you stood before your parent, someone who loved you unconditionally.
  
  Yet the Demigoddess knew this woman was not a normal woman...assuming the word meant anything for Mankind as a whole.
  
  It was not the attire, though the red robe was coming from Italy and probably cost enough to feed several dozens of people for an entire year.
  
  It was the grace and the sheer assurance that she was cloaked into.
  
  "You are not a friend of my father."
  
  The woman smiled, removing her sunglasses, and Piper was struck by the glamorous blue eyes.
  
  "You are insightful, Piper McLean. No, I am not a friend of your father, though I met him in a couple of occasions. I am here for you."
  
  Panther placed herself before the intruder and she, ready to transform.
  
  "Careful, she may be another lackey of Commodus-"
  
  "Please, I do not serve that Narcissist Rapist." The blonde woman scoffed, her disdain clear and loud. "I am Neo Cybele. I am-"
  
  "Of the Triumvirate," Piper completed.
  
  "One more usurper trying to topple the Olympians," Panther commented with annoyance.
  
  The owner of the Ferrari chuckled, untroubled by the aggressiveness.
  
  "You're speaking of it like it is a bad thing. Let me remind you that right now, all of you are marked for death by the Goddess of the Hunt. The other Olympians won't go after you, they fear your mother too much for that, but neither will they protect you from the Huntress' childish wrath."
  
  All her new abilities and animal senses felt that it was the truth.
  
  "Why aren't other members of the Triumvirate we were familiar with are making the proposal?"
  
  "Isis can't leave the Domain she is building right now, she is too vulnerable. The same applies to her husband. As for the other couple of our Triumvirate, they have taken the role of Neo Helios and Neo Selene. We prefer to keep you apart, until we know what exactly Perseus Jackson had done."
  
  "What has he DONE?"
  
  Piper suddenly had an irresistible urge to strangle a certain black-haired, grinning Demigod.
  
  "He...he may have-"
  
  "Piper," Panther intervened, "Jackson and his rowdy circus met Caligula and Julia Drusilla during their First Great Quest. One of the Lieutenants of my Goddess was there. He knows. He absolutely knows."
  
  "Bastard," Piper swore, "first he steals my first kiss, then he forges me into-"
  
  The daughter of Venus blushed. Something whispered in her ear, the faint fires of Neo Eos urging her to go and meet the Sun and the Moon.
  
  Piper managed to ignore it, but it was getting difficult.
  
  "Right, maybe it was best to avoid the other members of the Triumvirate."
  
  Neo Cybele gave her a satisfied smile.
  
  "That explains why the rest of the Triumvirate wasn't sent; that doesn't explain why you came."
  
  "Isn't it evident? You and I are half-sisters, Piper McLean."
  
  Before she could truly react, the red-clad woman began to sing.
  
  It lasted barely a minute.
  
  It was a simple melody.
  
  It was enthrallment and seduction itself.
  
  By the end of it, all her Nemean Lionesses were touching Piper, trying to find out if it was possible to pour love into her by loving contact, while the security officers of McLean Villa were at Neo Cybele's feet, prostrated and obedient.
  
  "I...how is possible I've never heard of you before?"
  
  "My Charm-song abilities were quite famous when I was alive, I assure you," Neo Cybele assured her. "But the factions who went on to great lengths to kill me made sure to erase most of my exploits and the gifts from our mother that I was able to elevate to the rank of art. And yes, for the first time in a millennium, our mother chose to trust you with the same gifts, only you have now merged them with Dawn."
  
  The blue eyes felt like an ocean of blue, and Piper was almost certain it was not a divine power, but just the strength of the Demigoddess' personality imposed upon reality.
  
  "For the outside world, I am Neo Cybele, Third Caesarea of the Triumvirate. But a life ago, I was better known as Valeria Messalina. Now if you wish it, I can offer you the training and the knowledge you seek, while promising protection for your father."
  
  11 February 2007, Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, exiting the Scylla Straits
  
  "Perseus."
  
  Once upon a time, Clarisse would never have dreamed of calling the son of Poseidon by his first name.
  
  This felt like it had been an eternity ago.
  
  "Clarisse."
  
  Before you asked, yes, their leader was in his lounge chair, drinking fruit juice, with sunglasses hiding his eyes.
  
  "I am almost surprised you didn't do something spectacular, this time."
  
  "Hmm...there is a difference between doing something defiant against the enemies of Olympus, and doing something defiantly defiant against Olympus itself, Clarisse. The entrances of the Sea of Monsters being dangerous Trials...it's deliberate. The Council won't like it at all if I do something spectacular here."
  
  Clarisse rolled her eyes.
  
  She wasn't buying the excuse at all.
  
  "I'm serious, Clarisse. The Great Quest is over, and I was granted diplomatic immunity along with all Questers. Olympus deliberately went about not replacing the missing guardian until we used the Straits. Picking a fight with Scylla would be extremely unwise."
  
  The daughter of the War God nodded reluctantly.
  
  "I can't help but believe there's something you're hiding."
  
  "Oh?" The infectious grin appeared. "Well, you're right. There's also the minor problem I don't know how to reverse the Curse my niece was transformed with."
  
  Clarisse gaped in surprise.
  
  "You were able to find a solution for your half-sister."
  
  "I was, but just because you call two things 'Curses' doesn't mean they have anything in common. Charybdis was manipulated into touching an artefact of the Dreaming One. I am pretty sure Scylla wasn't."
  
  Okay, that was interesting.
  
  "Annabeth mentioned the myth. It blamed C.C, and something about a transformative Potion dropped into a pond."
  
  "That's the myth." The leader of the Suicide Squad nodded. "When I had a conversation about this little issue, she denied playing a part in this fiasco."
  
  "She could have been lying to you."
  
  "She had no reason to." Perseus shrugged carelessly. "And honestly, if she was really the culprit, I don't think her spa would be in the Sea of Monsters. Cursing the Heir of Atlantis' daughter? That isn't something you're escaping without retribution."
  
  "Olympians and their children can't intervene as they wish in a Zone Mortalis."
  
  Perseus Jackson snickered.
  
  "Clarisse, I like you very much, but in that case, you're a bit naive. When someone angers the deities of the Sea, you will fear getting close to any amount of water bigger than a small glass. No, if C.C was responsible, Atlantis would have hunted her down repeatedly."
  
  "If you say so," Clarisse found herself replying. "But in that case, why the hell did they not reverse the transformation? It can't be the danger of a Primordial Artefact, this time!"
  
  SPLASH!
  
  "Atlantis can't do anything because the main architect of Scylla's Curse is an Olympian."
  
  Clarisse stared, speechless.
  
  It had happened fast, impossibly fast. One second there was no one in front of them, and now, there was an athletic girl holding a surfboard in front of them.
  
  The girl was tall, taller than her, and looked built like a triathlon competitor, something absolutely not hidden by her tight one-piece swimsuit.
  
  There was no doubt about who she was the daughter of, evidently. The long black hair, semi-tanned skin, and the piercing eyes made her lineage an evidence.
  
  She looked very much like the Goddess Rhode, minus the blonde hair...but she was not Rhode.
  
  And it wasn't a Goddess...or would it be more accurate to say she wasn't a Goddess anymore?
  
  "You were listening to us, weren't you?" Perseus discarded his drink and his sunglasses.
  
  "I did, brother."
  
  Well, that was confirmed-
  
  "Whose name will you answer to, now?"
  
  "Aspen."
  
  The girl's smile was extremely similar to Perseus Jackson's, it had to be said.
  
  Clarisse internally groaned.
  
  "A nice first name."
  
  Glad you agree," Aspen's smile became wider. "Now take your reward."
  
  And with the swiftness of a cobra launching itself forwards, the daughter of Poseidon struck.
  
  The kiss on the lips was not brotherly at all.
  
  "That's incest," the mad Demigod protested when it stopped.
  
  "It never stopped me," the Demigoddess chipped happily. "I am not going to do it a second time, I think the daughter of Athena is about to explode behind you."
  
  Indeed, Annabeth Chase had arrived...and was glaring murderously at the newcomer. The kiss the grey-eyed daughter of Athena gave Perseus was truly one of a lioness marking her 'territory'.
  
  Clarisse couldn't help but chuckle.
  
  It was way too funny.
  
  "Why are you here?" Yes, it was a certain blonde Demigoddess who had been sired by Athena who snarled.
  
  "I came to thank my brother for several things." The Demigoddess who had been Charybdis was clearly unimpressed by the aggressive tone. "Antaeus' head needed to have some common sense placed back in it. Seriously, an arena with skulls? What was next, he was going to scream 'Blood for the Sea God' to all challengers?"
  
  "He was well on his way to it, at least." Note to self: Perseus wasn't afraid to throw his half-brother to the wolves.
  
  "Yes. Well, it's over. I am going to have to train him back."
  
  Several thousands of kilometres away, a red-skinned half-giant shivered in fear.
  
  "But enough about that," Aspen declared, all the while throwing a small book of what seemed to be official documents to her half-brother. "Atlantis has decided to reward you for your successful Great Quest. In order to avoid accusations of favouritism," the expression made it clear the Demigoddess found the excuse ridiculous, "Father and Mother will avoid large mountains of Drachmas. The big reward is you getting a huge private villa at New Byzantium, accompanied with an entire precinct and miniature village. Since like all our siblings, you have some taste for it, you will get the Alpha-size Thermal Baths' Complex next to it, the aqueduct to make sure it has water all year, a proper Gymnasium to train, and other sport facilities."
  
  Clarisse gasped.
  
  "This...this a royal reward."
  
  Annabeth's speechless expression convinced her she wasn't wrong about it. Seriously, many people thought she was a muscle-head, but she could count! The kind of thing Aspen was describing was easily worth millions of Drachmas. Millions.
  
  "Why yes, it is, but my little brother deserves it." Aspen smiled. "Maintenance and supply will also be provided as long as Perseus is reasonable. There are still debates if a proper dock for your yacht must be included with it."
  
  Aspen bared her teeth.
  
  "Father also left a large empty slot for you. Just in case you had forgotten, you owe Kym a Temple."
  
  "I had not forgotten." Perseus sighed dramatically.
  
  Kym? When had Kymopoleia, Goddess of Violent Storms and Maritime Disasters, become 'Kym'?
  
  "See that you don't, because our sister won't forget to punish you if you don't respect your part of the bargain! Oh, and in her words, if you try to use your penguins as part of the temple's workforce, Kym will strangle you. Slowly!"
  
  The wild laughter that accompanied them resonated long after the splash of the daughter of Poseidon disappearing under the waves.
  
  "You weren't intending to use the penguins for Temple-building, right, Perseus?" The daughter of War heard the daughter of Wisdom mutter under her breath.
  
  "Please, Annabeth, if I call the penguins, it's because I want a Holy Temple to be destroyed beyond repair!"
  
  12 February 2007, the Directorial Palace, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Being exhausted was not something that you were very used to when you were a God.
  
  On that point, Dionysus didn't regret the days when he was a Demigod.
  
  Unfortunately, that didn't mean you couldn't get tired; it just meant that in times of peace, the threshold was so high it was near-impossible to reach.
  
  In times of peace.
  
  'Peaceful' was not exactly how he was ready to describe the world of today.
  
  The God of Leopards and Madness fell onto his favourite couch, and opened a nice barrel of red.
  
  "I am getting too old for this."
  
  These were formidably ironic words, for he was the youngest of the Olympians, even after the nomination of Hercules.
  
  The door opened slowly.
  
  "I thought I heard...you're back."
  
  Dionysus shrugged and raised his cup.
  
  "Enter, Chiron, and find yourself a pile of pillows to sit upon. I need a drinking partner, and you've just volunteered."
  
  The legendary Centaur obeyed; one could say many things about the Teacher of Heroes, but he acknowledged when his former pupils needed some relaxation time.
  
  "There are many rumours spreading around," Chiron said once properly installed in front of him, a cup of fruit juice in his hands.
  
  "If the rumours speak that I was 'volunteered' to hunt the 'Sire of the Drakons', then I can confirm they are true." Dionysus swallowed a third of his wine in one gulp before grimacing. "Of course, the hunt has been a miserable failure."
  
  "I thought-"
  
  "Oh, we found his old lair in the ruins of Arcadia. The bastard hid there for decades, waiting patiently, recovering his strength, and preparing new vicious plans. All the old skin and scales he left behind made that very clear. The valley where he made his main lair was filled with dangerous species of snakes serving as informants. I had to burn most of it under the King's instructions."
  
  It would be easy to blame Apollo for it, like many others did. But Dionysus wasn't going to. He certainly had never thought Python would ever try that sort of tactic, and he was the successor of Pan in the first place.
  
  No one had ever suggested an old foe could use that sort of apparently useless detail against the Olympians...except it was no longer true, was it?
  
  "The Great Serpent hid there," Dionysus repeated, "but no more. Now he's gone."
  
  The barrel was empty. Why did it empty so fast?
  
  "The Fates are cruel," the God of Wine moaned before summoning a new barrel.
  
  "The Fates may not want you to say that." An amused Centaur replied with a chuckle.
  
  "If the Fates were good, a small army of women of age would storm this room and begin a Bacchanalia worthy of myself!" The Olympian declared peevishly.
  
  Five seconds passed.
  
  Nothing happened.
  
  "Well, it was worth a shot," Dionysus shrugged the matter away. "Speak, Chiron. Given how exhausting this entire day was, I believe it's time the other chores come knocking at my door. What is this time? The Party Ponies?"
  
  "No, though they are still at the gates of New Byzantium, and their petitions to demand a worse punishment for Ares are slowly gaining ground."
  
  "I am not sure we can do much worse where the Boar is concerned," the God of War has gotten himself into plenty of trouble, more than anyone had save Hera in recent times. "I'm still surprised they came forwards. I thought they didn't like the other 'normal' Centaurs."
  
  "They don't, but when your half-brother committed such a gratuitous massacre, they had to acknowledge that they had no shield, be it military or political, to prevent any Olympian from coming after them."
  
  Dionysus scowled. That was a good point, damn it.
  
  "Petitions I can tolerate, but I won't accept them inside New Byzantium."
  
  The Party Ponies were good for parties, the problem was they often went overboard, and when they escalated too much, the party was most of the time described as a 'rampage' by outsiders.
  
  Dionysus had been punished in the nineteenth century too much for his own activities to risk his reputation on the matter.
  
  "What's the problem, then?"
  
  "The Satyrs, of course."
  
  Dionysus groaned, a sound he was sure had been heard by half of the city.
  
  "Oh, great. Them."
  
  Chiron cleared his throat, his discomfort obvious.
  
  "They have good reason to be unhappy." The Trainer of Heroes spoke, unease increasing per the second. "You have to admit-"
  
  "I will admit nothing in front of them." Dionysus replied darkly. "Not when their prayers are half the reason the Domain of Arcadia is still standing in the first place. Not that I think they will have the good sense to recognise this colossal mistake. What do they want?"
  
  "The head of Jackson on a pike, of course," the Centaur answered. "He dared proclaiming in front of hundreds of thousands of beings that Pan was dead."
  
  The youngest Olympian sighed.
  
  "Oh, no, not this old pile of excrements again..."
  
  "The Council of Cloven Hooves voted unanimously."
  
  "They may have all the votes they want," even the drink began to feel bitter on his tongue. "It won't change the truth. Pan is dead. Pan is gone, and buried. I was there. I heard his last words. Yes, I regret very much his loss. He was my friend."
  
  The God of Wine forced the empty barrel to disappear. He didn't conjure another one.
  
  "I know it, Dionysus. But I haven't had much luck in the last centuries convincing the old goats of the Council of that...and they've indoctrinated a lot of the young generation to think like them."
  
  Dionysus grimaced...again.
  
  "I suppose that it's a very good thing we made it a Law that all the Satyrs except the young ones had to stay away from the City's boundaries."
  
  This had nothing to do with Pan's memory, but with the 'urges' male Satyrs were so well-known for.
  
  Yes, it was a very good thing the Camp of Cloven Hooves was not part of New Byzantium.
  
  "The only good thing I can see in that disaster is that Commodus didn't have a Labour associated with the Erymanthian Boar."
  
  "Here we have to disagree, Chiron. Personally, I think Perseus Jackson merely disintegrated Commodus' plan before the Narcissist Bastard was ready to unleash something crossbred with the Boar's essence into the arena."
  
  Chiron winced, but didn't open his mouth to tell him he was wrong.
  
  "There were empty cages under the Coliseum, were they?"
  
  "There were."
  
  The God of Madness breathed out, all the while throwing his golden cup away.
  
  "Anyway, I don't see what I can change. Pan is dead, and I may be his successor among the Council, but I am very well aware I am not him."
  
  He had made it clear from the beginning; while he loved nature, he didn't have the same passion for it that his predecessor had.
  
  "The Satyrs will have to acknowledge the truth one day."
  
  Chiron clearly had this kind of 'I'm bearing bad news' expression on his face, unfortunately.
  
  "They believe it was his power which was used to transform the First Queen of the Amazons."
  
  Dionysus muttered seven insults in less than a minute.
  
  "No, it was not." The God of Wine calmed himself, as he saw that the room was beginning to shake under the power emanating from the essence he had gathered inside this building. "Were they born stupid, or must I change them into dolphins to keep company to Jackson's penguins?"
  
  "It was that power, wasn't it?"
  
  Dionysus nodded grimly.
  
  "This is not good; I would have preferred the idea of the Great Serpent targeting Pan's Throne as an opportunist strike."
  
  "I would have preferred it too," the Demigod-turned-God replied honestly. "But he's not."
  
  Python had bid his time since he escaped Tartarus, most likely during World War II, draining the power of several Oracles that had been his, and then waiting in the shadows, only revealing his presence to potential allies.
  
  The gamble had paid off.
  
  "I just don't understand why he acted that way, Dionysus. One Key is not all the Keys, and with so many warnings, Perseus Jackson or not, the Great Serpent had to know you were going to be vigilant."
  
  "I have one of my Aspects dedicated to countering him the moment there's an attack oncoming, yes."
  
  "As I say, a wild strategy from him...or should I say Wyld?"
  
  Dionysus glared.
  
  "Careful, Chiron, you are my friend, but there is a Law. And much as I often disagree with the King of Gods, in this instance, I agree the Law is good. It must be enforced."
  
  "My apologies...I was out of turn."
  
  "No, it is my fault. I apologise. I wasn't...I am not in a good mood."
  
  Thinking of Pan always put him in a morose mood, and debating about that power was even worse.
  
  "Anyway, I feel something fresh in the air..."
  
  "The remodelling of New Byzantium has begun, of course." Chiron smirked. "With Perseus Jackson about to be rewarded with a nice villa complex north of the city, evidently, all the other important Gods and Goddesses are doing their best to outcompete their rivals."
  
  "Where did avarice fled to?" It was a poorly kept secret that New Byzantium was at the bottom of the treasury's allocations, a trend that had crossed several centuries.
  
  "The godly egos are now at stake." Chiron informed him proudly. "The Master of Olympus of course wants an enormous thing of the purest white marble."
  
  "Of course," Dionysus replied, rolling his eyes. "What else?"
  
  "Well, there's your half-sister, who desires a private forest for her Huntresses and their pets."
  
  "Why by the Pit does she want a forest for her girl-scouts? Most of the time, her current Barrack and everything she owns are empty one hundred days out of one hundred!"
  
  "Beats me," Chiron admitted, "but I am just a messenger. Where did I put that list? Oh yes, Hermes want an entire block reserved for adrenaline-intensive sports, including things for the practise of skateboard, parachute, and kayak slalom!"
  
  Dionysus shook his head.
  
  "That can't be tolerated. I will have to imagine something bigger to make my siblings jealous!"
  
  14 February 2007, Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
  
  "RICH! WE ARE SO RICH!"
  
  The words which immediately came out of Bianca's mouth promised a special Hell for the penguins.
  
  Honestly, when she had ruled as Triumphant, there had been a special brand of long and painful torture for those who ruined her beauty sleep.
  
  Why were the heroes nonetheless trying to piss her off this way, the Lightning Thief had never understood.
  
  "RICH! WE ARE GOING TO BE ABLE TO BUY SO MANY EXPLOSIVES!"
  
  You had three guesses to wonder which Demigod-turned-animal was screaming enthusiastically, and the first two didn't count.
  
  The daughter of Hades groaned, before grimacing.
  
  With the ruckus outside, any possibility of sleeping was gone; it would take a Potion or a spell to go back to the realm of dreams.
  
  It was better to see what it was about.
  
  The time to replace her nightwear by something befitting of a sorceress, and she was out of her personal cabin.
  
  And if she sent a minor spell to hit the backsides of a couple of disobedient penguins, well, who would blame her?
  
  Naturally, the Lightning Thief could have interrogated some of the members of the Suicide Squad that were gossiping in an undignified manner, but Bianca had never wasted her time listening to rumours in the two lives she'd lived through.
  
  If you wanted to know the facts, you went straight to the source; and in that case, the source was none other than a son of Poseidon.
  
  The black-haired sorceress found him working on an impressive list of paperwork, with of course Annabeth Chase playing the role of dutiful secretary...and yes, the daughter of Athena was radiant.
  
  Who knew the too-rigid rules-abiding Demigoddess would abandon her rigid moral code once a certain son of Poseidon began to satisfy her in every way?
  
  Apparently, her smirk had been a bit too evident; the daughter of Athena fled with a pile of documents under her arm three seconds after her entrance.
  
  "I want to crucify your penguins, for the record."
  
  "You can't, oh my triumphant lieutenant! They are the cadre of my future penguin infantry battalion!"
  
  "If they continue to disturb my beauty sleep, I will make them an undead battalion," she swore.
  
  "But think of the comic relief!"
  
  Bianca glared at him, but of course, the former Tyrant had to meet her eyes, unflinching, a grin on her lips.
  
  "If the squeaking and the love for explosives was any indication, I assume it means we've been paid."
  
  "We've received some promises of payments, at any rate." Perseus cleared his throat. "No one is going to transfer significant sum of Drachmas on the open seas, I'm afraid. Except my father, but it's not a mountain of gold I receive from him."
  
  "Yes, yes, everyone is aware your genitor promised you a palace." Bianca rolled her eyes.
  
  "Big words coming from the girl whose father also swore to build a palace for her brother and she."
  
  The thing to learn about Perseus Jackson: he had a repartee for nearly everything.
  
  "Let's get down with it." The Lightning Thief sighed. "I assume the main promises from the Olympians have arrived?"
  
  "They have. Let's see...who do we begin with?"
  
  "The Master of Olympus himself?"
  
  "Oh, good idea." The son of Poseidon grabbed several pieces of paper. "Yes, for him, it's not going to make us rich. We are given one year of diplomatic immunity the moment we step foot on the soil of the Demigod city, be it New Byzantium or New Constantinople. We will not be brought in front of justice courts for the multitude of 'arrangements' we did during this Great Quest, but in compensation, we are supposed to stay within the outer magical boundaries for that period of time."
  
  "How generous of him," Bianca replied sarcastically.
  
  "I know, right?" Perseus took another page of paper. "From Annabeth's mother, things are far better. All the debts and obligations we owed her were cancelled."
  
  "The debts you owed her, you mean."
  
  Perseus deliberately and completely ignored her.
  
  "Anyway, the Goddess of Heroes and Wisdom was very generous. We are to receive two million Drachmas, and three Demigoddesses who happened to be monsters will do some chores and public repentance in my service."
  
  The Demigoddess who had been Triumphant huffed in amusement. The Gorgon sisters deserved everything they were about to endure.
  
  "Who's next...ah, yes, the God of the Forge! Leo is about to get a new Forge Complex also serving as personal villa for him, and I suppose some of his siblings, given how large it is going to be. There will be cutting-edge machines and everything a son of the Smith will like."
  
  "Armoury? Weapons?"
  
  "Some were transferred to C.C as part of my negotiation deals with her. For some things, my understanding is that if we want the weapons, we will have to order them or build them ourselves."
  
  That was...not unexpected.
  
  "On another front, I will get a personal ultra-secure vault to store some dangerous things I keep close to me. And the Suicide Squad gets two million Drachmas."
  
  Bianca was beginning to understand why the infuriating penguins had been so excited. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to make them regret waking her up.
  
  "From the God of Wine and Madness, an immortal I have served loyally," the grin from Perseus was all the more scary because it was true, "we have some interesting discount prices on popcorn, partying supplies, fireworks, and many other things."
  
  Yes, why would anyone think they would get anything else?
  
  "Dakota of course will get a big villa of his own, I think the Olympians and all the major Gods are in a competition on that front. There will be the offer of Cactus Dryads to protect the boundaries of our homes, by the way. In addition to this, we get one million Drachmas for the Suicide Squad as a whole...and a respectable quantity of alcoholic beverages for everyone."
  
  "How big is a respectable quantity?"
  
  Perseus feigned to look at the paper between his hands, an innocent expression on his face.
  
  "Let's just say that if we each decide to drink one bottle per day, there will still be plenty left after one year."
  
  "You'd better make sure the others don't drown their sorrows into alcohol." The last thing they needed was that when things would go to hell again, to acknowledge the Suicide Squad had destroyed itself in wine and liquors.
  
  "Don't worry, I will...except for Dakota, but he has his girlfriends to keep him focused." Bianca huffed, but didn't press the matter.
  
  More pages were read and discarded in turn.
  
  "We get one million each from the God of the Sun and Speed. For them too there are villas and other accommodations, plus Michael's father promised him an entire team of investigators to try to break the Hare Curse and more. The replacement of the God of War, who happens to be the God Commodus wanted to challenge, rewarded us with one million Drachmas too."
  
  That sounded like the basic package of 'you did a good job, well done, take this and don't bother me again'.
  
  "As far as Underworld parties are concerned, the rewards were not given in cash. Apparently, there's a big shopping centre which will open soon at New Byzantium, and we will get huge price reductions for it. The creation of a Winter Sports Complex has been decided too. I and several others will have free access."
  
  Bianca nodded; there was no need to ask who were the Goddesses sponsoring these moves.
  
  "It's frankly the same as far as Atlantis is concerned; plenty of facilities, and we don't have to pay for the maintenance of it, we can train and use everything, without being bothered by the crowds of New Byzantium."
  
  Yes, they were other swimming pools and training grounds, but often, they were absolutely crowded and you had to book everything weeks in advance.
  
  "Is that all?" This had been plenty of Olympians, but there were some missing.
  
  "Of course not," for the first time, Perseus was not giving an expression filled with assurance. "There's the Goddess of Love."
  
  "She went in and gave you a message to not try to kiss one of her daughters without said Demigoddess' approval, didn't she?"
  
  "She did," the son of Poseidon grumbled. "Annabeth's mother was bad enough too..."
  
  "What did she threaten you with?" she asked, honestly curious.
  
  "Let's say that if I break her daughter's heart, the Goddess will ruin my life."
  
  Bianca laughed. It served Perseus right. It was time for some of the consequences of his ridiculous plans to bite him.
  
  "Wait a minute...you didn't receive the same threats for the Titaness of Magic?"
  
  "Lou Ellen's mother apparently believes that if I break the heart of her daughter, Lou Ellen is up to the task of punishing me herself. We received a million Drachmas from her too, by the way."
  
  "No villa?"
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad shrugged.
  
  "Lou Ellen will get one, but on C.C's Spa and Resort, not at New Byzantium. There was something from the Titaness that if her children want to be rewarded, they will have to stop waiting for their sister to bring them back presents. Going back to the Goddess of Love, the Lady of Doves believed I needed to get my thirteen pieces of silver."
  
  "I know that reference." Bianca smiled. "Thirteen coins?"
  
  Perseus sighed dramatically.
  
  "No, we will get thirteen million silver Tetradrachmas, which are the biggest coins ever minted by Athens, and thus the Greek Cities. And for your personal information, the name is not a false association: with the enchantments and the currency backed by Athena, each Tetradrachma is worth four Drachmas."
  
  Bianca's mind switched off for a few seconds. Then when it switched back on, the rapid and basic calculus confirmed that yes, they were speaking of a sum of fifty-two million Drachmas.
  
  "Oh," the Lightning Thief only managed to utter this immediately before controlling her expression. "Yes, I understand why Rico and consorts were so excited. But for all the gesture, I don't understand what troubled you?"
  
  "The Goddess also pushed for my villa to include a sex dungeon."
  
  The daughter of Hades exploded into uncontrollable giggling.
  
  "Serves you absolutely right, Perseus Jackson," she managed to voice after several minutes.
  
  "As always, Lady Bianca di Angelo, your words are of great comfort to me."
  
  Bianca just giggled for several more seconds.
  
  "Right, this was plenty of fun and everything...but there must be a few deities left, no?"
  
  "There aren't so much of them. As I mentioned, every divine parent having a children in the Suicide Squad rewarded his or her son with something. Ethan will get his villa, for example, and his mother gave us a million Drachmas. There are...not anomalies, but Goddesses who followed our exploits and seem to have appreciated them. The Goddess of Victory and the Goddess of Discord sent their congratulations, along with the 'standard' promise of one million Drachmas."
  
  Since they had won the Adjudicator Challenge and fulfilled the goals of the Great Quest, all the while spreading unholy mayhem, it was not too surprising, yes.
  
  But Bianca could tell there was still a problem. Ares was known to be punished right now, and he had lost his Throne. Hera was still relatively mortal, and unable to access her funds anyway.
  
  That still left two Olympians.
  
  "You didn't mention the Goddess of Agriculture or the Goddess of the Hunt."
  
  Perseus scowled.
  
  "As far as Agriculture and Harvest is concerned, we got the very minimum, that is there's a new Barrack for her children, a large greenhouse to grow all sort of edible things...and Miranda was rewarded with a large sandbox."
  
  "Ah," the Lightning Thief hesitated before deciding that it really didn't matter anyway. Demeter was not pleased with them at all. "Yes, I suppose we're not going to be her favourites."
  
  "That is putting it mildly." The former Tyrant snorted. "Who did I forget? Oh yes, the Roman Goddess of War appreciated our performance, we got two million Drachmas...and Dakota got the threats, not me."
  
  The son of Poseidon closed his mouth.
  
  They watched each other for several seconds in complete silence.
  
  Yes, they both knew the last name, the Goddess that hadn't been mentioned.
  
  "And the Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt?
  
  The expression of Perseus was worth a long monologue.
  
  "To use some words that have been used before, I was rewarded only with her silence."
  
  Artemis truly was a bitch.
  
  No, Bianca was not going to say it out loud, though she was sure the absolute majority of people onboard would agree with her.
  
  "There has been no word from Ellen and Jenna, or any other Huntress for that matter."
  
  "No, there wasn't."
  
  It was going to be a problem.
  
  In fact, it was going to be more than that. If the Moon Goddess was that ungrateful after they broke a plan which saved several of her Huntresses and destroyed an attempted usurpation of her divine essence, what would she do in other circumstances?
  
  "We're going to have to deal with that problem."
  
  The grin of Perseus returned, though it was not anywhere at full power.
  
  "For the moment, I admit that aside from selling New T-Shirts of 'I hate the Evil Lesbian Cult', I have kind of a shortage of bright and excellent ideas..."
  
  Bianca did feel the same, and it wasn't a reassuring thought.
  
  15 February 2007, Los Angeles, California, United States of America
  
  The world was changing, and it was not a slow process.
  
  Just this morning, he had learned that Vulcan had created an enterprise called Smith International to sell some of his cutting-edge computers. Well, cutting-edge by mortal standards.
  
  A detail? The machines started if the user said a genuine prayer to Vulcan-Hephaestus.
  
  They were many beings who said the God of the Forges and Technology was isolationist, and understood little about human nature, but he wondered if it had not all been rumours.
  
  Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, better known in many circles as Caligula, looked at the street dozens of metres below his office in frustration.
  
  Sometimes, it was amusing to hide from the Olympians in plain sight.
  
  In other times, frustration seized you when they did something in one click of fingers that would require years to find a counter.
  
  "Enter."
  
  His secretary opened the door, saluted, and let his fellow Triumvir walk upon his ancient Persian carpet.
  
  "You're late, Neo Mithras."
  
  "I was reading the report of my Caesarea, Neo Helios. You know, the one about Neo Eos and its repercussions on our global strategy."
  
  The claimant to the throne of the Sun did his best to hide his unease. He wasn't sure how successful he was.
  
  "I should have strangled Perseus Jackson when I had the chance."
  
  "Or you should have accepted his 'eternal friendship." The other Triumvir suggested, which earned him a fiercely-delivered glare. "I for one wonder how many steps he is ahead of us."
  
  "Perseus Jackson is not omniscient or all-seeing. He can be beaten."
  
  Neo Mithras didn't answer, and his fists tightened.
  
  "Does Neo Cybele report satisfy you?" He said at last.
  
  "It does. Piper McLean knew nothing about Jackson before seeing him for the first time in the Coliseum. The former Huntresses knew more, of course, but only in general terms, they certainly had not been involved anywhere near him in the last years. They are not spies sent to tempt us, Neo Helios."
  
  "That doesn't mean it couldn't be a trap."
  
  For too long, his sister and himself had relied upon each other, and none other.
  
  "It could be. But perhaps not for us. It is no great secret the Suicide Squad has earned itself the enmity of the Goddess of the Hunt, the very Olympian Commodus tried to use Piper McLean for a Huntress Apotheosis-Usurpation."
  
  "You think the son of the Earthshaker forging her into a claimant of Dawn is a way to keep an arrow pointed at the Huntress?"
  
  "It would certainly fit his modus operandi, no? Perseus Jackson loves to use the weapons many commanders would be prompt to discard or refuse to use in fear of the consequences. Look at how the mighty Cerberus was deployed...several times."
  
  There was nothing to do but concede the point. No one, and the list of heroes this century alone was big enough to fill several volumes, had ever thought about 'allying' with the three-headed guardian of the Underworld.
  
  No one had been crazy enough to even consider the idea, admittedly.
  
  "The question now is if you will meet Neo Eos."
  
  He couldn't help but snorting at that.
  
  "'Meet'. Is it how it is presented by your staff, Neo Mithras?"
  
  "No, but it could be."
  
  The smile of his fellow Triumvir was real, but underneath lurked something far more dangerous.
  
  "The girl can be incredibly useful, and together you would indeed be the trinity of the Sun, the Moon, and the Dawn. Give it a chance."
  
  Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus didn't answer.
  
  "Send your Caesarea, if you fear so much she is going to steal your heart."
  
  "I am not afraid!" the claimant to the Throne of the Sun snapped before trying to calm himself. "Fine. I will send my sister. She will talk to her as Neo Cybele teaches her how to wield her powers properly. Satisfied?"
  
  "Yes," the other Imperator answered.
  
  The next minutes were spent on far more tedious and predictable affairs. Depots were emptied. Logistic routes had to be modified. Old bases were closed out, and new ones were prepared. Most of them were precautions as part of the outcome of Commodus' disastrous games, but it was better to prepare for the worst, all the while hoping for the best.
  
  "I seriously hope this werewolf narcissist is suffering a lot for all the trouble he caused us."
  
  "We have only one source available which is in position to report. According to him, Commodus is indeed getting horribly tortured. That, and well, he is singing like a canary where the Coalition is concerned."
  
  "Interesting. But surely someone like the Titan of Crafty Counsel tightly compartmentalized an organisation he is part of."
  
  "He did. But there's a balance between vital need-to-know and day-to-day basic information. The Man with the Gold Touch, the First Oracle of Delphi, and of course the Titan himself, accompanied by a powerful Sorcerer."
  
  "Except the former," Neo Helios replied thoughtfully, "none of it is exactly new."
  
  At least they now had a good idea where all the budget for these absurdly expensive Games had come from.
  
  "This is true, I suppose. But then the other spies we have in the Underworld began to inform us that the officers the King of Hell went on to truly begin a large-scale census of all important Roman officers who ever entered the Halls of the Dead. By all accounts, they work assiduously and with great celerity."
  
  "It is only a minor problem by now. Everyone on Olympus is aware by now of Mark Antony and myself, as well as the identities of our Caesarea partners. You and Neo Cybele are the only ones whose identity may have been a secret. The loss of anonymity will be a blow, but one that has largely been predicted and anticipated."
  
  "This can be defended, yes." The other male Triumvir agreed. "But the problem, according to our spies, is that they are not searching just for the identities of our Triumvirate. They're also concerned about potential Romans serving the Coalition. For example, they are aware Nero made his escape."
  
  "Everyone knows Nero escaped, Neo Mithras." This was an exaggeration, but not by much. "I'm highly confident Jackson knew it too, given how he phrased his questions the first time we met."
  
  "Nero is just the first. There are names that are, to put it bluntly, far more problematic."
  
  "Who? Octavian Augustus? Please! This scheming politician will never turn against Olympus, and certainly not side with anyone as vile as the beings who built up Commodus' powerbase."
  
  "Octavian Augustus, no, but there are other men of the Republic the Princeps killed for good that are missing. Men who loved power, and would stop at nothing to claim it again."
  
  "No," Neo Helios refused to think it was possible.
  
  "Commodus found a way to hide himself. And he wasn't exactly a model for humility and self-control."
  
  "This imbecile had a Titan to give him marching orders, Julian! The fool thought that descending into the arena and fight Jackson personally while every part of his plans was collapsing around him was a good idea!"
  
  It was like comparing an enraged dog with a werewolf.
  
  "No, our spies have to be mistaken. The First Triumvirate can't be back. We would have discovered their presence long ago if it was the case..."
  
  16 February 2007, Super-Mega Yacht Inevitable Doom, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
  
  Dakota had not known what to expect when Perseus Jackson summoned him this morning. Was it about the monumental quantity of alcohol all Gods and Goddesses seem happy to gift them in the last week?
  
  For a leader demanding sobriety for every member of the Suicide Squad - Dakota was just the exception which confirmed the rule - the son of Poseidon had more whiskey, wine and brandy than he likely knew what to do with. And that didn't even count the rum bottles which had been revealed as the 'trophy' of the Sea of Monsters...
  
  Hylla had preceded him in the room, but she abruptly stopped, and her mouth was wide open.
  
  It was clearly understandable, because Perseus Jackson was busy trying to add shining gemstones back to an artefact that they had seen before into the Coliseum's arena.
  
  "Perseus..." Reyna took the initiative, since her older sister was clearly unable to. "Is that the Belt of the Amazon Queen?"
  
  "It might be," because yes, the Gods forbid the grinning madman gave a simple answer.
  
  "But...but...it was a shared victory! The Triumvirate took the Belt, while you took the gemstones! It was the reason the Narcissist Predator had to acknowledge the point divide in the first place!"
  
  "Oh, yes," the son of Poseidon nodded, like it happened to him every Monday. "It is exactly what happened."
  
  "In that case, how?"
  
  "I thought that was evident," Perseus shrugged. "When everyone paid no attention to it, I asked Lou Ellen to put a short-lived Invisibility Spell on Elvis, so he could steal it back."
  
  The urge to smack one's head against the hull of the Super-Mega-Yacht was getting stronger and stronger.
  
  "You behaved like the Belt was of no importance, and the only thing which mattered was stopping Otrera from accomplishing her ritual." The son of Bacchus did not vent out his frustration. "But that wasn't the case, was it?"
  
  "Oh, the priority goal always was to stop the ritual before it could result in the creation of another Nocturna," Perseus said neutrally, his grin taking a short leave. "I am willing to swear on a lot of important things that it was the truth. If I had failed, we would get something dangerously close to a lesser Goddess in raw power, and winning the Labour without more deaths...let's just say it would have been extremely complicated."
  
  "But you didn't forget the Belt." Hylla accused him.
  
  The last gemstone seemed to merge with the golden decorations, and the legendary heirloom of the Amazons began to get shrouded in red and golden lights. The ornamentation seemed to get slightly altered; there were still scenes of violence, but it felt more controlled, more disciplined.
  
  "The influence of the Victor of the Labours is already felt." The son of the Earthshaker commented.
  
  "What?"
  
  "With the former God of War no longer a seat among the Council, the Amazons are now falling upon the chief authority of Richard's father," Perseus explained as if it was normal, and he had been attending the Council every morning instead of being aboard the Inevitable Doom. "Luke's father will second him, when it comes to economic warfare issues. One of the problems the Master of Olympus had with Clarisse's genitor was that he was completely ignoring the aggressive conquests of the Amazons on every field. The Killer of Men was nearly as bad as certain screw-ups in that regard. It has been decided it will change. The headquarters of the Amazons is going to be in one of the expanded lands that have been made part of New Byzantium in the last weeks. Evidently, the near-total independence of the organisation-tribe once founded by Otrera is coming to an end."
  
  "They aren't going to like it," Reyna pointed out.
  
  Perseus cackled joyfully.
  
  "After the stunt Otrera screamed with all Olympus able to watch her treachery, I don't think the Gods and Goddesses care very much. Their biggest concern right now is to make sure there are no more girls willing to imitate Otrera. And it's a bit more difficult to plot if the Amazons are monitored correctly."
  
  All of that was true, Dakota supposed. Yet it didn't explain why-
  
  "You know the Amazons are going to be furious," the son of Bacchus spoke with horrified fascination. "You're counting upon it. But...how-"
  
  "How is he going to exploit it?" Hylla asked for him. "That's very simple. The Belt of the Amazon Queen is more than an artefact; it's the symbol of royalty among the Amazons. The woman who has it is the Queen."
  
  "That...that's how simple it is?"
  
  "No," Perseus continued to grin. "Of course, not. First, a woman must have lost her virginity."
  
  Dakota was suddenly very happy Hylla and Reyna chose to glare at the smirking Tyrant, and not him.
  
  "Then she must swear the vows to the God who is in charge of the Amazons, who is currently Hercules, also known as Alcides or Heracles, depending on what you prefer."
  
  There was a shimmer of power, the aura of the Belt rippled in a significant fashion, and the Roman Quester knew it was not a mistake the names had been uttered here and now.
  
  "But the most important is that the Amazon leadership agrees upon a champion, and the future Queen must defeat her decisively three times in as many contests: archery, sword duel, and traditional wrestling."
  
  The smile was genuine, as far as he could tell.
  
  "I admit it may have changed a bit, but that's all. No virginity, swear yourself to be an Amazon, and fight your way to the top. Then you're Queen for an entire year; no one can challenge you for that amount of time."
  
  And no, it was not Dakota's imagination Perseus was staring at Hylla when speaking.
  
  "I am not going to try to go after the Queen's throne just so you add more girls to the Suicide Squad, Jackson."
  
  "Perish the thought," the mad Demigod smirked. "I am far more interested in having the Amazons as allies and economic partners. You are aware, I'm sure, that the Huntresses will not be on our side, and they are a true army in plenty of aspects. It is best, as a result, that the Amazons have someone at the helm that is neither a servile lackey nor another Otrera."
  
  The red eye shone malevolently again, right as the Belt was placed in Hylla's hands.
  
  "Obviously, it is your decision. If you aren't willing, you will only have to deliver it in the Amazons' hands the moment we land at New Byzantium; you will be the heroine of the day, and all of that."
  
  Hylla's eyes were incredibly thoughtful.
  
  "If I am to be the Amazon Queen, I will defend the interests of the Amazons above everything else." The eyes the Goddess Bellona had given to her daughter could be incredibly murderous in the right circumstances. "I will not help you pilfer in the Amazons' warehouses, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "I will stop..." the innocent expression didn't fool anyone. "As long as I get nice discount sales every Friday, of course."
  
  Hylla sighed in despair.
  
  "Why have I the feeling that I am going to regret it?"
  
  "That we are going to regret it, sister," Reyna intervened. "I won't let you do it alone."
  
  This could have been a dramatic moment, but of course Perseus had to ruin it by cackling.
  
  "Nice! Now please inform your boy-toy...I mean, your noble consort of the duties that are expected of an Amazon Queen..."
  
  "Oh come on," Dakota spoke. "It can't be that bad..."
  
  Hylla and Reyna went up crimson so quickly one would almost think they had been cursed with something including tomatoes.
  
  "Can it?" the drunken boyfriend of the two daughters of Bellona moaned in despair.
  
  18 February 2007, an island somewhere in the Sea of Monsters
  
  The island was barren.
  
  It was a tiny thing, constantly washed up by the storms of the Sea of Monsters.
  
  It was too often submerged for birds to make their nests here.
  
  It was too rocky and surrounded by knife-sharp reefs to be useful for sea mammals wanting a safe ground for their young.
  
  It was an unnamed island, the likes they were thousands across the Zone Mortalis.
  
  If there hadn't been a flicker of a divine power, the Goddess wouldn't even have noticed it.
  
  Upon landing, however, what she saw brought an expression of frustration on the face she had chosen.
  
  The divine sparkle that was the reason of her presence here was a three metre-tall statue.
  
  It was a communication relay she was very familiar with, nothing less, nothing more.
  
  "We have nothing to say with each other, Prometheus." Athena hid her anger behind a voice of steel.
  
  "Now, now, my plan was so close to success." The Titan had the gall to chuckle. "You must have changed. I didn't believe you would grow so fond of the Hunt Goddess."
  
  "I still don't like my half-sister of the Moon and the Hunt." Athena readily admitted. That was hardly a secret in the halls of Olympus and elsewhere. "I wouldn't shed a tear if she lost her Throne. But there's a big difference that, and making a plan which included her Huntresses being raped and herself being forced to Possess a young Demigoddess, before enduring the sexual assaults of a malevolent predator."
  
  There were disgusting plans, but this one went so far beyond disgusting new words should be invented for it.
  
  "Perseus Jackson is illogical and loves to spread chaos, but on this point at least, he was right: Commodus was an ignoble narcissist, doubled as a rapist. He deserves everything the Erinyes are doing to him. And those who helped Commodus, whoever they are, are truly disgusting bastards."
  
  "Strong words, but you're letting your emotions get in the way of your plans again."
  
  "You allied with Commodus! COMMODUS!"
  
  Obviously, the wax statue didn't change to reflect the behaviour of the owner at the other end, but Athena could sense there was no apology coming.
  
  "He was the right tool to test both Suicide Squad and Triumvirate."
  
  What an idiot she had been, millennia ago, when she, Goddess of Wisdom and Arts, had believed she knew Prometheus.
  
  Athena had been a fool for thinking that.
  
  "Testing them? You threw a Huntress into the tentacles of a Primordial! You tried to trap them with a power that has been utterly erased from all tales, and for good reasons! You increased all the worst impulses of Ares, and then you released him to carve a path of gore and death!"
  
  "If they didn't survive him and the simplest of my tricks, then they had no business playing a part in the Age to come."
  
  "We aren't in that Age anymore!"
  
  "Oh, but we are. Or are you going to pretend this Great Quest was far easier than the mission that was given to the Argonauts? Go ahead, I'm ready to hear your counter-argument."
  
  Athena gritted her teeth.
  
  She didn't give a retort.
  
  It wouldn't do any good, not when the Titan of Crafty Counsel was clearly ready to demolish her arguments one by one.
  
  "I realise plenty of actors won't like it, but my ideas work. They are a bit unconventional, I will admit, but sometimes you need to break a few eggs-"
  
  "Is it how you describe stealing the Fire and giving it to Mankind without explaining them how to wield it safely?"
  
  The human civilisation which had received the poisoned gift had torn itself apart within a moon. When settlements were perpetually competing with resources, yes, the first murderous use of Fire had been to torch their rivals' homes.
  
  "It worked, didn't it? The human grew more resourceful, more rebellious, less inclined to tolerate the abuses of Olympian rule."
  
  "I should never have accepted you as my lover, never mind a betrothal."
  
  "Please don't play the innocent, Athena. I know of your contacts with Tethys. You are hardly the good chaste girl who follows her father's rules. You are in many ways as disobedient as the others."
  
  Yes, of course the Titan knew about that. This was going to be a problem.
  
  "You are the Goddess of Wisdom, but you refuse to see the solution which is shining in front of you. The Prophecy is still active. Your genitor is going to be overthrown by one of his children. Among them, you are certainly one of the most skilled and powerful. You can seize power, and rule, as the plan called for."
  
  "I see no reason to continue this pointless debate." Athena cut in. "If you try to engineer the rape or other sexual abuses of other women, I swear to you, Prometheus, that the torment Commodus is currently suffering courtesy of the King of Hell and his servants will seem painless compared to what I will do to you!"
  
  "You were that fiery-"
  
  Her spear struck, and the wax statue was blasted apart.
  
  "Never again," Athena swore, though she didn't know it was to herself or for other ears that couldn't hear the whisper. "You betrayed my trust. I won't make that mistake again..."
  
  20 February 2007, Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, approaching the Panama Canal
  
  Annabeth didn't know if she had to cry or laugh.
  
  "Perseus...that's not a drawing."
  
  "Yes, it is." The warm look he gave her would have made her blush any other time, but not today.
  
  "No, it's not. A two-year-old is drawing better than you!"
  
  "Now I know you're exaggerating!"
  
  Annabeth glared, then looked at the 'drawing' again. If you disregarded the ugly marks, the absence of symmetry, the utter lack of regard for elegance...
  
  "Did someone teach you how to do drawings, anyway?"
  
  "It must have been forgotten at the beginning of my story," her boyfriend said, more amused than insulted. "Bah, it is why I have you as an architect, no?"
  
  "And don't you dare forget it," the blonde Demigoddess muttered before clearing her throat. "If you didn't have me, the Goddess of Violent Storms would disintegrate you for having the audacity of building the ugliest temple in the world."
  
  "Yes, we shouldn't forget about that. We already have enough problems with the Titans and Titanesses, I think."
  
  "Glad to hear there's limits to the number of immortal enemies you're accumulating." She rolled her eyes, before a question blossomed in her head. "You've never answered my question, you know."
  
  "You asked a lot of questions, during this Great Quest." Perseus crossed his arms and smirked. "You will have to be a bit more precise."
  
  "We met a lot of Gods and Goddesses. We also met representatives of the Titan immortals. But where I observed them, I didn't find them so different. Why do we call some Gods and not Titans, or vice-versa?"
  
  "That's actually a very good question, Annabeth. The simplest answer, honestly, is that they are not so very different. A God can easily be mistaken for a Titan. The current Master of Olympus is famous for having infiltrated the fortress of Mount Othrys, and you can bet the forces of the Lord of Time wouldn't have tolerated a non-Titan among them."
  
  "So I can call a Titan a God, and there won't be any problem?"
  
  The Drakon-Slayer laughed.
  
  "Not if you value your life, I'm afraid. No, the Titans are very proud about being a race of immortal they consider above the Gods. In their minds, the fact that both a Titan and a God bleed golden ichor when wounded, can incinerate mortal beings when revealing their divine forms, and are bound to the same Ancient Laws is nothing but an unfortunate coincidence."
  
  "Hell of a coincidence," the daughter of Wisdom remarked while seating herself next to Perseus. "And many, many Gods were born from the union of Titans."
  
  "Exactly!" the agreement came immediately. "In fact, some immortals used it to their advantage. I'm pretty sure the Titaness of Magic pretended to be a Goddess when she decided to side with the Olympians during the Titanomachy. It may have not been the wisest course; the Titan of the Sun and the Titaness of the Moon were welcomed among the old Council and accepted as they were."
  
  While Hecate's habit to reveal only some part of the truth and keep the secrets of sorcery for herself made her a true powerhouse, but the mother of Lou Ellen would never be trusted fully by Zeus and the rest of Olympus.
  
  "What's the big difference then? The way they took their Domains?"
  
  "No. What makes the big difference between Titan and God, as far as I was able to discover, is the core of what the parents gave to their child. If what burns in the heart of the immortal at birth is Might before Passion, the end result is a Titan or a Titaness. If it is Passion before Might, it will be a God or a Goddess."
  
  "That's so simple?" Annabeth asked dubiously. "I mean, it would explain why Aphrodite is a Goddess, not a Titaness, but still..."
  
  Perseus shrugged.
  
  "For all the big deal certain Titans make about it, the truth is that Titans and Gods are very close cousins among immortals. One can be easily mistaken for the other. This isn't the case for say, the Gigantes."
  
  "Yeah, they bleed black ichor." Annabeth grimaced; the memory of the 'Bane of Hades' revealing himself and destroying part of an island in the process had very much been the stuff of nightmares. "I suppose they aren't forged the same way."
  
  "I couldn't exactly ask their mother a confirmation, but my guess is that they were created with Might mixed with Vengeance."
  
  "This is a nasty dual combination."
  
  "Not going to disagree with you there. But yes, that's the entire story. A Titan has a core composed in majority of Might, with only a minor part of Passion unable to influence him away from his true nature. A God will be the same, but with Passion, and the minor part will be Might."
  
  That at least explained why so many Olympians were infamous for their infidelities outside of marriage, while the Titans were not, as far as she knew.
  
  "It makes a big difference when they are defeated." The leader of the Suicide Squad continued in a calm and analytic tone. "Gods are extremely difficult to defeat for good unless they are usurped properly, for the passions they inspire in the hearts of mortals will give them back strength extremely fast. During the Titanomachy's early battles, this is why the Might of the Titans was unable to score any lasting victories, by the way. Any defeat the future Olympians suffered was a blow that was healed in mere days."
  
  "The Titans must have advantages too."
  
  "Of course. Might, whether or not it has Reason to guide its hand, is the most redoubtable threat in the world. Gods can survive a lot of things, and heal extremely fast. But Titans are practically the only beings that can survive the loss of multiple Domains, several usurpations, and keep fighting."
  
  Yes, Calypso had been a shadow of herself, she had lost the Drakons...and yet she was hardly on the verge of death.
  
  "It wasn't mere vengeance which lead the Olympians to cut apart the Titan of Time in a thousand pieces and disperse the bloody remnants in the Pit, was it?"
  
  "No. It was the only thing my father and his siblings could think of that had a chance to put down their genitor in a permanent manner."
  
  Annabeth shivered.
  
  "Since Titans are more difficult to eliminate than Gods, shouldn't there more claimants aspiring to be part of their ranks than there would be usurpers of Gods?"
  
  Caligula and his sister, for all their rituals absorbing parts of the essence of Helios and Selene, were beings of Passion. They would certainly end up as Gods, not Titans.
  
  "In theory, yes. In practise, no. There are only two ways to become a Titan, Annabeth. One of them, it will not surprise you, is to have the King of Titans grant you your Apotheosis."
  
  The same was true for the Gods, as Zeus sometimes gave Demigods and Demigoddesses the ultimate reward, giving them immortality and eternal youth, making them lesser Gods living forever in the golden halls of Olympus.
  
  But there was a major difference, of course: Kronos was not 'alive' right now. Thus the method was not available.
  
  "Yes, I can see that will be a problem."
  
  "I'm so glad you agree. And yes, just for your personal knowledge, I have already recorded several dozen methods by which Demigods and Demigoddesses became true immortals. As a result, one can say that yes, there are benefits to Titanic Apotheosis, much like there are others for Godly Apotheosis. Unfortunately, when it comes to practicality, the Godly path is way, way easier and has something the Titans are not noted for: flexibility."
  
  "Hmm...and the Sire of the Drakons, then?" the daughter of Athena asked. "Is the Great Serpent a Titan or a God, in your opinion? I would guess Titan, the size alone is a clue that there's more Might than Passion for the giant serpentine appearance..."
  
  "In my humble opinion?" Perseus winced. "The answer is: neither."
  
  "A Gigantes, then?" Vengeance was certainly something Python had in spades against Apollo and his sister, if the lengths he used in the Coliseum were any indication.
  
  "No. Not a Gigantes, I didn't feel enough Vengeance coming from the Sire, though I don't doubt it is a significant motivation in its actions."
  
  "What it is, then?"
  
  "I don't know."
  
  This made the entire thing worse, in a way. If Perseus didn't know it, then that meant more or less every Demigod and Demigoddess was in the dark.
  
  "This is...ah." Magic pulsed, and suddenly, the cabin where the conversation had taken place began to be bathed in pink energy.
  
  Annabeth breathed faster. Everything seemed to disappear...everything was Lust.
  
  "Why...so soon?"
  
  Annabeth giggled, though it wasn't funny.
  
  "I'm afraid I did speak the Goddess' name...and she might have thought...a serious discussion...was not what we needed."
  
  Her clothes fell on the floor, and Annabeth enjoyed very much the lustful expression of Perseus Jackson.
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  Annabeth kissed him, and then they lost themselves in a hurricane of passion.
  
  20 February 2007, Forge HV-1, under Mount Etna, Sicily
  
  Aphrodite smiled in satisfaction as a black-haired Demigod began to ravish a blonde Demigoddess.
  
  It was good that her attention had been attracted to them; otherwise she had a feeling this serious but all too dramatic conversation would have lasted more hours and there would have been little passion left.
  
  No, better let the two unleash their Lust and Love. The two were made for each other, and with the daughter of Hecate thrown into the cauldron of Passion on top of that, the trio had a lot of potential, more than she'd seen since some couples from the French Revolution.
  
  Aphrodite whispered a word, and the mirror stopped showing the Inevitable Doom. It was a normal glass once again, though one which had several security systems that a non-Goddess would find extremely difficult to deactivate without suffering major injuries.
  
  "How ironic," the Goddess of Love said sweetly. "The current Throne of the Sea and the Throne of Wisdom can't stand each other, yet their favourite children are perfectly willing to break the taboos we immortals have acknowledged as unwritten traditions."
  
  A child of Bacchus with two daughters of Bellona also was an explosive combination. Lust, War, and Madness?
  
  It had happened a few times before, but not that often. Whether as Aphrodite or Venus, there had been plenty of instances where the children of Wine faltered and fell, their desires unable to coexist with their poor opinions of themselves.
  
  Something told her that this time, it would be very different.
  
  Aphrodite changed her hairstyle into a warrior's braid, and entered one of the true workshops of Forge HV-1.
  
  The atmosphere was evidently volcanic.
  
  Gigantic magma pipes were everywhere above her head and below her feet, pumping a quantity of incandescent molten rocks that mortals would have thought impossible.
  
  Yet it wasn't, not for the genius of the God of the Forge.
  
  In this atmosphere of Fire, evidently, mortals couldn't hope to survive for long. But it was not a problem, for tens of thousands of automatons were on the move, hammering metallic plates for the star-chariots of the Olympians, breaking old divine weapons before forging them anew into different instruments of death.
  
  The quantity of objects that were meeting their end was prodigious, but such was the productivity of the Forge that the number of creations outnumbered them fifty to one.
  
  In the middle of this song of industry and relentless inventiveness, Hephaestus was working, perfect statue of bronze that no Fire or explosion was able to slow down for a second.
  
  Slowly, Aphrodite let the human shell fade away, revealing the divine silver statue that had become her prison and her source of pride.
  
  "The Suicide Squad is approaching Panama, husband. You wanted to be warned."
  
  Her hands touched his shoulders, and the touch alone felt good.
  
  "No trace of the Sire of the Drakons?"
  
  "None." Aphrodite couldn't help but show a grimace. "There are regular rotations now, of course. And even Discord and Vengeance have agreed to participate in the hunts. But no one has found the shadow of a scale. One might think that a serpent of that size wouldn't be able to go unnoticed-"
  
  "But one would be very wrong," the sole and only son of Hera to remain among the Council finished. "I don't like this, Aphrodite. I don't like this at all."
  
  "Neither do I," she answered. "And since we can be honest with each other...the choice of the Sire's allies concern me greatly."
  
  Commodus may have been a useful patsy for them, but Prometheus and Midas? Those two were entirely different stories. Ruthless, amoral, uncaring about the collateral damage their plans unleashed; those two were ancient problems that by all rights should have been contained millennia ago.
  
  Unfortunately, they weren't.
  
  Hephaestus took her in his large arms.
  
  Under their respective forms, it amused her that now, he was easily twice her size, and as good-looking if not more than all her old lovers.
  
  "I am ready."
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  To say their relationship had grown considerably better was an understatement; before his release from Forge MP-42, they would never have admitted such things to each other.
  
  "I have grown too used to the status quo. I have tolerated for too long the millions of worshippers who preached that Peace had to go hand in hand with Love."
  
  She was trying to change this, oh yes.
  
  But it was going to take time. Several parts of her had grown too meek, too pleased with cosmetics and beauty away from the battlefields.
  
  "I am not an Oracle, but I can feel a Great War is coming." Aphrodite let the parts of Venus that hadn't been absorbed yet merge with her. "I remain strong enough to handle the average Titan, but most of my old ferocity and Domains are sluggish at best. And you know what it means."
  
  "Your sons and your daughters are stronger than the other Demigods believe."
  
  "They are, when it comes to their inner strengths." She replied. "But let's be honest, strength of the soul will not be enough. Piper was certainly the strongest of my Roman children, and it meant absolutely nothing because I was content to leave her with her father. She lived an innocent life...and she was absolutely defenceless for an enemy like Commodus."
  
  It had ended in a pleasant outcome, but without Perseus Jackson, the disaster could have been one the size of an entire country.
  
  "My children were given Love and many gifts, but these gifts were for a time of peace. I can't change the past, the parts of my Aspect they were given is there to stay inside them. If Love is to get stronger, if I am to push them to become stronger and fight for what they lust and love, I have to be the one to give the example."
  
  Aphrodite embraced her husband.
  
  "I have to become something new. Something better."
  
  "You want to become a weapon."
  
  There was small light of amusement in Hephaestus' eyes.
  
  "I'm told you have a certain talent in that field, husband."
  
  "And you are perfectly right!" For all his lack of confidence in some fields, Hephaestus was very proud about smith skills, as well as his abilities when it came to instruments of war. "But you know what it will do to you."
  
  "The process that began in Forge MP-42 will be irreversible, yes." Aphrodite breathed out. "I don't care."
  
  Hephaestus kissed her. It was rough, improvised...and she absolutely liked it.
  
  Passion threatened to overwhelm them, as all around them the Fires of the Earth beat harder and harder.
  
  "Let me become a weapon for the wars to come, Hephaestus." Greek and Roman Aspects became one. There was only Lust and Love, and the Fires of Passion that had been mere candles were now a caldera raging hotter than anything she'd felt before. "Let me become your weapon."
  
  "Aphrodite...it's a one-sided journey."
  
  "Until death tears us apart, Hephaestus. Maybe it's time to renew our oaths, no?"
  
  The rest of the Olympus would mention afterwards how Mount Etna erupted for twenty consecutive days afterwards.
  
  Aphrodite didn't care that how much time had been spent, and her husband didn't raise any complaints either.
  
  21 February 2007, somewhere in the Straits of Malacca, South-eastern Asia
  
  The shock was violent.
  
  Then again, the machete-armed warriors were the members of the sixth and last ship, and had had the time to prepare, unlike the others.
  
  "FOR TREASURE AND LIBERTY!"
  
  "FOR THE BROTHERHOOD!"
  
  "FOR BLACKBEARD!"
  
  "ONWARDS AND TRY TO CAPTURE THE OFFICERS, THEY WILL FETCH A NICE RANSOM!"
  
  There were things that never changed.
  
  They had been gone for centuries; the world had changed and not waited for them.
  
  But attacking merchant ships was still the same pleasure.
  
  There were new weapons; the ships had grown bigger.
  
  But the men sailing the seas had not changed at all.
  
  Steel sang. The guns fired everywhere.
  
  Blackbeard laughed, right as his sword severed limbs and defeated several opponents.
  
  These men weren't enemies of his skill, but after the Sea of Monsters, both his veterans and his new recruits needed some easy jobs to rebuild their confidence anyway.
  
  They needed funds too.
  
  The ransom for many of these ships and these crews would go a long way into acquiring proper ships and securing the loyalty of the newcomers.
  
  "THIS WORLD IS A WORLD OF PIRATES!" He roared. "WE WHO FIGHT UNDER THE JOLLY ROGER SALUTE YOU!"
  
  Several heads of stubborn souls rolled; the men were brave, but didn't know when they were beaten.
  
  And then after a few seconds, it was over.
  
  The last of the warriors defending the ship threw down its weapons in surrender, preferring to not join the ones Edward and his lieutenants had sent to Hades.
  
  "Lafitte! Secure the bridge!"
  
  "Yes, Captain!"
  
  "You! The engines! And this time, I want the specialists unarmed and cooperative!"
  
  "I will make sure our boys will not touch a single hair of them, Admiral!"
  
  "Good!"
  
  Last time, he had had to miss a significant ransom because his old crew had a lot of difficulties with modern technology, and without understanding, it was near-impossible to steal one of the big merchant ships or the oil tankers that sailed the oceans in the twenty-first century.
  
  "The other ships?"
  
  "We're bringing them in proper order, Captain. But we will need several more minutes to give them new courses. They manoeuvre like pigs, these hulls."
  
  "Good," the son of Ares repeated. "We still have some time before the local navies react, but best to not abuse it."
  
  "Maybe, Lafitte was right, Captain."
  
  "We could have attacked Singapore from the very start."
  
  "Attacking the harbour and the city itself? Yes. But we could never have hoped to seize a significant portion of it, never mind conquered it and turned into a proper base! There weren't enough of us then...and there still aren't, for that matter."
  
  The legendary Pirate shook his head.
  
  "No, first, we need to grow our legend, build up our reputation. Men need to flock to our banners, Doc. Only then, we will have the strength to go after Singapore, and make it a new Tortuga that will proclaim to the world that the Age of Pirates is not over!"
  
  There was a flash.
  
  There was something flying in the sky.
  
  There was-
  
  "It looks like a man is falling from the heavens, Captain. What is this new-"
  
  There was a giant explosion.
  
  It was one of the nearby captured ships, the Demigod acknowledged with stupefaction.
  
  "No. Not again! I won't be denied again!"
  
  But the wind carried the screams of the pirates that had rallied his banners.
  
  Communications broke down.
  
  Several of the small motor boats tried to veer off-course, to flee as fast as possible from the aquatic battlefield that had turned against them.
  
  It was useless.
  
  Each time, arrows thrown at supersonic speeds hit the high-speed boats, and inflicted devastating damage, throwing everyone aboard into the sea.
  
  It shouldn't be that easy.
  
  These were his men, his pirates.
  
  Many of them had survived the insanity of the Sea of Monsters with him.
  
  They had fought monsters, Demigods, and worse.
  
  They had survived Perseus Jackson.
  
  They couldn't be defeated so easily.
  
  Except they were.
  
  One by one, the captured ships were demolished, his men plunging into the sea rather than to face the enemy coming after them.
  
  Edward Teach wanted to curse, to insult their lack of courage.
  
  Blackbeard didn't speak.
  
  It wasn't cowardice to flee when something was so beyond you none of your weapons were able to stop the disaster from occurring.
  
  And of course, the source of the carnage wasn't alone.
  
  Soon enough, there were flying chariots arriving over the battlefield, and they were throwing giant nets all over it, capturing his men.
  
  This was definitely not something improvised. His current raid had been anticipated, and turned into a trap.
  
  The son of Ares felt it coming.
  
  Fate was on the move, and he could do nothing to stop it.
  
  The pressure was monstrous.
  
  His men fled; most imitated the other ships' attack forces, deciding to risk a meeting with sharks than face the power coming to end their piracy career.
  
  He came.
  
  One good thing that could be said was that while Blackbeard had only seen him once in his life, it was not difficult to recognise him.
  
  The incredibly potent presence.
  
  The muscles and this aura of invincibility.
  
  The Nemean Lion cloak. The huge mace.
  
  "Hercules."
  
  "Edward Teach," the God answered. "Or do you prefer Blackbeard?"
  
  "Any name will do." The old Demigod replied. "I presume this is the message that the protection offered by my father is hereby withdrawn."
  
  "Correct. He is not a member of the Council anymore." The former Demigod shrugged. "If you had stayed in the Sea of Monsters, they would have closed their eyes."
  
  "How could I when I had been forced to stay away from the pleasures of civilisation for so long?"
  
  It wasn't like it mattered anyway. What was done, was done, and his decision had proven to be more dangerous than he had thought.
  
  "One thing bothers me, though. By the Ancient Laws, you aren't supposed to use your true divine appearance or to use more than one-hundredth of your might. That's the problem when a God intervenes in Demigod affairs."
  
  "I respected the Ancient Laws."
  
  Blackbeard grimaced.
  
  What a terrifying prospect...none of his men had even been able to slow down Hercules.
  
  "It was, to be honest, barely enough to give me a light training exercise."
  
  The God was trying to enrage him; this was incredibly obvious.
  
  It didn't mean it wasn't an efficient tactic. Rage was beginning to burn in his heart.
  
  "We Demigods don't strangle several snakes when we're barely out of our cribs. We don't accomplish Labours against army-killer monsters."
  
  "No. You just attack every ship in sight, stealing everything that was never yours to take."
  
  Blackbeard laughed. He was sure it did not come out as a pleasant sound.
  
  "Please, Hercules! We could take millions of Drachmas worth in ransoms and loot, and it would still end up as a rounding error for the Gods sitting on top of the world. You and your siblings sit atop giant piles of treasure, and even the wealthiest Demigods had ever had nothing but pocket money compared to the Olympians. We want to be wealthy! We want a part of the big cake! If it is a crime, I proudly proclaim myself the most audacious robber of the Seven Seas!"
  
  Hercules didn't immediately reply. This brought a small measure of comfort. Whatever the son of Zeus had become, at least he wasn't a complete hypocrite.
  
  "You aren't going to lay down your weapons like the others did?"
  
  "To be imprisoned in the cells of Malta? I will pass."
  
  "Actually, we use a vast prison complex under Alcatraz these days."
  
  "I thank you for the precision, but my answer stays the same." Blackbeard grinned. "Let's see if you are as strong as the rumours say."
  
  His Telumkinesis activated.
  
  The effort was considerable, but Edward had always been a strong child of War.
  
  In a few breaths, he was able to conjure hundreds of swords and axes.
  
  A few more seconds, and he added to it over one hundred more blades.
  
  "RAAAAGGHHHHHH!"
  
  He unleashed everything.
  
  Most of his strength and everything he could bear were poured in that violent, desperate, incredibly forceful assault.
  
  There was an immense sound of metal breaking.
  
  Blackbeard's eyes widened.
  
  "It is...impossible."
  
  The metal blades lied all broken on the deck, a large circle of shattered steel surrounding his enemy.
  
  Only a few had hit their mark.
  
  And they were unable to even pierce the skin of the son of Zeus.
  
  An instant later, they fell too, and the sound resonated like a herald announcing the opening of the gallows.
  
  "My turn."
  
  The huge mace was raised like it was weighed nothing.
  
  Blackbeard raised his last sword and charged.
  
  The next second, his world exploded in pain and blood.
  
  21 February 2007, the Fields of Punishment, the Underworld
  
  If someone was shown the sessions of torture that had happened recently, he was sure plenty of mortals would stop being impressed with werewolves.
  
  Yes, they weren't vulnerable to anything but silver. But that just meant silver nails and the smallest objects made of the metal were inflicting endless torment to the bearers of the Curse of Lycaon.
  
  "My Lord?"
  
  "I apologise, Megaera. I was distracted. You were saying?"
  
  In the distance, Commodus screamed as Alecto crucified him. That there were plenty of silver nails involved and that the Narcissist Emperor was pushed to the edge of lupine transformation went without saying.
  
  The suffering was felt by half of the Fields of Punishment.
  
  "I'm afraid, my Lord, that Commodus spilled everything he knew. The teams that stormed the depots we got the coordinates of report that most of them were abandoned long ago. Some in fact may not have been used more than once, when Commodus was given the orders to arrange black market affairs in the first place."
  
  "They never trusted him."
  
  It was, to be fair, a really sensible decision, for trusting someone like Commodus was really the first step on your way to an early grave, or to the Pit of Tartarus.
  
  "I think it is worse than that, my Lord. I think...per the Titan's own words, they truly considered him a tool."
  
  It sadly made sense. Everything suggested that while Commodus 'winning' the Adjudicator Challenge would have caused an enormous amount of chaos, it wouldn't have resulted in a stable Apotheosis for 'Neo Hercules'.
  
  Why tell your pawn sensitive information, if he was going to fail at the end of the plan?
  
  "The operational security of the Coalition is very good." The blue-clad Fury continued, her face making it evident that she didn't like recognising it. "I'm pretty sure the three leaders we have information about chose to reveal themselves, though perhaps the actions of Perseus Jackson revealed a bit more than they wanted. The others? We have some rumours, a few guesses, and indirect information that can remove a few suspects from the lists."
  
  Commodus shrieked in agony as for the first time today, Alecto began the torture that would make him a eunuch. The vat of boiling silver near her was a clue her intentions on the subject went far past the 'operation', however.
  
  "The Coalition is a major threat, one far more dangerous than the Triumvirate ever was, is, and will be," and it said something, for the Triumvirate had a Goddess on their side now.
  
  But there was little they could do for now, unless Olympus managed to find out one of true hideouts where the Coalition leadership was waiting patiently before striking again.
  
  "The search in the Zones Mortalis has resulted in no useful leads."
  
  "I didn't expect it to result in a major breakthrough. But it had to be tried."
  
  Hades wanted to say it was Zeus' fault, a symbol of how nepotism had destroyed the surveillance abilities of the Council to respond to proper threats.
  
  But after almost getting usurped by his own daughter, the Lord of the Underworld didn't think he had the right to sermon anyone about this particular problem.
  
  For that matter, Hades had never imagined that the crumbling remnants of Arcadia could be useful for anything, never mind providing a refuge for anyone.
  
  Pan was dead. The ruins of his old home had been abandoned by everyone, including his Satyrs, who were still fanatical about his memory.
  
  Why would anyone have thought about searching for something here?
  
  "Enough about the Coalition for now. The bureaucratic investigations to find the names of all escapees will continue. Let's speak of Commodus himself."
  
  "The special prison is complete, my Lord, and we have already an extremely sophisticated cell to make his eternity a hell that won't have any equivalent anywhere but the Pit."
  
  "I have no doubt about this." Hades smiled. "But there are politics involved."
  
  "Politics, my Lord? I don't think some of the Gods and Goddesses above have any right to open their mouths! They already should be on their knees before Perseus Jackson for having saved the day from the problems they allowed to happen under their watch!"
  
  Hades laughed.
  
  "Yes, Megaera, you have a point." The King of Hell replied. "And rest assured, I am not going to invite my nephew and nieces in my realm anytime soon. That said, after a multitude of letters, I have decided to compromise."
  
  "In what way, my Lord?
  
  A massive roll of parchment was teleported from his office.
  
  When it was unrolled, it was revealed to be more than a kilometre in length...and it was getting longer.
  
  "This is the 'List of Tortures Olympus politely requests you inflict on Commodus'."
  
  "I like the name, my Lord." Megaera licked her lips. "But why is it getting longer?"
  
  "Because it is a self-updating document, my dear. And the Olympians are quite vengeful, especially when divine usurpations are involved."
  
  "As you say, my Lord. Let's see...coating the rapist in a mixture where Honey and Nectar have been added in lavish quantities, before letting the Cannibal Ants of the Pit devour him piece by piece. All the while small doses of Pit Scorpions will be injected in his genital parts. That's cruel!"
  
  Yes, yes, it was. If it hadn't been Commodus, Hades would have required a unanimous vote from a trio of Judges before himself taking a week of deliberation to approve or not the punishment.
  
  But it was the punishment of Commodus.
  
  No deliberation was necessary for this.
  
  "Who suggested this?" Megaera asked before reading the next line. "Oh right, Artemis."
  
  The Erinye frowned.
  
  "Sometimes, my Lord, your niece worries me."
  
  "Oh, believe me Megaera, it's not the first time I am worried about my niece."
  
  "Yes. Ahem. Second proposal: drowning the bastard into an alcoholic beverage which will have fermented with a base of Nemean Lion's fluids. I don't even need to read that one, I know who recommended it."
  
  Yes, that was Dionysus, no doubt about it.
  
  "Third proposal...is it even possible to transform him into a house cat?" The Fury stopped reading. "It's going to take a few months to put all these ideas into practise, my Lord."
  
  "We have all the time in the world, Megaera." Hades bared his teeth. "Or to use a more appropriate and charming expression, Commodus is here at your pleasure, and is not going anywhere until his sentence is served."
  
  The howling in the distance told the King of Hell that yes, Alecto and Tisiphone had listened to every word of this conversation.
  
  Hades wasn't troubled by it. Commodus had gambled massively all his crimes wouldn't catch up with him before he became a powerful God.
  
  With everything having collapsed upon his head, it was only fair Hades told the entire world that vile actions earned extremely violent punishments in Hell.
  
  21 February 2007, Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, somewhere in the Caribbean Sea
  
  "RRIIIIIIIIICH! WE ARE SOOOOO RIIIIIICHHHHH! SESTERCES AND DRACHMAS, I LOVE YOU!"
  
  "Oh come on, not again..."
  
  And yes, Richard to step aside to avoid a collision with delirious penguins he would rather avoid.
  
  "You should stop that." He said to their crazy leader once he was in the conference room.
  
  "I should stop what?"
  
  "Exciting the penguins!" The son of Hercules rolled his eyes. "Among other things."
  
  "It's not my fault they are so impressionable."
  
  Richard glared at the son of Poseidon. Unfortunately, the younger Demigod had never been the kind to be cowed by a glare alone, and today was no exception.
  
  "I should add 'unlike you, my muscular lieutenant'."
  
  "I am not your girlfriend, but I can add two plus two, Jackson." Richard rolled his eyes. "I know we've been rewarded with sixty-six million Drachmas. Yes, I'm very happy. Yes, I know it's a considerable sum."
  
  It was likely the biggest amount of cash Olympus had handed to a group of Questers since World War Two, and it was a single payment.
  
  "But once we begin dividing the spoils, the amount of money decrease. I'm not blind; some of the biggest sums during your first Great Quest were possible because they were about twelve of you at the end. It is not the case here."
  
  He also had seen Jackson promise some 'blood's debt' payment to the Telekhines before departing the Forge of All Perils. Then there were the Roman survivors, who had not been included, but would need to be taken into account at some point. And last but not least, not all their members who perished had died as traitors. Obviously, the near-totality of the Huntresses could be forgotten. The Suicide Squad wasn't going to pay anything when their own family was the Hunt, and their Goddess was an ungrateful bitch.
  
  "This is true, from a certain point of view." Perseus grinned. "But the money we got rewarded with by certain Gods and Goddesses is not the only rewards earned by the Suicide Squad, oh lieutenant."
  
  Richard Grant froze for several seconds, digging inside his memories.
  
  "Chrysaor," the adult Demigod spoke after a long moment of reflexion. "You looted everything valuable aboard his ship."
  
  "And since I didn't want to keep anything but a few trinkets, I sold the entire cargo to Atlantis." Perseus confirmed shamelessly. "For less than one hour of battle, it was a very profitable enterprise."
  
  Richard had been a bit more concerned about other things, like the ruthless punishment their leader had made sure Chrysaor would get. He hadn't counted the piles of treasure.
  
  "How much?"
  
  "Eight million Drachmas, give or take."
  
  He couldn't help but whistle in appreciation. Yeah, the Olympians rewarded them with more, but it was for the entire Quest, which included the mad 'Twelve Labours' of this narcissist-rapist of Commodus.
  
  "It was, I admit, a very profitable battle."
  
  "It was." The red eye stared at him in amusement. "Really, now that I have the figures, Annabeth told me it was the second most profitable battle of our adventures."
  
  Richard snorted.
  
  "The first being the Forge of All Perils, right?"
  
  "Of course."
  
  Yes, he should have known. Now that the Curses on the weapons were all broken or cancelled, there was trove of things that could be sold to the highest bidder. And that wasn't counting the fact the Telekhines were more or less 'borrowing' the Forge to Perseus and the Goddess Rhode. Or the rumours about everything Luke and others had been up to...
  
  "How much?" He asked for the second time, and braced himself.
  
  "Between forty and forty-two percent of what I wanted to sell have been traded away at the moment we speak." The grin grew quickly very, very smug. "I will be able to add about one hundred and ten million Drachmas to the fortune we will divide between each other at New Byzantium."
  
  Richard tried to hide it, but okay, he was very impressed.
  
  "It is before we pay taxes to the Owl Goddess, right?" With Annabeth Chase as Perseus' financial secretary, the odds of it escaping the Athena's vigilance was not worth the headache.
  
  "No, no, it is after."
  
  He swallowed. How much money had it been before?
  
  "Right," he tried to calm himself. "Should I fear for my heart when I know what else what the products of pillage and looting have earned us?"
  
  "Little, I'm afraid," Perseus affirmed, in a very disappointed expression. "After that, we got in battles where most of our surroundings got destroyed, and we sure as the Pit hadn't the opportunity to loot anything. Be it the Battle of Pear Island, the Clash of the Titans, or Commodus' Last Stand, we were prevented several times from acquiring more enemy wealth. And the toys we got from Forge MP-42 are useful enough that we aren't going to sell them."
  
  "That makes sense...but still, over one hundred million Drachmas..."
  
  "Richard, the God of Trade pays at least ten times that amount of taxes to Olympus in a single year. In fact, all the Olympians earn more than the Drachma sum we just earned in a single year, and yes, I'm adding both the spoils of the Forge of All Perils, Chrysaor's involuntary contribution, and the Olympians' rewards on top of each other. It also must be mentioned that it wasn't a single Olympian making the payment, though of course the Goddess of Love was the primary force behind it."
  
  Richard grimaced, but found nothing to say. You didn't get old by being stupid, and all Demigods knew that the Olympians weren't just monstrously powerful, they also controlled more wealth than your imagination could likely thought of. Zeus being bankrupted temporarily had only happened because of Hera.
  
  And yes, this meant the Demigods were abysmally poor because of a deliberate choice of their parents. The average Quests delivered pathetic payments that risked a lot for little gain.
  
  "I suppose I stand corrected." It would take several hours to assimilate fully the information delivered in the last minutes. And no, he wasn't going to laugh hysterically accompanied by the squeaking of the penguins.
  
  Maybe.
  
  Probably.
  
  "But I came for an entirely different discussion. A far less pleasant subject. About what happened inside the Forge of All Perils."
  
  His expression must have been significant enough, because the grin faded away.
  
  "I am going to get some pineapple juice. I have a feeling we're both going to need it."
  
  It took several drinks and a long moment of silence to properly start.
  
  "They wanted to use this eldritch power again in the Coliseum."
  
  "They did."
  
  "If you ask the God of Wine-"
  
  "I did. I was rebuffed."
  
  This time, Richard couldn't hide his surprise.
  
  "I would have thought...well, that it wouldn't be a problem. Honestly, you already know quantity of things Olympus prefers you'd be ignorant about."
  
  "I can't disagree. But this time, I was denied. There's apparently a big law about it, and the circumstances aren't dire enough to tolerate exceptions."
  
  "Not dire enough?" Richard spoke with was no doubt an aghast voice. "Without you, we would have gotten a second Nocturna, except likely in Leopard form, or something close!"
  
  The vivid memory of the Serpopard being enslaved to Prometheus was not the kind of thing you ever forgot.
  
  "I can't be certain, having had no time for a deep analysis, but I don't think it was the Leopard. It's the God of Wine's favourite animal. But I could be wrong. I admit I don't know much about this very dangerous ritual."
  
  "You must have some ideas, though."
  
  "Oh, I have. Do you remember what Nocturna chose to don when it came to cursed artefacts, Richard?"
  
  "Yes," the son of Hercules said slowly. "It was a pair of boots."
  
  "Your memory is perfectly accurate."
  
  "I must admit I wasn't paying attention about the fashion or anything about them. They were vaguely black, yes, but aside from that..."
  
  "I saw them. And I can tell you that yes, they were black, but with an important detail: they were made of scales."
  
  Of course. How had they missed that?
  
  "Serpent scales."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "The boots were made of the skin of the Sire of the Drakons."
  
  "Yes. A vector so he could channel the eldritch power, and direct the ritual from Arcadia." Perseus made an ugly grimace. "It goes without saying that with Otrera having donned a Cyber-Hoplite Armour, I couldn't exactly see anything. But I presume that if she had removed her equipment, a similar pair of boots would have become visible."
  
  "Blood of monsters," Richard cursed.
  
  The son of Poseidon didn't answer.
  
  "How by the Pit did the Sire of the Drakons manage to fool everyone? I mean, yeah, he's shedding his skin like a snake. Yes, he can likely pay someone to make him a pair of boots out of it...or several. But the Sire was hiding in Arcadia, rarely staying out of it. And there were a lot of Frost Iguanas inside the Forge. Commodus or someone else from the Coalition would have had to fight their way through them."
  
  "They would have to do that if the boots weren't sent here before the Forge of All Perils fell to the Drakon."
  
  "Are we going to pretend the Super-Oracle can anticipate our actions centuries before we are born?"
  
  "No." Perseus didn't grin, and his red eye was absolutely frightening now. "Oracles are far-sighted, but they can't predict the future with that level of accuracy. They are able to watch the plans of Fate itself before they are revealed to Demigods like us. Predicting that I could choose the Forge of All Perils as one of my destinations, and thus providing a book to influence the choice, yes, that's doable. But the boots were already there long before that."
  
  "In that case, I admit I don't see how it could be done." Richard admitted while drinking more pineapple juice.
  
  "I, unfortunately, can make an educated guess." And the leader of the Suicide Squad did not look at all pleased. "The biggest source of the Sire's scales was his corpse. You know, when he was killed the first time around. It is not like it is done repeatedly every Monday. Your father kept his trophy after slaying the Nemean Lion, for example."
  
  "Err...yes." Richard snickered. "But the Nemean Lion isn't an Oracle, nor it is a particularly intelligent monster. I mean, sure, now that Panther Kowalski and all the others have become Nemean Lionesses, I am sure the intelligence of the species will massively skyrocket, but-"
  
  The male Demigod's hilarity stopped, as he realised what he was saying.
  
  That someone would have been stupid enough to make boots and other pieces of clothing from something as dangerous as an Oracle, who happened to be bigger than the Primordial Ice Drakon, another God-Beast.
  
  "This...this would be utterly moronic. It would be the heights of stupidity."
  
  "Yes." Perseus had a disgusted expression. "It would be petty. It would be childish. It would be insulting your enemy. Unlike with the Nemean Lion, the entire thing wouldn't be done to get some protection. While we don't know much about the battle which saw the Sire slain, due to a multitude of contradictory versions, it would be foolishness itself to make footwear while the corpse is not yet cold. But then nobody would do something so ridiculous as giving a slightly different name to the mortal girl living in the lair of the former Oracle, right?"
  
  Yeah, it all fit.
  
  Damn you, Apollo. Why couldn't the God of the Sun burn the corpse, and call it a day?
  
  "It was supposed to be a mark of respect, according to the legends..."
  
  "Last time I checked, Richard, the Sire of the Drakons wasn't female."
  
  He winced. And yes, the arrow hit the target at the very centre of it.
  
  "We have two Primordial Drakons roaming at large, plus the Sire, and the Olympians have done their best to screw up everything."
  
  "It's worse than that, I'm afraid."
  
  "How can it be worse?" Richard spat.
  
  "Simple," the son of the Earthshaker replied without hesitation. "We don't know how many pair of boots have been made...assuming of course the creator of these serpentine items decided to limit himself to boots."
  
  If Apollo wasn't a God, Richard would already be trying to find ways to strangle him.
  
  "With the benefit of hindsight, maybe it's not the God of Wine you have to interrogate as fast as you can, Perseus."
  
  "Assuming he is the creator of these boots..." Was Perseus trying to defend the God of Music and Healing? "No, I have no interest in defending him. He's the most likely culprit of this there is no doubt. And he chose the name for the First Oracle of Delphi. That isn't in question. But we don't know the circumstances of the slaying at all. In fact, I find the entire tale rather...fishy."
  
  "How so? Michael's father killed the Sire of the Drakons."
  
  Richard had never seen him fight, but Apollo wasn't a member of Council because of his smile and his atrocious poetry skills.
  
  "If we were speaking about the God like he is today, I have no doubt the Sire has a good chance of receiving a significant defeat." The red eye grew thoughtful. "But it wasn't what happened. A very, very young God, one who lacked the Sun and plenty of his current Domains, challenged the Sire of the Drakons in the fullness of his powers. You've seen what I had to do to slay Fimbulvetr, Richard. The Goddess of Snow and Ice had to support me with enough divine power to go through its defences. And this Ice Drakon was never the Sire. It did not have any precognition powers."
  
  In other words, there was no way Apollo as he was then could have won against Python alone.
  
  The urge was strong to say he was wrong.
  
  Except, of course, Perseus was rarely wrong when he decided to seriously investigate a point of their mythological past. The entire Second Great Quest was evidence enough of that.
  
  "What are we going to do?"
  
  "Nothing."
  
  "Nothing?"
  
  "We have just gained our diplomatic immunity, and for many reasons, Olympus does not believe the threat is so urgent as to put everyone on a war footing. So yes, there's nothing we can do. But once everything blows up once more, I will be there to shout 'I told you so' to the Olympians."
  
  Perseus grinned again.
  
  "And this time, they will have no choice but to spill their big secrets."
  
  "I don't think your crazy logic will impress them very much," the son of Hercules felt he had to point out.
  
  "My logic, no. But if there's something this Great Quest has proven, it is that the Council needs the Suicide Squad to win the day."
  
  Perseus drank more pineapple juice before continuing.
  
  "Without us, who would fight the battles that the other Demigods will lose?"
  
  22 February 2007, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  "According to the Legion's gossip, the Inevitable Doom has been observed crossing back the Panama Canal from west to east with the golden pennants."
  
  "They're still alive?" Frank exclaimed.
  
  "Well, the Consuls didn't exactly confide in me or announced who was alive and who wasn't," Jason joked.
  
  "Oh, I know." The son of Mars nodded quickly. "Damn. When the Titan announced they were to fight the God of War, I was sure they were done for."
  
  The son of Jupiter didn't miss how his friend had said 'God of War' and not 'my father'.
  
  "I wouldn't have bet a Sesterce on them at the time. And since the live feed abruptly switched out after that and didn't return...assumptions were made."
  
  "Yes," Frank Zhang managed to cough off a laugh. "Assumptions were made, all right."
  
  Several people had rushed to the bookmakers, arguing with them that surely, it meant the Suicide Squad had perished for good, this time. Other parties had decided otherwise, and not a single coin had been delivered for now, with plenty of people waiting for official news.
  
  For some reason, the Olympians and every divine party who made a temporary detour to New Constantinople were very, very tight-lipped.
  
  Something big must have happened, Jason knew.
  
  Or something bigger, since the 'Twelve Labours' had not exactly been short of big revelations.
  
  "They're going to be legends in their own right." Frank remarked. Jason knew that was saying the obvious, but there were some jealous parties who had refused to acknowledge the evidence the first time around.
  
  "Yes. There were few Questers alive who could boast having survived a Great Quest."
  
  All of them, it must be noted, were incredibly eccentric.
  
  "But none of them did ever complete two Great Quests in their entire lives, never mind the same decade."
  
  Frank rolled his eyes.
  
  "Talk about bloody over-achievers."
  
  "I think the word you missed is crazy, Frank."
  
  "Perseus Jackson was crazy before going on a Great Quest. That, or he had a death wish. I can't decide which version is correct."
  
  "And this is better than the eccentric heroes that are quarantined away from the rest of the population because?"
  
  Jason frowned.
  
  "I don't think we can use the word 'better' in that sort of circumstances...or ever, really." The blonde Legionnaire replied.
  
  "On a totally related matter...does Octavian know, in your opinion?"
  
  "I WILL KILL HIM! I WANT HIM DEAD! I WILL HAVE HIM DEAD TO RIGHTS THE MOMENT HE RETURNS!"
  
  The scream of outrage was so powerful it scared off the many birds of the city.
  
  Jason began to laugh. It was way too good, and besides, he wasn't the only Legionnaire who did it; dozens were snickering or outright giggling around them.
  
  "Yes. I think we can affirm Octavian McArthur is now aware of the Suicide Squad's return."
  
  Jason continued to show how he found it hilarious, before sobering up.
  
  "Though honestly, Frank, I wish you wouldn't have freed him from his golden imprisonment."
  
  "Believe me, Jason, I regret very much freeing him, and I didn't do it on purpose. And yes, I know, my clumsiness will kill me one day. But how in the name of the Pantheon could I know that mule's milk was the secret ingredient to remove the Curse of Midas the daughter of Magic had cursed Octavian and his lieutenants with?"
  
  "You couldn't," Jason agreed readily. "Just don't expect the higher-ups to compliment you for that, however. They were thinking the little bastard was at last no longer there to make himself a nuisance. That said..."
  
  "You aren't going to agree with them, right? Right?"
  
  "No, I don't." Jason reassured his friend. "I was just going to say that I find the coincidence a bit troubling. The cart with all these containers of mule's milk passing before the gold statues right as several other animals in panic spread chaos all around? This feels more than a simple coincidence. One might say it was something above what a Demigod could influence."
  
  This was the kind of 'amusement' Discordia, Roman Goddess of Chaos and Strife, had made her reputation upon.
  
  "Coincidence or not, Octavian McArthur is back." Frank grimaced.
  
  "Back, but not unscathed," the son of Jupiter corrected. "He's likely going to be thrown out of the Legion tomorrow."
  
  "Under what charges?"
  
  "Desertion, of course; he after all abandoned his men in the Sea of Monsters and returned home without Godly permission."
  
  The charges were a bit vengeful and not exactly made in good faith, yes.
  
  "His family has likely the money to save his head."
  
  "They probably can, yes. But even for them, the sum is a big hit to their funds. They aren't going to close their eyes on Octavian's actions anymore. And they will demand the little bastard repay everything."
  
  Frank snorted loudly.
  
  "And how can he do that in the first place? An officer's pay in the Legions is one of the few ways to make a fortune if you have no big household behind you, and you were just saying he was going to be thrown out of the Fulminata!"
  
  "HIS SUPER-YACHT MUST BURN! HIS PENGUINS MUST DIE! HIS ALLIES MUST BE THROWN IN A JAIL WITH THE KEYS LOST INTO SOME MONSTERS' BELLIES!"
  
  "Frank, as much as we Roman love service in the Legions, I regret to inform you that there's another way for Demigods to earn plenty of money."
  
  The son of Mars looked at him like he had said the world was flat.
  
  "Jason, Octavian hates the Greeks and the Questers, and not necessarily in that order."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "You think he's going to accept joyously to live next to them...no, to become one?"
  
  "Joyously? No." Jason laughed again. "But if he wants to avoid the ugly fate of those who need to pay back their debts, his choices are going to be very thin on the ground."
  
  "I should feel bad to think that, but Gods be witness, the little bastard deserves it."
  
  "PERSEUS JACKSON! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
  
  "Oh, he does. Still, I would have loved you to not have freed him from his gold prison, Frank. As it was, only three of his lieutenants and himself were still alive. A few more days, and the mule's milk would have had no effect anymore; the curse would have been permanent."
  
  "I know Jason, and believe me, I very much regret it." Frank winced. "Do you think I will be able to make amends for it when he will be thrown out of the Legion?"
  
  "What were you thinking about?"
  
  "If mule's milk was the secret ingredient to cancel the curse, maybe flour is the top-secret ingredient to reactivate it?"
  
  "Frank, my friend, I love your reasoning!"
  
  "I WILL KILL YOU JACKSON!"
  
  There was a Prophecy.
  
  It was not uttered by any Great Oracle. There was no cataclysmic weather, and there were no witnesses.
  
  It was delivered by a voice coming out of a tomb, and it told a twelve-year-old boy that he wouldn't live to see his thirteen birthday.
  
  Someone would have seen it as a final curse in a miserable existence.
  
  The boy, a Prince whose existence was seen by disgust by the majority of the royal household, saw it as liberating.
  
  Why bother whimpering and living a meek existence when everything is about to end soon enough?
  
  When conspirators came in the middle of the night, the boy accepted.
  
  The government was toppled.
  
  The Prince became a Tyrant, and the men who had thought him easier to control than his benevolent nephew soon rued their mistake.
  
  They learned no one was capable of controlling tyranny, much as mortals can do nothing but rage against the storm.
  
  When he was thirteen, the boy didn't die. Fate and Prophecies couldn't be broken; but with the right push, they could be guided.
  
  Thirteen Wishes were to be used, one for each year that the boy should have lived.
  
  It was, some heroic figures would believe, utter madness.
  
  It was villainous.
  
  It was the very symbol of the struggle between Gods.
  
  By sixteen, the boy had declared war against all his neighbours, and soon, the sparks would burn all of Creation.
  
  This was announced by no Prophecy.
  
  Good gathered its heroes, and heroes did fail to defeat the Tyrant.
  
  How could they, when first part of the plan couldn't fail, and the boy always had a new plan to put into motion?
  
  It was a complicated idea.
  
  It was a pleasure to make it work.
  
  For a time, I was the boy.
  
  For a time, I was the Tyrant.
  
  For a time, sweet victory was mine.
  
  And in the end, no, it wasn't the Heroes who were the solution.
  
  I was invincible.
  
  Until the return of the Queen.
  
  24 February 2007, Seville, Spain
  
  The scenery was the old town of Seville.
  
  Prometheus had chosen it himself.
  
  He found it oddly pleasing: the coloured houses, the nearby presence of the Old Alcazar, and the food!
  
  Yes, many restaurants were not opened in February, but the food was excellent. Seville was an excellent place to visit if you loved food. The north of Spain could be forgotten, but here in Andalusia, culinary traditions stayed strong to please your mouth and your tongue.
  
  Just for this, Prometheus visited regularly.
  
  It was a pleasing coincidence that since it was winter, the tourists were rather thin on the ground, and as a result so were the spies of Olympus.
  
  There were no security problems, or at least not the ones which would have existed if he had tried to push for a meeting in June or July.
  
  The meeting location, he had chosen with care.
  
  It was a very small interior court, and the mortal owners were all in holiday at the moment.
  
  The place had been discreetly sealed away from the outside world, before it was allowed to expand far beyond its original size.
  
  Then one by one, the shadowy thrones had been conjured into existence.
  
  His had been the first, of course, with the defeated Queen of Amazons leashed to it.
  
  Yes, of course, he could have left Otrera somewhere else before coming here.
  
  But he hadn't.
  
  In his opinion, the former Bride of Ares was perfect. Perfect to make sure some of his co-conspirators took the situation seriously. The message was clear: screw up massively enough while thinking you knew better than him, and nobody would be able to save you from the consequences of your epic failure.
  
  Prometheus stayed silent for several minutes as the senior figures of the Coalition answered the call.
  
  In the end, none denied him.
  
  One by one, not counting his seat, there were nine Thrones occupied out of the eleven available.
  
  "Gentlemen, I wish you a good morning."
  
  No one answered. Aside from the Coalition, these beings had little in common. Maybe a few would be called 'allies' or even 'friends', but there were the exception, not the rule.
  
  And besides, the majority thought that salutations were a waste of time.
  
  "I am happy to inform you that so far, Olympus is reacting Commodus' failures exactly as we thought they would."
  
  "They are indeed increasing their influence and pressure all across the world to make billions embrace Greek-Roman worship." Midas spoke with his usual sarcasm. "Smith International. Mercury Unlimited. Trident Shipyards. They have decided to not be subtle about it anymore."
  
  "Laugh all you want," came a feminine voice, "but their effort to convert worshippers are bearing fruit. The number of worshippers they have has increased by several millions this month alone, and it's becoming more and more efficient, especially in America and Europe."
  
  "Yes." Prometheus took back control of the meeting with long ease of habit. "This is why I think the moment has come."
  
  Yes, all the nine beings were not exactly sanguine about the idea.
  
  "Do you agree, Oracle?"
  
  Python hissed loudly.
  
  "The Three Prophecies are active."
  
  "Three?" Midas called out.
  
  "Three," the Sire of the Drakons confirmed. "The most recent one, the one that everyone here is aware of, that announces the coming of a Demigod reaching sixteen against all odds. In the end, he or she will make the great choice to preserve or raze Olympus."
  
  There were several mutters. One of them suspiciously sounded like 'Perseus Jackson', it must be said.
  
  Prometheus didn't even raise an eyebrow at that. It was true the son of Poseidon was a highly likely candidate for it.
  
  "The second one is hardly recent," Python continued, the hisses mixing with the human words. "It is the old Prophecy, the Curse of the Sky itself. Much like his Father before him, the current King of the Gods will be overthrown by one of his children."
  
  "One would have thought," a calm, cultivated voice commented neutrally, "that it would have ensured the Lord of Thunder controlled his urges and stopped fornicating with every female that he found beautiful."
  
  "One would have thought this, yes." Prometheus agreed lightly.
  
  To be honest, he had never understood Zeus when it came to that. It was bad enough Ouranos and Kronos had indeed been overthrown by their children, and in their cases the Prophecies had specified their vanquishers would be divine. This detail had been absent for the one who was delivered to Zeus. It could be any child of the Master of Olympus.
  
  And at the risk of saying the incredibly obvious, there were a lot of children who could claim Zeus or Jupiter was their sire these days.
  
  "And the Third Prophecy...this Prophecy has just been begun reasserting itself. It announces the return of the Threat."
  
  Plenty of the beings assembled grimaced. Prometheus himself wasn't very happy about it either. The Threat was no laughing matter, and without Python, he wouldn't even have known what was coming.
  
  "I still think the current strategy represents a massive danger, Lord Chairman."
  
  The Titan of Crafty Counsel was hardly surprised. The argument had often come back lately. It had the merit of being true, after all.
  
  "We need power." Prometheus reminded his co-conspirators. "If we miss a step, if we wait for too long, we will either find ourselves in a bitter war of attrition with Olympus. One we will certainly lose, to be honest."
  
  The Olympians had a multitude of flaws, but they were all powerful immortals. The same couldn't be exactly said for the Coalition at the moment. There was a reason why many of them had stayed hidden for many centuries, if not longer.
  
  "And if the Threat rises while we have been unable to secure our plans? What if there is no new order sufficiently strong to come out of the ashes of Olympus?"
  
  "Then we will all lose in the end, and our defeat will be terrifyingly fast and humiliating." Prometheus replied truthfully. "But then, it is going to happen to the Master of Olympus and his court of spoiled children. Unlike us, they don't have the choice to hide."
  
  "It is too soon. We miss two members to make it twelve."
  
  "Then we better contact worthy candidates, no?" Midas smiled viciously.
  
  "It is too soon," one protested. "Yes, we didn't lose that many resources when Commodus got himself killed proving his stupidity for the whole world, but we had to stay discreet and hide our supply lines as best as we could. We need time!"
  
  Prometheus clasped his hands.
  
  "Some time for the preparations, I can give you. I need time on my own to make sure the tools are positioned exactly where we want them."
  
  "And the Suicide Squad? They came incredibly close to ruin everything."
  
  Midas was the one to answer first.
  
  "It is almost certain Olympus will send them the moment we make our move and Godly intervention proves impossible." The Treasurer of the Coalition shrugged. "They will be incredibly dangerous opponents; I don't think anyone here is going to pretend otherwise."
  
  No, they wouldn't. Doing so would make them as bad as Commodus, and the rumours of the tortures the werewolf ex-Emperor was on the receiving end of guaranteed a certain level of humility for everyone who had dreamed of following on his footsteps.
  
  "The Suicide Squad has proven tenacious, and more troublesome than the Argonauts ever were. On the other hand, their great strength is also their weakness. They are a group of Questers. A formidable group, it goes without saying, but there weren't fifty of them, and the Coliseum showed their Demigod powers and endurance have limits. Anti-Demigod tactics will need to be perfected."
  
  "I still find the reasoning extremely perilous, Lord Chairman." Naturally, it would be him who would be the loudest objector. "If the Wyld can't be turned into the weapon we need-"
  
  "It will work." Python hissed. "The first tests worked as they should, didn't they? And in battle-conditions, we all learned very much of the test-rituals."
  
  "Otrera was a massive failure."
  
  The female Serpopard growled at the feet of his Throne, and was ignored with the scorn she deserved.
  
  "Otrera was the lesson that getting predictable results in your opponents anticipating the threat and finding a way to stop the decisive blow before it is launched. I trust everyone has learned from it?"
  
  A few of the Throne owners scowled.
  
  Good, the lessons were getting learned, then.
  
  "Let's admit for the moment you are right," the fiercest critic relented and admitted the Titan of Crafty Counsel's argument had hit their mark. "Which plan do we go for? With what the son of the Seas and the daughter of Hell have done, we can't launch Apocalypse."
  
  "This is true." Prometheus conceded easily the point. "I was thinking about something special. One of the plans we kept in reserve."
  
  "You're speaking about that plan?"
  
  Prometheus didn't utter a single additional word; he merely nodded.
  
  25 February 2007, Divus Senatus Council Chambers, Olympus
  
  The Divus Senatus Council Chambers hadn't been used in a while, and in this case the 'while' was over two decades ago.
  
  It was nothing very surprising: Zeus preferred to limit debates and policy arguments to the strict minimum when he ordered something, and it was far easier to do it when there were eleven immortals in the room than when they were one hundred and forty-three.
  
  Moreover, when it was time to hear his brother's capricious tantrums, most of the Olympians agreed that the fewer witnesses there were, the better it was for everyone. It was already bad enough that operational security was inexistent, and that accurate resumes of an entire Council meeting could be found within three hours after its ending from at least two different sources.
  
  "Some Gods are going to wonder why we don't do this more often." Pluto remarked, who had donned one of his usual black suits for the meeting.
  
  Neptune snorted.
  
  "You know why we don't do this more often." The Roman God of the Sea replied without bothering to lower his voice. "If we did, all the Gods and Goddesses present would begin to believe their voices matter when it comes to Olympian politics. And our youngest brother doesn't want that."
  
  "I would have rather thought it was more the fact that so many of the hundred and forty-four do not live on Olympus that would be the problem." The Lord of the Underworld told him.
  
  Neptune gave a glance to his surroundings to count. Yes, between Pluto's first wife and his, his violent daughter, in addition to several other Chthonian and Atlantean immortals, the room did not have the overwhelming majority of Olympus-based deities the Council did take for granted.
  
  "You may have a point."
  
  "You agree with me? That's a first today."
  
  "I agree with you. Though I think you are way too optimistic. The Divine Senate is not a democracy."
  
  "Oh, I know. It is just an assembly useful to show a spectacle of unity. It let our brother pretend he has listened to the opinion of everyone who has sworn vows to him."
  
  His eyes fell upon the lonely seat on the right edge of the Throne assembly. The composition had changed a lot these last days, but everyone had swallowed both praises and insults, and the Gods and Goddesses had flowed into Olympus for this momentous event.
  
  The Throne of Juno, in the end, was the only one who remained desperately empty if you didn't count the two big seats on the royal podium.
  
  "Our sister is going to be a big problem when she will assimilate back her divine power."
  
  Neptune grimaced.
  
  Whether Hera or Juno, their sister had hardly been someone easy to live with.
  
  But she had been someone that could be predicted. They had had millennia to get used to her moods, her Domains and what made her explode in fury - most of the time Zeus-Jupiter's infidelities.
  
  Hera as a Goddess of Seasons was a totally different factor, one which was going to shatter a lot of things. The divorce to Zeus would have been something extraordinarily significant alone; her no longer holding Marriage was an additional hurricane who would eventually storm Olympus.
  
  "If it's the kind of bad news you want me to be distracted with, I would have brought some rum."
  
  "With the quantities your son dedicated to you, brother, I think you can afford the drinks."
  
  "I don't have many that bottles." The God of the Seas protested.
  
  "Because you empty them each time your son does something utterly ridiculous?"
  
  "Perhaps." The truth was more 'yes, I do'. "For the moment, though, I don't have a bottle from the 'King's Collection'."
  
  Pluto snickered.
  
  "I told you that you were too close to your entire persona when you sired your son. Earthquakes, the Sea, the Voice of the Ocean...and that's just the ones he's been experimenting with for now."
  
  "Should we discuss how much you've been giving your hellion of a daughter?" Neptune smirked back. "That is, until we see how much my son of is of a bad influence with your younger child."
  
  The Lord of Hell groaned.
  
  "When I arranged these Mythomagic cards to fall into his hands, I must have been drunk, and I assuredly didn't know what I was doing."
  
  Yes, this had been something no one had seen coming. One could see the positive side, though: Uno and Mythomagic had benefitted from a massive upsurge in popularity right as the Adjudicator Challenge ended.
  
  Conversations ended as Vesta left her throne, and within a few seconds, the twelve Hearts of the Chamber began to burn with the Eternal Flame.
  
  "This session is hereby opened. Let Family rejoice, for we are together once more."
  
  Their white-robed sister returned back to her Throne, looking more aggressive than she'd been in a century, and many Goddesses whispered in excitation.
  
  "Things are changing rapidly," Pluto murmured.
  
  "Our enemies do change just as fast as too," Neptune mused.
  
  This conversation didn't go further; not when Jupiter himself entered the room.
  
  For today, the Lord of Olympus had chosen to don his flamboyant purple toga, and the only thing besides that was his symbol of power, the original Master Bolt.
  
  This, obviously, was a statement of power, indicating that whatever reverses he had suffered, the King of the Gods remained as strong as ever. And there was some support in favour: his financial situation had improved as taxes flowed back into the treasury, and the absence of a major war, courtesy of the Suicide Squad led by his son, had been a great relief for the non-military economy.
  
  The eyes of his brother shone with traces of steel, and Neptune could almost read his thoughts: yes, in plenty of circumstances, Jupiter was worth following. The comparison with Zeus' paranoia and other unscrupulous behaviour couldn't have been more glaring.
  
  "Brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces." Jupiter rumbled. "Lords and Ladies of Olympus, Atlantis, Cthonia, and many other bastions of civilisation. I present you the new Queen of the Gods."
  
  The golden gates in the opposite direction their brother had come from opened, revealing her.
  
  Victoria had chosen a toga too for today, of course. There had never been any doubt about that.
  
  What neither Neptune nor Pluto had really anticipated that the Goddess of Victory would choose a golden-black toga to make her debut.
  
  Why was it important? No, the black-coloured shoulders and the golden chest had no magical power by themselves. The same applied to the black trim which could be observed on key parts of the cloth.
  
  It was just that they had seen their sister, both as Hera and Juno, arrive in very important Council sessions with clothes that had been exactly modelled like that.
  
  The message was delivered, and it was not subtle.
  
  Victoria was here, and she was here to stay.
  
  If Juno or any other Goddess wanted to take the Throne, they were going to have to defeat her first, and as one could imagine, it was not exactly something trivial.
  
  The Queen of Victory placed her right hand in those of Jupiter.
  
  With her long black braid and her implacable eyes, Neptune could vouch that she had something of a young Juno.
  
  "I wonder how long it will take her to go after Zeus' bastards." Pluto had cast a shadow enchantment to ensure only his ears heard the words.
  
  "She can't touch the Grace children."
  
  "She can't. But they aren't the only children he sired."
  
  Neptune wished he was surprised, but alas, he wasn't.
  
  "And to say he made some accusations when the existence of my son was revealed." The King of Atlantis breathed out. "One can only hope that removing Ares-Mars from the Council will bring some stability."
  
  "There would be a chance of stability if left to our own devices." Pluto said darkly. "But since we have so many enemies preparing their own offensives, I can tell you, Neptune, that I have no confidence the new Council will resist the equivalent of a long and prolonged assault with siege engines hammering Olympus' gates."
  
  His brother had not mentioned the Underworld's gates. And why would he? With three Queens instead of one, Pluto was far more secure in his Domain than any other Olympian.
  
  Neptune grimaced again deep inside.
  
  Yes, it wasn't going to end well.
  
  And when it exploded again out of control, his Demigod son would be summoned.
  
  Then events would be truly shattered beyond repair.
  
  28 February 2007, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  For the last step of their Great Quest, the Gods had made sure it happened under a perfect weather.
  
  Okay, perfect for a month of February.
  
  The air was cold, but there was little wind, and the sun could shine over a blue sky once the morning mists had disappeared.
  
  "Well, it seems at least two-thirds of the city and its neighbourhood has come to greet us." Dakota blinked and then emptied one of his jugs in one gulp. "Is it my imagination, or-"
  
  "It's not your imagination." Perseus shook his head. "The city is bigger than it once was. I can count at least two new blocks on the Roman side just by standing here, along with new public baths, something that looks like a menagerie to help Legionnaires identify monsters...and further away, I think there's a giant warehouse in construction. In all likelihood, it's the new headquarters of the Amazons."
  
  Yes, this was a lot of changes, and the former Tyrant knew there were likely more he couldn't see from where he stood.
  
  "A lot of disappointed faces in the crowd," Jade pointed out, her fingers nearly transformed into ice-shrouded claws.
  
  "Think about their pain, oh Champion of Snow."
  
  "Their pain?" the blue-haired ex-Huntress repeated in incomprehension.
  
  "You didn't pay attention when we left?" Drew drawled sarcastically. "Many of our not-so-adoring public were betting against our survival. And I suppose the failure of the Great Quest too."
  
  "Yet here we are."
  
  "Here we are, yes," Perseus grinned. "We even managed to get back some long-lost Romans with us!"
  
  "Jackson, the Expeditionary Force left mere months before us." Luke intervened with a tone of long-suffering. "It's not 'long-lost'."
  
  "Details," the descendant of the Earthshaker dismissed the argument with the arrogance it deserved, all the while searching for his spyglass.
  
  "You are going to extort them a lot of Sesterces and Drachmas, don't you?"
  
  "Part of me is tempted," the former Tyrant admitted. "But honestly? No. Well, no, unless for those who engaged in bets that were backed on Oaths that involved Gods and Goddesses. For those, I am not going to risk a breach of the terms."
  
  "Yes. And the others?"
  
  "My generosity is truly boundless these days!" Perseus exclaimed. "It is possible I can be convinced to ignore the entire issue. Truly my mercy is beyond divine!"
  
  "Annabeth."
  
  SLAP!
  
  "Ouch." Yes, his cheek was burning...again.
  
  That was the problem with girlfriends; other heroic figures understood quickly that you were never going to slap them back.
  
  "And here I was thinking about sparing you a monologue." The leader of the Suicide Squad said as the Inevitable Doom approached the quays of the New Golden Horn.
  
  "Were you?"
  
  "No." Perseus recognised, and suddenly wincing before lowering his spyglass to check if his eyes were not hallucinating. They weren't. "Damn."
  
  "Problems?"
  
  "Unless my eyes are tricking me, one nasty little backstabber named Octavian McArthur escaped his prison."
  
  "Please tell me you're joking," Elvis Knight cursed some quite foul words after that.
  
  "Language," Perseus said off-handily. "And no, I'm not joking. He's here, with...at least one of his accomplices."
  
  Someone else cursed.
  
  "I thought Midas' Curse was unbreakable."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, Reyna. No curse that is cast by mortal hands and voice is unbreakable. But I thought that the way to remove the curse was sufficiently original to ensure it wouldn't be discovered until the gold they were transformed into had the time to finish its work."
  
  "There's good news at least," Hylla pointed out. "While a lot of our Roman peers are in Legionnaires' armours, Octavian isn't. I think he's been thrown out of the Legions."
  
  "That's good news, yes." Dakota agreed, nodding all he could.
  
  "No, it's not." Richard didn't let the moment of satisfaction last. "Did you forget where 'failures' go when they have debts to settle and-or some military service they owe to the Gods?"
  
  They were sent to the Questers, yes.
  
  "Anyway!" Perseus dismissed the problem for the moment. "For now, what is important is the security of the Inevitable Doom. We have many, many precious goods left aboard. As a result, we can't leave our beloved Super-Mega-Yacht without defenders. Asterius, you're in charge while we debark. Kimiko and Jade you stay here...and so do the penguins."
  
  "Yes, short one!"
  
  "By your will."
  
  "No, Kaboom?"
  
  He had unleashed something terrible upon this world, didn't he?
  
  Bah, the world and the Gods really deserved everything.
  
  "No, no Kaboom, Rico. I really don't want to test our diplomatic immunity the very day we're back."
  
  "No doubt plenty of people are already surprised you obeyed the Council's commands in the spirit they were given."
  
  "If the year two thousand and seven was bissextile, I would have tried to make sure we arrived on the twenty-ninth of February. You know, to see if it was possible to extend the immunity and the amnesties until the next twenty-ninth."
  
  "The Gods would never have accepted that!"
  
  "Oh, I know, but it would have been funny as hell to spy them trying to find a solution that would go against their rulings!"
  
  And on this, his lone red eye wide open, Perseus went ashore. Immediately, he felt the divine magic swirling around him.
  
  The Olympians weren't taking any risk this time around, did they?
  
  "REJOICE, PEOPLE OF NEW BYZANTIUM!" The former Tyrant shouted. "FOR I HAVE DECIDED THAT DEBTS ARE A TOOL OF FOREIGN OLIGARCHS! I DECLARE ALL BETS NOT MADE UNDER STRINGENT OATHS A CRIME AGAINST THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE! LONG LIVE NEW BYZANTIUM AND NEW CONSTANTINOPLE, PEERLESS JEWELS OF FREEDOM!"
  
  In mere seconds, all the constipated faces became expressions of joy and relief.
  
  Legionnaire discipline was famous. It rapidly crashed as thousands of people began to party, and it didn't help at all that a certain God chose this moment to spread around barrels and bottles. All the while, fireworks began to explode above their heads.
  
  "GLORY TO THE SUICIDE SQUAD!" Perseus shouted again. "USING ILLEGAL AUTHORITY GRANTED TO ME BY FOREIGN DESPOTS, I DECLARE A MORAL OBLIGATION TO PARTY!"
  
  Once again, the morale of giving an order that you were sure was going to be obeyed in record time was verified in all its splendour.
  
  The majority of the Legionnaires saluted and did form an honour guard around him as he advanced, Annabeth on her heels.
  
  Thousands were there, cheering and applauding.
  
  "Stop at once! He is a traitor!"
  
  "But if it isn't the most treacherous lieutenant of all! How have you fared since your shameful desertion and latest backstabbing act, Octavian?"
  
  The answer, for all those who cared, was clearly 'badly'.
  
  Someone had indeed poured mule's milk on the Legacy of Apollo, breaking the curse, but either it had been too late, or they had not been enough of it.
  
  As a result, Octavian's face and skin looked like they had been on the receiving end of scabies. With the splendid distinction that no one had probably been able to claim to have contracted gold-coloured scabies.
  
  "You tried to kill me, Jackson!"
  
  "Err...yes? You betrayed me, Octavian. Worse for you, you tried to attack Lou Ellen. Did you really think I was going to let you get away with it?"
  
  Octavian made an ugly grimace as many Legionnaires laughed.
  
  Apparently, yes, the blonde-haired Legacy had been so spoiled and used to getting his way that he had thought this would be free of consequences.
  
  "The Golden Fleece, Jackson! Give it to me!"
  
  "Out of the question!"
  
  "I am not joking!" The backstabber's hand went to his gladius.
  
  "Neither do I." A small manipulation of Hydrokinesis, and Octavian was thrown in the bay of the New Golden Horn, where he made a very loud and satisfying sound.
  
  SPLASH!
  
  The higher-ranked Roman soldiers didn't comment save with large smiles.
  
  "Now the matter of betrayal is settled temporarily," the subordinates of Octavian had decided to disappear out in the crowd, thinking discretion was the better part of valour. "I believe we have somewhere we need to go."
  
  They took chariots and paraded in front of the entire city, which was celebrating.
  
  Months ago, Perseus would likely have walked, but the expansion made it impractical at best.
  
  And yes, the expansion was not just cosmetic. There were more Demigods, some which clearly came out from other continents, in addition to plenty of Legacies. And then there were hundreds of men, women, and children who were not one or the other. They were the worshippers of the Greek-Roman Pantheon his sisters had hinted at, the communities which had spread since the Treaty of Jerusalem, and now some had been rewarded for their loyalty by being invited to settle in New Byzantium.
  
  "Do you really think it is going to work?" Annabeth asked, hands holding the Golden Fleece, as their personal chariot at last left the last houses behind them to follow the perfect paved road that lead westwards, bordered by different greenhouses and fields being prepared for the next harvest.
  
  "I, for one, don't doubt the power of the Golden Fleece."
  
  Perseus chuckled, and the daughter of Athena blushed.
  
  "I know, it's just...I saw her fall, you know."
  
  "This just means one can rise again, with a little help."
  
  "A little help?" Annabeth raised both eyebrows.
  
  "A lot of help," the former Tyrant chuckled while correcting himself. "But honestly, there's another reason of hope: the Rule of Three."
  
  "I thought it only applied to your plans and penguin's interventions."
  
  "One might think it might," Perseus grinned before returning to a serious expression. "And if Bianca had not happened to be like me, a soul reborn from the same world, I would have treated the matter as a random curiosity. But Bianca once ruled as Empress, and I am what I am."
  
  "You think Thalia could be like you? But she never told us anything about something like that!"
  
  "Because in all likelihood, she didn't remember at the time." The former Tyrant explained patiently. "I certainly didn't recover all my memories before my mother was murdered. The world broke before my eyes, and my old life surged back in my head. And while Bianca was rather evasive about the experience she suffered from..."
  
  Behind them, the chariot of she-who-was-Triumphant looked like it was made of living shadows, from the horses to the metal.
  
  "She confirmed to me, that yes, she experienced something incredibly bad when trapped inside the Lotus Casino."
  
  "The Lotus-Eaters promised the Rich One-"
  
  "The Lotus Casino is not a place for children, Annabeth."
  
  They passed through the Western Gate, and in the shadow of the heavily-enchanted walls that protected New Byzantium, they saw at last the magical Pine Tree Zeus had created years ago.
  
  Perseus made the chariot stop.
  
  Examining the procession behind them, the son of Poseidon was amused to note that curiosity was as much a potent motivation as it had ever been: an impressive crowd was following on their footsteps.
  
  Interestingly, there also were several children of Hecate.
  
  Many flinched as he gave them ironic expressions. Ah, their mother had visited them recently. Good, very good.
  
  Annabeth presented him the Golden Fleece, but Perseus quickly shook his head.
  
  "No. She was your friend. It's your privilege today."
  
  The expression of his girlfriend was something between pride and extreme blushing, but she didn't hesitate.
  
  The blonde Demigoddess stepped forwards and marched at a forced pace to the Pine Tree.
  
  Despite the roots, despite the age and the large grace, a limb and many human parts had not been hidden inside the wooden trunk.
  
  The Golden Fleece was gently placed on these symbols of fallen humanity, and immediately, the legendary artefact began its healing work.
  
  "Does it-"
  
  "Yes, it works. I can feel it. Don't you?"
  
  Annabeth shook her head.
  
  "We will have to work on your magical sensing abilities."
  
  "I am not a witch."
  
  "No, you're not, and you won't be one. But honestly, we need to train you. And yes, by 'we', I mean the Suicide Squad as a whole. As it is, you're dead meat against an Immortal Sorceress."
  
  Ethan coughed.
  
  "Yes, my treacherous lieutenant?"
  
  "We were just wondering..."
  
  "The Golden Fleece can't bring back someone from death in mere seconds, Ethan."
  
  In fact, it was going to need an awful lot of time, and well, Perseus was impatient by nature.
  
  No Wish though, he had taken enough damage from it during this Great Quest.
  
  Instead, slowly, he passively used his Rule to channel magic towards the Pine Tree, providing more power to the already formidable abilities of healing the Golden Fleece was imbued with.
  
  It worked.
  
  The Pine Tree began to separate itself from the human body; in what was an amusing anecdote, the tree was going to be healthier and larger when the whole process was over.
  
  More magic poured all around them, reinforcing the defences of the colony as a whole.
  
  It still took over one hour.
  
  Perseus waited in deep silence, uncaring that some people in the crowd left returned to the city. It was their loss.
  
  Slowly, the divine transformation was altered, with wood reverting to human flesh, and the same happened to man-made clothes.
  
  Annabeth's friend had had an interesting style, to be sure.
  
  "It was her 'Goth-phase'." The daughter of Annabeth said defensively.
  
  "Everyone has his or her favourite style," the son of Poseidon replied magnanimously. "Personally-"
  
  "Yes, yes we all know of your horrible fondness for everything orange and other outrageous and eye-clashing clothes."
  
  "How is it horrible?"
  
  Still, behind the joke, Perseus noted that it was a clearly big hint. Black clothes, and as the tree freed the reason for its existence, he noted that the hair had no doubt been dyed black as well.
  
  Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe not.
  
  Black hair. Black T-shirt. Black jeans. Black leather jacket. It wouldn't even have surprised Perseus if in the next seconds the tree had spat out a large black motorbike.
  
  "She is going to need Nectar and Ambrosia."
  
  "The Golden Fleece-"
  
  "It is doing its job, but there is such a thing as compensating for years in a near-dead state."
  
  He felt it when the process was complete.
  
  It was like a sensation of cold flames surging out of the valley where they were all assembled.
  
  Her eyes opened.
  
  For all that he had seen them before on the son of Jupiter, the leader of the Suicide Squad was still half-surprised by the intensity of these blue, electric gaze.
  
  A breath later, and there was a powerful scream.
  
  It didn't last long, but there was raw power behind it.
  
  Many Legacies and other spectators were forced to their knees by the light shockwave.
  
  Well, that answered a few questions about 'coincidences', all right.
  
  "Thalia! Thalia, it's me, Annabeth! You're fine! You're safe!"
  
  Nectar was poured in her throat.
  
  "Annabeth? What? I remember...dying..."
  
  Perseus could see it. The confusion. The fumbled memories. The same realisation he'd arrived to years ago on a very dark day.
  
  He waited silently, his red and his green eye watching the dangerous daughter of the Master of Olympus.
  
  Inevitably as Annabeth helped her female friend stand on her legs, with Reyna helping her, the blue electric eyes fell upon him.
  
  "I know you."
  
  "We are all of us free, or we are none of us free. Glory to Bellerophon, Holiest of the Free Cities, Peerless Jewel of Freedom!"
  
  For many Demigods, this would just be another of his crazy proclamations.
  
  It would just be the divagations he had made popular thorough New Byzantium.
  
  But he could see instantly for the girl who had been given the first name of Thalia, it was more than that.
  
  "Bellerophon? Hierarch? No, you are not...I remember that grin. I know that grin!"
  
  The former Tyrant of Helike cackled.
  
  "Are you the one who offered me a pure-bred Liessan charger?"
  
  There was a loud groan.
  
  "I offered you a goat, Tyrant!"
  
  Yes, it was her.
  
  "Is this Hell?" the black-haired Demigoddess looked around, clearly being overwhelmed by two lives assaulting her at the very same time.
  
  "Debatable, I think, for Triumphant is here."
  
  Perseus bent the knee theatrically. Amusingly, many people followed suit.
  
  "All Hail Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus...she who was once known as Catherine Foundling. Welcome back, Countess of Marchford, Sovereign of Moonless Nights, Queen of the Hunt, First under the Night, Arch-Heretic of the East!"
  
  "You are enjoying reciting a few of my old titles, don't you?"
  
  The blue eyes glared at him.
  
  "I don't know what you mean, my secret ally."
  
  There was a groan of frustration. It was a very significant and sincere groan, to be honest.
  
  "Yes, this is Hell. Next time, you're sure, you're going to tell me everything is proceeding as part of your plan?"
  
  The Demigod who had once been named Kairos Theodosian laughed until his lungs couldn't handle it anymore.
  
  "Welcome back, Black Queen. I missed you."
  
  Author's note:
  
  Return of the Queen: accomplished.
  
  This is where the Second Great Quest and Arc 2 of this story end.
  
  Perseus Jackson and the Sea of Monsters is officially over.
  
  If you think, things are going to get calmer and the craziness levels will abate, however...you are completely wrong.
  
  You know all the jokes of a Dread Empress, a Tyrant, and a Queen entering the same Temple? Well, they might not be that exaggerated...or jokes at all.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Heroic Foundation
  DRAMATIS PERSONAE AS OF THE END OF THE SECOND GREAT QUEST
  
  OF THE MORTALS AND IMMORTALS WHO PLAYED A ROLE IN THE FIRST TWO GREAT QUESTS:
  
  THE SUICIDE SQUAD:
  
  Those who returned to New Byzantium:
  
  Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, commanding officer of the Suicide Squad, the Tyrant Reborn, Drakon Slayer, and Bringer of Eternal Friendship, Master of the Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom
  
  Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, one of two Perseus' girlfriends
  
  Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Hades, Triumphant Reborn, the Lightning Thief, the Dark Sorceress
  
  Drew Tanaka, daughter of Aphrodite, thanks to a metal symbiote the Mistress of Moby Dick the Mecha-Whale, Champion of Persephone
  
  Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis
  
  Luke Castellan, son of Hermes
  
  Dakota McDonald, son of Bacchus, has an amorous liaison with two daughters of Bellona
  
  Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, daughter of Bellona, youngest of the Ramirez-Arellano sisters, and Dakota's first girlfriend
  
  Hylla Ramirez-Arellano, daughter of Bellona, oldest of the Ramirez-Arellano sisters, Dakota's second girlfriend, and potential future Queen of the Amazons
  
  Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, she who walks the Path of the Varangian
  
  Miranda Gardiner, daughter of Demeter, once Possessed by a Sand Drakon, now Champion of Calypso
  
  Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus, the Pyrokinesist-Engineer, he who had his heart replaced by the Heart of the Forge
  
  Hera, sometimes known as Antigone Barbara, former Queen of the Gods, now the First Great Claimant to the Throne of Seasons
  
  Asterius the Minotaur, Perseus' oldest lieutenant, son of Pasiphaë
  
  Rico Kowalski, once a Legionnaire, now a Saboteur Penguin loving explosives
  
  Julian Skipper, once a Legionnaire, now an Attack Emperor Penguin with a strong inclination for violence
  
  Richard Grant, son of Hercules
  
  Jade, former Huntress, now Champion of Khione
  
  Kimiko, former Huntress, Legacy of Harmonia, now holder of the Ring of Sloth
  
  Elvis Knight, Centurion Legionnaire
  
  Those who returned but want nothing to do anymore with the Suicide Squad:
  
  Jake Mason, son of Hephaestus
  
  Michael Yew, son of Apollo, transformed into the Blue Hare
  
  Those who departed and may return in time:
  
  Lou Ellen Blackstone, daughter of Hecate, Sorceress, one of two Perseus' girlfriends
  
  Anne Bonny, daughter of Demeter, Pirate Queen, Captain of the Bombardment Second Chance
  
  Those who fell in glorious battle or in odious betrayal:
  
  Scipio Varus, son of Janus, once appeared as a pink crocodile
  
  Judith, former Huntress and Jade's friend, now a servant of the Goddess Khione in death
  
  Kalinda and Eudoxia, Huntresses of Artemis
  
  Phoebe, daughter of Eris, Huntress, Lieutenant of Artemis
  
  Nick Coleman, son of Quirinus
  
  Fergus Cook, son of Liber, was transformed into a golden penguin, and unfortunately for him, died as one
  
  Michael Kahale, son of Venus, Centurion
  
  Eustace Bragg, Jeremy Clark, Helmut Veers, Scott, Irvin, Craig, Jared, Harper, Chuck, Jim plus hundreds of mutineer Legionnaires from the Twelfth Legio, and over nine hundred pirates
  
  Spartacus, son of Nemesis, legendary gladiator
  
  The One who was accepted back among the Huntresses:
  
  Zoë Nightshade, daughter of Atlas, First Lieutenant of Artemis
  
  Those who were cast out by the Huntress and are now trying to find their way home:
  
  Ellen, daughter of Eunomia, former Huntress
  
  Jenna, Legacy of Tyche, former Huntress
  
  The One who betrayed (and got away with it, for now):
  
  Nocturna, once known as Bella Medina, daughter of Scotus
  
  The One who departed and won't come back:
  
  Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon, former Huntress, now Prime Contractor of Pontus
  
  The One who went missing but no one cares:
  
  Colonel 'Thunderbolt' Ross, son of Deimos, transformed into a pink kitten, nicknamed Ernst Stavro Blofeld by Perseus, went missing during the Labours of the Adjudicator Challenge
  
  The One who returned but was on the receiving end of desertion accusations for his sins:
  
  Octavian McArthur, Legacy of Apollo, was almost permanently turned into a gold statue by the dreaded Midas' Curse
  
  Unofficial members:
  
  Nico di Angelo, son of Hades
  
  "Zoë Nightshade", loyal Hellhound
  
  Tyson, Cyclops and son of Poseidon, Chief Builder of the Inevitable Doom Super-Mega-Yacht
  
  Tribune Erica Keller, daughter of Sol, Legate of the Third Legio
  
  Captain Marko Ramius, former citizen of the Soviet Union, ex-commanding officer of the Typhoon-class submarine Red October
  
  Medusa, Euryale, Stheno; daughters of Athena, the Gorgon Sisters have been freed from their curses, but are now going to be severely punished for their crimes
  
  The Telekhines, sea demons under the Honourable Rule of Don Lino of the Family, with his sons Frankie and Lenny learning the trade
  
  NOTABLE CHARACTERS OF NEW BYZANTIUM AND NEW CONSTANTINOPLE:
  
  Demigods and other beings:
  
  Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus, Luke and Annabeth's first friend, the Black Queen Reborn
  
  Chiron, son of Kronos, Centaur, the Trainer of Heroes, advisor to the Olympians
  
  Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, younger brother of Thalia, Legionnaire
  
  Frank Zhang, son of Mars, Legionnaire
  
  Legate Gabriele Rossi, son of Fortuna, commanding officer of the Third Legio
  
  THE OLYMPIANS:
  
  The New Council of Olympus:
  
  Zeus (Roman form: Jupiter), King of the Gods, Master of Olympus, Lord of Lightning, husband of Nike
  
  Nike (Roman form: Victoria), Queen of the Gods, Lady of Victory, wife of Zeus
  
  Poseidon (Roman form: Neptune), Lord of the Seas, brother of Zeus
  
  Demeter (Roman form: Ceres), Lady of Agriculture, Harvests, and Fertility, sister of Zeus
  
  Apollo (Roman form: Apollo), God of the Sun, Music, and Healing, twin of Artemis, son of Zeus
  
  Artemis (Roman form: Diana), Goddess of the Moon, the Hunt, and Virginity, twin of Apollo, daughter of Zeus
  
  Athena (Roman form: Minerva), Goddess of Wisdom, Strategy, War, and Protector of Heroes, daughter of Zeus
  
  Hephaestus (Roman form: Vulcan), God of the Forges, Smiths, Fire, and Technology, son of Zeus, married to Aphrodite
  
  Aphrodite (Roman form: Venus), Goddess of Love, Lust, and Desire, wife of Hephaestus
  
  Hermes (Roman form: Mercury), God of Speed, Celerity, Trade and Thieves, son of Zeus
  
  Dionysus (Roman form: Bacchus), God of Wine, Madness, and Leopards, son of Zeus, once a Demigod
  
  Alcides/Heracles (Roman form: Hercules), God of Strength and Valour, son of Zeus, once a Demigod
  
  Other Olympians:
  
  Hestia (Roman form: Vesta), Goddess of Home, Family, Hearth, and the Eternal Flame
  
  Ariadne, Goddess of Exits, Safe Paths, and Happy Endings, wife of Dionysus
  
  Eris (Roman form: Discordia), Goddess of Discord, Chaos, and Strife
  
  Nemesis (Roman form: Invidia), Goddess of Mortal Vengeance
  
  Hecate (Roman form: Trivia), Titaness of Magic
  
  Hebe (Roman form: Juventas), Goddess of Youth
  
  Tyche (Roman form: Fortuna), Goddess of Luck and Fortune
  
  Iris (Roman form: Arcus), Goddess of the Rainbows and Messenger of Olympus
  
  Janus, Roman God of Choices, Doorways, Beginnings, and Endings
  
  Bellona, Roman Goddess of War
  
  The Throne-less Olympian:
  
  Ares (Roman name: Mars), God of War, Massacre and Bloodbaths, now punished by the Olympians, and ordered to guard the Gate of Delphi
  
  The Dead God:
  
  Pan, God of the Wild and Nature, Protector of Shepherds and Flocks, Lord of the Satyrs, his Throne is currently held by Dionysus
  
  THE COURT OF ATLANTIS:
  
  The Royal Family:
  
  Poseidon (Roman form: Neptune), Lord of the Seas, the Earthshaker, the Master of Atlantis, the Holder of the Trident, husband of Amphitrite
  
  Amphitrite (Roman form: Salacia), Goddess of the Seas, Queen of Atlantis, wife of Poseidon
  
  Aspen/Charybdis, former Heiress of Atlantis, daughter of Poseidon, adopted by Amphitrite, now returned as a Demigoddess
  
  Triton, current Heir of Atlantis, son of Poseidon, Messenger and Herald of the Seas, Patron of Sailors
  
  Rhode, Goddess of the Telekhines, the Beauty of the Seas, and Protector of the Island of Rhode, as well as the Forge of All Perils, daughter of Poseidon
  
  Kymopoleia, Goddess of Violent Sea Storms, Maritime Disasters, and Aquatic Catastrophes, daughter of Poseidon
  
  Antaeus, son of Poseidon, General of Charybdis, Lord of the Arenas dedicated to Poseidon, former Second Referee of the Adjudicator Games
  
  THE COURT OF CHTONIA:
  
  The Rulers of the Underworld:
  
  Hades (Roman form: Pluto), the King of Hell, the Rich One, the Holder of the Helm of Darkness, husband to Persephone, Khione, and Calypso; eldest brother of Zeus
  
  Persephone (Roman form: Proserpina), First Queen of Hell, adopted by Gaea, Goddess of Lava, Gemstones, and the Fiery Hell, married Hades first
  
  Khione, Second Queen of Hell, Goddess of Winter, Snow, Frost, Cold and Ice Drakons, married Hades in second
  
  Calypso, Third Queen of Hell, former Titaness of Drakons, adopted by Nyx, now Titaness of Night Hydras and Black Sands, married Hades in third
  
  Other Immortals of the Underworld:
  
  Styx, Goddess of Hatred and Hell Pacts, Ruler of the Great Sea bearing her name
  
  Hypnos (Roman form: Somnus), God of Sleep, Sleepy Administrator of Hades
  
  Employees of the Lord of Hell:
  
  Megaera, Alecto, and Tisiphone, the Erinyes, also known as the Furies or the 'Kindly Ones'
  
  Achilles, near-invincible hero, legend of the Trojan War
  
  Hector, former Prince of Troy
  
  Cerberus, three-headed very good boy...ahem, Hellhound
  
  THE IMMORTAL SORCERESSES:
  
  Daughters of Hecate and Mistresses of Magic:
  
  Pasiphaë, former Queen of Crete, now the Goddess of the Labyrinth
  
  Circe, owner of C.C's Spa and Resort located in the Sea of Monsters, Goddess of Illusions and Transformations
  
  Medea, former Princess of Colchis, former Argonaut, now transformed into the 'Centaur Queen' after the end of the Adjudicator Games
  
  THE TRIUMVIRATE:
  
  The Godly Claimants:
  
  Neo Helios, better known as Caligula, claimant to the Throne of the Sun
  
  Neo Selene, better known as Julia Drusilla, sister of Caligula, claimant to the Throne of the Moon
  
  Neo Eos, better known as Piper McLean, daughter of Venus, claimant to the Throne of Dawn and Alpha of the Nemean Lionesses
  
  Neo Romulus, better known as Mark Antony/Marcus Antonius, claimant to the Throne of War, husband of Isis
  
  Isis, once known as Cleopatra, Queen of Luxor, Goddess of Water Love, the Nile, and Egypt, wife of Marcus Antonius
  
  Neo Mithras, better known as Julian the Philosopher/Apostate
  
  Neo Cybele, better known Valeria Messalina, daughter of Venus
  
  The Warriors serving them:
  
  Lucius Vorenus, Praetor of the Triumvirate
  
  Titus Pullo, Legionnaire of the Triumvirate
  
  Panther Kowalski, Nemean Lioness and nineteen other Lionesses, all sworn to Piper McLean
  
  The Traitor:
  
  Incitatus, talking horse and former lieutenant of Caligula, was killed twice so far, desired to usher a reign of Horses per and by the Horses
  
  THE PIRATES:
  
  Those who survived the madness of Perseus Jackson in the Sea of Monsters:
  
  Edward 'Blackbeard' Teach, son of Ares, Captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge, was vanquished by Hercules and he is now imprisoned in a secret prison under Alcatraz
  
  Lafitte, lieutenant of Blackbeard, imprisoned in a secret prison under Alcatraz like his Captain
  
  The Sparrow, a lucky and/or incompetent pirate who managed to survive the Clash of Titans and take command of the Black Pearl
  
  THE COALITION:
  
  The Lords who want to burn the Old Order:
  
  Prometheus, Titan of Crafty Counsel, Chairman of the Coalition
  
  Python, the Sire of the Drakons, the Great Serpent, the Nemesis to Apollo, Oracle of the Coalition
  
  Midas, the Man who turned everything into gold, infamous for his donkey ears, Treasurer of the Coalition
  
  The Tools of the Coalition:
  
  Lityerses, the Reaper, son of Midas and Demeter
  
  Hana, 'Agent H', daughter of Midas and Eris
  
  Nocturna, servant of Python
  
  Otrera, former Bride of Ares, First Queen of the Amazons, now transformed into a Serpopard, and enslaved to the will of Prometheus
  
  The One who is being tortured in Hell for his failures:
  
  Commodus, former Emperor, tried to become Neo Hercules, but ended up as a werewolf, and was killed twice
  
  THE GIGANTES:
  
  Fallen Bane:
  
  Alcyoneus, self-proclaimed Bane of Hades, believed himself destined to usurp the King of Hell and rule over the Underworld failed and was utterly annihilated by his mother Gaea
  
  THE TITANS:
  
  The 'Neutrals':
  
  Oceanus, Titan of the Oceans, husband of Tethys
  
  Tethys, Titaness of Water and the Seas, Mistress of the Coral Palace and Black Dolphins, wife of Oceanus, mother of Calypso, adoptive mother of Hera
  
  Themis, Titaness of Divine Justice
  
  The Missing:
  
  Kronos, once King of the Titans and Ruler of the Skies, former Master of Mount Othrys and its Citadel, was overthrown by Zeus and all his other children, was carved apart and precipitated into the Pit of Tartarus
  
  The Prisoner:
  
  Atlas, Titan of Endurance, former Ruler of the Underworld, former General of Othrys, father of Calypso, now is sentenced to carry the Sky Prison for eternity
  
  THE PRIMORDIALS:
  
  The Dead:
  
  Ouranos/Uranus, Primordial of the Sky, he was overthrown and killed by Kronos, his son
  
  The Sleeping Ones:
  
  Gaea/Gaia, Primordial of Earth
  
  Pontus, Primordial of Water and the Abyss, the Dreaming One, the Master of the Forbidden City
  
  The Ones who are Watching:
  
  Nyx, Primordial of Night
  
  Ananke, Primordial of Fate and Inevitability
  
  Tartarus, Primordial of the Pit
  
  Chapter 33
  
  Heroic Foundation
  
  It always was supposed to be a game.
  
  And yes, by this, I mean the clearer definition of it: a physical or mental activity whose essential goal is the pleasure you take in participating in it.
  
  It was incredibly easy.
  
  The other Pantheons were gone, and as long as the Treaty was enforced, they wouldn't come back.
  
  The future was bright.
  
  The existential crises were gone.
  
  Of course, there were a few dark clouds on the horizon.
  
  There was a Great Prophecy.
  
  Fortunately, this one could be delayed as long as the Three Kings stayed true to their oaths.
  
  Otherwise, the perils were few and far between. Most hostile Titans and Gigantes were imprisoned, or failing that, spitting insults while powerless in the depths of the Great Pit.
  
  They could have chosen to return to the Age of Wonders.
  
  But it was far easier to resume the games.
  
  The system wasn't broken, after all.
  
  And the alternative was dangerous. If the Mist changed, if mortals once more saw the monsters hiding close to them, the world would utterly change as well. Plenty of their children would build their legends thanks to their help, obviously. But there were plenty of risks new immortals would rise to try to usurp the Pantheon too.
  
  One could be wrong about the motives.
  
  Ultimately, one truth remained.
  
  There were to be no new foundations for this Age.
  
  The old ones were declared to be sufficient.
  
  Until the foundations cracked.
  
  Suddenly, it was no longer a game.
  
  Or would it be more accurate to say that now, everyone had to play, whether the Gods wanted it or not?
  
  By the definition of it, the activity was supposed to represent one or several characteristics: gratuity, futility, or ease.
  
  None of them applied anymore, unless you thought that losing your life in a fraction of a second was to be the new awesome joke of the year.
  
  I warned you.
  
  It isn't a game anymore.
  
  The old foundations are in disrepair. The Oracles are silent.
  
  And I have no idea if something can be repaired before the true storm unleashes its fury against us.
  
  2 Mars 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  Perseus was the first to wake up shortly after dawn.
  
  As he was aware playing some music at this hour would likely result in him being murdered on the spot, the Tyrant left the bedroom as discreetly as possible once he had picked a grey T-Shirt and shorts to go over his underwear.
  
  It wasn't that difficult; Annabeth was truly lost in the realm of Morpheus right now.
  
  Normally, it shouldn't have been a good idea to wear such clothes in early March, but the Palace had an expensive system of localised weather control somewhere, and as a result, it felt far more like late spring at the moment.
  
  Once he reached the large balcony built for the North Wing, however, a heroic protester would have told him he was mad to proclaim spring was here.
  
  Barely a kilometre away, forming an insurmountable rampart, was a stupendously high chain of mountains completely covered in snow and ice.
  
  Perseus had often wondered how the Olympians would deal with Khione wanting to have a winter sports' resort and some representation of her own at New Byzantium.
  
  Well, now he had his answer.
  
  The Second Queen of Hell had gained a mini-realm of about ten kilometres from the coast to the western border, and with a 'depth' of about three kilometres from south to north.
  
  And already, there was a frozen lake for ice skating. Hades' wife had really her priorities in order.
  
  "Lord Perseus? Do you wish for me to bring you your breakfast?"
  
  It was a bit embarrassing that he had been so busy with watching the landscape that he hadn't seen the Naiad arriving.
  
  "What? Oh, no, thanks. I'm going to wait for Annabeth waking up." The black-haired Demigod licked his lips...and they happened to be very dry. Oh, and making several praises to Dionysus had not helped things at all last night. He was definitely feeling thirsty. "On second thought, I could do with a jug of orange juice, please. We have that, right?"
  
  "We have an array of two thousand different drinks ready to serve, Lord Perseus," the Water Nymph giggled before making her escape.
  
  Perseus shook his head once, before opening one of his suitcases and grabbing a pile of folders.
  
  Partying was amusing for a while, but it was over for now, and in the last days, the Telekhines had sent him spy reports he hadn't been able to read. The festivities and official celebrations made to 'honour' their survival and the success of the Second Great Quest had made sure of that.
  
  Most of the documentation was easily done. There were two letters to send to Don Lino, but it was conversation-level stuff, hardly something critical.
  
  The red folder, however-
  
  "What by the undead hordes of the Dead King were you plotting, Commodus?"
  
  He wasn't going to ask how certain spies had acquired the manifesto of certain goods which had sailed to 'Commodianopolis', or whatever name there was for 'Coliseum Island'.
  
  Nevertheless, the information obtained raised more answers than questions.
  
  "Some of this doesn't make any sense, unless they wanted to use it as a Monster Breeding Pit before abandoning the idea before it resulted in anything worth the gold expended on such a project..."
  
  If he was a bit more arrogant than he was, it would have been tempting to say it was the outcome of the First Great Quest which had convinced Python and Prometheus to stop that scheme, and go for an alternative.
  
  The problem...well, the problem was that the dates didn't work.
  
  The rhythm of funds and food had, if the paperwork in his hands was correct, already been cut in half before he set a foot anywhere New Byzantium.
  
  There had been months before that famous time-mark, in fact.
  
  Python was a far-sighted Oracle, but Perseus had a lot of doubts the Sire of the Drakons could change his plans so long in advance to screw with him.
  
  No, something else must have spooked the giant snake. But what?
  
  "You shouldn't scowl so much."
  
  Perseus blinked, as Annabeth made her entry on the balcony.
  
  Then he gaped.
  
  The blonde Demigoddess stretched languidly, making sure the sunlight caught the vibrant orange of her halter-top. And yes, the plunging neckline accentuated her splendid figure. Moreover, while the front design drew attention to her chest a lot, the cycling-style shorts hugged her hips perfectly, in addition to covering them in this perfect orange shade. That they extended to mid-thigh, and that way emphasized the toned and athletic legs absolutely deserved to be mentioned.
  
  Yes, her grey eyes were sparkling with mischief.
  
  And yes, Perseus blushed.
  
  "So you can react like a normal teenager, Perseus."
  
  "You're an evil tease, Annabeth."
  
  One thing was sure, his first life hadn't prepared him for...for any of this, really.
  
  The Tyrant who had once been called Kairos Theodosian really didn't know if avoiding the love stories like they were contagious diseases had been his greatest strength or his greatest error. Bah, he would leave it for the historians to debate it for years to come.
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  "There was an entire hall of clothes next to our bedroom, so yes, I'm sure. But I very much appreciate the effort to embrace my favourite colour. I am going to order our breakfast. I-"
  
  The Naiad was already there to hear their requests, of course. And then the Nymph fluidly moved with all celerity to the kitchens.
  
  "You will have to remove your papers from the table, I think." The daughter of Athena smirked.
  
  It was true that in the...had it been one hour already? Yes, in that hour, he had been more focused on searching for enough data for a complete analysis, not filing anything in neat categories.
  
  "I was trying to find out what Commodus was scheming on this island far-away in a mostly isolated part of the Sea of Monsters." The heterochromatic-eyed young Demigod spoke as he went on to place pack the papers in their folders. "I received spies' reports, and I wanted to say if they brought new light upon the issue."
  
  "And you did find answers?"
  
  "Not really," he admitted. "I mean, I am pretty sure now that two Labours we didn't have to face were about a three-headed Sea Worm and some kind of prehistoric crocodile-"
  
  "Hold on for a second," Annabeth ordered, her smirk disappearing to be replaced by shock. "The Narcissist crossbred a giant worm with Cerberus?"
  
  "Not exactly, I think he used a lot of Hellhound essence and some tiny amount of Cerberus hair for his experiments. Which resulted ultimately in a Giant Worm of colossal size. With three heads."
  
  "For the love of...why didn't he use that beast during his parody of gladiator games?"
  
  For this one, the answer was rather evidence itself once you analysed the problem correctly.
  
  "Because it is a Sea Worm, and its body is horribly vulnerable against someone capable of using offensive Hydrokinesis, Annabeth. Sending it against me would have resulted in a humiliating and one-sided beating."
  
  "Oh," Annabeth took a pose which indeed resulted in her presenting her body in a more seductive and lethal presentation, though Perseus was going to admit he wasn't unbiased. "Yes, I suppose it explains why he was so eager to kill you in the first Trials, or to put you out of commission as a primary goal. I don't understand the 'why' of the prehistoric crocodile, on the other hand."
  
  "To be honest, I don't understand it either." The leader of the Suicide Squad shrugged. "The clues tend to indicate it was crossbred with essence of the Erymanthian Boar, but I really don't see the point. The skin of these beasts is already unbelievably tough, and it's not like the easiest way to deal with them is to pierce their scales. I suppose you can add tusks to a crocodile, but what's the point?"
  
  It was idiotic. So either it meant it was - the Coalition could screw up like everyone, he supposed. Or it meant they were missing something very important.
  
  But the transfer of food and other resources weren't going to help answer that problem.
  
  "Anyway, that can definitely wait for now. Our breakfast is coming."
  
  "Yes," Annabeth stretched again, before seating on a chair that by a mysterious coincidence, ensured the orange attire she wore shone like she had enchanted it magically. "Let's speak of things far more important, Perseus."
  
  Venus must have a lot of laughs at his predicament, but it was a bit too late to have regrets. For better or for worse, his life was in the hands of several Demigoddesses now...
  
  2 Mars 2007, the Grand Plaza, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  The moment Medusa had seen the Enclave being built, she had recognised the will of Poseidon behind it.
  
  The Greek houses in a clash of different colours on the slopes of a hill had been a very big hint, though many Gods fancied them too, so it wasn't a sure thing.
  
  The fountains, though...no one but Poseidon and a few other immortals built as many as fountains in such a reduced area. And many of these fountains were colossal. Some part of her understood it was for Naiads to be there as servants and spying eyes. The other part of her rolled its eyes at the grandstanding.
  
  It was just the beginning. The immense aqueduct was three times bigger than a city of ten thousand would need, but Poseidon had ordered it to be built nonetheless. Between the massive arches and the sea-green paint, you couldn't miss it unless you were blind.
  
  All of these separate elements may have been chosen by an Olympian or another at some point.
  
  But only Poseidon, she knew, would have chosen it together. Moreover, there was something infuriating added: the utter lack of symmetry and the ridiculous positioning of every monument and infrastructure piece relative to the rest.
  
  Her once-lover didn't know how to build cities. That had been true in her youth, and Medusa knew for sure that the millennia hadn't changed that.
  
  Everyone knew it was Amphitrite who had overseen the construction of the city that would eventually become Atlantis.
  
  Yes, the Athenians had chosen her mother over Poseidon because unlike him, she knew how to build something durable and a settlement that would last across time.
  
  Whereas Poseidon...there was a good reason most cities of Achaia had done their best to avoid the 'honour'. You could close your eyes upon the minor problem of having the God of Earthquakes as patron, but you assuredly couldn't ignore the fact Poseidon didn't know how to build a functional city.
  
  "Someone must have intervened a few hours after the start," Stheno commented amused by her side, evidently sharing her thoughts. "The final result looks chaotic, but it is functional."
  
  "Certainly his wife...or one of his daughters." Euryale agreed a heartbeat later.
  
  "Yes." What was else there to say? "Disorder and insult to the laws of symmetry aside, this is still a royal reward. That huge thing there is clearly a variant of a 'Roman Bath'. The Palace is extravagant, and dominates everything. I also see over two hundred fountains."
  
  "The arena-shaped building behind the Baths must be a Gymnasium." Her youngest sister noted.
  
  The three Gorgon sisters looked at each other. They had acknowledged that the son of the Seas was in great favour at Atlantis, but that had been more rumours than fact.
  
  Here and now, however, the evidence was slammed in their faces with no subtlety at all.
  
  "We're certainly going to have to be careful." She winced. "We have little room of manoeuvre to begin with-"
  
  "And I'm sure certain female deities will love to see us squirm for many, many years," Euryale finished.
  
  "That was always going to be a given, no?" Stheno said philosophically. "Look alert, Jackson is on his way."
  
  Everyone went silent, and yes, it included the two horrible pests which also happened to be masquerading as penguins at the moment.
  
  Somehow, they seemed to have grown bigger in the last days.
  
  At the risk of saying the obvious, Medusa was extremely wary of them, and not just because the smaller insane penguin was playing with fireworks every time she looked at him.
  
  By contrast, the former Huntress remained alone, and almost...asleep. Her eyes were wide open, but she regularly yawned, as if standing and remaining alert represented a massive challenge.
  
  "Everyone I sent invitations to is here, I see! Excellent! Excellent!"
  
  Medusa had lived the life of a monster for more than two millennia.
  
  There were grins that were more threatening than a battle-cry, and this one was among them.
  
  "We stand ready to make things go Kaboom, Boss!" the penguin proclaimed joyously.
  
  "Don't touch the lighter and throw away the explosives Rico," the son of the Earthshaker ordered with a sigh. "I just received this Enclave from my divine father, I would prefer if it could stay intact for a long, long time. There's an arsonist terrain outside the walls. It will be there you will test your demolition abilities, not where any blast will damage the fountains and the walls."
  
  The pest must have understood it was no joking matter, for the dangerous tools disappeared incredibly fast.
  
  "Why are we here, Jackson?" the exhausted-looking ex-Huntress asked.
  
  "You are all of here because I have decided that in my legendary benevolence, I have decided Xenia is going to be a value defended by the Atlantean Enclave I have currently the leadership of."
  
  Medusa blinked. Of all things, she had not expected to listen to that. Not from a son of Poseidon, not this morning, and not in these circumstances?
  
  "You know what the concept of hospitality in the time of the Cities of Achaia meant? I am surprised."
  
  "Well..." Perseus Jackson passed a hand in his black hair, something that could have been embarrassment if it was applied to any other Demigod. "Not exactly. Annabeth explained to me the concept."
  
  As if the name had been a magical spell, one of their half-sisters was there on the right of Perseus Jackson.
  
  Immediately, Medusa was sure of two things. This one, their mother had sired the old-fashioned way. They hadn't been a brain-pregnancy or one of the other mental artifices Wisdom often used when she found an interesting male or female partner.
  
  Second point, that daughter of Athena had had sex with the son of Poseidon. Plenty of people would have missed the signs, but not her.
  
  And yes, she was very aware Euryale and Stheno were giggling inside. It was the same story all over...wise and talented girls were falling for the 'bad boy' of the era. Damn their hormones and the forbidden fruit, and all of that.
  
  "Anyway! Of all the Suicide Squad and Demigods I am associated with, you are the only ones to not have received your own mansions or exalted housing quarters. Xenia authorises me to remedy that."
  
  "This is generous of you."
  
  "The Enclave is going to feel pretty dead if it doesn't have inhabitants." The dangerous Demigod shrugged the matter as it wasn't a big deal. "There will be limits and requirements, evidently."
  
  "We have a limit of explosions?" the penguin looked as if he was about to cry.
  
  "Among other things," the young Demigod opened his eye, revealing the malevolent crimson iris. "First, Rico and Skipper are not allowed to choose their own home. The Naiads have only built a single penguin-friendly home, so you will have to take what is offered. For the others...I leave it to you if you want to live alone or together."
  
  "We will take separate houses," Euryale said in their names, "as long as it doesn't make the long-term prices rise as a consequence."
  
  "It won't," the grin returned, and damn, the boy really looked like a young copy of Poseidon as he had presented himself an eternity ago. Athena had known, of course, and sent her to the Camp anyway. "The fee is one Drachma per year and per person."
  
  "Just like that?" the former Huntress was suddenly wide awake.
  
  "Just like that," the Demigod who had survived two great Quests dismissed the matter as it was beneath him. "I don't pay for the upkeep of this Enclave in the first place, I am not going to shift an nonexistent burden on guests!"
  
  "There will be certain duties placed on all of you," their blonde half-sister added with a huff. "We're still a military enclave, and we aren't living in a dump, thank you very much."
  
  If anything, that was actually reassuring.
  
  "I suppose that means inspections of the Barracks...I mean the houses, will still be a thing?"
  
  "They will. Along with mandatory military training. For the moment, the Sea Palace is a location you can't enter without authorisation coming from Perseus or myself," Annabeth Chase recited.
  
  "The Roman Baths?" the ex-Huntress yawned.
  
  "They're open to everyone as long as Perseus doesn't want to reserve a few hours for himself."
  
  The light in her eyes almost convinced Medusa to show her exasperation. Great, in addition to experimenting with his Hydrokinesis, someone was going to enjoy carnal activities there. Meagre consolation, but with all these Naiads, it would be cleaned in the aftermath.
  
  "Are there any other questions?"
  
  A large fin was raised.
  
  "Yes, Boss. Why did you place a statue of a Demigod on the Northern gate we used to enter the Enclave? It's your enclave, of course-"
  
  "This is not any statue, my penguin lieutenant! It is a statue of Léo Major!"
  
  The name meant...absolutely nothing to Medusa or her sisters. Minor consolation, it seemed to mean nothing to the penguins and the former follower of Artemis too.
  
  The red eye watched them...displeased.
  
  "Léo Major," Perseus Jackson enounced with an expression that was downright frightening. "He killed his first Laistrygonian Giant at ten. By the age of sixteen, he repelled an attack of four Hyperborean Giants by himself to defend a small hamlet. At eighteen, he was likely the most accomplished monster-hunter of Québec, and in all likelihood, of all Canada. Then he decided to enlist in the armed forces of his country, something which eventually led to his participation in World War Two. He was there when the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy. Since killing Germans was a waste of his time, between two missions he went to hunt the Hydras that some Nazi-allied fiends were trying to tame to use as terror weapons. It was during a fight with three of them at the same time that Léo Major lost one of his eyes and his back suffered severe injuries."
  
  Medusa wanted to say Perseus was joking. No one, no Demigod was that skilled or powerful.
  
  "One night the enemy killed his friend. Major decided to have some payback, and slaughtered a horde of about a thousand monsters by himself. Incidentally, the exploit is one he is most remembered for today by mortals, since the Netherlands town he was fighting in was therefore liberated by him and him alone. Nonetheless, Léo Major remained incredibly humble, and refused plenty of decorations along his career. He also enlisted back for the Korean War, where he was instrumental in repelling an attack of over ten thousand soldiers and four thousand monsters, with a depleted company under his command."
  
  Perseus Jackson looked at them with a roguish expression.
  
  "The question is not why I placed his statue guarding the northern entrance, my penguin lieutenant. The question is rather, why don't you know the name of this legend?"
  
  Euryale coughed in embarrassment.
  
  "Apologies, we were not...we were a bit far away from civilisation. May we know who among the Olympians sired this Demigod?"
  
  "Léo Major wasn't a Demigod. He was a clear-sighted mortal." The red eye stared, filled with something that she couldn't decipher. "A good reminder that when a boy or a girl desires to achieve the impossible, he or she can. The wager of Creation is in our hands, and makes sure no one denies it. Dismissed."
  
  There was star-struck silence.
  
  And neither Medusa nor anyone else spoke for the next few hours.
  
  2 Mars 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  During his first life, he had twice wondered if in a world that wasn't denied advanced machines and powders by the Gnomes, paperwork would still be something critical and boring.
  
  It had never gone past musings, though.
  
  It was a painful irony that yes, he had gotten his answer beyond the grave.
  
  "Fortunately, it is a once-time affair," the former Tyrant of Helike rejoiced as he massaged his hand. "I certainly hope it is, by everything sacred under the waves. I think I would try to flee New Byzantium if every day was like that."
  
  "Surely you have to be used to that," Annabeth retorted with a complete lack of empathy. "You always repeat you were a ruler of great ambitions in your past life. That has to mean you pursued great reforms, and that implies a lot of paperwork to relay your orders."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad did admit he hadn't seen that one coming.
  
  He huffed.
  
  "While the logic holds under scrutiny, Annabeth, you missed an important point: I was not a great reformer. I wrote a few laws, mainly to ban vulgar language and alcohol."
  
  The two of which, unfortunately, hadn't gone far in their execution, given how much some of his servants cursed and drank the moment they believed he was no longer in sight.
  
  "You won many battles with your army. If you gave them the training you gave to some of us-"
  
  That conversation was taking a turn he really, really hadn't seen coming.
  
  "Annabeth, my army didn't have Demigods in its ranks." It didn't have any Named either. Tyrants were not exactly the most trusted of rulers, and this for a good thousand reasons. "And to be blunt? I inherited my army. I removed the heads of the Old Guard when I took the throne, and then I promoted a few ambitious officers in their place."
  
  "What?"
  
  Well, at least, it was clear that the daughter of Athena hadn't expected that either.
  
  Perseus Jackson shrugged.
  
  "The Royal Army of Helike was a potent force, with its heavily armoured infantry and the Cataphract heavy cavalry. I wasn't going to break something which worked so well."
  
  "I have difficulties believing that."
  
  "There is precedent in this world." The Drakon Slayer said thoughtfully. "Alexander of Macedon inherited an army from its father too. Of course, his was far more battle-experienced than mine. When I began my rule, Helike hadn't fought a serious war in many, many years."
  
  It had been fairly interesting, once he properly to investigate legendary campaigns of the Antiquity period, how arrogant and mentally instable certain 'not-Tyrants' had been despite not being 'Named'.
  
  "You're comparing yourself to Alexander the Great?" Annabeth was growing increasingly amused, he could feel it.
  
  "No, of course not. The man was a genius in the field of warfare, and a moron at everything else."
  
  Seriously, while the idea was humorous in certain stories, you didn't put a thief in charge of the Treasury. Your faithful troops had to be paid regularly, otherwise they didn't stay faithful, and you didn't remain a Tyrant for very long.
  
  "But enough of that. Now that the paperwork is done and my august possession of the Palace is confirmed-"
  
  A loud chiming came from the nearby fountain.
  
  A second later, a miniature rainbow began to coalesce, using the water as a medium.
  
  "I think I will have to correct the enchantments. I don't want to be woken up or contacted while I am distracted." But that was for the future. "I accept the Iris Communication. Please."
  
  The 'please' was unnecessary, of course, but politeness was the privilege of Kings and Tyrants, right?
  
  The water surged to create a rainbow-coloured something looking like a relay-mirror, and Perseus instantly recognised the cold majesty of Barrack Number One as the decoration of the background. The place was rather famous...or infamous, depending on how you saw it.
  
  Of course, that was mostly an afterthought. He had to focus on the blonde Demigoddess in an old-fashioned gold armchair.
  
  Blonde? Yes, it appeared that in that respect, he had not been wrong to suspect something fishy. The black shade had been dye, nothing more.
  
  "But if it isn't the legendary Black Queen, returned from the dead!" Perseus said cheerfully. "You look absolutely horrible, by the way."
  
  It was not a lie. Bianca and Nico di Angelo had extremely pale skin, as did Nocturna when she was once human, the 'benefits' of being sired by a Chthonian deity.
  
  But when you were sired by Zeus or another member of the Council, it was absolutely not normal.
  
  Unless you passed so close to death your soul began to fade, and your body reflected how much of a close shave it had been, that is.
  
  "I am not in the mood to tolerate your bad puns. Explain yourself, Tyrant!"
  
  The voice of command would have been a bit more impressive if she hadn't begun to cough violently after it, and her brother rushed to give her some medicine she swallowed with a glass of water.
  
  "I would be more than happy to if I knew what I had to explain." This one had the merit of being sincere. There were many subjects that could be discussed. "And I have many questions of my own. First, should I call you Catherine, Queen Catherine, or do you prefer Thalia Grace?"
  
  As both Bianca and himself had decided to embrace their new identities, the latter was more likely, but two instances was not a large precedent.
  
  "You can call me Thalia Grace," the blue eyes sparkled, and it wasn't a poor choice of words. "And stop deflecting."
  
  "Stop about what?"
  
  "You must have amnesia, Tyrant. The last time we saw each other, you almost destroyed a continent in your successful move which vaporised the Dead King and the better part of the realm of Keter."
  
  "I assuredly did no such thing," the former Tyrant denied honestly. "I did many blasphemous and terrific things in my life, but when I died, I assure you, the Dead King was the very painting of undeath...un-life...ah, hell, I can't think of a good joke right now."
  
  It was when he stared again at the eyes of one of the most formidable Villains of his generation that Perseus knew that she was deadly serious.
  
  "You lie."
  
  "I do not," the Speech had some strength, but compared to what Piper McLean or another child of Aphrodite gifted in its use could do, it was a weak attack. Catherine Foundling had her voice of command back, but had not yet recovered a fraction of her strength. "When I died, I was busy laughing at the Hierarch, my great democratic friend, judging the Choir of Judgement itself. I wished I could have experienced the full annoyance they felt to deal with him for an eternity."
  
  The son of Poseidon stopped smirking.
  
  "You were definitely present, and I did this great monologue to you, warning you about the dangers of the Dead King and more."
  
  "You are serious."
  
  Perseus was really beginning to have a very bad feeling about this entire affair. He had been prompt to rejoice, because the 'eternal friendship' and the 'pure-bred Liessan charger' had been recognised in the first seconds. But what if those had been insignificant points hiding the big trouble?
  
  "When we met each other in person for the first time," he began slowly, feeling that the answer wasn't going to be enjoyable, "the Archer was the muscle you brought into the town I had just finished conquering."
  
  "You're wrong. I was accompanied by my consort, Kilian."
  
  His first life had been a long time ago, but the memories were sufficiently clear to confirm that no, it hadn't been the case.
  
  "Red-haired, her magic turning it into a river of fire? Her Name was the Summer Sorceress? Ring a bell?"
  
  "Not a single one."
  
  There was a relief, at least, that they hadn't gone completely crazy, or that one or both set of memories had been tampered.
  
  "It seems that we both lived our first life on Calernia, friend. But while I met and spoke with one Queen Catherine Foundling, it appears you are not her."
  
  This was unexpected and was going to bring more complications, but from the point of view of someone interested in such weird events, it was incredibly fascinating.
  
  "I suppose that if the Multiverse theory was confirmed for this world, it stands to reason it was perfectly possible for it to apply to Creation in our first life too..."
  
  "What you are saying? I am-"
  
  "You are a Black Queen, yes. You're just not the one I was friend with...so to speak." This raised by the way new priorities. "That means I must try to secure a lasting treaty where we proclaim eternal friendship to each other, of course!"
  
  There was an extremely rude series of curses, and the Iris communication ended with a large splash in the fountain.
  
  "That could have gone better," Annabeth grimaced. "I am going to go see her."
  
  "By all means," he nodded. "She was your childhood friend, and with two lives worth of memories in her head, it's better for her to give her some good experiences to think about. I know it was not pleasant for me."
  
  "You never speak of it."
  
  "Tyrant or not, I don't readily admit my weaknesses, Annabeth. And when you nearly drowned in a well, the last thing you want is to discuss whether it is necessary or not to return your head under the water."
  
  3 March 2007, the Docks, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  Watching Jackson and his Cyclops half-brother hugging each other was one of the most visually traumatising scenes he'd ever seen since their return at New Byzantium.
  
  Granted, it was not a lot, given how little time had passed, but the fact Luke felt the need to make it a category told disturbing things about how screwed his life was.
  
  "One would almost think you were trying to break each other ribs'," the son of Hermes drily commented once 'Tyson' went to join his fellow workers into pushing the Inevitable Doom towards the brand-new dry dock which had been built next to the beach.
  
  "Nah, it was just a sample of super-friendly brotherhood, my heroic lieutenant," the mad Demigod replied with a large smirk.
  
  "Really."
  
  "Really! Besides, I had to reassure him he had my full confidence. It's not his fault that certain Gods have no sense of humour."
  
  Luke sighed.
  
  "I know I'm going to regret asking-"
  
  "I'm completely forbidden to allocate funds for the construction of a ballistic missile submarine or a flying aircraft carrier." There was not a pout on the visage of Perseus Jackson, but they weren't far from it.
  
  "For once, I'm going to agree completely with the Olympian Council here," and wasn't that a horrible moment? Some of the beings which had the least amount of common sense had just taken the correct decision.
  
  "How can I engage in the spice trade? Or any form of illegal trade, then?"
  
  "We are not going to engage in some schemes which will see weapons of mass destruction proliferate across the world," Luke said severely. "We already have enough problems as it is."
  
  "I honestly disagree, but my opinion was not listened to."
  
  The red eye looked at him like he was a rabbit about to be hunted.
  
  "How fares Thalia?"
  
  "Cursing your name with every hour," it was worth more than a chuckle or two, for sure. "She didn't like your plagiarism with the undead iguanas and some other stuff."
  
  "Only with the undead iguanas?"
  
  "Well, Annabeth and your humble lieutenant didn't have the opportunity to recount all the tales of the two Great Quests in detail. Give us some time."
  
  "I am surrounded by treachery!" the younger Demigod gasped, something that could have been impressive if you didn't know two-thirds of it was pure mockery.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Some people are really taking all the fun away from my surprises," the complaint was predictable, and Luke Castellan ignored it.
  
  This ensured Jackson shut up, and for a couple of minutes, they only watched in silence as the Cyclops' crew did maintenance and inspection work on the Super-Mega-Yacht.
  
  "I'm a bit surprised you didn't try to order a second ship immediately, given how big the Suicide Squad increased."
  
  "I thought about it," Perseus admitted, apparently truthfully. "And it could be done, I am not going to lie."
  
  "But?"
  
  "But, my heroic lieutenant, for a second Super-Mega-Yacht hiding plenty of conventional and unconventional weapons to be moderately useful, our adventures and misadventures have to happen somewhere on the oceans and seas of this world. Otherwise, a ship is rather...lacking."
  
  "That bad?"
  
  "The Inevitable Doom can transport a lot of Demigods and supplies with minimal warning, but of the Zones Mortalis, only one is entirely sea-based, and we just completed a Great Quest there. I think it is wildly optimistic to assume our enemies will choose to return there, or to mount a challenge on the ruins of Commodus' legacy."
  
  Okay, Luke couldn't go against that sort of cold-hard logic.
  
  "You have a few ideas."
  
  "I have," the black-haired Demigod vigorously confirmed. "To my great sorrow though, some of them represent contradictory objectives. And as fun as it would be to have one mobile headquarters for every possible scenario, I don't think I have enough Drachmas for that."
  
  Something that raised a few eyebrows, given how huge the cash rewards had been for the Suicide Squad as a whole. Everyone anticipated with bated breath the future share of the spoils in the coming days.
  
  "These are concerns for another day, of course. And I must go to buy ice cream, I have a sudden urge to devour something watermelon-tasting, maybe with some vanilla and mango."
  
  "Not so fast," Luke rolled his eyes, trying not to think about the taste of something like that. "I wanted to deliver you the papers. You know, the ciphered stuff we stole from the Lotus Casino."
  
  "Oh, that one...the professionals I found finally decided to earn their pay?"
  
  "Not everyone learns Ancient Greek like we Demigods do, Jackson."
  
  "I admit that statement has a core of truth," the son of the Earthshaker nodded, as he grabbed the pile Luke had just extracted from his extensible pouch. "Hmm...plenty of it sounds like good blackmail material."
  
  And wasn't that a frightening idea?
  
  "Plenty of the people are clients of the Lotus-Eaters," he warned.
  
  "That will make it all the more delicious to-"
  
  It wasn't often you saw the leader of the Suicide Squad stop whatever he was mockingly commenting upon and become serious quasi-instantly.
  
  "Oh, dear."
  
  "What it is?"
  
  "It seems the Lord of the Underworld reacted incredibly fast when he moved his children to Last Vegas. The funds for their upkeep were transferred within three days of their mother's murder."
  
  "Err...yes?" Luke didn't understand the problem.
  
  "How in the name of my three-headed friend could the Lord of Riches and the Dead know that his brother would respect the sanctity of a Lotus-Eater establishment for so long? Hells, why was his first reaction to send Bianca and Nico there so fast? It couldn't be premeditated; the King of the Gods' actions came out of the blue."
  
  Luke didn't like the sound of this.
  
  "He may have taken a gambit?"
  
  "You believe that as much as I do." Perseus snorted. "No, I believe this is not the first time the Olympians placed Demigods and Demigoddesses under death sentences in one of the rare locations that are completely beyond the reach of the ruling Greek-Roman Pantheon."
  
  Yes, it sounded as if plenty of his fears had been completely justified...
  
  3 March 2007, the Chthonian Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  If you knew nothing about Greek or Roman Mythology, you would have had a lot of problems guessing that Poseidon and Hades were brothers in the first place.
  
  The Enclaves they had ordered for Bianca and himself had certainly nothing in common. Whereas the King of the Seas had gone for multi-coloured fountains, baths, along with an aqueduct and plenty of pools of different sizes, the Chthonian Enclave was dark, threatening, and massive.
  
  Perseus was used to architects who wanted to keep their visitors in awe, but the King of the Underworld had maybe done a bit too much here. The central gate alone was twice the width of any Barrack alone. It had been built using black marble, obsidian, and black-painted construction materials which were intimidating in the extreme.
  
  He wasn't going to mention the skulls decorated with the jewels...oh wait, he did.
  
  "One day, my brother will beat you at this damn Mythomagic card game."
  
  "One day," the former Tyrant nodded before smirking. "Maybe."
  
  "He was close to cornering you because you quickly exchanged your life points for his." The former Dread Empress gave him an unimpressed stare. "And it was particularly cruel of you, I will note."
  
  "He should have seen coming, after my 'Uno' ritual recently."
  
  Bianca di Angelo snorted, but didn't outright disagree.
  
  Instead she changed the subject of conversation.
  
  "You realise my brother will want to come with us next time, right?"
  
  Right, that one he hadn't seen coming.
  
  "I would have thought the multitude of bad ends some of our cannon-fodder experienced would have been enough to discourage some Quester aspirations."
  
  "He's beginning to worship the ground you walk upon," the daughter of Hell told him with a frown.
  
  "Nico is not ready."
  
  "You weren't that old for the first Great Quest."
  
  "This is different, and you know it. This is my second life. Nico? Nico is still innocent, and no, it's not an insult."
  
  "Yes. But you will have to speak with him." Bianca sighed, proving that no, Triumphant wasn't enjoying this conversation any more than he did.
  
  "I hope to put a delay to this for many months. With the diplomatic immunity we gained-"
  
  "You're far cleverer than this most of the time. Do you want to give him this news when it will be time to muster the Suicide Squad again?"
  
  Even by the standards of vile treachery the Dread Empire had been fond of, this was a very low blow.
  
  "We will have this conversation...soon." Perseus admitted defeat. "But I stand by my words. Right now, Nico is not ready for a Great Quest."
  
  There had never been any question Bianca was, since she was an unbelievably powerful sorceress. Alas, for now, there was no question her younger Demigod brother had not her talent. Worse, Nico hadn't inherited the warrior build of Hades' war form. Maybe it would change in the near future, but as it was, placing him anywhere near a line of spears and shields was a very, very bad idea.
  
  "He's been asking for lessons from Odysseus."
  
  Perseus chuckled. Now that Calypso was a Queen of Hell, Hades had decided that the legendary hero of Ithaca was to be far away from the Halls of the Underworld. It was just a 'coincidence', of course, that somehow, there had been a need for a guardian of the Chthonian Enclave at that opportune time.
  
  "Let him. It can't cause much trouble...as long as he doesn't tempt Nico towards alcohol." Like plenty of heroes of ages past, Odysseus was drinking a lot. When you were tormented with as many massacres and bloodbaths, however, the former Tyrant supposed that you needed some things to be forgotten for as long as possible.
  
  The glances they exchanged were worth a thousand words. It was done, and now was the time to return to business.
  
  "So," Bianca began. "We were not the only Demigods to be hidden away by our parents."
  
  "Indeed not, and I think without exaggeration, I found a clue of what sort of dagger the King of the Gods has prepared for us should we prove too much of a problem."
  
  "There wasn't anyone with us at Las Vegas." The former Dread Empress argued.
  
  "No, there wasn't, but this fine establishment is hardly the only one the Lotus-Eaters operate from. They are twelve in all, according to the rumours, and only three of them are Casinos, making it more difficult to find those which aren't."
  
  It had taken some old-fashioned bribery, but he had been able to confirm there weren't any powerful children of Olympians at Macao or Monaco waiting to enter the game at the worst moment possible. There were a few 'half-bloods' trapped in them, but these were mostly idiots and fools.
  
  "You don't know the location of the other Lotus-Eater bastions?"
  
  Perseus rolled his red eye.
  
  "As always, I will insist rumours of my omniscience are greatly exaggerated. I know a lot of things the Gods want to keep secret from us, but it is far from everything."
  
  "What a display of humility," Bianca told him with an unimpressed raise of eyebrows. "Where does that leave us?"
  
  "I don't know," these were not words which were pleasant to say out loud, but they had to be uttered; lying would do no good in that case. "In theory, you could supply an army of Demigods in the Casino I visited; there could be as a result eight armies of several hundred killers waiting to play the role of executioners, and maybe provide alternatives when it comes to Prophecy candidates. On the other hand, it is possible they aren't any Demigods per se left either. World War II was extremely bad, and once the Treaty was signed, they weren't that many exceptional Questers who went missing for long. Plus of course, if a band of Demigods and Demigoddesses are given the privilege of living in a location where time doesn't flow normally, it means they haven't received the second greatest gift the Olympians can give you."
  
  Triumphant had worked upon her Apotheosis. She was not slow to find the correct answer.
  
  "Eternal youth."
  
  "Correct, eternal youth," unless you infuriated the King of the Gods in a very impressive way - like he did - the reward of a Great Quest was generally this, if the Gods didn't offer immortality and godhood with it.
  
  "There are plenty of whispers across New Byzantium that there are several of our predecessors who earned it."
  
  "As far as I can tell, the rumours are correct."
  
  "I'm really surprised you didn't try to arrange a meeting with them, then." Bianca smiled.
  
  "We are not supposed to," the leader of the Suicide Squad replied with a shrug. "Just at the top of my head, the 'eccentric behaviour' some of them manifest daily generated so many problems it was outright damaging for morale. The Olympians want Demigods to volunteer for the Great Quests when the time comes. Watching how crazy certain heroes can become was not exactly a great source of motivation for the Legions and the Questers."
  
  "We are all a bit demented, Perseus."
  
  "Not like them, I'm afraid," the former Tyrant had heard the rumours, and they made the ones where he was involved sound tame and rather well-principled. "Anyway! It isn't like the opportunity will come to verify it with our own eyes. For a meeting to be arranged, you not only need to have accomplished a Great Quest, you also need the permission and an order from four members of the Council-"
  
  There was a bright flash of purple light, and seconds later, a small table materialised right in front of him.
  
  It was elegant. It was black furniture perfectly attuned to their surroundings.
  
  And there was an exquisite letter the colour of red wine posed upon it, closed with a golden seal of grapes.
  
  "It seems," the daughter of Hades laughed, "that certain Gods have decided to listen and to prove you wrong."
  
  "No need to rub it where it hurts," he grumbled. "Ah, curse it."
  
  "You really didn't want to meet our glorious predecessors that badly?"
  
  "No," Perseus shook his head. "I just didn't want to wear a suit."
  
  4 March 2007, the Divine Mansion, New Byzantium (technically), New York (de jure)
  
  There was, Richard Grant thought, something completely morbidly fascinating about the idea of Perseus Jackson donning a suit.
  
  Wearing something formal was a gesture of respect, in a way.
  
  Respect and Perseus Jackson, at the risk of saying something incredibly evident, did not go well together.
  
  To make it even more outlandish, the son of Poseidon was able to wear it superbly.
  
  If you didn't know who he was, you could have mistaken him for a young gentleman of fifteen-sixteen, a very rich Heir who was going to an important place where a lot of rich children were going to rub shoulders with each other.
  
  That lasted as long as you didn't pay attention to the green-striped orange tie.
  
  Because it was Perseus Jackson. Did Richard have to say one more word?
  
  "Remember." The thoughts abruptly ended, for the tone of Jackson was utterly devoid of amusement. "Do not touch the drinks or the food. Do not try anything that might be mistaken for physical violence. The verbal taunts and other provocations must be answered by other taunts and other provocations, nothing more, nothing less. Follow our guide like I will. And above all, remember that all of the people you're about to meet are quite mad."
  
  "Right," Bianca di Angelo looked like a Goddess of Death itself, in her dress of black satin, to the point it was difficult to stare. "But I will argue that you led us in the middle of the wilderness of New Byzantium's western frontier, it is not-"
  
  Perseus took the red letter from his pocket.
  
  Immediately, a large door of blue colour materialised from nothingness.
  
  "I stand corrected," the daughter of Hades grimaced, and it seemed genuine. Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant thing to know that Gods could hide something from even the most powerful members of the Suicide Squad.
  
  "Don't worry," Perseus seemed to have anticipated his thoughts, "the numbers of doors like this one is extremely limited."
  
  They nodded, and went though this unconventional entrance.
  
  Inside it was...white.
  
  It was a strange, white corridor waiting for them.
  
  There were electric lights. It was abnormally clean and white.
  
  Richard didn't believe for a second it was a normal tunnel.
  
  They may be within the borders of New Byzantium, but they weren't really there.
  
  The walk didn't last long, maybe ten minutes.
  
  Another door soon came into view.
  
  Unlike the previous one, this one had a guardian...if you were playing with the definition of it.
  
  It was a short man, one having donned a dark blue suit. With the beginning of baldness and an age which had to be closed to forty, he looked inoffensive.
  
  He certainly wasn't.
  
  "Ah, greetings, honoured visitors! What can I do for you on this fine day?"
  
  "Greetings, honourable friend," Perseus replied cheekily. "I wish to speak to De Valois, if he's willing to receive me."
  
  "Oh yes, of course," there was a small salute, and the eyes narrowed. Yes, Richard didn't know who this man was, but he was dangerous. "De Valois is waiting for you. Follow me."
  
  The door was opened, Perseus went first, then Bianca, and Richard went last-
  
  They weren't in a tunnel anymore.
  
  They were in-
  
  "Welcome to the Divine Mansion, heroes." Their guide said reverently.
  
  They were in the middle of a palace.
  
  No, they were in the middle of something defying the rules of gravity and luxury.
  
  What the many members of the Suicide Squad had received from their parents were palaces.
  
  This...this was beyond that, to the point it hurt your eyes.
  
  There were courtyards were fountains were spraying fruit juice right as musical instruments levitated through invisible magics.
  
  There were corridors filled with awful-looking statues while priceless paintings were stuck to the ceilings.
  
  In a distant avenue, it looked like someone had ordered a Carnival to be organised, one which had to be Brazilian-style, given how many feathers and samba music were involved.
  
  Oh, and there was gold, silver, and quantities of treasures placed in extravagant quantities everywhere the eyes could go.
  
  It was-
  
  "Careful, Richard. Don't try to look everywhere."
  
  Perseus had grabbed his shoulder in an iron grip, and the sensation alone was sufficient to bring him to reality.
  
  Suddenly, the son of Hercules felt really afraid.
  
  It had been mentally affecting him in a few seconds...
  
  "What is this place, Jackson?"
  
  "Our guide told you: the Divine Mansion. It is the great and splendid enclave where some of our Quester predecessors are living, away from the other heroes."
  
  "The ones who received eternal youth anyway," the Lightning Thief whispered, her facial traits frozen in an unhappy frown.
  
  "Yes," their guide confirmed softly, "only the honoured heroes who were rewarded with Eternal Youth and succeeded into the completion of a Great Quest are given the invitation to live their days here."
  
  Which explained why the Suicide Squad had not qualified for this. Plenty of them, beginning with Perseus Jackson, had 'won' two Great Quests, but no one had been rewarded with eternal youth.
  
  "How many of our...august predecessors are here?" He asked slowly.
  
  "We have six groups of Questers," the short man serving as their Guide replied without any emotion as he strode forwards, ignoring all the doors right and left where music and shouts came from irregularly. "Overall, it is an assembly of twenty-two Demigods and Demigoddesses."
  
  That was...not a lot. Richard had known, of course, there had been few Great Quests completed in the latter part of the previous century, but it was still a low number. There had been other Demigods who were rewarded with immortality and godhood. And this place was Quester-only, it wasn't for Legionnaires.
  
  It was still extremely low, when you considered there were thousands of Questers, and easily three times their numbers in Legionnaires and Auxiliaries at New Byzantium-Constantinople.
  
  The thought fled on worried wings, as he followed Perseus' footsteps.
  
  Richard was focusing more and more on his feet and nothing else. The red carpet and his feet, to be honest.
  
  Unfortunately, curiosity often pushed him when they changed direction to let his head rise, and that was when the bad stuff assaulted his senses.
  
  He saw some parody of justice courts that were in reality orgies of food and more hedonistic deeds. He saw giant obstacle races where people bled and were brought on the brink of death before being miraculously healed.
  
  Each time, after a few seconds, he turned his head away.
  
  It was like the Gods had placed all these Questers, whatever their exploits, here in the Divine Mansion to-
  
  "Perseus," he murmured, "this place is a prison, isn't it?"
  
  "I think I prefer the term 'asylum', Richard." Their leader was not smiling, and though he wasn't looking at his feet, the red eye was shining so badly that he had no doubt the son of Poseidon wasn't liking at all what he saw.
  
  "Surely all our predecessors can't be that..."
  
  "There's a reason why these ones were given eternal youth, and not one of the other rewards."
  
  They didn't speak after that. There were no positive emotions to spread around, and though no one said it aloud, everyone had indeed realised that yes, if their minds broke, the Suicide Squad could very well be the next Quester group to join the insane festivities.
  
  The walk had gone on for so long that it was very much unexpected when their guide stopped, before unlocking a door with a large bronze key.
  
  "He is waiting for you."
  
  Richard was going to be very blunt; after the things which had hurt his eyes, he expected something incredibly bad.
  
  The reality was...disappointing.
  
  It looked like they had arrived in a restaurant.
  
  A very nice restaurant, at that.
  
  Suddenly, the insistence of Perseus to make them wear a suit - or a high-class dress for Bianca - suddenly made far more sense.
  
  There were about forty tables, and most of them were occupied.
  
  Unlike with their guide, there wasn't a sense of danger emanating from them.
  
  "Are these-"
  
  "Yes, they are mortals."
  
  "How did they arrive here?"
  
  "This restaurant must have a gate opening for their invitations and forging a path between the Divine Mansion and the world outside."
  
  "This is...risky."
  
  "The crossing? Not really. Dining in this restaurant? Oh yes, very much so."
  
  Richard winced.
  
  "You warned us to not eat or drink anything."
  
  "Correct. And I repeat the warning. Don't."
  
  The son of Hercules had the urge to shout as several men and women emptied their plates and savoured deliciously-smelling meals wherever his head turned.
  
  "Is there-"
  
  "No, I'm sorry, no. And to be honest, I don't even know what our 'host' has planned for them. I am just certain it is going to be unpleasant."
  
  "Why I am not surprised?" Bianca di Angelo murmured.
  
  "Let's go."
  
  They walked towards the rear of the restaurant, where there was an elevated table dominating the rest of the 'room'.
  
  The air was perfumed, but it couldn't hide the pressure, the...the tension ringing in the air.
  
  There was something thoroughly unpleasant at work here.
  
  The Host looked young, extremely so. He was older than them, of course, but he couldn't look older than twenty-two, maybe twenty-five at worst. He wore a classic black suit with a burgundy tie like he was born for it. While there was definitely a hero's body underneath it, he didn't look that muscular or physically impressive.
  
  Unfortunately, while much could be dismissed, his eyes couldn't.
  
  Richard didn't like the blue eyes at all. And he liked even less the radiant smugness which seemed to shroud the 'Host'.
  
  As the distance closed, it became evident the Demigod was not alone. There were four Demigoddesses too seated at his table. All were beautiful.
  
  All definitely and clearly wore nothing but their cocktail dresses.
  
  And this was just the beginning of the weirdness.
  
  They all had some Latina ancestry, something Richard could have expected more from Demigods of other Pantheons, the South American or Central ones. It was a feeling directly reinforced by their animal companions.
  
  The first Demigoddess, the one with an indecent ivory dress, had a large snake wrapped around her neck. The green-dressed one had an adult jaguar on her lap.
  
  The third one, presenting an absurd cleavage with her red dress, had a vulture perched upon her left shoulder.
  
  As for the last one...yeah, he was not dreaming, she was petting a Capybara.
  
  "Ha! Ha! The heroes of the year! Perseus Jackson! Bianca di Angelo! Richard Grant! Welcome to the Divine Mansion!"
  
  Something was added shortly after, in a language Richard didn't understand. It sounded French, though.
  
  "My friends," Perseus countered neutrally, "you stand in presence of Gaston 'De Valois' Dunois, Legacy of the Old Man of the Sea." Nereus. This was a hero descending from the son of Pontus? "In his lifetime, he rose to command the Counter-Intelligence Service of New Byzantium and the Priesthood of Aphrodite. Succeeded in several Quests with his Ladies here, rewarded with Eternal Youth for the completion of a highly-classified Great Quest in 1943, assigned to residence in the Divine Mansion somewhere around 1945."
  
  The fingers of the Demigoddess petting the Jaguar seemed to grow longer. In fact, they very much looked like claws.
  
  "Most of the time, he is known as 'De Valois' in the intelligence services across the world. One of his infamous nicknames happens to be 'Chimera' too."
  
  "Precisely", the blue-eyed Legacy of Nereus made no effort whatsoever to introduce the four Demigoddesses, and the young women themselves did not volunteer anything, just looking at them like they were monkeys able to make a clever trick or two. "We are here to speak of how you've been manipulated by the Fates."
  
  "We are here because we chose to." Richard intervened.
  
  "Wrong," the older Demigod retorted in a tone that broke no concession. "You are here because the Olympians wanted you to come, and they wanted it because the Fates manipulated things to arrive to this conclusion. The Fates gave the cause, the Olympians provided the consequences."
  
  "I disagree," Perseus Jackson had been offended, this was as clear as day, and he changed the position of his chair to ensure the backrest was now closest to the table, after which he jumped on it. "We may not like the consequences of our actions, but free will is always dominating everything."
  
  "Certain threads can't be severed!"
  
  "Is that what you told yourself when you decided to marry these four Aztec Demigoddesses in a single ceremony?"
  
  "You did your utmost to purge Lust from your body, and in the end, you failed."
  
  "That's not what I was expecting to hear from a man who charged a horde of cannibals with a rusted knife!"
  
  "Did you lose whatever left of reason existed when you humiliated Commodus?"
  
  The two Demigods grinned maliciously, and Richard couldn't help but think that it was very, very good thing that the two had never met each other before today.
  
  It remained to be seen if this state of existential goodness could resume in the future...
  
  "I very much hate you." Several French curses were uttered in a conversational voice. Decency forbid Richard to repeat them aloud.
  
  "I despise you with all my heart," Perseus of course replied with one of his trademark grins. "Now, you have information I believe that could prove critical for my life-expectancy."
  
  "I believe so," Gaston Dunois nodded before emptying a crystal glass filled with carmine wine. "You want to know who was hidden by the King of the Gods away in the Lotus Club of London."
  
  "The name alone will be facilitate my researches, you realise."
  
  The French Quester sneered arrogantly.
  
  "Maybe if you went in person, though I doubt it. It took me a couple of years to discover how to access it. And then I had to make an easy escape. The Lotus-Eaters have orders to kill intruders on sight, you see."
  
  "And?" Richard said impatiently.
  
  "And I have no reason to give you the information you want," the Demigod 'De Valois' emptied a second glass of wine while giving them an amused face. "You have nothing to propose in exchange. Nothing at all I might be interested into."
  
  There was a loud moan behind them, and this was when Richard felt the danger.
  
  Several women had risen from their seats, and they looked like they were shaking from head to toe.
  
  Their eyes-
  
  Their eyes had suddenly shifted from human to animal irises!
  
  At the closest table, a gorgeous blonde shivered but moaning in pleasure. Then faster than she should be able to, she discarded her light pink dress and kissed the man closest to her, her eyes lost in pleasure, all the while her ears turned feline-shaped.
  
  "You are really a bastard, Gaston Dunois." Perseus remarked as the first signs of transformation began to be unmistakable.
  
  "Jackson, what is-"
  
  "A Lust drug of incredible potency, combined with some of his fluids, and they're going to transform into one of his four animal forms. Once they will have mated for the first time, the transformation will be permanent, and the same will apply to their partners. Obviously, once they will be fully animal, they won't have a choice but to join the Cult of Aphrodite Dunois is the Priest of."
  
  "Correct on all counts," 'De Valois' smirked. "The Olympians tolerate these parties, in exchange for my compliance."
  
  "And you want to be free," Richard blurted out.
  
  Blue eyes that looked more and more like those belonging on a snake stared at him.
  
  "You are more intelligent than you look, son of Hercules. Yes, I want to be free. The Divine Mansion is my jail, and if you aren't careful, it will become yours too."
  
  The expression gave him the urge to draw his sword...unfortunately, they had brought no weapon whatsoever.
  
  "Now I think you need to leave."
  
  The Jaguar jumped on the table, right as his mistress disrobed and growled threateningly, her skin starting to carve apart and being engulfed in black fur.
  
  "We won't be the ones to free you," Bianca di Angelo spat, her disgust evident.
  
  "I am patient. And though you may acquire some morsels of truth from other parties, I can assure you I have other information that sooner or later you will need...assuming you survive. Au Revoir."
  
  There was a white flash of light, and the restaurant disappeared from reality.
  
  When Richard was able to shake off the disorientation, they were back before the door which was the first hurdle to go to the Divine Mansion.
  
  Three seconds letter, the red letter exploded in ashes. Fortunately for him, Jackson had thrown it away, anticipating something like that.
  
  "All right," the son of Poseidon grimaced, visibly displeased. "Have it your own way, De Valois. I will discover the truth via other means."
  
  6 March 2007, Barrack Number One, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  Jason really didn't know if he was to be exasperated or proud of his sister.
  
  Maybe a bit of both?
  
  Yes, both, definitely.
  
  "I am fine, Jason." Because, yes, in the Grace family, they were stubborn.
  
  "You're not fine." And it was an effort to not roll his eyes. "You still look half-dead every time you go out for a walk, and that was before you almost got killed by rabid penguins."
  
  Yes, for this one, Jason felt he could murderously glare at the duo trapped in the giant enchanted net.
  
  "This still leaves the question what is role in this, err..."
  
  "Alabaster," the white-haired Greek Demigod presented himself, flexing his fingers and ensuring the penguins were solidly trussed up and unable to mount any attempt to escape. "Alabaster C. Torrington, son of Hecate. I'm doing this because Jackson promised a payment for whoever would be able to capture these two penguins and bring them back to his Enclave for the punishment they deserve."
  
  "It must be a hell of a payment," Jason commented. The penguins had almost blown up a building yesterday.
  
  "Nah, it's just thirty Drachmas plus a bonus," the magician shrugged. "It's not much for the danger, but it's a test, and with Jackson, you know you're paid at the proper time. You can't the same about some other senior Questers..."
  
  "Or Legionnaires, right?" As part of a Cohort, Jason was supposed to tell you everything was perfectly orderly and everything involving money was done with indomitable punctuality. And it was. For the main expeditions, and major war games.
  
  When it was not 'proper business' for the Legions, unfortunately, the Sesterces may or may not suffer from local economic conditions.
  
  "Far from me the idea to criticise the Legions of New Constantinople," Alabaster replied, the smile only emphasizing his curious white hair - there had to be a Curse involved, no one should have hair like that so young - before beginning to drag away the penguins.
  
  The son of Jupiter had to acknowledge their pleas of innocence and attempts to beg for mercy were convincing.
  
  They really have to fear Jackson's punishment more than anything in the city, to be sure.
  
  His sister coughed the moment the son of Hecate was past the threshold of Barrack One.
  
  "Grover," she drawled, "you can stop hiding under my bed. The penguins are gone."
  
  "One never can be too prudent! I'm going to wait for a few more hours!"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous," Annabeth Chase said as she entered, her arms carrying sandwiches and bottles of fruit juice. "The comic duo of the Suicide Squad is on its way for some proper punishment. Jackson is going to prepare a magical artefact. There will soon be an enchantment around the penguin house to make sure the only thing they blow up is themselves, and this for the next several weeks."
  
  As a loud 'thud' echoed, Jason admitted this may have been the wrong to say when the young Satyr was listening to them.
  
  "Do not speak of the Arch-Heretic of the North!" Grover was not crying, but he was not far away from that point. "I know it is him who sent these devilish monsters pretending to be penguins! He is after me! He knows I am young and untested, he wants to ruin all my chances to ever rise as a Searcher, and eventually become a Protector!"
  
  "Arch-Heretic of the North?" Thalia seemed to find it amusing, so there was that. "How did it come to pass?"
  
  "Oh rather simply, as go all things with him," Annabeth replied, not bothering hiding how ridiculous she found the entire thing. "One Perseus Jackson told everyone that Pan was dead and gone-"
  
  Grover bleated sonorously.
  
  "The Council of Cloven Hooves sent a particularly strong-worded series of letters demanding he recant his words, and of course, Perseus took it as his mission to repeat everywhere that the God of Nature was dead."
  
  "And is he?" Thalia asked with genuine curiosity. "My knowledge of myths has a lot of glaring holes in it."
  
  Annabeth crossed her arms, and Jason had to admit the daughter of Athena was beginning to get rather stunning. She wore a simple blue T-Shirt to go with blue jeans, but between her blonde braid and her thin athletic body, there was something incredibly attractive with her.
  
  That said, Jason was never going to ever propose, even if she didn't have a boyfriend already.
  
  There was something in the grey eyes which reeked of barely restrained madness.
  
  "No one has seen Pan in more than two millennia, or if someone did, they weren't able to survive and return to New Byzantium or any past Demigod stronghold with evidence to show for it. Besides, the ruins of Arcadia, the God's old Domain, had a Kaiju-sized snake hiding there, so it isn't like-"
  
  "PAN IS NOT DEAD!"
  
  Grover had stopped hiding, and emerged from the bed.
  
  Outwardly, the young Satyr his sister and her friends had befriended years ago looked like a young man...a young man not caring very much about his appearance.
  
  Naturally, once you paid attention, you noticed the pants were hiding something not very human, and the thin horns were small, but not small enough to be missed emerging from his hirsute brown mane.
  
  As for the hooves, well...they were hooves, there was nothing that could hide that.
  
  He was a young Satyr.
  
  He looked furious.
  
  And suddenly, facing the amused stare of one Roman Legionnaire and two Demigoddesses, Grover deflated like a balloon.
  
  "Oh, I apologise, I was just utterly enraged by this...this.."
  
  "Heresy?" Jason suggested.
  
  "Yes, thank you! This heresy! Perseus Jackson is a heretic! He is the Arch-Heretic of the North!"
  
  "I am not drunk enough to consider this seriously," his sister complained. "Annabeth!"
  
  "No, you aren't going to get any wine," the grey-eyed daughter of Athena rolled her eyes again. "Perseus warned me against this deplorable habit of yours. You get fruit juice, and nothing more!"
  
  "I will be able to get alcohol on my own!"
  
  "Yes, because you will be able to pay with it with your own purse? No? Yeah, I didn't think so."
  
  "According to the teachings of Mr. D, making sure your throat is not parched isn't a sin and-"
  
  The young Satyr quickly shut up his mouth, as Annabeth sent him a death glare.
  
  "There are many things where I don't agree with my crazy boyfriend," the blonde hissed angrily. "But alcohol is definitely one of them. Outside the big celebrations and for asking the blessings of the God of Wine, we are not going to become alcoholics! And yes, this applies to you firsthand, Thalia!"
  
  "I am definitely in hell," his sister groaned loudly.
  
  "Oh, and Perseus wants to speak with you. There are some important things that he thinks you need to be informed of, now that you have recovered a bit." Grey eyes turned towards a certain Satyr. "Your presence is required too, Grover."
  
  "I won't go to the Enclave of the Arch-Heretic! Pan preserves my soul!" And with the power given by panic and sturdy hooves, Grover sprinted outside, almost slamming in a marble statue because he wasn't looking before him.
  
  "Okay," Jason said in a deadpan tone. "That could have gone way better..."
  
  The two Demigoddesses, of course, chose to giggle and abandon all dignity shortly after.
  
  7 March 2007, Foundations of a Future Temple, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  In a previous life, she was Catherine Foundling.
  
  Now she was Thalia Grace.
  
  The adaptation was proving surprisingly difficult.
  
  It was not her world, and yet it was.
  
  Her bad leg wasn't crippled anymore, but learning how not to compensate felt incredibly strange.
  
  Nothing made sense, but plenty of it was familiar.
  
  Yes, she struggled.
  
  No, it wasn't pleasant.
  
  At least this morning, they hadn't had to do the long walk to the northern Enclave. There had been flying horses, also named Pegasi in this world, to cut down on the - short - journey.
  
  To say the truth, she had already resigned herself to the Tyrant welcoming her from his throne, with a disturbingly coloured parade.
  
  Instead, Thalia arrived to see the bare-chested 'Perseus Jackson' digging and removing enormous quantities of earth from a seemingly-abandoned patch of land.
  
  There was a shovel in his hands, but it was just for the show. In reality, it was the giant hand-shaped streams of water which were doing all the work.
  
  The former Queen didn't miss the blush of Annabeth, no.
  
  To be honest...yeah, it annoyed her that the girl part of her saw as a little sister was sharing Kairos' bed.
  
  Unfortunately, it reminded her of what her friends in a previous life had said about her taste in men and women.
  
  And it wasn't like giving orders that wouldn't be obeyed were the way to preserve past friendships.
  
  "Welcome, oh my eternal friend!"
  
  Her past sins had made sure the Gods Above sent her to this world, you couldn't convince her of the contrary.
  
  "Tyrant," she cleared her throat.
  
  "Perseus," the bastard corrected her, his red eye shining with obvious amusement. How the hell did he gain it back, by the way? Luke and Annabeth had told her a few of their adventures, but had not reached that event...yet. "Otherwise I will have to call you one of the myriad of names you earned, Black Queen."
  
  The Demigoddess who had once held the Name of Squire sniffed.
  
  "You're one to talk, seriously. Arch-Heretic of the North? Honestly?"
  
  "All the better to ally with the Arch-Heretic of the East?" the Villain grinned, taking a pose by using his shovel as support. "You did get excommunicated and everything in your timeline, right?"
  
  "I did," she confessed while trying not to hard to grit her teeth. "I didn't seek it deliberately, though."
  
  "To say the truth, neither did I," the Tyrant said cheerfully.
  
  "You constantly infuriate the Satyrs."
  
  "I say the truth, Thalia." The smile was still there, but there was something vicious lurking behind it. "Covering your eyes and pretending everything is fine is not a strategy which ends well. If you can call it a strategy, that is. The way the Satyrs are behaving like ostriches sticking their heads into the sand is particularly fascinating, I admit. But it is going to end in tears."
  
  It was very frustrating to lack the lore of this world. There was no way to know for sure if 'Perseus Jackson' was trying to sell her a palace in the middle of the Wasteland or if the man-eating tapirs were truly there ready to pounce.
  
  "Let's assume you aren't full of lies."
  
  "I'm offended you think so little of me."
  
  Needless to say, best to ignore that sentence, for the sake of her sanity.
  
  "You still terrified Grover. He's not coming here; you terrified him...and your penguins finished the job."
  
  "Regrettable," and the black-haired Villain seemed sincere. "There are many, many things I don't know about Satyrs and their traditions. I had plenty of questions to ask."
  
  Both green and red eye lost focus and went to look at the snow-covered mountain making an impassable frontier northwards of the fountains and water-dominated Enclave.
  
  "What are you trying to do here, by the way?"
  
  "What? Oh, I'm beginning the construction of a temple, of course."
  
  Thalia didn't gape, but it was a very near thing.
  
  "You? Building a Temple?"
  
  "Believe me, I found the idea as improbable as you do. Fortunately or unfortunately, I needed some assistance from my divine half-sister Kymopoleia," a powerful breeze hit at that moment, lowering the temperature significantly. Thankfully, it didn't last. It wasn't a coincidence, though. "And this temple is the way to thank her for her assistance."
  
  "It's still very much a work in progress, I note."
  
  The cheerful face returned.
  
  "Well, I sure hope so, I just began today! We're still at the phase of digging to make sure we can be sure secure foundations are feasible there. In the mean time, Annabeth and her half-sisters are in charge of the plans. For now, we have agreed on a fifty metres by twenty metres sacred ground, with plenty of columns, and three big statues, with the most realistic for the altar."
  
  "Metres?" Ah yes, that strange measurement system. "Why didn't you use the old Imperial System?"
  
  "Because laziness is in my nature, and the Metric System is so simple it doesn't require any effort to learn it."
  
  Evidently, asking stupid questions to the Tyrant was going to result in getting malicious answers...
  
  "You still have a lot to-"
  
  A loud amount of music began to blare nearby, interrupting her.
  
  To her surprise, it wasn't something that had been done to disturb her, but a phone which had been tied to Annabeth's belt.
  
  "Yes?" The daughter of Athena asked before sighing. "Yes, he's here. Yes, you can speak with him."
  
  The device was thrown, and Perseus Jackson caught him with one hand and effortlessly, something that assuredly his old crippled self would have been unable to do a lifetime ago.
  
  "This better be good."
  
  Something different must have been activated, for this time, everyone heard whoever was calling.
  
  "We need help to go back to New Byzantium."
  
  There had been no presentations, but clearly, the red eye burning indicated he knew who was calling.
  
  "But if it isn't my favourite missing Huntresses! How is the weather on this fine morning of March?"
  
  "Jackson," ah, yes, here came the predictable growl of frustration. "I am not in the mood!"
  
  "Fortunately, I am, Jenna. How is the situation with the Evil Lesbian Cult?"
  
  The WHAT?
  
  "We were denied the Grace of the Moon. We lost our temper, not that it made a big difference in the end. We were always supposed to be an example the moment we stormed out of that cursed island."
  
  For a second, the Tyrant seemed to show his true age, and there was a sensation of...utter disappointment radiating from him. It didn't last long, but it was there.
  
  "I see. For what it is worth, I am sorry."
  
  "I accept your apologies only if you gave us the means to return to New Byzantium. We fought two hordes of monsters, and Ellen has an injured leg. Fighting our way to the coast was more difficult, since our former 'sisters' abandoned us with broken weapons and no supplies."
  
  "This was not very nice of them. Very well, help will come. I am forbidden to leave New Byzantium, but Ethan, Elvis, and a few others are not. I can buy a few Pegasi and send them on their way in a few hours. Make sure you still have this phone to guide them to the proper coordinates."
  
  "We will."
  
  The communication ended soon enough, and Thalia could hear an enormous quantity of water be thrown over several miles. Oh yes, that was a tyrannical fit of anger.
  
  "How it is, Annabeth, that every time I think the Goddess of the Hunt can't fall lower, she finds a way to prove me wrong?"
  
  "I don't know, Perseus," given how severe her friend's expression was, the words must have betrayed a far, far worse situation than she thought. "I really don't know."
  
  "I wish I could say it was a pleasure to be right, but at that point..." the eyes closed, and anger seemed to burn out of his nostrils. The ground under her feet began to shake.
  
  Then it all stopped.
  
  "Pit damn it. All right, we're going to have stop the 'dig the hole for the foundation' process today. It's not exactly dangerous, but the preparations to rescue two ex-Huntresses from the mess a certain useless Goddess made are now the new priority."
  
  11 March 2007, the Directorial Palace, New Byzantium, United States of America (de jure)
  
  Ellen was glad to be back at New Byzantium.
  
  It felt strange to think as it like that, because before the Great Quest, she had hated every visit to this bastion of Demigod decadence and bitter quarrelling.
  
  But they had a hospital to make sure her leg healed correctly.
  
  They had not thrown her out away on ridiculous accusations.
  
  It still felt...unreal.
  
  On the other hand, the very reality of being summoned to the Directorial Palace, aka Dionysus' base of operations in the city, was very telling you couldn't get completely away from certain actions and words.
  
  There was good news.
  
  Unlike Anne Bonny, Jenna and herself hadn't been manacled or restrained in any way.
  
  Yes, the second daughter of Demeter of the Suicide Squad was back, with her pirate attire and all.
  
  It would be amusing, if she hadn't several scars on her arms, and someone had evidently gagged her.
  
  "Perseus, my boy, you place me in a difficult situation."
  
  It must be rare for words to contrast so much with the behaviour of someone.
  
  Right now, the God of Wine was drinking joyously, while sending cubes of meat to his two favourite leopards.
  
  "Me? Placing my favourite Olympian in difficult situations? The idea seems absurd."
  
  And if the grin of the mad Demigod became wider, there was going to be some problem with his jaw. It wasn't physically possible to grin that widely, right?
  
  "I wouldn't use the word 'absurd' in presence of my half-sister." The son of Zeus had many siblings, but everyone in the room knew who he was referring to. "She wants your head on a pike, and she's not exactly shy about shouting it everywhere she goes on Olympus."
  
  "If she didn't want me to send a rescue operation to bring back the duo of ex-Huntresses, there were channels she could have used to stop it in its infancy stage. Instead she naively assumed that everyone abandons their fellow Questers like she changes of fur coats."
  
  "Careful, oh my favourite Demigod," the effect would have been more impressive if Dionysus hadn't raised his glass in a mock salute. "She is a member of the Olympian Council."
  
  "I assure you, oh Mighty God of Wine and Madness, I am careful. This is far, far from the true opinion I hold close to my heart where the Mistress of the Hunt is concerned."
  
  Ellen didn't know if she had to cheer or be a bit horrified about that. It was good Perseus had sent a force to save them, of course. But it was worth a facepalm or two to know he had likely done so because his first idea was to spite Artemis as much as a mortal could.
  
  There was a new sigh, and the leopards received more food.
  
  Seriously, if there was more contrariety, the felines were going to be more well-fed than the average Demigod of New Byzantium.
  
  "In fact, I have my suspicions her wrath exists in the first place is because she wanted her former servants to become vagrants for the rest of her lives, which would naturally be short and miserable. Correct?"
  
  What?
  
  "I can't confirm or deny it." The way Dionysus eluded the question was utterly terrifying.
  
  Perseus Jackson crossed his arms and scoffed.
  
  "You don't need to. I have a direct line to Atlantis, you know. It wasn't difficult to ask the right questions. Ellen and Jenna are not the first Huntresses to be ostracised historically."
  
  The son of Poseidon chuckled, though no one in his right mind would have called it a pleasant sound.
  
  "I am a Tyrant, and I did villainous things. And yet. Even I don't do that for fun and giggles. Hells. You can argue that Commodus didn't do that kind of stuff."
  
  As always, this hated name generated a grimace.
  
  No matter how much this Narcissist Predator suffered, the memory of what he had done would never disappear entirely in her mind.
  
  "In his case, it was certainly by lack of power and skill." Dionysus for the first time poured some reproach in his tone.
  
  "I concede," Perseus nodded unhappily. "All right. A certain Goddess is angry. That said, she can't do anything to touch them here. They were part of the Suicide Squad, in all the way that matters."
  
  "For that to be the case, you have to give them part of the giant pile of money your Questers will soon divide between themselves."
  
  "As if it is a massive chore," the black-haired scoundrel grinned. "I don't do this for the money, Lord Dionysus. The millions of Drachmas are tools and weapons. I of course won't refuse them, but I am not going to sleep on a mountain of gold like one of those imaginary dragons and refuse to share the spoils."
  
  Ellen blinked. There had been significant rewards? The other Gods must have been very glad the Quest was successful, then. The rewards had almost certainly not come from Artemis.
  
  "I'm sure we could dance with words for a good part of the afternoon, but we both have far better things to do. Unless I am completely wrong, you have been ordered to play the role of mediator?"
  
  "Ah, if only all Demigods were so insightful," Dionysus mourned mockingly. Ellen almost thought she could hear the screams of panic of the Fates in the distance. "Yes, you are correct. The would-be Pirate Queen and the two ex-Huntresses are to be assigned to residence to your Enclave, and will be forbidden to leave its boundaries."
  
  "Come on, the display of cruelty is unnecessary," Perseus immediately retorted. "Ellen and Jenna have lost everything, and the...the Goddess of the Hunt sunk my beautiful Bombardment Galleon just to prove a nonsensical point. Besides, most of the Suicide Squad is already restricted to New Byzantium. The travel restrictions need only to apply to here. Whether you call it New Byzantium or New Constantinople, it is just a super-enclave anyway."
  
  "I'm willing to accept the reasoning. But my sister won't like it."
  
  And yes, this time, the warning was declared loud and clear.
  
  "At the risk of speaking very bluntly, she not liking it is half of the reasons I do things on issues related to the Hunt these days."
  
  Ellen winced. When you considered Perseus Jackson routinely declared his eternal friendship to everyone he met, the brutal and uncompromising attitude was a clear sign of how bad it could get.
  
  Then again, it wasn't like it was a big surprise.
  
  The son of Poseidon had never made a mystery he disliked severely Artemis, and things had gone much, much worse during the two Great Quests.
  
  "There are other 'restraints' she wants to impose."
  
  "I am ready to hear them, then, Lord Dionysus."
  
  12 March 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  The hall, of course, was brazenly imperialist.
  
  This was not the biggest problem.
  
  There was an immense fountain near the entrance which was enchanted to spray you every time you used rude language.
  
  It was assuredly a problem for some of his men to be deprived of their right to use their favourite insults for a few hours, but it could be tolerated.
  
  However, it paled compared to the gigantic, titanic, colossal latest problem.
  
  There was no alcohol, only fruity sodas for everyone.
  
  Marko Ramius was not fond of these meeting where everyone was dead drunk before the serious conversations happened, but by the damn stupidity of all Admirals, who the hell began an important reunion like this without a glass of liquor?
  
  "My friends, it cheers me from the bottom of my soul to see you have all answered my invitation. Especially you, Michael."
  
  Not far from Marko's seat, the large Blue Hare scowled.
  
  Several years ago, it would have been the sign he was having hallucinations.
  
  Now?
  
  Now, Marko had to admit it was the new normal, which said frightening things about what the human mind could endure before breaking.
  
  "Given the circumstances, there is one absent, the lovely Lou Ellen Blackstone, and I was given her proxy vote this morning. Any objections?"
  
  There was none. The rectangular table may be immense, but it was clear that no one was going to open his mouth to challenge the black-haired son of Poseidon. Not on that specific point, at least.
  
  "Good."
  
  And the Lord of the Suicide Squad sat on the miniature throne at the end of the table, in a superb kind of royalist display that fooled no one.
  
  Some people, Marko noted amusingly, would have donned a suit for the occasion.
  
  These people were not Perseus Jackson.
  
  Today, the grinning Demigod had somehow gotten his hands on a half-orange, half-black parody of a military uniform.
  
  "I may be overestimating the ability of everyone to focus on some interesting subjects, but for the record, this gathering is happening in the first place because by now, my chief of staff and my glorious self can confirm all the spoils and allowances that may be considered rewards for the completion of our Second Great Quest have been paid. Once again, if you haven't bothered to read your secret scrolls, they amount to the 66 million Drachmas paid by different Olympian and not-Olympian deities, the 8 million Drachmas taken from my perfidious brother with his ridiculous mask, and the awesome 110 million Drachmas which represent the share of everything that was sold at auctions from the vaults of the Forge of All Perils. As the various taxes, fees, and obligations have been paid, this is indeed a sum that requires no adjustment. We really have managed to grab via some legal and illegal methods the splendid sum of 184 million Drachmas."
  
  There were many whistles and murmurs.
  
  Marko was among the former; he knew how much a Drachma could be exchanged for a dollar, and yes, it was a lot. Moreover, the rebellious teenagers around him had been able to steal, pillage, or be gifted millions of the incredibly valuable currency.
  
  "This is the moment I should remind you there were accords mentioning the distribution of gains at the beginning of the Quest," plenty of people scowled, in the majority the boys and girls who had not seats to their name. Leaning against the walls, Legionnaires and Amazons had come in large number today, in addition to several dozen Telekhines.
  
  "Fortunately, I believe a change of rules is in order, and my beloved officers have been charmed enough by my arguments that I was convinced to organise a different repartition for these spoils of war."
  
  There were, it must be mentioned, plenty of sighs of reliefs.
  
  "We are all happy to hear you don't intend to screw us like some pirates usually do when the chests are opened," Anne Bonny commented, her large pirate hat in front of her on the table.
  
  "I would be dishonest to pretend I didn't consider it," the grin was ferocious and dangerous, "but the first repartition of the loot was based on the fact I didn't think I would have to pay the Huntresses a single Drachma at the time."
  
  Annabeth Chase cleared her throat.
  
  "All right, I would have to pay for their mutual and splendid funerals."
  
  Perseus Jackson, Marko admitted inside, would have horrified certain politicians he'd met in his distinguished career.
  
  "Evidently, many, many things changed. Some I had predicted; others not so much."
  
  The teeth were bared, and Perseus Jackson's red eye shone like a miniature lighthouse of madness in the hall.
  
  "Let's begin with a point someone I think where we will be able to get a unanimous vote. Nocturna, formerly Bella Medina," Marko had much difficulty acknowledging the second name, and it rapidly faded away after it was spoken, "has betrayed me, spectacularly at that. While I can clap my hands at the fact she was able to get one over me, I am not in the habit of paying traitors with my hard-won Drachmas. Who is in favour of ensuring our black-winged traitor gets a just reward of zero for her blatantly dishonest and perfidious crimes?"
  
  All hands, paws, fins, and other appendages instantly went up, and there was no trace of hesitation.
  
  "Excellent! Now onto the very serious affairs..."
  
  So far, everything had held up nicely.
  
  Of course, Perseus wasn't exactly delusional. He hadn't say anything divisive, and Nocturna wasn't popular, to use one charming understatement.
  
  "It goes without saying that some before the Great Quest thought the separation between officers and non-officers was unfair."
  
  A fin was raised, interrupting his monologue before it could gain much weight.
  
  "Yes, Rico?"
  
  "I have a simple decision, Boss! Make everyone an officer!"
  
  "It is indeed rather simple," the former Tyrant smirked before giving the assembly a deadpan look. "No."
  
  "That would-"
  
  "Let me rephrase this. I am not making you an officer, Rico Kowalski. I have not forgotten how you disobeyed my orders and began to play with grenades last week. You want responsibilities and the duties of an officer? You better begin behaving as one."
  
  As amusing as the comic relief was, you didn't put him in charge.
  
  "Now that it is said and done, I must point out we had several dead. Many of them had families. Douglas Smith. Fergus Cook. Nick Coleman."
  
  "Our sisters of the Hunt," Jenna pointed out with insistence.
  
  "Yes, but they didn't leave a family outside of the servants of the Moon Goddess." Perseus replied smoothly. "Unless you know something I don't?"
  
  Ellen and Jenna shook quickly their heads. Excellent synchronisation, that.
  
  "Before anyone interrupts me, I intend to create a Pension Fund of one million Drachmas for those who fell in battle, and that I think upheld the mutual friendship they swore to me. Obviously, it doesn't apply to most of the Legionnaires of the Twelfth, who proved a pain in the backside from beginning to end."
  
  Tribune Erica Keller's lips moved, but it stopped there. Inter-Legion solidarity had its limits. Who would have thought?
  
  "The situations are different, so there won't be a 'one model type' of payment delivery. Douglas had two brothers, for example, and one needs tuition payments for his studies. This will be dealt by the Pension Fund. Academic pursuits at New Constantinople are hardly cheap."
  
  "They strive to offer quality, Jackson."
  
  "If you say so," the matter was closed, and there was no discontent, which was good. It might be he wouldn't need to use Charmspeak today, though it was a bit early to congratulate himself.
  
  "Obviously, it was really tempting to put several of our 'reinforcements' into our order of battle, but I, in the end, did discard the idea."
  
  Besides, plenty of the 'officers' had been vehemently against. And there were many good reasons for that, starting with the not-so-minor point their participation had been incredibly limited.
  
  "So we're going to do things differently. Captain Marko Ramius and his men. Tribune Erica Keller. Smith-Commander Lenny and the Honourable Family. These different factions have all supported the Suicide Squad in various ways. Therefore for each, I, the commanding officer of the Suicide Squad, acknowledge a fair sum of 3 million Drachmas is a fair price for your enthusiasm and your work."
  
  There were plenty of happy faces in and outside the table.
  
  There were some expressions of 'not enough!' too.
  
  It was too bad for them.
  
  If the Romans wanted enormous mountains of spoils, next time they would complete the Great Quest without Quester Help.
  
  "It goes without saying, Tribune Keller, that I don't want to hear from Legionnaires that the repartition of these formidable gains was abruptly disproportioned in favour of the superior officers. Clear?"
  
  "Perfectly clear, Jackson," the Legacy of Sol did meet his eyes levelly. "They will all get a first triple-pay payment before this evening."
  
  "I know why I prefer you to all these sycophants the Twelfth Legion bred by the dozens in its First Cohort!"
  
  "Speaking of which," Leo Valdez raised timidly his hand. "I must mention Octavian is making threats near the Barracks every day."
  
  "He can make all the threats he wants, he won't get a single coin from me." The little weasel was the worst sort of treacherous lieutenant; the one which wasn't going to stay bought for longer than one hour. "Now for the more political issues. It has been brought to my attention that a certain Hylla Ramirez-Arellano has become the Queen of the Amazons."
  
  Perseus clapped his hands; it amused him one-third of the room followed him.
  
  "Of course, she and her beloved sister weren't formally part of the Suicide Squad for long."
  
  It was incredibly to see the Amazons all scowl within three seconds.
  
  "This better be not an attempt to exclude us from this repartition of the spoils, Jackson," Reyna told him while touching the hilt of a dagger.
  
  "Oh, it's not. It's just a deliberate attempt on my part to gain an amnesty for all past crimes and misdemeanours I may have committed against interests of the mercantile-aggressive Amazon megacorporation."
  
  "This is...have you no shame?" an Amazon erupted.
  
  "In my defence, I had a very rogue childhood," cue the pious expressions with his hands making the sign that was most associated with a prayer on this world.
  
  The effect was a bit ruined by Annabeth slapping him, alas.
  
  "I think we can give you an amnesty," Hylla's lips twitched in black humour. "For past crimes, anyway. If you try to commit new ones, the Amazons will of course be very inventive in their attempts to skewer you."
  
  It was a nice warning, though now that he had the money to buy a warehouse filled with magical items, it shouldn't be too much of a problem anymore.
  
  "In that case, contingent on the amnesty paperwork being properly signed and dated for today, it is my greatest honour to pay the Ramirez-Arellano sisters and various Amazon parties the sum of 10 million Drachmas. Capitalism once again emerges triumphant."
  
  "You could have said it another way," Dakota was of course prompt to defend his girlfriends.
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, my drunken lieutenant. When would I use these acidic tirades, if not here and now?"
  
  There were some grumbles. There were shouts and attempts to ask for more bribes...pardon, more spoils of war.
  
  All of it was refused. Though a numerical majority had just been mentioned one way or another, it was assuredly the truth that they had missed several major battles while the core of the Suicide Squad hadn't.
  
  "Now for the ex-Huntresses."
  
  "You're going to place us all in the same category, Jackson?"
  
  "That would be way simpler, but not exactly fair, wouldn't it, Ellen?" the Drakon-Slayer drawled ironically. "The big problem is that while you four returned at New Byzantium alive, you did not exactly end up surviving with similar performances. Kimiko had an epic showing which allowed me to kill Commodus the first time. Jade became a Champion and earned her spurs, to use a chivalry metaphor. You two...well, I needed to send a rescue operation on the coast of Guyana."
  
  Obviously, two of the four weren't happy to be reminded of that, but it would be forgotten in time.
  
  Everything could be forgiven, and it wasn't like he was going to leave them with empty pockets for their hobbies.
  
  "Ultimately, it was decided to give Jade the 10 Million her bravery deserved. Kimiko will be rewarded with 8 million. And Jenna and Ellen will have to buy new arrows and bows with three million for their duo."
  
  Skipper raised a fin, far bigger than Rico's courtesy of being an Emperor Penguin of now prodigious size.
  
  "Four million," Perseus sighed. The fin was lowered. "And I have a veto right on plenty of your expenses."
  
  "That's cruel!"
  
  "You can pick it up with Olympus instead if it is your greatest desire."
  
  The beaks were shut down.
  
  "Plenty of these heroes have already received their just rewards, but we still have several officers to praise and mark for their notable exploits. Asterius, who for some reason, always refuses to be an officer."
  
  "Short one?"
  
  There was going to be a set of horrible punishments for everyone who guffawed in the next ten seconds.
  
  "Yes, Asterius, I am shorter than you. But I know you will find some use for the three millions, as will Anne Bonny and Elvis Knight, who fought with us against the Triumvirate, a certain Sea Titaness, and many other great perils."
  
  The son of Poseidon waited for ten seconds for the reactions to be voiced, then.
  
  "I also have decided, using my own tyrannical authority, to promote Richard Grant to officer rank, therefore raising the number of glorious madmen...I mean, proud officers, to fourteen. And look at that, there are indeed one hundred and forty million to distribute!"
  
  There were groans of disappointment, and smiles for his friends. Yes, Perseus knew that it wasn't a limiting factor, since he had sworn again and again eternal friendship with everyone who walked into the Enclave this morning.
  
  There were bribes to be given, and also promises of economic and military support. But after fifteen minutes, the large battalions of Legionnaires, Amazons and other foreigners left, some commenting with peeved expressions they would bring alcoholic drinks themselves next time.
  
  Ha! They were welcome to try.
  
  "No one will believe you if you say it is a coincidence," Drew smashed the possible monologue he had upon his tongue into a thousand pieces.
  
  "You are all horrible at praising me."
  
  "Yes, yes, we're all in awe and all of that," plenty of times Hera's old personality resurfaced. Today Perseus didn't know if it was the old or the new her. "I know enough mathematics to know there's one million which hasn't been allocated."
  
  "Ah yes, that million..." Perseus breathed out. This was going to get loud. "It is for the Heroic Sovereign Escape Fund of the Suicide Squad."
  
  "Why would we need a...Sovereign Escape Fund, whatever it is?" Michael asked, his extraordinary long hare ears reaching far above the top of his chair.
  
  "Because, in my professional opinion, the next time a Great Quest is proposed, we should refuse it at all costs."
  
  Yes, the hall was filled with protests and shocked sounds faster than you could say 'Curse you Zeus'...
  
  Bianca had been convinced Perseus wouldn't be able to surprise her today.
  
  The millions of Drachmas had been allocated as per the plan, though sometimes she wished Jackson could stop alternating between his taunts and swearing 'eternal friendship' to everyone.
  
  It had been so nice to be right, until it was no longer the case.
  
  "I don't want to ruin the dramatic effect, but we've just returned from an extremely dangerous adventure. Politically and military, Olympus can't afford the price of sending us again in a Zone Mortalis, and that's disregarding the issue of the one-year-long diplomatic immunity."
  
  "Oh, I'm not saying it's going to happen tomorrow or in a month." The grinning Demigod mused. "I'm just saying it is going to happen. And to answer the latter point, it's entirely likely the Coalition and the Triumvirate will take more than a year to prepare their next strikes. At that point, obviously, our diplomatic immunity will be null and void."
  
  "You can't be sure of that," Miranda Gardiner spoke in their name. "The Gods-"
  
  "There are already rumours spreading, of legions of monsters going missing, of artifices being prepared." Perseus interrupted her. "And while I was unable to get any precise information about the Demigods who were spirited away in the establishment of the Lotus-Eaters, something tells me the King of the Gods isn't going to be reluctant at all to get them out of the time-frozen parties if the situation gets 'interesting'."
  
  "There are Gods who are whispering we are too dangerous, right?" the daughter of Hades had not expected Clarisse to be the one to make that insightful remark, but it made sense, given how Ares had been spirited away after the Twelfth Labour.
  
  "Lesser ones for now," the son of Poseidon confirmed. "And they justify it by the fortunes we were able to grab despite unpleasant conditions and against strong opposition."
  
  "Would it be too bad to remind them that we accomplished so much because you ordered the Inevitable Doom while most were busy pretending there wasn't a problem in the first place?" Jenna asked in the Suicide Squad's name.
  
  "I think...I think no one has presented this argument loudly where dozens of immortals might be listening, no."
  
  "Typical," the ex-Huntress grumbled.
  
  "All of that is concerning," Ethan Nakamura agreed, "especially since it has been only a few days we're back at New Byzantium. But let's face it, we were never going to be popular, not when our leader is believed to be insane, mentally disturbed, and extremely dangerous in every way a Demigod can possibly be."
  
  "You have some progress to do when it comes to compliments, my treacherous lieutenant," the aforementioned leader said in a very aggrieved voice.
  
  "Do I?" the sarcasm was near-overwhelming. "I hadn't noticed."
  
  "Ouch! However, I failed to hear any question here my wits would be required to answer."
  
  "What I wanted to say," the son of Nemesis glared at the unrepentant red-eyed Demigod, "is that we all knew these Great Quests were going to be horribly dangerous. The first one, which saw us interrupting the plans of the Lightning Thief," Bianca ignored disdainfully the glances the assembly gave her, "would have made the point clear if we tried to lie to ourselves. The second was pure hell, with massive sea battles and trials which were conceived to massacre powerful children of the Gods and Goddesses. Yet we survived."
  
  "Most of us survived," Dakota amended, his eyes falling upon a seat which had been vacated. Out of all of the officers of the Suicide Squad present during the general meeting, Michael Yew had been the only one to escape as fast as he could when the riches were divided permanently.
  
  "Most of us knew the risks," Ethan commented drily, and no one raised his or her voice to contrary him. "And you were particularly enthusiastic at the idea, Perseus Jackson. What changed?"
  
  "We had a chance, during our first two Great Quests."
  
  The blunt answer created several grimaces.
  
  "It wasn't-"
  
  "I could predict with some reasonable accuracy, for good reason as future events proved, that the enemy designated by Olympus would be able to use the lawless nature of the Zones Mortalis to transform them into Quest-battlegrounds. This is no longer the case."
  
  "You don't think the Coalition will invade another Zone Mortalis?"
  
  Perseus looked at Luke Castellan, before grimacing.
  
  "If they want to do so, they will have to hurry. Richard's father is on a rampage, eliminating plenty of monsters and ancient fugitives of the Underworld right and left. In the real world, Blackbeard himself was defeated and his attempts at creating a new armada wiped out. In many cities across the world, efforts to spread the worship of the Olympians are extremely noticeable, according to every source I cultivated in the last two years."
  
  "You think this should have represented a mortal threat to the Coalition," Bianca saw clearly the message Perseus wanted to convey. "You think the Titan and the Sire of Drakons should have already reacted violently to these brutal changes to the status quo."
  
  They weren't that weakened by the fall of Commodus, when it comes to it. And losing hundreds of Praetorians and thousands of Centaurs was hardly something that would give amoral rulers a pause.
  
  "Yes, I do. In my opinion, the only reason for this behaviour can be explained by the fact they don't have a need for the Zones Mortalis anymore. The Coalition wants something, and we won't be able to discover the battlefield until we're thrown in the middle of it, assuming it is not created specifically to kill a Legion worth of Questers. This is not a story which ends well for any of us."
  
  "That's...that's a bit pessimistic, right?" Leo asked shyly, something not helped by the fact everyone had his or her pointed at him. "Err...there's not a Great Quest where there's zero chance of success. There are Ancient Laws, right? The Gods and Titans can't kill us like that, not without paying a price."
  
  "Leo brings a good point."
  
  "But?" Bianca argued back.
  
  Perseus gave her a thin smile.
  
  "But, as certain lieutenants of mine here should have noticed, the Huntresses weren't supposed to be killed during the Games of Commodus. Sometimes, there are definitely things worse than a violent and non-heroic death."
  
  15 March 2007, Foundations of a Future Temple, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  The closer they were to beginning the true process of the temple's foundations, the more Annabeth was amused by the fact Perseus hadn't lied.
  
  He truly had no idea of the finest details of architecture.
  
  Or in fact the basic details of architecture.
  
  Or anything that was more complicated than telling 'I want something looking like that, let's push some money for it'.
  
  "I can understand why Medusa looked like she wanted to slam your head against a block of marble one hour ago. You are truly a hopeless case, Perseus."
  
  "I prefer to think I remained at Level Zero when it comes to architecture."
  
  "There is no Level Zero," the blonde Demigoddess hissed, before blinking as she looked at the latest 'suggestion' for the pillars of the temple, one which required assuredly a complete lack of understanding of the laws of gravity. "Or there shouldn't be one, anyway. How the hell did you get away with it in your first life?"
  
  "I inherited the kingdom, and I was smart enough to let the artists and architects do what they want as long as they provided results?"
  
  This damn smile was going to be the end of her. It was going to be the end of her, why hadn't she fled days ago?
  
  "It doesn't work like that."
  
  "Of course, it does." For once, Perseus was looking at her seriously. "The qualities which are in high demand for leadership are not good for the rest of society. You can get some of use of tyranny in politics and war; it doesn't really work for anything else. If a sculptor is abhorrent towards students and clients alike, few will buy his artworks while he is alive."
  
  "That's still a rather...pessimistic view of human civilisation."
  
  "I'd love to be proven wrong, but in the grand scheme of things, rulers are very much parasites." She had expected some bluntness, but not to that level. "Overall, the ruling class is expected to redistribute the taxes as fairly as possible and get a salary for it. Since I'm a Tyrant, I am not in the habit to hide in a basement and extol patriotism and self-sacrifice all the while filling my own pockets and pretending those are not bribes."
  
  "You're awfully cynical this afternoon."
  
  "I am."
  
  Then he grimaced. It was a genuine, true, emotion completely antagonistic to his legendary grins.
  
  "Do you want to know a secret?"
  
  "That's more your decision than it is mine, I'm afraid."
  
  "It's related indeed to fear, in a way." The Drakon-Slayer admitted. "No matter how hard I want to convince myself, I can't bring myself to ask Thalia Grace what happened after I died."
  
  "There's nothing wrong with refusing to know some consequences. And honestly, it was a different version of you."
  
  "It was someone like me who made close to the same decisions until the final campaign, Annabeth. The army? In that timeline, I inherited it like I did before. The economy? I sent it down the drain as I pillaged across the Free Cities. The victory and the defeats? They were very similar, for the climax to happen like it did."
  
  For all her intelligence, she didn't find in her anything worthwhile to answer to that.
  
  "I made sure the Gods Below cheered and applauded. I don't think anyone had ever managed it before. But now that I am able to look back in the mirror...I am not really proud of anything beyond my tyrannical authority."
  
  "Really?" She drawled with both eyebrows raised.
  
  "Fine," her boyfriend huffed. "I was rather proud of the alcohol and insults' bans. Sadly, I am one hundred percent certain they didn't survive a day after my rule."
  
  "You might be even pretty optimistic there."
  
  "Why is anyone so foul-mouthed? Politeness is the most beautiful of all virtues!"
  
  "You're just delighting in swearing your eternal friendship while lambasting other parties for their elocution problems," the daughter of Athena accused him.
  
  "I am terribly wounded by this insinuation."
  
  "You better not listen to all the things Thalia has to say about you, then. I think yesterday she described you as a 'crippled child who had an anvil dropped too many times upon his skull'."
  
  "I am incredibly wounded by this blasphemy. I will have you know I didn't a drop an anvil upon anyone as far as I remember, and that includes myself."
  
  The innocent face didn't hint there was much truthfulness in that statement.
  
  "Besides, my eternal friend has yet to answer my inquiries about the bets I made on her love life."
  
  "Do you want her to murder you in your sleep?" Annabeth asked, amusement returning to her maximum.
  
  "She would never do that!"
  
  Yes, at times, it was better to roll your eyes and ignore some subjects altogether.
  
  "Honestly, Perseus. She may have had a complicated love life in her previous life, but it may not continue here. To begin with, I don't think there's a pretty redhead in the Suicide Squad who is suddenly going to develop extremely strong feelings for her."
  
  17 March 2007, New York City, United States of America (de jure)
  
  She woke up screaming.
  
  It took her a few seconds to realise it had merely been a nightmare.
  
  Again.
  
  "Yet it felt so real..."
  
  She had been able to smell and sense everything.
  
  It had been all too real. A nightmare shouldn't be that realistic.
  
  Yet it was.
  
  A part of her brain told her to try to return to sleep.
  
  Unfortunately, looking at her alarm clock, it would grant her only fifteen minutes, and then there would be more efforts to drag herself out of bed.
  
  She stretched.
  
  She stood.
  
  She was Rachel Elizabeth Dare.
  
  It wasn't a few nightmares which were going to break her.
  
  She was stronger than that.
  
  By the time she had reached the bathroom, Rachel felt she could act and think better than a comic book zombie.
  
  Once cold water had been sprayed several times on her face, the young girl definitely felt somewhat alive once more.
  
  It let her return to her bedroom, and as the windows opened, watching dawn come for Central Park.
  
  "Look at that. I live a life of privilege that most people would kill for, and I complain about a few nightmares."
  
  That her voice wavered just as she was speaking told quite a few things, beginning that she was unable to fool herself.
  
  She was Rachel Elizabeth Dare, daughter of Faolan Dare. Yes, that Faolan Dare. The billionaire who was officially the CEO of Dare Enterprises and Consulting, but unofficially had managed by a series of financial schemes to rise as the head of a world-spanning cartel business-oriented experts called the 'D Group'.
  
  Her mother was Cassidy Dare, former officer of the US Army specialised in logistics and other stuff, which was half the reason most of her family's life was conducted like a martial schedule.
  
  Rachel sighed.
  
  She loved her parents, but sometimes she wished they were here more often.
  
  She wished she could tell them that yes, since the age of ten, she could see monsters walking, running, and slithering in the streets.
  
  Rachel wished she could tell them a lot of things, and that they would take her seriously, and not as the rambling of a girl having hallucinations.
  
  "Ah, if wishes were true..."
  
  Rachel breathed out, and calmed herself. Her parents were like that, she couldn't change their personality with a click of fingers.
  
  The time to choose a T-Shirt and jeans for the day, and she was descending the stairs. Yes, Rachel knew it would horrify her mother once again, but seriously, she had already to wear a stupid uniform at school. There was no way she was going to wear one at home too.
  
  Yes, that the uniforms clashed with her frizzy red hair was one of the excuses she had found.
  
  Rachel sometimes thought genetics could have given her a pass and made sure she hadn't so many freckles on her face, but on height and hair colour, she had been lucky. And if her green eyes sometimes put a few people ill-at-ease? Screw them.
  
  Yes, this language had come from the other girls at school, not her family circle. It wasn't proper, for some unfathomable reason.
  
  Rachel suppressed a yawn. Perhaps she should have stayed a bit more in the bathroom. It seemed the cold water hadn't been reinvigorating enough-
  
  The door of the Art Room was open.
  
  Why was it open?
  
  She remembered locking it last night before going to bed, and her parents generally didn't bother investigating as long as she did the clean-up herself.
  
  Rachel stormed inside, rude words on her tongue-
  
  The imprecation died in her throat.
  
  What did you say when there was a naked female teenager looking at your paintings?
  
  And yes, by naked, Rachel was not exaggerating.
  
  The girl was several years older, and you could see everything of her athletic body without a loincloth to hide her dignity.
  
  The worst part? Somehow, she felt familiar.
  
  "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
  
  The black-haired girl looked at her like she had uttered the funniest thing imaginable.
  
  Rachel instantly took a dislike to her.
  
  "You used your glimpses to paint, using my Sire's power, and you thought it wouldn't have consequences?"
  
  The fingers moved like a claw would, coming incredibly close from the scene where a black-haired girl was emerging from a pine tree.
  
  "The Power of Prophecy carries many prices with it, Rachel Elizabeth Dare."
  
  "You didn't answer my question! Who are you and what are you doing here?"
  
  The black eyes flashed, and Rachel reflexively grabbed a pencil. Yes, poor instincts; she didn't know what was happening, but one of her art tools wasn't going to be of much use.
  
  "I am Nocturna. And obviously, I have come to meet you, my fellow Oracle."
  
  Something pulsed inside her head. The glimpses returned, and so did the nightmare.
  
  "You are not yet the Oracle of Shadows!" She hissed in a voice that was not hers.
  
  "And you are not the Prime Oracle either," the intruder...Nocturna replied with a smirk.
  
  Rachel flinched, and tried hard to keep her heart from going into overdrive mode.
  
  "What...what happened?"
  
  "You're beginning to understand your true role, of course."
  
  "No."
  
  "I'm sure you have seen a lot. Each time you try to glimpse something with your paintings," this time the fingers were pointed at a giant white ship, a mega-yacht bigger than the one her father owned, which was quite saying something, "you interact with you future self. These are not nightmares, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. This is the future you are destined to embrace."
  
  "You," suddenly the voice matched. "You are one of the monsters."
  
  The expression she received in return was one of amusement.
  
  "I suppose this is a question of perspective."
  
  Light fell, and shadows engulfed the room.
  
  It didn't last long, maybe two or three seconds.
  
  But when it was over, the nightmare had become real.
  
  Gone was the black-haired girl.
  
  There was now an abomination standing in her place.
  
  It was as if someone had tried to merge a human girl and a bat, before plunging the final result in a vat of liquid black latex.
  
  Immense bat-like wings. Cruel claws. Talons able to kill a grown man with a single strike.
  
  And this was just for the looks.
  
  Somehow, her mind screamed, it was far, far worse than that.
  
  "What...you are not human?" yes, that was a lame response, thank you very much, brain.
  
  "I was. Like you." The fangs were revealed as the maw slightly opened. "No. Maybe not like you. I was a Demigoddess, before discarding my humanity. You...you are clear-sighted, like in the old legends."
  
  The predatory appearance, the shadows swirling around the black wings...all of it felt unnatural.
  
  "Leave," Rachel ordered before repeating it. "Leave! This is my home, and I didn't invite you!"
  
  "But you did, Rachel," the bat monster smiled, something that felt more frightening than any manifestation of anger. "When you paint the future, you use a tiny fraction of an Oracle's power. The more you use it, the more my Sire was able to hear from you."
  
  "I will shut the door in his face, then! Get out!"
  
  Nocturna snorted.
  
  "I will get out, dear. Because I feel you and I can't have a proper discussion right now. But I will return. And when I will, you will have no choice but to listen. You are a future Oracle. And the Sun can't-"
  
  "Get out!"
  
  Shadows danced, and there was an animal shriek.
  
  Rachel closed her eyes, as the world seemed to go mad.
  
  When she reopened them, the young redhead was alone in her Art Room, and there was no indication anyone had ever been here but her.
  
  19 March 2007, Amazon Headquarters, New Constantinople, United States of America (de jure)
  
  To be painfully honest, Dakota had expected some vile accusations, several hours of hard bargaining, scowling on every face, a certain grinning Demigod promising he would steal everything he couldn't buy, and hints of spectacular betrayal on top of everything.
  
  Instead, Perseus Jackson had delivered a large blue folder to Reyna, the daughter of Bellona - who also happened to be his lover and girlfriend - had announced a price of forty thousand Drachmas, and the son of Poseidon had just nodded, with not a word of bargaining uttered to begin with.
  
  It was rather...underwhelming.
  
  "You seem to be gaping, my drunken lieutenant."
  
  "I...yes. Are you sure you're not an impostor? The old Perseus Jackson would have stolen half of the depot while delivering a flamboyant monologue."
  
  "Something of the sort may have been planned several days ago," there was an ironic expression, of course. "I didn't give it much thought."
  
  "Seriously?" the son of Bacchus thought he would be forgiven by millions of souls if he said he didn't trust that affirmation.
  
  There was a theatrical sigh.
  
  "Dakota. No matter what you may have heard about me before-"
  
  "You stole several times from Amazon properties, and you also may have been in some sort of insider trading, costing them a lot of money?"
  
  "Absolutely rude and nonsensical accusations, I assure you." Perseus' grin widened for a few seconds before going back to a more 'reasonable' expression. "I am just going to say that when all those unfortunate events happened, my personal residence wasn't on the doorstep of the Amazon Headquarters."
  
  Ah yes, that explained some of the 'prudence'. But it didn't provide facts for the foundations of this orderly behaviour.
  
  "And?"
  
  "And Annabeth was aghast at what she calls my 'decision process'." The Drakon-Slayer showed an uncharacteristic defeatist face. "She didn't exactly agree that 'I want it because it's funny' results in excellent purchases. So my initial list suffered some significant changes. And it wasn't ready until this afternoon."
  
  "You're letting her decide in your stead?"
  
  Dakota had known Perseus was rather serious about taking the daughter of Athena as one of his girlfriends, but he hadn't imagined he would give her that much authority, especially on magical items' purchases. The leader of the Suicide Squad loved his prerogatives when it came to the exotic and dangerous stuff.
  
  "Dakota, if I named her my chief of staff, it's because I have faith in her organisational capabilities. Otherwise I wouldn't have named her in the first place."
  
  That made sense...he supposed.
  
  "And of course, the Amazons right now have a lot of things only they can provide, now that I'm 'assigned to residence' at New Byzantium for an indeterminate period of time. Without the ability to stroll in other shops and acquire things by myself, Annabeth's strategy seems to be the boring but correct one."
  
  "Yes, it is."
  
  "Thank you for the vote of approval."
  
  Perseus Jackson nodded in an absent-minded manner, which was unusual for him.
  
  Then again, there wasn't much to be impressed around them. The rank-and-file battalion of Amazons had led them to one of the hangars that had yet to be filled with anything important, and the result was bare halls, a trio of large mechanical excavators, some cars, and other stuff that wouldn't impress Questers in the least.
  
  "Your relationship with Annabeth can be summed-up as 'whipped', then."
  
  The red eye immediately glared back, and Dakota's taunt died in his throat.
  
  "Dakota, I will not make too many jokes about your position about your position as Consort of the Amazon Queen, nor what I will ask how you were initiated when Hylla took her crown. In exchange, you will not ask what Annabeth and I are up to. Nod very quickly if you approve this arrangement."
  
  Dakota nodded very quickly, as the air seemed ten times heavier.
  
  The Amazons around them of course giggled and laughed, the traitors.
  
  "Good!"
  
  "Once again, the males prove they know the wisdom of letting a woman in charge!" An Amazon bellowed with everything she had in her lungs.
  
  It was a very bad idea, for now she had the full attention of Jackson for herself.
  
  "Had I mentioned before, my drunken lieutenant, that the Amazons were originally exiled from Sparta?"
  
  "Err...no, I don't think you did."
  
  The effect was rather clear, though. The Amazons had all stopped laughing.
  
  "Oh yes, indeed. This was rather well-known in the times before the Trojan War. You see Aphrodite is the one who founded the city in the first place, to ensure there was some bastion where the best monster-killers could properly gather, lust for each other, and of course-"
  
  "That's enough! Jackson!"
  
  When two or three swords were drawn, it was better to take a few steps back, and let your 'awesome' leader take the heat for everything he did.
  
  No, it wasn't courageous.
  
  Yes, Perseus Jackson probably deserved it anyway.
  
  "And that's why when they rose the levels of the Mist, Sparta's fame crumbled," Jackson rolled his eyes. Dakota didn't miss that the weapons were sheathed again, though. Or that the visages of the Amazons were far more respectful. A message had been delivered, in a very blunt and decisive manner.
  
  "They were unable to transform to a monster-hunting force to a conventional army?"
  
  "They couldn't adapt, Dakota," Perseus corrected gently. "When you erase most of a city's history in one blow, the scraps you have left are a poisoned pill. In a way, it would have been better to turn all of them into amnesiacs. To make it worse, Sparta never fielded significant numbers, attrition is taking a toll when you are involved in Demigod business."
  
  Translation: something incredibly bad had happened in ancient times when it came to Sparta, and it certainly was one of the reasons Aphrodite had preferred her pacifist aspects for so long before the Master Bolt was stolen.
  
  "Reyna is returning. I don't think you will get your full order before the two weeks are out." And yes, given the levels of unease around, Dakota was changing the subject.
  
  Let someone who had ensured the fury of Perseus and the Amazons alike cast him the first stone.
  
  "It was taken into account, and I have no problem with it." The son of Poseidon assured him seriously. "Of course, now it is going to be the time to speak of the second issue, which are naturally vital, boring, and not my cup of tea, as the British would say."
  
  Perseus Jackson should have been a comedian, Dakota acknowledged, he would have already won several Oscars at Hollywood.
  
  "I speak of course, of logistics."
  
  22 March 2007, Winter Stadium, the Snow Frontier, New Byzantium
  
  There had been much gossip, Jade knew, which was the winter sport where Jackson would excel the most.
  
  Plenty of members of the Suicide Squad had not hesitated gambling a few hundred of their hard-won Drachmas for the occasion.
  
  A significant majority had pushed for snowboarding, in the end.
  
  It was a relatively sane choice; Jackson had already proved he could surf on the waves like he was born on a surfboard, and snowboarding was relatively close, except you did it on the snow.
  
  After that, in decreasing number of votes, the choices had been: Ski Jumping - because the son of Poseidon certainly wasn't afraid of cliffs - Alpine Skiing and Skeleton.
  
  Unfortunately for all these gamblers - and no, Jade wasn't among them, she knew better than to bet on anything which involved the leader of the Suicide Squad - they were all wrong.
  
  It seemed the answer was: Curling.
  
  Yes, Curling, the Champion of Khione was as surprised as everyone else by this.
  
  How much Jackson excelled? Well, today's tournament finals had just decided to broadcast the score:
  
  TEAM JACKSON-CHASE: 10
  
  TEAM LA RUE-NAKAMURA: 0
  
  And no, before someone tried to spread some lies, Jackson hadn't used a single one of his Demigods' skills. There had been no Charmspeak, Hydrokinesis, or one of the myriad of skills he possessed.
  
  It appeared Perseus Jackson was just that naturally talented when it came to Curling.
  
  "This is an excellent way to sharpen tactical and strategic acumen, and to say I didn't even know of the sports' existence until recently!"
  
  No, by the standards of one crazy Demigod, this didn't qualify as 'gloating'. Not very much, anyway.
  
  "Jade, with me, we have some serious things to speak about."
  
  "More Curling Tournaments for me to organise in the future?"
  
  While she was not playing a role in the maintenance of the different facilities, her Goddess had made very clear she was to be the Warden of the Snow-Ice Enclave - which had yet to receive a proper name, by the way.
  
  "That always was a given, but at the risk of angering you, this is more of a hobby than a first-class priority."
  
  Jade was neither angry nor really surprised.
  
  The words weren't offending, and besides, watching two penguins trying to skate was good for laughing a lot at the moment.
  
  "No, I wanted to speak about Drakons."
  
  Jade grimaced, and she didn't care if the other Demigod noticed.
  
  Yes, she had plenty of Drakonic essence inside her now - a fact she was easily reminded every morning, for when she was unconscious, her attempts at presenting a human appearance to the outside world failed.
  
  She was the Champion of Khione.
  
  She was far more powerful than any Huntress, and to be honest, Jade was rather proud of that.
  
  But.
  
  Jade had never forgotten the size of the God-Beast Jackson had slain.
  
  Fimbulvetr had been a colossus beyond your imagination, a true Kaiju-sized nightmare.
  
  It wasn't difficult to imagine how entire teams of heroes had been wiped out by this malevolent monster.
  
  "I seriously hope," the ex-Huntress began carefully, "that your idea of a 'holiday' isn't to prepare us for a merciless duel against a Drakon of your choosing."
  
  "I think plenty of my lieutenants would stab me during my sleep if I was foolish enough to try that, no?"
  
  Oh yes, and they likely would add some tortures beforehand...
  
  "But no. I am not going to lie to you: fighting a Drakon is a tall endeavour, and I would prefer if we could wait a decade or more before fighting the next one."
  
  The tone implied very much that wasn't going to happen.
  
  "You just don't think we are going to be so lucky."
  
  "The Council of Olympus didn't find any clue where the other two Primordial Drakons hid after we dealt with Fimbulvetr, Jade. And we have a 'Sire of the Drakons' scheming somewhere, free and at the apex of its powers. What does it suggest to you?"
  
  Evidently, seen like that...
  
  The memories of the Ice Drakon roaring and irradiating lethal ice power flashed back, overwhelming everything.
  
  At that time, Jade had been convinced that they were all going to die.
  
  "No offence, but I hope you are wrong. It really took a series of miracles for victory to be possible."
  
  "I don't take any offence," Perseus assured magnanimously. "It is, after all, the painful truth."
  
  When one of the most powerful Demigods of this generation, if not the most powerful Demigod, told you that, you clearly knew how bad things had unravelled in the Forge of All Perils.
  
  "Wonderful. Wait a minute. Weren't you the one who told us that the Ice God-Beast was the weakest specimen of the three?"
  
  "Yes, yes I did. And I stand by my words."
  
  Well, this was honestly terrifying.
  
  Yes, plenty of members of the Suicide Squad had gotten stronger since that battle, and many had not participated in the slaughterhouse against Fimbulvetr, but Jade wasn't a fool.
  
  That kind of battle was just murder.
  
  Jackson had not intended for Douglas Smith to die like he did, yet the son of Volturnus had died all the same, pulverised in a single attack of the Primordial Drakon.
  
  Titans and Titanesses could be more dangerous, but the God-Beast had carved a mark upon everyone's mind, one you couldn't forget, no matter how much one tried.
  
  "You really don't think the Suicide Squad will be able to avoid that kind of fight."
  
  "This world has many strange rules, but the stories of the 'Rule of Three', alas, have proven beyond doubt they are active and plotting for our doom. And I don't believe imitating ostriches and putting our heads into the sand is a fine strategy."
  
  "You want me to act as an intermediary. You want as much information as you can from my Goddess."
  
  "At the moment, with plenty of Olympians unwilling to open their mouths and spilling some secrets, the Goddess of Snow and Hell Winter is definitely my best option, to not say the only one."
  
  "Your divine siblings aren't an option?"
  
  "The Drakons aren't sea creatures, Jade. And when they wander near water, in general, the sea monsters are ending up as sea food, which is not exactly the kind of lore I'm interested into. I have no intention to end my life as a mini-sushi for a Primordial Drakon."
  
  "I support, vigorously, that stance." The Champion of Ice and Ice Drakons answered in a heartbeat. "The help is not going to be free, assuming it is delivered."
  
  "Something tells me that resurrecting the entire Suicide Squad because one of the legendary Drakons killed us all would be a tad more expensive. Not to mention inconvenient for all those of us who aren't Champions of the Hell Queens."
  
  Jade supposed that as bad as the humour was, it carried an excellent point.
  
  "I will deliver the message. But don't expect a quick and rapid answer."
  
  In the distance, a penguin crashed against the barriers of the ice skating ring.
  
  23 March 2007, the Dinner Camp, New Byzantium
  
  All the officers of the Suicide Squad could eat inside their respective Palaces now, but it had to be mentioned that every evening, no matter how far away the Enclaves were from the Barracks, they returned to dine with the other Questers.
  
  It wasn't just for the companionship.
  
  Perseus knew that when it came to his own residence, variety factored very much into it. Yes, he liked fish, sea food in general, and algae substitutes, but there was a moment when you wanted a nice piece of venison, some fries, or something that had been produced on land.
  
  The Atlantean Enclave couldn't offer him that. And while it was pleasant to enjoy silence and calm at dinner, the immense dinner hall felt prestigious and augustly empty when he used it with Annabeth.
  
  Yes, it was far better dinner to eat with the other Questers. You could bribe your way to have a 'special table', and the conversations were worth your time, in addition to the excellent food.
  
  Tonight was no exception.
  
  "I could have won, you know, if you had left me."
  
  "Is this a sign you have more megalomaniacal ambitions, Lady Bianca di Angelo? Or are you talking about my past victories of the noble and divine game known as Curling?"
  
  "Don't let your triumphs go to your head," the daughter of Hades bit back.
  
  "Says the woman who took the ruling name of Triumphant," yes, it was cheeky of him. No, Perseus didn't care.
  
  "Can you be serious for a significant amount of time?"
  
  "That entirely depends what is the value you are ready to give to the word 'significant', I suppose." The black glare was particularly impressive, though the former Dread Empress should learn to change the colour of her eyes, it would make the display more formidable.
  
  "Olympus has ceded the initiative to their enemies."
  
  "That's not entirely fair," what world they lived into, that he had to defend the strategy of Olympus. "They're still trying to hunt the Drakons, the Coalition Lords, and the Triumvirate Emperors. Not necessarily in that order, mind you."
  
  He smirked.
  
  "And as much as I want to blame them, all of the big players hid as fast as they could once Commodus died and the entire Adjudicator Game blew up in their faces. Some had gone to ground before this, of course."
  
  It was really difficult to locate with precision an immortal being in this world, assuming said target had some modicum of talent. Prometheus, to name just a prominent example, was infamous for being able to take a quasi-human appearance that released ridiculously-low levels of divine energy. If you weren't in front of him, it was likely you wouldn't be able to tell. And that assumed he had not discarded his tuxedo and embraced a new look once he had finished the 'Commodus Business'.
  
  "I just feel I would have done way better than them."
  
  "You would have burned half of the world, Bianca, and united the other half against you."
  
  The former Tyrant gave his superior in Villainy a dry expression.
  
  "I will give it to you, with you as Queen of Hell ushering a new reign of darkness, the Triumvirate and the Coalition wouldn't be hiding. Of course, they would likely have made an alliance with Olympian factions right now, in order to make sure your defeat came as fast as possible."
  
  "I don't know if I must be flattered or offended by the implications."
  
  "Both?" Perseus guessed as he saw Annabeth singing next to the bonfire with Drew and Miranda. "Yes, both sound right."
  
  A loud groan 'rewarded' Perseus for his above-average conversational skills.
  
  "Olympus is doing important things, whatever you might think. Tracking monster migrations, purging abnormal energies from ritual sites which could serve as mustering grounds for enemy hordes-"
  
  "They could gather a special task force combining Questers, Legionnaires, and Gods, which would deploy once things will go to Hell. Again."
  
  "And who would you recruit for this group, your Dreadful Majesty?" He asked with a mountain of sarcasm behind him. "Olympus has very good reasons to exclude every Demigod and Demigoddess who ever joined the Suicide Squad. For the Legionnaires, they're just not trained for something like that. Bringing immortals next to mortals is something intolerable for some factions, beginning with the current King. As for their hypothetical reserves...you do not commit them until there's a crisis."
  
  Perseus threw her an apple, which she caught without looking.
  
  "Let's face it, at this point, Olympus doesn't trust three-quarters of its heavy hitters, and of those who are too weak to represent a danger to them, they are manifestly unsuitable for the kind of work which might be required of them. As for ourselves, we don't have the resources or the firepower to spend everything we have in a careless manner."
  
  Their divine parents may have let them receive more money and prizes than Demigods received in a lifetime, but there was oversight above their heads.
  
  If someone let the power go to his or her head, there would be consequences.
  
  "I would still send a minor Quest to re-enter the Lotus Casino of Las Vegas," Bianca said, playing with the apple.
  
  "Too dangerous, and besides, with my first 'raid', I think they certainly moved away everything of importance, save perhaps money."
  
  "It is still worth a...hey!"
  
  The 'hey', for the record, was Thalia Grace arriving and stealing the apple from Bianca's hands.
  
  "This was my apple!"
  
  "Not anymore," the daughter of Zeus smirked nastily, and bit deeply into the fruit.
  
  "Someone didn't pour enough poison into your drinks, you-"
  
  "You Callowan? Yes, and proud of it. I am a Villain, I am not a butcher, Triumphant."
  
  Oh right, did he sometimes mentioned that now, about one evening in three, the evenings were the scenes of deep Praesi-Callowan rivalry?
  
  And yes, by which he meant that Thalia Grace and Bianca di Angelo were fiercely bickering with each other.
  
  For reasons that were rooted in their pasts and their lineage, the two had taken instantly a deep dislike for each other.
  
  Though 'dislike' may be a weak word to describe the animosity ruling.
  
  The shouts weren't long in coming, as were the insults and the insinuations.
  
  Perseus wished he could stay here, and enjoy the show, he really did.
  
  Alas, it was not to be.
  
  A leader's duties never ended, no matter the hour.
  
  "Nico! You complained for an entire week I wouldn't let you join the Suicide Squad's strategic meetings, but I think you qualify for tonight's most devious plan..."
  
  The young son of Hades gave a hesitant look in his sister's direction, but of course, Bianca was far too busy accusing the former Queen of unnatural relationships with goats.
  
  "I'm with you. Is it important?"
  
  "It is, oh it is," Perseus replied solemnly before cackling.
  
  23 March 2007, a Small Copse of the western land claimed by New Byzantium
  
  Grover didn't like this copse.
  
  Yes, the young Satyr had acknowledged some of his brethren called it a 'grove'.
  
  He didn't.
  
  There was bad taste and bad puns, and some things worse than those offenses to Satyr dignity.
  
  And there was still the main problem.
  
  There weren't a lot of copses at New Byzantium, and the same was true for New Constantinople on the other side of the river.
  
  It was true there were more trees on the Greek side - the Romans only favoured trees to stabilise the approaches of their roads, and the fruity ones they wanted to use to cultivate delicacies from.
  
  That didn't mean there was a real forest which could be used as a refuge.
  
  Or rather yes, there was one, but it was part of the Enclave Artemis had just created for her Huntresses a month ago.
  
  Grover was honestly puzzled why the Lady of the Moon had bothered expending her radiance for something like that.
  
  Of course, yes, Grover supported every move which increased the size of the forests across the world, and especially something that led to Nature being reinvigorated.
  
  But when he watched the empty forest from a reasonable distance - it wouldn't do him any good to be acknowledged as a trespasser - the young Satyr couldn't help but feel melancholy.
  
  Some birds had made their nests, and a few colonies of insects had made their home here, but that was all.
  
  The Enclave was a monument to Nature...abandoned Nature. And it hit too close to the accusations of-
  
  No, Grover wasn't going to let himself poisoned by the heretical whispers of a certain Demigod.
  
  Like the four other Satyrs of his age which had been sent to New Byzantium, he waited silently.
  
  His patience was soon rewarded.
  
  As obscurity dominated and the lights of unblinking modernity remained out of sight, the moon rose, and the ancient carved stone in the middle of the trees began to sing.
  
  One by one, the young Satyrs slightly cut their right hands, and let a few drops of blood fall upon the sacred site of pilgrimage.
  
  One by one, their offering was accepted.
  
  Flowers blossomed and Nature grew more vibrant.
  
  "We have renewed our vows to the Lord of the Wild, the One Who Will Return. We know we are not yet worthy yet to be called Searchers. Mighty Cloven Ones, guide us towards the Truth."
  
  They were five, and they all kneeled.
  
  Soon the stone began to shine the shade of fresh sap, and the image of Silenus, Greatest and Most Revered of the Elders, appeared in front of them.
  
  "The Blessings of Nature upon you, Aspirant-Searchers."
  
  "And to you, Elder Silenus."
  
  Unlike them, the Great One who had taught a young Demigod called Dionysus was no longer young; both his beard and his hair had long turned white. Grover was not of his clan, unfortunately; if he was, he would have had horse hooves, and equine tail in addition to the appropriate blessings.
  
  Still, there were all Satyrs searching and-
  
  "Has the God finally rectified the unbearable situation?"
  
  They all looked at each other for several heartbeats, yes. Who wanted to be the bearer of bad news?
  
  And yes, like in many previous occasions, it was Grover who 'took one for the team', as the saying went.
  
  "I am afraid not, Elder. The God of Wine, your once-most-favoured pupil, remains totally unconvinced about the Great Matter."
  
  "And the Arch-Heretic of the North has shown no sign he ever intends to recant his vile heresies, I suppose."
  
  "No, Elder," Grover confirmed.
  
  His lips burned, but he preferred to shut up. There was no way he was going to tell Elder Silenus that the crazy Demigod had taken it as a badge of honour.
  
  "Then the situation is far direr than we imagined. The defiling of Arcadia by the Great Serpent already did catastrophic damage, but this...this blasphemy threatens to disrupt entirely the efforts of all Protectors to return Nature to its former heights. Something must be done!"
  
  Grover nodded, as did his four other companions.
  
  Of course, he also saw the same discouragement in their postures and auras. Yes, the Arch-Heretic was a blasphemer and his lies had to be stopped.
  
  But what could be seriously done?
  
  Outside of certain highly specific circumstances, such as arenas and war games, violence was prohibited, and in many cases, the target wasn't present in the first place.
  
  And truthfully, Grover didn't think five Satyrs could do anything against such a powerful madman, whether they surprised him or not.
  
  They were defenders of Nature, but they were Satyrs. They weren't forged to fight and survive the toughest battles of a Great Quest.
  
  "Something must be done, and the unthinkable must be tolerated, in order to rid the world of a great peril."
  
  "Guide us with your wisdom, Elder Silenus." They chorused in perfect synchronisation.
  
  "Tomorrow, you will contact the Huntresses of the Moon," the white-bearded member of the Cloven Hooves. "You will convince them to return to New Byzantium, so they can proclaim an Edict of Banishment against-"
  
  "Or, in fact, you will not do that," a young voice interrupted.
  
  Grover turned his head, and he almost collapsed in fear, for the night seemed alive, and a Titan of Darkness had manifested, towering over them.
  
  It was obscurity made flesh.
  
  It was a monster come to devour the entrails of innocent Satyrs.
  
  It was-
  
  "BOOOOOOO!"
  
  His four companions fled as fast as their hooves could carry them, all the while the connection with the Elder abruptly cut down.
  
  Grover shouted...and closed his eyes in fear.
  
  It was not often that Perseus felt the urge to facepalm.
  
  Honestly though, this moment really deserved it.
  
  Half a day of preparation, a long hour in front of a mirror to make sure his monologue was perfect...and well, you saw the result.
  
  It had taken a simple shadow illusion to engineer a hasty escape from the majority of the Satyrs present, and their superior - the famous Silenus - had severed the magical connection on his side with indecent haste.
  
  Truthfully, if he had known it was going to end with such an outcome, he would have improvised on the spot.
  
  "Excellent performance, Nico."
  
  "Thank you, Perseus!"
  
  He was going to have a few conversations with Bianca, right? The young boy should not swallow so hungrily the praises for a simple 'good job'.
  
  "Obviously, things didn't go according to the plan, but it is not any fault of yours...I overestimated the bravery of the Satyr species, that's all."
  
  Suddenly, the reasons why the Camp of the Cloven Hooves was at reasonable distance of New Byzantium could find a lot of convincing explanations, none of them glorious.
  
  "And open your eyes, Glover. I am not going to hurt you."
  
  The Satyr obeyed, good.
  
  "Please don't feed me to your Hellhound, mighty Arch-Heretic of the North!"
  
  Oh for the love of-
  
  This was really worth a double-facepalm. At least.
  
  "My dear satyr friend, since you clearly lack a basic of knowledge of some local laws, I will inform you that murders are punished by the Director of the City with incredible severity. As do all crimes, in fact." The son of Poseidon felt curiosity about the words. "Besides, why such a fixation on a single Hellhound? As far as I am aware, she didn't leave the Chthonian Enclave in the last month."
  
  "Because everyone knows Satyrs are the favourite meals of the Hellhound, that's why!" The young Satyr bleated.
  
  "Hmm...I had heard rumours...Nico?"
  
  "Maybe?" he had known a lot of voices less hesitant than the dark-haired young boy's. "I mean, I never met any Satyrs before coming to New Byzantium. And my Hellhound is the only one I ever had the opportunity to pet, so..."
  
  Bianca's little brother shrugged.
  
  "Right. We will make sure no Satyrs are to be in chewing range of our formidable canine friend."
  
  As amusing as the scene would be for a few seconds, the Satyrs had no major sins or unpleasant habits which were worth that kind of torment.
  
  Amusingly, a certain Satyr was finding back his courage now. Understanding that he wasn't going to be killed did raise some spirits, it appeared.
  
  "You arrived too late, fiend!" Grover proclaimed with what was moderately-impressed theatrics. "Your fate has already been sealed! The Huntresses will come!"
  
  Perseus counted up to ten in his head before grinning.
  
  "My dear Satyr, did nobody inform you that the Huntresses are bound to the same laws as the Demigods of New Byzantium when they visit?"
  
  The defiance did significantly diminish.
  
  "Or the minor fact that during the last Great Quest, I departed with nine Huntresses, all given secret orders to eliminate me at the first opportunity?"
  
  In case readers of his chronicles wondered, yes, the sound heard at the moment was a Satyr deflating like a balloon.
  
  "What do you want, Arch-Heretic?" It would have been better if Grover had not half-squealed the last words, yes.
  
  But they were making progress.
  
  Truly.
  
  "I want what every General needs in prodigious quantities before beginning a campaign." The former Tyrant admitted. "I want information. More specifically information about Pan."
  
  "The mysteries of the Lord of the Wild are not for mortals to-"
  
  "Who was Pan, before he underwent his divine Apotheosis?"
  
  It had been a gamble, to speak the words.
  
  Unfortunately, it was one which missed its target entirely.
  
  "This is blasphemy!" the Satyr friend of the heroic trio bleated angrily. "Pan was born immortal! Pan was, is, and will be the true Shepherd of Nature! Pan is!"
  
  "Perseus," Nico began, "the stories about this strange mob-city you always recite to me...did they drink so much Kool-Aid with their propaganda?"
  
  "Oh, my young lieutenant, compared to them, the Satyrs are amateurs."
  
  "It is difficult to believe."
  
  "You have not spoken with the representatives of the Peerless Jewel of Freedom, my young lieutenant."
  
  His eyes returned to the Satyr, who had suddenly ceased his ranting.
  
  "I'm afraid though, I can't let you go back to your superiors and friends and repeat everything you'd heard."
  
  It was kind of sad that the only part of the plan which was going to be used for the prepared purpose was this one.
  
  "Forget."
  
  Grover collapsed and began to drool...a lot.
  
  "Err...is he?"
  
  "I erased the last ten minutes of memories, don't worry." He hadn't the skill to do something better, but he wasn't going to admit here. "For the rest, he will absolutely be fine...as much as a Satyr of his age and constitution is, of course."
  
  The affair had not been a complete waste of time, but once again, it didn't answer his questions, and it ensured he had more making the queue at the end of this mini-journey.
  
  "Let's go Nico, it is time to return to our respective Enclaves and enjoy a good night of rest."
  
  24 March 2007, the Foundations of a Future Temple, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  It may have been a couple of years, but Ethan remembered Chiron once forgetting himself and saying that the children of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades together behaving like wet cats trapped in a leather bag.
  
  This wasn't completely wrong, but Ethan would have rather said it was more the tale of a tiger, a cheetah, and a lioness trapped in some very small prison.
  
  Of course, give him his due, Chiron wasn't a Seer. He couldn't predict New Byzantium would get the unforgettable 'honour' of greeting Perseus Jackson, Bianca di Angelo, and Thalia Grace together.
  
  These were the kinds of mad Demigods and Demigoddesses you only saw once per millennium.
  
  And yes, the daughter of Zeus was just as crazy as Jackson.
  
  She just hid it better...for the moment.
  
  "You profess laziness, but you moved blocks of marble as fast as you could before I arrived."
  
  "Of course I did, oh my eternal friend. I want to fulfil my part of the oath as soon as possible."
  
  There were smiles, because of course there were.
  
  Ethan wasn't fooled, though, and neither were the four other members of the Suicide Squad present.
  
  The black-haired son of the Earthshaker and the daughter of the King of Gods were definitely testing each other.
  
  If they had been great predators of the savannah, they would circle around a carcass, waiting for a moment of weakness before pouncing.
  
  Since they were humans, taunts and queries were the tests.
  
  Only an idiot would miss the tension, however.
  
  "You do not have the manpower you did in your previous life."
  
  "These are big words, from a Demigoddess who tried to cheat through the obstacles in the way in order to get the lore she wanted. I am almost disappointed, Thalia. Did you think the God of Wine was going to get loose lips just because he had emptied one or two barrels?"
  
  A girl gnashed her teeth.
  
  "I wasn't completely rebuffed." The eyes narrowing made it clear that the daughter of Zeus didn't like how easily one Perseus Jackson had found out about this familial audience.
  
  "You weren't acknowledged as worth his time either."
  
  Ouch, that one must have hurt.
  
  "He agreed I was dealt a bad hand."
  
  "Yes, you both had the same horrible father. You have my eternal sympathy."
  
  Ethan regretfully banished the idea of smashing Perseus' head against one of the many marble blocks which were all around the construction site.
  
  His head was certainly too tough for some minor goal to be achieved, like putting some sanity were the sum of intelligence hid.
  
  "You can't do an Irritant campaign once again. It didn't last long before, and if you continue at this pace, sooner or later, you will run out of people to betray."
  
  "Ah, but what if I changed my definition of betrayal?" The grin assuredly could be seen a few kilometres away, and no, Ethan wasn't exaggerating.
  
  "I don't believe you."
  
  "And here I thought-"
  
  "You are still the same scoundrel crippled boy I met before who almost destroyed an entire continent. You think the entire thing as a joke."
  
  "Reality is a joke, your Majesty. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here, reincarnated as children of major Gods."
  
  The expressions and behaviour didn't change. The voices, on the other hand...the voices were getting more and more vicious.
  
  "I could demand an audience to the Council. I could tell them everything Triumphant has done."
  
  "Yes, you could." Perseus smirked. "And you know what? It wouldn't matter. The diplomatic immunity we earned is absolute for an entire year."
  
  "Only for an entire year. It is a short amount of time."
  
  The grin shifted into a thoughtful expression.
  
  "I suppose it is true. But."
  
  Thalia Grace clearly didn't want to let him the pleasure to hear an interrogative 'but' shortly after.
  
  "You forget a detail. You address an audience of Gods and Goddesses. They all have the blood of millions upon their hands. What if they think this is an amusing childish tantrum?"
  
  "They won't."
  
  "Perhaps you're right," the son of Poseidon conceded, his red eye filled with malice. "But there's another problem for you. You see, Bianca di Angelo participated in a Great Quest after her exploits earned her the title of Lightning Thief. She proved useful."
  
  'And you did not' was not uttered, but Ethan heard it loud and clear nonetheless.
  
  "I was trapped in a Pine Tree."
  
  "Then shake off this 'doe lost in the woods' behaviour. You seem to be happy in making big mistakes since you woke up, and the tolerance of the influential beings is not going to be infinite."
  
  "I have more time than you do to Learn."
  
  "Do you?"
  
  "As a Tyrant, you were a Master of No Great Skill."
  
  "Ah, but what if it was always part of my plan? Once again Perseus Jackson triumphs against all odds, blah, blah, and blah."
  
  This time, Ethan was pretty sure he had seen lightning dancing around the fingertips of Thalia Grace.
  
  Naturally, this was the moment Jackson chose to turn around and jump back into the giant hole to inspect the foundations of the future Temple.
  
  "This conversation is not over," the daughter of Zeus snarled.
  
  "Oh, but it is!" the voice of the leader of the Suicide Squad echoed strangely with him surrounded by marble and mud. "Remember, my friend, the law: Inevitable Doom is a finite resource!"
  
  Ethan tried to hide a sigh of despair.
  
  At some point, those two were going to fall in love, or kill each other.
  
  No, the son of Nemesis didn't know which possibility was worse, and it scared him.
  
  1 April 2007, the Forge-Temple Complex, Hephaestus Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Leo would be the first to admit he wasn't exactly observant.
  
  Okay, not observant when it came to anything which didn't involve the Forges, the metallurgy, and plenty of other mechanical stuff.
  
  He wasn't looking around and noticing plenty of things people missed all the time.
  
  But even the son of Hephaestus couldn't miss the large crowd following Perseus Jackson on this bright morning.
  
  "Err...is this an April Fool's Day joke I missed?"
  
  "I wish," their leader gave a genuine wince as he looked back behind him. "No, it is not an attempt to make everyone roll over the grass in laughter. Olympus just realised that in the first weeks, I was still able to evade their vigilance using diverse tricks. As a result, they decided my monitoring didn't need to be subtle anymore."
  
  "Their solution is for an army to follow you wherever you go?"
  
  "Army, army, that's a bit of an exaggeration..."
  
  Behind him, Annabeth Chase coughed loudly.
  
  "Right. There are something like...one hundred and fifty Legacies on a good day, plus fifty or sixty Nymphs and other spirits, and let's say two dozen Dryads providing long-range scouting."
  
  Leo wasn't an expert, of course, but-
  
  "Doesn't that sound...a bit too much? I mean, it will cost them a lot..."
  
  Perseus Jackson shrugged, his red eye closed for the moment.
  
  "They aren't paid in gold, Leo. They get a few coins of bronze or silver everyday for their service. It's not exactly a big chore."
  
  There was something he missed, because-
  
  "They can't follow me into the Atlantean Enclave unless I give them permission," the son of Poseidon explained further. "Which for the record, I have never done for now, and I see no reason at all to consider."
  
  Leo passed a hand in his unkempt hair.
  
  "All...right? I suppose this makes sense why they're here. Although not because you're tolerating them."
  
  "Leo, this crowd is effectively the unsubtle mass of spies sent by Olympus. If I found a way to convince them to walk off and go spend a holiday somewhere covered by a swamp, others would likely take their place within hours."
  
  "And if others spy for someone who is not Olympus?"
  
  The red eye was suddenly staring at him, crimson star of sarcasm and malevolence.
  
  "There is no 'if', Leo. There are boys and girls, and men and women who are reporting to some factions we have plenty of reasons to be wary about. Unfortunately, since most will be reporting to beings we have no way to ambush or interrogate, it is absolutely useless."
  
  That was definitely not something the son of Hephaestus wanted to hear, all right.
  
  But Jackson didn't look worried enough for it to be a big, big problem right now.
  
  Leo supposed it was his problem, in the end. Perseus' problem.
  
  Yeah, this was a cowardly thought.
  
  "Now that is said and done...do you invite us in?"
  
  "Oh, yes! Yes, I give you permission to enter. Follow me, I will make you visit the workshops!"
  
  It was darker inside. It was far warmer too, and with every step, the racketing sounds rose in intensity.
  
  Within twelve steps, the hammering of metal, the roars of industry triumphant, and the screeches of tools bending the ore to their will became the dominant forces around them.
  
  Leo loved it.
  
  He didn't need to be particularly observant to know that Annabeth Chase didn't.
  
  The expression of the blonde was almost frozen into a grimace, which was...not surprising? The Forge was a bit rowdy and messy at the best of times.
  
  As for Perseus, who knew what he was thinking? Leo wasn't observant to guess the emotions raging behind this grinning face.
  
  "You didn't have problem with your heart?"
  
  "None," and hadn't that been a pleasant surprise. "I am able to wield my flames without exhausting myself or burning now. My half-brothers and half-sisters here are perpetually reminding me to sleep a full six hours per night-"
  
  "And they're perfectly right to do so," Chase taught in this annoying tone. "You're immune to your own flames, but forge accidents can very much maim you."
  
  "Err..." no, he wasn't going to mention how an automaton had almost crushed him three days ago before his siblings forced him to respect their schedule.
  
  "I'm sure he has learned his lesson, Annabeth."
  
  Given the way the daughter of Annabeth was muttering, Leo wasn't certain of that at all!
  
  But he wasn't going to open his mouth to tell the leader of the Suicide Squad some argument which was going to lead to more madness.
  
  "Disregarding these minor issues, it is very good the Heart of the Forge functions perfectly and doesn't cause you any problems. Surgery of that importance is beyond most Demigods, and alternatives, at the risk of delivering a bad pun, would rapidly lead you to a realm of hellfire."
  
  "I know." Leo nodded several times.
  
  Was it the moment...oh, well, what's the worst that could happen?
  
  "My siblings are wondering if it could be replicated for others?"
  
  "Are they crazy?" yeah, that was exactly the reaction Leo had expected.
  
  The only minor surprise was that it had come from Annabeth so quickly.
  
  It took her boyfriend placing a hand on her shoulders and giving a pointed look to calm her.
  
  "That's very surprising words, Leo. May I ask what prompted them?"
  
  "Err...well, my siblings knew firsthand what I couldn't do before I left for the Quest. And now, they see how stronger I have become. Err...some of it comes from the skills I gained in battle and repairing the machinery of your super-mega-yacht. But the endurance, the resistance to exhaustion, the ability to create my own super-flames...all of this comes from the Heart of the Forge, right? So plenty of boys and girls are wondering if it can be replicated."
  
  Perseus looked...vaguely interested?
  
  "You already had the ability to create your own flames, Amigo. What the Heart of the Forge did was to give you the ability to withstand the heat and the terrible damage it inflicted to your body every time you used your Pyrokinesist abilities. And yes, it makes you stronger as a side-effect. That is undeniable."
  
  Leo couldn't find in him a way to be annoyed, as it was delivered in a reasonable voice.
  
  "It worked for you, Leo, that is undeniable too. Once past that delicious episode of self-congratulations, I will remind you that you needed to almost die to save your father in order to trigger the conditions he could replace your original heart with the Heart of the Forge."
  
  Leo grimaced. He hadn't forgotten how painful it had been.
  
  "I thought it was that way because it had been in the middle of a battle, without all the medicines and everything."
  
  The red eye glared at him, and Perseus Jackson laughed.
  
  "This is divine surgery, Leo, how in the name of Atlantis do you think it is possible to lessen the pain during the procedure?"
  
  He hadn't any answer to that.
  
  "Anyway," the son of Poseidon clicked his tongue. "This is the lesser problem, honestly. There is a bigger one, and it is that none of your siblings got the Aspect of Fire your father gave you."
  
  "You can't know-"
  
  "None of the children who have celebrated their tenth birthday showed any sign of having a minor gift for Pyrokinesist attacks and burning-smith activities. Honestly, Leo. Do you really think I pulled a random name out of a large hat when it was time to select a child of the Forge for the Suicide Squad's Second Great Quest? I do not leave things to chance."
  
  "Err...I don't remember things like that." Leo said weakly.
  
  "Of course, I am a cunning manipulator, if I say so myself." Annabeth had to slap him before the gloating could get too unbearable. "More seriously, Leo. I am very much certain that for now, assuming we could get more Hearts of the Forge, which I absolutely wouldn't bet a hundred thousand Drachmas upon, the result would be a few hundred of your siblings dead at the end of the surgery. This phenomenal artificial organ is here to stabilise your flames and permit you to use your skills to their fullest abilities. If there is nothing of your father's Fire to use, it is as best a hindrance, at worst a massive danger for the health of a Demigod."
  
  "Plenty of smiths here found the idea rather good," Leo spoke defensively.
  
  Perseus muttered something unintelligible between his teeth, and he was pretty sure a few words were 'they call me mad'.
  
  "Have no fear, though, Amigo! I have a good idea to make sure your siblings stop thinking about these ambitious and incredibly perilous ideas!"
  
  Leo took a couple of steps back.
  
  "If it's an invitation to follow you into another dangerous Quest, they're going to try to murder you."
  
  "Oh, no, I have something more amusing in mind. I call it an 'armament order to replenish my stocks', for a total payment of forty thousand Drachmas."
  
  Leo wasn't particularly observant, yes.
  
  But he hadn't missed that his siblings always complained about never having enough money and resources for all their tinkering.
  
  "You're an agent of craziness...but you already know that."
  
  "I prefer 'mayhem and disorder', my burning lieutenant..."
  
  3 April 2007, Archery Range, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Deciding to go living in the Atlantean Enclave had been a rather easy decision, in the end.
  
  Yes, there was Barrack Two.
  
  Unfortunately, said monument was really impossible to live in the long-term, despite her best efforts.
  
  That had been her intention when she was a Goddess, and in many ways, it shouldn't have been a problem.
  
  Hera had never intended to do the infidelities her ex-husband was so infamous for.
  
  But that had resulted in the place where any hypothetical Demigods of hers finding a refuge being an unacceptable living quarter.
  
  Something could be built to replace it, obviously.
  
  Something bigger and worthy of her.
  
  The former Queen of Gods had the money to throw at the problem.
  
  This euphoria had lasted until one informed her of all duties an 'Enclave Leader' had to do. Things like cleaning up your Palace, paying for the food you ordered, and in effect ruling a very small household.
  
  It wasn't a problem when you were a Demigod and you had a lot of half-siblings. It wasn't a problem if you were a deity, since you could do it with a click of fingers, be it with your powers or by ordering nymphs to do it in your stead.
  
  It was definitely a problem when you were alone and unable to use most of your powers to deal with the problem.
  
  Hera had gritted her teeth, and went to the Atlantean Enclave. The scenery was rather acceptable, and she had gotten a little white-blue house with green tiles.
  
  The expenses were minimal, and she could let her imagination wander to the future palace she would build once her divine might would be part of her once again.
  
  There was, on the other hand, a disturbing drawback.
  
  You had to listen to the ramblings of one Perseus Jackson sometimes.
  
  "Me, personally, I don't think there is such a thing as a good or a bad situation. There is such a thing as an interesting situation, oh yes. If I had to sum my life today, I would say to you it is not this kind of events which makes the spice of life. Just think of it! You could have missed plenty of moments due to loneliness, but instead you were rewarded by watching me offering eternal friendship to everyone. Meetings forge destiny. Friendship too. When you have the intention to strengthen your friendships, you have to ignore thing like little betrayals and vulgar plots, and move forwards, your eyes upon the real prize. It is the beauty of the thing! Of course, sometimes you need to train for it. In these cases, the mirror helps you advancing. I will of course deny having ever used one this morning. But just think of the beauty of life! By joyously embracing the concept of hospitality, the situations of friendship have increased over and over. You have given part of yourself, and love of life has given it back to you! Glory to eternal friendship, woe to loneliness!"
  
  Hera cursed under breath. She wasn't going to admit, but she missed the daughter of Athena. Perseus Jackson usually didn't begin to ramble until she was well out of sight.
  
  One of the ex-Huntresses raised her hand.
  
  "Yes, Jenna?"
  
  "That's kind of...something, but Ellen was just asking in the first place why we had to tolerate wearing these cursed armbands on our forearms. You could have refused the 'mediation' of the God of Wine!"
  
  "I could have, yes," the son of Poseidon didn't deny as all eyes fell upon the 'armbands'. They were huge, and one outwards look could have been convinced they were made of bronze. Naturally, given the power she could feel from them, Hera knew that some other metal had been used below the bronze polishing. "But there are politics at play."
  
  "Politics? You don't act because of politics?"
  
  "Yes. Also known as 'proving Olympus I can be reasonable'. Tell me, Jenna. Between a low-level petty individual and an absolutely petty foe, who do you trust to respect his agreements?"
  
  "The low-level petty one, of course. Wait, you mean-"
  
  "Your ex-Mistress is the absolutely petty foe, yes, in case you had any doubt." The Drakon-Slayer shook his head in a very familiar mocking behaviour. "Honestly, I thought it would be more difficult to present her that way, but one shouldn't complain about the mistakes of the enemy, nor try to stop him from adding more and more to the tally. She incinerated a Hollywood villa of the McLean family two nights ago, in case you weren't aware."
  
  Hera scowled, and she wasn't the only one.
  
  There was vengeance, and there was vengeful pettiness. The power Commodus had stolen for 'Neo Diana' had been returned, there was no reason to commit to such an awful course of action.
  
  "Please tell me-"
  
  "The villa was empty, don't worry," Perseus 'reassured' her. "But I believe you will understand why I am wary of the Goddess of the Hunt, and why I decided to make concessions. Having the Olympians on our side if certain Ancient Laws were to be broken is of paramount importance."
  
  This time it was another ex-Huntress who raised her hand.
  
  "Yes, Kimiko?"
  
  "Do we have to exercise all morning and do this ridiculous archery training?" the black-haired girl yawned in an impressive way, which was also...kind of depressing, really.
  
  "I'm afraid so, yes," of course the bastard was grinning all the way. "It is in the rule of every Enclave we have to do some mandatory militia training, for if New Byzantium comes under attack, we have to answer with all our might! The Enclave training replaces the normal Quester curriculum, and as your beloved leader-"
  
  Kimiko grabbed an arrow, and used her new bow to shoot it almost faster than her eyes could follow.
  
  It was a streak of light purple power.
  
  It was deadliness shaped into the form of a projectile.
  
  The human-shaped dummy of straw didn't get impaled by the arrow.
  
  It was utterly disintegrated.
  
  Hera took three steps back, and even the two other ex-Huntresses gave their companion a wary expression.
  
  "What the hell was that?"
  
  "Nice, very nice!"
  
  You had two attempts to guess who commented these maniacal words, and the first didn't count.
  
  Hera prayed.
  
  Maybe, just maybe, sanity would return. Maybe-
  
  "You see when you push yourself you can channel impressive attacks! Now do it again! This dummy still counts as one!"
  
  Hera groaned in despair.
  
  5 April 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  The computer had come straight from the factories of Hephaestus.
  
  The encryption artefact and the other security devices had been provided - at high price - by the Amazons.
  
  There was a small but vital Telekhine addition which would ensure that anyone somehow managing to evade this would hear the conversation translated in an Atlantean dialect no one spoke regularly in the last two millennia.
  
  Still, there was no such thing as too little prudence.
  
  It wasn't paranoia when there were enemies after you.
  
  "Password?" the automated machine queried.
  
  "The rule of Emus is not the utopia you're looking for."
  
  "Correct. Now asking for the second password?"
  
  "The Kiwis' fierce resistance will protect us from the Emus."
  
  "Second password is correct. Establishing the communication now."
  
  The sole and only screen of the dark room switched on, and after a few screeches, brightened to show Lou Ellen...Lou Ellen having donned nothing but a black bikini.
  
  "Working on your tan, my lieutenant sorceress?"
  
  "I don't want to hear anything from you," the daughter of Hecate huffed. "What's this ridiculous stuff about strange animals?"
  
  "Something I watched on Divine Tube, I of course invoke the right of plagiarism."
  
  "Of course you did. And you seem to have kept Annabeth around too."
  
  "I see C.C's spies try to deserve their monthly pay." Black eyes stared, and Perseus rolled his eyes. "For the moment, Annabeth is respecting perfectly the guidelines you imposed her before leaving. And as I told you before the final Labours, it would be a pity to not use her where orderly mind does wonders. I needed a chief of staff to handle, well, everything I find too boring. And the things I would screw up just because I am a chaotic Tyrant, of course."
  
  "Of course," Lou Ellen bared her teeth. "I note you're not speaking about her performance behind closed doors."
  
  It was hard not to blush, but he had a lot of practise.
  
  "The performance is more than acceptable, though I wouldn't say no if a beautiful sorceress visited from time to time."
  
  "As well you should," the blonde Demigoddess said smugly. "I miss you."
  
  "I miss you too."
  
  This was the problem when you cared about people. In his first life, he wouldn't have hesitated sending some of his Generals away for a long period of time, as long as they returned with plenty of useful skills. Now the 'good idea' had clearly drawbacks, for it ensured they wouldn't be close to each other for several months, assuming it wasn't more.
  
  "I would love to give you a day-to-day sum up of what I have been up to, but I am afraid that to preserve the secrecy of this communication line, it wouldn't be very smart. And you requested an unscheduled line one week before it should have happened."
  
  Left unsaid that Lou Ellen better have a good reason not to respect good protocols.
  
  "I have been given critical information by my half-sister." His first lover confirmed a second later. "Someone has been very active in the backrooms of the crime spheres. They're trying to purchase plenty of data and secrets. And they have one thing in common: New Byzantium."
  
  "What sort of secrets are we talking about? The city, the defences, and the Enclaves within have changed a lot in the last months."
  
  "Everything," that was very bad news, all right. "The knowledge of certain tunnels a few enterprising Demigods use to smuggle quite a few forbidden goods. The knowledge of who is corrupt and who is not among the Questers and the Legionnaires. The schedule of some regular patrols, and the daily activities of the most powerful Demigods, including but not limited to the 'star-performers' of the Suicide Squad."
  
  That was...most assuredly not good, and it was a generous understatement.
  
  "Someone is getting very ambitious," he said quietly.
  
  "When you say 'someone'-"
  
  "It is most likely the Coalition, yes."
  
  The Triumvirate could be a possibility, but while they had the money, they certainly hadn't a fraction of the firepower to stand up to two Legions and several thousands of Demigods, Legacies and other descendants of the Olympians.
  
  "However, I have real difficulty believing they could pull it off." The son of Poseidon continued. "To begin with, we're practically on the doorstep of Olympus. And while some Gods and Goddesses won't care if we come under attack, many will, and the Ancient Laws grant them the right to defend the city and everything within its boundaries, as long as the Demigods are the invaded party."
  
  It was why several times, other Pantheons had done their damn best to instigate a Civil War between Greeks and Romans in the past. It had worked in a few instances, but these days, the chance of it working was dramatically low.
  
  "That would mean the Olympians wouldn't be in position to intervene before springing something like that."
  
  "I sincerely bid them good luck," he said without a single drop of irony in his voice. "The only real scenario where the King of the Gods demands everyone to rally to his side is a direct attack on the Divine Domain of Olympus himself. Obviously, that would mean the minor problem of generating a feint or a real attack that can keep a minimum of twenty to forty highly powerful deities incredibly busy for several hours. I don't think such a force exist in the world at this moment."
  
  Most of the Titans were imprisoned, the ones who were not had no intention to do something so egregiously stupid.
  
  As for the Giants, as Alcyoneus had showed, the only reason they were so tough to beat was that the Gods and Demigods had to work together to deliver finishing blows. Once you knew that weakness, they were not that big of a problem.
  
  "This is still very surprising and critical information. Well done, Lou Ellen."
  
  "Thanks," the daughter of Hecate's smile didn't last long. "You weren't expecting this move."
  
  "I did not," he admitted sincerely. "Before your call, I was more of the opinion they were going to try to capture an Olympian for their purposes."
  
  "I can already hear you complaining about the splendid lack of originality, Perseus."
  
  "You know me so well, Lou Ellen."
  
  He snorted.
  
  "But if we forget the minor issue of suing a certain Titan for plagiarism and awful scenario-making, it would truly be a continuation of what they engineered when they funded Commodus. It blew up in their faces on the last day, it cost them a lot, but they survived the ordeal with only ruffled feathers."
  
  "I pray you are wrong."
  
  "In many ways, so do I," Perseus admitted.
  
  There would be very, very disturbing issues about...about everything, if it held true.
  
  Python was a cold-blooded monster, no pun absolutely intended.
  
  If the Sire of the Drakons truly was not slithering towards a path of revenge, there were massive headaches coming, and the worst part was that he had no idea how badly it was going to detonate.
  
  There were just too many things he didn't know, and there was no way for a Demigod, no matter how resourceful, to obtain this knowledge in time to do any good.
  
  "Give your half-sister my regards."
  
  "I would prefer not to, last time your name was mentioned, I had to transform ten males as guinea pigs 'just so I knew how to deal with you and just in case'..."
  
  Ah, yes. The good old threats of Immortal Sorceresses were thrown at his feet.
  
  Everything on that front proceeded according to the plan.
  
  7 April 2007, the Garden of the Hesperides, somewhere at Sunset
  
  Finding the Garden of the Hesperides, unlike what some novice Demigods thought, was an extremely difficult task.
  
  It was the Garden of Sunset, as the name implied.
  
  This meant that the Domain appeared merely for a few minutes as the sun set down, and never in the same place for two evenings following each other.
  
  There were places where the Garden never materialised either. It had to be something extremely symbolic, a potent symbol of the West, not as a civilisation, but as a cardinal direction.
  
  And of course, when an entrance was possible, it was hardly in the middle of a city, or near an airport.
  
  No, the Garden only was accessible to certain ancient sites of power, which by a strange coincidence, were in general significant monster lairs.
  
  Lityerses was a veteran Demigod, and he had been nicknamed the Reaper.
  
  He had no doubt this was the Garden attempting to kill him, and every Demigod trying to reach the destination.
  
  "Too late to turn back now," he muttered to himself while cleaning his blade in the nearby grass, before beginning to climb the seemingly normal stairs.
  
  This feeling didn't last long.
  
  Before he had the time to breathe for a dozen times, the landscape changed.
  
  Gone were the ruins in the background, and the large trees, what was now offering itself to his eyes was paradise.
  
  There were then thousand flowers as far as he could see, and all of them seemed to be suitable the most divinely exquisite bouquets.
  
  The grass shimmered, and the trees were laden with the most succulent fruits.
  
  Everything seemed to point out to this place being a sanctuary away from the poisons of mortal existence.
  
  Everything was delight; the smells, the perfume was-
  
  Lityerses hardly fancied himself an artist, but at that moment he almost wished he could be one, just to be able to sing the praises of the Garden, or paint something that would let other Demigods perceive a fraction of its beauty.
  
  It was-
  
  Lityerses tightened his fists, and made sure his badly-cut nails bit hard in his flesh.
  
  The pain allowed him some clarity.
  
  The world didn't change around him.
  
  The Garden of Hesperides was still the paradise which many would willingly sell their souls to contemplate for a few hours.
  
  Lityerses was able to notice though some small things which had escaped his attention the first time, though.
  
  For example, yes, the fruit trees were absolutely ready for someone to climb and claim a bountiful harvest of marvellous fruity delicacies. If you were able to evade the fangs of the snakes which were playing the role of guardians, that was.
  
  Their silver-black scales were extremely hard to perceive under this silvery twilight and the long shadows it created.
  
  Lityerses allowed himself a thin smirk, before determination once again flooded his mind.
  
  Twice already the Garden's entrance had been denied to him; now that he had succeeded, he wasn't going to race across the world again trying to guess where it would be accessible for a fourth time.
  
  "I wish it could be a bit less dangerous, though."
  
  Lityerses had not been the first Demigod or human to risk the chance this year. That much was clear, now that you saw the bones and the abandoned possessions which were slowly but surely devoured by the grass and the rest of the vegetation.
  
  Visiting the Garden was an idyllic experience, no one would deny it, from the Gods to the mortals.
  
  But for the latter, it was one of the last ones they ever enjoyed before Death came for them.
  
  This was no labyrinth.
  
  There was no attempt to mislead him, or to send him into a pit of monsters.
  
  There was only this single road of black marble, which seemed more ancient than the ones Rome had built at its height to surround the Mediterranean by stone and tools.
  
  She was waiting for him perched on a rock that had been inclined by the fury of the elements long ago, making sure no one could pass nearby unnoticed.
  
  She was beautiful; to the point it was almost painful.
  
  The silky black hair seemed to be drinking from the fabric of the night, while her eyes burned with the lights of sunset.
  
  Her caramel skin seemed as perfect as the Garden around her.
  
  The Greek chiton was white, but was worn in such a fashion it was clear she knew perfectly the effect it would have on any Demigod and Demigoddess.
  
  "Look at that, just another Demigod, who came stealing the famed apples of our beautiful Garden." The tone was playful; the predatory stance was not.
  
  Lityerses had met plenty of Nymphs in two lives; this one was far more dangerous than any other.
  
  "Introduce yourself, thief."
  
  "I am Lityerses, son of Midas and the Goddess of Agriculture." He announced grimly. "And I am no thief."
  
  "And here I thought we could enjoy each other company for so long..." the immortal girl purred like the most deadly feline in the world. "I just avoided warning my sisters, just to have you for myself..."
  
  The eyes burned, and the Reaper didn't miss how the nails of the Nymph of Sunset were lengthening, to the point that in a few minutes, they would be worthy to be called 'claws'.
  
  "But you look a bit more dangerous than the normal intruders. And you didn't lie when you presented yourself. It is only polite I return the favour. I am Aegle, daughter of Endurance and Sunset, one of the six Hesperides guarding this garden."
  
  The smile could have frozen fruit juice such was the intensity of its glare.
  
  "Two of us could have fun outside the Garden when we wanted, but now that the Goddess of Marriage has fallen, the Olympians put us back into the prison. Not that it does concern you, Demigod. Now announce your purpose, I want to see if it was luck or skill which allowed you to enter our home where so many do not."
  
  "I am Lityerses, as I said before," Lityerses didn't flinch, but he watched everything around him, trying to anticipate all possible threats. "I am obeying the orders of my father. Per the oaths that bound me to him, I have come to request an audience with the General of the Titans himself."
  
  Aegle laughed. Some souls could have mistaken it as pleasant, but it was like the whip of cruelty striking mortal flesh to his ears.
  
  "Oh, that's a good one," the Nymph of Sunset giggled, before she realised he was not laughing with her. "Wait, you're serious?"
  
  "I am the Reaper. I do not waste my time saying useless or idiotic things."
  
  The expression changed, and Aegle clearly disagreed with some part of his last sentence.
  
  "You do not know what you're asking, Demigod. My father is imprisoned, cursed to carry the Sky Prison forever, but this doesn't mean he can't kill you."
  
  "I am willing to take the risk," Lityerses replied neutrally.
  
  "You do not know what awaits you," Aegle was not yet in full panic, but the glance she gave behind her told clearly how terrified of her genitor she was.
  
  If it was confirmed, she had his sympathy; he was very familiar with that kind of problem.
  
  "Ever since the Messenger of the Gods came to give his congratulations, my father has been in a foul mood. Calypso marrying...marrying him was the catalyst for an explosion of rage the likes we had not seen in millennia. Turn back, Lityerses, son of Midas. There is only death and disaster waiting for you at the end of this journey."
  
  "I thank you for the advice. I regret that I can't follow it. My orders are more important than your warnings."
  
  Aegle looked at him with something that had never been there before: pity.
  
  "I see an ocean of blood spilling from your wounds, and a Trident stabbing your back, Lityerses."
  
  The beautiful immortal jumped from her seat-rock to land upon the black marble of the road.
  
  "He is now aware there is an intruder in the Garden. Follow me. You still can experience a relatively painless death, in which case Ladon will grant you your wish. Trust me, it is a far better fate than what you will get meeting the General."
  
  Lityerses grunted and followed Aegle, only a lifetime of self-control allowing him to mask his unease, and he had to admit deep inside, a bit of fear.
  
  Author's note:
  
  The Sea of Monsters Arc was finally concluded last chapter, now we can properly begin Arc 3, aka Perseus Jackson and [REDACTED BY ORDER OF OLYMPUS].
  
  Ah my mistake, it looks like certain members don't think you have the need to know that information.
  
  Anyway! The story will continue in the next update, which is to be tentatively titled Dark Times.
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Dark Times
  Chapter 34
  
  Dark Times
  
  I don't think anyone will be shocked by saying Perseus and Luke travelled a lot before finally settling inside the boundaries of New Byzantium.
  
  The leader of our fearsome Suicide Squad was, and still remains, the only Demigod to have visited eight Zones Mortalis before his fourteenth birthday.
  
  Unfortunately, the Garden of the Hesperides wasn't a Zone Mortalis.
  
  And Perseus did never visit it.
  
  Luke did.
  
  Alas, due to some of the monsters he had in pursuit, Luke's visit was incredibly short-lived, and involved only a small part of the entire Garden.
  
  All in all, of the two Demigods who had travelled extensively across the world and explored quantities of haunted ruins, gained a kingdom worth of secrets, and were on several fronts our best sources of lore...didn't know more than the obvious things about the Garden of Hesperides.
  
  That alone wouldn't have caused much surprise around the bonfires.
  
  We were young, and so far, the two Great Quests took place in the Labyrinth, Hell, and the Sea of Monsters. The Suicide Squad couldn't be everywhere.
  
  What we had no idea of, however, was that this ignorance extended to some Gods and Goddesses.
  
  But the enemy knew.
  
  And as Thalia would say openly later, if a trap didn't somehow play up on the ignorance of your opponent, it wouldn't be a trap in the first place.
  
  Yes, that sounded incredibly reasonable when written calmly with a rested head.
  
  I was still volcanically furious these bastards of the Coalition used us to make sure the bait was swallowed hook and sinker.
  
  Extract from short essay We didn't know the Rules by Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena
  
  8 April 2007, the Garden of the Hesperides, somewhere at Sunset
  
  Aegle, Nymph of Sunset, one of the famous Hesperides, was true to her word.
  
  She guided him through the Garden.
  
  The land around them abruptly changed soon.
  
  How 'soon'? Two hundred or three hundred steps? It felt longer, but all his instincts felt wrong.
  
  In the end, there was only following his 'guide'.
  
  The seemingly-pleasant orchards were behind them.
  
  The ruins of a long-abandoned city were below him.
  
  Yes, 'below'.
  
  Aegle and he had arrived on an impressive belvedere, and this was the vision he was greeted with. To go down the escarpment, a winding and particularly dangerous trail slithered down.
  
  "I won't go one step further without his command," Aegle informed him, relief in her voice. "My offer to give you a quick death by Ladon still stands."
  
  "I politely decline your generous offer."
  
  "It's your death, mortal."
  
  Yes, Lityerses supposed it was.
  
  He made a nod of farewell; the Reaper might as well let her have the last word.
  
  To his pleasant relief, the descent was far easier and less dangerous than it had looked from above. The trail was still made of the very stable black marble that his boots had walked upon since he had entered the garden.
  
  This emotion didn't last long.
  
  The second he really walked into the abandoned city, Lityerses was immediately assaulted by a foreign aura of panic.
  
  Only a lifetime spent mastering his mind allowed him to repel this mental onslaught, and even then, it continued, trying to batter him.
  
  "For the love of...what is this?"
  
  Yes, monsters could do that, but the son of Demeter saw none.
  
  After a few seconds, it felt more and more like it was the stones themselves which were creating this ceaseless, unrelenting message of fear, panic, and dread.
  
  It wasn't targeting him specifically; it was just attacking everything in range.
  
  "I would say this would be nothing out of the ordinary for the ruins of Mount Othrys, but..."
  
  The little flaw with this theory, of course, was that the ruins of what had been the headquarters of the Titan Citadel were there, a few kilometres away on the horizon. The torn-apart mountain was eminently recognisable from the description Prometheus had given him. So were the gigantic ruins littered on the slopes of the destroyed rock.
  
  That was Othrys, once the seat of power of Kronos, Titan of Time.
  
  The city covered in grass and moss of different colours that Lityerses was currently walking through?
  
  It definitely wasn't Othrys, unless the Titan's settlements had the power of being in two places at the same time.
  
  No, it wasn't Othrys or any settlement ever made for a Titan.
  
  Speculation?
  
  Not really. While Lityerses knew the Titans could take a human size if they so wished, the entirety of these ruins, from the width of the streets to the top of the ruined marble columns, was clearly human-sized.
  
  From what little he knew about the Titans, Lityerses didn't imagine they would be exactly eager to live and spend their day-to-day activities in a form that brought them 'closer' to the non-immortals they ruled over.
  
  And...
  
  And that was really all that could be said, sadly.
  
  Whatever cataclysm had happened here, it had been total.
  
  There were no recognisable frescoes, statues, or anything to indicate who had been living here.
  
  The style looked vaguely like a mix of Greek and Roman, though once again, dark and filled with dread.
  
  Black marble and dark stones were clearly favoured above all else for this construction. This was not the element-battered white that tourists could admire from Athens to Rome these days.
  
  This was not a city where the Olympians had been worshipped.
  
  Lityerses continued walking, until the black marble itself seemed cracked and prone to failure.
  
  He stopped.
  
  There was no reason to walk further; the General of the Titans was in front of him.
  
  "Hail Atlas, Lord of Endurance, General of the Titans. I am a humble messenger."
  
  It was honestly, like looking at a living statue trying to incarnate brutality.
  
  The muscles everywhere you looked felt incredibly deadly, and yes, Lityerses had met Heracles twice, so he knew what he was speaking of.
  
  The face was brutal, the hands, if they hadn't been busy holding a huge orb of blue and grey, would have been able to snap any Demigod in half in a fraction of a second.
  
  There was no sign of hair anywhere on his body, though of course, there was a Roman-like tunic to preserve the appearances.
  
  This, more than everything, revealed the Mist was preventing him from seeing much.
  
  A Titan had little reason to wear something so...fashionable.
  
  There was no answer, and the Titan's eyes remained closed.
  
  Lityerses was a bit...unnerved.
  
  Was the Titan asleep? Comatose? Or was it just a trap?
  
  "Hail Atlas-"
  
  "I heard you the first time, miserable worm." The eyes opened, and it was like a world of darkness tried to slap him in the face. "I was just waiting to see if you had the self-preservation to prostrate yourself before me. Begging and showing me proper respect may have convinced me to not kill you on the spot."
  
  That didn't begin well. Moreover, no one had warned him of that, not his own genitor, and certainly not Prometheus.
  
  "Let me show you, mortal, a form your pathetic eyes will be able to fear before you perish slowly and painfully."
  
  The Mist screamed.
  
  There was a shockwave, and Lityerses was thrown over several metres like a leave in the middle of a storm.
  
  Pain erupted in his arms and legs.
  
  The Reaper ignored it. He ignored it, because Atlas was getting taller and taller, while at the same discarding the facade of humanity that had been presented first.
  
  It was hideous.
  
  It was the essence of brutality.
  
  It was like a mountain had suddenly decided to walk.
  
  It was absolutely and definitely not human, and it had never been.
  
  Atlas' body was covered in scales, and this was because his appearance was the one of a monstrous reptile.
  
  A reptile that, despite being vaguely crouched to carry his burden, had to be over twenty metres tall, and the monstrous head had a maw which looked like it could devour him without really trying.
  
  The son of Demeter had been really surprised to hear Calypso was once the Titaness of the Drakons. Now seeing that, it wasn't a surprise at all.
  
  "I am a messenger!" Lityerses shouted as the sunset light dimmed and the sensation of dread came from everywhere at once. "The Sire of the Drakons wishes to gain access to the Ivory Labyrinth!"
  
  "Then he is a fool and he shouldn't have sent you," Atlas answered, and his voice now was like an avalanche of rocks provoking a hell of a landslide. "Look around you, mortal! Does this city sound like it can open anything to anywhere?"
  
  "No," the Demigod acknowledged.
  
  "No," the Titan of Endurance repeated mockingly. "You may hold one or several Keys. It will make no difference, if the doors the Keys are supposed to open don't exist anymore."
  
  "Lord Atlas-"
  
  "Be silent, insect! Who does this miserable snake with delusions of greatness think it is? Is it one more attempt to mock me? Do they think I have not been humiliated enough? Do they think I was going to enjoy listening to the marriage of my daughter to the Olympian who usurped my Throne?"
  
  There was a world-ending shockwave. This time he was ready, though. A half-mangled wall served as cover in extremis.
  
  "I can't kill them, for they are out of my reach. But you, mortal, you are not."
  
  There was movement behind him, and the abandoned city was suddenly not so abandoned anymore. Thousands of monsters, most of them reptiles, were rushing to kill him.
  
  Given the numbers, Reaper or not, they had a good chance of achieving it.
  
  If he wasn't at his most convincing now, his second death was indeed going to be singularly unpleasant.
  
  "And what if the city was to be rebuilt? What if a Titan's Game was called up?"
  
  The monsters stopped their advance.
  
  Lityerses stopped hiding, and tried to stay in an unflinching mood right as the irises of pure darkness glared at him.
  
  "The snake was not the only master to send you. Who else?"
  
  "Prometheus."
  
  The reptilian head was not good at showing human-like emotions, but Lityerses could swear an ugly grimace was made here and there.
  
  "Yes. Yes, it reeks of one of my brother's vicious ideas."
  
  There was a loud rumbling sound, and the mountain-sized Titan lowered himself, though the fake human appearance didn't return.
  
  "He's always been the twisted sort. He is smarter than all of us, but he forgot that though we didn't have his wits, we had the power to force him to his knees. Do you know he told the King of Titans to his face that he was going to lose?"
  
  The son of Demeter chose to stay silent. Something told him it wouldn't do him any good to remark that, incidentally, Prometheus had been perfectly right in predicting the defeat of the Titans.
  
  "This is why he needs me. With the King no longer present to call up a Titan's Game, you need the Four Lords, and of course, my brother lost the Domain of Lord of the North to Koios, among many things, when he was punished."
  
  "This can be-"
  
  "No, it can't!" The monsters took it as an authorisation to move, the Lord of Endurance only stopping them after several seconds.
  
  "It can't," Atlas continued in a more reasonable tone...which wasn't that reasonable. "I lost the Lordship of the West to Iapetus when I failed to kill Hestia at the Battle of the Fire Belt. And Iapetus was the one who needed to carry the Sky Prison, in order to magnify his Domain of Pain and Punishment. As for the other Lords, they are far away, imprisoned. I can't call up anything in this position, weakened by the millennia of holding my burden. And there is no way to free the other Lords by smashing the gates of their prisons apart. I'm sure my brother knows it too, otherwise he would have already begun to do it on his own. And in the process, he would have alerted all the Olympians, who would have promptly imprisoned him once more!"
  
  It was in a way somewhat reassuring that his mother and all the other Gods and Goddesses weren't imbeciles. They had really done their best to prevent a repeat of the Titanomachy.
  
  "Well, mortal? Tell me what kind of vicious and disastrous idea my little brother has come up with this time!"
  
  Lityerses tried to not shiver at the sheer hatred there was in those words.
  
  "It is true the prisons of each Titan Lord can't be broken the conventional way," the Reaper said calmly. "But it within your authority and the power of these ruins to send me to Iapetus' Prison. And if I succeed, he will return here. I obviously won't be able to do it a second time, but then-"
  
  "Iapetus will be able to send someone else to free Hyperion while holding the Sky Prison, and this without resulting in every Olympian rushing here." Atlas finished. "Yes...yes it could work."
  
  It was evidence, incidentally, that yes, Demigods could very much accomplish epic deeds where immortals would always fail.
  
  "If you survive, of course, to accomplish your mission and free Iapetus."
  
  Lityerses didn't need to be an Oracle to know Atlas didn't believe he had it in him.
  
  "I have faith in my reaping skills." He'd better to, since it was his life which was at stake here. "And you don't lose anything important if I'm wrong."
  
  According to Prometheus, this attempt couldn't be tried more than once per century and per immortal, but what was that period of time for a Titan?
  
  Atlas laughed.
  
  "You're absolutely correct about that, mortal. Very well. It has been too long since a proper Game was called up...and as you said, if you fail, none of us Titans will have lost anything important."
  
  The sheer malice in these words, needless to say, didn't convince him that the Coalition, and his father in particular, were doing a favour to the world by sending him here...
  
  10 April 2007, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  This was not the first time Odysseus of Ithaca was sent back to the world of the living with a simulacrum body.
  
  This was undoubtedly the longest, though. Usually, it was only for one or two days.
  
  No, there was no need to ask for the 'why'. Hades had just evidently decided that having him next to his Third Queen was unacceptable.
  
  Funny, that. People often joked that the Lord of the Underworld was a passionless bureaucrat.
  
  This rumour-mongering had clearly missed a few things.
  
  Yes, Hades could feel jealousy.
  
  Though Odysseus supposed he was still lucky to work for the aforementioned God, in the end. Hades had given him a simple job and not punished him for something that had not happened. Plenty of major Gods and Goddesses wouldn't have had the same impartiality.
  
  Now that he thought about it again, unfortunately, it was entirely possible it was a punishment. Guarding the Chthonian Enclave was an easy job. Watching over the hell spawn most immortals and mortals called the Lightning Thief was an entirely different matter.
  
  Bianca di Angelo was smart, arrogant, a very dangerous sorceress, and alas, there was zero hope that her megalomaniac ego had been destroyed by a few defeats. Horrifyingly, the girl seemed to have taken it as a reason to train harder.
  
  And she was just one half of the problem.
  
  "I am going to take my leave," he announced after placing the black-coloured letter on the table. As nice as the fountains and the coloured houses were, Odysseus was not going to stay here forever.
  
  "Not so fast," a grinning red eye admonished him.
  
  "I am not an errand boy, son of Poseidon."
  
  And yes, at that moment, he seriously wanted to ask the Earthshaker how drunk he was when he conceived this mad Demigod. Plenty of children sired by the Lord of Atlantis had lost their marbles during Quests, but it was rare even by their standards to be crazy by the time they left their cradle.
  
  "It could have fooled me." Odysseus hated that grin. "I just wanted to ask if you liked my new strategy."
  
  "It isn't going to work." The Guardian of the Chthonian Enclave declared bluntly. "Forcing the Olympians to choose between their siblings and yourself never does. Once the crisis will come, they will present a common front; it has always been that way. Blood is thicker than water, son of the Seas."
  
  "That's...interesting." The red eye continued to stare at him. "But I was telling you about me placing two giant statues before the future temple of Kymopoleia."
  
  "Oh."
  
  Had the bastard done that just to destabilise him? Yes. Yes, assuredly.
  
  "But if you want to speak of greater matters-"
  
  "Most of what I did during the Trojan War and the years afterwards is classified."
  
  "Including the taunting of a certain Cyclops?"
  
  Odysseus felt the urge to curse profusely. This ugly rumour had angered him the moment it had arrived to his ears, but though time had diminished it, one would never say it was pleasant.
  
  "Unlike what some credulous bards believed, I assure you I wasn't stupid enough to insult a Cyclops at sea, especially since I knew well he was a son of the Earthshaker like you are. This part of the legend, Perseus Jackson, bears very little resemblance to the truth."
  
  "That wasn't what I was told by-"
  
  "I don't care what you were told. The only part where you can take solace the bards didn't lie is the presence of Cyclops-bred sheep. I understand you met some of them in the Coliseum."
  
  "Those were Polyphemus'?"
  
  "I am almost certain of it." Odysseus answered with iron-conviction.
  
  "Damn."
  
  It may be a bit of an exaggeration. Yes, the Cyclops was extremely dangerous; those who saw only in him a savage beast were in general not going to live long enough to regret it. However-
  
  "I seriously hope he's not part of the 'tools' the Coalition has gathered around in the last decades. Assuming, of course, he isn't one of the twelve Lords."
  
  "I find it...unlikely. But I am hardly the one who can answer this question."
  
  "Indeed." The grin was back at full strength; though really, it had never vanished. "I shouldn't be surprised by the wisdom of someone having had the courage to marry a descendant of the last War-Queen of Sparta. Just to satisfy my curiosity, Odysseus. Was the reason you stayed true to your vows for so long was because your lovely wife could skewer you with her spear effortlessly?"
  
  Yes, between the Lightning Thief and this Sea Spawn, the competition was hard to determine who the biggest source of trouble in existence was for decades to come.
  
  Yes, he was going to not think of all the bad puns in that single question.
  
  "You are playing a dangerous game, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "The times are dangerous, Odysseus of Ithaca."
  
  And wasn't it the sad and painful truth?
  
  12 April 2007, the Heroic Thermal Complex, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Jealousy was too weak a word to describe what she and most people felt when visiting the gigantic and modern Heroic Thermal Complex.
  
  Thalia supposed it was kind of the point, though.
  
  You were supposed to be green with envy when enjoying the swimming pool, jacuzzis, saunas, the toboggans, and the numerous other activities. Being granted a reward like this one was half of the reasons the Gods found it so easy to recruit people for their Great Quests. Having massive gifts land on your doorstep was of course to be really temptation itself for teenagers and young adults.
  
  Never mind that it was way bigger inside than the outside dimensions suggested, and the diving platform allowed you to go directly take a plunge into the sea.
  
  And when she stopped thinking about it, one of her Rooks had disappeared.
  
  "Perseus, you're cheating again."
  
  "It is not my fault, the black chocolate tastes far too good!"
  
  The former Black Queen despaired internally. She knew taking the black colour was easily predictable, but never in her thoughts had she anticipated that the Tyrant would prepare all her pieces to be eaten the easy way.
  
  Moreover, the white pieces he used were in ivory. You couldn't try to swallow them without significant problems.
  
  Ah well, time to cheat outrageously...again.
  
  "Oh, look, Annabeth is leaving the swimming pool," she said innocently.
  
  It worked. It wouldn't have a lifetime ago, but Kairos Theodosian had not discovered what sex was for then.
  
  For those who wondered, yes, he was mesmerised by the sight of a certain blonde Demigoddess in black bikini finishing her aquatic training for the day.
  
  This gave her ten seconds to steal three of his Pawns, a Knight, and reposition her pieces in a more favourable position.
  
  "The battlefield is certainly changing at a surprising pace while I'm not looking," was the laconic comment as the red eye concentrated again on the three-dimensional chessboard.
  
  A gargoyle chose this moment to unleash an absurdly long tongue. One more black Pawn vanished.
  
  "There are rumours you have been on a massive shopping spree. One including weapons and a lot of equipment."
  
  "It hasn't been that massive." He complained.
  
  She glared.
  
  The Tyrant sighed.
  
  "All right, yes, it was, but I have to remind you that I used an absurd quantity of artefacts and other high-quality stuff during the Second Great Quest. According to Annabeth, without counting the Telekhine ordnance, I used approximately four hundred thousand worth of Drachmas in magical items, armours, suits, and more. This is what the orders I made recently are supposed to replenish."
  
  A White Tower was stolen by an enchanted plant.
  
  It was exchanged a couple of seconds later by a water hand taking one more of her Black Pawns.
  
  "Four hundred thousand Drachmas is still more than what the majority of Demigods will be able to earn in ten years."
  
  Needless to say, it involved her pockets right now.
  
  Perseus Jackson shrugged.
  
  "Considering the absurdly dangerous life I live, replenishing my stocks of distractions, armours, second-hand toys and other tactical feints is the least I can do. Besides, it isn't much of an extravagance. I have now a regular income flow from the Forge of All Perils."
  
  Ah yes, that one. Thalia didn't know how much gold the 'contribution' of the shark-headed monsters was worth every year, but she was forced to revise it upwards.
  
  "Do you think you will need it?"
  
  "Well, I have enemies." They tried each on their side to steal different pieces, only to end up disappointed.
  
  "Yes, I'd heard one of my sisters really hates your guts."
  
  "It wouldn't be too bad if she hadn't a twin brother too."
  
  "You think he would help her? He seemed to me a rather nice immortal." Arrogant, golden, and narcissist, and his poetry, everyone at New Byzantium knew it, had literally fallen far since visiting Japan.
  
  "He is her twin brother. I am not." Perseus said seriously, playing with his White Queen piece. "I am under no illusion that if it comes to a serious crisis, he will choose her side one hundred times out of one hundred. That's why I am very well-behaved these days."
  
  Everyone had noticed that, yes. Aside from working on a training schedule that was properly inhuman - who the hell thought it was a good idea to do weightlifting with giant whales? - and building a temple for his divine sister, the most remarkable things the Tyrant was doing these days were monologues and paying a few Drachmas to track Satyr infiltrators.
  
  "I can't help but think you're preparing a villainous plan," she grimaced as suddenly, a large tortoise somehow found itself in position to try to shake up the chessboard.
  
  "I am terribly wounded by the accusation. You know, your sister is willing to incinerate me if I sneeze the wrong way. And she has enough arrows that at some point, my luck and the protection of Drakonic Blood will run out."
  
  "Useful stuff, that," yes, of course it gave you an 'Achilles' heel, but Thalia had seen what Triumphant and Jackson could do each with the power imbued in their bodies.
  
  They were several levels above 'normal' Demigods now, and unlike the trio of 'Hell Champions', they hadn't had to put their souls into the bargain.
  
  "Very," the black-hearted Tyrant said before conceding the defeat when his last Pawn mysteriously disappeared, leaving his White King completely exposed. "Slaying the Ice Drakon was hard and almost killed me, but I have to say the benefits were worth it."
  
  That there were two of them left was a critical piece of information that interested her a lot, she wasn't going to lie about it.
  
  "Slightly related to the point we were just mentioning," Thalia began eating one of her last Pawns to 'celebrate' her victory. Yes, the black chocolate was very good, thanks. "Have you discovered why my Huntress sister did not fly to the rescue of her followers?"
  
  The daughter of Zeus wasn't going to call them 'Evil Lesbian Cult'. Knowing herself, she would take the habit, and then when the Huntresses would unavoidably visit the camp, her mouth would lapse at the worst possible moment.
  
  "No. Mr D. hadn't the faintest idea. The books New Byzantium has available for purchase didn't give a single clue about this mystery. And while I contacted some of my sources, they were as much as the dark as I was."
  
  "That's very curious." And yes, she had recovered enough of her skills to know the Tyrant was completely honest with her here.
  
  "It is. One might just wonder when it is going to blow up in everyone's face."
  
  The cheerful tone, alas, didn't mean Perseus Jackson hadn't made an excellent point.
  
  15 April 2007, the Secret Base, somewhere under the Atlantean Enclave
  
  Annabeth wasn't surprised that Perseus had requested a secret base to be built under the Sea Palace.
  
  There had to be a place to hide the Inevitable Doom, since the dry dock close to the beach was in reality just a pretense for a massive teleporter, and of course her boyfriend wasn't going to risk the destruction of the Super-Mega-Yacht to the first natural disaster or capricious divine attack which came that way.
  
  "It is still secret only in name."
  
  "Really?"
  
  Perseus grinned as they entered the lift and he pushed a green button three times.
  
  "As much as I really wanted it to be a secret, the bureaucratic work has to go through different Olympians. Mr D. The Lady of Home and Hearth. Your Mother. My Father. That's just to name a few, you understand. All of them would have been able to sniff out something I wrong the moment the work properly began."
  
  The elevator slowed down, before finally stopping.
  
  The first thing the daughter of Athena saw when the doors opened was a large crimson door with numerous gold strange sigils. It also felt...strange. In a way which made her heart beat faster.
  
  "Err...what is this behind this door?" Perseus had already begun to walk through the corridor, evidently not giving a single glance to it.
  
  "The door?"
  
  "Perseus Jackson."
  
  "The sex dungeon Lady Aphrodite generously offered."
  
  Annabeth blushed. She was no longer a virgin, but so far-
  
  "Since we have plenty of ex-Huntresses and of course several members of the Suicide Squad visiting regularly, I argued insistently that it would be placed here."
  
  "Ah..." she cleared her throat. Why did it feel so warm now? "Yes. Yes, it was probably a good idea."
  
  "Glad to hear you agree with my logic. Now let's see what Tyson and his companions have been up too."
  
  The corridor became so large it could largely be called a proper street, and soon important manufacturing ateliers and diverse mechanical shops were as far as she could see. There were a lot of large cranes to transport various machines and ammunition came next.
  
  They used a couple of mechanical stairs, and finally arrived next to the Inevitable Doom, which was surrounded by shipbuilders and more experts in yacht and warship construction.
  
  Clearly, Perseus intended a complete ship modernisation. The Mega-Yacht had not suffered a lot contrary to other hulls involved in the Second Great Quest, but Tyson wasn't taking any chance.
  
  "A pity every Zone Mortalis isn't to be found on the seas." The son of Poseidon said whimsically. "I could order several of them to be built, and as long as I stay in good terms with Atlantis, the oceans would be mine for a few years. Add a few submarines to keep the giant monsters away, and it would be a perfect fleet."
  
  "As nice as it sounds, I kind of doubt it would be as easy as you imply."
  
  The so-called 'Labours of Commodus' had proved there were problems that you couldn't annihilate with missiles the moment you discovered them.
  
  "You're probably right. No, you're certainly right. That said, I don't like the alternatives very much."
  
  "Because they aren't ships?" she teased him.
  
  Perseus cackled.
  
  "This may play a bigger part than I'm willing to admit...but no, ultimately it isn't."
  
  "What it is, then?" the Demigoddess asked. "I mean, I'm pretty sure you have the engineers to retrofit the Inevitable Doom. The Triumvirate did build a flying carrier."
  
  "Without an Aegis-class Divine Shield integrated with its defences, which I'm pretty sure your mother and the Lord of the Forges will never sell me this decade, my Super-Mega-Yacht would not survive long. It must also be mentioned that the King of the Gods tend to have a limited patience for my stunts, and intruding upon his Domain would not do me any favours."
  
  Annabeth grimaced. That was unfortunately very much the truth here.
  
  "Air-based headquarters are out, uh. It's a pity. On the one hand, it would have given us excellent reconnaissance skills, especially if Thalia joins us one day. On the other hand, I'm not sure what kind of thing you can build in order to have a flying headquarters."
  
  "Some Demigods tried to launch one during WWII."
  
  "That's...that was really ambitious of them."
  
  Perseus grinned while crossing his arms in a very smug behaviour.
  
  "It was. Still, they worked for Loki, so ambition was never going to be the problem. They called it the Strategic Ragnarok Bomber."
  
  Annabeth had to make a confession: just the name gave her enough bad vibes to transform a desert into marchlands.
  
  "Other Demigods led a suicidal mission to destroy it during its inaugural launch, though. And the Gods did a thorough clean-up to erase most traces of its existence. These days I think only a few plans remain, under the name 'Amerika Bomber' or something like that."
  
  Could she repeat how glad she was that the other Pantheons weren't around to throw more mayhem into the fire?
  
  They already were enough problems between the Coalition, the Triumvirate, and every other shenanigan this world offered.
  
  "If it isn't a sea-based option, and air-based mobile headquarters are impossible," the Quests were bad enough, doing them with the risk of constant Bolt attacks was worse, "then it leaves only the ground methods of transport."
  
  "Precisely."
  
  "There are...both serious advantages and significant drawbacks." Needless to say, it was a major understatement.
  
  "I know." Perseus confessed. "This is why for the moment, I've commanded Tyson to limit himself to plans and tiny models no bigger than one metre-long toys to give me a list of existing possibilities. The good news is that the technology I can legally buy from Olympus is mature enough."
  
  "And the bad news?"
  
  Perseus gave her a smug expression.
  
  "Obviously, after what I did the first time, it is likely people will take the final transportation choice far more seriously than they did the last time. Meaning the destruction of our new headquarters is quasi-certain to be assigned the highest priority by our enemies."
  
  "They'd be idiots not to," the blonde daughter of Athena agreed.
  
  "Yes. And unfortunately, I fear the fate of Commodus is going to give them a lot of motivation. The screams the Narcissist Sociopath is making when tortured in the Fields of Punishment are absolutely ghastly, let me tell you."
  
  20 April 2007, Manila, Philippines
  
  It pained him to admit, but Lityerses really needed the help of the bodyguards to fall into the seat that waited for him.
  
  All his body was in pain, and several of his injuries were quite bad.
  
  It also must be noted that this was after the Healers of the Coalition had spent more than two hours working upon him.
  
  Without it, the son of Demeter was confident his sword arm would have been amputated before next dawn.
  
  Still, the veteran Demigod was quite aware his injuries were bad.
  
  There was no choice but to hide the suffering all his nerves were communicating to him, though.
  
  He may have been given a seat, but three Lords of the Coalition were at the other end of the room, and that one was his genitor was not going to earn him any favours.
  
  "Is it done?"
  
  "Yes, yes it. I freed the Titan of Pain. He's holding the Sky once more. The Titan of Endurance is relieved of his old burden."
  
  Midas smiled, and it was not one of the fake ones where he let fools think they'd gotten one over him.
  
  "I am quite pleased to see my confidence in you was not misplaced, my son."
  
  As if he wouldn't have been killed in case of failure. Hell, it had been far too close with Atlas in the first place.
  
  A mercenary brought him a glass, filled with some medicinal tonic. Lityerses drank it in mere seconds.
  
  "And the other goals?" Prometheus, Titan of Crafty Counsel, had decidedly not changed at all in the last months. Dark glasses and a tuxedo were still the most remarkable things to tell about him. Okay, those and the scars. The scars couldn't be missed by anyone with the eyes to see.
  
  The Reaper cleared his throat.
  
  "A fountain and some statues of Drakons were rebuilding themselves as I left. And...and Hana, my sister, went to free Hyperion. I didn't stay to observe, per my instructions."
  
  In fact, instructions or not, the son of Demeter wouldn't have stayed to observe. The ruined city had given him a thoroughly unpleasant feeling of 'you don't belong here', and Lityerses had been quite eager to leave it for good. The shocked faces of the Hesperides escorting him out had just been a pleasant bonus at the end.
  
  "Excellent," Prometheus nodded. "It is now only a question of time before the other Titans we wish to free are indeed gathered inside the Garden."
  
  Lityerses wanted to know what made him so confident. The defences around Iapetus' prison had been formidable, and that had been despite the fact half of them had been circumvented via his transportation method. Hana, being brainwashed and trained to be a living weapon, had a chance to survive the challenge too.
  
  The other Demigods? Sending them alone and unsupported was going to result in sharp-edged butchery. There mustn't be a lot of Titans they wished to free...and yet they needed the Four Titan Lords. Or did they?
  
  "But my son succeeded where many of you thought he would fail."
  
  "True, I suppose he is clever." Before this mission, it would have infuriated him to hear them speak of him as if he was a smart dog. Now? He just wished to be allowed to go back to the hospital and be afforded some healing time. "Phase One is done, and the way it was accomplished affords us several months of opportunity."
  
  "Not so much," Midas disagreed. "The Olympians do not often visit, and when they do, they go straight for the Tree and its Golden Apples. But all it would take is one exceptional visit to our good friend to reveal the stratagem. At which point, the plan falls apart."
  
  "I have to agree." Prometheus inspected his glasses and began to clean them. "Then there is also the minor problem that the longer we wait, the more my brother is going to ask himself plenty of questions. He is not as much of a plan-maker as plenty of my cousins and nephews, but he does have a certain cunning to him."
  
  "Yes," Midas snarked, "I would feel extremely happy if he discovered his real importance in your plans after he wasn't in position to do anything against it."
  
  "You're summing up my mood perfectly."
  
  "This means I must send the invitation that isn't an invitation, I take it?"
  
  "And with celerity," Prometheus smiled, as his eyes burned in fire.
  
  Midas clapped his hands before giving his accomplice an uneasy expression.
  
  "I think the Sire of the Drakons is not going to like it."
  
  "You don't think he has already foreseen it?"
  
  "I-"
  
  "He will do it anyway, you realise. Sacrificing the pawns is what he always does. He loves it, as long as he doesn't end up on the altar."
  
  A veil fell, and the third Lord of the Coalition decided to take part in the conversation.
  
  Lityerses at first didn't really understand what he was allowed to watch.
  
  Monster, was his first thought.
  
  Not human, was likely his second one.
  
  The being which had just intervened looked like female, and had an ebony dark skin.
  
  She was thin, and humanoid.
  
  But she wasn't human. That much he was certain of. Oh, with the Mist, this creature looked like very much one of the black-skinned fantasy creatures with white hair and impossible beauty, but it was a lie.
  
  Even by standing here, the son of Demeter could tell it was just a disguise to walk anonymously in the streets of Manila.
  
  It wasn't Nocturna. That much it was clear. The skin was as black as the bat monster, but there were no wings, and no talons.
  
  The pointed ears were shaped like daggers too.
  
  She was wearing an exquisite garment of grey-white silk that gave a sense of ethereality.
  
  The body...the body screamed dangerous.
  
  "Daughter, I am filled with regrets at the idea you think so little of me."
  
  What? Yes, he was gaping, but he wasn't the only one. Many mercenaries did it too, and Lityerses didn't blame them.
  
  Prometheus had a daughter?
  
  "Don't call me that," the female monster opened her eyes, revealing that yes, her eyes were burning like red flames, exactly like the Titan's. "You sired me to score a point, and you were not there the only time I asked for your help."
  
  She turned her head towards Midas.
  
  "What makes you think they will react like you want?"
  
  "We are forcing the Gods to choose between two different foul-tasting diseases." Midas smugly declared. "And we will use the Suicide Squad to sell the one which appears to be the least unpleasant to their divine senses. With the options all bad, they will be forced to act, one way or another. If they don't, we will have to activate contingencies, but we will retain plenty of assets for new plans."
  
  "All we need is to make sure the bait is sold convincingly." Prometheus could almost have played the role of a priest, given how serene and pious he sounded at that moment. "The sacrifice needs to be significant."
  
  The snort of the female monster was evidence some beings were not fooled in the least by Prometheus.
  
  "In other words, you need me to send part of my Cult to your little party, in order to make it credible."
  
  "This would be preferable, yes, Arachne."
  
  He had said...why? How?
  
  No, seriously, what in the name of the Pit?
  
  Arachne, as in the First and Queen of the Spiders? She was Prometheus' daughter?
  
  The Demigod waited for a correction to come, something to be withdrawn, the announcement it was only a ridiculous code-name.
  
  "I won't deploy more than ten of my powerful daughters." He heard instead. "I suppose I can grab a few hundred tools and give them my gift before the agreed date."
  
  Holy-
  
  By the Pit, that suddenly changed the entire context of the 'weaving contest' between Arachne and the Goddess of Wisdom. It changed everything.
  
  "You will be duly compensated for it."
  
  "Stop that. I am one of your peers now, Chairman. I won't let myself be fooled by your honeyed words again. I will commit my Cult. But I want my ransom of flesh in return."
  
  The words began to feel indistinct after that, was it a spell?
  
  "You should call Healers and evacuate your son. He's beginning to bleed again on my precious carpet."
  
  "Yes, you're absolutely right. MEDIC!"
  
  26 April 2007, outskirts of the Forge-Temple Complex, Hephaestus Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  From afar, the cannon simply looked monstrous.
  
  When you were close, it was simply worse.
  
  "One hundred two modes and it can fire at will twenty times per minute."
  
  "They assembled it in less than a month."
  
  Obviously, there was no need to ask who the 'they' referred to.
  
  "It is a weapon no Demigod stands a chance against."
  
  It pained him to admit it, but Jake Mason figured he could be honest with one of his brothers.
  
  "I know." Charles Beckendorf confessed. "But who could have seen it coming?"
  
  "No one," Jake replied with a wince. "It takes a special brand of madman to design a weapon like that. How do you fight against such an armament of corruption incarnate? Whether the Questers are Roman or Greek, no one is mentally prepared to go against a bloody Ice Cream Cannon!"
  
  For those who asked, yes, there was already a huge queue forming. Legacies were speaking to Demigod friends; Questers were alerting Legionnaires.
  
  And in the mean time? God-sized cornets of vanilla and strawberry were 'fired', with over fifty Demigods licking and eating the sugary temptation.
  
  "One entire day of production gone, and all our brothers and sisters will do for the next week is to think of how they can install one in the ateliers," Charles declared with non-feigned sadness. Mind you, he was completely right to be mournful right now. "After all, Summer is coming."
  
  "Summer is coming."
  
  Thankfully, Leo Valdez had not been commissioned yet to build a soda fountain or something as evil and corruptive.
  
  Of course, one couldn't dismiss the possibility that with Dionysus as a patron, the Suicide Squad would go for a wine delivery method, even if everyone knew the laws of New Byzantium forbid it.
  
  "Is it always like this, in the Suicide Squad?"
  
  Jake took two seconds to think about it.
  
  "No, of course not." He drawled, and let a silence of two seconds fall. "It was worse, every single minute of the day."
  
  It also had to be mentioned that his humble membership existed for the First Great Quest only.
  
  "It was already a madhouse when I was around, and it seems they've all become crazier since."
  
  "No regrets, then?"
  
  Jake stretched, and was immediately reminded how much his body had merged with metal now.
  
  "There are many things I regret, Charles. Leaving the Suicide Squad behind me is not one of them." He had doubts some non-Questers would understand how insane it had been, and how little of his pre-Quest sanity had survived. "I was able to pay my debts and take a new start. I got enough Drachmas to begin an entirely new mechanic career. I am...surprisingly fine with that."
  
  Yes, the Great Quest had sharply decreased his life-expectancy. Yes, he had likely burned two years of life, and that didn't include all the 'modifications' his father had made to save his life, and remove the Donkey Curse.
  
  "Some of our most hot-headed Questers think they can get money and fame from it."
  
  This was not the most stupid thing the son of Hephaestus had heard today, but then he had heard one of the rants of Octavian McArthur this morning.
  
  "Money, I can see the appeal of. If you're skilled enough, willing to go entirely crazy, and you pay attention to the orders of the clown-in-chief, the odds of survival aren't that bad."
  
  Yes, Jake was very much aware how funnily some Demigods would look at him if he made a public discourse defending that point of view.
  
  It didn't mean it wasn't true.
  
  He had consulted a few un-classified Great Quests of World War II last year, and in all of them, there were basically ten dead Questers for every survivor.
  
  Jackson, as crazy as he was, had successfully preserved the core of his Quester Group.
  
  "Fame, on the other hand..." a sigh escaped his lips. "The tales are growing, and some 'heroes' are definitely becoming famous. I don't think it is really the kind of fame you want."
  
  Watching a son of Ares throw himself into the giant cornet to faster eat the chocolate ice cream was eerily fascinating, by the way.
  
  "May I ask what brought this interesting conversation, by the way?"
  
  "Silena and I broke up."
  
  "Ah." Yeah, that explained why Charles since this morning looked like a lost puppy. "I'm going to take a guess and say she's decided to focus on more martial pursuits instead of practising her lipstick-making skills?"
  
  "This isn't funny, Jake."
  
  "No, I suppose it isn't."
  
  Though he supposed there must have been a lot of hopes which had been utterly crushed. Many children of Vulcan and Hephaestus had thought that because of certain actions, the children of Venus and Aphrodite were going to accept date offers every time they asked.
  
  It had been, needless to say, a little optimistic.
  
  Apparently, plenty of people had thought of what the effects of their father's changes would do, between the fire and...everything else.
  
  However, not many Questers and non-Questers had asked themselves what kind of changes would emerge within the ranks of Love.
  
  "I know what you're thinking Jake. This is not a bad idea-"
  
  "Charles, if you have to say it aloud, you probably know it is. A bad idea, I mean."
  
  Strawberry ice cream flowed with pineapple and orange. The queue of Questers and other denizens of New Byzantium had to be close to half a kilometre long now.
  
  "It could result in plenty of good things."
  
  Jake gave him an unimpressed glare.
  
  "Look, I like very much Leo, and he's a fine brother. But are we going to pretend he wouldn't have gone down in a blaze of glory long before his sixteenth birthday?"
  
  The answer had to be visible on Jake's face, but he nonetheless tried.
  
  "I won't deny Jackson almost certainly saved our brother's life." Charles smiled. "He did it at the price of most of his sanity and replacing his heart."
  
  The smile decided to take holidays somewhere in Hell.
  
  "You were the one saying the survival chances weren't that bad."
  
  "I said that yes. I never said they were close to zero. People did definitely die. And though I haven't received, you know, a detailed report on everything that happened outside of Commodus' narcissist arena...my gut instincts tells me this Second Great Quest was horribly dangerous, far more than the first."
  
  By the number of casualties alone the Legionnaires had endured, this position was easily to defend in the Forum.
  
  "You're thinking that if there's a Third Great Quest, it will be more dangerous than the First."
  
  "Oh, we're trying to pretend it's a 'if', are we?" Jake chuckled. "Let's be serious, brother. It's a 'when'. There are far too many things the Quest in the Sea of Monsters didn't solve."
  
  Jake would love to think there was going to be peace for their generation, yes. But as much as he worked in his ateliers, he wasn't going to imitate Michael Yew and barricade himself inside a villa, while ignoring everything that happened in New Byzantium and elsewhere.
  
  Behaving like an ostrich and placing your head in the sand, unfortunately, wasn't going to convince the threats to go away.
  
  "Yes, by this logic, the rewards, be they in Drachmas, skills, power boost, or cutting-edge machines, will be greater and more attractive. But if it is the case, it will only mean the dangers waiting for the Questers and everyone insane to follow Jackson will be far greater too."
  
  "This isn't exactly an enticing proposal. To free our father, Jackson and the rest had to fight a Titaness."
  
  "That's why I leave it to a young generation of heroes to answer the challenge," Jake finished cheerfully before walking to join the queue. Damn it, it was getting hot, and he needed some ice cream!
  
  2 May 2007, the Chthonian Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  In hindsight, it had been a very, very bad idea to tell his big sister to teach a magical class.
  
  Oh sure, Bianca was a straight genius when it came to sorcery and all the funny stuff with ancient spells and new incantations.
  
  Unfortunately, as much as he liked her, Nico had to admit the other Demigods may have a point about her lack of patience.
  
  "You are all aberrant representatives of abject nullity! I have encountered plenty of second-hand tricksters with more talent than you! Do you wish to work in a circus? I am exasperated both by the lack of talent and the willingness to improve! GET OUT BEFORE I CURSE YOU INTO OBLIVION!"
  
  Everyone stormed out of the improvised classroom, and Nico was not the last one to do so.
  
  Fortunately for security reasons, there weren't guided spells pursuing the children of Hecate and the other 'aspirants'.
  
  In two minutes, they were all outside.
  
  Naturally, Perseus was here, the Minotaur towering behind him.
  
  Nico for once decided to glare at him, because...because the son of Poseidon was looking at an old-looking watch with an unsurprised expression.
  
  "You," the young son of Hades accused him with a rude finger to make it clear where guilt was due, "you knew what was going to happen!"
  
  "Knew? No. Anticipated the possibility of this happening? I might, or might not have. The tails are rather a nice touch, I believe. C. C. was a bad influence, I see."
  
  What? Oh yes, several Demigods and Demigoddesses were now sprouting pig tails. This had been the most 'discreet' curse, though. The donkey hears, the squirrel tails, and of course the hedgehog spikes were far more visually and physically impressive.
  
  "Please tell me this is reversible."
  
  "Reverse," the order shook the world, and all the squirrel tails disappeared at once, with the spikes flickering in and out. The pig tails slowly went missing. The donkey ears? They stayed.
  
  "She must have placed quite some power in them to last the rest of the day," the leader of the Suicide Squad explained to him.
  
  "The rest of the day?"
  
  "Your sister is many things, but she is not that wasteful, Nico."
  
  "Oh. Oh, err..."
  
  "Right!" the son of Poseidon said cheerfully while rolling his eyes. "I see the magic lesson did not go exactly swimmingly."
  
  "You promised us a superior sorcery teacher, Jackson!" one of the male children of Hecate shouted.
  
  "I have given you one," the black-haired Demigod scratched his hair. "I may have overestimated her teaching skills, though. There is nothing wrong with her superior sorcery skills, honestly. It's the 'teacher' bit where she fails..."
  
  "Well, find a new one!"
  
  And the cohort of aspirant Sorcerers and Sorceresses fled the Chthonian Enclave as fast as dignity allowed them to.
  
  "It's really too bad this teaching experiment didn't work out," the red eye began to shine malevolently. "I was that close to preparing the banners renaming your enclave. I would have called it 'Scholomance', and it would have been glorious."
  
  "Isn't Scholomance supposed to be the school of the Devil?" Nico asked hesitantly.
  
  "It would have been glorious!" Perseus repeated, which, translating his words, meant that the answer was most assuredly a 'yes'.
  
  Nico winced. It would have been a disaster, especially when his sister heard of it.
  
  "Anyway, I suppose it's time you hire a better teacher."
  
  "There isn't one."
  
  "Err...what?"
  
  "There isn't one." The son of Poseidon replied slowly as the Minotaur too left the boundaries of the Chthonian Enclave now that the prospects of violence were close to nonexistent. "Who do you think is going to teach, Nico? Me? I know what I am capable of, and being a teacher is not one of them."
  
  "The Gods?"
  
  The moment he said it, the son of Hades admitted it had been a very stupid idea.
  
  "Nico, the very reason we're in this mess is because the Olympian Council doesn't want the children of Magic, or everyone willing to study Sorcery, really, to grow too powerful. The Titaness as a result is forbidden to teach them directly."
  
  Ah, that explained why Perseus had insisted that Circe took Lou Ellen as an Apprentice. The Enchantress of the Sea of Monsters had not sworn a vow which prevented her from doing the same.
  
  "The problem of course is that C.C. will only take the most gifted students, and she insists her Apprentices do not share what they learn from her with others. I also must mention that every potential male student is out of the question."
  
  Yes. What Bianca had done to the children of Hecate today was just a not-so-funny tantrum which would be only remembered in jokes that everyone would tease you for. With Circe, you may very well spend the next century as a guinea pig.
  
  "The truth is, Nico, that there aren't any schools to train well-rounded magical practitioners. At best, you get people like me, who try to master different types of spells depending on the circumstances."
  
  "Like Alabaster C. Torrington?" The white-haired son of Hecate had not been present today, incidentally.
  
  "Yes, like him, though he has fewer tricks than me in his pockets."
  
  "That's...not reassuring." Nico hesitated again, and then supposed he had nothing to lose. "Bianca didn't ask for a lot, you know. The ability to cast some 'wizardry flame', a protection shield, manipulating some Mist, and something about sound decoys and a few stuff looking like multi-part fireworks."
  
  "Nico, the 'wizardry flame' is still capable of killing an average Demigod in one blow. If every prospective student that just left was able to cast it, New Byzantium would be a magocracy. A City ruled by mages, in the name of magic, for the magic-gifted people."
  
  "Ah," this looked bad. "I suppose the Olympians wouldn't be happy with it?"
  
  "They most assuredly wouldn't." Perseus nodded. "But all of that remains safely in the domain of the imaginary, because we have no teachers, fortunately or unfortunately."
  
  It was followed by a grimace.
  
  "As much as I hate admitting it, the Olympians have really done a pretty good job by pulling off the fangs of the children of Magic. And the alternatives of the pre-World War II era don't exist anymore."
  
  "There were alternatives?"
  
  "Wizards and witches in general made the excuse of leaving for Quests, and instead rushed to place themselves under other Pantheons' authority. Naturally, it resulted in unpleasant situations where plenty of the children of a certain Titaness were on the side which wished to trigger Ragnarok in 1945."
  
  Perseus sighed. It felt a lot like exhaustion.
  
  "I suppose we will have to do without, or go through the Darwinian method of leaving the most resourceful adapt and evolve to new threats."
  
  "That sounds like something which will kill a lot of people."
  
  "I never said I liked the method, Nico." Cards appeared in his hands. "Do you want a revenge game while your sister calms herself?"
  
  "You bet I am! I have a new deck and this time I am going to demolish your deck of horrifyingly cute creatures!"
  
  It was time to duel!
  
  "You will try, my young Apprentice!"
  
  8 May 2007, the Senate, New Constantinople
  
  The order of the day in the Senate had been supposed to be boring.
  
  It was one of the reasons a Legionnaire like Frank, with no powerful patrons or influent family behind him, had been chosen to be among the two guards enforcing the security of the Senate Hall.
  
  It could have been a boring day.
  
  It wasn't.
  
  "And in humble opinion," a certain son of Poseidon vociferated from a gargoyle-elevated podium, "General Douglas McArthur should have been shot for his many failures during the Philippines Campaign!"
  
  "This is ridiculous!" Octavian McArthur barked back, forgetting momentarily he had come to accuse Perseus Jackson, and was now on the defensive on a seemingly unrelated subject.
  
  "No, what is ridiculous is that the coward was decorated for a strategic defeat that completely destroyed his army. As a Tyrant, I can approve the sheer corruption ruling his interests, including the minor fact he was paid by the President of the Philippines for 'services rendered'. Many Dread Emperors would have approved the behaviour of leaving your troops surrounded by the enemy as long as it saved his skin! But Douglas McArthur wasn't a Dread Emperor, he was a General! As such, my opinion is completely clear: President Roosevelt should have shot the bastard!"
  
  Frank noted that a good third of the Senators applauded or cheered. Whether it was because they agreed with the strategic analysis or they just wanted to annoy Octavian was an interesting question.
  
  Yes, the blonde Centurion was trying to become as red as a tomato while the mad Demigod was speaking.
  
  "One can't diminish a glorious career to a single defeat!"
  
  "It is very much true! Then why do we not examine the debacle of the North Korean Campaign? You know, the time where the peerless Douglas McArthur failed to notice that there were close to half a million Chinese troopers preparing for an offensive north of his forces?"
  
  "He noticed them-"
  
  "If he noticed them, he utterly failed to prepare a single contingency for them. You know, I don't happen to be a military expert in mountainous warfare conditions, but it seems to me that if you feel you're about to be attacked by an enemy outnumbering you ten-to-one, a most reasonable course of action would be to stop your progression in hostile territory, and prepare adequate defensive operations. It wouldn't be to imitate once again ostriches, and-"
  
  "I must protest!"
  
  "Then protest!" Perseus Jackson scoffed. "Of course, the alternative and reasonable explanation was that once again his head had inflated so much the balloon was visible from Mount Olympus. I'm sure the son of Apollo was already seeing himself as President of the United States and Champion of his genitor, in addition to the honorific titles of the Priesthood of the Sun. By the Pit, he may have even believed he would be granted immortality by the end of his career!"
  
  Judging by how Octavian was crimson-faced, that scenario couldn't be ruled out.
  
  "Unfortunately, he screwed up." The speech was now filled with gloating, and Perseus Jackson wasn't pretending otherwise. "In recent memory, one would very much say there is a Legionnaire walking straight in his footsteps! Something about a fleet accomplishing nothing but the loss of good Legionnaires while some incompetent fools survived! Isn't that right, ex-Legionnaire Octavian McArthur?"
  
  The scream of hatred which came as an answer was certainly...err...genuine.
  
  In the privacy of his own mind, Frank wondered if the hostility between the two had been engineered by the Fates.
  
  Sure, Perseus Jackson and Octavian McArthur both had colossal egos. Putting one in command of a group of Questers and the other influential in a force of Legionnaires in the very same theatre was always going to end badly.
  
  This was unquestionable.
  
  That said, Frank couldn't help feeling there was something more about this entire problem.
  
  He hadn't a single proof to support the theory, however.
  
  "This study of past historical campaigns is of course your right and your privilege, Quester-Primus Jackson," a Senator finally decided to intervene before it got out of control. "But I believe Citizen McArthur was making a case for his actions and those of the men under his command deserving a reward."
  
  "Oh, he was doing that?" the grin was so bright it might be illuminating the entire Golden Horn. "My mistake, I believed it was just a lot of complaints and baseless accusations."
  
  "I was part of the Great Quest, Jackson!"
  
  "I never remember drinking enough to admit you among my Questers, horribly treacherous ex-Centurion!"
  
  Over two dozen Senators snickered or exploded into laughter. The other spectators to this comedy tried hard to keep serious faces and a superficial facade of dignity.
  
  "You received a reward of millions of Galleons! Millions!"
  
  "Yes." A gargoyle flew to show a laurel wreath a metre above Octavian MacArthur, slowly lowering it. At the last moment, the laurel wreath disappeared, and a large quantity of shampoo poured over the head of the dishonoured ex-officer.
  
  The shriek of rage, truly, was a thing to behold.
  
  "JAAAAAAAACCKKKKSSSOOOOOON!"
  
  The Senate exploded into laughter, with some of its members honestly coming quite close to die because they were giggling too much.
  
  "As long as I am alive," the son of Poseidon declared pompously, "you will get only this fruity shampoo from me, Octavian McArthur! Not a Drachma! Not a Jar of Ice Cream!"
  
  It was the moment that a large scroll materialised in the mad Demigod's hands.
  
  "Of course, if you feel like you need to earn a worthy reward, it is your day of luck! Though no Great Quest has been ordered, I am a great believer in second and third chances! The Suicide Squad is always recruiting more cannon-fodder for extremely dangerous adventures! I, for one, will encourage you to sign! You will notice by the way that Article Three denies all responsibility if you end up devoured by a Hydra! But what is life without some spice...I mean shampoo?"
  
  It took this time half a dozen of Senators to stop Octavian from throwing himself at Perseus Jackson.
  
  Needless to say, nothing of importance, not even the basic bureaucratic work, was done by the Senators on that day.
  
  15 May 2007, Barrack Number One, New Byzantium
  
  Zeus (1), Hera (2), Poseidon (3), Demeter (4), Ares (5), Athena (6), Apollo (7), Artemis (8), Hephaestus (9), Aphrodite (10), Hermes (11), Dionysus (12), Hades (13), Iris (14), Hypnos (15), Nemesis (16), Nike (17), Hebe (18), Tyche (19), Hecate (20), Triton (21), Ariadne (22), Heracles (23), Asclepius (24), Persephone (25), Thanatos (26), Morpheus (27), Amphitrite (28), Eileithyia (29), Boreas (30), Pan (31), Psyche (32), Ganymede (33), Prispus (34), Hygeia (35), the Muses (36)
  
  "You know, this is the first time I've seen someone write all the Barracks' list on a single piece of paper."
  
  The girl who really tried these days to see herself as Thalia Grace grunted.
  
  "Most of the Questers have been here for a couple of years. They know most of the Barracks' names and the numbers."
  
  "That," Jason, her birth brother, added, "and it's not like it's very important. Yeah, the Barrack of the God of the Sea is Number Three, and the one of the Lord of the Underworld is Thirteen. So what? It didn't stop those two to each build a massive enclave for their favourites in the northern expanse."
  
  The former Black Queen did her best not to scowl. Barrack One, where she lived, was in theory prestigious, but in practise, no one had lived there since the 1960s, courtesy of her genitor swearing on the Styx to stop having half-divine children with mortals.
  
  "Two of the Big Three think it is not important anymore, but politics continue." She said seriously. "I've heard the twin daughters of Victory have formally petitioned Chiron to turn their mother's Barrack from Barrack Seventeen to Two. And while it has yet to be requested, there may be a demotion coming for the Barrack of the Children of War."
  
  The Gods and Goddesses' politics, in the end, had very much an impact upon the daily life of New Byzantium.
  
  Jason, unfortunately, didn't seem very impressed by her reasoning.
  
  "It's just a number, Thalia. In the end, the Barrack stays the same. You may just have to walk five minutes longer to reach the tables where everyone eats dinner. You lose one or two privileges, and you receive something like a spoon less of influence. Oh, and I was about to forget. The Goddess-turned-mortal Hera is not even using Barrack Two at the moment. She's using a house in the Atlantean Enclave, everyone knows that."
  
  "Confirming my sincere point of view that none of our parents would tolerate such shoddy buildings if they really thought they would have to live in them for a significant amount of time."
  
  It may be the Queenly part of her speaking, or was it the jealous one?
  
  Thalia had seen the splendour inside the villas the Suicide Squad had been rewarded with, including Luke's, who had stashed an eye-watering amount of board games, card games, and plenty of other form of entertainments in two rooms big enough to hold formal dancing lessons.
  
  "Should I be worried about your reaction when I will bring you to visit the Legionnaire's Barracks a second time?"
  
  The recently-resurrected blue-eyed Demigoddess rolled her eyes.
  
  "I will behave, brother. Yes, I was able to recognise they were military structures above all other considerations." The comfort was superior to anything a Legion of Terror enjoyed in service of Praes, but then this world hadn't had its 'technology' frozen by ultra-powerful Gnomes.
  
  "I'm so relieved to hear that."
  
  "But since you mentioned it, I can give you my opinion: Olympus doesn't pay or reward enough the Legions for what they do."
  
  It had been a pain to verify it, since she didn't have a staff attached to her anymore, but with Learn, the former Queen of Callow had been able to establish the chances of survival varied massively depending whether you enlisted in the Legions or the Phalanxes - that was the Questers' official name, though they rarely used the tactical formation itself.
  
  Save a few disasters - including the recent one in the Sea of Monsters - eight out of ten Legionnaires survived their entire career, received a patch of land and a nice house, and generally had time to marry, sire children, and die in their bed surrounded by a happy family.
  
  With the Questers, it was generally reversed. This was why most of the big lineages everyone knew were living on the side of the city called New Constantinople, and the 'Roman quarter' had a far bigger population than the 'Greek' one.
  
  But if the Questers successfully completed several Quests, they assuredly could become very, very rich. That was because they didn't deploy in large numbers, but also it was a certain...tradition of the Greek culture to hold highly-powerful Demigods to higher standards.
  
  A simple Legionnaire, most of the time, could become well-paid if he was lucky, but no one would call him rich.
  
  "I suppose I should take it as the final confirmation you're not going to enlist in the Legions, then."
  
  "I thought about it the first time you brought up."
  
  To be very honest, the part of Catherine in her had been extremely tempted.
  
  This was the opportunity to build herself a powerbase, at a time the Tyrant and Triumphant had clearly failed to secure it.
  
  Unfortunately, the reason they had done so had become clearer as the days passed. It was obvious that Perseus Jackson had to settle for what he had done with the Third Legio because the Gods would not let him exert greater authority as a Legate or a Tribune from the start.
  
  If she, Thalia Grace, swore to join the Legions of New Constantinople, she would have to begin from the very bottom, as a Legionnaire with no patron but her name. Yes, being a daughter of Zeus would help, but not as much as if it had been Jupiter.
  
  "And you didn't think it was good enough?"
  
  "Ten to twelve years to become a Tribune, I think."
  
  "You're...extremely optimistic."
  
  "In times of war, promotions are easier to get." Of course, so was the possibility of getting killed. The Tyrant had not named his group the 'Suicide Squad' just for the giggles, though she had no doubt it had played a massive part.
  
  "I understand," Jason sighed. "That said, take some time to think about it. You have some time. We received the official papers that confirmed you had until the Winter Solstice to make your choice."
  
  She grimaced.
  
  "I can't afford to wait that long, Jason. I have to train myself seriously, master my Demigoddess skills, and grab some first-class equipment, so when the storm hits, I am at an acceptable level of readiness."
  
  The Legions wouldn't offer that, even if she did join them tomorrow. Oh, they trained. They trained hard. But not hard enough to represent a challenge. Former Queen, twice-lived, a terror on the battlefield...and she would be an anonymous Legionnaire among thousands during many, many war games and training months.
  
  And that wasn't even accounting for the problems linked to her Greek ancestry, like the fact her mind wasn't truly 'wired' for Latin, like her brother was.
  
  "I suppose it is your choice."
  
  Why did that create the urge to strangle the Tyrant the next time she encountered him?
  
  "Yes, yes I suppose it is."
  
  19 May 2007, the Winter Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Jade had never done any ice skating before she became Khione's Champion.
  
  Now she was doing it every day.
  
  In many ways, the former Huntress knew this was part of the influence a Goddess could exert upon her soul.
  
  In the real world, Jade didn't care much. The sensations of freedom, of grace, and of sheer celerity as she rushed upon the frozen lake were just too good to pass up.
  
  Like all good things, it ended eventually.
  
  And Jade could then mock-glare at Miranda and Drew wading in a boiling-hot sauna.
  
  "I just don't know what you find enjoyable about this atrocious warmth." She complained as she traditionally did, while lying down on a mattress of ice.
  
  "Not everyone has ice in her veins, Jade," the daughter of Demeter replied with a smirk. "You should get out of this Enclave more."
  
  "But it's getting so hot out of it!"
  
  "It's not just the temperature, it's the activities you can enjoy," Drew said in a reasonable tone while keeping her eyes closed. "I know you have an unofficial job giving ice skating and ski lessons to every Demigod who wished to pay for it, but there's a lot of stuff you can do at New Byzantium. We have archery lessons, for example."
  
  "I am trying to find a few other weapons to practise beyond the bow, actually." Jade admitted to the two other girls who had become her friends. "I mean, I'm sort of perfect with it. Unlike Ellen and Jenna, the Hunt couldn't take away my skill with it, there wasn't the time for that. But I don't enjoy it as much as I did."
  
  "Other weapons' initiation stuff, then," Miranda Gardiner shrugged. "No one is asking you to be perfect with a sword, just to not reach the penguin-level disaster. Besides, not everything has to be about weapons. There's a volley-ball tournament beginning in two days."
  
  Jade raised both eyebrows in suspicion.
  
  "Volley-ball? As in Beach Volley-Ball? The sport where boys essentially come to watch because the Demigoddesses are wearing swimwear-only?"
  
  "Well, yes," Drew spoke in a voice that wasn't innocent at all. "I fail to see the problem."
  
  Jade did her best to not facepalm.
  
  "I see a lot of rumours about your nightly activities may be true."
  
  "You can call it 'sex', you know," the daughter of Love didn't dance around the subject. "And yes, depending on the rumours, they are."
  
  Jade blushed. She knew she was blushing, and yes, she was aware the other Demigoddesses knew she was.
  
  "This is...this is..."
  
  "Perfectly natural?" No, that wasn't the word she was searching at all. "We're Questers of the Suicide Squad, Jade. We're going into the most dangerous regions of the world, burning our essence and our life-expectancy for stakes that are way above our heads. We are effectively soldiers of Olympus, born to die young. I for one don't see a reason to stop enjoying life. We've been advised to avoid the stuff which will hurt our skills, mentally and physically, but as long as the proper precautions are done, sex is completely fine."
  
  "Err...okay." Jade coughed, now completely red, she was sure. It had to be quite a sight, given her blue hair she had. "I was just thinking I was surprised you didn't try it with Jackson first, instead of all the Demigods pretending to be Adonis who are following you like puppies."
  
  Drew suddenly looked incredibly grumpy, right as Miranda laughed.
  
  "She didn't think to ask Lou Ellen's permission when she had the opportunity," the Champion of Calypso revealed in an incredibly smug tone. "And of course once it was too late, our dear Champion of Hotness and Lava got a stinger-painful hit to remind her that yes, the daughters of Magic can protect their 'possession' from aggressive acquisitions..."
  
  Jade giggled at the sheepish expression of Drew.
  
  "How could I know Lou Ellen had the talent to do something like that?" the Champion of Persephone complained peevishly. "It's not fair! I just wanted to participate in the taming of certain daughter of Wisdom."
  
  "What?" She wasn't the most observant person of the Demigoddess, but still. "I didn't think it was happening like that."
  
  "Well," Drew regained some of her assurance. "You didn't catch them that morning, oh Champion of Frost. You didn't see Annabeth Chase wearing only a bra and yoga pants..."
  
  "Wasn't it training time in the morning?" Yes, it was likely a naive way to look at it, her brain was not working at its best here...
  
  "Ha!" Drew purred. "Someone was getting trained, all right."
  
  Miranda and she had to be completely red after that, though at least the daughter of Demeter could blame the sauna.
  
  "Anyway. The Volley-Ball Tournament. We need a team of Three to crush Clarisse."
  
  "Or Clarisse is going to crush you?"
  
  "Come on, we are the Champions of the Hell Queens!"
  
  Yes, but none of them had Volley-Ball, or Beach Volley-Ball as their Domains, unfortunately.
  
  That said...the Winter Enclave had been rather deserted these last days.
  
  Maybe her friends were right.
  
  Maybe it was time to get out a bit out of here...and no, Jade was going o ignore their insinuations about the rest.
  
  She wasn't ready to lose her virginity, thank you very much.
  
  "All right, count me in for the Volley-Ball Tournament."
  
  28 May 2007, the Underground Casino (don't ask if it's illegal), Thief's Curiosity Barrack (de jure the Hermes Barrack), New Byzantium
  
  It shouldn't be said, but the Underground Casino under the Hermes Barrack was obviously illegal. According to the rumours, Hermes paid quite a sum every month to Dionysus, in order to make sure the God of Wine didn't inform the Council of this law-breaking establishment.
  
  Of course, if the rumours were true - and in that case, they probably were - Bacchus re-invested most of that sum delivering liquors and other alcoholic drinks to the Casino.
  
  In short, if someone babbled, it would be two Olympians instead of one who would face at least mild punishment.
  
  Ethan didn't really care, to be honest. He hadn't come for the drinks, and seriously, after the sheer hypocrisy of Zeus, who had tried to screw them as much as possible during the last Great Quest, the son of Nemesis figured that even under torture, the Olympians wouldn't learn anything important from him.
  
  Besides, the Underground Casino was just an excuse these nights to play card games with his friends, while having a good time. They were gambling ten Drachmas per night in order to avoid the extremely predictable poor outcomes when money would lead to anger and other negative emotions.
  
  There was good music too, something a son of Apollo - no, not Michael Yew - had invented with guitar and electronic piano.
  
  It was the evening of a Monday, and the Casino could be described as 'calm', truthfully.
  
  In fact, there were even fewer Demigods and Legacies than they were on the average Monday evening.
  
  "I don't see our esteemed crazy leader," Ethan ordered a bottle of soda for the table right as Luke was manipulating several piles of cards. "You realise I'm not going to let you begin a game without having the cards pass several times through my hands, right?"
  
  "I am appalled you think so little of me, Ethan," the master-thief smiled.
  
  "You're the one who taught Thalia Grace to cheat outrageously."
  
  "I told you, I didn't teach her anything, she learned to do it on her own!"
  
  "Uh, uh," no, Ethan didn't believe Luke Castellan for a single second.
  
  "And for your information," the blonde-haired Demigod pushed thirty-plus cards in his direction. "Jackson had an emergency. A company worth of Legionnaires was ambushed in northern Maine by a force of renegade Cyclops. There are severe casualties."
  
  "Ah. The Romans decided they wanted to 'loan' the Golden Fleece after all?"
  
  The Senate and the grand leadership of the Legions had refused Perseus...at first. To their credit, it must be granted certain terms were particularly comical, like the right to give free monologues in the Senate when he wanted, or the possibility of hiring several Cohorts for what were farcical peplum movies.
  
  "They did. And this time, our crazy leader was able to control himself long enough to let Annabeth do the negotiations."
  
  Ethan chuckled.
  
  "Did she leave the monologue clause?"
  
  Luke smirked.
  
  "You will have to ask her, she was still negotiating when I left to come here." Oh, yes, he largely intended to do exactly that. "The debate was mainly about the 'volunteering' of military support."
  
  Well, yes, that felt right. It wasn't like the officers of the Suicide Squad were interested in more Drachmas; in all likelihood, they were one hundred times wealthier than the normal Legionnaire. Wait a minute.
  
  "Luke, unless I miss something, treaties and blackmail don't work when it comes to Great Quests."
  
  There were many wrong things to say about Olympus, but they were laws in place to make sure no one went into these expeditions of madness if he or she wasn't a volunteer. Though Jackson's actions really, really tiptoed next to the red line.
  
  "For everything below that, however..." Luke didn't finish the sentence, but Ethan could fill up the blanks himself.
  
  "Nice," he grunted as he drank the soda. "Cyclops in northern Maine, you said?"
  
  "And particularly nasty ones at that," the son of Hermes confirmed. "They didn't seem to be sworn to any of the enemies we're familiar with."
  
  "Monsters trying to show their most dangerous toys and attract the attention of some powerhouses?"
  
  "I think so. These ones won't be recruited by anybody: the Legionnaires made sure to exterminate them to the last."
  
  "There will be others," one thing their new status of 'twice-victorious heroes' had given them was an appreciation of how many monsters they were to always pick up the fallen banners and go to war. "There always will be others. But as long as we have the Golden Fleece, I suppose it's better to use and let it heal a lot of people."
  
  "As long as we will have it?" Luke repeated ironically.
  
  The son of Nemesis snorted.
  
  "Give me a break. You know as well as I do that we aren't the first heroes to return with the Golden Fleece to a city of Demigods." If they had been arrogant or ignorant enough to think so, plenty of their historically-savvy members would have corrected them in record time. "Each time, though, it went missing."
  
  "No one was capable to hold it for more than a year, yes. According to the rumour mill, it may even apply to everyone, by which I mean Gods, Titans, and monsters."
  
  This would definitely match the definition of a Divine Curse, they both knew.
  
  Which...wasn't that surprising.
  
  The Golden Fleece was an incredibly powerful artefact that did one of the more precious services that could exist for mortals: healing injuries, no matter their severity.
  
  Ethan couldn't say he would be happy if the Golden Fleece disappeared, but there were other artefacts which were less useful and yet generated far more of a backlash.
  
  "The longer we have it, the better," Ethan turned his head towards the rest of the Casino. He did not see any familiar faces. It seemed that tonight, their friends had decided to enjoy other activities. "What do you know of this Cyclops ambush?"
  
  "Enough to know half of the casualties they took were done by some sort of brand-new model of automaton-landmine."
  
  "I hate this stuff."
  
  "Welcome to the club," Luke clearly thought like him. "I think our crazy leader was mumbling about the need of another variant of 'Dark Times Protocol' being necessary."
  
  "Again?"
  
  "It is of Perseus Jackson we're talking about, Ethan."
  
  "Yes, but at the pace he's making contingencies for the future, he will soon have one for every day of the year to come, and that's if we stay conservative!"
  
  1 June 2007, the Sanctum, Amazon Headquarters, New Constantinople
  
  Contrary to what numerous persons of New Constantinople imagined, no, the Amazons were not going to war in chainmail bikini.
  
  The Suicide Squad could vouch for that. Or it would have, if its leader, a crazy son of Poseidon whose name was not to be uttered, was not busy pretending spreading salacious rumours every time he left his Enclave.
  
  The problem, Dakota knew, was that rumour had a shard of truth in it, no matter how detached the final product was from reality.
  
  In this case, the shard of truth was that the Amazons may not go to war half-naked, but they assuredly did something close for their ceremonies. The son of Bacchus could only thank the fact that there were only Amazons and their male personnel present.
  
  It wasn't the first time Dakota found himself with only a loincloth, a red cape, a helmet and a shield, but he would lie if he said there was enjoyment to be found in it.
  
  There was a single silver ray of sunlight today; the first phase didn't require his participation, and so he stayed in the royal lodge, with an excellent view, but no way for the other Amazons out of it to listen to his words.
  
  "I hope one day, you will able to change some traditions so we can dress in modern uniforms."
  
  "That's very optimistic from you," Hylla gave him a sardonic glance. "I am very far from being able to propose a single law which will be formally carved in marble. One which would touch our most sacred traditions might require the pre-requisite of travelling to another planet; it wouldn't increase the difficulty much."
  
  The daughter of Bellona ate a few grapes seductively.
  
  "I'm beginning to think a certain scoundrel did not tell us everything."
  
  "Did he know, though?" Dakota asked seriously and Hylla frowned. "I'm not trying to make excuses for him." The Gods knew Perseus didn't deserve them. "I'm just wondering the limits of his sources. He knows a lot about the Amazons, but it is a historical form of knowledge, extracted from men and women who fought against them, or immortals who observed from afar."
  
  "This is a good point," the eldest of his two girlfriends nodded. "No matter his self-control, I'm not sure he could have resisted a few bad puns in the last month, my Helot King."
  
  Immediately, the bond flared to life.
  
  Dakota felt more powerful physically. He also felt weaker spiritually.
  
  "My War Queen," he saluted.
  
  The effect lasted only a couple of seconds.
  
  Outside of battle and certain...other special occasions, it would be dangerous to make it last more than ten.
  
  But yes, Hylla Ramirez-Arellano was not exactly the Queen of the Amazons.
  
  She was their War Queen.
  
  In times of conflict, where the Amazons answered the call to war of one or several Olympians, the female leader of the Amazons held absolute authority, and if she was to fall in battle, her successor would be allow to enjoy the same.
  
  As long as the war didn't end.
  
  When it did, the War Queen returned to the role of a monarch that was strangely similar to all kind of sovereigns strictly limited by constitutional and traditional boundaries.
  
  In fact, when he had first learned of it, Dakota had almost refused to believe it, because it was a very weak sovereign role.
  
  When not at war, the Amazon ruler's main duties were ceremonial above all else.
  
  The real power was legislative, and was in the hands of twelve Ministers called the Dominarch, chosen by the redoubtable three hundreds-strong Assembly called the Ecclesia.
  
  And yes, they could give orders to both War Queen and Helot King, as long as they didn't go against the Laws of Olympus.
  
  No, Perseus Jackson had never mentioned it. And yes, it was entirely possible he didn't know. A lot of these reforms had happened as Rome's Empire fell apart, and the Amazons went on to write new legends in bloody letters.
  
  "He placed a few more orders yesterday, you know." Like him, Hylla's ceremonial uniform didn't include much clothes; she had only a bra in addition to everything he was given.
  
  "More weapons or heap single-use artefacts to replace the ones he threw around like candies during the Great Quest?"
  
  "Not exactly," his lover corrected. "He wanted us to acquire and deliver several copies of Lesser Seals of Solomon."
  
  "Err...what? Weren't we supposed to never use the stuff that doesn't belong to our Pantheon?"
  
  "Don't worry," Hylla told him. "There are many artefacts which were so useful in the last millennia that all the major Pantheons reverse-engineered them one way or another, and they had spread so much that the signatories decided they could stay in use, otherwise no one would ever agree to anything."
  
  "Oh," that felt much more reasonable, though one was speaking of Perseus Jackson here. "And what does a Lesser Seal does?"
  
  "It is capable of neutralising some quite vicious spirits and daemons, and other esoteric traps." The Amazon Queen explained. "That's why I think Olympus' overseers approved the sale so quickly. Against normal Demigods and Legacies, it is functionally useless."
  
  The problem, and Hylla had to know it, was that if it was the case, it raised the big question of why the hell Jackson had felt like ordering a bunch of them was a good idea.
  
  "I think-"
  
  The songs of the Amazons rose, and instantly, Dakota shut up.
  
  The doors were opening, and the hearts were beating faster.
  
  Some fake duels were performed in front of a thousand Amazons who had worked and fought hard for the privilege of being part of the public.
  
  There were many historical secrets displayed in these dances, be they military or not. Some would be likely revealed to Hylla and him in due time. Others would not.
  
  The instruments beat harder.
  
  Then they brought Reyna before them.
  
  Unlike them, unlike most of the performers, she did not wear the 'traditional costume'.
  
  She did not wear anything at all.
  
  The twelve Dominarchs, the most powerful women of the Amazons, led her away, to a large altar.
  
  Emotions of ecstasy, terror, pride, wrath, and more flooded in him. It was not him; it was the inheritance of thousands upon thousands of men who had stood here before.
  
  When his eyes were allowed to watch Hylla, he knew the same was happening to her.
  
  Helot King. War Queen.
  
  They turned towards the altar, where for long minutes, Reyna stayed. She had been given some beverage to drink, and now she was unconscious.
  
  Without a warning, there was a roar in the distance, and then it was as if a piece of cloth was revealed, falling to hide her naked body.
  
  There were no clothes, though, it felt as if his lover's skin was turning half-red on her left side, half-bronze on her right.
  
  There was a second flash, and the skin returned, unblemished save for scars which already existed.
  
  Yet Dakota knew it had not been a dream.
  
  More Amazons came, and they surrounded Reyna, arming her for war.
  
  The cape, the shield, the spear, plus the undergarments.
  
  As they left, one of the oldest members of the Ecclesia helped Reyna to stand proudly.
  
  But not before whispering something in her ear.
  
  A single word.
  
  "Crypteia."
  
  The air felt oppressing and dark.
  
  It was a title. It also was a non-veiled threat.
  
  It was the only dagger the Ecclesia forged to ensure the War Queen indeed relinquished her absolute powers when a war was over.
  
  No, it had not been their idea to propose Reyna for the role.
  
  All objections when it came to this matter were heard, and then discarded.
  
  "May your services be never necessary."
  
  The ceremony ended soon after these last words.
  
  4 June 2007, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  "NO!"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "NO!"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "NO, NO AND NO!"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "NO! It is a stupid idea, and honestly, the animal is already dedicated to Love!"
  
  "The white goose is dedicated to the Goddess of Love," Perseus Jackson corrected with one of his infuriating grins. "The same does not apply to the Greylag Goose!"
  
  "I said 'no'!"
  
  "Just think of the symbolism! Geese are noted to be great guardians, and you are kind of are, since you stole most of your ex-husband's treasury."
  
  "Do you want to die, Jackson?"
  
  "And if I remember correctly," her warning went completely ignored, "when you were Juno, the Romans thought some geese were a symbol of love and procreation-"
  
  Hera grabbed the closest weapon in her range - a dagger - and threw it. Unfortunately, the target of her wrath avoided it with ease.
  
  "Think about it! I have just bought this book from the Sea of Monsters, How to Master your Goose Transformation!"
  
  Hera hissed, all the while rushing to take a bow and some arrows.
  
  "And the author wouldn't be a certain C.C?" The former Queen of Gods felt her anger was getting out of control...and she didn't care.
  
  "What a surprise! These are indeed the initials of Cecilia Clement. Do you think the Immortal Sorceress used a pseudonym?"
  
  "You're dead Jackson," she swore. The bow was drawn. The arrow was ready. All she needed was two more seconds-
  
  "Rico. Distraction!"
  
  And the field suddenly disappeared, saturated by some sort of...orange powder?
  
  "Damn these penguins!"
  
  "Err..." the other penguin, aka the bigger specimen, swallowed nervously. "He may have left the book behind?"
  
  "Burn it," Hera commanded imperiously. "Otherwise we will discover how well penguins can swim if they are chained to anvils!"
  
  "Yes, Boss Lady! Warning: the Boss has made multiple copies in the last days, this isn't the original he purchased!"
  
  Of course it was, Hera thought darkly. It wouldn't be Jackson if it was an easy problem to erase...
  
  6 June, Future Temple of Kymopoleia (in construction), Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  The arrow hit the centre of the target. Again.
  
  "One more time."
  
  Kimiko did her best to hide her frustration. She did obey, though.
  
  Best to assume Jackson knew what he was doing.
  
  She drew another arrow.
  
  The moment it flew towards the target, though, she already knew it was different.
  
  It wasn't the wind. It wasn't anything someone had done to distract her.
  
  It wasn't Sloth, urging her to go take a nap.
  
  It was-
  
  "We have an 8 to end the series of ten arrows."
  
  "I got perfect 10 for the nine others."
  
  And what do you think will happen if I allow you to shoot another ten?"
  
  Kimiko did her best to not look offended.
  
  "I will get more 10, I'm sure."
  
  "You will. I'm also certain you will get a few more 8, though."
  
  "You're joking."
  
  "I wish," the leader of the Suicide Squad read some notebook he'd been scratching all over for long minutes. "If it makes you feel better, you have it better than Ellen or Jenna."
  
  Kimiko did not believe herself a genius, but with a hint like that, it was near-impossible for the mark to not arrive to the proper conclusion.
  
  "With four of us no longer part of the Hunt, our Archery skills have declined."
  
  "Correct," the son of Poseidon nodded. "Obviously, the decline is done now, and depends very much on the ability of your former Patron Goddess to deny all of you her gifts. Now that I have done the proper tests, it should be something like...hmm..."
  
  A magical screen appeared in the air, or was it some technological-backed thing?
  
  Anyway, there were four names and numbers.
  
  Jade: 95%
  
  Kimiko: 75%
  
  Ellen: 24%
  
  Jenna: 19%
  
  "These are my estimates of what all of you have been allowed to save of the 'mini-Archery Domain' you were allowed to cultivate in your body," Perseus Jackson continued. "As you can clearly see, the first time the Goddess was taken completely by surprise, but with every instance, she got better at cutting her losses."
  
  "None of us got to zero, though."
  
  "The Domain of Archery was part of you for a long enough time. The Hunt Goddess couldn't remove it entirely from Ellen and Jenna without causing them great suffering and severe injuries, which are of course forbidden by the Ancient Laws."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Yes. It is forbidden as long as there's no oath-breaking first on the part of the mortals. And since pretty much every awful choice came from a certain Olympian first, well. I'm sure you are able to see the problem."
  
  "It's not good."
  
  Perseus didn't look very concerned by that statement.
  
  "For Jade and yourself, that's not really a problem. You lost some of the deadly accuracy all Huntresses are renowned for, but you will be able to compensate with the firepower granted to you. As for the rest...you lost some of the grace and the passion."
  
  "Not to forget the agility and the eternal youth," she felt she had to point it out.
  
  "Debatable," what exactly did he imply? "There's no denying your body will change, however."
  
  Her eyes went to the construction of the temple in the distance, which was unfolding at a spectacular pace. It wasn't this religious edifice she was concerned about right now, and her eyes may be guided to it, her thoughts were near-concentrated on other issues.
  
  "Changes," Kimiko said flatly.
  
  "Muscles. Equilibrium. Reaction time." The eye the colour of the Seas stared at her critically. "But the biggest change is already here. You're not a Huntress anymore."
  
  "Believe me, Jackson, I had already noticed."
  
  She received a cackle within the next seconds.
  
  "I suppose I walked right into that one. Sorry. What I wanted to say is that you're not supported by a few dozen or hundred other Huntresses. In an ambush or another type of ferocious fighting, you will be a lone archer, not part of a greater battalion."
  
  It sounded alas like one of those unpleasant truths, yes.
  
  "I would vigorously recommend from now on to train in a close-quarters weapon."
  
  "Technically," she said after clearing her throat. "We did-"
  
  "These long knives won't work, no," he interrupted her.
  
  "I will have you know I killed many monsters with them!"
  
  "How many were already bleeding to death? How many arrows had they already puncturing their lungs?"
  
  The bastard always had good questions that proved his point, damn it.
  
  It didn't stop her from giving a half-hearted repartee.
  
  "I'm sure I can find a way to make it work."
  
  "You can. As long as you imbue said blades with Sloth as much as the Moon did for the average Huntresses' knives."
  
  Kimiko felt embarrassment rushing on her face. So far, her skills in that field existed, but were best described as 'haphazard'. There were times when she was able to destroy many scarecrows like a Champion, and other times when nothing happened.
  
  "I suppose it's going to be hell like the rest of the 'hard-mode training'?"
  
  "Think of it as an excellent exercise before the not-so-fun part of Demigod life rushes back and emerges with its lot of blood and massacres."
  
  "Wonderful," let the one who had never scowled cast her the first stone.
  
  "Don't show such a displeased face. You still will have mastery of Archery for the rest of your life, to a level that most archers participating in the Olympic Games these days are only capable of dreaming of. Ellen and Jenna have it far worse than you."
  
  "I know. This doesn't make it feel good to hear in the first place."
  
  Sighing was not advised; it all tended to attract monologues.
  
  "Why are the knives such a bad option, really?"
  
  "Imagine Asterius is upon you with his double axe and you are evidently unable to use your bow." The black-haired Demigod said in a musing tone. "What are you going to do with knives?"
  
  This was a low blow.
  
  Kimiko didn't answer, though.
  
  The obvious answer was 'die'.
  
  The only meagre consolation was that half of the Questers of New Byzantium, minimally, would be as screwed as she was.
  
  But of course, the majority of these Demigods, Demigoddesses, and other Legacies weren't part of the Suicide Squad.
  
  11 June 2007, the Chthonian Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Nico couldn't believe his ears.
  
  Was the sky about to fall upon their heads in the next seconds?
  
  He looked outside.
  
  No. No sign of imminent Apocalypse, not for the next minutes.
  
  What in the name of the Pit was happening?
  
  "Say it again," the young son of Hades spoke hesitantly.
  
  "I said the bad pun had lasted long enough, and my faithful Hellhound deserves a proper name."
  
  A proper 'woof!' came right after.
  
  Nico's eyebrows rose higher.
  
  "Try again?"
  
  "I thought the Lady of the Hunt would keep her faithful lieutenant in the Suicide Squad to keep an eye upon us," the son of Poseidon at last admitted shamelessly. "Unfortunately, she left us at the end of the First Quest, and the other Huntresses we encountered didn't react poorly to my joke. More importantly, our beautiful Hellhound here doesn't appear to like the name very much."
  
  "WOOF!"
  
  The bark was...definitely one of agreement.
  
  "And the new name is?"
  
  "I chose a slightly amended version of what her first master humbly proposed: Kitty O'Leary."
  
  "WOOOF! WOOF!"
  
  Well, the 'loyal' Hellhound vigorously approved. That, or she wanted more meat after eating the equivalent of ten steaks in less time it took to say it.
  
  One never really knew, with the descendants of Cerberus.
  
  "Kitty?"
  
  "WOOF!"
  
  "Kitty O'Leary, yes. A commentary, my Mythomagic card game lieutenant?"
  
  Nico di Angelo was about to say 'Kitty is a feline name' when he remembered that in all likelihood, the 'faithful Hellhound' would take offense.
  
  "Okay, if she likes it..."
  
  "WOOF! WOOF!"
  
  She liked it. That was...reassuring? Or not. The young Demigod was honestly conflicted on this.
  
  Bah, one could see the positive side: if the Huntress named Zoë Nightshade ever returned to New Byzantium, at least there would be no mistakes. Everyone would know if they spoke about the servant of Artemis or his Hellhound.
  
  Yes, Nico was going to spread the word fast; he knew how fast Perseus Jackson could change his mind on certain subjects.
  
  "Does that mean," he tried to hide his hope as best as he could, "that you will take Kitty O'Leary with you during the next big Quest? And that I will be able to go with her, riding on her back?"
  
  The red eye stared at him neutrally.
  
  "No. And no."
  
  Nico tried to request his sister's help, but Bianca had suddenly become incredibly fascinated by the content of a grimoire.
  
  Yes, this was an abject betrayal.
  
  "I am ready for a Quest! Annabeth told me you didn't raise an objection for Demigods younger than I am!"
  
  "Most of the 'younger Demigods', Nico, will never join the Suicide Squad or participate in something more dangerous than Bronze-level Quests if I have something to say about it."
  
  "That's not fair!" No, he wasn't pouting. He swore he wasn't!
  
  "Fair? The world doesn't care about fairness. Have you gone to speak to Jake Mason and Michael Yew like I told you?
  
  "Err...yes, about the former. The latter...err...he tried to use a carrot like a javelin to hit me."
  
  Bianca behind him had a laugh. Yes, his big sis was listening to the conversation, despite pretending very hard she didn't.
  
  "Michael should have known better." The son of Poseidon sighed. "I know I will need to have words with him. Again. Anyway. You've met Jake Mason. Let me assure you, this son of the Forge was way, way more prepared than you are right now to participate in a Great Quest."
  
  "He can't shadow-travel!"
  
  Two eyes pierced him deep in chest, mixing irony and deadly seriousness.
  
  "How many times can you use your shadow-travel, pray tell? One might say the battle-scenario is, oh I don't know, a son of the Forge trying to kill you with a customised machine gun loaded with Imperial Gold bullets?"
  
  "That's...that's not a scenario where I shine!"
  
  The grin became dolorous. Damn all bad puns!
  
  "If your desire is to shine, my shadowy lieutenant, may I advise you try to have a platonic relationship with a son of the Sun? They are really the golden-"
  
  "You know what I mean! And I can use shadow-travel twice now! I was able to reappear six kilometres away from my entrance point yesterday."
  
  "That's really impressive at your age." The compliment made him blush. "But how exhausted were you by the feat?"
  
  "Err...I slept eight hours straight."
  
  The expression was sadly very familiar.
  
  "That's not good enough."
  
  "Not good enough?"
  
  "Nico, I say it without malice, we are against the apex predators of this world. Take the Lycanthropes, if you want. It has been confirmed in the last centuries that several times, certain Demigods were able to teleport away from a battle with them, using magic or some divine-crafted artefact. Each time, as long as the Demigods were less than twenty kilometres away from the monsters and had a few of them bleeding, the werewolves were able to track them and continue the military pursuit."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad was speaking now.
  
  "This ability you are able to use is extremely useful. I am not going to deny it. But if you are comatose and as useful as a sack of potatoes after using it once on such a short distance, I am afraid the final judgement is that your reserves of energy are too limited."
  
  Nico grimaced.
  
  "I can fight with it!"
  
  "Bianca?"
  
  Please big sis, do not-
  
  "Forty-five seconds. One minute, if the enemy is not a first-rank one."
  
  Ah, Hell.
  
  "Shadow-travel is really something interesting. It's a pity it consumes so much divine energy. The applications, be they tactical, operational, or strategic are really, really useful. The problem, of course, is that young Demigods end up somewhere between as long as they don't master it, meaning they're not good enough for the tactical or the strategic moves which would bring up massive wins."
  
  "Does that mean?"
  
  "At the moment, I can't in good conscience authorise you to volunteer for a high-level Quest, no. I'm sorry, Nico, but these adventures are not done to enjoy a picnic in the middle of a Zone Mortalis."
  
  His pleading expression must have some effect, though, for the son of Poseidon sighed.
  
  "If! IF! You are able to shadow-travel on a distance of twenty kilometres and run ten kilometres after doing it, or fight a series of spars to your sister's satisfaction, I will reconsider it."
  
  "You swear?"
  
  "I swear. On the-"
  
  "WOOF!" Kitty O'Leary barked.
  
  "I swear, may the great and faithful Kitty O'Leary be my witness!"
  
  "WOOF!"
  
  Okay...it wasn't too bad.
  
  Nico knew what he had to accomplish to be considered Quester-material.
  
  Now there was the question, how by the Pit was he going to succeed?
  
  17 June 2007, the Fighting Grounds of the Steel Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Clarisse had picked up a sword for that duel.
  
  She was very much regretting it now.
  
  With an axe, she would have won handily she was sure of that, as she would have been able to put way more strength into her blows.
  
  As it was, it didn't work.
  
  And the flaws in her opponent's footwork or the guard-
  
  There wasn't any.
  
  The daughter of Ares scowled, but didn't admit defeat.
  
  She wasn't going to concede so easily.
  
  She was Clarisse La Rue!
  
  "Is it all you got, Princess?" She taunted her opponent. "Oh, my mistake, I meant Sparkly the Blonde!"
  
  "Is it something that can be mistaken as humour when someone has been disfigured by a Hellhound?"
  
  Ah damn, she could do proper taunts too. And there were vicious ones, by the sound of them.
  
  The guard didn't vacillate.
  
  They were circling around now.
  
  It would be so easy to use her Telumkinesis now, but obviously, if she did that, everyone in the spectator stands would now.
  
  "Don't sweat too much, Sleeping Beauty."
  
  "I am sorry, I thought you were crying. You know, you remind me the third person I killed." There was a pause. "He had the same idiotic face when I threw him from the top of a cliff."
  
  Clarisse roared and struck.
  
  This, she realised within a second, was a mistake.
  
  Her sword missed by half of a tiny finger, and it put her off-balance.
  
  She didn't have the time to recover.
  
  For her troubles, a fist met her jaw, and then her wrist hurt a lot.
  
  Clarisse was on the defensive. She hated that.
  
  Fortunately, it didn't last long.
  
  Two more exchanges, and her sword was flying while her body, head first, learned again the feeling of being in contact with the sand of the arena.
  
  This was something Clarisse had been quite happy to forget past her formation years.
  
  "Jackson, I thought you were saying she was weakened," she spat.
  
  Speak of the mad Demigod, and he appeared.
  
  "She was and still is, Clarisse. Otherwise believe me, she wouldn't have waited to exploit your mistakes. The duel...it would have been way more one-sided."
  
  "You really intended to trample my pride, hey?"
  
  "I intended to give you an opponent having more battle-experience than you. It worked, didn't it?"
  
  Clarisse La Rue groaned loudly before throwing a few more insults at Jackson, some of them questioning how much poison had been poured into his milk during several lives.
  
  The bastard had the gall to chuckle in return, and rush away when Thalia Grace intended her willingness to duel him...
  
  20 June 2007, Sea Balcony, the Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Reaching the balcony where the 'humble lunch' was taking place had required the disarming of seventeen traps, and avoiding dozens more.
  
  For those she had to neutralise, there had been cans of orange paint, several penguin plushies singing horrible songs, a leonine monster hired to proclaim 'the Queen is dead, long live the Tyrant', and some other disturbing things that wouldn't be mentioned here.
  
  The good news was that the moment she entered the balcony, the traps were not in sight anymore. The presence of Annabeth must play a great part in that.
  
  And the food was excellent.
  
  There was a profusion of sea food, along with a lot of delicacies.
  
  Plus a certain Perseus Jackson was willing to limit himself to a tale or two, and let Annabeth direct the conversation.
  
  There was no arsenic in the food, and no bad jokes. The gargoyles had been kept away, and so were the penguins.
  
  The 'working lunch' was really enjoyable. The only minor note the daughter of Zeus could grumble about was the absence of wine. There had been a touch of it in the fish sauce, some white wine remind her of a few things Procer had been famous for in her previous life.
  
  There were no bottles of wine, though, to accompany the meals. Only water and fruit juice. By the glances Annabeth had given her, Thalia acknowledged this was absolutely the norm inside the Sea Palace. The Tyrant had not been kidding when he said the alcohol flowed only for the big events, uh.
  
  Of course, everything had an end, and soon the Nymphs removed the plates which had brought the raspberry tarts.
  
  If it had been on Calernia, it would have been the moment to lit up her pipe, but Annabeth was as bad as her boyfriend when it came to smoking anything, and thus there was no way to gain satisfaction for a poor Black Queen as long as she was under surveillance.
  
  "I've heard," Perseus Jackson began as he masticated a piece of fruity candy that was moving around the table, "that you've formally decided to become a Quester."
  
  "I did." It wasn't a secret at all. The list of young boys and girls taking the Questing Oath was published every Monday on large panels near Chiron's office. "I also did two Bronze Quests, in addition to the warm up I got duelling your Squad's Champion."
  
  "Clarisse is not my Squad's Champion," naturally, the Tyrant had to brush the victory aside. "In fact, we don't really have one. Hmm...something to correct, perhaps. Annabeth, who in your opinion would be the one of my Lieutenants deserving the title?"
  
  "It depends I suppose if you want a swordsman or all the weapons in existence are acceptable. If the former, choose Luke. If the latter...no idea, you may have to organise a Tournament to get the answer."
  
  "Hmm...maybe I will." The son of Poseidon mused before turning his red eye in her direction. "You must be already be pretty bored, right?"
  
  "These are treasure hunts and beating one or two monsters." Thalia answered cautiously. "For the moment, it's funny and relatively interesting."
  
  There. It was so diplomatic her teeth hurt saying it.
  
  And the Tyrant snorted, absolutely not fooled by her words.
  
  "I'm sure you will shift to Silver-level Quests the moment you can, which is after one month of probation. Then one month of Vermillion, and one month of Gold-level Quests..."
  
  If she was still the Queen of Callow, she would have had a few more 'bureaucratic mistakes' hit the infuriating bastard. On the battlefield, he would have gotten a crossbow through his throat.
  
  None of these options were available here.
  
  She was going to grit her teeth-
  
  "Perseus," Annabeth intervened, "people who have been participants for Great Quests can give permission to lower-ranked Demigods that they can be involved in Quests ranking from Bronze to Gold."
  
  "Yes, the rules are clear on that." The smirk was not good at all. "Unfortunately, it also presumes these paragons of Quest-hood are willing and capable to accompany the less experienced Demigods on their journey. It is...not possible for a large majority of the Suicide Squad."
  
  "You sent a rescue party for the ex-Huntresses."
  
  "And I assure you," the grin became savage, "Olympus has learned from that mistake. Ellen, Jenna, and Kimiko are banned from leaving the boundaries of New Byzantium. As for the other lieutenants who made the rescue possible, they are technically able to leave, but the limitations are so bad they can't even reach New York City without violating twenty items of the agreement everyone signed with Mr D., proud God of Wine."
  
  The red eye closed, leaving only the green one.
  
  "I am not trying to be difficult-"
  
  "That's a lie," she told bluntly to his face.
  
  "All right, maybe I am trying to be a bit difficult," the Tyrant gloated, which stopped only when his blonde girlfriend gave him a pointed glare. "But I am really serious when I say I can't leave New Byzantium right now. Some members of the Suicide Squad, past or present, can technically go past the walls while keeping their diplomatic immunity. I am not one of them, and the same can be said of Annabeth, Luke, Bianca, Clarisse, and plenty of names you would likely choose in priority. For some reason, even the penguins are under sanction!"
  
  "You mean especially the penguins, Perseus," the daughter of Athena wasn't impressed too much with the reasoning.
  
  "They almost did everything they could save imposing explosive tariffs on them! It's very bad form!"
  
  Why would Olympus have-
  
  No, Thalia wasn't going to contemplate that madness.
  
  She tried to tow the big problem back in line.
  
  "The Gold-level Quests are the big problem. You don't just need the authorisation, you need connections. Many veteran Questers have cornered these high-level Quests, and in groups of four or five, they ensure younger Demigods are unable to take them as long as there isn't a flood of them presented on the same day."
  
  "That's a good explanation. Of course, it isn't the full explanation, isn't it? When high-level Gold Quests are proposed, they stay for far longer in front of Chiron's office. For some reason, as the danger levels increase, these Questing meddlers feel their courage vacillate."
  
  One couldn't possibly wonder why some Questers dreamed about strangling one Perseus Jackson, right?
  
  "There aren't exactly dozens of Quest answering the definition you gave me. I mean, since last week, there's one supposed to do some risky investigation at Las Vegas that no one took for some mysterious reason."
  
  "I am the one who gathered the funds for that Gold Quest, my beloved friend."
  
  Thalia couldn't help but be surprised for a couple of heartbeats. Something she was sure the Tyrant had seen, damn it. Yes, that explained why everyone felt it best to not pick it. How did she miss it? Plenty of boys and girls must be whispering about that behind closed doors...screw it, once again, being alone in Barrack Number One was more of a problem than a gift.
  
  "Why would you bother?" The former Black Queen banished her thoughts and asked the important question. "I mean, yes, you have the Drachmas to pay for a large number of Quests, but why would you waste your gold doing it? The Gods and their adjutants are the one racing world wide to discover threats to the world order, and when there's something shady that requires Demigods, they are the one to hand out the Quests."
  
  "Because in my humble opinion, friend, the Gods don't take the problems of Las Vegas seriously enough. It's bad enough they authorised the Lotus-eaters to have one of their headquarters here, but there's a lot of casinos for the divine and the non-divine, and as everyone intelligent knows, the casino is just a funny way to say 'huge source to supply you money'."
  
  "Perseus is still furious he couldn't build one here," Annabeth remarked in a conspiracy voice that naturally the main party couldn't help but hear.
  
  "It would the envy of the entire American Coast," the Tyrant declared dramatically, adding a few ridiculous gestures to his boast. "Give me a few years, and I'm sure I would be able to equal the fantastic wealth of the God of Thieves!"
  
  Tyrant of Thieves and Ill-Acquired Riches. Yes, that was a grand plan that would...err...probably horribly crash down when the Gods became aware of it. Though they appeared to have crushed it before it could be put in motion, in that case. The little establishment hidden under Hermes Barrack was the only Casino of New Byzantium, and it was more of a 'family game night' establishment, so there weren't going to be millions of Drachmas won or lost there.
  
  "I'm absolutely not devastated your great plan met a few setbacks."
  
  "That's not nice of you!" The Tyrant, of course, chose to immaturely behave and stuck out his tongue in provocation. "And here I was thinking about you, my eternal friend, to be the star of this Gold Quest!"
  
  "You were saying some minutes ago you couldn't give me the skip-the-line ticket I wanted."
  
  "Well, you would still need to wait for a month before taking it, but since there are no courageous souls willing to investigate..."
  
  Uh, the Tyrant really wanted this Quest done, it seemed. In effect, he was just paying the expedition, and that meant ultimately sending his coins into her pockets.
  
  "What's so special about the Casino you want to investigate?"
  
  "First, after its former owners sold it to mysterious parties, it changed name again. It is now called the Hubris Casino. Second, despite the warnings I have given to Chiron, I am pretty sure there have been illegal auctions of minor magical artefacts there. This is not a good trend, and the Casino only opened three weeks ago."
  
  "There's also the problem that the Casino seems to have acquired a system that can track and shoot down the drones we have in our arsenal," Annabeth spoke, looking relatively concerned.
  
  "But no disappearances? No people entering the Casino and never leaving it?"
  
  "No. There's a thin layer of Mist shrouding the Hubris Casino, but whatever it is supposed to do, it is not influencing or manipulating the visitors who play the games and enjoy the activities there."
  
  "So far," the Tyrant added sarcastically. "There have been no fell influence or vile plots we have been able to discover so far."
  
  20 June 2007, Hubris Casino, Las Vegas
  
  The Hubris Collection of Dresses was everything Veronica Moore had been, and more.
  
  There were no stupid tourists anywhere in sight to trouble important people like her.
  
  The service assured by the little personnel was first-class.
  
  And the dresses were of a magnificence that came near absolute genius.
  
  It was like a history of fashion had been gathered in these rooms!
  
  As if things couldn't get better, there were plenty of fitting sessions to make everything more exciting, with the Mistress of the collection herself being present!
  
  "I didn't know something so incredible could be done with linen," the wealthy socialite of New York admitted out loud while sipping the syrupy beverage she was regularly handed out.
  
  "I admit I have a fondness for linen," her hostess replied serenely. "It is very noble, and was one of my first loves. I value silk above linen, but few other fabrics can claim the same."
  
  Veronica's head began to feel a bit hot. She blinked.
  
  "How many-"
  
  "Oh, all of them, of course. Cotton, silk, banana, wool, linen, nylon, hemp, to name just a few. I've tried them all."
  
  Veronica Moore let a giggle escape her lips.
  
  "More will be invented in the future. The imagination of fashion creators is limitless."
  
  "Then I will test them, and weave once more."
  
  It was strange. Usually, Veronica was not that...giddy. She was acting like a teenage schoolgirl doing something forbidden.
  
  Maybe...maybe it had to be the dresses and all this fantastic collection of high-class fashion.
  
  Yes, it had to be that.
  
  "Remove my linen work, dear. I want to see what I am working here."
  
  Veronica giggled, before she realised the hostess was serious.
  
  "But...but I don't have-"
  
  "Now!" the command was uttered in a voice barely above a whisper, and yet it hurt her ears like an explosion.
  
  Veronica felt herself stand and move like she was a doll, with no control whatsoever on the actions of her legs and her arms.
  
  What was happening to her? Had there been more alcohol in this drink than she believed? Was this a nightmare?
  
  The linen dress fell to her feet, and she took two steps forwards.
  
  She was naked before the Mistress of the collection.
  
  A Mistress whose eyes began to burn like terrifying flames. The hair became completely white. The skin colour went from a reasonable white to brown, and then from brown to onyx black. Ears lengthened. The magnificent dress of cotton became something incredible, akin to a web of silk so thin it was surreal it could tighten around the athletic body.
  
  "Help her don her new prize."
  
  Something was terribly wrong. The whole thing was entirely wrong. She had not paid for this. She should scream. She should escape.
  
  None of those things did happen.
  
  Instead, barely a small sigh escaped her lips.
  
  Two women arrived, carrying what looked like a bodysuit.
  
  It was absurdly gorgeous. It also was entirely black, and the fabric varied impossibly between silk, latex, and like someone had used the chitin of some monstrous insect to create it.
  
  "Impressive, isn't it?" the inhuman-looking woman mused. "I dreamed of it a few centuries ago. It took me a few decades to be able to weave it without mistake, however."
  
  Veronica, to her great shame, didn't struggle a single time against the women.
  
  She obeyed mutely. The bodysuit caressed her skin, covered it, and held it in a contact that was both cold and intimate.
  
  "Since then, many Goddesses have bought my creations, when they did not go so far as attempting to buy the licence to replicate them. I admit I loved that they acknowledged my superiority. Of course, all of them but one didn't deny it when I was mortal."
  
  There was a series of small noises.
  
  The black bodysuit was merging with her. She was covered from the upper part of her throat to her feet in this strange fabric.
  
  Only a space between her breasts was left free.
  
  "They understand, like me, that if you want to do something correctly, you have to create it with your own hands. The cheap junk which is made by the so-called industry may deliver a lot of trash in record time, but if one wants to add enchantments and extraordinary skills to the fabric, it needs to be hand-woven. Nothing else will do."
  
  There was something...shattering. The sensation of wrongness increased.
  
  The nightmare Veronica Moore was plunged into went worse as some sort of insect legs came out of the back of her hostess.
  
  Her eyes fell upon the hands...the hands of the Mistress of Weaving.
  
  They had remained human.
  
  They remained human, and they held in them jewellery.
  
  It looked like a small spider. But it was not. It was a spider of silver. The artist had been incredibly masterful; one could almost believe the arachnid was going to come to life soon. The eight eyes had been perfectly represented; they were eight rubies the size of tiny needles to provide some mystery and esoteric beauty.
  
  "Wisdom was right, in the end. I was limiting myself, in my anger. After all, why did I, the greatest Weaver on this miserable mud ball, decide to limit myself to fabric? I could weave metal too."
  
  The Weaver of Dresses smiled and as she did, her lips came tantalizing close to hers.
  
  "I think you will be a promising daughter of mine, Veronica Moore. Of course, first, you will have to survive the Suicide Squad."
  
  Pain exploded in her chest like someone had stabbed her a hundred times.
  
  Her eyes looked at her body, and as the world reddened, the New York socialite watched as impossibly, the silvery spider with ruby eyes buried itself between her breasts. There was some sort of silvery...was it poison? No, please let it not be poison-
  
  The bodysuit closed impossibly fast, leaving no chance for a desperate attempt to tear it out.
  
  "Welcome to the world of my daughters, Veronica Moore. When you will wake up, you will be at New York, ready to obey my orders with all your other sisters."
  
  The collection room dissolved into darkness, and she collapsed.
  
  22 June 2007, Manhattan, New York City
  
  Rachel woke up screaming again.
  
  The words still arrived to her ears.
  
  "Visions always come with a price."
  
  It had not been a normal nightmare. It had been-
  
  "I am coming for you. Tonight."
  
  It took her several seconds to stop screaming.
  
  Rachel rushed to the bathroom, and threw herself some cold water, before getting a towel.
  
  In the mirror, her reflexion was horrible.
  
  She looked like a zombie, and anything but rested.
  
  "Whoever said naps were good for your skin needs to lose his job," she grumbled.
  
  Her heart began to calm down.
  
  This left the threat.
  
  No, not the threat, the promise.
  
  Nocturna, to give the bat monster her proper name, didn't seem to do threats.
  
  She was coming.
  
  Tonight.
  
  As much as she trusted the security company her parents used when it came to bodyguards and other security stuff, Rachel didn't think the men were going to stand a chance against a monster able to strike from the shadows.
  
  That was-
  
  Rachel looked through the window.
  
  It was far later than she thought.
  
  The 'nap' hadn't taken her out for a few minutes; she had been unconscious for several hours; the sun was already several hours past its zenith.
  
  This couldn't be a coincidence.
  
  The Oracle claimant - she was apparently one, wasn't she? - breathed out.
  
  What was her mother always saying? Analyse the situation calmly and logically?
  
  Fine. Nocturna was coming, to make all the nightmares become real.
  
  If she was captured, Rachel would be dragged through an altar to be transformed into a monster, or brainwashed for a long, long time, until she accepted the outcome anyway.
  
  This was really bad, and she wanted to avoid that.
  
  Night was soon going to come.
  
  Nocturna was coming, and the vision had shown a blurry horde of monsters behind her.
  
  Rachel had learned a few lessons of self-defence, but she was going to bet she didn't stand a chance against that. Hell, none of the security team on the floor, four men and two women, stood a chance against that.
  
  In the best of cases, Nocturna would repeat the feat she had done before, and bypass their night stations entirely.
  
  In the worst of cases, she would eliminate them first, before trying to capture her. One way or another, it didn't make a big difference.
  
  The Police? The Army? The Air Force? All these proposals were ridiculous in the extreme. They were far more likely to think her good for an asylum than think she was saying the truth.
  
  No.
  
  Rachel had to trust the visions, no matter how much blood and horrors they carried with them.
  
  She had to use them, or her future as a human was going to end soon.
  
  The red-haired teenage girl ran down the stairs and picked up a phone, but didn't stop. She continued to run until she reached her personal sportswear room.
  
  Only then did she call up a phone number that by all rights, she shouldn't be aware of.
  
  22 June 2007, the Heroic Thermal Complex, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Annabeth left the swimming pool in a satisfied mood.
  
  Yes, she likely never would be among the top three swimmers of the Suicide Squad, but she was now able to complete one kilometre of swimming in the morning, and one more in the afternoon.
  
  And without looking like she was on death's door, please.
  
  Naturally she wasn't going to tell it out loud to Perseus yet, but the daughter of Athena could acknowledge within the privacy of her mind that this training was paying off.
  
  Between the swimming and the rest of the 'martial training', Annabeth had never been in better health.
  
  She only wished that the 'weapon training' was getting such superb results. For all the performance of-
  
  The phone near the dolphin statue rang out.
  
  Annabeth shook her head.
  
  "I bet it is Dakota once again volunteering to take one for the Amazon Queen." Some of the orders that had been recently made were really difficult to obtain.
  
  The phone rang out again, but in a far more strident fashion, and sure enough, Perseus was in the middle of the Olympic-sized swimming pool that was the pride of the Thermal Complex, so he likely would not get there in time to answer.
  
  "Ah, well, the job of a chief of staff never ends." The Demigoddess grabbed the phone, orange-coloured of course, and accepted the call. "You have contacted the Headquarters of the Suicide Squad, a disastrous force of villainous heroes which does create some catastrophes during its Quests to save the world. How can we help you today, Sir?"
  
  The voice which answered, though, was not Dakota's.
  
  "I am Rachel Dare, and I need to speak to Perseus Jackson!"
  
  What?
  
  The daughter of Athena checked her memory. There wasn't a Demigoddess or a Legacy with that name living within the boundaries of New Byzantium. Or New Constantinople.
  
  "How did you get this phone number?"
  
  "I need to speak to Perseus Jackson!" Just by the voice, Annabeth was beginning to dislike the girl.
  
  "He's in the middle of the swimming pool," she replied honestly. "Since I am his chief of staff, may I know the problem you face before disturbing his aquatic training?"
  
  "I must defend myself against Nocturna, and she's coming to kidnap me before midnight!"
  
  Pit damn it. This was one of those calls.
  
  "You've spoken to Nocturna."
  
  "Yes!"
  
  "Describe her."
  
  "She is a damn monster abomination! Black skin like she is dripped in latex, giant wings, talons that can gut you in one blow. And her eyes are pearly white because she thinks she need to become the Oracle of Shadows!"
  
  Right. Unfortunately, yes, that was Nocturna.
  
  "You've met the greatest traitor of the Suicide Squad, yes." She saw her lover jump out unnaturally out of the pool, and...yeah, the phone was set on 'maximum acoustics mode'. "Perseus Jackson is about to take the call."
  
  It went without saying the leader of their Quester group had a really unpleasant expression on his face.
  
  "Perseus Jackson speaking."
  
  "You need to come and rescue me! She's promised she will come to make sure I prostrate myself in front of her Sire, and I don't want to become a monster!"
  
  "Why would Nocturna or her Sire be interested in you? You are not a Demigoddess."
  
  "She's convinced I am a claimant to the Prime Oracle or something like that! This isn't the point-"
  
  "Visions? Ability to remember scenes you shouldn't know about?"
  
  "I can paint the scenes where I saw fighting through a Coliseum which shouldn't exist but-"
  
  "And you were able to obtain my number that way, one I gave only to my lieutenant."
  
  "Yes," the girl's voice was...defeated. "It was uttered between visions of your five Great Quests. The Sun and the Moon. Dark seas swallowing the Princess of the Hunt, an Eldritch Book, and leaving nightmares behind."
  
  "Congratulations," Perseus could have been announcing the funeral of someone with that voice. "You're indeed an Oracle."
  
  "Can you help me?" there was a plea.
  
  "Where are you right now?"
  
  "Manhattan. I live in the Dare Building, in the heart of New York City. I have a direct door on Central Park."
  
  Annabeth whistled. The girls' parents had to be millionaires, at the very least. While no Demigod living in New Byzantium was an expert on the real estate of New York City, you didn't need to be to know the buildings near the famous park of the city were absurdly expensive.
  
  "We're on our way. Keep this phone near you, I will call you back. If you have some security, I advise to keep it close to you. If Nocturna arrives before us, I strongly suggest to run away from her as fast as you can. Perseus Jackson, out."
  
  The communication ended and she suddenly felt very worried.
  
  "Dark Times Protocol."
  
  "Perseus."
  
  "She's an Oracle, Annabeth. We can't abandon her. If she is correct, and I have to assume she is, the Sire of the Drakons already corrupted Nocturna the last time. It is out of the question to give him the opportunity to claim another Oracle. The more the Great Serpent has, the more difficult it will be to fight him in the future."
  
  "I wasn't referring to that," though the girl's voice annoyed her, her boyfriend was right: no one deserved to end between Python's coils. "I was just about to tell you we don't have the authorisation to leave New Byzantium! It doesn't matter if it is a question of life or death!"
  
  "We don't have the authorisation yet." The son of Poseidon grimaced. "Though the point is incredibly good, I will give you that. We have to reach Manhattan as fast as possible."
  
  From the window of the Thermal Complex, red light came. Sunset was already coming.
  
  They were out of time.
  
  "We won't obtain the Council's permission in mere hours." Besides, the last session for a few months was yesterday...which did not feel like a coincidence at all.
  
  "We will have to settle for the permission of a single Olympian, then." By the scowling alone, it wasn't exactly what one would call a 'good idea'.
  
  The fingers played out a complex combination on the phone.
  
  "Festival Palace, this is Perseus Jackson. I know this is breaking protocol, but I really, really need to speak with Lord Dionysus."
  
  22 June 2007, the Festival Palace, Olympus
  
  Ariadne was already half-transformed into her leopard form when the phone rang out.
  
  The daughter of Pasiphaë would be the first to admit that her growling was suffering from an overdose of annoyance.
  
  There was another growl. This one came from her husband.
  
  "Yes, I know, it could be important." Since he was fully transformed into a leopard, Ariadne assumed it was what he wanted to say. After a few millennia, errors of translations were rare between them, but they existed.
  
  The phone rang again, and the annoyance grew. She had made plans for a pleasant evening with her husband, and she didn't want it to be disturbed for some petty reason.
  
  "Yes?" and if her voice promised death to the caller, so be it. People needed to stop calling for no good reason.
  
  "This is Perseus Jackson. I believe we have a Case Oracle requiring an Olympian's immediate attention."
  
  That was, admittedly, a very good reason.
  
  "Why not calling Apollo, Demigod?" Ariadne asked. "He is the foremost authority on the Oracles among the Council."
  
  "I would, if he had given me the permission to go through his sun-blocking phone wards. This isn't the case, and the sun is setting over New York as we speak."
  
  One could see the disaster burning her plans for the evening.
  
  Ariadne took back a human form, then threw the phone to her husband which had just done the same.
  
  "How bad?"
  
  "The potential claimant's name is Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She has formally identified Nocturna as the Oracle of Shadows, as well as the minor problem the bat traitor is on her way to kidnap her. It appears the Great Serpent wants another precognition-gifted servant."
  
  The former Queen of Crete didn't need her husband's wince to know it was really, really bad.
  
  Dionysus remained silent for long seconds.
  
  "I'm sure you have realised it is a trap."
  
  "Yes. But can we afford to give the Sire of the Drakons another Oracle?"
  
  This was a simple question, with an easy answer.
  
  No, Olympus couldn't really afford that.
  
  "Judging by the emergency-"
  
  "It is for tonight, yes, Lord D."
  
  Thus the way most of the protocols had been discarded. And then there was the date.
  
  This was happening the very day after the Summer Solstice, just after the last Council meeting, before everyone went to enjoy a few days of debauchery, pure hedonism, and many other 'fun' activities.
  
  "If it is Nocturna backed by some monsters, no Olympian would be able to take a girl under Olympus' Aegis directly anyway," Dionysus stated the obvious. "The Ancient Laws will stop us from intervening."
  
  "But they won't stop Demigods."
  
  "The Laws will prevent me from sending you to New York City on my own authority. And this is ignoring some problems about the fact you and your band of miscreants are supposed to be assigned to residence."
  
  "Will you prefer to put someone else in charge, Lord Dionysus?"
  
  Even some of the least intelligent leopards yawning in their Temple would be able to answer that one.
  
  "What do you need?"
  
  "A moderately capable method of transportation, with enough armament for a one-way journey to Central Park."
  
  "My genitor won't be happy if you begin a war in the heart of New York City."
  
  "That's why my next call will be to the Titaness of Magic. And the one after to the Lord of Sleep."
  
  It could work, Ariadne thought. Between Mist and magic, the majority of the mortals could be convinced to rush to their beds, and therefore avoid significant casualties.
  
  It was a bit crazy a mere Demigod could afford to ask all these divine favours, but then, few Demigods survived two Great Quests in a row.
  
  "One second," Dionysus turned his head with an inquisitive look. "Do we still have the cars for this stupid C-list movie which was cancelled because we couldn't get the idea voted without the God of War?"
  
  "The Debauchery Race of the Death Leopards one, you mean?"
  
  "Wasn't it the Death Race of the Leopard Debauchery?" Her husband frowned.
  
  "Perhaps," she snorted and checked the list of possessions as fast as she could. "Yes, we kept them in one of the warehouses of New Byzantium. Ten cars. They're armed...sort of. The point of the movie was to get a lot of 'exotic armament'."
  
  Her husband snorted back. He knew very well these had been his own words.
  
  "It will have to do." The phone's muting function was deactivated again. "Perseus Jackson? You are in luck. Warehouse DRDL. It is the immense purple hangar to the right of the flying chariots. The keys are on the doors now. I declare this a Gold-level Quest, and give you exceptional permission to leave New Byzantium. As always," the jingle of the Mission Impossible movies began to play out. "Know that if you fail, if there is no good result, if the end doesn't end up justify the means, or my genitor is sufficiently angry at you, I will of course not be able to do anything to protect you from the King's wrath."
  
  There was a shrug on the other side of the phone communication.
  
  "Business as usual, then?"
  
  "Pretty much," Dionysus confirmed. "We will send several flyers to keep an eye upon you. Try to provide a lot of entertainment!"
  
  "I will do my best."
  
  The communication was cut.
  
  Ariadne clicked her fingers in exasperation.
  
  "Do you intend to inform your genitor before or after your first wine barrel, husband?"
  
  "Oh, before. Absolutely before." Dionysus was nodding so vigorously that even someone not knowing him very well would be able to perceive the lie. "Honestly, I need to order a lot of popcorn before that."
  
  "Improvised movie?"
  
  "Improvised movie with a possible Deus Ex Machina at the end, yes!"
  
  22 June 2007, Warehouse DRDL, the Gates of New Byzantium, New York (de jure)
  
  "I have a very bad feeling about this," Jason Grace sighed as the door of the car closed in a clang that felt absolutely wrong. "And most of it is not because I'm quite sure a Legionnaire participating in a Quest without divine backing is illegal as hell!"
  
  "Oh quiet, brother. If we win, it will be made legal."
  
  Yeah. If they won.
  
  "Err...okay...let's get on with the clown show." No, this wasn't a professional reaction. Though given how fluorescent and absolutely carnival-looking all cars looked, it may very well be the truth. "What do we have?"
  
  "The black box between our seats is the 'tactical coordination module' the sons of the Forge just installed." His sister 'reminded' him. "Apparently, Annabeth and Leo Valdez are going to coordinate everything and provide some air cover with drones from the Sea Palace. That way, we will be able to communicate with the other cars."
  
  It would have been more reassuring, Jason thought, if the 'installation' had not consisted in the sons and daughters of Hephaestus removing some 'non-essential stuff' and placing the black boxes inside the cars.
  
  "We also have a large cannon on top our car, capable of some limited pivoting." Jason cleared his throat. "And let's just say I am very glad we were handed some real ammunition. Look at the command panel, Thalia."
  
  "'Max Wine Wave', 'Party Fireworks', 'Leopard Music'...what the hell is this car?"
  
  "If I have to guess," the son of Jupiter really didn't want to, you understand, "I'm betting filming this movie was just an excuse for some Olympians to make a porn movie with ultra-violent car races. And for some reason, they never got the permission to go past the preparations."
  
  "Great," at this moment, the scowl was sufficient impressive that Jason had no issue saying his sister may have been a reincarnated monarch. She looked ferocious enough. "Just great. Our car is painted in such a fashion that no one can miss us unless they're blind, and with all the noise it makes just by turning the engine on, we might add the deaf monsters too."
  
  "There's a reason why for all the fact we have a sizeable crowd surrounding this warehouse, we had relatively a lot of difficulties finding 'volunteers'."
  
  Rushing in direction of the danger with no plan but 'destroy the bad guys, save the girl' might sound exciting at first glance, but when you had no idea what you were up against and the support was awfully limited, all Questers available could smell something was wrong.
  
  "And the evidence most of the Suicide Squad aren't here gave everyone the confirmation that no one, not even Perseus Jackson, saw this coming."
  
  If they had, the son of Poseidon would have mustered the three Champions of Hell and the Amazons. But as it was, they were nowhere in sight. Jason assumed they had had plans for the day, and it hadn't been possible to recall them by phone alone.
  
  Thus they were here, in cars looking like they were made for some barbaric and utterly crazy races where violence was kind of the point, in addition to getting drunk.
  
  "There are still a few members of the Suicide Squad around."
  
  "Yes," Jason conceded. "Car 1, the Blue...thing...there's Richard Grant and Elvis Knight. Car 3, the modified pick-up...I think...your friend Luke is driving, and Ethan Nakamura is with him. The Car 5 is the Lightning Thief-"
  
  "Triumphant," Thalia grumbled.
  
  "And her little brother," the son of Jupiter finished. His sister had really, really a big grudge against the daughter of Hades. "Perseus was visibly unhappy the little scoundrel was here. Car 7, the brutal duo of Clarisse La Rue and the Minotaur. And in Car 10, Anne Bonny was joined by Silena Beauregard of the Aphrodite Barrack."
  
  That wasn't a lot, when you considered they didn't know anything about the strength of the enemy forces. Still, he had to finish the strategic assessment.
  
  "We are in Car 2, a piece of junk which seems about to be as secure as a vehicle in these anime movies were the characters soar in the sky at the end of every episode. Car 4, we have the Stoll Brothers, pranksters, tricksters, and thieves."
  
  Even by the standard of the sons of Hermes, they were infamous. For all the wrong reasons, it must be said.
  
  "I thought they were Twins." Thalia commented with some minor surprise.
  
  "No, they are not. On the other hand, Castor and Pollux are twins, and they're in Car 6." These were the twin sons of Dionysus, and them participating was a sign...err...how crazy the whole Quest was. "Frank is driving in Car 8, with Sherman Young, son of Ares."
  
  That also raised another problem; they had few good drivers. No one had had the time to train with these vehicles, or any kind of vehicle of any nature these last days.
  
  "Who took Car 9?"
  
  "The Victor Twins," Jason winced. "The daughters of Victory."
  
  "Err...their family name is really 'Victor'?"
  
  "No, of course not, that's just what everyone call them behind their backs since they're so competitive in every field. I know their first names are Holly and Laurel, and yes, those are their real first names. But I don't know their family names."
  
  The minor good news was that they were first-class Questers, though they didn't have the battle-experience of the Suicide Squad.
  
  Of course, Jason had heard the jokes. Who hadn't? It was rumoured the two sisters had been named co-leader of their Barrack so that they competed with each other all the time. That way, they wouldn't take over New Byzantium almost by accident.
  
  "That's great. Really great."
  
  "And now we must ask the real question-"
  
  "Don't. Please don't."
  
  There was a giant engine's roar.
  
  An entire section of the warehouse collapsed.
  
  Several powerful honks resonated and silence the clamour of the crowd.
  
  The sunset had come, but the diminishing light couldn't hide the giant beast which had just appeared like a behemoth next to the column of clownish cars.
  
  "That's...that's a medium-sized fuel truck." Jason said weakly. "Or at least, it was..."
  
  The entire thing looked edgy, with spikes and chains.
  
  It had a rocket system installed on the top of the pilot's cabin.
  
  This was nothing but the first bad news.
  
  "PEOPLE OF NEW BYZANTIUM! I AM GOING TO WAR!"
  
  There was a series of clanks and some other omens of doom.
  
  And then the 'fuel tank' opened, revealing that there was no fuel inside, but something eminently worse.
  
  The shriek was ominous. The sight was worse.
  
  "Jason...tell me it isn't what I think it is."
  
  "It is a giant flamethrower supported by several big and murderous machine guns."
  
  The entire thing looked absolutely perfect to decimate a horde of monsters and give every Demigod an irrepressible urge to go hide under one's bed.
  
  "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what I thought it was. Damn."
  
  Okay, it was bad. Very bad. Still-
  
  And then he heard it.
  
  The dreadful words.
  
  The words no Quester wanted to hear.
  
  Until the moment he died, Jason wouldn't forget that it was Octavian McArthur who had doomed them all.
  
  "There is no way this evening can get any worse!"
  
  "Oh, no..." Thalia moaned.
  
  "HAVE NO FEAR, GLORIOUS COMRADES OF THE LIBERATION RACE SQUAD! THESE DEADLY WEAPONS ARE CONTROLLED BY THE EXPERT FINS OF MY LOYAL PENGUINS!"
  
  Because yes, Octavian and the other bastards had been utterly and completely wrong.
  
  It could always get worse.
  
  22 June 2007, New York City
  
  You might not believe it, but driving a truck was pretty hard, actually.
  
  Perseus was still pretty proud of how well he was driving the thing.
  
  So far, he had only done it via the simulators he had bought for his Palace.
  
  He was getting better and better by the minute, though!
  
  Just ignore the screams of terror coming from the penguins and the rest of his merry band of Questers, please.
  
  "Slow down, Jackson, we're about to enter the city proper!"
  
  "'Slow down' is a privilege reserved to those who are early, Ethan," the former Tyrant answered seriously.
  
  "That's your plan?" The son of Nemesis sounded really, really exhausted for a moment. Were his efforts paying off? "Assuming you have one, of course."
  
  The doubts were there. Ah, well. It wasn't like it was completely unjustified.
  
  "The plan was always to use the Manhattan Bridge, since it's the scenic road, and it is also a less-straightforward route to our goal than other bridges would be."
  
  For the moment, the plan was working, since there had been zero monsters trying to intercept them. Yes, it was his truck which was opening the 'rescue convoy', thus the complaints about his speed.
  
  "I know." Ethan sighed. He too had noticed the minor problem that the sun had passed over the horizon. Night was slowly gaining ground. And their little force was still far away from Manhattan. "But please, can you drive a bit more reasonably? We haven't all your insane driving skills!"
  
  "I will have you know, my treacherous lieutenant, my driving skills are perfectly appropriate for the circumstances!"
  
  "Yeah," Elvis Knight snarked. "I am with Ethan here. They're insane!"
  
  "Why is everyone a critic these days?"
  
  "If you've stopped fooling around," Annabeth intervened. "We have a problem."
  
  Ah. The prologue was over; the real battle was about to begin.
  
  "What is the situation?" Perseus asked seriously to his chief of staff.
  
  "At least five, no, seven vehicles, moving from the Lower East Side towards the Manhattan Bridge. They're accelerating as we speak."
  
  If he had not humbly gone grovelling in front of Hecate and Morpheus, they would have been completely missed in the traffic of the City-which-never-slept.
  
  But tonight, everyone had gone back home or fallen asleep without accident.
  
  The Suicide Squad and the enemy were the only people awake who mattered.
  
  "What do we have? Sky chariots? Ramming-kamikaze vehicles? Converted Trucks?"
  
  "Sport Cars."
  
  "Repeat again?"
  
  "These are sport cars," his girlfriend was now definitely taking some pleasure in the fact he hadn't seen it coming. "I see a yellow Ferrari, two black Porsches, and while I don't have the brands for the others, I can guarantee you these are highly-expensive vehicles. They're also racing like hell to catch up to you before you can reach the Manhattan Bridge."
  
  "Acknowledged," yes, the speed factor explained some things...but not others. Honestly, when he had built the Inevitable Doom, it had been with the expectation it would be a magnificent ship...but it also one armed with a lot of conventional and unconventional armaments.
  
  You couldn't fit a lot of weapons on a Ferrari, or any sport car, for that matter.
  
  Had the Coalition been surprised by what they were bringing with the party?
  
  The idea sounded improbable, even within the privacy of his mind.
  
  No. If the enemy was sending it against the Suicide Squad, it was because their commanders knew they could slow down a force of Demigods.
  
  "In my tyrannical opinion, we have to assume these cars' drivers are monsters."
  
  "They're buying Ferrari cars now?" Bianca commented in her supremely arrogant tone. "They've good taste."
  
  "More cars are leaving underground garages!" Annabeth said urgently. "Ten of them, right behind you!"
  
  "Here comes the trap," they had been forced to react to Nocturna's move, and the enemies would have been stupid to not plan something like that. "I suppose they intend to block the Manhattan Bridge with something heavy and then surround us before delivering the killing blow."
  
  Whether they survived or not, they would be unable to enter Manhattan proper via this bridge, and obviously the enemy would use the hours of delay to kidnap the claimant-Oracle.
  
  "Yes," Annabeth confirmed. "There are two giant trucks now on the move to block the bridge entrance. And err...by the Pit, what is that?"
  
  May he assure his faithful support base that no, he didn't like this kind of exclamation at all?
  
  "It looks like there are sort of...giant webs falling upon the bridge. Several sport cars have slowed down, with women jumping out...they're...it looks like they're transforming. They have spider legs growing out of their backs!"
  
  When confronted with something, the simplest explanation was in most cases the right one.
  
  "That would make them part of the Cult of Arachne. And if they're here tonight, it's because they have joined the Coalition."
  
  Or their Mistress was one of the supreme executives of that disgusting organisation.
  
  In doubt, it was best to assume the worst.
  
  "All vehicles are to accelerate as fast as they can," he ordered.
  
  "Perseus, the trucks will block the bridge before you can break through the trap!"
  
  "I can read a map and the situation as well as you can, Annabeth," even in the middle of a trap, it was best to keep one's politeness at high level. "My order stands."
  
  "This is crazy!"
  
  The fuel truck which had been converted into a weapon of war raced to meet its destiny.
  
  The shrieking sirens and the lights of the enemy vehicles soon appeared, incredibly close, but not engaging yet.
  
  Naturally, this was when the clicking sounds began to jam their radio frequencies.
  
  "Foolish Half-bloods," something that was no more human hissed. "Our mother has ordered you shall not pass!"
  
  "Oh, but I will." Perseus felt the pulse of something far bigger than himself once more echo through the air and the fabric of the world. "Do you know why?"
  
  "You will not arrive to Central Park in time, Half-blood!" the monster snarled. "The bridge is blocked! No one but the daughters of Arachne will pass!"
  
  He finally had an unblocked view on the target, and yes, the Cult had worked hard. With nothing but their giant webs, they were piling up more and more trucks and vehicles to enact a complete blockade at the entrance of Manhattan Bridge.
  
  This was also the time Perseus saw for the first time the 'daughters' of the First Spider.
  
  Oh yes, he was tolerant, and not prompt to judge someone by his appearance alone; otherwise, he wouldn't have befriended Asterius.
  
  But here-
  
  Oh yeah, they were really, really ugly, at the sight of the truck's lights.
  
  It was like you were watching women get possessed by chitinous horrors, with way too many legs to be comfortable with.
  
  The worst part, he noted, was that the Curse seemed to have no 'standard'. Some had the 'spider belly', other had not. Some had four legs and several extra-eyes, others had more...or less.
  
  It was like all these women had been given the Curse and a black chitinous bodysuit, but they all reacted to it in a different way.
  
  It was interesting...and horrible.
  
  "You shall not pass, Perseus Jackson!"
  
  "Do not tell me where I am allowed to go." He answered while focusing his Hydrokinesis.
  
  "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" The arachnid monster screeched, realising at last he wasn't about to slow down, not now, and not ever.
  
  "I am the Tyrant of the Suicide Squad! I go where I want, when I want, and no one tonight will stop me!"
  
  This was the moment he chose to throw the entire Hudson River at the problem. Literally.
  
  22 June 2007, Manhattan Bridge, New York City
  
  Since a son of Poseidon's Hydrokinesis was not exactly a secretive weapon, Ethan Nakamura made the guess that the Cult of Arachne had gambled Perseus Jackson wouldn't be able to use it efficiently while driving a truck insanely fast.
  
  Unfortunately for the monsters, they were wrong.
  
  This was never more evident when two giant hands of water surged out of the Hudson River and went on to draw trucks and cars to an aquatic grave.
  
  The 'blockade' was destroyed in mere seconds, and though there were cars still in the way, they were not strong enough to stand against a truck launched at full speed driven by an insane Demigod.
  
  "STOP THEM!" The spidery monsters did not like this 'surprise', clearly.
  
  "Faster, Luke!" Ethan urged his driver. "We're going to-"
  
  The roof of their car screeched and partly disappeared just over their heads. Ethan grabbed his hammer by reflex and swung it.
  
  He was quite happy to do so, because the next second, it hit a female abomination in the head.
  
  This was a very good thing...except a second one went to land upon the back of their car in an impossible jump, ripping off half of the back armament in the process.
  
  "Mother Arachne wants us to taste your flesh, Demigod!" The arm became akin to a chitinous spear which almost decapitated him.
  
  But the monster had extended herself, leaving her wide open to a counter-strike.
  
  Ethan didn't miss the opportunity, and pulverised her chest.
  
  The daughter of Arachne was thrown on the bridge, and the cars of the Stoll Brothers hit her with a devastating squelching sound.
  
  Ethan didn't celebrate his victory.
  
  There were webs everywhere, and too many spiders to count.
  
  "We should have pushed for it to be considered higher than a Gold Quest!"
  
  "I don't think it is the moment to discuss that!" Luke shouted back. "Who is the imbecile throwing fireworks and wine all around?"
  
  What was-
  
  Oh yeah, that was that.
  
  "Well, these are not vehicles built for war..."
  
  A passenger car's door flew and Ethan had to jump back in sitting position.
  
  "This is the Grace siblings' car, I don't know-"
  
  The trail of wine became an inferno, and Luke of course had to make a dangerous amount of swerving and dodging to keep them alive.
  
  BOOOOOOOM!
  
  "What was that?" Ethan asked again.
  
  "Don't worry," Perseus' voice was weak, due to their communication relay being in the process of sparkling and going haywire. "These were the bombs the Coalition planted at the other end of the bridge going off. It really feels like someone decided to plan for a contingency if we managed to break through their blockade."
  
  "I don't like that, at all," the son of Nemesis answered while beginning with another arachnid monster, this one looking far more humanoid...and far more dangerous, as it tried to blind him with sort of acidic spider's web.
  
  "The answer, as always, is Hydrokinesis, Ethan. Brace yourselves!"
  
  It was only then the smoke dissipated, and Ethan saw the giant span of missing bridge.
  
  He turned his head in time to block another spider appendage trying to impale him.
  
  "What do you intend to-"
  
  "BWAHAHAHA! I AM INVINCIBLE!"
  
  There was an explosion.
  
  There was a geyser.
  
  The daughter of Arachne was sent for a direct bath in the Hudson River.
  
  The vanguard truck and the ten multi-coloured cars followed it on a bridge that was made of nothing but water.
  
  "We reached Manhattan," Luke commented drily when they had a reassuring amount of asphalt under their wheels.
  
  "But our communications are dead now." The son of Nemesis darkly commented before grimacing. "I see more giant webs. We aren't done yet with the enemy."
  
  22 June 2007, Manhattan, New York City
  
  "That was AWESOME!"
  
  Nico had just finished saying it when Bianca deliberately hit a giant spider-woman with the car, with had the immediate effect of losing part of the fragile sheet of metal.
  
  "Or not?"
  
  "Don't lower your guard, Nico," his sister reminded him coldly. "How are the others faring behind?"
  
  Since the question was asked while one of her hands erupted in black flames, soon torching the webs above their heads, Nico decided to take it very seriously.
  
  "We're distancing Clarisse's car," the young son of Hade told Bianca. "I don't think the black smoke was a special weapon after all."
  
  As he'd just finished the commentary, the engine suddenly decided to die, right as another monster threw itself at them. The daughter of Ares and the Minotaur had just the time to jump out of the green-orange-yellow vehicle before it became a fireball and a funeral pyre for one more arachnid monster.
  
  "And we've lost them."
  
  "We've just lost a lot of our strike power." His sister commented, her eyes narrowing frighteningly. "Can you tell your friends in front of us to stop doing stupid things?"
  
  "Err...no," when had the Stoll Brothers become his friends, by the way? He was just trying to use their services to find the rarest Mythomagic cards! "I mean, the communication black box smells really funny..."
  
  It had been hit by the acid of the spiders and that-
  
  "Throw it out! NOW!"
  
  Nico's arms obeyed before he actually understood the order.
  
  The thing was heavy, it hurt his arms and his back, but it soon flew in the air-
  
  And the spidery monster trying to catch it disappeared in a significant explosion.
  
  "Oh," they had been a bomb like that aboard... "That was close."
  
  "It was," his sister nodded. "I'm going to have a long conversation with Jackson by the end of this Great Quest. One doesn't test the unstable prototypes during operations like this one."
  
  "Maybe it was a choice between these prototypes and nothing at all?"
  
  "This is still awfully dangerous. You could have been killed."
  
  Nico felt a bit uncomfortable, both in a good and bad way. The bad way took over a few heartbeats later.
  
  The shadow-using Demigod had broken his vow to Perseus, about not trying to participate in a Quest of importance before he was ready. Yes, he knew his volunteer act had not been refused because of the precipitation and the presence of thousands of witnesses.
  
  "Pollux and Castor are about to catch up." They, unlike the Stoll tricksters, Nico would readily call friends. "But why is their car shining purple? I don't think we have that kind of offensive mode?"
  
  Bianca's throat made a loud and angry sound.
  
  "It isn't an offensive mode, it's their aura of madness slipping out of control! They must have emptied a few cups of alcohol to give themselves courage! Morons!"
  
  "Err...what?"
  
  "Do you think giving a Demigod the idea to drink a lot before participating into an insane driving dash is a good idea?"
  
  Evidently, now that his sister mentioned it...no, it was not.
  
  It was really bad, the more he thought about it.
  
  "They're about to overtake us," Nico coughed, "Castor and Pollux, I mean, not the spiders."
  
  "The webs are getting more and more frequent in the air. We're about to-"
  
  Ten monsters plunged all at once.
  
  The first thought that came to the front of his thoughts, Nico would admit later, was that they really looked a lot like Spider-Woman in the super-hero stories. Or Venom. Their costume was all-black...and they threw a lot of black stuff that couldn't be good for anyone's health.
  
  Without Bianca, they would have likely lost their car here and there.
  
  But his sister was far more dangerous than all these monsters.
  
  More black flames were wielded. It was like the penguins with the giant flamethrower, except his big sis didn't need a machine, and her flames were ten times more dangerous.
  
  Three 'Spider-Women' were incinerated in as many seconds.
  
  "The others are focusing on Castor and Pollux!"
  
  "I'm a bit too busy, Nico!"
  
  "They're dropping the Cocktails!"
  
  "They're doing what?"
  
  BAAADDAAAAAAAABOOOOOOOM!
  
  The exact series of events behind the explosion would never be explained rationally.
  
  Castor and Pollux were drunk.
  
  Nobody else was aboard their car.
  
  Let it just be said that suddenly, there was a heroic car of purple under assault by five monsters dancing at the end of arachnid silk.
  
  A small blink of an eye later, there was a purple car flying over the FDR Drive highway. Flying and disintegrating at the same time, carrying with them very surprised members of the Cult of Arachne.
  
  Then it utterly broke the firing mechanisms.
  
  It began to rain confetti, fireworks, and many more things one found useful at a party.
  
  It was, as Perseus Jackson, would admit later, 'be worth a 10 in execution, pyrotechnics, and complete buffoonery'.
  
  The wheels were the next thing to fly around, without the car.
  
  Bottles and an immense quantity of wine were spread around, generating more madness.
  
  And Car Number 6, Pollux and Castor's Car, made a deep plunge into the Hudson River, along with two Demigods and a few monsters.
  
  It was greeted by a groan of his sister, who was clearly mangling the steering wheel in an attempt to not facepalm.
  
  "Awesome," the venom in her voice suggested anything but 'awesome'. "We'd already had the penguin duo, but now we have those two. Jackson better not think of recruiting them, or I'm going to kill someone."
  
  Charmspeak, Anne Bonny thought, was one of the more dangerous powers ever placed at the disposal of Demigods and Demigoddesses.
  
  "Go screw yourself!" Silena Beauregard ordered.
  
  The spidery abomination obeyed, all the while falling from her web.
  
  The result was...anatomically and morally wrong.
  
  "What?" the daughter of Aphrodite asked with a sniff. "She insulted my family."
  
  "Nothing," the pirate daughter of Demeter shook her head very quickly. "Are we still far from Central Park? I'm afraid I never had the opportunity to visit this huge city."
  
  "We're about...ten minutes away? We still have a bit north left to go, and then we will have to make a big turn westwards to reach Central Park."
  
  The words 'I hope we're not too late' weren't said, but they could be read on her face.
  
  "Fireworks!"
  
  Anne Bonny believed she had good reflexes, but the first one was upon them so fast she was able to smell it before it continued through the ruined roof of their car.
  
  She touched her left cheek, and yes, there was suddenly a little blood.
  
  "A good thing we have now so many holes in our vehicle...the attacks are getting and out without detonating. What did us this time, by the Pit?"
  
  "I think it's some stuff from the Victor Twins!" Silena replied with a vicious expression. "It looks like one is trying to remove all the sticky web they got from the monsters!"
  
  "And their solution is fireworks?" Were they crazy?
  
  Even the penguins were not trying something like that, and they were the penguins, by the maritime damned of the Sea of Monsters!
  
  "They look like they're...DODGE!"
  
  A cascade of black acid was spraying around without warning, and what little roof remained on the car died out. Anne had to smash it out with her scythe before it fell upon their heads.
  
  "Where did it come from?"
  
  "Behind us! There is a new car behind us!"
  
  This was then the ex-Pirate Captain saw it.
  
  It was something elegant and lethal, and the silver colour shone like a lighthouse in the middle of New York night.
  
  "One more arachnid to deal with...how many are they?"
  
  "Better question," the daughter of Aphrodite hissed. "How in the name of my mother did they get the money to acquire all these expensive sport cars?"
  
  "This can wait for-"
  
  The silvery racing car fired several guns, and it wasn't kidding around. In a few shots, the steel plate protecting their rear was shredded until it was nothing but a sieve, and then the rear of the vehicle was transformed into an inferno.
  
  The car of the daughter of Nike was not better; it was burning too.
  
  "PREPARE TO JUMP!"
  
  "ARE YOU CRAZY?"
  
  Anne Bonny slammed her feet so hard onto the brake pedal, while at the same time grabbing the handbrake as strongly as she could.
  
  She jumped.
  
  The enemy, which had positioned directly behind them, never had the time to understand what was happening.
  
  It soon became one with their mangled ruin of a car, and that was when all the fireworks and other stuff decided it was time to call it.
  
  Anne Bonny ignored the pain of the crash and ran to take cover.
  
  It was a good thing Silena and she had the same idea, because before being able to count to five, it was like someone had detonated a sizeable bomb on the shores of the Hudson.
  
  Metres away, the twins of Nike looked at them like they'd grown second heads.
  
  "To quote Jackson," the female pirate tried to joke, no matter how much it hurt. "You should see your faces."
  
  This was almost a consolation for being unable to continue this race and this Quest. Almost.
  
  22 June 2007, Central Park, Manhattan, New York City
  
  Rachel ran.
  
  Two men had already given their lives for her to escape; the least she could do was to honour their sacrifices and obey their last words.
  
  She had to run.
  
  Running in the direction of the giant fireworks that for some stupid reason, came with loud explosions of battle in the distance.
  
  Someone there clearly was fighting in the distance.
  
  She didn't know if it was Perseus Jackson and his forces, but it didn't really matter to Rachel: anyone opposing the monster was a possible ally.
  
  All the other people...they were sleeping. Manhattan was sleeping.
  
  Rachel would have preferred for there to be crowds, though she knew deep in her heart it wouldn't save her. It would only increase the number of the dead.
  
  The monsters-
  
  "Look at that," there was a hiss, and then something fell from the sky, before revealing all its ugliness. It looked very much like someone had merged the upper body of a woman with a giant spider body. "The little morsel is trying so hard to run away. Why do you run, little mice?"
  
  Rachel aimed the gun her last protector had given her and fired.
  
  Each shot was loud and was sure to attract more monsters.
  
  She had to try, she couldn't face something like that with her bare hands!
  
  All the shot hit, leaving large holes.
  
  Rachel's eyes widened in horror quickly though, as the black flesh of the monster filled up the holes in an absurd display of regeneration. In five seconds, it was like she'd never hurt the spidery monster at all!
  
  "Not bad," a large maw filled with fangs mocked her, "but I am far more advanced in my embrace of the Curse than the others. If you really wanted to inflict lasting damage, you'd use Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold, little mice."
  
  Rachel felt red-hot fury at that. Not just because the mockery rang like the truth. Not just because it was her powerlessness slammed in her face. Not just-
  
  "Accept it, it is your destiny to be presented to the Lords of the Coalition," the female hybrid of arachnid and human crooned.
  
  Destiny? She dared to call it destiny?
  
  "You can die and take your 'destiny' with you!" The young New Yorker girl screamed, and as her heart burned in righteous anger, it felt like her fingers were touched by flames. "I have visions, yes, but I won't let you force me to bow to monsters! Uh?"
  
  It hadn't just been a feeling. There was something akin to a thin thread of flames in her hands. It almost felt like-
  
  "An Ariadne's Thread," the monster's mandibles clacked, revealing the humanoid part of the body was just as monstrous as the rest of it. "You will serve-"
  
  Rachel threw the rope like one would a lasso. At least how the cowboys threw their lasso in the movies. She had never tried before tonight, for evident reasons.
  
  The thread of white-red flames should have missed. Rachel didn't know what she was doing, and she had not tested how it worked.
  
  The thread went impossibly to lodge itself into the navel of her enemy, and when she held it, the spider disintegrated it into a rain of black chitin.
  
  "Wow!"
  
  "Wow, indeed."
  
  Rachel turned her head, and all her hopes were sundered, as very familiar black wings announced the arrival of a demon far worse than any arachnid.
  
  This time, Nocturna hadn't bothered hiding behind a human illusion.
  
  She was the bat, deadly and terrible.
  
  "It looks like my Sire has chosen well. You are a claimant to the power of Prime Oracle, but also a Spiritual Legacy of Ariadne of Crete? I am impressed."
  
  "This," Rachel licked her lips. "This isn't something all Oracles can do?"
  
  Nocturna exploded in laughter.
  
  "Ha! Ha! Ha! No, of course not. I think the three Moirae would have had heart attacks millennia ago if it was the case. The old crones really don't like it when a heroine is trying to weave her own destiny. If enough people did it, they would soon be out of a job."
  
  Somehow, it felt really, really important.
  
  "But enough about that," Nocturna said in an imperious tone. "You gave the Cult a merry chase, and as usual the Suicide Squad has been a pain to predict, since Jackson changes his mind every couple of minutes. I believed the spiders could deal with you, but you proved me wrong. Time to end this."
  
  Rachel made the thread of flames move like a lasso again.
  
  "Don't. I have now something that can kill you, and I won't hesitate-"
  
  There was-
  
  She threw her weapon by sheer instinct.
  
  This time, it missed, and a mass of shadows bound her arms, making sure that what had been a thin rope of flames disappeared into nothingness.
  
  "You have a lot of potential," the bat acknowledged, with her unnatural long tongue coming incredibly close to her face. "But right now, it is only potential. To deal with daughters of Arachne that are as inexperienced as you are, it is good enough. Against me? No, it won't work."
  
  "I will never-"
  
  Nocturna kissed her. On the lips.
  
  But Rachel knew immediately it was something far worse than a kiss there was something forced into her throat.
  
  There was...she felt something bad was...there was something in her throat which-
  
  "Swallow."
  
  The order was too powerful as the kiss ceased that Rachel couldn't help but obey it.
  
  And when she realised what she had done, it was far too late.
  
  "What..." a tear fell on her cheek. "What have you done..."
  
  "I have given you a great gift. Now it is time for another."
  
  Central Park felt like it had become as quiet as a grave.
  
  Rachel wanted to scream, but she knew it wasn't going to do any good.
  
  Her limbs were chained by ropes which seemed to be made of shadow itself.
  
  "I don't want..."
  
  The bat monster ignored her. There was a black hole summoned, or something that looked like that, conjured from behind her immense wings.
  
  Two wooden boxes fell from it, to crash on the grass of the famous park of New York.
  
  It felt like a nightmare. It was going to be bad.
  
  Nocturna opened the larger box first. It contained...a pair of boots.
  
  The turn of the smaller book was not to be delayed for long. It was opened not three seconds later. And it was...a pair of gloves?
  
  "This is...a bit..." and suddenly the aura struck like her if she had been slapped. Hard.
  
  "They were made of-"
  
  The air felt far colder than it had any right to be, and it wasn't because the nights of New York were fresh in June.
  
  "Yes. I knew you were smart." Nocturna gave her a very approving smile. Rachel would have preferred a scowl or an angry expression. "For me, the boots were enough. But our Sire thought you would need the gloves too, you want to be able to continue to paint, after all."
  
  "I will never use those cursed objects!"
  
  Nocturna sighed in exaggeration.
  
  "The hard way it is, then. I believe-"
  
  There was a cataclysmic explosion which almost destroyed her ears.
  
  Rachel was barely able to turn her head, but from what she was able to see...fire. A good part of Central Park was suddenly in fire.
  
  It was like a giant spear of orange flames had suddenly been cast against the vegetation of New York.
  
  "I suddenly understand why the Goddess of Agriculture hates the Suicide Squad so much." Nocturna began. "I feel there is-"
  
  There was a second roar, and this time the shockwave hit them.
  
  It felt like it rattled every bone in her body.
  
  It felt like the end of the world.
  
  And suddenly, there was something slamming hard between her and the shadowy monster.
  
  No, not something.
  
  It was...
  
  "There was a lot of Boom in the Kaboom, Boss."
  
  The penguin, for yes, if she wasn't hallucinating, it was a penguin, stood on very shaky legs.
  
  A penguin which talked, and came to stare straight into Nocturna's white irisless eyes.
  
  "Ah."
  
  "Rico Kowalski," Nocturna seethed.
  
  "Traitor," the penguin retorted, somehow grabbing a detonator and something that suspiciously looked like a pile of explosives from his belt. "Per the Boss instructions, I am here to deliver a message. I am coming."
  
  "Then I can offer him your corpse as a farewell gift!" An orb of shadow was conjured, and the merciless battle began.
  
  BOING! BOING!
  
  Travis Stoll had not driven many cars in his life, but he was rather confident no vehicle should make that kind of noise.
  
  "SLOW DOWN!" Connor screamed. "WE'RE NOT ON THE HIGHWAY ANYMORE!"
  
  On the left, an inferno appeared, like someone had decided to create a volcano.
  
  On the right, a horde of arachnid monsters.
  
  Travis did the only thing he could think of.
  
  "HOLD ON TO SOMETHING BROTHER, AND FIRE THE WINE CANNON!"
  
  "THIS IS MADNESS!"
  
  Travis would have approved, if they were not about to be eaten or something worse by the Cult of Arachne.
  
  Still, better to put on good odds, just in case they were able to escape a visit to Hades the old-fashioned way.
  
  "Oh, Lord Dionysus," the son of Hermes began, while opening the bottle of rum he had stolen in an outrageously-rigged card game with Jackson. "We are all little fools before your greatness, but I'm sure this comedy of Manhattan is making you laugh a lot. If you could lend a hand, it would be...super?"
  
  The sensation of the rum was overwhelming, and before he began gurgling too much of it, Travis threw it to his brother, before doing what one absolutely shouldn't do under these circumstances: ignoring the road, pushing the acceleration pedal to its utmost limits, and then charging straight into the dark areas of Central Park.
  
  "FIRING THE WINE CANNON!" Connor screamed.
  
  BOING! BOING!
  
  The eight-legged monsters were now looking like a tide nothing would-
  
  There was a vivid, fluorescent purple laser.
  
  And the spiders, no matter their size, no matter how little humanity they had, stopped the pursuit and began to fight each other.
  
  "SAVED!" Connor proclaimed while emptying more and more rum in his throat. "SAVED! PRAISE DIONYSUS!"
  
  "BROTHER!"
  
  They emerged in a clearing and what was that, there was a penguin and-
  
  "MONSTER!"
  
  Travis didn't have the reflex to use the brakes.
  
  Styx be his witness, the commands of the car were not answering anymore.
  
  So he did the only thing he really could.
  
  He rammed their failing method of transport into the dark bat monster.
  
  The shock was...horrible.
  
  If they hadn't been suddenly shrouded in some grapes-coloured energy cloak, Travis was sure he would have died near-instantly.
  
  Same for Connor.
  
  Despite the folly inside him - unless it was the rum - his brain told him to get out.
  
  He had to get out!
  
  "CONNOR! JUMP!"
  
  Travis jumped, right as his brother did the same.
  
  It was just in time, for the car - or the half which remained, really - continued its crazy ride, and made a deep splash into the mini-lake of Central Park.
  
  "KAKAKA!" What was this laugh? Oh right, they were all drunk. "WE GOT IT, TRAVIS! WE GOT-"
  
  There was a terrible explosion.
  
  Enough water was thrown out to make it like a wave higher than their height.
  
  And the giant bat abomination soared again.
  
  It soared again, and five orbs of shadows appeared.
  
  "Oh, that's not fair at all. RUN!"
  
  If they hadn't moved, they would be dead.
  
  Wherever the black-shadowy stuff impacted the ground, it was like some sort of acid-filled grenades were melting the grass and the earth.
  
  "We need support!" His brother screamed. "We need-"
  
  KABOOOOOOM!
  
  Once again, the bat vanished into a gigantic explosion.
  
  "Thank you for the distraction, but now I have things under control," a very smug penguin came behind the tree. Then his beak twisted into an expression of fear. "Under careful consideration-"
  
  The poor tree was hit, and collapsed, severed in at least four neat parts.
  
  Travis turned his head.
  
  The bat abomination was immobile, two metres above the ground, and her expression was clearly one of hatred.
  
  "I'm going to take a lot of pleasure organising a penguin barbecue," the angry snarl seemed incredibly genuine, a little part of his brain noted. "You. DIE!"
  
  This time, there weren't five or ten orbs of shadows summoned as plenty of black holes opened everywhere.
  
  There were over two hundred, maybe more and all of them were bigger than the previous attacks.
  
  "CONNOR! MORE RUM!"
  
  It wasn't going to be enough, he knew it, even as he shouted it.
  
  Darkness descended-
  
  And all the water which had been thrown out of the lake re-gathered in a giant wave to strike the enemy's all-consuming attack.
  
  This came truly at the last second, and the son of Hermes felt his legs collapse under him, like they were suddenly made of jelly.
  
  A figure advanced out of the darkness, holding a Trident, and radiating hope.
  
  Perseus Jackson had arrived.
  
  "Nocturna."
  
  The head of an eight-eyed monster was still twitching as it rolled upon the grass.
  
  "Perseus. Your penguin and your other minions disrespected me."
  
  "I apologise. They will be punished."
  
  Wait, what?
  
  Travis should have mustered some energy to protest, but he was tired, so tired...
  
  "You don't have any intention to punish them, don't you?"
  
  "Was my grin too evident?"
  
  The blessings of Dionysus faded away, and exhaustion claimed Travis Stoll.
  
  It was, to be honest, a minor miracle that no one was dead.
  
  Perseus felt a minor temple to Dionysus may be erected for that alone in the near future.
  
  But that could wait.
  
  For now, what mattered was that the Stoll Brothers and Rico were still alive. They were unconscious, yes, and wouldn't play another part into the fight, which was a pity, but they had played their role.
  
  They had removed plenty of arachnids from the battle, and given him an opening, while Richard and Ethan dealt with the rest of the horde.
  
  "I find myself disappointed."
  
  "Jealous that I can find an army when I battle you in the very backyard of Olympus?"
  
  "I will not be jealous because someone decided to ally with the Cult of Arachne." He had met several of the monsters before his First Great Quest, and what he had seen had been a confirmation to avoid all contacts for as long as possible.
  
  It was a streak of pragmatism that had broken tonight.
  
  "The Bella Medina I knew would never have allied with such monsters." The power she had absorbed and the influence of the Sire had completely twisted her in the end.
  
  "I am Nocturna!"
  
  The shadows became alive, and the very darkness pulsed, trying to force him to concede.
  
  Perseus broke the attempt with the contempt it deserved.
  
  "You are whatever the Coalition and your Sire wishes you to be, which is hardly something complete as we're speaking. Seriously? The Oracle of Shadows?"
  
  "The time of mortal Oracles is at an end. My Sire, the Python has seen the truth of what must be done!"
  
  The former Tyrant let the earth shake under his feet.
  
  Mentally, he pushed, and the shadows went away.
  
  Nocturna bared her fangs. Oh, did she think it was going to be a fair fight?
  
  Something shook.
  
  The shadows converged and-
  
  Nocturna wasn't alone anymore.
  
  She held a thin, astonished, and visibly very afraid red-haired girl with a lot of freckles in hostage.
  
  "I presume this is the formidable Mrs. Dare I've heard so much about?"
  
  "You presume correctly," his least favourite traitor had a disturbingly long tongue now. "You are going to let me go-"
  
  "Or what, you're going to bite her, cut her throat, and drink her blood? Please." Yes, he could afford a lot of sarcasm here and now.
  
  "There are other claimant-Oracles in the world."
  
  "Do me a favour and stop offending my stupidity sensors. I have a high tolerance, but you're trying to earn moronic records in a few words." The former Tyrant breathed out. "You're not going to kill her. You and your friends of the Coalition have mounted this whole operation, thrown gambit after gambit, just to get your claws upon her. I saw the two artefacts you left in the clearing. You tried to magically bind them to her. If you kill her, your Sire will have to begin from zero again, not to mention certainly waiting over fifteen years."
  
  The shadows danced at the edge of his vision. Ah. Maybe accepting certain irregularities had been the right move, after all.
  
  "And for the record, taking her hostage is really evidence you are on the side of the bad guys."
  
  "Big words from-"
  
  "I will have you now, I am a perfectly law-abiding hero!" Perseus made an ironic salute with his Trident. "And I have two Great Quests under my belt to prove it!"
  
  "You are-"
  
  Nico di Angelo had timed the attack perfectly. The shadow-travel came into Central Park right as Nocturna was entirely focused upon him. A dagger of shadows struck, and the hostage was free...free and Nico used shadow-travel again to transport her away again.
  
  "Damn you Perseus Jackson! You-"
  
  "I debated with you to give time to get Nico in position? Yes. Yes, I believe I did."
  
  "Give me back the girl!"
  
  "No, I don't believe I will." He answered cheerfully. "And by the way? Nico wasn't the only one I waited to get in position."
  
  A car rose over Central park like a dying star, and without warning, the clouds of the storm coalesced.
  
  There was an intense blast of lightning.
  
  And Thalia Grace arrived, on a rain of debris.
  
  Nocturna had already moved away with impressive speed, but her attempt to fly and engage in the air was abruptly interrupted by a lot of hellish black flames.
  
  That was Bianca di Angelo's intervention, by the way.
  
  "Fine," Nocturna watched them one by one, her black skin already fully healed from the wounds inflicted both by dagger and lighting. "You want to protect the girl? I can still claim her on top of your fresh corpses."
  
  Perseus called more water with his Trident. Hell answered the spell incantations of Triumphant. Over their heads, the storm growled, and sparkles danced between the fingers of the sovereign once feared as the Black Queen.
  
  "Well, if you can beat us with odds of three-to-one against you, I suppose you may deserve the win. If."
  
  The Demigoddess who had transformed into a bat abomination snarled, and the final battle of the night began.
  
  Three against one.
  
  They were heroes, and they had saved the 'princess' from the monster.
  
  If it had been a story, they would have had this in the bag.
  
  Unfortunately, there weren't any stories on this world.
  
  This was something Thalia became very aware of when her blade, coursing with lightning, pulverised the right wing, and yet the damn thing healed faster than you could say it!
  
  "Children of Zeus...given powers they don't deserve!"
  
  Thankfully she had trained like hell these last weeks, because the talons would have killed her on the spot. As it was, the Omni-Shield she had taken with her was destroyed as easily as it had been made of paper.
  
  The flames rose again.
  
  Thalia threw herself away.
  
  Her enemy didn't.
  
  The bat abomination screamed.
  
  She screamed, but when the torrent of black flames ran out, everything was beginning to heal once more.
  
  By the time the next series of attacks came, the enemy had almost entirely recovered, and of course, tried to take to the sky again, only stopped by new multiple water jets.
  
  This wasn't a story.
  
  But the big problem was that no matter what they hit it with, Nocturna wasn't staying down.
  
  They had hit her with three different metals: Celestial Bronze, Imperial Gold, and Stygian Iron. They had hurled at her water, lightning, and darkness in many different forms.
  
  And it wasn't working.
  
  Worse, the bat monster was incredibly fast, meaning plenty of attacks missed entirely, but they still had to dodge hers if they didn't want to die.
  
  "All at once," the Tyrant proposed as an orb of shadows almost hit his head. As it was, he was still going to end with a few missing hair next morning. "Named Aspects, it's our only chance."
  
  "I can hear you, you know!" Nocturna taunted them. "And I am familiar with your attacks, Jackson! Do you really think-"
  
  "Silence," Thalia hissed, and the damn monster's face when she was forced to shut up was deeply worth it. "I agree, time to end this!"
  
  Of course, Nocturna tried to massacre her with her talons the second after, but it didn't stop the sudden silence.
  
  Still, it'd better work. They weren't going to be in good shape once they'd done that.
  
  "I will Struggle, but you will Break!"
  
  "If Creation doesn't bend the knee, it deserves that I Destroy it!"
  
  "I am the Tyrant, and I say my Rule does extend to the extermination of monsters!"
  
  "FALL!"
  
  "COLLAPSE!"
  
  "END!"
  
  This was them trying to force this strange world to hear them.
  
  This was them pouring way too much power for a battle they'd completely improvised.
  
  The effect was catastrophic.
  
  Thalia couldn't exactly describe what happened.
  
  Water plus Lightning plus Darkness plus...other things.
  
  Earth cracked. The sky was torn apart. Demons shrieked from the depths of hell.
  
  Trees and grass were thrown around like an uncontrollable storm was unleashed.
  
  The explosions rose into a music of complete destruction.
  
  Finally, the silence came.
  
  Where there had been a rather nice park, there was now an immense, blackened crater.
  
  It was a good thing she had ordered Jason to drag away the unconscious bodies of the son of Hermes and the penguins. They wouldn't have survived otherwise-
  
  No.
  
  No. How the hell had the abomination bat survived that?
  
  "That...that hurts," like in a nightmare worthy of the City of the Dead, Nocturna rose again.
  
  Thalia spat blood, and her strength was abandoning her.
  
  "That should have killed you..."
  
  "You almost did," the traitor grimaced.
  
  As the shadows faded, the former Queen of Callow could see that it was true.
  
  Nocturna was missing entirely one wing now, claws and membrane, and though the shadows clearly were trying to regenerate it, it wasn't something faster-than-the-eye anymore.
  
  Her chest and the rest of her black body were bleeding black blood too.
  
  She was severely wounded, yes.
  
  But looking at the faces of Perseus Jackson and Bianca di Angelo, Thalia knew they hadn't enough force here to do it a second time.
  
  "I believe though," an orb of shadow appeared, "I am the one in the better position here."
  
  One could almost see why the term 'children of the Big Three' had spread in the first place.
  
  In pure destruction alone, there wasn't anything above them on the Demigod sphere of existence.
  
  They had almost killed her.
  
  True, death wouldn't be permanent now for her. She would return.
  
  Nocturna still didn't like how close she had come to death.
  
  Nor she enjoyed particularly the pain.
  
  Her left arm-wing was gone, and it was going to take days to completely regenerate it.
  
  It was inconvenient.
  
  It was painful.
  
  And despite doing her best, she had failed from accomplishing her mission.
  
  The future Prime Oracle had not yet received the gifts of her Sire.
  
  This was...problematic.
  
  It also had to be rectified.
  
  Nocturna activated her gift of precognition. Assuming she needed three attacks to get rid of them-
  
  No, better to not underestimate them anymore.
  
  She had to see a future where ten, maybe twenty attacks to finish them were necessary, in order to stop any heroic rescue of the last minute.
  
  Now.
  
  If she did that, where was she going to find Rachel Dare?
  
  Behind-
  
  The Thread of Fate exploded in her chest, and whatever suffering she endured for the temporary loss of her wing, it was nothing compared to what she felt now.
  
  "How does it feel, bitch?"
  
  "It is not pleasant," she admitted. The future Prime Oracle tried to snap her life-thread, but her effort failed this time.
  
  "Why aren't you dead?" the red-haired girl screamed. "What does it take to kill you?"
  
  "You aren't ready...my fellow Oracle. If you try to kill me now...you will open your soul...to my Sire."
  
  Rachel hesitated.
  
  Nocturna smiled.
  
  The Thread of Ariadne withdrew.
  
  Nocturna felt the pain abate.
  
  Good, the girl was smart-
  
  In the next breath, a Trident of Imperial Gold was biting into her essence.
  
  "This won't be more than a minor inconvenience, Jackson."
  
  The red eye glared, all-consuming in its folly.
  
  "That's kind of true. But what about a lesser Seal of Solomon?"
  
  All her precognition suddenly screamed at her, and Nocturna's visions became clearer.
  
  The Coalition-
  
  Bastards.
  
  "I suppose this battle goes to you tonight. That said...I think I have shown you why I believed you weren't good enough to survive the Age to come, didn't I?"
  
  "I Seal."
  
  This, Nocturna supposed, was a good epilogue for this entire series of treacheries and larger-than-life baits.
  
  Her powers abandoned her, and she collapsed.
  
  Thank goodness they had won, because Richard didn't even want to know what a defeat would have looked like.
  
  Central Park had been transformed into a war zone, and the least said about how the streets nearby looked, the better.
  
  It was good that the arachnids had disintegrated without fanfare when they were killed. One thing they wouldn't have to explain. It was already bad between the ruin of Manhattan Bridge, the destroyed sport cars everywhere, and the various parts of loaned orgy vehicles that had been disintegrated at various stage of the engagement.
  
  Oh, and plenty of the Questers they had brought along for the 'ride' were not here; they were dispersed somewhere all over Manhattan.
  
  Everyone had clothes in tatters, relatively impressive injuries or looked dead on his/her feet.
  
  But yeah, they had won.
  
  They had won, and so far, no one had gotten killed, as far as he knew.
  
  No one but the monsters, but they didn't count.
  
  And speaking of monsters, Richard's eyes fell upon the naked body of an all-too-familiar girl with short black hair.
  
  The flesh of her missing arm was slowly trying to leech out, which was disgusting.
  
  And she had a sort of flamboyant seven-pointed star with plenty of glyphs surrounding her navel.
  
  But otherwise-
  
  "Did you turn her into a human again?"
  
  Perseus made a sound that sunk the hopes before they could coalesce into something serious.
  
  "I wish, Richard. But no. I think that it's a sort of chameleon-stuff fake appearance she can adopt when she wants to go unnoticed when surrounded by humans. That way, the job of the Mist to hide what she is becomes easier."
  
  The son of Poseidon really, really looked far too exhausted to not feel somewhat worried.
  
  "Having watched her fight and spoken to her at length, I don't think there's a lot of humanity left in her tonight."
  
  "It would be nice to kill her, then."
  
  "I don't think killing her would remove her from the board for long. My dear Uncle gave some hints he wouldn't have a lot of ways to imprison her, meaning she would be bound directly to the Pit, before returning once again. It could be in one day or one year, but she would return. And between you and I...I don't think we are lucky enough to get something as long as one year."
  
  "True," Richard began to clean his sword. "And the other reasons?"
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad snorted.
  
  "Figured that out, didn't you? Yes. When we returned from our last Quest, I was given the kingly order that should our paths cross hers again, I was to do my utmost to capture her alive and in reasonably good condition."
  
  Perseus grimaced, and his face for a few seconds was a mask of pain.
  
  "I really didn't think it would be that difficult. Her strength had grown enormously since our last encounter."
  
  There was a golden flash, and Bianca di Angelo approached the unconscious Nocturna with Orichalcum chains and manacles. One didn't need to be a genius to know what they were going to be used for.
  
  Richard's eyes turned to catch the red-haired girl they'd come to save standing vigil over an asleep Nico di Angelo.
  
  "Young, and already a heartbreaker, that one."
  
  "His Dad will be proud," the son of Poseidon didn't bother hiding his amusement. "He shouldn't have come back, I told him to run with her...but he didn't listen."
  
  As best as he could see, this disobedience had made the difference between defeat and victory.
  
  "I think I am glad he did it."
  
  "So do I, in the end." Perseus shrugged. "I can't help but feel he's too young. Too innocent."
  
  "I wasn't that much older when I began my Quests, Perseus."
  
  "Screw you, Grant." The legacy of the Earthshaker yawned. "How dare you demolish my perfectly reasonable arguments..."
  
  The fires were dying down. The sounds of battle had completely ceased.
  
  And then there were lights on the horizon.
  
  "The lasso of fire Mrs Heroine-of-the-Hour used..." he wasn't the only one to have noticed. Thalia Grace had looked at the girl like a hawk looked at a potential rival, by the way.
  
  "Ariadne's Thread," Perseus said, and the name sounded right.
  
  "Right...I thought it was supposed to help someone find his way through the dangers of the Labyrinth."
  
  "It does that...or put it another way, the artificial-crafted artefact Daedalus managed to put together did that. But it was done based on the observation of watching the first Ariadne's Thread at work, and this one was an awakened divine gift."
  
  "What does the original gift does, then?"
  
  "What does manipulating the thread of mortal and monster lives do, my heroic lieutenant? Everything? Nothing? It is something that does not exactly fit in the repertoire of any Demigods."
  
  Behind the philosophy - that went way over his head, to be honest - but Richard understood that Perseus had said this was effectively limitless gift.
  
  "It must be quite rare."
  
  "It is named after Ariadne, Queen of Crete and current Goddess, because she's the only one who survived long enough to master the gift. Or so the myths and legends said. I must admit, until today, I didn't think the tiny bits of lore I had managed to gather were correct."
  
  Both paired of eyes silently watched the red-haired girl who had the sleeping head of Nico di Angelo upon her lap.
  
  Despite the horrors, Rachel Dare gave them a defiant expression.
  
  He didn't know how long they could have stayed like this, but in the end, Skipper arrived on the scene, and the penguin of course attracted plenty of attention.
  
  "Boss! I have secured the artefacts! And I have been able to tell, using the last communicator which is not scrap, that ambulances are on the way to bring us back home!"
  
  "They did?" Richard was pleasantly surprised. It hadn't happened a lot in these last hours. "Good, I suppose...we all could benefit from some healing of the Golden Fleece. But who called them?"
  
  "I did."
  
  The night receded for a moment, and in a corona of purple and gold, the God of Wine made his grand entrance.
  
  For them, Dionysus had chosen a grand golden toga and a heavily muscled appearance, with quantity of grapes tied to a golden diadem upon his head.
  
  "You have done well, all of you," the Olympian declared. "But now it is time to end this Great Quest, per the command of King Zeus. You are ordered to return immediately to New Byzantium, with your guess and your...your prisoner."
  
  The eyes of the God of Madness were assuredly not filled with joy when he looked at the unconscious Nocturna.
  
  "I will personally take command of the clean-up of the operations, in addition to the rally of your scattered Questers."
  
  "We obey."
  
  What else could they say? Besides, it wasn't like they really could aspire to anything but fantastic healing and a good bed...
  
  24 June 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  There were many advantages to having a girlfriend.
  
  One of them was undoubtedly having the opportunity to exchange a long kiss as you woke up.
  
  "One would almost believed you were worried, Annabeth."
  
  He only received a loud huff and a light slap as retaliation.
  
  "For the record," the daughter of Athena crossed her arms, "you haven't yet realised how insane the videos were from above. The drones didn't miss a single second of your 'legendary ride' across Manhattan, Mr. 'Saint Patron of Collateral Damage'."
  
  "I love to believe we made an impressive mark from Manhattan Bridge to Central Park." The former Tyrant answered with a large grin.
  
  "Well, you did, but by dawn, the near entirety of the battle-devastation was gone."
  
  "All of it?" Most of the stuff near the Hudson River wasn't too problematic; it was just destroyed cars and spider webs. But the rest was an entire different story...
  
  "All of it. The Lord of Smiths sent an entire battalion of Cyclops to repair Manhattan Bridge, and your Lord Father was helped by the Lord of Wine and the Lady of Harvest to turn Central Park into a haven of greenness and tranquility again. All of the metallic carcasses were sent to the scrapyard, and the park looked more or less normal when the New Yorkers woke up."
  
  "I suppose they didn't want a war zone on their doorstep," Perseus murmured, before leaving the bedroom and going straight for his 'breakfast balcony'. He was incredibly hungry!
  
  It ended up not being a real breakfast, yes. It was very close to noon, courtesy of having slept...a long, long time.
  
  As such, in a display of humility, this was only a five meals-strong course, with plenty of eggs, sausages, and of course a lot of fish food. The Palace's cooks were slowly but surely converted to his way of things, buying as much from Atlantean suppliers as they did from land-based ones now.
  
  "I called Lou Ellen, you know."
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "I would have called her today, Annabeth."
  
  "Would you?
  
  He raised his fork high.
  
  "I would have...eventually."
  
  Annabeth snorted.
  
  "Well you're going to do it for sure now."
  
  "Treachery," the leader of the Suicide Squad shook his head, "I see treachery everywhere."
  
  "You deserve it."
  
  "I suppose I...kind of do?" There had been no time for a funny repartee or to engineer a set of sarcastic answers, to be sure. "Though I don't know what I could have done differently. The late call of Mrs. Dare didn't leave us more than a few hours to call a muster and deploy a rescue party."
  
  "I don't like her."
  
  "Feminine jealousy?" he inquired amused.
  
  "Hardly," Annabeth replied with a frown. "This girl...how sure do you are she's not on the enemy's side?"
  
  "Very," yes, he could tell the single word hadn't convinced his girlfriend. "Annabeth, if Mrs. Dare was on the opposite side, it's likely we would all have died. She has the astonishing ability of summoning an Ariadne's Thread. Against that, Achilles' Curse or the protections offered by Drakonic blood are absolutely worthless. Properly trained, she could have killed us one by one, and there isn't much I could have done against that."
  
  It wasn't completely unstoppable, since the wielder was a non-Demigod and very mortal young girl.
  
  But in a proper ambush, several Demigods would have died, when none did in this one.
  
  "I am far more worried how they were able to sneak an army of monsters into Manhattan. New York is very much the backyard of Olympus."
  
  "It appears they decided to invite a lot of socialite women from New York into a place they could transform them into monsters. A place which you had already marked as problematic."
  
  This time, Perseus felt the revelation warranted a grimace.
  
  "The Hubris Casino of Las Vegas."
  
  "It burned down last night, courtesy of a strike team lead by servants of the Sun." His chief of staff spoke with an expression filled with disappointment. "They got a few giant spiders, but evidently, the big players had already departed when the New York invasion force left."
  
  They had sent women with the Curse burning down their veins, springing the trap at the last moment possible. A few senior members of the Cult of Arachne had no doubt been committed; some of the monsters had been too experienced to have been corrupted forty-eight hours ago.
  
  "I see. I suppose it makes sense...I didn't have Arachne as one of the beings likely to be part of the leadership of the Coalition, but I suppose she hates Olympus enough for that."
  
  The blonde Demigoddess he shared a Palace with was very displeased.
  
  She had excellent reasons to be; most of her Arachnophobia might be gone, but Annabeth didn't like arachnid horrors.
  
  "There's still a few things I don't understand..."
  
  "Why didn't they try to grab the future Oracle when we were distracted elsewhere in the Sea of Monsters?"
  
  "No, that one is evident. No matter what the Coalition wants, they still have to respect the Ancient Laws. As long as Mrs Dare hadn't awakened her powers past a significant threshold, it didn't matter if it was the Sire of the Drakons or a certain Titan behind the move. They would have paid a terrible price for violating the rules."
  
  No, that part was easily explained. There were a lot of others which did sound...wrong to his suspicious mind.
  
  "I think I will have to speak with my least-favourite traitor. Where is she?"
  
  "Tullianum Prison," Annabeth announced. "But finish your meal first."
  
  "I certainly am going to need the energy," Perseus agreed, praising the day he had found two girlfriends to share his life...
  
  24 June 2007, Tullianum Prison, New Constantinople
  
  Yes, the Roman side of the City of Demigods had a prison, when the Greek one had none.
  
  "Contrary to one might think," Perseus told the Black Queen, who had intercepted him a few streets away, "this doesn't mean the Greek justice is far nicer."
  
  "I heard," the resurrected daughter of Zeus grunted. "Man-to-animal transformations, exile, or death for the capital crimes?"
  
  "That's the principle, yes." He passed a hand in his hair. "And to be fair, it isn't like they don't have a point. Keeping a Demigod in chains is way more dangerous than keeping a tiger in captivity. At some point, usually measured in days, it is utterly counter-productive."
  
  "Yet the Romans have a prison."
  
  "Most of it is empty." The son of Poseidon made some ironic moves with his eyebrows. "I suppose they wanted some monument to impress the masses that crime won't be tolerated."
  
  Tullianum Prison was certainly something...imposing.
  
  Imposing and crude.
  
  It was a large cube of naked stone, and the architects had not spent their time delivering statues or frescoes.
  
  Even if there hadn't been carvings to announce the function of the building, anyone could have guessed it was a prison.
  
  Obviously, it took the best part of one hour to enter and reach their destination. With the events of Manhattan fresh in everyone's mind, and the presence of a big traitor inside the prison, the security had been multiplied a hundred times. Nymphs and Wind Spirits from Olympus had been deployed. Cyclops had brought several modern weapons to make sure any attempted rescue would be drowned into the blood of the attackers. There were explosives too, enough to make a penguin jealous.
  
  But the best defence of Tullianum, from what Perseus could see, was that it existed on different layers of reality. You couldn't get from one to the next without proper magical passwords, and the wardens of the prison had to reveal them to you and give you the permission to proceed to the next layer.
  
  It wasn't perfect. Perseus guessed it would take him a few days to escape something like that.
  
  But with the rest of the security measures - some of them he could not see because the guards were not going to let him examine his surroundings - this was still a very serious effort to make sure any inmate didn't decide to get out on his or her own.
  
  As predicted, all the cells their feet led them to were empty.
  
  There were always a few Legionnaires guilty of unruly behaviour in peace time, but today, they clearly had been thrown out.
  
  And with every layer, the atmosphere changed. Perseus couldn't be sure, but they had gone seriously deep into the entrails of the world now. The sensation was...unpleasant.
  
  It wasn't Hell yet, and thanks the Gods for that - the Oath of not returning there was still as binding as the day he had uttered it.
  
  Finally, the last warden led Thalia and himself to the very cell they'd come to visit.
  
  Though cell might be the wrong word.
  
  It was as if the Gods had decided to build a miniature island suspended above the Abyss itself.
  
  "They could have built a wooden bridge as the only access, just to build up the ambiance."
  
  "Jackson, shut up," Thalia Grace ordered.
  
  Perseus closed his mouth, though he didn't stop grinning.
  
  Yes, an imposing stone bridge linked the entrance to the levitating miniature island.
  
  The twice-lived Villains walked at a steady pace towards Nocturna.
  
  The fake human appearance had now two arms; visibly the regeneration abilities had been allowed to kick in when they changed Bianca's chains for others, more efficient ones.
  
  They had also strapped her to a large pillar shining with quantity of runes, which looked like...it would be a problem for anyone to escape. Perseus' estimate to how long it would take to escape Tullianum rose exponentially in the next seconds.
  
  Someone had given undergarments for Nocturna to hide her modesty, but it had been the only concession done.
  
  And honestly, it wasn't like the black-haired-looking traitor wanted more cloth.
  
  "Only two?" she smirked as they arrived a couple of feet away from her. "I expected more...but with precognition denied to me here, I am more easily surprised."
  
  "Bianca wanted to test a few ideas which might involve crucifying you and other fun things." The leader of the Suicide Squad shrugged. "I can summon her, if you want."
  
  Nocturna smiled.
  
  "I am not in a position to oppose it, no?"
  
  "You deserve far worse."
  
  The words led to the fake black eyes to shift to Thalia.
  
  "And what would you do to me, oh daughter of the King?"
  
  "I would find a way to make you human again."
  
  "Ah," the traitor looked impressed for a second. "Yes, that would be a cruelty and an act of compassion like nothing else. If you could, that is."
  
  "You don't think it is possible." No, Perseus didn't need to consult charts or ask for ritual studies to know that.
  
  "What I did, I did it of my own will," Nocturna's lips thinned. "I have no regrets."
  
  "You became a damn monster for the sole privilege of serving a damn reptile which will use you like a toy!"
  
  "I know exactly what I did, Thalia Grace. I became stronger. I evolved. In a world where mortals are a currency expended on a thousand battlefields with barely a tear, I now fly over the slaughterhouses. I am Nocturna."
  
  There wasn't a trace of regret, not that Perseus had expected one. With the ritual she had done, discarding her humanity, it was quasi-certain she had lost the ability to feel any.
  
  This appearance was a lie anyway; the real Nocturna was the bat monster.
  
  "I have questions. About the power you used during your not-Apotheosis ritual when you betrayed us inside the Forge of All Perils."
  
  "The Olympians are still keeping you ignorant and blind?" Nocturna this time bared her fake teeth. "You have chosen the wrong side, I think."
  
  "There is only my side, I will let you know."
  
  "Is there? At a certain point you were ready to betray everyone and climb on the corpses of everyone and everything to take the Kingship. But now...now you are Cursed, and forging ties of Lust and Friendship. You have grown softer Perseus Jackson."
  
  "I know exactly what I did, Nocturna." Yes, it was a bit childish to repeat the words, but they were absolutely true, so why not? "I have no regrets."
  
  In the end, that was the most important thing, no?
  
  The son of Poseidon nodded a last time, and then turned away.
  
  He wouldn't get the answers that had been denied by the Olympians here; but that had always been an unlikely outcome anyway.
  
  "So fast?" Thalia asked, visibly confused. "We could-"
  
  "What, torture her? Black Queen, you know better than anyone it is not going to give us the answers we seek. We crippled half of her body in a single attack, and she didn't scream in pain. I don't think she is susceptible to psychological torture either. As for threatening her with death and a touristic interlude in the Fields of Punishment, my Uncle was quite pessimistic this would be possible."
  
  That didn't mean someone wouldn't be stupid enough to try, but Perseus would be damned if it was him.
  
  Thalia glared at Nocturna. It was kind of threatening.
  
  It did absolutely nothing to the prisoner, as expected. Nocturna had been trained by a giant Serpent bigger and longer than several New York skyscrapers. She had been corrupted with something that Perseus suspected to be tied to one Primordial or another.
  
  The angle of fear was impossible to exploit here.
  
  "Let's go."
  
  "I thought you would ask more questions."
  
  "Really?" Perseus said blandly without looking back, beginning to walk away. "I am surprised...you didn't intend to answer any."
  
  Nocturna's laughter echoed in the prison of Tullianum.
  
  "You're...not completely wrong, Jackson. I will only answer one question. In your opinion, why did your plan work so well against the Drakon? Why did the Goddess of the Hunt refuse to come help her servants?"
  
  Here come the poisoned dagger...and a lot of bad feelings he had just resurfaced.
  
  He stopped his walk.
  
  There was no use pretending he wasn't interested.
  
  "I had assumed," he began coldly, "that my imminent death was worth more than a few Huntresses' lives."
  
  "You're not completely wrong." Nocturna drily retorted. "But it is only partially correct, this time. The reason Artemis couldn't rush to the rescue is not because of unwillingness alone, it was because she couldn't. When facing Drakons imbued with divine power, the strength of the daughter of Leto fails her."
  
  That would explain certainly why-
  
  One second.
  
  "We're speaking of the punishment for a broken Oath." He should know, having made a few of them. "But the ones which invoke the Goddess of Hatred do not work like that."
  
  "You're right," it was clear Nocturna was having a lot fun plunging the dagger. "But an Oath where the Earth Mother is invoked as a Binder absolutely does."
  
  That was...that stretched credulity to its breaking point.
  
  "I do not believe you."
  
  "My Sire was able to hear the Oath when it was spoken, Perseus. He showed me the truth."
  
  This was the time when he very much wanted to force her to swear one, just to be sure. Unfortunately, the bat traitor knew only what Python had told her. She would swear that what she had been taught was the truth as far as she could verify it, and the Suicide Squad and himself wouldn't be closer to the incredible secret...
  
  "Who knows among the Council?" Thalia asked.
  
  "Ah, now that's a good question," Nocturna praised her. "The King of the Gods and his daughter herself. No one else knows what she has done."
  
  "And I presume you're not going to reveal exactly the circumstances which made this Oath necessary, or why it was broken in the first place?"
  
  "Why would I do that? It will be far funnier to see you squirm in search of the scraps your masters will refuse to you."
  
  "You are really an evil bitch that deserves to be crucified." The girl who had been the Black Queen spat.
  
  "And yet I can fly, where you are stuck in the mud where your parents are content to let you bleed and die."
  
  They left the prison cell.
  
  There was nothing left to say, really.
  
  25 June 2007, Temple of Athena, New Byzantium
  
  Rachel was really conflicted as her parents left the room.
  
  For the good news, her father and mother knew now she wasn't crazy. They knew why she had flinched so many times in public - she was able to see the monsters for what they were.
  
  For the bad news, she still had to do her homework and keep following classes, no matter the distance separating her from her school. One might think almost getting killed would warrant a few years of free time, but no such luck.
  
  Not when Athena, the Goddess, was in agreement with her parents on the subject.
  
  How did Rachel know it was the real Athena?
  
  Well, the Olympian Goddess had abandoned the business suit she had donned for the meeting with her parents, and flash-changed for what looked sci-fi hoplite armour.
  
  "School is important. Academics are important."
  
  Rachel couldn't help but throw a barb. She'd never been shy about telling other girls and women what she thought of them, and she wasn't going to stop now.
  
  "Mathematics and mastery of English literature isn't of much use when monsters come for you." The clear-sighted girl argued back. "Only the Thread was."
  
  "I would advise you not to practise until your future teacher is here to give you some training," the Goddess feigned to not have heard the first part, clearly.
  
  "You have a teacher for wielding Ariadne's Thread?" no, she didn't keep the incredulity out of her voice.
  
  "Ariadne, daughter of Minos, once Queen of Crete, now a full-fledged Goddess in her own right, and wife of Dionysus," Athena commented as it was absolutely normal. "Since she is the only person to have mastered the gift you do possess, I strongly advise following her guidance on the matter."
  
  "Err...okay." What else was she supposed to say? 'I promise I won't hate the Professor at first glance?'
  
  That was good for the super-heroine stuff Rachel had been able to do.
  
  "There isn't an Oracle Professor in this cool city of yours?"
  
  "There isn't, no." Athena confirmed with a thin smile. "Besides the fact this is not my city, obviously, the situation on the Oracle front is...concerning. We won't be able to offer you a teacher. And I strongly advise you to not remove the bracelets around your wrists."
  
  "I will continue to paint."
  
  "Paint is not the problem, Mrs. Dare, and you know it. Each time you wanted to paint some extraordinary scenes you couldn't know from your experiences alone, you used the Oracle's powers, consciously or unconsciously. These bracelets will release electric shocks if you attempt it here."
  
  Rachel swallowed. This was better and worse than what she had thought.
  
  "And the stuff Nocturna forced me to swallow? It isn't going to...cause me to transform into a monster?"
  
  "No." The blunt, honest answer reassured her. "What the servant of the Great Serpent forced you to swallow was three seeds of a Golden Apple of the Hesperides. This was part of the ritual every girl chosen to become the Oracle of Delphi ever followed. Though the fact Nocturna did instead of a priest of Apollo is...extremely irregular."
  
  Irregular wasn't the word Rachel would use, but best not to tell the Goddess that.
  
  Those grey eyes were very, very intimidating when they stared at you.
  
  "As long as you don't don the cursed artefacts the Great Serpent wanted to use to subjugate your body and mind, you have nothing to fear when it comes to monstrous transformation."
  
  Right. What a relief!
  
  She was only at risk from giant spiders, and a Serpent that from what the Demigods involved in her rescue had said, was bigger than the Empire State Building!
  
  No big deal, right?
  
  "Now we have to speak of your living arrangements." The Goddess told her in a tone that broke no argument.
  
  The sound of a door opening didn't feel like a coincidence.
  
  Three teenagers came forwards, all in T-Shirts and jeans.
  
  One of them she was familiar with. The two others were girls with bows and arrows. One had the Asian look; the other had...blue hair, and released an impression of...cold.
  
  They didn't attract much attention, compared to the grinning boy leading them.
  
  "Lady Athena!" no, she had not imagined the red eye of the boy during the Battle of Central Park. "I am honoured by the privilege-"
  
  "You will grant Mrs. Dare the hospitality of your Enclave, Perseus Jackson." Athena did not ask; she commanded. "Her parents have already agreed to a suitable payment for house renting and a painting atelier. In return, I will mostly ignore what my daughter and you are doing with an appalling lack of discretion."
  
  "There is no need to resort to threats so fast," it was a bit scary that the grin didn't lessen in any noticeable way. "Is it not going to be predictable? Nocturna's master will have anticipated that you will let her stay in my Enclave."
  
  "You have proved you can defeat a horde of monsters by yourself," the hoplite Goddess dismissed the statement within seconds. "And the alternative is placing her in the Barrack of Hermes, which I am sure, you will be happy to explain to her parents. One of them happens to be the billionaire Faolan Dare, of Dare Enterprises and Consulting. I'm certain a Demigod as knowledgeable as you must have heard of them."
  
  "That Dare family, I understand." Usually, plenty of people went from serious to absolutely sycophantic when they knew that.
  
  Perseus Jackson just shrugged, like it was no big deal. Then again, from her visions, she had seen him slay a monster as big as a skyscraper...
  
  "In the name of security, I just invoke the privilege of keeping her out of the Palace where I live. The accursed items have been placed into a high-security vault, per the orders of Lord D., until-"
  
  "Yes. Better she stay away from...all possible temptations. Any other requests?"
  
  The grin disappeared at last, replied by something that was a bit...dangerous.
  
  "I don't see any other problems regarding Mrs. Dare's presence, no. But I must speak of an entire and completely different topic. The more details are revealed about this Quest, Goddess? The more it feels we were baited into rushing to Manhattan, and that our victory or defeat wasn't important. The Great Serpent had to send Nocturna, but he could have sent Lesser Drakons and a small army of Iguanas. The Titan could have sent the infamous Clay Automatons his brother created for his use. The-"
  
  "You are wise beyond your age, Perseus Jackson. But do not meddle in matters that the Council feels is its privilege to handle. There are already several members angry at the fact that you used the first pretext that came your way to leave New Byzantium. Unless Nocturna chose to confess the exact extent of her Sire's crimes?"
  
  "No. No, she did not."
  
  "Then this isn't a problem you have to concern yourself anymore. Apollo and Artemis are on their way, by the will of King Zeus."
  
  If anything, Rachel didn't think Perseus Jackson and the two other girls were very reassured by the end of the sentence...
  
  25 June 2007, Tullianum Prison, New Constantinople
  
  Nocturna had known they would come.
  
  No, it hadn't been the vision of an Oracle. Those were denied to her for now.
  
  It had just been basic intelligence.
  
  She knew some of the plans of her Sire, and none of them included she or the future Prime Oracle staying for long at the mercy of Zeus and his lackeys.
  
  And while it was certain the other Lords of the Coalition had pushed for her capture so that they could score one point against her Sire...the move didn't make much sense if it was done for the sake of petty moves.
  
  No, the only plan which made sense was the one where she was the bait.
  
  And the only reason why she hadn't been informed...was that no matter how hard an interrogator would try, there was no way to force someone to reveal what the prisoner didn't know.
  
  They would come.
  
  Nocturna knew Arachne had been almost maniacal in her willingness to erase all traces of her deeds in and near the Hubris Casino.
  
  There would be some false leads, enough to waste the time of a God or two, but the illusion couldn't be convincing enough for long-term purposes. They would waste a day or two, nothing more.
  
  Where would they turn for answers next?
  
  The answer was not really complicated.
  
  That was why she was sure they would come.
  
  The only question was how long it was going to take.
  
  As the heavy vault-like door opened again, Nocturna knew the moment had come.
  
  "We should have chained her over the Void. A fitting punishment and an example to all would-be traitors."
  
  "Are we sure one must discuss punishment, daughter of Leto? Because oath-breaking in the world we live into carries punishments as dire as-"
  
  The arrow came so close to her throat that she was pretty sure she was going to have a mark for the next few minutes.
  
  As weakened as she was, Nocturna hadn't even seen the bow being drawn.
  
  "Artemis."
  
  "What? The traitor deserves it."
  
  "I seem to remember we agreed to not succumb to her provocations."
  
  "I do not answer her provocation. I literally make sure she understands that the next one will tear her flesh apart, and I will not be as merciful as Dionysus. I won't allow her regeneration to stay active. If she wants to enjoy having half of her limbs for a year or two, I think I can oblige her."
  
  And they called her a monster.
  
  Before the ritual which had seen her discard the last of her humanity, Nocturna had wondered many times how many Demigods had perished because they'd learned some of the awful sins of the side they served.
  
  You couldn't convince the Half-Blood Questers and Demigods that siding with the lesser evil was the better option every time.
  
  By the Pit of Tartarus, you sometimes couldn't convince a Demigod to side with the hungriest predators of the pack. Not every generation had a Perseus Jackson, after all.
  
  The thoughts ended as they had crossed the bridge, and were now close enough to be considered at close-quarters.
  
  "I suppose Arachne must have escaped, for you to come to visit my humble cell." She didn't make it a provocation this time. "I was not expecting you to come so soon."
  
  The pain erupted in her essence a heartbeat later, and simulacrum bones broke.
  
  An invincible fist began to tighten around her throat-
  
  "Artemis."
  
  "Her snake of a Master can tolerate her insolence; I won't."
  
  The power trying to strangle her disappeared.
  
  She was able to observe the face of her enemy.
  
  It was...kind of disappointing.
  
  Without her superior sight, the only thing she could perceive was that of an older teenage girl, dressed in ranger brown clothes. It was a sight you wouldn't find very intriguing if you saw it at the edge of some European or American woods.
  
  There was no jewellery in sight, and the only tell-tale evidence this was no normal Huntress was the furred cape which had been obtained by slaying a werewolf, and the silver bow made of divine-crafted metal and wood.
  
  The brown hood hid most of her traits, though Nocturna could see from the braid that the mane had to be a reddish-brown when released.
  
  But this was Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt, poster child of practically everything that was wrong with the Olympian Order.
  
  "My Sire," Nocturna bared the teeth of her fake body, "wondered if you had liked the little theatrical performance of Commodus raping your servants."
  
  This time she saw the first blows coming.
  
  For all the good it did.
  
  Yes, the pain was excruciating.
  
  And when it ended, she was bleeding a lot.
  
  The daughter of Zeus had not held back her blows...or in one case, her arrow.
  
  Another immortal entered her field of vision as her strength, already awfully limited, waned to a new disastrous level.
  
  "Was it really needed?"
  
  "Ah, Apollo." She had wondered if her Sire had exaggerated by telling her he was the 'Golden Child'.
  
  It seemed he had not.
  
  Oh, Apollo had not come with his skin painted gold. His fashion sense was not that bad.
  
  But the feeling you got by looking at him was... 'guy who wishes to emulate the Olympian athletes, despite knowing he is not'.
  
  The male body which could be seen was close to perfection, with superb abs, and everything. His hair could be best described as 'perfect blonde', and his eyes burned like the sun. His tanned skin was just tanned enough to convince you he played beach-soccer regularly.
  
  The neat and not-so-humble white clothes the son of Zeus wore hinted that he had been playing golf before coming here.
  
  "If it is to hire me for an Oracle job, I am afraid I already have accepted someone else's proposal."
  
  "There is no need for this kind of hostility between us."
  
  Nocturna laughed...which resulted her in gurgling out black blood.
  
  "I...I can't honestly tell if you really believe that, or you just think you can play the 'good cop' in the whole torture session."
  
  "We haven't tortured you."
  
  "You haven't tortured me yet." Nocturna shook her head. "And maybe you, God of the Sun, Music, and Bad Poetry have indeed decided you are above that sort of thing. But your sister? Your sister is dreaming of cutting me apart."
  
  Last vestige of honesty or not, the Goddess of the Moon didn't refute her words.
  
  "Should you reveal where your Sire has decided to hide after he fled from Arcadia-"
  
  "Please don't insult me, Apollo," she grunted, annoyed he was trying that move reeking of naivety and sugary gentleness. "You will never let me go free except by throwing me into the Pit, and I will be very insulted if you pretend otherwise."
  
  "I told you it was a waste of time."
  
  Nocturna rolled her eyes. Twice.
  
  "With my powers negated as they are, I can't even sense my Sire at the moment. So no, I am unable to tell you where he is...not that I would if it was something my senses allowed to me to perceive."
  
  "Artemis, you-"
  
  The two huge silvery knives had been unsheathed. Yes, Nocturna was aware it was going to be...painful.
  
  "She is one of his claimant Oracles, and he hasn't finished forging her anew into one of his weapons. They are linked in a bond of Sire and Slave. The Slave is here, and the Hunt is my Domain. I will find the bond, and we will track the Sire from here."
  
  Silver-coloured eyes burned.
  
  "Unless the Slave is ready to spill all the secrets her Sire revealed to her? Like the identities of every Lord and Lady of the Coalition?"
  
  Nocturna spat more black blood.
  
  "I won't reveal anything more than what your arrogance deserves, daughter of Leto." It was a good thing her threshold when it came to pain was so much efficient than the one when she had been a Demigoddess. Still, it didn't mean it was going to be pleasant. "Do your worst."
  
  The daughter of Leto, unfortunately, also was the daughter of Zeus.
  
  She wasn't reluctant in the least to do it.
  
  25 June 2007, 'Invictus' Vault, under the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  It was slightly amusing that the Champions of the Hell Queens, Hera, and all the ex-Huntresses had begun following him everywhere.
  
  Yes, Perseus had told them it wasn't their fault.
  
  No, they couldn't be blamed for something he had totally failed to predict. It wasn't like Demigods and Demigoddesses were supposed to be ready to answer the call of duty at every hour of the day and the night, every single day of the year.
  
  They had a divine part inside of them, sure. This part was tiny though, and there was a lot of mortal flesh overwhelming it. They had a life outside the Quests, besides of course the basic requirements of eating, sleeping, drinking, and more.
  
  Well, they were following him everywhere save the toilets now. If it lasted long enough, it wasn't going to be very good for him. There were already enough of those moronic 'harem rumours' spreading across New Byzantium.
  
  And now that the comical consequences were expedited, it was time for the very serious and awful consequences.
  
  The son of Poseidon didn't say a word when pincer-machines bought from the firms of Hephaestus opened the boxes.
  
  Bianca's curse did tell the whole story without a word on his part, thank you very much.
  
  "That bad, eh?"
  
  Thalia's intervention raised a bit the morale of the Suicide Squad. Not much, but every little bit counted.
  
  "You're not a peasant, you know very well it was bad, Grace." The former Dread Empress glared at the boots. "I don't want to get closer to that. Jackson, how the hell did you miss something like that inside the Forge of All Perils?"
  
  "I didn't miss it," he replied honestly. "There was just the minor problem that it was surrounded by thousands of cursed artefacts, you know. When the danger is everywhere, it's really difficult to point out which is the grenade most likely to blow up in your face."
  
  Moreover, he hadn't seen the betrayal of Bella Medina coming. There had been no warning he could have used. It wasn't similar to the permanent hostility of the Huntresses!
  
  "At the time, I believed the orders 'don't touch it' and 'stay the hell away from these accursed things' were sufficient and shining with common sense." The former Tyrant shrugged. "I was wrong."
  
  "Yes, you were," but Bianca di Angelo's anger was gone. Her magic was swirling around her, casting dozens of detection spells which came into existence only to be disintegrated incredibly quickly. "The Sire of the Drakons has been incredibly thorough."
  
  "As could be expected," it would have been good if it wasn't the case, but Python wasn't an amateur. "You can confirm the boots and the gloves are made of his scales?"
  
  "I can confirm those two cursed artefacts are made of Drakonic scales, and imbued with incredibly potent magic." The daughter of Hades grimaced. "We have not obtained any scales from the Sire in our dangerous Quests. I don't have anything to compare the boots and the gloves to."
  
  "True." The day was not getting any better, and there were a lot of hours left. "Can you confirm at least these were made for Mrs. Dare?"
  
  "Oh yes," the black-haired sorceress confirmed three seconds later. "Those are exclusively for her, of this I have no doubt. The boots could do for anyone with Oracle talents, I suppose, but the gloves were crafted and tied to her...painting essence, if that makes sense? Rachel Dare used the Sight to peer into the past, present, and future, and she did it through the art of painting. The gloves were made for her, and will probably kill anyone stupid enough to don them."
  
  "Death by gloves?" Hera whispered in the background. "Now this is not common..."
  
  As amusing as it would be to launch a monologue, Perseus decided to ignore the opportunity.
  
  "Was there...err...something that would push the holder of the boots to return by the Sire's side?" he asked instead. "Nocturna seemed in a hurry to obey him when she finished her bat transformation, though I suppose telepathic commands are a possibility too."
  
  "I don't know!"
  
  When someone as gifted when it came to sorcery as Bianca di Angelo told you that...it was not a good day to be a Villain.
  
  "Zones Mortalis?" Annabeth cleared her throat. "I seem to remember you mentioned a few of them were strongly tied to Oracles."
  
  "I...I find it unlikely the Great Serpent would try something with the Grove of Dodona, though it is better known as the Forest of Dodona these days, or the Vale Without End." And those were the respectful, courteous names which were given to it. "This Zone Mortalis has a Titaness sleeping somewhere in it, and no one wants to anger her."
  
  That was why he had entered and fled barely two hours after entering it when he was young. There was something called 'risk', and braving the dangers of this forest went far beyond that.
  
  "Yes," Jade was the first one to support the sane course of action. "Let us avoid a battle with another Titaness, please."
  
  "The others...well, there are the Halls of Fire. It is a Zone Mortalis, and it was supposed to be the big obstacle course protecting the Oracle at Didyma. But I don't know how the hell it could be used against Olympus. There were servants of the God of the Sun and the God of the Forge last time I visited."
  
  "What about the Mist Tombs?" the Black Queen intervened.
  
  Perseus blinked.
  
  "I'm surprised you know about this one."
  
  "I have a lot of reading to catch up to you," the daughter of Zeus stayed modest. "Well?"
  
  "It was named the Siwa Oasis in the old times, and indeed known nowadays as the Mist Tombs, as well as the Challenge of the Catacombs." The leader of the Suicide didn't try to play too many philosophical games here. "It could have had some merit, if of course there hadn't been the recent Apotheosis of an Egyptian Queen recently. Security must have been reinforced by the King of the Gods; anything else is impossible to imagine."
  
  If Jupiter had failed to do that, he didn't deserve to stay the King, and no, it wasn't an exaggeration.
  
  "The other Zones Mortalis aren't directly involving Oracles, no matter if you count Hell as one or not."
  
  At the risk of repeating the evidence, the lack of information was really the foundations for an epic screw-up.
  
  "There is something." Bianca said slowly, as her hands were shrouded in black magic. The hope didn't last long, however. "I don't know if it will be really useful, but the gloves and the boots have something in common."
  
  "We're listening."
  
  "It might be nothing, but these two accursed artefacts are under a chain of spells which makes them react when they are exposed to the same amount of sunlight."
  
  "Hmm...well, Mrs. Dare is supposed to be a claimant to the Prime Oracle, and though no God has come forwards to say it, I deducted easily that means Delphi. And this Oracle had a lot of Priestesses of the current Sun God for millennia."
  
  "I thought the same, Perseus," Bianca frowned. "But to be honest, if the Sire had intended to go with that, I think he would have used a stronger symbiotic connection, because the sunlight necessary to unlock...something...is not that great. It's dancing at the edge of the Sun Domain, at best."
  
  "Dancing at the edge?"
  
  "Dawn," the daughter of Hades glared at him. "Dawn or Sunset. You didn't happen to kiss a daughter of Love which was tied to Dawn recently?"
  
  Perseus ignored the barb.
  
  Yes, he had kissed Piper McLean, but it was unimportant.
  
  "Not Dawn," he coldly replied. "Sunset."
  
  How had he missed that?
  
  Because it was not a Zone Mortalis.
  
  It had never been a Zone Mortalis, though it was filled with dangers which could kill veteran Demigods.
  
  How could he have missed it?
  
  Athena had told him. Rachel Dare had been forced to eat a few seeds of the Golden Apples. It should have been a brutal wake-up. This was not the normal thing you found on the Internet, damn it!
  
  And Nocturna-
  
  Nocturna, the Suicide Squad, all of them; they had been nothing more than bait.
  
  Everything in the last days had been just bait, from claimant and potential Oracles to the Cult of Arachne, and from Demigods to incredible amounts of weapons.
  
  "The Sun and the Moon," plenty of the girls looked at him in incomprehension. "Python's plan was never about the Oracles! His entire plan is about baiting Apollo and Artemis into pursuing him! This is why Nocturna, if she failed, was supposed to be captured! Once they will exploit the link between Sire and Servant, they will know where Python hides, never realising this is part of his plan! He wants them to come to the Garden of Hesperides, the minor Domain of Sunset!"
  
  It might very well be too late. No, scratch that, it was certainly too late.
  
  But while he didn't love at all the immortals about to fall into this Trap, it was out of the question to hand out a victory to the Coalition.
  
  "Annabeth! Run to the upper floors, and as soon as the signal is good, call Richard! He should be the closest member we have to Tullianum Prison! Tell him he is to scream to the Twins to stop! Nocturna is the bait to force them to move onto the Garden of Hesperides, and it is vital they don't respond!"
  
  "But...what kind of trap-"
  
  "I don't know!" It enraged him...but it was frankly unimportant at this hour. "I assume though that if they bothered making something so complicated, the plan is good and has high odds of working!"
  
  25 June 2007, Tullianum Prison, New Constantinople
  
  Richard ran like the Erinyes were in pursuit, and the wardens of Tullianum, sensing his urgency, were doing minor miracles to accelerate the unlocking procedures every time they saw him sprinting.
  
  Richard ran as fast as he could.
  
  Some other Demigods would tell him his urgency was not necessary. After all, hadn't there been a small squad of lesser Gods waiting on the doorstep of the Prison? Surely it meant the deities he was supposed to contact were still busy inside!
  
  Unfortunately for this theory, while the common Demigods could only leave Tullianum via the grand and austere exit he had used several minutes ago, the Gods weren't so limited. According to the Legionnaires he had drunk with several times in the past, there was an Olympian-only exit somewhere on the layer.
  
  Thus no, not seeing anyone getting out was not the same as the immortals he was seeking being still in the place.
  
  "I don't care about what you do-"
  
  "Ta! Ta! Ta!" Richard didn't remember the name of the warden, but he was sure he was going to learn of it, if only to order Perseus Jackson to make his life hell in the near-future. "You are not on the visiting list of today, Richard Grant. As a result, I am afraid-"
  
  The son of Hercules brutally lost his self-control.
  
  "THE WORLD IS AT STAKE, YOU IMBECILE! DO YOU WANT TO BE THE ONE TO DELIVER A VICTORY TO THE COALITION?"
  
  "No..." the man was now staring at him in utter terror. And he had relieved himself on the spot, if his pants were any indication. "I will...I will unlock the next level...please, don't hurt me..."
  
  Richard growled and then resumed his running.
  
  Maybe it wasn't as bad as the leader of the Suicide Squad had feared. Maybe the plan was misunderstood.
  
  Maybe-
  
  It still was better to stop everything and reinforce the defences of New Constantinople.
  
  If Perseus was right, the enemy had piled up bait after bait in front of them, throwing one large victory into the pyre, just to prepare this trap.
  
  That said quite very ugly things about-
  
  Richard was about to reach the final door when the smell struck him.
  
  "What...what is that? It feels like...flesh and blood?"
  
  The last warden had the good sense to look a bit ill-at-ease.
  
  "It began a few minutes ago, son of Hercules." By the way the warden looked at his feet, Richard was going to bet it had lasted far, far longer than that. "The Mighty King of the Sun ordered me to not bother them unless they requested my presence or there was an emergency, and...ahem..."
  
  "You stayed guarding the door for the last hour?"
  
  "What? Oh, no! I had to do my report, the usual paperwork of the day, you know. I was absent for...what, fifteen minutes? Don't look at me like that! It isn't like the prisoner is going to escape with two Olympians in the room!"
  
  "She isn't going to go free," Richard was forced to admit. "But I have to insist you open this door. An emergency has struck outside, and I have to inform the Olympian Twins immediately."
  
  "All right, if you feel the situation warrants it...give me a few minutes to reopen the door...err...you will be the one to face the consequences, right? The Goddess of the Hunt looked particularly murderous today, and-"
  
  "I will take responsibility," Richard gritted his teeth, forcing himself to tolerate the delay. He was grown used to it, now, and sadly his impatience wouldn't vanish by cursing this particular employee of Tullianum.
  
  Though his apprehension doubled when the metallic barrier began to move, and the smell...it very much smelled like death.
  
  "By the Pit! What have they done here, this was a very clean cell and..."
  
  Richard ignored the imprecation and sprinted for the last time.
  
  All the while his heart was filling itself with despair.
  
  For the cavern-cell?
  
  There was just Nocturna inside and no one else.
  
  And the sight-
  
  Richard managed to cross the bridge.
  
  Afterwards, he couldn't.
  
  This was just-
  
  There was black blood everywhere, and the rest-
  
  Richard wasn't exactly faint-hearted.
  
  Before joining the Suicide Squad, he had seen ugly situations.
  
  Here, though...here it was just butchery.
  
  The human body of Nocturna had lost its left arm and right leg, and it hadn't been because of any action taken by the Suicide Squad.
  
  The rest, the parts which hadn't been severed, looked like someone had tried to whip her to death, before mutilating her further.
  
  Richard had no love for the traitor.
  
  Seriously, Nocturna must pay for what she had done.
  
  But that...madness. Madness and Butchery.
  
  It looked like a psychopath had decided to...
  
  Richard vomited.
  
  Once he had emptied his stomach and his head felt a bit clearer, he managed at last to scream.
  
  "MEDIC!" Realising his mistake a second later, he corrected himself. "CALL LORD DIONYSUS! CALL HIM IMMEDIATELY!"
  
  The warden, who looked as lost as he was, nodded desperately and raced for the exit.
  
  There was so much blood. There was so much tortured flesh.
  
  There was-
  
  The eyes of Nocturna opened.
  
  She was still alive after...everything that had to be done to her?
  
  "Richard...Grant..." the words were almost incomprehensible, given that half of the teeth were missing, and black blood was running out of the mouth. "Are...they...gone?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  Richard was loyal. Or he would have described himself as loyal before seeing...that.
  
  No, he wasn't blind to what Perseus Jackson was doing and-
  
  It didn't matter.
  
  What was wrong with the Olympians?
  
  By comparison, the threats of the Lightning Thief to crucify them once per day were amusing! Most of what their crazy leader had executed was done in good cheer and rarely punished anyone unjustly!
  
  This was just butchery.
  
  Worse, it might just be that Python had anticipated Apollo and Artemis would indeed do it and that way, fall into his trap.
  
  "I don't...have...much time..." the eyes closed again, and this time, more blood was flowing out. Her mangled body began to shake uncontrollably.
  
  Richard cursed.
  
  He cursed, and he didn't move.
  
  There was nothing he could do.
  
  Unless a God with healing skills came in the next couple of minutes, Nocturna would die; that was a statement, not a question.
  
  It would be the final curse atop a dark day.
  
  Because the son of Hercules knew where the two missing Olympians had rushed out.
  
  Sure, one could pray they had been smart, and returned to Olympus to summon an army or inform the Council of their findings.
  
  Unfortunately, he didn't have any strength in his heart to believe it.
  
  The God of the Sun and the Goddess of the Moon had departed the prison to hunt down Python.
  
  They were racing towards the Garden of the Hesperides, and a trap no one had seen coming until it was too late.
  
  25 June 2007, the Garden of Hesperides
  
  The moment his boots touched the soil of the Garden, Apollo knew Python was indeed here.
  
  There wasn't a large advertisement board proclaiming the presence of his arch-enemy, of course.
  
  Python was subtler than that.
  
  It was a series of little clues added to one another which gave out the truth.
  
  There were snakes and reptiles which felt...energised beyond what they should be for the sunset conditions of the Garden.
  
  Many trees looked different. Taller, more beautiful than ever, but different...twisted. The breath of the Sire of the Drakons could boast many properties, and this was definitely one of them. When the Great Serpent didn't want to cause too much collateral damage, it must be mentioned.
  
  "You look so serious, Apollo. You really need a date, I think."
  
  "Not now, Britomartis."
  
  When he had told his sister that bringing the Huntresses was a very bad idea, he had not meant the Cretan Huntress was an acceptable alternative.
  
  But his sister had not asked him the permission, much like-
  
  Apollo banished the dark thought. He felt dirty about it. As the Sun he was supposed to illuminate, not tolerate the sort of desecration that-
  
  "You know, I mean, I was serious about you and Grace Kelly, it wasn't going to work-"
  
  "Britomartis. Somewhere in this Garden, there is a giant reptile, a God-Beast which was old when the King of Titans was crowned. I am going to slay it. I don't need distractions."
  
  The green-hooded Huntress stretched, trying her best to show him her curves. It didn't work. Instead, Apollo noted that the nets and the forest-coloured camouflage were good at hiding the grenades and the various lethal traps Britomartis always carried with her.
  
  His opinion of expert was not optimistic. To hunt the average monster, it was too much. Against Python, it was likely to not even scratch his scales.
  
  "Something happened between Arty and you," whatever her faults - which included throwing him in some tiger pits - you couldn't say Britomartis wasn't observant. It was one of several reasons why she had been among the rare Huntresses in existence to earn her Apotheosis in the last millennia. "What did happen? It's not because of this bastard of Commodus, right?"
  
  It was not, although...maybe indirectly?
  
  Apollo was confident his twin wouldn't have reacted that badly if...no, he couldn't close his eyes upon the problem. Artemis had wanted revenge the moment the 'Third Labour of Commodus' was done, and since his ex-lover was not around to be tortured, anyone more or less associated with the Coalition would do.
  
  "I don't want to speak about it."
  
  "Come on, don't look so dark and gloomy, Golden Boy. You are supposed to explain to me your seductions and how you convince all your lovers, male and female to drop their pants...you know, all the things your sister won't-"
  
  "Stop. We are here to hunt Python. This is all you need to know."
  
  "Oh, that's-"
  
  There was a flash, and his sister arrived, a mask of determination on her face, and not a trace of the blood which had been on her clothes mere minutes ago.
  
  "That's fair, I suppose." The God of Music wasn't surprised Britomartis changed so quickly her tune. You didn't rise so high in the hierarchy of the Huntresses without realising when was the time to argue in front of his sister, and when it wasn't.
  
  Only someone very, very dumb would have argued it was, at his very moment.
  
  "How do we proceed?"
  
  "You and Apollo will deal with Python." Artemis declared. "Apollo will fire the lasers and the plasma he is so happy to showcase in every big military exercise. You support him, Brie."
  
  "Fire support I can do that, yes," the Goddess of the Hunting Traps, and Nets nodded. "And you?"
  
  "I will deal with the back-up and every monster the Coalition will have mustered here." His sister's eyes glared. "There is no way the Serpent decided to stay alone after his former refuge in the ruins of Arcadia was discovered and-"
  
  "You realise I can hear you from where you stand, morsels?" The hiss was filled with contempt, but also amusement. "The perfume alone has disturbed my nap."
  
  Screw it. Clearly the 'surprise attack' wasn't going to work. Plan A was ruined, time for Plan B.
  
  Apollo raced to meet his arch-enemy, expecting it to find him very close to Ladon and the Tree of the Golden Apples.
  
  It wasn't the case.
  
  Instead, he found the Great Serpent in the square of a Dark City of black marble which was rebuilding itself.
  
  The sensation of dread and agony which came from every direction...Apollo couldn't remember feeling it before.
  
  "Impressive, isn't it?" Giant serpentine eyes opened, and the child of Gaea was revealed in its colossal immensity.
  
  As always, the size of Python meant that you knew where the body began, but you didn't know where it ended.
  
  Today, the Sire of the Drakons seemed to have decided to slither around several columns which...were his senses tricking him?
  
  "They are truly reaching the sky, I assure you." Python faked an exaggerated yawn, revealing fangs that by all rights, should be declared a crime for the venom they carried alone. "It took some time for Prometheus to find out where Zeus had hidden the City's ruins. I admit it was fairly clever of the King of the Gods to do it here. Atlas' reputation for ferocity and violence ensures he doesn't get any visitors. And the children of the Gods who survive the Titan of Endurance and his daughters are generally the ones who tried to steal the Golden Apples."
  
  "I...what are you talking about?"
  
  It was somewhat reassuring to see Artemis and Britomartis looked as lost as he was.
  
  There was a loud and terrifying hiss.
  
  "You indeed don't know! I factored it into my plans, but there were contingencies if it wasn't the case. Once again, the paranoia of the King strikes. It blinds his precious children."
  
  Apollo summoned his golden bow into his right hand, and prepared to draw his first arrow.
  
  "Enough of your sordid manipulations, Serpent. Stop twisting the truth, or-"
  
  "Did you never wonder why Hera was given the Garden in the first place? It wasn't because Zeus wanted his Wife to have eternal custody of the Golden Apples, Apollo. It was a guarantee that as long as she held the Queen's Crown, there would be no way the City could be rebuilt."
  
  The child of Gaea hissed one more time, which Apollo interpreted as a shrug.
  
  "Of course, jealousy and a few millennia of infidelities have changed the situation a bit. Most of Hera's power and knowledge is under lock and key these days. People mostly ignored the old truths, assuming they were aware of the City's existence in the first place."
  
  No monsters were trying to take angles of attack against them.
  
  Why was this...this City so silent? So...empty and lifeless?
  
  "What is this City?" He heard his sister ask.
  
  "Ah, the beautiful and terrible question, daughter of Leto," his sister glared, as if Python had slapped her. Fortunately, her self-control held, and she didn't attack. "This City, which is far from complete at this hour, is the Site of Power where Kronos, King of the Titans, organised the Titan's Games where Demi-Titans and mortals in countless numbers bled and died for a single chance to claim immortality."
  
  "I...I have never heard of such a place." And yes, the confession hurt. By the Pit, why had it been hidden from them?
  
  "Well, that's Zeus' fault, not mine," Python hissed smugly, pouring more salt over the injury. "Now, I believe it's time for my plan to go into action."
  
  "We will stop you, Python."
  
  "Stop me, Apollo?" the Sire of the Drakons repeated mockingly. "I am not Commodus. Did you really think I would explain such things to you if there was the tiniest chance you could affect its outcome? The first ritual of the Titan's Game has begun thirty-five minutes ago, coinciding perfectly when we felt you rushing here. The Garden is being sealed as we speak, and within...oh, twelve seconds, Hyperion and Theia are going to place their hands upon the Foundation-Stones. We are all going to be frozen in time, according to the rules, until the Winter Solstice or my plan reach completion."
  
  No.
  
  No, no, no.
  
  Everything...everything so far, the silence of the Oracles, the battles of the Demigods, the ambushes, the provocations...it had been a trap?
  
  It was-
  
  Apollo tried to run.
  
  But he wasn't Hermes, and it felt like suddenly they were trapped into a viscous substance.
  
  The God of the Sun managed two strides before the Power of Time overwhelmed everything and everyone present.
  
  Then came immobility and...nothing.
  
  25 June 2007, the summit of the Aqueduct, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  "I see. There was nothing that could be done."
  
  "If I'd only been a bit faster..."
  
  "Richard. You were almost forty minutes too late, maybe more than that. If you have to blame someone, my tyrannical version of leadership is far more to blame than you are."
  
  "You did your best to save an innocent girl."
  
  Perseus looked at the gulls circling around the shores. He almost envied them right now, for they didn't have to deal with the problems he faced.
  
  "From the moral and tactical viewpoint I have, it was the correct decision. I still believe we couldn't leave Python get an Oracle for free." Yes, Rachel Dare was more or less certain to annoy Annabeth, but...that was a problem for future-Perseus. "From the strategic perspective, we are going to pay dearly for it. You say Lady Ariadne's arrived in time to stabilise Nocturna?"
  
  "Yes, she did. The way she used her Thread...that was an entirely different level of power from what we saw at Manhattan."
  
  "Well," the former Tyrant kept his tone light, "she has had a few millennia of experience and an Apotheosis to learn a few tricks. And yes, it is good that she did. If Nocturna had died, my guess is that we would see her soon back to her Sire's side, with nothing to show for it."
  
  "We don't know how fast she can return once thrown into the Pit, Perseus."
  
  "We don't," he agreed. "But I, for one, am in no hurry to verify if my worst-take guesses will be verified."
  
  The silence of ten good seconds which followed told him the son of Hercules didn't want to find out the hard way either.
  
  "Anyway, good job. You did what you can, it wasn't your fault the game was rigged against you succeeding from the beginning. Seriously, even if you'd arrived in time, they may not have listened to you. They may even have used you as a punching-ball."
  
  "We know who butchered Nocturna. It was certainly the Goddess of the Hunt."
  
  This was really in instances like this one where the heroism of many of his lieutenants shone. They wanted to believe the best of everyone, even the Olympians.
  
  Perseus coldly acknowledged he was way too cynical to think like that.
  
  "You may be correct, Richard. That said, I have to think of some ugly scenarios, and the scenario I figure here is that while the God of Music and Plagues may not have participated in the torture himself, he sure as hell didn't stop his sister. Or it is the inverse. Who knows? We weren't witnesses."
  
  To be honest, it was almost certainly Artemis. Unlike her brother, the Goddess of the Hunt had many, many good reasons to want all the members of the Coalition dead at her feet. And Nocturna had been the first unfortunate enough to fall into her hands. There had never been a way where that story had a happy ending.
  
  "It is not worth spending hours to try what could have been different. What is done...is done. We will see each other at dinner."
  
  Several words of farewell, and the conversation ended.
  
  Perseus placed back the phone in his pocket, and sighed.
  
  "I still want to avoid participating in a Third Great Quest, but it looks like Fate has other plans for me."
  
  Was it too late to create his own private prison, separated from the march of destiny, and wait for old age to claim him?
  
  Yes.
  
  Yes, it was too late.
  
  By trying to prevent something bad at Manhattan, they had all ensured something worse was pulled into action.
  
  "Still, it would be prudent if I could avoid a Great Quest where it is impossible to cheat as outrageously as I did in the first two."
  
  Besides the point that if you weren't cheating, you weren't trying hard enough...they were Demigods. Impossible odds looked very good in a tale where everyone got a happy ending, but in real life, there were an awful lot of people who were buried in the graveyard because the enemy had a vote.
  
  "My Enclave for an army of invincible penguin that I would be able to recruit by the millions to fight all my battles..."
  
  This was when the storm clouds began to assemble, and where they didn't, the canopy of heaven suddenly turned a bloody red.
  
  The Sun and the Moon began to feel wrong. One second later, the feeling was worse, and the two celestial bodies began to change colour. Black, green, blue, red...it was like the Sun and the Moon had suddenly decided to adopt all the colours of the rainbow at irregular intervals.
  
  "Okay, I was joking! This was a joke all right! Only ten thousand penguins?" Half of the sky began to shift to something blacker than ink, and something atrocious shrieked, forcing him to place his hands against his ears. "Five thousand penguins?"
  
  The Sky was truly onyx and crimson now, and the more seconds passed, the worst the sensation felt.
  
  The Sun and the Moon were changing colours faster than you could describe them.
  
  It was not an attack, that much he was sure of, and...it didn't feel like a reaction to anything he had said.
  
  Something loud and metallic was hurling its wrath a long distance away.
  
  It felt like the world was announcing the doom of all things.
  
  "What has the Coalition done this time?"
  
  "They have called up a Titan's Game," red-cloaked and holding a spear, the Goddess of Hearth was suddenly by his side. "The Titan of Crafty Counsel did try many times in the past to convince us it was a good idea; we stopped him every time. It seems his new friends of the Coalition have given him the means to unleash what should have been forgotten."
  
  "A Titan's Game?" He tried to keep his voice as disinterested as possible.
  
  "I see there are some secrets we managed to keep out of your hands, nephew."
  
  In situations like those, it was best to look as innocent as possible.
  
  No, it was in all likelihood not terribly convincing.
  
  "How much time do we have?"
  
  "Six months. At best."
  
  Okay, that one got him completely by surprise. Wait a minute. Six months meant-
  
  "Until the Winter Solstice, yes. It will be at midnight on that very day the Sealing of the Garden of the Hesperides will end no matter the Coalition's plans, and the Titan's Game will truly begin."
  
  The Coalition hadn't been ready, then. You didn't give six months to your foe if you felt confident you could cheat your way to victory.
  
  "I must go." Hestia looked suddenly very, very old. "There is going to be one Emergency Council, again. And to say we had just had ended the last debates about Manhattan this morning..."
  
  The Goddess of Family departed in a flash of fire.
  
  The skies remained unnaturally red-black over New Byzantium. The Sun was green. The Moon was black.
  
  With some imagination, you could almost believe it looked like a nightmarish web, and the Enclave was at the centre of it.
  
  "Dark times, indeed..." he murmured. "Don't think I haven't noticed, Lady Hestia, how you deliberately avoided telling me what exactly a Titan's Game is."
  
  Author's note:
  
  This is where the Dark Times begin...
  
  I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, which was the first update of Arc 3, whose official title is Perseus Jackson and the Titan's Game.
  
  As for the next chapter...its title will most likely be called Interlude Titan's Game too...
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
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  Titan's Game
  Chapter 35
  
  Titan's Game
  
  26 June 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  It had been a long, long time since the atmosphere in the Throne Room had not been so incredibly tense.
  
  Fine, the last instance of something like this occurring had been during the last shenanigans triggered by the Suicide Squad, not even a year ago.
  
  And yet, Hermes couldn't help but think this time, it was far worse.
  
  The history was repeating itself, though.
  
  There were two empty Thrones, and to say the Olympians present were trying to avoid glancing at them was a grand understatement.
  
  "Iapetus' Prison served as a model for the rest." Athena continued in an emotionless tone her report. "Once the jail-breaker avoided the Scythe's Blow and the Fields of Suffering trials by bypassing them entirely through the Garden, he only had to face the Lament of Pain. This was not a test tailored out to specifically stop a break-out attempt made by Demigods. Plenty of blood was shed, but the attempt succeeded. And the Titan was free."
  
  In her hoplite armour, the Goddess of Wisdom was very much the image all mortals would have of the dutiful Protector of Athens. Then again, all the Olympians who had been able to answer the summons were in grand regalia. Even Dionysus had come wearing an immaculate suit - though the fact it was purple with an orchid above his heart was limiting the 'pomp' the God of Wine was willing to tolerate.
  
  "It is a quasi-certainty that one of the conditions which was negotiated to free the Titan of Pain was him to hold the Sky Prison again, meaning the Lord of Endurance himself is free, somewhere in the Garden of Hesperides," his half-sister continued unflinchingly. "This would be bad enough. The reality is somewhat worse: they freed the Lord of Light and the Lady of Splendour as well, though in the latter's case, they sacrificed a lot of servants to do so. They had two elite Demigods for perilous missions; they didn't have three."
  
  "Which does not make a difference from our point of view," Demeter intervened. "I would have thought this kind of scheme would have been anticipated by the Goddess of Strategy."
  
  This was, assuredly, the wrong thing to say.
  
  Hermes had perceived the traces of anger brewing under the stoic mask, controlled, but waiting just a chance to lash out.
  
  This chance, alas, had just arrived.
  
  "Maybe, just maybe, if I had been informed something like this 'Cursed City' existed in the first place, and that it was located in the Garden, I could have imagined counter-measures."
  
  Athena glared at the Goddess of Harvests, and her expression was devoid of any kind of positive feelings.
  
  "Excuses are not-"
  
  "If you want to keep your secrets until the enemy forces them to blow up in our faces, fine," the warrior Goddess's voice remained low and controlled, but the contempt was everywhere. "But do not try to accuse me of not knowing the loopholes when I was kept ignorant of them. I was kept unaware this City existed, that it was Blessed and Cursed by Time, and that it could serve greater purposes. I did not know anything beyond the obvious when it came to the Garden of the Hesperides. Do not try to blame me for your mistakes."
  
  Hermes sympathised with Athena; he hadn't known either. In fact, personally, it was for him way worse: he had seen the ruins of the City, every time he visited Atlas as the Messenger of Olympus.
  
  He had seen the ruins, and he had never thought to ponder whether they were important or not.
  
  "This is not-"
  
  "Enough, Demeter," it had come as an order, but it was far from the usual imperious ones which were delivered on a regular basis recently. "Athena is right."
  
  Hermes almost expected the Master Bolt to make an appearance, but it remained so far out of view.
  
  The King of Gods' expression was grave and troubled nonetheless.
  
  "I was the one who demoted Hera. I was the one who did his best to erase this accursed pit of horror from the world at large. I wanted everyone to forget about it, so that the cruelty of my crooked genitor died with him...forever. I thought it would be enough. I was wrong."
  
  This...this sure as the Pit didn't feel like a cheap admission.
  
  "The end of the report?"
  
  "According to many of our spies, the sons of War who had gone into hiding," Phobos and Deimos, of course, "have been seen coming into the Garden before it was sealed away from the world, and they were leading a legion worth of monsters."
  
  "They went full traitors too?" Alcides - since he preferred it to Heracles and was not shy correcting everyone trying to use the latter - spoke in surprise. "I feel they are going to taste my mace in the next battle we will face each other."
  
  "This will have to wait," a familiar voice spoke as the doors of the Council opened like they weighed nothing. "The Coalition has done its best to avoid a field battle against us so far."
  
  The Lord of the Underworld had come, and his aunt Hestia was following in his footsteps.
  
  "Hades. You came."
  
  "Zeus. Of course I did. The return of the City of Titan's Games into a non-disabled state is a calamity I can't ignore, no matter how much I wished I could."
  
  There was no trace of amusement anywhere in Hades' behaviour, and that he wore his Helm was a statement by itself.
  
  "That the Fire Thief has managed to gather enough Titans around him to fulfil the conditions of 'Four Lords' is worse, I'm sure you will agree. This is not this pretentious and easily manipulated Roman narcissist, and the stakes are far greater than those than an Adjudicator Game."
  
  "I agree," the Master of Olympus said. "However I keep a few cards in my hand. There are still several steps before the Coalition can complete the preparations for a true Titan's Game."
  
  Hermes raised his hand.
  
  "Yes, nephew?"
  
  "Err...sorry to sound like an ignorant child, but what are the Titan's Games?"
  
  Hades' silent gesture towards his brother was something to behold. It was a mix of...resignation and disappointment.
  
  But it had to be acknowledged, Zeus made a single nod. Reluctantly and slowly, but his genitor gave his approval.
  
  "A Titan's Game was the method the King of Titans used to create Titans from the souls and bodies of Demi-Titans in considerable numbers." Hades said bluntly without any attempt to dance around the topic. "By Might and the Ancient Laws, the King of Othrys was limited to a single 'free' Apotheosis per year, and that was in the best of cases. The other methods at his disposal were even more inefficient. Thus the solution found, creating immortals in great numbers during one grand game."
  
  "That sounds...practical," Athena was way more hesitant than she was minutes ago.
  
  "Practical," the King of Hell said with distaste. "That's certainly a way to describe it. From what our mother told us, this was the moment the Titans really began to sire Demi-Titans with mortals. Love and Passion never mattered for the Lords of Othrys; only the ability to create minor Titans which would serve them and be unable to rebel. They weren't very picky regarding what 'mortals' meant either. Plenty of their partners were humans, but others weren't."
  
  Hermes didn't feel very reassured at all. This felt more and more like a 'we need cannon-fodder for our wars'.
  
  "For reasons that don't need to be explained," the King of the Gods took the relay from his brother, "Othrys never cared enough to give out Quests or Legion Expeditions to their descendants. Yet they knew the value of keeping an army of loyal immortals under their tyrannical rule. That's why once every four years, the Titan's Games took place. It was both a way to bolster the numbers of their armies, and a simple action to purge the Demi-Titans to reasonable numbers. It was the philosophy of 'the Mighty will survive' put into practise, with oceans of non-divine blood being shed in the name of the Crooked One."
  
  "That..." Hephaestus coughed loudly. "We're not speaking about a game, here. We're speaking of a massacre contest where the weaker Demigods...I mean, Demi-Titans are killed in droves by their parents!"
  
  "Long before the Titanomachy was on the horizon, the name was already acknowledged as an awful pun," Poseidon, who had remained silent so far, spoke grimly. "The Crooked One insisted, and deliberately used his power so that everyone speaking of it was forced to use the designation he had chosen. One more evidence of his evil sense of humour, though no one really needed to be convinced of that by the time his rule had reached that tipping point."
  
  "It wasn't a Game," the Master of Olympus said darkly. "It never was. It was just an organised form of murder, during which Demi-Titans and innocent mortals were murdered by the tens of thousands for the amusement of the Twelve of Othrys."
  
  "I think we would have heard if there were gladiatorial games taking place in front of the Crooked One's Throne." Dionysus argued.
  
  Zeus laughed.
  
  It was not a kind sound.
  
  "If only the Titan's Games had been limited to a single arena or even a single island, the world would have been a far better place. It was not. They were the rulers of the world, why would they limit themselves to something so small? Several times, the Games ravaged the better part of a continent, killing hundreds of thousands. No."
  
  The Lord of Thunder bared his teeth, and dark clouds thundered above the Council Room.
  
  "What made the Titan's Games particularly redoubtable was the simplicity of the concept. To open one, the King of Othrys had to formally start it, or if he didn't, the Four Lords had to do it in his stead. Then one or two Lords of the Dark Mountain brought their Thrones at the heart of the City. They formally 'wagered' one of their Domains. An impartial Referee was chosen. Once the proper oaths were sworn, they chose the participants. All must have been touched by the Domain, which naturally resulted in plenty of Demi-Titans being branded like cattle."
  
  This was so awful Hermes almost felt it was worthy of some those 'evil comic tales' that were utterly unrealistic.
  
  "Overall, they generally got two to three thousand participants, be they Demi-Titans or disgraced immortals," Hades noted. "In order to make things interesting, the contestants were each given a few hundred mortals to help them, both as meat for the battlefields and support outside of them. Most of the time, those died incredibly quickly."
  
  This was so beyond awful that the Messenger God had trouble finding a word which could serve as the correct definition for it.
  
  "Surely there was a way to adapt and beat the Titans at their own game," Athena said, her mind clearly turning at a frightening speed to solve this strategic puzzle. "You spoke in general terms, but in practise-"
  
  Zeus sighed.
  
  "Many thought the same." The King of Olympus winced. "But it isn't exactly possible. It was a different Titan who was chosen to host the Titan's Games every four years. Yes, there was murder, traps, and an ocean of blood spilled every time. Save the Lords of Othrys laughing every time their children were massacred hundreds by hundreds to satisfy their sick sense of amusement, there was not much in common, though."
  
  Hermes grimaced, and he wasn't the only one among his siblings.
  
  The simplicity of the rules had appeared like a good thing, but it was not. It never was. It gave enormous latitude to the beings overseeing the Titan's Game. Not one would be identical to another. Assuming the Demi-Titans could learn from their predecessors - which was hardly certain - they would only have those basic rules to help them.
  
  It was not enough to save their lives.
  
  "The only real rule all Referees and Hosts had to respect was the duration and the beginning of those atrocities' performances. A Titan's Game has to begin on the Winter Solstice, and can't last more than one year."
  
  "That sounds like plenty of time to me to get stronger," Alcides reacted.
  
  "The Titans did not want to get a boring spectacle of one year, nephew," Hades reacted. "Besides, they didn't want to stay in each other's presence for too long either."
  
  "One must also mention," Poseidon murmured, "that by a certain point, Kronos had thousands of lesser Titans under his rule. As Othrys began to be too crowded, there was less incentive to bolster his armies, and far more to plan for a giant slaughterhouse. We don't know exactly when the point of no return was passed, only that it was before our birth."
  
  "The end of a Titan's Game has always been supposed to see the Demi-Titans gorge themselves upon the life-essence of their fellow Demi-Titans and the tens of thousands of mortals which were sacrificed for the event." This time the Master Bolt appeared, only to disappear again under a considerable effort of will. "However. The first Games, according to the old tales, saw hundreds of winners. By the time the rule of the Crooked One had ceased pretending being anything but a tyranny, Othrys accepted only one or two winners."
  
  Hermes was suddenly very happy that Olympus these days had only to answer accusations of nepotism, corruption, influence struggles, and bad performances during drunken karaoke nights.
  
  "This butchery they had the gall to call a 'Game' was always rigged from the start." Zeus spoke, anger and contempt rolling off him in waves. "Be they Demi-Titans or immortals who had fallen out of favour...they stood little of chance of surviving more than mere hours. Oh yes, power was promised. Power could be grabbed, if you had the will. Othrys played upon your arrogance and pride. It was sheer nonsense. A participant enters the Game with the strength and the potential of a Demigod, and no matter what he or she gains during the contest, there is only one thing waiting at the end of the journey: fighting the Titan who has gambled the Domain, or submit."
  
  Based on what had been said, in many instances, submission had not been offered in the first place.
  
  Nike cleared her throat.
  
  The young Queen was, without surprise, as ill-at-ease as Hermes himself was.
  
  "All of this is absolutely...enlightening, my King, but it doesn't explain how you know so much of a subject which was a cornerstone of the Titan's reign..."
  
  Hades laughed.
  
  "Oh, Victory. I think you already guessed the truth. Millennia ago, your husband, our brother, in order to free us from the belly of our vile genitor, was a participant in a Titan's Game."
  
  Hermes turned his eyes towards the Master of Olympus.
  
  Zeus didn't speak, and his eyes were lost in past memories, unheeding of the stares given the other members of the Council.
  
  The day was full of surprises.
  
  It was the kind of surprises that you didn't want to be on the receiving end of, naturally.
  
  Honestly, if he wasn't sure to have received a few thunderbolts as punishment, Dionysus would have begun to empty a barrel of wine here and there.
  
  There had been enough bad news to require the entire stocks produced by his European worshippers during an entire year, and the God of Madness felt it was probably optimistic.
  
  "Is that true?" Ah Athena, always asking the obvious. It was the truth; one had only to observe Zeus' haunted expression to see it.
  
  There were clearly things that went too far, even if you were a God. It seemed Titan's Games were exactly that. Bacchus or Dionysus, he didn't remember his genitor showing melancholia to this degree.
  
  "Yes. Yes, I did it."
  
  Every syllabus betrayed an immortal's weight of regret.
  
  "I didn't have a choice if I wanted to free my siblings from the Crooked One's belly. Therefore I disguised myself and went on to participate in a Titan's Game."
  
  "Why?" The God of Strength and Heroes was incredulous, and Dionysus couldn't completely blame him. "If I understand correctly, participating in this butchery is tantamount to temporarily losing your immortality and run the risk of a permanent death. Why run this risk? You can disguise yourself as a Titan, it is common knowledge!"
  
  "I could and still can, yes," the Master of Olympus agreed. "It wasn't enough."
  
  How could it...ah, Dionysus was starting to understand the problem.
  
  "Being able to trick the guards and the basic protections of Othrys into letting you enter the first halls is one thing," the King of the Gods continued. "Being allowed into Othrys' Supreme Ruler's presence is quite another. Some of the Twelve were regular guests of the Crooked One. Plenty of other high-level figures were too. An unknown Titan no one remembered to have ever seen in the last centuries? No. Our genitor had grown increasingly paranoid in the last centuries before our birth. An audience in his presence would have already been a significant exploit. And it wouldn't have done anything useful for my goals. One God, surrounded by close to two or three hundred Titans? Whether I managed to force him to drink a Potion to vomit the contents of his stomach or not was irrelevant. I would have been killed by the guards of Othrys within minutes."
  
  No one among the Gods and Goddesses present voiced anything. The young deities, because they were astonished. The elder ones, for they understood the 'exploit' had led to them escaping the Crooked One's digestive system.
  
  "A Titan whose name no one remembers is unworthy of meeting the King, never mind being invited alone in his presence. But a Demi-Titan who survived and won the Titan's Game organised by Kronos himself? That was one of the few things which catapulted someone from anonymous figure to today's hero. When I presented myself, it had been almost eighty years that the Crooked One had made it a 'tradition' to keep the victor of the Titan's Games by his side until another was called up."
  
  "But there was no guarantee of victory." Athena looked horrified, and for good reason. "Stripped of your immortality and your first divine birthright-"
  
  "He didn't have a lot of advantages over his foes, no." Hades commented darkly, though behind the voice, there was undercurrent of respect.
  
  "Yes." In similar circumstances, Zeus would have gloated. Here he just looked...exhausted and disgusted. "One could say that for the rules of the game, I disguised myself as a Demi-Titan, but the truth is far direr: during it, I was a Demi-Titan in every way which mattered."
  
  Drunk or not, the God of Wine wasn't stupid enough to ask if his genitor remembered. Everything in the King's behaviour screamed that Zeus had never forgotten these days. That, and they'd never heard the first words of this specific legend. The Battles of the Titanomachy? Oh yes, thousands of evenings were spent bragging about one beating or a cunning stratagem leading to an impressive victory.
  
  But the Titan's Game? Dionysus like plenty of the not-so-young generation had never been given that truth.
  
  "You won."
  
  Nike's declaration resulted in Zeus chuckling.
  
  "I survived." The King of the Gods more and more looked like a broken husk of an immortal. "I don't think one can really win the Titan's Games. There are a few survivors who live to tell their tales. There aren't victors."
  
  Dionysus wasn't one of the Gods who loved to give excuses when his genitor screwed up by the numbers.
  
  But here-
  
  Here there was the terrible feeling that one of the key reasons Zeus was such a terrible ruler in the first place had everything to do with the abhorrent trials Kronos had unwillingly sent his youngest son into.
  
  It explained plenty of things...and the holes in the story were big enough to let an elephant get through them.
  
  "All of you have grievances," the Master of Olympus' voice regained some of its strength, though the fragility remained incredibly obvious when you know where to search. "I will not apologise. Nevertheless, listen to my words, Olympians. The Fire Thief wants a return to that era where anything not fully immortal was considered cattle, and where cruelty and reaping souls were the norm. I, on the other hand, the moment took my throne, did my best to make sure this era would never come again. This, I swear on the Styx."
  
  Evidently, it was never going to go unchallenged. The abyss growled, but for once there was no displeasure shown by the Goddess of Hatred.
  
  "'Never come again'? My Lord with all due respect, these efforts seem to be absurdly foolish and rely upon the incompetence of the opposition-"
  
  Athena was forced to interrupt her speech, as ten thousand bolts erupted in a lightning cage over Olympus.
  
  Athena wasn't afraid.
  
  If the lightning bolts had truly wanted to strike at her, the attack would have been hurled in a far different manner, and with the Master Bolt to focus the power of the Sky into something far lethal.
  
  It also made her wonder for the first time if Zeus had truly been supposed to be the most powerful of Kronos' children originally. Yes, being the youngest was not an obstacle when power was the principal subject which worried you.
  
  That it had felt, right as the fury erupted-
  
  Well, Zeus was the only one of the Olympians to have ever participated in a Titan's Game.
  
  She assuredly didn't know how powerful her genitor had been before that. No one did, or if they did have a clue, they weren't speaking.
  
  "Razing the City of the Titan's Games to its foundation and hiding it when it clearly could be rebuilt was the minimum one could expect of Olympus, not the maximum," she continued in her role of Goddess of Wisdom, unimpressed by the tantrum.
  
  "The reconstruction could only begin with four Titans serving as the Four Lords, and all of them were imprisoned or demoted long ago," the King of the Gods retorted, his anger burning the air of the Council Room. "In addition to it, as long as Hera ruled over the Hesperides, her power would have been able to nullify any reconstruction attempt, while killing any Demigod attempting to make a shortcut."
  
  If anything, it made everything worse. Punishing Hera, no matter how much she deserved it, had given Python and Prometheus the opportunity they'd been waiting for millennia. The Goddess of Marriage had protected far more than the Tree of the Golden Apples, and her downfall had just ensured calamity came from a new direction.
  
  Athena didn't say it out loud, though. She wasn't a glutton for punishment.
  
  "I intended to negotiate with Hera, so she did relinquish her claim to Nike before the next Winter Solstice. The Coalition clearly became aware of this, and chose to strike preemptively."
  
  There was a saying about cows and open barns which definitely applied there. Just saying.
  
  The Lightning Thief affair had cost Olympus far more than the very expensive price that had been apparent in the last months.
  
  "Yet here we are."
  
  Zeus scowled.
  
  "The Coalition has decided to call up a Titan's Game, but that does not mean they will be able to accomplish their purpose here. They have accomplished a critical step which I would have preferred them to fail utterly. It is still the first step of many."
  
  "How so?" Dionysus asked, visibly interested by the subject.
  
  "Before razing the City, I removed the key ritual site of the City of the Titan's Games and hid it elsewhere," the Master of Olympus admitted shamelessly. "The Titans called this piece the Nexus Theatre. It was where the participants, be they Demi-Titans or something else, were to be branded and bound. For immortals punished or voluntarily joining the Games, it was within these boundaries of stone they lost immortality and eternal youth."
  
  Lightning danced in the palm of Zeus' hands.
  
  "As long as the Nexus Theatre has not merged back with it, the City is effectively useless for the Coalition's purposes. At best, it is only a splendid gathering of old stones from which you can activate the power of Time twice."
  
  "Those are in addition to the Seals we placed." Hades spoke.
  
  "Seals?" Hermes echoed.
  
  The Lord of the Underworld's smile was incredibly cold. Hell must be freezing as they spoke.
  
  "Our genitor is not the only one who was accused of paranoia, nephew. When we destroyed Othrys and the last armies of the Crooked One were scattered or obliterated, we knew there were plenty of things that were not broken forever. The City of the Titan's Games was one of them, and it had been so saturated with negative energies no alternative purpose could be found for it. The mortal species which had been ruled by the Titans were either terrified or supportive of the regular slaughters. Of course, the Nexus Theatre released an unacceptable level of energy every four years. It was better to not take any risks. In common agreement, we three bled over the old stones and forged one of the most powerful Seals we could, tying it to our inner power and our rising Thrones. The Nexus Theatre became as dead as most of the old ruins the tourists visit every day in Greece these days."
  
  This seemed...far better than what she had imagined. Maybe she had been a bit too hasty in accusing him of incompetence.
  
  "Yet," Hestia said from where she tended the Hearth of the Council Room, "the Coalition knows many things they shouldn't, and the Titan of Crafty Counsel was alive when the Titanomachy ended. He also was present when the Games took place."
  
  The Seals seemed to be a brilliant idea. This didn't reassure Dionysus.
  
  There had been so many screw ups these last months that the God of Wine was not sure he believed in a flawless plan, and that had been before the Suicide Squad and the Cult of Arachne battled in the streets of New York.
  
  "How certain are we that the Seals will hold?"
  
  "Prometheus tried and failed to break them two millennia ago at Pompei and Herculaneum."
  
  "The Fire Thief was the reason why my city went insane for no reason at all and Hephaestus had to detonate the Vesuvius?"
  
  "Yes," the King of the Gods admitted imperiously. "What I hadn't told you until today what was this madness was only collateral damage as far as our enemy was concerned. The Nexus Theatre was hidden under the mortal theatres of Pompei, and the Titan went all out, capturing several children of ours, before bleeding them on the altars while several children of his cast forbidden rituals."
  
  "I almost caught him that day," Poseidon was playing with his Trident, which was not a good sign. "His accomplices all paid the price their crimes deserved, however."
  
  "For all the good it did," Demeter was very, very unhappy. "All the cities and the fine fields of Southern Italy were devastated-"
  
  "Death was a mercy at this point, and you know it," the King of the Seas interrupted her before the Goddess of Agriculture's rant had the time to gain strength. "The Archaeologists of the modern era think that there aren't so many bodies because a lot of the civilians had the time to escape. The real reason is far more horrible. The energies of the failed attempt to break the Seal lead to over half of the population instantly transforming themselves into monsters."
  
  No wonder that at the time, the entire incident had been covered up. His Bacchus avatars had been in the East when the disaster occurred, and he hadn't been able to investigate...in hindsight, he really, really should have.
  
  "His twisted mind is entirely focused on the Titan's Game," Athena's face could have been carved into marble, but her voice clearly hinted Prometheus was a dead Titan the moment they would face each other on the battlefield again. "What is his goal?"
  
  Hades was the one to answer.
  
  "In the short-term, the goal is clearly to throw Apollo and Artemis into a Titan's Game against the Lord of Light and the Lady of Splendour. A game, I will add, the Twins of Leto are completely unprepared for."
  
  "The two Titans have been imprisoned for a long time," Aphrodite commented neutrally.
  
  "And if it was a double fight under fair and honourable conditions," Zeus growled, "I would expect my children to triumph one hundred times out of one hundred. Unfortunately, Titan's Games are the definition of unfairness and dishonourable. Trapped into mortal bodies, every participant is trapped into an unfamiliar shell and forced to claw back its way to godhood by swallowing scrap after scrap of divine power."
  
  "That would at least explain why the Great Serpent is helping the Titans, at least," Hermes whistled. "The God-Beast hates Apollo's guts; watching him getting humiliated over and over in a slaughterhouse where he has every chance to die permanently is very much something to enjoy, no matter how many millennia have passed since his latest defeat."
  
  That didn't exactly explain what Prometheus was up to. In fact, Dionysus was not convinced either by the one offered for Python's. If it was revenge the child of Gaea was after, there were far simpler ways to achieve it.
  
  "Athena." The Master of Olympus had visibly decided the time for debate had lasted long enough. "Your assessment of the strategic situation, please."
  
  The grey eyes were still filled with fury, but in mere seconds, they became far more calculating than they had been during half of the Council session.
  
  "The Coalition has trapped Apollo and Artemis, began to rebuild the City of the Titan's Games, and one must assume they have prepared a lot of candidates and cannon-fodder to play a part in the slaughter to come. They also have the Titans they want by their side. They must have done their homework as to which claimants for the Sun and the Moon are alive to support their awful ambitions. There's not much we can do about that. Therefore, in my educated opinion, barring any loophole I don't know about, the best option is to deny them the Nexus Theatre. If it's truly an irreplaceable piece of the City and the cornerstone of the rituals, we must keep it out of the claws of the Coalition at all costs until the Winter Solstice."
  
  "I agree," Poseidon agreeing with the Protector of Athens? There was really something bad on the horizon; of that there was little doubt anymore.
  
  Dionysus conjured a barrel. His throat was dry, and after all these revelations, no one sane would deny it was time to drink.
  
  To say the truth, the God of Madness felt really vindicated about Prometheus. He had never liked the bastard. This was the Titan of Crafty Counsel...who should have been renamed the Titan of Nefarious Counsel, or something close.
  
  "The Seals won't really matter if the Coalition doesn't even have the opportunity to access the Nexus Theatre." He said while raising his cup to his lips and swallowing the delicious nectar. "Of course, since they have an Oracle on their side, our enemies in all likelihood are aware of where it is."
  
  The expression of the Lord of Lightning and Thunder was not exactly the one which was preceding the deliveries of rewards and compliments.
  
  Dionysus felt a very unpleasant emotion crawl in his stomach.
  
  "You hid out of view somewhere within the boundaries of New Byzantium."
  
  26 June 2007, deep inside 'Nexus Hill', New Byzantium (de jure)
  
  It might surprise some of his most loyal minions, but Perseus didn't like being dragged out of bed at an undue hour.
  
  Seriously, he was the Tyrant.
  
  If there was anyone who was going to be dragged out of his or her bed, sound logic dictated that it was Perseus who was going to give the order, and his treacherous lieutenants doing the enforcement part while he watched and gloated.
  
  Alas, when an Olympian Goddess used her spear to make every ward of the Atlantean Palace shriek at five o'clock in the morning, self-preservation instincts suggested it was wiser to dress up and follow her.
  
  No matter how much you were unhappy.
  
  No matter if you didn't have enjoyed enough sleep last night.
  
  No matter how much he deserved rest, after the mayhem of the last days.
  
  And had Perseus mentioned he didn't enjoy being woken up before dawn? At this rate, he was going to get white hair before he celebrated his twentieth birthday...
  
  One more step, and his murderous thoughts would-
  
  The entrance inside the large secret temple which had been hidden west of New Byzantium cut off his tyrannical thoughts in a single second.
  
  That wasn't the only thing it did, of course.
  
  The aura of Fear, Terror, and Despair all smashed against his skin at once.
  
  For once, the lack of a good breakfast seemed to have oddly prescient; the son of Poseidon would assuredly have emptied his stomach if he had eaten something before rushing here.
  
  "What...what in the name of the Pit and the Hell Sea is that?"
  
  It looked like a theatre like they were in the old times, though it had to be a mistake.
  
  No site of entertainment could ever feel so evil. Even the Arena of Commodus had not reeked with that much malice. With every breath Perseus took, he could almost taste the blood which had been shed here.
  
  Suddenly, the use of black marble appeared incredibly sinister. If it had been originally white stones, those would have been painted red, he was sure of this.
  
  It was awful. And yes, it was the Tyrant speaking.
  
  No matter how long ago it had been, this theatre had been used for incredibly evil stuff.
  
  You could almost hear the agony screams of the victim.
  
  His professionalism didn't let him use the word 'evil' in a cheap fashion, but here...yeah, this place was Evil, capital 'E'.
  
  Just saying here felt uncomfortable in the extreme.
  
  "This," Athena was clad for war and looked at him like a hawk looked like a mice, "is the Nexus Theatre."
  
  Perseus gave her a glance of disbelief. Yes, a name was fine and everything. It also explained nothing.
  
  "Fantastic. Really." A bit more sarcasm, and he would melt a large part of the Antarctica snow reserves. "If you allow me, I am going to retire. I want to stay the hell away from this cursed thing."
  
  He hadn't the time to take two steps before Athena's voice rang out.
  
  "Hear the Master of Olympus' will, Perseus Jackson. You are given command of this strategic location. You will defend it against all enemies of the Olympians, foremost of all the mortal hordes of the Coalition. You will not falter. You are to deny the use of the Nexus Theatre to anyone until the Winter Solstice."
  
  What?
  
  "If it is a joke, I don't find it funny at all."
  
  "And what pray tell suggests that I am joking, Perseus Jackson?" The power of the Goddess of War and Wisdom struck hard, and if he hadn't been a very powerful Demigod, it would have sent him on his knees.
  
  "Because we're just about four hundred metres west of the outer wall's most extended defences." The Lord of the Suicide Squad said bluntly without hesitation. "This entire part was left entirely undefended per the orders of Olympus, under the excuse there was a nearby cove sacred for the Satyrs and Nature worshippers in general. At the moment we're speaking, the entire area is essentially defended by three rabbits and five squirrels."
  
  "All of it can be remedied to. Hephaestus has agreed to loan you hundreds of construction automatons."
  
  The air shivered. Something frightening tried rising the levels of Despair to a new level. And where the actors of a theatre should play, Perseus was almost certain he saw seats of black marble flickering in and out of existence.
  
  No, not seats.
  
  Thrones.
  
  "It will take months to make this position somewhat defensible." Yes, this was him speaking to Annabeth's mother. "We will be over-exposed, and to present a credible defence, we will essentially have to position a Legion in a location where it will be easy to flank it and cut all the avenues of retreats, to say nothing of Questers' groups."
  
  "You underestimate the speed the Lord of Forge's metallic servants can build a citadel."
  
  "Perhaps," the son of Poseidon conceded, letting the glare of his red iris showing all his displeasure, "what I am certain however is that the Coalition's spies are not going to miss the engineering effort."
  
  That was why Prometheus, Python, and all their accomplices had been so interested in New Byzantium in the first place.
  
  Perseus had thought their priorities had demanded the neutralisation or the elimination of the Legions and the Questers.
  
  He had been wrong. They were going to come for this 'Nexus Theatre'.
  
  The presence of Demigods nearby was the complication-annoyance, not the mission's key objective.
  
  "Your orders stand."
  
  "We are going to be on the receiving end of an overwhelming assault within a week." It was another reason why the Sire of the Drakons had not been exactly sorry to bait them into launching a battle in the streets of Manhattan. If Python thought he could injure or exhaust a few of them before a critical battle, why not seize the chance? "Will I receive divine assistance, at least?"
  
  This was the big problem, in his mind. The Nexus Theatre and the hill it had been buried under were out of the City's boundaries, and changing that would not be done with a click of fingers. New Byzantium had gained size very recently, but most of the modifications to move further away the landmarks had taken weeks.
  
  "If the Lords of the Coalition intervene, or if they have Gods playing mercenaries on their side, Olympus will intervene, per the Ancient Laws."
  
  In other words, if the Coalition leadership wasn't stupid, the attack would consist exclusively of monsters and mortal troops which couldn't be placed into the category 'immortals'.
  
  They were so screwed.
  
  "Last question," Perseus didn't bother giving any respect anymore. More and more, he was having doubts he had taken the correct approach returning to New Byzantium. The 'staying in the Sea of Monsters and drinking liquor on a sunny beach' was getting better and better with every second. "Who built these tunnels, and is there any way for me to contact them?"
  
  "A Myrmekes colony did," oh great, in doubt, it was always the giant ants, wasn't it? "And no, you can't. They were silenced ages ago to prevent the location from falling into enemy's hands."
  
  The stupidity was off the charts.
  
  The Coalition was coming, and it would take a single Myrmekes having escaped the purges for Prometheus to have a detailed plan of how to reach the Nexus Theatre.
  
  No, he wasn't going to smash his head against the walls.
  
  It wasn't by lack of envy, though.
  
  In fact, the only source of consternation was why the Coalition hadn't attacked them during the Battle of New York against Nocturna and the Cult of Arachne.
  
  They would have caught this hill utterly undefended, and outnumbered Legionnaires weren't bloody likely to sally out of the walls for something they had no idea it existed in the first place.
  
  A real difficulty to coordinate both forces together, perhaps? The Cult of Arachne was a bunch of socialite women sneaked from Las Vegas with expensive sport cars. The force prepared to take the Nexus Theatre was in all likelihood far, far bigger.
  
  It had to be. It had to be able to engage thousands of Demigods and Legacies in a decisive manner, while they were able to move this abomination of a theatre where they wanted it to be.
  
  "I see. Then you can give the message to the King. It doesn't matter how much of his precious orders he's willing to shout in my direction, the task is impossible. We are against an enemy which is incredibly prepared, and can see each and every move we are making. Within a week, we're going to lose this hill and the Nexus Theatre under it. And I will warn you, if it's a choice between saving the armed forces of New Byzantium and mounting a glorious stand which leads to the deaths of thousands, I know which choice I will make."
  
  It was a very, very good thing diplomatic immunity was active.
  
  And no, by the way Athena glared at him, his defiance was not appreciated.
  
  Pity, that. She should really have let him sleep up to a decent hour.
  
  "The Coalition will win a terrible victory if you do not stop them here."
  
  "Then perhaps you should have begun fortifying this hill a year ago, instead of relying on everyone staying ignorant of the precise coordinates."
  
  26 June 2007, the future Aeternum Gate, New Byzantium
  
  Medusa was a bit jealous. The sight of over four thousand automatons digging and building everywhere her eyes went was most certainly impressive. It also reminded her that none of her architectural projects had warranted such help in the past.
  
  Sure, thousands of years ago, the engineering capabilities of those automatons had been more limited, but still...
  
  The sound of metal and tools clashing in the distance was there to bring her back to reality. And it was a crude and unpleasant one: war had taken priority over everything.
  
  "Per your instructions, there will be a large moat to complicate the efforts of the enemy if they want to bring rams and ladders close to the walls. The bunkers and automated machine guns filling the killing zones will be installed tomorrow. If there is time, we will be able to multiply them-"
  
  "There won't be," Perseus Jackson said sombrely. "But I appreciate the optimism."
  
  Medusa grimaced. The son of Poseidon had been in a bad mood for most of the morning, ironically showing he could very much behave like his sire when diverse events angered him.
  
  "It is always possible the Coalition made a mistake. I'm not saying it is likely, but they are not infallible."
  
  "They're not," the Drakon-Slayer agreed. "However, you and I know this is definitely their grand plan."
  
  "Damn the Oracle powers of the Sire of the Drakons."
  
  The young Demigod made a scornful expression. The only good news was that it was not really directed at her.
  
  "Now that the time of surprises has passed, I'm less and less convinced the Coalition really needed an Oracle for the job. Nexus Hill was more or less unguarded for the last decade. A few Myrmekes to dig a discreet tunnel and some Demigod spies were all it took to verify that the 'Nexus Theatre' was indeed hidden underneath this hill. Having a vague guess of where it was fell to the Oracle, I suppose, but everything after did not."
  
  This was absolutely not a pleasant piece of information to listen to. Medusa was on top of the very earth that may have been dug by the Myrmekes, and she suddenly felt very aware of her new mortality.
  
  "You feel certain they are spies everywhere."
  
  "Because they are?" the shadow of a smile made its come-back upon his face. "The Battle of Manhattan alone confirmed it. The Cult of Arachne was way too prepared to intercept us on the most direct road between New Byzantium and New York. Yet when I changed my mind, they were singularly surprised and unable to change their defensive plans quickly."
  
  That...that made sense, damn it.
  
  "I would have preferred the entire thing to be the fault of an Oracle."
  
  "Me too," the Lord of the Suicide Squad crossed his arms. "Unfortunately, the Coalition is wiser than that. As powerful as an Oracle is, if you rely upon him, her or it on everything, it is a guarantee that things will fall apart when the Oracle is no more. In addition to this, one mustn't forget that plenty of the Coalition members may trust the Sire of the Drakons as far as they can throw the scaly body, which isn't a lot."
  
  Right. In this litany of bad news, Medusa had almost forgotten they were speaking of a coalition.
  
  Prometheus and his conspirators may use a few capital letters, but their entire group was and remained to this day a coalition. They were a loose group of interests vying for supreme power, and when things had gone wrong for one of their subordinates, Commodus had been abandoned faster than you could say 'Neo Hercules'.
  
  Being a Coalition, though, this defeat did not appear to have slowed down their goals in a noticeable manner.
  
  "The defences will be impressive when they're finished, though. We will have the two-hundred metres-tall wall to guard the entire perimeter. The Smith God has agreed to release some two hundred turrets which were once modernised for Dreadnought warships."
  
  "Tell me of the Aeternum Gate."
  
  Medusa breathed out. The son of Poseidon had really a gift to point out the problems.
  
  "The Gate is needed to shore up the walls and all the other defences. We need something to capture the enchantments which your assistants are going to carve upon the metal. When it will be done, this Gate will be able to endure the blows of minor immortals and massive magical bombardments."
  
  "And when will it be 'done'?"
  
  "Per the schedule I have been allowed to peruse...about two weeks?"
  
  "That's too long. We will be attacked long before that."
  
  The worst part was that the monster-returned-Demigoddess was more and more convinced this was the ugly truth.
  
  "I know it is, but without a God working in our stead," something which would allow the enemy to bring all the divine firepower at their disposal, "it is the best we can do. There is a limit to how fast one can build a fortified position when nothing of the sort existed here..."
  
  "Finish your sentence."
  
  Medusa sighed.
  
  "Fine. I can't believe I'm saying this, but it would have been better if you didn't try to anger my mother."
  
  "Why? The one who sent her thought that just because we are mortals and they're not, it is easy to whistle, resulting in us rushing to prostrate ourselves and kneeling obediently from dawn to dusk."
  
  The Demigod looked upwards, towards the Sun. Whatever phenomenon had happened recently, the celestial source of light and warmth seemed extremely normal right now, and so did the Moon.
  
  "During the last Great Quest, I taught Love that actions indeed have consequences you can't run away from. Today has just shown that the rest of the Olympian Council, at the very least, is going to have to learn it sooner or later too."
  
  26 June 2007, somewhere under the earth, uncharted tunnels, New York (de jure)
  
  The smell in these tunnels was abominable.
  
  It said something that neither his father nor Prometheus paid any attention to it.
  
  Their entire focus had been on the screens relaying the videos taken by reconnaissance aircraft passing high above the future battlefield hours ago.
  
  It was not something Lityerses had enjoyed watching, and he wasn't the one who would have to fight. No matter how bloodthirsty you were, the sight of thousands of automatons, columns of guns, stockpiles of ammunition, trucks filled with landmines, and a giant wall rising impossibly fast were not exactly things who prompted you to laugh.
  
  "They're reacting like the wounded beasts they are," the Titan of Crafty Counsel commented drily. "If they had had begun one year ago to fortify this hill, taking it would be ridiculously difficult, and costly in the extreme."
  
  The Titan had no reason to lie here, so it might very well be the truth. Prometheus or one of the other Lords of the Coalition may intervene, of course, but this would allow in turn one of the Olympians to do the same. Possibly several Olympians. Certainly Zeus himself.
  
  It wouldn't be a battle, if it was the case. It would be a one-sided beating.
  
  "Wounded beasts they may be," Midas said as they left the command post and descended deeper into the tunnels, "but this time the surprise is gone, at least on that specific front. The elder Olympians know what our plan is trying to accomplish, and one must assume they have told enough to their divine children in order to launch decisive counterattacks."
  
  "That much is true," Prometheus conceded. "Unfortunately for them and fortunately for us, they're still searching in the wrong places, fighting the wrong battles. The only real place they've really a chance to stop us is New Byzantium, and they're not summoning enough assets for the defence of the Nexus Theatre."
  
  Lityerses couldn't help but make a noise of disbelief.
  
  Which naturally the Lords of the Coalition heard. Curse it.
  
  "Not summoning enough assets? In mere hours, they sent over five thousand automatons, several engineering battalions, and enough ammunition to kill all the rabbits of the United States twice over!"
  
  "They didn't commit any Cyclops of the first-rate Forges, several old relics hidden since the Second World War, or tried to give amnesties to several mercenaries and monsters of note." The Titan of Crafty Counsel seemed to be very amused by his words. "The fortifying process is incomplete, untested, and the Demigods don't have enough reserves, even with the reinforcements they have coming."
  
  Said like that, it sounded really, really easy.
  
  The son of Demeter wasn't that convinced.
  
  "If we make a breach in the Aeternum Gate, the entire area surrounding the hill and the Nexus Theatre will fall."
  
  "Even if we make a breach," Lityerses insisted, "you're going to need an army of easily one hundred thousand monsters to go against Perseus Jackson. As proved with the Battle of Manhattan, the delay between operations has given him the time to replenish his stocks of vicious surprises."
  
  "Five hundred thousand monsters," Prometheus spoke.
  
  "What?"
  
  "It has been calculated that five hundred thousand monsters, with adequate support, will be able to pulverise the Aeternum Gate and all its defences."
  
  "But...but my Lord, such an army doesn't exist."
  
  The tunnel ended, and the smell became more and more awful, if it was even possible.
  
  There was light, and there was more noise.
  
  There were-
  
  They arrived on a balcony, and a gigantic cavern offered itself to his eyes.
  
  Lityerses saw.
  
  He saw the Emus.
  
  Those were the Stymphalian-crossbred monsters which had fought during the First Labour of Commodus' epic failure.
  
  Except, you know, there had been hundreds there.
  
  This time?
  
  This time there were so many of them you couldn't properly count them.
  
  Ranks after ranks, columns after columns, the monsters waited, generating an infernal ruckus...and they stopped when the Titan raised his hand.
  
  "A new power is rising, on the eve of the First Titan's Game seen in generations," the Lord of Crafty Counsel announced. "Victory is imminent."
  
  The Emus welcomed that with bird cries and monstrous imprecations Lityerses would not repeat anywhere.
  
  Trying to focus on anything but the implacable beaks, feathers, and claws, the Demigod could see the monsters were accompanied by automatons, who unlike Hephaestus' creations, seemed to be made of clay and armed with crude weapons. The work of Epimetheus, Prometheus' brother?
  
  "The Sun and the Moon can't help the Demigods anymore. Take the Nexus Theatre, and the Coalition will give you everything you may ever have wanted in your wildest dreams! This is your Utopia! This is your War!"
  
  The thunder of the metallic-covered beasts swallowed them, but not enough to drown the roars of other beasts in the distance...and those weren't Emus, Lityerses was sure of it.
  
  26 June 2007, the new Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave
  
  There was a great amount of irony in Medusa declaring the Coalition was not infallible, and this affair almost dropping on his lap without him having done the slightest thing to encourage it.
  
  Python was unable to communicate with his agents for the short-term, if the rumours were true. And Prometheus...Prometheus was overworked, trying to play every side in every direction.
  
  The war strategists of old had been right. It wasn't the side who committed no mistake which won the war, it was the force which committed the fewest of them during the entire campaign.
  
  In this instance, the mistake was incredibly big.
  
  "You have my sympathy." Note the absence of bad puns, the lack of amusing jokes, and other things. His interlocutor half a world away wouldn't like it at all.
  
  "The Coalition is ruled by a bunch of mud worms!" No, he wasn't going to repeat the insults which flowed like a river after that. "We had a contract! A contract! And you know what those fiends had to say? They said I was an ancient species genetically recreated by their will! They said I had no rights!"
  
  This was, assuredly, not nice at all. While Prometheus would have no hesitation screwing someone like that, this didn't feel like his style. Midas? The infamous donkey-eared King had been known for some eccentric stupidities in his time. It could be him. Or it could be another Lord of the Coalition-
  
  "Surely there must have been some penalties included in this contract."
  
  "There were. But there were penalties for Commodus, and for him alone. How could I know I had to ask for a Styx Oath of the entire Coalition?"
  
  Yes, that was...a nasty problem. Commodus, obviously, had far more urgent priorities than dealing with past contracts in the world of the living. And as for Styx Oaths...Perseus was sure the Coalition would never have sworn them.
  
  Their 'tools' were supposed to be expendable, after all.
  
  "They can say that I am guilty of being an illegal immigrant worker all they want, I do not feel any obligation to them anymore! I am proud and slavery, last I checked, was abolished!"
  
  "The Coalition has indeed no class at all," it was a bit of lie, that. Commodus has had no class and his narcissistic personality had been combined with an appalling lack of artistic taste.
  
  "That's very kind of you...and I apologise, I have yet to thank for you for the snack!"
  
  "Think nothing of it," Kymopoleia had been so satisfied by the celerity he had built her temple that she had accepted to throw a few Drachmas for the 'snack'.
  
  "You are so generous, Lord Jackson! I am at your entire disposal!"
  
  Ah, the praises. His only real weakness.
  
  "Now that you mention it, I have a somewhat urgent commitment to find real firepower. Funny coincidence, it is against the forces of the Coalition."
  
  "Oh?"
  
  "It is rather a short-term employ, I am not going to lie." Perseus grinned, knowing his interlocutor couldn't see him. "The work can't be guaranteed past the Winter Solstice. I am however ready to pay the costs of transport and food on my purse. Oh, and the usual bribes if you have to escape from the Underworld in case you are killed in action."
  
  "When you say food...hmm..." there had been way harder negotiations, both in Calernia and this world. Asterius' friendship had taken years to reach the level of trust shown in this conversation.
  
  "I do not intend to starve you like these evil fiends of the Coalition did, I swear. Obviously, I can't promise a banquet every day, I am not the God of Parties, but I can promise three meals a day, with fresh sea food coming directly from Atlantis."
  
  It was hardly a sacrifice; half of what was presented at his table in the Sea Palace wasn't eaten, with the result most of it was distributed to other parties. At least this way, the Nymphs cooking would have someone complimenting them for their culinary performance.
  
  "You will swear?"
  
  Ah yes. Here they came upon the issue of trust and everything else.
  
  "I will swear." This massive reinforcement was worth some sacrifices, in the end. "I expect you tonight, my half-brother will welcome you at the entrance of the Secret Docks. Err...I haven't asked if you have a name to make recognition protocols easier..."
  
  "I have decided upon the beautiful name of Queen Zenobia the Second. Thank you, Lord Jackson!"
  
  The conversation ended, and the phone was placed back in the secret alcove.
  
  The former Tyrant of Helike sighed in relief.
  
  Well, that was one asset the Suicide Squad would not complain too much about when they saw how useful it was.
  
  The problem was that it may not be enough. The Coalition did make mistakes, but so far, they had left them to choose between bad choices and worst-case scenarios.
  
  Perseus pressed the red button closest to him.
  
  "Penguin Infantry Squad! Report immediately to my office, there are enemies to torment!"
  
  26 June 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  The majority of the Council had left, leaving only his brothers, Hestia, and himself in the room.
  
  To be honest, Poseidon had thought Demeter would stay too. She was one of the elder Olympians.
  
  The Goddess of Agriculture didn't.
  
  Some parts of him were resentful.
  
  Plenty of the security measures which had disastrously failed guarding the Titan's prisons had been his sister's idea in the first place. Many aggressive plants and flowers had been cultivated on her initiative.
  
  Yes, it had been a failure of Olympus as a whole, but Demeter could not exactly wash her hands of all responsibilities.
  
  Unfortunately, 'could not' was very different from 'will not try'.
  
  And now there were here, four of them, when there should have been six.
  
  They were four, and Zeus looked like he was trying to forget everything by drinking himself into stupor.
  
  The King of the Seas could say very honestly he didn't like the expression on his face.
  
  This was the haunted face of someone whose nightmares had become all too real.
  
  "Drinking is not going to stop the problem," Hades said when it became obvious Zeus wasn't going to stop the flow of Nectar if they continued to stay idle.
  
  "The problem," their younger brother grunted, his voice unaffected by all the liquor he had swallowed in the last hour, "is that nothing is going to stop it if the Coalition is stupid enough to truly begin a Titan's Game! Damn ugly bastard! This age of slaughter was gone! Why is the Fire Thief trying to resurrect it?"
  
  Poseidon had no answer to that. Nor had he any real idea how bad the Titan's Games had been in the first place. Unlike Zeus, he had never participated in one, being prisoner in the belly of Kronos. The closest he had come from one had been in the last year of the Titanomachy, when the King of Titans had at last acknowledged that with his armies decimated, it was time to replenish the numbers of the lesser Titans.
  
  Of course, in a formidable battle, they had descended upon the land which was now called Libya, and inflicted severe devastation to the Titan's host gathering Demi-Titans and mortals for the butchery to come. The ones willing to challenge Kronos' rule, they had saved and taken with them. The ones who were betting on a Titan's victory...Poseidon and his siblings had ensured this was the last poor gamble they would ever make.
  
  "I can't speak of the Fire Thief's motivations," Hades remained impressively calm, "but he is going to find it more difficult to find funds and resources. You will be pleased to know that I have arrested Marcus Licinius Crassus, better known in certain circles as the Landowner. The fugitive was using plenty of Romans, some he outright called them the 'Lesser Triumvirate', to conduct activities which varied from army-building to robberies, and from embezzlement to money laundering. Crassus and all his accomplices have been arrested, and are now waiting for their trials. In a few weeks, I expect them all to toil in the Fields of Punishment for a few millennia."
  
  "Good. I suppose that's one fewer Lord of the Coalition which will cause problem down the line."
  
  Hades didn't look pleased.
  
  "I am unsure if Crassus is a Lord of the Coalition, brother."
  
  "Oh, please, you urged caution when I said the Arachnid was part of their club!"
  
  "That Arachne is allied with the Coalition, I have little doubt about that." Hades continued, a twinge of annoyance filtering into his tone. "We don't have the proof she is part of their upper leadership. Commodus didn't see her upon a throne; the Demigods of the Suicide Squad didn't see her at all. I will not sell the bear's skin until I have real evidence. So far, only three 'Lords of the Coalition' are known for certain."
  
  "The Titan who stole Fire from us, the donkey-eared King who loved gold too much, and the Sire of the Drakons," Poseidon said for formality's sake.
  
  "Precisely," Hestia confirmed.
  
  "Do you think there's a chance?" Zeus asked, and it was a hesitant question, far from the heights of his legendary arrogance. "For my children to emerge victorious and emerge untainted and unaffected by this sordid trap, I mean."
  
  Hestia did stop tending the fire for some brief seconds.
  
  "If the Game is aborted before it can properly begin, I believe so. You will have to rein in your daughter immediately after; she is getting increasingly out of control. You may also have to marry off Apollo. It would be great time for him to stop protecting his twin from the consequences of her own actions, and to stop his perpetual quest to find a new Daphne."
  
  The firebrand in Hestia's hands became a sword.
  
  "If this murderous party the Crooked One dared to call a 'Game' takes place...I'm afraid only you, brother, can truly answer this question. While you revealed many things to us when we reunited, you alone participated in this bloody spectacle and survived."
  
  "Yes," the word was morose and as far away from triumphant as it was possible to be. "Yes, I suppose..."
  
  Poseidon exchanged a worried glance with Hades. That was not promising.
  
  "Is there a way to exchange the participants in extremis?" there was much he ignored about the fine print of the 'rules' enforced once upon a time by Kronos. "I don't want to sacrifice everyone, but for a series of trials of a near-impossible nature, Hercules and Dionysus are far more suitable."
  
  To begin with, they were born Demigods. Having their essence contained in a single mortal body would not be the traumatising experience it would be for others.
  
  "That's a nice idea, but it isn't going to work." Zeus snorted. "The Great Serpent will have no doubt prepared brands imbued with the Sun and the Moon. Unless one of my other children was suddenly finding himself or herself with a claim to the Sun and the Moon...it would do nothing at all. Apollo is the God of the Sun. Artemis is the Goddess of the Moon. This is a trap which can work on them, and only them."
  
  The ruler of Atlantis did not think he had seen the blue eyes of the Sky be so troubled. Not even the battle against Typhon had brought his brother to such lows.
  
  "What is the correct course of action, then?" This was no rhetorical question. "Everyone can see pretty clearly the coming attack to steal the Nexus Theatre will be won or lost against monsters and mortal auxiliaries, leaving us no possibility to intervene."
  
  "There might be...a solution." Zeus said slowly, shattering a cup in a moment of inattention. "I am not sure. I will have to read the ancient Tablets we didn't break after storming Othrys. If they don't have the information I seek, I may have to speak with Mother."
  
  Everyone, even Hestia, winced at that. Under less desperate times, they would have protested. Here, it still felt reckless.
  
  "I won't be gone for long." There was a blast of lightning, and the King of the Gods disappeared, leaving only ruined bottles and cups behind him.
  
  "Ganymede, I fear, is going to complain again his duties are supposed to be those of a cup-bearer, not a cleaning man..."
  
  "You think?" Hades drawled. "Send me an Iris-message when he does. I have to continue my investigations."
  
  "Trouble?"
  
  "I can't help but think that the fugitives escaped the Underworld far too easily. Yes, my daughter was inexperienced and distracted, but there shouldn't have been so many break outs. And Crassus is competent in certain domains, but most of my lieutenants can't be bribed by gold and silver..."
  
  27 June 2007, the Pegasi Stables, New Byzantium
  
  Rachel hadn't known what to really expect when given a tour guide for a city of Demigods.
  
  The answer, as it happened, was a mix of Greek villas combined with training facilities which made it seem one was preparing a long series of TV prime events about Ultimate Survivor, the latest TV show where competitors battled each other for one million dollars.
  
  Except you know, no TV show really lit fires under the climbing wall, distributed thousands of real weapons in the morning, or saw archery performances which would have thrown plenty of Olympic athletes into tears.
  
  Rachel had been told there were flying chariot races in the past too, but they were temporarily on hiatus, courtesy of the last one exploding the record of accidents.
  
  Obviously, flying chariots meant flying horses...that was why her 'guide tour' ended up in front of the stables where dozens of Pegasi stared at her.
  
  "Will I have the opportunity to fly upon the back of one?" she asked, hiding her excitation as best as she could.
  
  Her parents had always refused her the pony she wanted; it was time to correct that 'mistake'.
  
  "No." Perseus Jackson answered in an absent tone, much like this entire tour had been.
  
  "You're killing all the fun." She crossed her arms in defiance.
  
  "If you try to ride one as you are and you fall off from the Pegasus, someone important is guaranteed to be killed. The Gods asked me to keep you alive, and the Golden Fleece is only of use if you're not killed on the spot."
  
  Oracle or not, no respectable girl enjoyed being on the receiving end of those logical words.
  
  "I thought the children of Poseidon had fantastic powers, like taming horses. Pegasi like those should be obeying your every whim, right?"
  
  Immediately, there was plenty of whinnying coming from the stables. A black Pegasus, in particular, neighed like she had said something extremely funny.
  
  "Oh great, now they're going to repeat it every time I'm near them," Perseus Jackson rolled his eyes, which thanks to the different colours of irises, felt really comical. "For your personal knowledge, Ms. Dare, yes, some children of Poseidon receive at birth the ability to tame all breed of horses, be they land-galloping stallions and mares, sea-based Hippocampi, or sky-racing Pegasi. Alas, I am not one of them."
  
  "Ah."
  
  "Yes, ah." The black-haired boy shrugged. "I have the gift which allows me to understand all horses, of course, but then the majority of my lineage has it, and plenty of Legacies can boast the same. That gives me a small advantage, which is fading fast compared to other Demigods, because I am not that good of a rider."
  
  "Surely there must be lessons offered, no?"
  
  "Oh yes, but before getting to a level of experience where you and your equine partner can play polo as a true couple, you may need years of training. And once again, at the risk of repeating myself, you're not a Demigoddess, and risking your life in dangerous hobbies is something that would certainly cost me my head."
  
  "Perseus Jackson, you're a kill-joy."
  
  "I live to please, your Oracular Majesty," the sarcasm was burning fiercely enough to burn Central Park a second time. "Ethan! Today, I have decreed a new tyrannical order! All my lieutenants must only give me the good news."
  
  If the dark-haired boy had added spikes, a black collar, and changed his hairstyle a bit, Rachel would have had no problem to believe he was goth. As it was, the 'all-black' clothes certainly gave him a grim appearance.
  
  He must not completely lack humour, though, for now he stayed completely silent in front of his 'Boss'.
  
  "Fine," Perseus Jackson admitted defeat after roughly thirty seconds. "Give me the very bad news, Ethan."
  
  "The Huntresses have arrived."
  
  Rachel didn't understand who this was, but the grimace of the son of Poseidon was something to behold. The angry whinnying coming from the stables was loud, too.
  
  "How many?"
  
  "I didn't count," 'Ethan' declared, "but if the entire force isn't there, it's close enough to not make a difference. There's a forest of tents surrounding their Barrack, and others are camping in the coves where you routinely annoy the Satyrs."
  
  "I am not annoying them, my treacherous lieutenant. I'm testing their alertness and reaction levels!"
  
  "Anyway," the black-haired boy had the expression of someone who had heard this ridiculous statement too many times. "The Senators want your help dealing with them."
  
  "At the risk of saying the obvious, they're not paying me enough for that!" The black eyes became more insistent. "Fine, fine. I'm coming. Can you please escort back Ms. Dare to the Atlantean Enclave before she does something stupid, like convincing a Pegasus to give her a ride while we have our back turned?"
  
  Ah, busted. This was not fair!
  
  27 June 2007, the Senate, New Constantinople
  
  It was extremely funny to have the support of a majority of the Senate. They knew he was a Tyrant, and yet they voiced their approval every time he solemnly intervened.
  
  Of course, the opposing side was the Huntresses of Artemis, which...kind of explained everything, really.
  
  "A the risk of being mistaken for a broken recording device," there was plenty of laughter coming from the Roman witnesses, both Senators and Legionnaires. "The only things we know for certain are that Lord Apollo and Lady Artemis went to the Garden of Hesperides, and the Coalition sprang a powerful ambush, resulting in them not answering prayers, Iris-messages, or any type of query one generally address to an Olympian. Assuming that-"
  
  "It is your fault, Perseus Jackson!"
  
  Please, not this stupidity. Again.
  
  The former Tyrant tried to find the eyes of Zoë Nightshade, but the First Lieutenant avoided his glare quickly and with a noteworthy celerity.
  
  Perseus fought back a sigh. From the outside, the daughter of Atlas looked very much the same as she did before the First Great Quest, with no sign of 'corruption' inflicted by Neo Selene. It was alas problematic: it didn't mean there weren't any changes, but if they were, they were invisible to his eyes and senses.
  
  The worst problem at the moment, though, was that she didn't even try to rein in the most bigoted and aggressive Huntresses.
  
  His contempt was the least she deserved, truly.
  
  "Yes, yes," the 'calm and measured method' had not worked, he was going to see if sarcasm yielded different results. "I am Perseus Jackson, the great, the unforgettable, the survivor of a thousand adventures! I killed Commodus twice!" He forced a short pause. "Pray tell, at which point of this story I have been able to convince an Olympian God or Goddess to listen to my suggestions when they didn't want to?"
  
  The Huntress who had spoken last took a nice colour crimson.
  
  "You are a male."
  
  "And you girl, you are an immortal imbecile. Thank you for saying what everyone knew in this hall."
  
  The Huntress screamed and the arrow was flying before he finished his sentence.
  
  It was so predictable he stopped it with the palm of his right hand.
  
  "If you send me another arrow, girl, I will be sure the next thing you feel is my Hydrokinesis drowning you. That, or I will ask my father to change you into a goldfish."
  
  "Lady Artemis-"
  
  "She can't help you right now, and at the risk of once again repeating myself, I may face her displeasure when she returns, but you will still be dead or transformed into a fish. Ask your ancient sisters. I'm sure they will tell you how much your Goddess cares when one is transformed into an animal."
  
  The story of Kallisto always was a good reminder that no, Artemis wasn't always there to protect the Huntresses, and that even as an avenger of past wrongs, she sucked. Hard.
  
  "Now we have all said what we had upon our hearts, let us resume. I have been placed in command of the defences of the 'Aeternum Gate', a site where an artefact of great value must be protected, per order of Olympus. I thank everyone for their cooperation and preach for unity in the battle to come-"
  
  "We will never fight under your command, Perseus Jackson!"
  
  Naturally, it was a Huntress which spat those words, her hatred for all males overwhelming her reason.
  
  This time, he was not amused.
  
  "I don't think you have a choice, honestly. I didn't give the order, and it certainly didn't come from Atlantis either. It comes straight from the top. The Council has loaned us the automatons and everything else to defend the site until the Winter Solstice. We have already imagined a significant number of traps and stratagems which I hope will satisfy-"
  
  "Never! We will never fight by the side of those males! Who knows what kind of trickery you would pull from your hat? If it is the same as the Narcissist Rapist, at the end of it, hundreds of our sisters will be lost to the Hunt! We will not serve under your command, Perseus Jackson!"
  
  The one hundred-plus Huntresses present all stormed out of the Senate after this acidic declaration, leaving no chance for an inspired monologue.
  
  Not that he had prepared one for that, really.
  
  "Right," a Senator coughed. "That was...that was certainly something. Err...Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "Yes?"
  
  The atmosphere had shifted from 'amused' to 'sinister' in the last minutes, it must be noted.
  
  "Have you considered...err...relinquishing your command to another commander?"
  
  "Before this minute, no, but..." it took a lot of effort to avoid scowling. "There are not a lot of commanders I would be comfortable giving the baton of Marshal for the battle ahead. Luke Castellan and a few others...all are men, by the way. And unless I missed something, all your Legates as we currently speak are males too."
  
  There were several Demigoddesses who were Tribunes in the Legions, but they weren't in charge, and there was no way the Senate was going to give one a field promotion just to appease the Huntresses.
  
  "Curse it."
  
  "I can only hope the fear of the Council's wrath will force them to remember that if there is a failure and they don't act as our reinforcements, there is going to be hell to pay."
  
  In his previous life, the strategy would have been to create a schism, but here it was impossible: most of the Huntresses clearly hated him and would shoot on sight the moment he opened his mouth.
  
  There was nothing to do but wait and pray that the followers of Artemis came back to their senses. For if the Nexus Theatre fell in the Coalition's claws, everyone who had refused to do his duty in an ostensible manner was going to be punished if there was no diplomatic immunity in sight.
  
  Artemis absent, Apollo with her, there was really no one to support the Huntresses...and Perseus wasn't sure they had acknowledged it in their brainwashed heads.
  
  "Let's change the subject, Senators. I believe I sent a query to you this morning, via my chief of staff."
  
  "Yes, you did, Perseus Jackson. And the answer is positive. The Goddess Lupa has agreed to mount patrols all over the southern and western approaches with her entire pack, in exchange to the regular deliveries of premium steaks. The coordination and the translation problems however remain a serious issue..."
  
  27 June 2007, the Strawberry Fields, New Byzantium
  
  Dakota found his father petting his leopards in the middle of the strawberry fields. All right, his father under his Greek Aspect; the purple-hair, massive abs, and the pomp Bacchus often showed were nowhere to be seen.
  
  "Your friend Perseus Jackson sent you, didn't he?"
  
  "I could take a nice stroll in the strawberries to think about new ideas," the Quester said defensively.
  
  "Is that the case?" His father asked, visibly amused.
  
  "No. Though I am going to be blunt, I agree with it. The Huntresses and the Satyrs are out of control."
  
  A Leopard yawned.
  
  Dionysus sighed.
  
  "If I could order them around, I would, believe me, my son. As it is, I can only watch them and relay the orders coming from Olympus. I know they are ignoring my commands the moment they know I move away. Much like I know whatever I say when it comes to Pan enters a Satyr's ear, go through the brain without pausing, and leave by the other ear."
  
  "This is bad." One couldn't sugar-coat that.
  
  Dionysus delicately picked one giant strawberry, carefully examining under all its angles. The crimson was vivid under the sun, and the contrast between the fruit and the tanned skin would have forced several painters to work in urgency had any been present.
  
  "The problems are many. Your friend, my High Priest of Madness, Perseus Jackson, is assuredly a complete disaster when it comes to diplomacy, and the less said about Huntress diplomacy, the better. I understand his point of view, but the reality is that his words half of the time taunt the Huntresses, and that was before a Great Quest where the Lieutenants of the Hunt already believed him worse than the Gigantes."
  
  Dakota winced, but didn't contest the judgement. It was nothing but the truth, after all.
  
  "Of course, the other side is hardly blameless. My sister was so lost in nursing her grudges and repeating over and over that it was not her fault that...she effectively didn't bother to investigate how her actions were impacting the Huntresses after Commodus died. I know it would always be easier to blame the Suicide Squad rather than their flawed training and huge mistakes they'd made, but it seems the alternate choice was not even considered in the first place. This logically resulted in an army where the officers are by default the moderates, and the average Huntress is an all-male-must-die supporter."
  
  And thus the two positions were impossible to reconcile in any way.
  
  "Is there any hope?"
  
  "The Satyrs are regularly trying to organise strikes around my Palace, and I feel they're the most reasonable party of the two."
  
  He had seen them. Their weird parades involved a lot of screams - they were trying to force Pan to come back - and after that, they professed plenty of battle-cries, with the loudest of course being 'Down with the Arch-Heretic!'
  
  "It would be better if we knew the real stakes of this battle and...everything. And no, that's not Perseus speaking. That's me. Me and plenty of Amazons and Amazons Helots. We're feeling we're deliberately kept in the dark, here."
  
  "For good reason," his father said as he petted the biggest leopard of the pride. "You are."
  
  It was a very minor consolation, but Richard would owe him ten Drachmas.
  
  "The levels of paranoia are simply insane. Does the Council remember that the Coalition is still the biggest threat around?"
  
  "Paranoia, my son," Dionysus conjured a jug and threw it to him. Dakota caught it with his left hand by reflex. One year ago, he knew he would certainly have missed it, his father's throw was fast. "Paranoia is not going to care about these little things called facts. Besides, can you swear your esteemed leader would not try to use the critical information against certain Olympians if it was delivered in his hands today?"
  
  "No," Dakota admitted. "I can't."
  
  He wasn't going to say it was a wise course of action, however. Perseus had already voiced several times he was intending to decline the offer should a Great Quest be offered for the third time, and the son of Bacchus didn't think it was a bluff.
  
  Nor had the situation improved on that front since it had been hinted very suggestively the last time.
  
  "I can't, but by explaining nothing and leaving us to deal with the mess, you're making a bad situation worse. The other members of the Suicide Squad aren't clones of Perseus Jackson. Yet they are incredibly unhappy the rewards to crush the Cult of Arachne are merely 'good job' and handling them a worse mess to resolve."
  
  "I know," Dionysus bit in the giant strawberry, a frown indicating the taste was a bit off...though the leopard which was thrown the rest of the fruit didn't complain. "My hands, unfortunately, are tied, my son."
  
  27 June 2007, the Future Aeternum Gate, New Byzantium
  
  The good news was that the Aeternum Gate now truly existed, flanked by a couple of very formidable towers. The three magical nodes had been channelled through the defences, and there was a ten metres-tall obstacle in the way of every attacker now.
  
  Before that, there was a six metres-deep moat to deal with, with only a few bridges to cross it, and any foe would have to make the perilous crossing under the fire of several bunkers and automated weapon batteries, ranging from machine guns to giant steel maws.
  
  In the distance, wolves bigger than normal pick-ups patrolled while in the air, Roman Legionnaires did the same with their Pegasi and Giant Eagles in the skies.
  
  It was, obviously, very impressive work when you considered that one week ago, there was literally nothing but rabbits and verdant grass here.
  
  That was it for the good news.
  
  Between casting high-level defensive wards, Bianca had seen the flaws pile up in front of her. The stockpiles of ammunition, as impressive as they were for peace-time, were unlikely to last more than one hour. Plenty of the giant guns that had been promised were old models with slow fire rates.
  
  The modern stuff they had been promised...hadn't arrived yet.
  
  Sure, the name 'Eternal Spear of a Thousand Fires' sounded incredibly awesome, but the former Dread Empress would have settled for a name more modest and having it in her hands right now. Legendary or not-so-legendary artefacts did little good if they weren't on the battlefield when you needed them.
  
  It wasn't the only source of displeasure. Of course.
  
  That was why, when a certain son of Poseidon came back, followed like a shadow by a certain daughter of Athena, the daughter of Hades took him aside for a private conversation.
  
  "I don't think we are on the right side."
  
  Naturally, Perseus Jackson rolled his red eye in mild exasperation.
  
  "Let me remind you, oh Dreadful Majesty, that the other side thought it was a good idea to recruit Commodus, and appears to be fond of 'Motivator Implants' to make sure its humans troops don't desert or rebel."
  
  Bianca winced but didn't relent.
  
  "Surely there must be someone else."
  
  "Most of the other Titans, including those who are still imprisoned, see us as insects. The Titaness of the Seas we faced was one of the nicest ones, and the others are all associated one way or another with Olympus. Needless to say, they won't hide us as long as we don't show potential enough to justify the risks. Where the Gigantes are concerned, we are food or slaves, if not both."
  
  "The Triumvirate?"
  
  "As it is, with the exception of their only Goddess, the Triumvirate is far too weak. No. I can assure you that the Olympians are the 'best' side to serve under when it comes to self-preservation. No, it isn't that good, but we have our divine parents to give us nice Enclaves, enough funds to party and enjoy the pleasures of life."
  
  "Awesome," they both understood it was nothing of the sort. "I wonder if the other Demigods have it as bad as we do."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, your Dreadful Majesty."
  
  "We have it that bad, eh?"
  
  "No, I wanted to say, 'don't be ridiculous, the others have it worse'."
  
  The Lightning Thief stared at the ex-Tyrant with unhidden incredulity.
  
  "I find this difficult to believe."
  
  "You know the companions of De Valois we met in the Divine Mansion? I'm pretty sure they deserted to the Greek Pantheon because the alternative was to be sacrificed alive, with their heart and soul being devoured in a bloody sacrifice on top of a pyramid!"
  
  Oh, yes. Aztecs. It was a very good thing these bastards were not anywhere nearby.
  
  "You chose the extreme example," she accused him.
  
  "The Norse Pantheon considers you have missed your calling if you're not dead by your twenty-fifth birthday."
  
  "What?" Yeah, this time, both Annabeth and she uttered the word at the same time.
  
  "Had I failed to mention it before? My apologies." The grin alone told you how much the 'apology' was worth. "And yes, I am certain of what I say. Before they die for the first time, the Norse Demigods have their powers sealed. It is only when they die a suitably heroic death - in most cases against some Fire Giants or absurdly huge monsters - that the Valkyries unlock their semi-divine abilities and they are led to Valhalla Palace."
  
  "Well, the beginning sucks," Annabeth commented, "but surely going to this Palace and waiting for the Ragnarok is not that bad, right?"
  
  "On average, you die twice per day. That's the good days, you understand."
  
  Okay...right. Right. They may not be the Demigods who held the title of 'children most screwed by their divine parents'.
  
  It was because the other Pantheons placed the threshold too low, of course.
  
  "That isn't to say you didn't have a point." The grin vanished, and Perseus Jackson showed his 'serious face', which was as unanticipated as it was frightening. "Olympus is starting to take our obedience for granted. I do not like that. At all. This mess is their fault, in the end, and if it wasn't the Coalition on the other side, I wouldn't give this duty half of the commitment I am showing right now."
  
  27 June 2007, the Heroic Thermal Complex, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  It was almost a torture to get out of this divine-made show after ten minutes, but there was work to do.
  
  "I would have regretted it if we had stayed in the Sea of Monsters." Annabeth said loudly, knowing Perseus could hear her several metres and two doors away, while she grabbed undergarments, T-shirt and jeans. "The Telekhines are rather good at what they do, but I wouldn't pay them to build a palace."
  
  "If we had stayed within the Sea of Monsters," the son of Poseidon replied, "there's a lot more things you would have regretted. The unity of the Suicide Squad, just to start with. Plenty of our members were not ready to stay in the Sea of Monsters. Not as long as there was no death sentence upon their heads, anyway."
  
  "Makes sense," she muttered. "Did you hear more rumours?"
  
  "No, and that is worrying."
  
  "'Worrying', seriously?"
  
  "Annabeth, Olympus on a good day is leaking secrets like a sieve is leaking water. That's not an exaggeration; it is the sad reality. Now suddenly, without any warning, I am to believe the Council and all the major deities of the Pantheon suddenly understand the importance of Operational Security? No. The Master of Olympus must have asked strict oaths so that his subordinates keep their mouth shut in all circumstances."
  
  Annabeth left the private quarters which were hers inside the Thermal Complex, before locking the door and watching Perseus, who was waiting for her next to a dolphin statue.
  
  "When you describe it like this, it is indeed not good." The young Demigoddess agreed. "But you have some clues, at least."
  
  "Not that much," her boyfriend shook his head, allowing himself an expression of discomfort he wouldn't have shown to others save Lou Ellen. "Well, I know Apollo and Artemis screwed up, to the point that the Sun and the Moon are de facto into automatic modes, and I can say their names without risking any mild prank in return. I also know the Coalition is trying to usher something called a 'Titan's Game', which would be interesting, except the name doesn't reveal a lot of secrets by itself."
  
  The red eye shone maliciously.
  
  "I don't think it is the Titan of Crafty Counsel trying to organise a rival competition to challenge the Olympic Games."
  
  "Given how much he 'advised' Commodus in the Adjudicator Challenge, this feels incredibly unlikely, yes."
  
  Annabeth tied her blonde hair as they began to walk towards the exit, first steps of the march back to the Sea Palace.
  
  "The Nexus Theatre we're supposed to protect is tied to it."
  
  "It is. If it was up to me, I would move it somewhere else."
  
  Annabeth chuckled.
  
  "It wouldn't be very heroic."
  
  "Heroics can wait for another time. I have to assume there's something that prevents the Council from placing it in one of the secure vaults of Olympus, but it didn't mean they had to place it here."
  
  To this remark, the daughter of Athena had no convincing answer to give.
  
  It was, after all, the truth. If the Olympians wanted to keep it a secret from the Demigods at all costs, then maybe, just maybe, they could hide it somewhere which was not on the doorstep of the greatest Demigod settlement of this world...
  
  "It is still surprising for you to avoid mayhem."
  
  "I don't know what you're implying, dear. I love mayhem when it is limited to some monologues and fanciful tricks of no importance."
  
  "Sure you are." Annabeth rolled her eyes. If you believed that, she had a villa of New Constantinople to sell you. Better to not ask how far from the coast it was, you might get 'surprises'.
  
  "Besides," Perseus continued as she had not just spoken, "I don't really care about the Olympian Twins. Yes, we're technically cousins. But I don't know the Lord of the Sun well enough to make a judgement about him."
  
  Yeah, the God had given them a reward for the completion of the Great Quest...and that was pretty much it. For good or ill, Apollo had been an absent figure during their adventures. If they hadn't met Caligula - who was trying to usurp him, in case everyone forgot - the opportunities to mention him would have been divided by four or five.
  
  "As for the Lady of the Hunt and the Moon, well, she is not a friend."
  
  And she likely never will be, went unsaid.
  
  "What do you think the Coalition is after?"
  
  "I don't know," Perseus confessed. "At first, I thought they intended to give Artemis the punishment a certain Titan was given...holding the Sky Prison until they were able to drag back the Titan in chains to suffer a bit more. Unfortunately, that isn't it. Olympus wouldn't be that worried about it. And if you imprison one of the Twins that way, it leaves the other free to take revenge."
  
  That was a big mystery.
  
  An old mystery too.
  
  Before the Coalition acted, it felt most of the divine world had forgotten about it, or never learned of it in the first place.
  
  "Someone was really careful into erasing all evidence."
  
  "The 'someone' was the King of the Gods, in all likelihood." Perseus smirked. "I'm sure he did it to ensure people like me didn't get bad ideas. Unfortunately, it did nothing for those who were already aware the concept existed. The Titan of Crafty Counsel was already there, after all. Anyway! We have more urgent problems right now."
  
  "The Aeternum Gate?"
  
  "The Aeternum Gate," her boyfriend confirmed. "Unless my instincts are completely wrong, the enemy is not bloody likely to let us further fortify the area surrounding the hill. The longer they wait, the worse their fatalities are going to be, after all."
  
  28 June 2007, the Caverns of the Wilderness, secret Muster Point, close to New York
  
  The Emu Emperor was not a being used to the feeling satisfaction, but this time, pride burned under its metallic feathers.
  
  Had there been a more glorious army ever assembled in the history of Emu-kind?
  
  He thought not.
  
  "EMUS! You are about to embark upon Operation Utopia! The hopes of the Empire and the prayers of all liberty-loving birds give strength to your wings!"
  
  The excitation soared in the ranks reaching so far no eye, no matter how piercing could see the end of the immense army.
  
  "You will bring the destruction of the malevolent mammals, and their so-called 'Demigod' Champions!"
  
  This was going to be easy. Yes, taking this foul artefact of the 'Nexus Theatre' was the priority goal of the Coalition, but the Emu Emperor saw further away.
  
  Prometheus was not going to stay very long on top. Commodus had already fallen, and good riddance.
  
  Now they were going to break through and rampage properly in New Byzantium. This ironically-named 'Aeternum Gate' was not going to stop them for long, and he had a crushing numerical advantage.
  
  "The tide has turned! The free birds of the world are once again marching together under the Emu banner!"
  
  The Coalition was not long for this world. But the Stymphalian Emus? They were going to liberate this world, with a million talons!
  
  "I have decided the 66th Airborne will be given the honour to paint their beaks red first!" the Emu Emperor proclaimed. "But there is no reason to feel slighted! Our entire army will be right behind them, joining them in the glorious slaughter of the enemy!"
  
  Hundreds of Emus saluted at once.
  
  "UTOPIA!" A single word, for a glorious war. "EMU-KIND AND ALL BIRD SPECIES WILL RULE SUPREME FOR A THOUSAND YEARS!
  
  "BANZAI! LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!"
  
  28 June 2007, the Aeternum Wall in construction, New Byzantium
  
  Night watch was as boring and unpleasant as it had been two years ago.
  
  Luke yawned.
  
  One might have hoped that earning a few million Drachmas was enough to not spend your night patrolling and overseeing thousands of automatons...one might have hoped in vain, apparently.
  
  Perseus, obviously, had declared himself 'cursed with eternal laziness' and outright refused when pressed to participate in the patrols. Bianca di Angelo had looked at him murderously when the weakest attempt to convince her to join the Legionnaires after sunset had been made.
  
  "Not many members of the Suicide Squad tonight, Castellan," Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, appeared to echo his very thoughts.
  
  "The majority feel it is not their job to spend their night playing sentinel in case the enemy makes its move before dawn." The son of Hermes spoke honestly. "It doesn't help it hasn't even been six months since our last Great Quest, and of course we were involved in battling the Cult of Arachne."
  
  By the way, Luke would love to know what the explanation the Olympians had for this mess in their own backyard. Yes, some of the enemies had come directly from Las Vegas, but it was still Manhattan! The entire battlefield was the doorstep of Mount Olympus!
  
  "They should think of it as excellent training."
  
  One could say a lot of things about Jason Grace; the most important point was that he wasn't Thalia, before or after being transformed into a Pine Tree.
  
  "The training is done in their own Enclaves." Luke didn't say out loud that a rising number didn't want to obey the orders of Olympus anymore. Not without being paid a lot for their service. Which, as usual with Zeus, was not in sight right now.
  
  Yes, saving a girl who also was a potential Oracle from a horde of monsters was the right thing to do.
  
  But if you didn't pay for the heroes proportionally to the services rendered, the pool of 'volunteers' was quickly going to dry up.
  
  That wasn't pessimistic; this was the stark reality.
  
  "If only the Tribunes thought like you," Grace replied. "We were deployed with even less warning than you, and now two Cohorts of the Fulminata are permanently assigned here...in case of a danger, we are supposed to call the rest of the Legion."
  
  There were loud noises of aircraft in the distance. It was certainly some sort of military squadron flight of the United States effort, they did stuff like that irregularly.
  
  "Four hundred Questers for us," not the best or the brightest, given that participating here was worth the supper and a tent upon the construction site. "Obviously, we will rally more if there's a need."
  
  "Need to fight what, anyway?"
  
  "The papers were less than clear about that."
  
  Luke passed a hand in his hair.
  
  "It's difficult to be sure." The son of Hermes told his younger Roman counterpart as in the distance, automatons began digging a second moat under the light of enchanted fires. "Commodus had many mercenaries and monsters, but the mercenaries deserted or perished when things turned wrong for him. The monsters are a given...we just don't know how many were bred for the arena and how many were kept in reserve."
  
  "Charming."
  
  "Oh, it gets worse. The Coalition has Midas on its side; they likely have the resources and the connections to hire other mercenaries, just not Germani or any associated with the Roman world. And of course the Sire of the Drakons is, well, a Drakon, meaning the reptilian foes could deploy in large numbers very soon. This isn't counting...are those aircraft noises coming in this direction?"
  
  The roars of motors seemed to get louder and louder with every second.
  
  "Searchlights! Prepare to...oh, by all the Gods!"
  
  The night was illuminated by over a hundred projectors.
  
  It was right on time to see the first thousands parachutes open hundreds of metres above their heads.
  
  Then it got worse.
  
  Strange machines revealed themselves, and Luke couldn't help but think they looked like steampunk machines imagined for tabletop games, along with parodies of gyrocopters and other incredible aerial tools.
  
  How it could get any worse?
  
  The answer became evident after a couple of seconds.
  
  None of the attackers were humans.
  
  None.
  
  They were all-
  
  "EMUS!" The son of Hermes smashed the closest red button with all his strength. "EMUS INCOMING! ACTIVATE ALL ANTI-AIR DEFENCES IMMEDIATELY!"
  
  Most of the guns had been scheduled to arrive tomorrow, a little voice in his head whispered.
  
  It didn't feel like a coincidence.
  
  "THOSE ARE CERTAINLY THE STYMPHALIAN BREED OF THE FIRST LABOUR OF COMMODUS! TAKE UP SHIELDS! FIND COVER! THEIR STEEL FEATHERS CAN SHRED YOUR ARMOUR AND YOUR FLESH!"
  
  He had not finished screaming that the rain began.
  
  A murderous rain, one which shouldn't exist in the first place in a fair world, slammed upon the defenders of the Aeternum Gate.
  
  "RED ALERT! RED ALERT! THE COALITION ATTACK HAS BEGUN! SEND ALL REINFORCEMENTS AVAILABLE TO THE AETERNUM GATE AND NEXUS HILL!"
  
  The last strategic thought Luke had was that in the end, the enemy had indeed managed to bypass the wolfish patrols and launch a sneak attack without being detected.
  
  Then there was no time to mourn this fact.
  
  His sword sang, and it was only kill or be killed.
  
  28 June 2007, Command Post of the Coalition, somewhere far away from New York
  
  At no point should 'Airborne Emu Assault' should figure in a rational and coherent conversation.
  
  It was ridiculous, and besides, the idea it might work felt improbable in the extreme.
  
  Unfortunately, those were Stymphalian Emus, they had been given proper intelligence and support...and it made all the difference.
  
  Lityerses could concede though that the fact ten thousand of these monstrous birds had been thrown against a force they outnumbered close to ten-to-one was a big help. If there had been parity in numbers, it wouldn't have worked. If the anti-air defences had been half-way complete, it would have been a disaster.
  
  As it was, the Emus were nonetheless bleeding and dying in droves.
  
  Surprised or not, there were Demigods out there, backed up by a lot of automatons.
  
  The Aeternum Gate, while far from a finished structure, was still able to fulfil a fortress' role as the Emus arrived from all directions.
  
  More importantly, the Demigods weren't facing ten thousand Emus all at once. Several parachute-launched attack waves were ignoring Nexus Hill and the surrounding area entirely, to go after New Byzantium behind them.
  
  "I see they remembered to go after the Pegasus stables and the eagle nests." Midas snarked.
  
  "All the mayhem and chaos they can create for the next few hours can make the difference between victory and defeat." Prometheus commented without showing any emotions. "The Demigods are destroying our airborne assets far too fast; the minimum that can be done is to deny them aerial dominance over the battlefield."
  
  That, they could certainly try. Obviously, the Stymphalian Emus didn't manage to slay many Pegasi, but as they broke through the stables' area, the winged horses did what every intelligent being would do into those circumstances; they demolished the doors, and fled for their lives.
  
  The Giant Eagles were made of sterner stuff, though; their nests were soon the site of a confused bloodbath.
  
  Everywhere fires began to burn.
  
  Guns roared in anger. The City of Demigods was now waking up in the middle of the night, and thousands were rising to arms.
  
  "Any other distractions we should know about?" His father queried.
  
  "As a matter of fact, yes," the Titan replied with a thin smile which was a bad omen by itself. "I took the liberty of sending minor versions of myself through the wards under one of the 'Nature disguises' we talked about."
  
  "Why would you do something so...risky?"
  
  "These minor versions of myself are pretending to be Pan and Artemis, insisting to their blinded and deluded followers that this whole attack is just a feint and an attempt to convince them to foreswear their oaths by Perseus Jackson. That way, I immobilise thousands of Satyrs and even more Huntresses at a moment the Demigods need all the reinforcements they can get."
  
  That was...brilliant, the son of Demeter had to acknowledge. Brilliant and cruel. Assuming it worked, of course.
  
  An enormous geyser in the direction of the sea interrupted this train of thoughts.
  
  "I see the amphibious assault of the Mares of Diomedes is encountering a few difficulties near the Atlantean Enclave."
  
  Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to attack a son of Poseidon through a maritime approach?
  
  "Their incompetence is amusing," Midas continued, caressing his golden sceptre. "A good thing the Emus are far more capable than they are."
  
  The monstrous birds certainly seem to press hard the Legionnaires and the other Demigods they were facing.
  
  "Why do some of the officers wear these parodies of samurai helmets, by the way?"
  
  "I believe they were impressed by the spirit of sacrifice of these warriors as described in certain propaganda books," Prometheus mused. "The underground facilities where we hid them for close to a year must have had been close to certain libraries too."
  
  "Interesting," his genitor declared.
  
  "The Demigods are using their archers and other specialists to kill them in priority," Lityerses felt good to point out, something which brought a scowl on Midas' face.
  
  One way or another, though, the Emus were losing their numerical superiority at an insane speed. More and more Legionnaires and Demigods were rushing to the help of the defenders of the Aeternum Gate.
  
  The night shivered as from several locations, missile silos emerged from the ground before firing the equivalent of hundreds of tons of explosives which disintegrated plenty of birds.
  
  War was everywhere. In this at least, the Emu Airborne troops had perfectly played their role; with New Byzantium focused on them, the main army wasn't going to come under attack before it reached the valley.
  
  "I believe Utopia is working well enough for our purposes to launch the second phase of the plan."
  
  What?
  
  Second phase of...it had not been mentioned at any point in the briefings he had been invited to.
  
  "Tell our fellow Lords of the Coalition it is time they stop hiding. They can launch Operation Revolution."
  
  28 June 2007, the Aeternum Wall, New Byzantium
  
  Frank was in a difficult fight against an Emu cosplaying as a Samurai.
  
  No, this sentence didn't make any sense.
  
  No, he wasn't hallucinating.
  
  "I am going to flay your skin and use it as a banner, malevolent mammal!" the monster shrieked. "For too long your perfidious race has been allowed to rampage unchecked and taint this world! The Age of Mammals is over! The Age of Birds-"
  
  The son of Mars would never know how the sentence would end, for before the Emu could finish its proclamation, a giant maw swallowed it whole.
  
  Frank gaped.
  
  He wasn't the only one.
  
  All over the battlefield, Demigods and the monsters they faced temporarily froze.
  
  It was everything they weren't supposed to do when engaged in duels when their lives were at stake.
  
  On the other hand, the enemy was as surprised as them, so there was that.
  
  Finally-
  
  The 'newcomer' was big.
  
  Horrifyingly big, in fact.
  
  The worst part, of course, was realising they had seen it before this very year.
  
  Reptilian. Many, many heads. Poison which could kill you near-instantly, and corrode the metallic feathers of the Stymphalian Emus like they were made of cheap copper.
  
  And of course, for tonight was a nightmare which refused to end, Perseus Jackson was riding it.
  
  The 'it', yes, was the Carthaginian Hydra of Commodus' Games.
  
  "My friends!" the crazy Demigod called out, and everybody on the battlefield tensed. "I have come to offer you my eternal friendship. Of course, before you accept, you have to acknowledge the scaly superiority of my new lieutenant, Queen Zenobia the Second!"
  
  "Vile traitor!" an Emu wearing a demonic helmet squeaked, anger clearly struggling with fear. "You dare to oppose our Emperor's Utopia?"
  
  "I signed a contract and the Coalition broke it!" Oh yes, the Carthaginian Hydra was able to speak a human language now. How bad this night could get? "You heard the name of my new generous patron, Stymphalian Emus! Surrender or die!"
  
  "We will never surrender! BANZAI!"
  
  There were about one thousand of the monsters left.
  
  In common accord, they all tried to charge and kill the Hydra. Or Perseus Jackson. The latter was riding the former; it was as such a bit difficult to know who was the priority target!
  
  What was certain, however, was that in the next seconds, they witnessed a slaughter.
  
  The poison of the Hydra easily reaped half of the birds' lives, and what it didn't, Perseus Jackson massacred them mercilessly.
  
  The fighting soon ended, due to a distinct lack of enemies remaining alive to provide opposition.
  
  "All right," the son of Poseidon dismounted his formidable 'reinforcement' while petting a few heads. "Status of the Nexus Theatre?"
  
  "Intact," Jason stepped forwards. "But we can't say the same about the Aeternum Gate. The Emus weren't alone; they brought those strange Clay statues. Some of them acted as kamikazes every time they got too close to the Gate. We have no breaches thankfully, but we need to repair immediately."
  
  "I don't think we will get the time to repair, unfortunately." Perseus Jackson shook his head. "Return all the automatons that are still functional to the positions around the Nexus Theatre. Once it is done-"
  
  The howling interrupted the leader of the Suicide Squad.
  
  It was a long, painful, and very, very loud howling.
  
  Frank didn't need an order to charge in direction of the stairs, running with all the vitality he had left to reach the top of the wall as fast as possible.
  
  At first, he didn't really understood what he was seeing. Many searchlights had been broken. Dozens of airborne transporters had crashed upon bombing and the killing zone that had been extensively prepared for an assault. Ammunition was exploding everywhere. It was a spectacle of ruin and apocalypse; the Emus' assault couldn't have lasted more than one hour, but they had already left an ugly mark which was going to need a long time to erase.
  
  Wolf howling resonated again, and as it did, the guns fired illumination shells and some various rockets to improve their sight in the middle of this dark night.
  
  That was why they saw over a dozen giant wolves galloping towards the Aeternum Gate first.
  
  "That has to be Lupa's pack..."
  
  "No way, it's way, way bigger than that! And Lupa is not among them...why are they coming so fast?"
  
  As more illumination flares and shells were fired, the answer to that was provided in its unholy and monstrous glory.
  
  "No..."
  
  It was like a black sea had decided to come into existence from the hills and forests of this part of New York.
  
  It was like-
  
  There were so many of them.
  
  "EMUS! STYMPHALIAN EMUS! WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS!"
  
  "This airborne assault was just the vanguard and a way to probe our defences...now the real assault is about to begin."
  
  Frank just realised then Perseus Jackson was on his right, glaring at the enemy.
  
  "Summon all our reinforcements, be they Questers, Demigods, or something else. I am sending emergency couriers to the Amazons, Huntresses, and all the forces at our disposal. And if you have prayers to spare, use them to ask your parents for more soldiers and auxiliaries to help us."
  
  The Emu onslaught poured into the valley.
  
  It was like an endless nightmare conjured to end the world of the living.
  
  "Defend the Aeternum Gate with everything you have. Don't offer the Emus mercy, for they have none for you. Oh, and send teams to help Queen Zenobia the Second use the macro-lift. We are really going to need her help on top of the ramparts."
  
  29 June 2007, the Lotus Club, London, England
  
  "It looks like the enemy has thrown a lot of those strange birds at our cousins." Fergus whistled.
  
  "You're too easily impressed. We did far more impressive things in our lifetime. We broke the charge of a thousand elephants to start our Great Quest! And we didn't have an army to support us, or walls to hide behind!"
  
  "Now, now Leopold..." Aurelian chided him gently. "You should be careful, a bit more, and you're going to offend our cousins!"
  
  For a few seconds, the Demigods watched each other in silence...and then all burst into laughter.
  
  "Oh, that was a good one," Leopold Crowley said while drawing more cards upon the table he had reserved as usual for himself alone. "They're really pathetic."
  
  "I don't know if I would go that far," Oliver replied.
  
  "Then let me say it for you," Helen, his twin, declared before resuming sipping her tea. "Our successors are truly pathetic. The other Pantheons were filled with inferior barbarians, but at least they allowed us to sharpen our sabres and bayonets. They eliminated the unworthy, and allowed us to reach the heights of greatness. Now that there is a small amount of opposition rising, the cousins are hilariously out-thought and lacking in power and skill."
  
  "That's kind of true," Oliver tried to argue, "but unlike in our era, they don't have a lot of children of the Big Three to lead them."
  
  "True," Aurelian had to admit it was a good point. His sister and himself were two of the most powerful children of Zeus-Jupiter of the eighteenth century, but they were hardly the only ones to have achieved many exploits. When they had trained in the fields of New Byzantium to become proper Questers, they had been forced to share their housing with about thirty of their half-siblings.
  
  The children of Poseidon-Neptune had only half of those numbers, but it still had been a significant number.
  
  To know that these days, you could count them on the fingers of one hand with fingers to spare was a permanent disappointment.
  
  "If only they got us out and placed us in command, we would teach our cousins how things are really done."
  
  Leopold snickered. As befit of a son of Trivia, it was a sound which often caused fear in the hearts of those who were not used to it.
  
  "If they'd wanted to free us, they would have done it after 1945, Aurelian." The sorcerer of their Quester Group gave him one of his deranged expression. Ah, great, Leopold had gone overboard with the drugs again...
  
  "No matter how far we were from Madras and Calcutta, the Gods of the Indus and the Ganges were sore losers," Leopold continued. "They weren't pleased we were skilled enough to kill tens of thousands of their weaklings, along with their so-called 'sacred beasts'. They couldn't do anything to stop us, so they went to complain to our parents. What it is, if not the behaviour of vermin which should have had the intelligence to crawl before us?"
  
  Aurelian winced, despite himself.
  
  He had said something very close to his father, when summoned to Olympus for the last time.
  
  To say Mighty Zeus had not been impressed was a legendary sample of British understatement.
  
  Within twenty-four hours, they had all been arrested and told to enjoy a 'temporary period of rest inside the Lotus Club'. The 'temporary', of course, had been a lie. They were unable to get out.
  
  "Nice shots," Rayleigh reacted as thousands of Emus disappeared in massive explosions. "If we'd had this artillery ourselves, we would not have had most of the problems we did."
  
  "How would we have carried them?" Aurelian countered. "Last I checked, the sorry excuse for roads we had to use were not going to let us move some of the field cannons we could take for ourselves, never mind bigger guns."
  
  "One man can dream, no?"
  
  "As long as your dreams are-"
  
  The explosion, this time, did not come from the television the Lotus-eaters had placed at their disposal.
  
  It was far, far closer on their side of the 'entertainment'...and it was followed by a highly-pitched scream.
  
  "Forgive me, friends," Leopold said without amusement, "but I don't believe I heard our hosts intended to present-"
  
  The son of Trivia didn't have the time to utter the last words; the explosion blasted apart the wall next to him in the next second.
  
  The shockwave was so powerful it threw them all from their chairs.
  
  By the time his ears had stopped tolling like a death bell, Aurelian was covered in dust, debris, and more things he wasn't able to identify properly.
  
  "By all the rubies we stole from this stupid Nawab, what just happened?" the son of Zeus spat, and with it came blood. Not good. "The Lotus-eaters are not supposed to be attacked in the first place, they're under the unofficial protection of Olympus."
  
  "Yes, yes they are."
  
  He recognised that voice.
  
  All had learned to dread it during their Great Quest, whether her actions benefitted them or not.
  
  "Eris."
  
  From the smoke she emerged, dressed like...
  
  She was dressed weirdly. Very weird, yes. Her hair had been shaped to look like a purple-blue crest.
  
  Plenty of the clothes were either in tatters or some absurd leather dyed in shades that could injure your eyes just by glancing at them.
  
  One thing that was not in doubt, never in doubt: it was not an imposter.
  
  It truly was the Goddess of Discord.
  
  "Unfortunately for these poor Lotus-eaters, the era where I was nicely taking orders from Olympus is at an end." A malicious smile blossomed, as Aurelian helped Helen stand on shaky legs. "This time, I decided to innovate. The apples I threw at today's Olympian banquet were filled with Greek Fire. It was a hell of a party, let me tell you."
  
  "You have joined the Coalition," Leopold accused her, voice tainted with horror.
  
  His divine half-sister clapped her hands slowly, as if to congratulate the sorcerer.
  
  "Join is a bit incorrect, Leopold Crowley. I am one of their Founding Members."
  
  "Our father will never forgive you for this treachery."
  
  Eris bared her teeth, uncaring of the danger and the threat.
  
  "I don't care anymore about what this whoremonger thinks, oh sister of mine. I was denied a seat among the Council time and time again, exiled countless time from court for centuries, and treated lower than this drunk of Dionysus! I was forced to beg for the lesser privileges when stupid boars like Ares received everything because they were the favourites, the sons of Hera!"
  
  The smoke changed, and coalesced into ghostly figures.
  
  It was hard to tell the details, but it felt as if it was the rendition of one ancient battle, where every side was joyously killing each other.
  
  There was a well of spite waiting, predicting their moves, urging them to fall upon each other, break their friendships, and make a mess of unity...just because they could.
  
  "The Demigods of New Byzantium are unable to understand the shields Olympus offers them are just tissues of paper. They're paying the price as we speak. But you, you Plunderers of the Bengal, Defilers of Shangri-La, you are not like them. For you, it is not too late to deny the Olympians, and abjure your ancient allegiance."
  
  A hand was extended.
  
  Aurelian Clive snorted derisively.
  
  "I never trusted you before, Eris, and I am not going to make that titanic mistake now. I don't like the King for our long imprisonment here, but I seem to remember most of the evidence about our 'crimes' was provided by you. You were the one to sell us to the Council, never mentioning some of the atrocities were unleashed by your actions."
  
  For the first three breaths, there was no reaction.
  
  Then a new shockwave struck them, and they all fell to their knees, gasping for air which wasn't coming.
  
  "I really hoped you would join me in defiance, you know. The grudges of mortals are truly fascinating..."
  
  There was a noise similar to the click of fingers, and the contact of metal against his skin was repeated against his neck, legs, and arms.
  
  "Olympus will know what you have done here!" Helen threatened the Goddess of Discord.
  
  "Yes, but not in time to do any good. Now please shut up, or I'm going to hurt one of you very badly. I don't think I need more than one or two Demigods for the ritual, and the Sire of the Drakons wouldn't shed a tear if I presented him your skull..."
  
  29 June 2007, the Aeternum Wall, New Byzantium
  
  Twenty-four hours.
  
  In the next twenty-four hours, the defensive positions would have received over a thousand additional guns, enough ammunition to fire for three days without pausing, and more traps than he could describe it.
  
  "Death to the Malevolent Mammals!"
  
  "Oh, shut up," Perseus said, before decapitating the Emu. One slight tremor later, all the ladders which had tried to attack this section collapsed, sending to death hundreds of monsters.
  
  The ladders had been modified to be extremely stable and large, in order to permit flightless birds to use them...but when they broke, the damage was significant.
  
  "One great flight for-"
  
  "I thought I told all of you to shut up!" this last Emu, he pushed to his death himself.
  
  As if things couldn't go worse, Lust began to burn him from the inside.
  
  Meaning-
  
  With a wince, Perseus discarded the flames of raging passion towards Kimiko. There was a time to succumb to this most devastating sin, and this wasn't it.
  
  "They're attacking the Aquila, Triumph, and Salt Gates too, Jackson. The Gemina had to send back three Cohorts immediately to avoid a collapse of southern New Constantinople." Ethan informed him.
  
  "The Emus are trying to use their enormous numerical superiority for as long as they have it, it's normal."
  
  Furthermore, they were so many of them throwing themselves all over the kilometre-long wall making the liaison between New Byzantium and Aeternum Gate that more Emus here wasn't doing that much good.
  
  The valley was already over-crowded with Stymphalian Emus right now, striking in endless waves and rains of metallic feathers.
  
  Each onslaught had been shattered and massacred so far. It was not enough to convince more to mount more and more assaults.
  
  "At least your Hydra is able to defend the Aeternum Gate by herself."
  
  "The best investment I ever made in the last week," the former Tyrant joked, before grabbing an electrified javelin and throwing at a kabuto-equipped Emu. If all the officers of the enemy were stupid enough to wear Japanese samurai helmets as distinction signs, Perseus wasn't going to refuse the gift. "The Amazons?"
  
  "Dakota and Hylla arrived about a couple of minutes ago," the son of Nemesis cleaned up the monster blood which had poured upon his grim visage. "I think with the thousand Amazons they brought, they will manage to shore up our western flank and everything up to Aquila. But they won't be able to do more than that. There are way too many Emus."
  
  The battlefield erupted at that instant, as more of the Telekhine missiles he had ordered slammed into the enemy horde.
  
  Thousands of Emus were sent straight to the Pit of Tartarus before they understood what had killed them.
  
  "That is a good investment too," Ethan shrugged.
  
  "I wish I had more of them," the Lord of the Suicide Squad admitted, taking the opportunity of the short lull to take a chocolate bar and half a jug of energy drink. "Those were just for a contingency plan, but we already used over fifty of them tonight."
  
  It was a relatively easy way to eliminate a lot of enemies without risk, but that left only twenty or thirty, and the Emus kept coming!
  
  "We need reinforcements very badly."
  
  "One Legion was absent and is marching back as fast as it can humanly do. The two others are already committed."
  
  "I know!"
  
  In the distance, as if to support his words, the eagle standard of the Legio Fulminata began to shine like a star.
  
  Two seconds later, lightning fell upon the battlefield, with a thunderous roar to signify all the displeasure of Olympus.
  
  Since there had been plenty of Clay creations of Epimetheus there, more explosions followed, as unstable ammunition detonated and set fire to more stuff.
  
  The Emus and their support elements had received a heavy blow there too.
  
  It should have mattered.
  
  It didn't.
  
  Already the tide of monsters was pushing forwards, trampling the corpses, savaging the metal carcasses, and screaming unholy vengeance against the defenders.
  
  "I know." He had to calm himself, otherwise the Lust was going to come back, and even if it didn't, losing his mind on a battlefield was the opposite of 'smart behaviour'. "We need the Huntresses and the Satyrs."
  
  "We send couriers, and they were chased away from their tent camps before any could say a word of their requests," Ethan grimaced. "Not everyone can intercept their arrows before they hit."
  
  What was wrong with the servants of Artemis?
  
  If it had been a minor attack, Perseus would have understood it. But here, if they didn't stop the Emu assault, there wasn't any question New Byzantium would be razed to its foundations.
  
  "Try to send more messengers, all girls. Tell them...I don't know what to tell them, but they must rush at the section guarding our right flank! It won't do us any good to hold the Aeternum gate if the enemy is able to break through in our rear and provoke a limited encirclement!"
  
  "I will send them. I...I just don't know what good it will do."
  
  "Neither do I, but..."
  
  The night was not so dark anymore, now that it was burning in the fires of war.
  
  There always were more Emus to decapitate, more shields to bring up in order to protect themselves form these infernal rains of metal falling in the form of feathers.
  
  Worse, the monsters began to bring heavier machinery against them, the devices that had been in the rear-guard by default as the Emus tried to rush and conquer the walls before an effective resistance could be mounted.
  
  Now that it was clear this strategy had failed, the monstrous birds were re-arming...sometimes literally, installing repeater crossbows upon their wings to increase their firepower.
  
  It was just a long period of slaughter, and unfortunately, with every minute, they were wounded Legionnaires and Questers leaving the walls, in stretchers or carried away by their comrades.
  
  Many were coming back fast, courtesy of the Golden Fleece. Others didn't come back at all.
  
  "We have a problem."
  
  Yesterday, this should have warranted a joke. Here and now? A bad thing was about to happen, and Perseus had already no reserve to speak of.
  
  "Hylla." The proper protocols to address Amazonian royalty could wait for another day, assuming they lived to see it. "I already have many problems, but continue."
  
  "Seismographs are increasingly active, and according to my specialist here...the mini-earthquakes are consistent with the records we have on Myrmekes digging tunnels when they feel discretion is of no importance."
  
  Myrmekes. Giant Ants.
  
  And their right flank was effectively wide open, for all intents and purposes.
  
  "How much time do we have left?"
  
  "At the pace the seismographs are suggesting...they're here within the hour. Jackson, you won't be able to stay here for long if something doesn't drastically change. You should swallow your pride and beg Atlantis for reinforcements-"
  
  "I have not begged in person, but I certainly did ask for thousands of troops," he interrupted her. "I am not that arrogant, your Majesty. I also can add two plus two. I did make the request yesterday, when I felt the attack was imminent. I was promised close to ten thousand Atlantean troops."
  
  Reyna's sister was not stupid. She could count how many of them had arrived so far: zero.
  
  "This is really, really bad."
  
  Yes. The only reason for his father or the Generals of Atlantis to not deploy those troops was that they were far more urgently needed closer to home.
  
  "We are going to have to win without Atlantis." Easy to shout in public; far more difficult to accomplish on the battlefield. "I am going to try to rebuild a proper reserve. Hold your section, Amazons."
  
  Switching frequency, Perseus searched for the codes he had hoped to not use so soon.
  
  "Comrade Rico!"
  
  "Boss!"
  
  "Begin Operation Zeppelin!"
  
  29 June 2007, the Grand and Royal Palace of the Seas, Atlantis
  
  Suffering.
  
  Physical suffering.
  
  It was not something that he had experienced a lot since the punishment for the last Great Oath he had broken.
  
  Emotional suffering was far more common in this age of supremacy.
  
  It reminded him the times of the Titanomachy when he had been young and injured nearly every day-
  
  Why was he wounded?
  
  He had been about to watch in his private quarters something and-
  
  No.
  
  His fury rose.
  
  Who had dared attacking him in the seat of his power?
  
  Who had dared placing a bomb in his very bedroom?
  
  With an effort of will, he reformed.
  
  He was the Sovereign of the Seas.
  
  He was the Earthshaker.
  
  He was Poseidon.
  
  His essence flowed back into a single, divine, body.
  
  The Trident jumped into his right hand.
  
  He was the King of Atlantis.
  
  His kingdom was under attack.
  
  All over his domain, he could feel them, the enemies just revealed. He could almost taste them, the attackers who were trying to slay his servants, his guards, his guests, and everyone swimming in his halls. Where panic and fear ruled the hearts, many of those black souls laughed at the vile acts they perpetrated
  
  Poseidon struck.
  
  Water was his to command in its divine and unlimited presence as long as no other deity of equal rank was here to stop him.
  
  Macro-Hydrokinesis, the scientists would have called it.
  
  In reality, it meant a million replicas of his Trident rising and impaling his enemies, turning their malevolent joy into horror.
  
  The enemy assault stopped dead.
  
  For good measure, the Olympian God sent a second wave, slaughtering and inflicting near-total casualties.
  
  Only then Poseidon truly looked.
  
  The Lord of Horses and Seas froze for a fraction of a second.
  
  "No."
  
  He had thought the enemy had somehow grabbed an artefact allowing them to infiltrate Atlantis and his Palace.
  
  Failing that, there had been secret rituals of invisibility preventing anyone, even the divine, from smelling the blood in the water.
  
  It took him really, really little time to see none of these two options was the correct one.
  
  No, every dead attacker he could perceive, down to the last, from the prostitutes some of his nobles invited to the greatest warriors, had only a single and unique value in common.
  
  They were part of the same Royal Guard.
  
  "WHERE ARE YOU?" Fury he had thought to have under control since the second Great War was once more unleashed.
  
  Three giant sea monsters who had been approaching Atlantis to join the bloodbath received giant-sized Tridents between their eyes - and they had many of them. Evisceration began. Monster blood was shed in unfathomable quantities.
  
  Slowly, then at a faster pace, the armies of Atlantis rallied.
  
  The Palace was purged of hostile presence.
  
  Atlantis City soon would be too.
  
  More monsters came, of course. The attempt had been well prepared.
  
  Poseidon listened to the screams. He forced himself to not lash out as the results of the plot became all too clear: panicked faces, screaming civilians, and many, too many of his loyal guards, be they Humans, Mermen, or Risen Fishes Commanders, having perished.
  
  This was treachery on a grand scale.
  
  This was an atrocity the likes of even Oceanus at his worst had not perpetrated.
  
  It was-
  
  Poseidon found it, at last.
  
  There was fighting near the Coral Gate, and not because of confusion.
  
  The Lord of Atlantis conjured in haste an armour, and gathered back more of the essence he had dispersed across the world before this treachery began.
  
  In his urge to come too fast, Poseidon smashed the pavement and plenty of the corals which made the defences artistically pleasant.
  
  For the first time in a long, long while, Poseidon didn't care.
  
  All his divine senses were glaring at the guilty party.
  
  Glaring yes. But at the same time, the Sovereign of the Seas felt a small part of him die. Until the last second, his heart had prayed there was usurpation of identity, or another explanation possible.
  
  Now he knew for certain this wasn't the case.
  
  Not when the chief architect of it was carrying his unconscious daughter bride-style. Aspen of course had fought back, but it hadn't been enough...and now they were binders of Orichalcum around her wrists and ankles, linked together by an intricate system of chains. She was unconscious, but still breathing.
  
  "Triton."
  
  How had he not seen coming?
  
  "You arrived far faster than I thought, father."
  
  It was as if a veil had been removed, and his son was now presenting a new face to the world and the seas.
  
  There was no physical change, not truly. It was the behaviour, the way the weapons were held.
  
  Speaking of weapons-
  
  "Yes," his Heir levitated higher the instrument of death he levitated via his powers, as both his hands were already occupied. "This is indeed the artefact which allowed me to hide my intentions until the last moment."
  
  "It is the dagger Oceanus always gave to his favourite of the time," the cursed thing had been placed into a vault since the end of the Titanomachy, and he had never been tempted to look at it once more. "You have fallen far."
  
  "Don't use this righteous judgement's tone with me!" Triton snarled, and madness danced in his eyes. "Not when you didn't do anything to return my daughter to me!"
  
  "What happened to Scylla was regrettable, but-"
  
  "It is not regrettable, it was murder by another name, and that bitch Artemis was the one who gave the order! Yes, Circe provided some of the means, but it was the precious daughter of Zeus who once again tried to kill someone of our family! And you did nothing to punish her!"
  
  Poseidon felt both anger and shame imbue every part of his divine essence.
  
  How could he have missed this?
  
  How had everyone of Atlantis missed this? Poseidon didn't believe himself omniscient, but there were a lot of beings, immortals or mortals, always speaking or close to Triton and-
  
  Yet no one had seen it coming.
  
  "If you don't give me my vengeance, father, then the Coalition will."
  
  It hurt. It was expected after this, but it hurt nonetheless.
  
  "Release my daughter, your sister, son."
  
  "For you to smite me before I go through the Coral Gate? I think not. Besides, we have a use for her."
  
  Poseidon had heard enough. He moved.
  
  Unfortunately, there was the damned artefact of Oceanus' power.
  
  The water suddenly refused to obey his commands, generating an enormous bubble that his Trident barely pierced.
  
  Of course, all the survivors of his son's guards went on the attack.
  
  A second later, a titanic amount of ink spread everywhere.
  
  By the time all these three issues were dealt in different ways, that is with the treacherous guards slain, the ink banished, and the 'bubble' shattered with the weapon broken under his tail, Triton was long gone.
  
  "Find him!" He commanded to his hunting parties and Generals. "Find my treacherous son, and free my daughter from his clutches!"
  
  Deep inside, though, Poseidon feared they would fail.
  
  It was not a moment of panic or a rash decision.
  
  His Heir - who wouldn't be called that way if he had anything to say about it after today - had betrayed them all.
  
  29 June 2007, the Aeternum Wall, New Byzantium
  
  It said quite something about her two lives that the metallic Emus she faced today were way easier to deal with than the undead of her previous life.
  
  It appeared that no matter the reality, be they Gods or all the Monsters in Creation, the Dead King and his frightening armies of skeletons supported by countless hidden horrors were a force to reckon with.
  
  Of course, never had the Dead King mustered so many dead on a single battlefield.
  
  The Coalition had.
  
  "I will claim your head for the Coalition, malevolent mammal!"
  
  The Emu lost its talons, then its beak...and finally, its head.
  
  Thalia breathed out...and naturally, three Emus were rushing from the just arrived siege tower to take the place of the one she had killed.
  
  Rising her shield saved once again her life; the damn feathers hit hard, and did some nasty things to the steel shaped and strengthened by the Roman forges. Once again, the former Black Queen went on the attack. Three feints, three blows, and the Emus died.
  
  "PUSH!"
  
  At the same time, the daughter of Zeus grabbed a bag of grenades and threw them through the opening in the tower, where already more Emus were mustering.
  
  There was a lot of gore and destruction in the next seconds.
  
  It was before the siege tower fell, crushing more of the monster birds, and detonating several of the Clay 'kamikazes'.
  
  Since at the same moment the giant Hydra made her return at the top of the wall, the enemy assault broke once more. Poison flowed, and for all their metallic natural armour, the Stymphalian Emus couldn't do anything but dying against that.
  
  It gave them the opportunity to breathe for a few seconds.
  
  Just breathe.
  
  As far as the eye could see, one could only see fire, mountains of corpses, and the ranks of the enemy relentlessly coming to storm the walls.
  
  "We're holding, but only just," she told Luke. "It is beginning to feel they have an attrition strategy, and without reinforcements of our own, it is only a question of time before they break somewhere. The Hydra is guarding the Gate, but she can't be anywhere else while she does that. And using our best skills is too physically exhausting when there is always an Emu to take the place of the one we killed the second before."
  
  "I know, but it isn't like we have a lot of alternatives. Perseus said he...oh, no, what has the madman decided to unleash now?"
  
  Thalia looked in the same direction as Luke...upwards.
  
  In the storm of swords and feathers, she had somehow missed the giant balloon of ovoid shape that was slowly descending to join the carnage.
  
  It was not a beautiful thing; the 'shell' of the balloon being painted orange may have something to do with it first and foremost.
  
  Its name however couldn't be missed: it had been painted in giant black letters.
  
  Deus Ex Penguinus, proclaimed the letters. Thalia was sure the Tyrant has used some form of bastardised Latin which would horrify the linguists.
  
  Because everything was Jackson's fault, megaphones began to play out martial music.
  
  "The time has come! Penguin lieutenants, release the Blasting Ominous Object of Mass Destruction!"
  
  "Of course he did," Luke muttered next to her. "In my humble opinion, he just wanted to use the acronyms to get BOOM..."
  
  The penguins cackled so hard they could hear them from here.
  
  "Right on it, Boss!"
  
  "Evacuate the Ramparts and the Gates! Immediately!"
  
  Thalia wanted to say it was the power behind the act of Speaking which forced all the Legionnaires to obey the commands, but honestly, everyone by then had heard of the penguins' reputation.
  
  If something big had been planned with those maniacs, it was likely going to end with high collateral damage.
  
  No one, not even the craziest Legionnaires and Questers, wanted to die from what they had planned.
  
  "Blasting Ominous Object of Mass Destruction is released! KA-BOOM incoming!"
  
  The thing which fell from the ovoid balloon was a bomb for sure.
  
  Thalia didn't see more, as she took refuge with all the other soldiers within the walls, jumping fast into the stairs to give the other Demigods more space.
  
  She definitely felt the cataclysmic shockwave, though.
  
  KAAAAAAAAAAAABBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!
  
  The daughter of Zeus also felt the hellish warmth, and the shrieks of all the last magical protections around the gates being activated to ensure they didn't cook alive.
  
  "What...was that?" A girl younger than her coughed violently.
  
  "That was...a very, very big bomb, okay?"
  
  "On your feet, I want your heads and your arms back on the ramparts in a minute!"
  
  Yes, they really couldn't get any rest.
  
  Would this cursed night ever end?
  
  The former Queen's thought ended abruptly when she saw what faced the ramparts anymore.
  
  Nothing.
  
  Nothing but a charred battlefield where green flames burned in irregular patterns.
  
  There was an absurdly gigantic giant crater some distance away from the Aeternum Gate...whose incredibly tough metallic wall looked like it had seen far better days.
  
  This last thought was almost a distraction, in a way.
  
  No, Thalia, nothing wrong about this absurdly giant crater which was big enough to serve as a grave for an entire Legion.
  
  Distraction for what?
  
  Everything.
  
  Everything in the blast zone that hadn't been able to take refuge behind the protections offered by the Aeternum Gate and the shields of New Byzantium had perished in this central zone.
  
  The other fronts had plenty of enemies, but...
  
  This was really a big, big crater.
  
  This bomb had just slaughtered in a single second...how many?
  
  Seventy, maybe eighty thousand?
  
  Yes, that had to be around that.
  
  More than seventy thousand Emus, dead in mere seconds, from a single colossal bomb.
  
  Suddenly, Thalia understood perfectly why the Gnomes of Calernia had stopped everyone from playing with gunpowder and steam engines.
  
  Give them to a Tyrant like Kairos Theodosian, and there wouldn't be much of a Calernia left a decade later.
  
  "Thank goodness it worked," speak of the Demon, and he will appear.
  
  Then her ears truly registered the dreadful comment.
  
  "You weren't sure it was going to function as you intended?"
  
  The red eye for a moment looked almost apologetic. Almost.
  
  "This bomb was a prototype! We intended to request an Olympian training ground to test it next week!"
  
  The day was-
  
  Excuse her, the night was getting worse and worse.
  
  "And honestly, it felt very, very necessary to use it," Perseus Jackson continued in a far more cynical and composed voice. "My batteries were out of missiles, and we weren't able to kill enough Emus to matter in a conventional manner to cut down their numbers appreciably. The BOOM weapon changed that."
  
  It was difficult not to agree, when you observed the scale of the slaughterhouse.
  
  Quite a few Emus were still burning alive, but the great majority had been utterly pulverised in fragments of metal forever merged with bird flesh.
  
  For the first time too, she thought in the distance the first signs of panic in certain ranks.
  
  The heavily armoured Stymphalian Emus behind put an end to the ideas of retreat with aggressive beaks and a few examples, but...but the enemy had been shaken, and shaken a lot.
  
  They still had tens of thousands of assets to storm the walls, obviously, but their numerical advantage was far, far smaller than it once had been.
  
  One more blow like this-
  
  Then Thalia remembered the Tyrant's words.
  
  "When you said the bomb was a prototype..."
  
  "I had only one of them to use against the Emus, yes." There was a grimace, and the red eye glimmered in a sinister manner. "Producing Greek Fire on an industrial scale is already complicated enough and demands a lot of permits, but the detonators and the security mechanisms to make the Blasting Ominous Object of Mass Destruction safe to transport had to be invented by the Telekhines from scratch. Even if we had not other priorities right now, it would likely require a few more weeks to get another bomb of equivalent power."
  
  "We don't have a few weeks."
  
  "No, we don't. In all likelihood, this will be all over far sooner." Jackson drew a communication device from his pocket and placed him against his ear. "Yes? What do you mean they have paused? They're still there, right? Myrmekes are not going to...all right, I understand. They're changing course, aren't they?"
  
  Thalia didn't like the sound of that at all.
  
  They weren't in Creation anymore, but it felt very much like one of those moments when a Villain was about to reveal his flying fortress or the 'super-weapon' he had taken years to assemble.
  
  The sense of foreboding, unfortunately, was verified one more time.
  
  There was an enormous rumbling sound, and then five hundred metres away, directly facing the Aeternum Gate, the ground began to collapse.
  
  It was like a God was shaping, moulding, destroying the earth before giving it a new shape.
  
  Everyone didn't say a word.
  
  Even the Stymphalian Emus, their metallic beaks shining as the green flames flickered and burned the supplies and siege engines they had brought here, were staying subdued.
  
  Whatever was preparing, it was incredibly bad.
  
  "Any chance to stop it?"
  
  "These are tunnels built by Myrmekes. They are famous for building incredibly stable structures. I don't think I can shake the earth hard enough from here to collapse the tunnel exit...and they would likely dig elsewhere the moment I have finished striking. The only solution there is to make a sally."
  
  "It would be suicidal."
  
  There were way too many Emus out there; no one but the giant Carthaginian Hydra would survive longer than a few minutes. They would be encircled and then torn apart by ten thousand angry beaks and twice that number of lethal talons.
  
  "Yes. There isn't anything we can do to stop them...even the blast of the BOOM and its Green Fire must not have hit more than the surface tunnel."
  
  The conversation ended, for the Myrmekes were pouring out.
  
  Thalia hid her wince behind an impassive mask.
  
  Those were really, really big ants, all right. And the chitin protecting them looked incredibly tough.
  
  Surprisingly, they didn't rush in their direction. They didn't come straight for their throats, despite the emptiness of the battlefield that was created by the Greek Fire and all those dead Emus.
  
  No, the Myrmekes, crimson on their back, gold-shaded for the bellies, took up a 'V' formation, effectively flanking the openings of the tunnels they had just exited from.
  
  Now that the agitation was decreasing a bit and the guns could fire illumination flares again, Thalia saw there were five giant tunnels.
  
  All were big enough to let something as big as the Carthaginian Hydra use them.
  
  This was going to be unpleasant. The majority of the Myrmekes they could see were as big as a German Shepherd; they didn't need tunnels that big.
  
  No, if they had dug that, it was for a reason, and the Black Queen knew they weren't going to like it.
  
  The battlefield stayed silent for one additional minute.
  
  It was abruptly broken when a tongue of fire - there was no other way to describe it - was expelled from one of the tunnels.
  
  "Oh no," the Tyrant next to her murmured. "They brought that."
  
  "What is this new devilry?" the daughter of Zeus asked.
  
  "It is death and hell in one reptilian body," Perseus Jackson said darkly. "But here, on this world, we call them Drakons."
  
  A curse was uttered.
  
  "If the number of tunnels and these flames are a big clue, Python did us the honour of sending five of them, all of considerable size...and they're all descendants of the Primordial Drakon of Magma."
  
  The first head appeared.
  
  For all her experience and long life spent encountering very dangerous monsters in Calernia, she shivered for a few seconds.
  
  That was hell, indeed, and looked even far more dangerous than the dragon the Dread Empire once counted among its Legions.
  
  29 June 2007, the Labyrinth Gate, the Underworld
  
  When he materialised anew in his war persona, Hades arrived just in time to see many of the fugitives disappear through the portal leading to the Labyrinth.
  
  And he was almost sure that Crassus and two or three of his 'lesser Triumvirate' had been in this rear-guard.
  
  The Lord of Hell scowled.
  
  The insurrection in the Fields of Punishment had been dangerously well organised, freeing some of the worst contenders and requiring his intervention lest Megaera and her sisters be overwhelmed.
  
  Then the riots had come. On the Asphodel barges and bridges. In the towers defending the approaches of Elysium. In the deserts and oases guarded by Calypso. In the frozen mountains, with fanatics even finding the courage to go against the Ice Drakons. The discord was spreading everywhere, for no discernible reason at all.
  
  Every time the Sovereign of the Underworld turned his head, things went wrong, courtesy of dozens of baubles created by the hand of Eris herself.
  
  At this point, Hades had stopped wondering if Zeus' most insolent daughter had a hand in this, and rather began to wonder how high-ranked she was in the hierarchy of the Coalition.
  
  One didn't go the trouble of plunging his realm into chaos if one wanted to keep one's powerbase upon Olympus.
  
  Hera had suffered a huge punishment for far less elaborate treason.
  
  Of course, when everything went wrong, it had been impossible to keep an eye upon everything and everyone.
  
  Moreover, Hades to admit he hadn't found all the main candidates the Coalition wanted to break out.
  
  It didn't matter much, in the end.
  
  Even if he had found all the mortal shades and the bastards that were preparing to side with Prometheus and the others, as long as Eris' divine accomplice was here, waiting for his hour, the plan was going to go ahead.
  
  And Eris had had an accomplice, this much he had known since he found and destroyed the first couple of Discordant Artefacts.
  
  Neither his three wives nor himself had invited the treacherous and unlikeable daughter of Zeus in many decades.
  
  Hades liked his realm as calm and peaceful as he could possibly make it, thank you very much.
  
  Inviting Eris in your Domain was a near-certitude of getting several years of...possible civil war, among other things.
  
  Eris had not been invited.
  
  This left a traitor within his own ranks.
  
  As Hades advanced towards the Labyrinth Gate - and by Tartarus and Nyx, it was the last time anyone was going to use it - the traitor revealed himself.
  
  It was very much the one his suspicions had been converging in the last minutes.
  
  "Thanatos."
  
  The God of Death had chosen a beautiful appearance today, as if to relish in the villainy of his fell deeds.
  
  With the black wings of the Angel of Death, a very convincing copy of Adonis had been chosen.
  
  His black tunic was tailored in a way that let his muscular stature be admired by all his male and female worshippers.
  
  "Father," came the mocking response.
  
  "Am I?" the Lord of Hell answered laconically. "Here I thought I encouraged all my children to be honest with me, to respect their oaths...to enforce the values of the House of Hades."
  
  This was not as much as a disappointment as him analysing his failure. The duties of Thanatos as the Reaper of Souls had forced him to spend more and more time away from the Underworld since the Treaty.
  
  With the benefit of hindsight, it was clear now that this time spent on the mortal world had not just been used to charm a few mortal women or test some new food invented by first-class cooks.
  
  "How long?"
  
  "Very recently."
  
  The eldest son of Rhea scowled.
  
  "If you intend to lie with every single breath you take, I don't think there is more reason to waste time here."
  
  "Amusing words, from a God who hasn't the guts to kill his usurper of a daughter," the divine son he had sired with Nyx hissed venomously.
  
  There had been a doubt in his mind whether as the God of Death had decided to walk on the path of betrayal when Bianca managed to imprison him temporarily.
  
  This doubt was firmly crushed now. The decision to betray had come before.
  
  Many years before the Lightning Thief affair.
  
  "You are weak, Father. Weak and unwilling to tolerate what must be done for your House to stand strong."
  
  "Many immortals thought the same. They are no longer here to claim it."
  
  "It will be different, this time."
  
  Ah, the unchained arrogance of young immortals.
  
  Did they really believe Zeus, Poseidon and himself still ruled because there was a shortage of challengers?
  
  "Too many thrones are going to be empty soon. Your time is over." the Angel of Death gloated, trying to use his aura to slam into his defences, which failed in a pathetic manner. "Do you want to know a secret, Father? We will have a candidate to replace you soon. Did you miss it? Eris decided to give an explosive visit to the Lotus Club of London. And look at that, the other daughter you had left was living a charming life there!"
  
  All the self-control he had left - which was far less than it had been many hours ago - finally broke.
  
  Hades unleashed all his power, the fundamental will of his divine essence.
  
  In that single second, he was truly the Hell Lord, the monster which jailed the other monsters, and ruled over the different kingdoms under the surface.
  
  Thanatos had committed an unredeemable sin.
  
  He had given the Coalition the coordinates where Hazel was hidden.
  
  There was no redemption for him anymore.
  
  "What...no..."
  
  The betrayer suddenly realised he had chewed far more than he could swallow.
  
  What a pity. He was so close to the Labyrinth Gate that stopping him was close to impossible, God or not.
  
  That didn't mean Hades could not give him a last punishment.
  
  "You have decided to use your sister against me, and for this, Thanatos, you will pay. You think you deserve the privileges I gave you? You don't. You broke your promises, and you broke your word to me. Let the world see you for what you truly are! You want to be Death and the guiding hand for a new usurper? You will be Death, and you will look the part!"
  
  Thanathos plunged into the Labyrinth.
  
  As much as his treacherous son tried to copy Hermes, however, he was not quick enough to stop him from watching as the flesh of his arm became desiccated and sick.
  
  29 June 2007, the Ruin of the Aeternum Wall, New Byzantium
  
  Bianca had touched the corpse of Fimbulvetr, the ancient God-Beast of Ice. She had known how huge the damn beast was, and how much of an exploit it had been for Perseus to slay it.
  
  At the time, the former Dread Empress remembered thinking she wanted to avoid at all costs going against one at close-quarters.
  
  Nothing in the wide world had been able to convince her from changing her mind since.
  
  Today was no exception.
  
  There was something incredibly awful about waiting the beasts to leave the tunnels, but...what could they really do?
  
  The Drakons were way too far away for arrows to have a chance, and most of the ammunition stocks they had were close to empty now. The fighting against the Emus had been so ferocious there had never been any chance to save up some bullets and shells.
  
  As for magic...the daughter of Hades was tired. In this at least she was better than most other mages; they were catatonic or severely wounded.
  
  There was nothing she could do if she didn't close the range, and it was out of the question.
  
  Each Drakon that had just appeared was longer than a bus, and probably far heavier. They looked very much like evil serpents with two front legs, and naturally, their claws were covered in poison.
  
  Black of scales, with the joints separating them glowing blood red, as the power imbued in them by their Sire burned them and gave them life at the same time.
  
  And there were five of them.
  
  Five.
  
  As if the day couldn't get any worse.
  
  Furthermore, as they abandoned the tunnels for good - assuring them that yes, the tails ended with redoubtable spikes - the temperature across the battlefield began to increase unpleasantly.
  
  A summer night had never been cold - they were all sweaty and miserable for good reason - but now it was getting properly unbearable.
  
  The dying flames of Greek Fire were burning anew, but this time, the green was missing, replaced by a flamboyant and all-devouring red.
  
  The first Drakon breathed fire.
  
  It was a jet of fire, an inferno perfectly mastered, and it burned everything in its path.
  
  That it stopped several metres short of the Aeternum Gate was hinting at a demonstration of firepower, unless it was a test.
  
  "We should have kept the big bomb to kill these Drakonic beasts."
  
  "I don't even know if the beautiful Blasting Ominous Object of Mass destruction would have been able to kill them," Perseus said in a very serious voice. "These reptiles are clearly made of magical fire, and Greek Fire is, if anything, a man-made variant."
  
  "Yet they waited until you used it."
  
  The son of Poseidon stared at the battlefield, and the five beasts now slowly crawling forwards. On each side, the descendants of Python were escorted by something like five thousand Myrmekes. That wasn't counting the one hundred thousand Emus and all the other creatures rallied for the ultimate assault, of course. The daughter of Hades was pretty sure she saw a Cretan Hippopotamus being used to tow a giant siege tower, and more Clay Warriors had replaced the ones already destroyed.
  
  "This is a good point. I remain convinced we had to use it, though. If we hadn't broken for good the assault on the Aeternum Gate...the Emus would have submerged us, either here or on our right. Anyway, what is done is done. The bomb has been used, I can't go back in time to change things, and there are no other prototypes to deploy."
  
  The Empress who had been Triumphant hid a grimace.
  
  She had really hoped-
  
  No, this was unfair.
  
  Perseus had already bought them precious hours and desperate miracles during this dark night. First, the Carthaginian Hydra. All Emus had learned to be incredibly afraid of her. Secondly, the BOOM bomb, which had killed or maimed one-fifth of the entire Emu army.
  
  "Lord Jackson," yes, this was 'Queen Zenobia' intervening, "I'm not sure my scales can endure the hellish inferno the Drakons are going to direct against this gate."
  
  Oh, right, the Hydras were all suffering from massive weaknesses against all sort of cursed fire...
  
  "Yes, thank you for remind me. It is time for you to go. Legionnaires, escort Queen Zenobia the Second back to the walls of New Byzantium. Jade?"
  
  "If your next words are 'you have an Ice Drakon in you, go fight them', I am going to murder you, Jackson."
  
  The former Huntress looked hell, and her blue hair were now a mess...to say nothing of her armour, covered in black fluids and more troubling things.
  
  "That's...good to know," the son of Poseidon cleared his throat. "I was more wondering if you could freeze one, assuming we could separate it from its four brethren."
  
  "No," the Champion of Khione replied promptly. "If I was fresh and well-rested, maybe. But I am not, and each of these beasts are far too powerful. One would have to conjure a Nordic winter to give me a chance."
  
  "Bianca?"
  
  "I would require very much the blessing of the Queen of Hell, and the Underworld has been completely silent tonight." She answered completely truthfully. "I can try one big planar transfer, but if Lady Khione takes it badly, if divine retribution arrives in the middle of the incantation...the Drakons will in all likelihood be the least of your problems."
  
  Perseus Jackson sighed.
  
  "I see."
  
  Three Drakons began to radiate fire. One great roar, and they all ate the earth...before expelling it against the walls, generating a terrible magma bombardment.
  
  The Aeternum Gate held, and the nearby walls did, but only just.
  
  In some sections, where the wards had faltered, the stone was molten or incandescent.
  
  Arrows and thousands of projectiles were launched. The counter-attack of the Demigods would have slain thousands of Emus, conservatively.
  
  That was the moment the two other Drakons waited to saturate the air in flames, and most of the ammunition and lethal stuff burned without achieving anything.
  
  "That settles it. We must withdraw in good order to the walls of New Byzantium. They are intact, and the magic is far more potent. I like our chances far better there."
  
  Bianca had known it was likely coming.
  
  It didn't make it any more pleasant to have it said out loud.
  
  "What? This is scandalous!"
  
  For what was certainly the first time in hours, Perseus snickered.
  
  One must say that there was a good reason for it: the teenager who had just climbed the stairs was pristine, completely lacked any trace of blood on his armour, and generally appeared as if he had just finished showering and preparing himself for a parade.
  
  "But if it isn't the most treacherous Octavian McArthur!" the son of Poseidon welcomed the disgraced Legacy of Apollo. "What kept you away from the battlefield for so long?"
  
  "This isn't the question!" the reddened face of the backstabber - a reality confirmed by the golden pimples on his face, never to be erased - told in fact that yes, it was a good question. "You have been ordered to hold Nexus Hill and all its defences for the glory of Olympus!"
  
  "I don't think the words 'glory of Olympus' were used at any time, but-"
  
  The magma bombardment resumed, and this time, the shockwave and the heat became incredibly uncomfortable. At their feet, there were sparks of fire, and some of their clothes were beginning to catch fire.
  
  "As pleasant as it would be to exchange a few insults with you and lament about your fantastic cowardice, I haven't the time," the Lord of the Suicide Squad declared. "Go fight a Drakon if you think you can do better than us. Otherwise, run back and go bother the Satyrs. Those bastards have failed to show up on the battlefield, and I am disgusted by their actions. They say they care about Nature, but when it is time to confront the agents of the Sire of the Drakons, suddenly, all the doors are closed!"
  
  The red eye glared.
  
  "I find it typical of those souls filled with cowardice. For the record, my monologues are long, but I back them with overwhelming firepower."
  
  Octavian looked like he was ready to draw his sword, but Perseus had already one of Imperial Gold in his hands, and by his expression alone, looked ready to gut the ex-Legionnaire with it.
  
  "RETREAT!" The son of Poseidon shouted. "GENERAL RETREAT TO THE WALLS OF NEW BYZANTIUM! GENERAL RETREAT! COORDINATE WITH ALL THE OTHER SECTIONS! NO ONE IS TO BE LEFT BEHIND! PREPARE THE LAST STOCKS OF EXPLOSIVES FOR REMOTE DETONATION! RETREAT! WE MUST GO AND FIND THE SAFETY OF THE CITY'S TRUE DEFENCES!"
  
  The acknowledgements and grunts of approval came fast. All were filled with grim acceptance or something equally sour.
  
  They knew what it meant.
  
  The battle was lost, and though the order was given to prepare a one-minute-long countdown to destroy all the accesses leading to the Nexus Theatre, the Demigods knew what the withdrawal meant.
  
  Defeat.
  
  The Coalition had just won the Battle of Aeternum Gate.
  
  29 June 2007, the Caribbean Sea
  
  Piper McLean opened her eyes.
  
  Everything felt warm.
  
  The sun was a blazing star over her head, and as she groaned, and turned her head, she saw the lifeboat-
  
  Wait.
  
  What was she doing in a lifeboat?
  
  She tried-
  
  "Calm yourself," Panther was immediately there to place her hand against her chest. "We need you to see a healer already; I am not going to let you worsen your injuries."
  
  "That...bad?" the young daughter of Venus winced in pain. "Wait a minute. We were aboard...this stupidly huge super-yacht. Where it is?"
  
  "Turn your head on the right. Slowly." The former Huntress ordered.
  
  Piper obeyed, and gaped.
  
  The blue sea of the Caribbean Sea, so seducing, so perfect, had been turned into a nightmare.
  
  There was a lot of debris everywhere, most of them burning as they floated for a last time.
  
  In the distance, slowly sinking, was a white mass which had to be the prow of the yacht she had just mentioned.
  
  "What did happen?"
  
  Panther scowled.
  
  "What did happen is that unlike the Inevitable Doom, we were sure as hell unable to do anything against a Gigantes when it launched a surprise attack." The claws of the Nemean Lioness were out, proof her emotions were not fully under control. "It seems I owe Jackson a few apologies. If that's what the children of the Earth Mother are really capable of, the Suicide Squad taking so few casualties against the Bane of the Hell Lord was a minor miracle."
  
  "I didn't see anything." She had thought all this training was making her stronger.
  
  Apparently, it didn't make her strong enough to go against a foe straight from the era of the Gigantomachia.
  
  "The first spells knocked you out not long after the engine of the yacht died down. I think half of the security team perished before realising they were under attack."
  
  "Not us, though."
  
  "We are Nemean Lionesses, Piper. We can survive far more lethal incantations than the average Legionnaire. It didn't do us a lot of good here, though."
  
  "The Emperor-"
  
  "Caligula told me to grab you and race to the lifeboats. He was going to do the same for his sister."
  
  "I don't see them...anywhere..."
  
  This time, she managed to earn a roll of the eyes for her efforts.
  
  "Piper. While I don't believe myself to be a good Lieutenant or anything, I can add two and two. There were only three VIPs on this super-yacht, and the Gigantes didn't even spare you a glance while he pulverised the hull. That means he was after Caligula and Julia Drusilla, the Neo Helios and Neo Selene of the Triumvirate. He must have come here to capture them."
  
  For a moment, the girl now claiming the name of Neo Eos didn't answer...mainly because her 'faithful lieutenant' had placed a bottle of water against her lips.
  
  The drink gave her back some strength, at least. Panther didn't avoid her glare, of course.
  
  "That they were after them, I understand, but why do you think they were intending to capture them? It could be an assassination mission, for what little we know."
  
  "The methods employed," the Nemean Lioness replied simply. "After the first spells which killed the Legionnaires, there was a strong force field around the yacht, and the Gigantes threw all this cursed Mist all around. It was only several minutes later that he sank the yacht. If he really wanted to kill Caligula, he didn't need all these precautions."
  
  Indeed.
  
  The description matched far more the consequences of someone trying to ensure his prisoners wouldn't be tracked down wherever he took them after the kidnapping.
  
  "The Triumvirate needs to be warned. Assuming we gave the alert-"
  
  "All the sophisticated technology of the yacht, as well as everything we had in the lifeboat, were fried beyond any hope of repair."
  
  Piper didn't believe her ears.
  
  "How is it possible? The Triumvirate has a reputation to buy the best stuff on the divine market."
  
  "I don't know," Panther admitted. "Because while I didn't pay much attention to the stuff some of the elder Huntresses told us, I'm confident the Gigantes who attacked us was the Bane of Sorcery, the monster the Earth created to fight the mother of Lou Ellen herself."
  
  Bane of Hecate...damn, that would make it Clytius. That Gigantes had an infamous reputation, even by the standards of its brethren.
  
  Piper understood what Panther meant. Magic was a powerful tool, but the yacht of the Triumvirate had had plenty of counter-measures against that. It should have been able to raise the alarms and put up a far better fight than this one-sided humiliation.
  
  "This is a mystery, but for now, I don't think it really matters." It pained her to say it, but whatever Clytius had done to achieve it, it had succeeded. She couldn't fight anymore, and even if she did, it would be of no use, since the enemy had departed. "That was the Coalition once again, wasn't it?"
  
  "I suppose so," Panther growled. "This is definitely something those bastards would take pleasure in doing."
  
  "I...in that case, it is all the more important we are able to raise the alarm and warn the rest of the Triumvirate. How far away are we from the closest harbour?"
  
  "I think a few hours away, there's this touristic trap of the Antilles...that will allow us to contact someone friendly and you to get the healing you need."
  
  "That bad, hey?"
  
  "Piper, if you didn't have the powers of a Nemean Lioness, you would be dead. Period."
  
  29 June 2007, the ruin of the Aeternum Gate, outskirts of New Byzantium
  
  The Emu Emperor was furious.
  
  Yes, the malevolent mammals had withdrawn, allowing the Grand Emu Army to finally raise its feathery flag over what was left of the Aeternum Gate.
  
  Yes, Nexus Hill was theirs. Soon the Nexus Theatre would be too. Thousands of Myrmekes were already digging new tunnels, not trusting the ones the enemy had collapsed one hour ago.
  
  Significant losses had been inflicted upon the soft-skinned bipeds. Many turreted guns and excellent defensive positions had been conquered in brilliant tactical masterstrokes.
  
  The Emu Emperor was still furious.
  
  The victory of the Aeternum Gate, the only victory worth remembering, had been won by the Drakons.
  
  Close to one hundred thousand Emus had perished storming the giant Gate, and yet it had been the arrival of the Drakons which had been the decisive factor.
  
  Adding insult to the sullied beaks, the malevolent mammals had withdrawn in good order, with the Emu pursuit force unable to hunt them on open terrain.
  
  This meant they were now facing the true walls of New Byzantium, intact, with a defeated army knowing there was no ground to cede anymore.
  
  The Emu Emperor wasn't blind; the defenders may not have any Greek Fire left to incinerate his valiant soldiers, it wasn't going to be an easy and quick victory.
  
  Not unless-
  
  "Tell the children of Flauros that their demands are acceptable." This was of course a glaring lie, but all Emperors had to do this at one point or another of their career. "The Emu Empire will sell them what they want and two-thirds of the City's sack will go to their hoards."
  
  What use Drakons could have for treasures when their mere presence could melt precious metals? The Emperor of All Emus didn't know, and he didn't especially care.
  
  However...it was now a dire necessity to prepare for the elimination of these beasts.
  
  The Drakons couldn't be trusted, obviously.
  
  They were not Emus; this made a conflict of interests inevitable, and they, the birds destined to rule the Earth, had to strike first.
  
  "Rally the Grand Pursuit Force," he ordered his Feathery Generals. "Once the Drakons will have broken through the walls, I intend to slaughter the mammals to the last. We won't let them organise an evacuation. We won't let them catch their miserable breaths. Before they know it, our beaks will pierce their necks, our talons will tear apart their bellies! Dawn is coming, and it will be a red one!"
  
  "Your Majesty-"
  
  "Don't interrupt me!" The Emu Emperor wouldn't have expected such rude behaviour from Audacious-Talon. "Where was I? Yes! We still have two hundred thousand elite warriors to claim victory, if the will of Emu-kind burns hot in every beak and heart! The perfidious enemy has lost most of its ammunition and its commanders are all exhausted! Strike them now, and the rotten edifice will collapse! Tomorrow, I will dine in the Senate!"
  
  "I find myself in agreement with everything your Majesty said...but I was about to demand instructions concerning the enemy balloon which delivered the apocalyptic bomb. It is coming back in our direction."
  
  The Emu Emperor raised his eyes, and unfortunately, he saw that his competent subordinate was right.
  
  The balloon, no...what did the malevolent mammals call it? A Zeppelin or some such nonsense? Yes, the Balloon was making its grand return.
  
  "It is a pathetic bluff," the Sovereign of All Emus declared to his Generals. "We know by Lord Prometheus' spies they have used their heretical bombs and all superior ordnance before the Aeternum Gate fell. They do not have anything of significance to bomb us with."
  
  Though he didn't like the Pegasi riders providing escort to this abomination.
  
  "I will offer a baton of Marshal to whoever shoots it down. Lacking in offensive firepower now it may be, but this balloon has caused us too many grief. I want to dine tonight on roasted penguin. It is said to be a fine delicacy, and I want to test it myself."
  
  "Yes, your Majesty!"
  
  "Follow the Drakons. Order our Clay servants to extinguish as many fires as they can."
  
  His Emus were brave, after all, but not immune to fire.
  
  "By your command, your Majesty! Err...the Balloon seems to adopt a stationary position over the area the Drakons are going to slighter over in a minute. They are also revealing...it looks like mirrors?"
  
  "Ridiculous," another General commented. "Have they lost their minds? The children of Flauros won't be discouraged by nonsensical tricks like this one."
  
  "Is it possible they're preparing a trap for our allies?"
  
  General Prudent-Talon was of course mocked as he deserved for such an illogical assertion.
  
  "General, the Drakons are burning so fiercely right now that all the arrows and enchanted items the malevolent mammals have in their arsenal is insufficient to do more than tickling them before burning to ashes. A trap presumes they have something that will prevent them from screaming and dying when they get to fight the Drakons at sword's or spear's range. They have nothing. Their cunning is exhausted. Their soft-skinned methods will-"
  
  There was a blinding pulse of magic.
  
  There was a roar.
  
  And then from the mirrors placed under the balloon, water began to fall like a giant cascade.
  
  All laughter died in an instant.
  
  One, two, three, four, five.
  
  Five giant mirrors, now transformed into five giant gates, from which were coming immense quantities of water.
  
  Five floods for five Drakons.
  
  The fire-imbued servants of Python did not have time to avoid the blow, which was to be considerable, for the balloon was placed incredibly high, out of range from any weapon the Emu currently had at their disposal.
  
  The Drakonic screams were heard across the entirety of New York.
  
  Water should have evaporated and limited only to some minor steam effect, but there was so much water!
  
  It seemed like the mammals had linked their portals to a lake or a sea, and now were pumping with the energy of malevolence their vile species was renowned for.
  
  It worked.
  
  None of the Drakons died, but their fire lessened.
  
  Their movements were getting slower, more cumbersome.
  
  The inferno they had cloaked them into was abruptly banished.
  
  The advance from the Aeternum Gate faltered, as one Drakon outright decided to turn back and abandon the crawling-march.
  
  "NO!" Victory was not going to be denied to them. "You! Go to the Rabbit Cages, we will see the Drakons hear reason, or as the Ancestors of All Birds are my witness, I will flay the carcasses of those Drakons!"
  
  The flow of water continued to demolish his plans. The ground was transforming everything into a swamp. The Drakons were doused in water, immobile, and refusing to storm the walls.
  
  The penguins were laughing.
  
  The penguins were laughing! At him! At his brilliant strategies!
  
  This couldn't be tolerated!
  
  This wouldn't be tolerated!
  
  This-
  
  Dark clouds rumbled, and suddenly a figure jumped over the walls.
  
  The Emu Emperor opened his beak. This was idiocy at its finest.
  
  Thunder echoed, and lightning descended.
  
  A hundred bolts coalesced into a giant spear, and one second later, it slammed into the smallest of the children of Flauros.
  
  The Drakon had its skull impaled by this weapon of elemental nature, and it immediately fell on its flank.
  
  Dead.
  
  The ranks wavered.
  
  There was no other word for it.
  
  Watching one of the greatest monsters of this army be killed in a single blow...doubt seized the hearts of his soldiers.
  
  Five heartbeats later, the water falling from the portals became stalactites of ice, and over a dozen of them descended upon a second Drakon, piercing its scales, bringing the incandescent blood in contact with frozen weapons.
  
  "NO! NO! THIS ATTACK WILL NOT BE STOPPED OR DELAYED! YOU WILL NOT DEPRIVE US OF OUR DESTINY, MALEVOLENT MAMMALS! THE WORLD BELONGS TO THE EMUS! OUR EMPIRE WILL LAST FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS!"
  
  The Emu Emperor donned his grand helmet and pointed its rocket-launcher at the enemy.
  
  All his subjects understood what he wanted of them.
  
  "BANZAI! FOR THE EMPEROR!"
  
  29 June 2007, deep inside 'Nexus Hill', New Byzantium
  
  There was a significant amount of pleasure to be enjoyed when you froze tons of water. The fact Jade was using the ice resulting from it to choke to death all the Magma Drakons that had dared marching against New Byzantium was just a nice perspective.
  
  "Truly Thalia is the greatest Lacusomancer of our age," the Lord of the Suicide Squad proclaimed...earning a huff from Annabeth in the process.
  
  "I repeat again this word doesn't exist, and even if it did, it insults the language we're using to speak." Annabeth huffed.
  
  "An insult to original things is half of the reason I'm doing things these days," Perseus countered with a grin, right as the fifth and last Drakon held its last breath.
  
  "I don't even know why I'm dating you..." the daughter of Athena grumbled.
  
  "Dating? I had the impression we had been getting a bit closer than that..."
  
  "You're incorrigible. What now?"
  
  "Now?"
  
  "BANZAI! BANZAI!"
  
  There were things more impressive in life than more than two hundred thousand Emus gathering for a formidable charge upon the graveyard of reptiles and ambitions.
  
  Most of those things were the prerogatives of Gods, though.
  
  "Now we're going to let Rico and Kowalski keep the airship floating over this battlefield and deliver as many tons of ice as they can upon the Stymphalian Emu's heads. Meanwhile, we stop this sally and man the walls."
  
  Him standing in front of the walls of New Byzantium and slaughtering thousands of monsters truly sounded extremely heroic.
  
  It also had a high chance of getting him killed.
  
  They had killed a lot of Emus, yes, both due to his plans and the last stratagem imagined by the Black Queen.
  
  'A lot of Emus', however, just meant 'three-fifths of their entire army', and that in turn indicated there was two-fifths of it left.
  
  A human army given a path of retreat would likely have disengaged by now.
  
  The Emus were not humans who had been on the receiving end of a divine curse.
  
  "Thalia! We retreat! Rico! Your role is now to make sure all the water you're bombarding the battlefield is striking the greatest concentration of Emus!"
  
  "On it, Boss!" the penguin cackled like a maniac. "Water Kaboom!"
  
  One gust of wind, and the daughter of Zeus was by his side.
  
  "I think we can shatter them here and now." The girl who had received the soul of Catherine Foundling grunted, eyes sparkling with lightning.
  
  "We may, but Demigods are a very finite resource, and I can't replace them by clicking my fingers. Furthermore, I don't see most of the Myrmekes anymore. If we push immediately towards Nexus Hill, there is a good chance we're going to know firsthand where they've gone...the hard way."
  
  "That's true...but I'm telling you, Tyrant, we're missing an opportunity here."
  
  "Give me ten thousand soldiers to reinforce our exhausted troops and we will speak." Most of the Legionnaires of the Fulminata had fought all night, a last offensive was going to see them collapse in exhaustion, victory or not. "Until then-"
  
  Dawn came.
  
  The horizon eastwards burned red, and a clamour came from the wall to deafen the battle-cries of the Emus.
  
  And the west answered their call.
  
  Slowly at first, but more and more powerfully as the seconds passed, clarions and horns resonated in the valley.
  
  The third and last Legion of New Constantinople had finally arrived to take the enemy from behind.
  
  More and more horns engulfed the world with their melodies.
  
  The Emu Army - a mass of two hundred thousand metallic beaks - stopped, proving once more the good tactical wisdom that nothing was as mentally vulnerable as a cavalry force about to charge.
  
  Plenty of those horns weren't coming from the Legions defending New Byzantium, they were-
  
  "Jackson! Jackson!"
  
  "No need to shout that loud, I'm listening, Ethan."
  
  "The Satyrs and the Huntresses are here! All of them!"
  
  Some part of him wanted to facepalm.
  
  Tyrant or not, the son of Poseidon felt he could be forgiven for wanting to strangle Nightshade, Grover, and every single member of their cults.
  
  His self-control reasserted itself almost automatically.
  
  These imbeciles were incredibly late, but they were here at last.
  
  It changed everything.
  
  "Forget my previous orders." Perseus stopped freezing the water falling from the aerial portals. Instead, he shaped tons of liquid into a giant hand, and used it like a hammer, with the Emus taking the role of the anvil.
  
  The squelching sound and the sight of a thousand monsters pulverised in a single attack was eminently satisfying.
  
  "LEGIONNAIRES! QUESTERS! FOR TOO LONG WE HAVE STAYED ON THE DEFENSIVE! FOR TOO LONG WE HAVE BEEN FORCED TO WATCH THOSE UGLY TURKEYS RAVAGE THE VALLEY! NOW IS THE TIME FOR RETRIBUTION! VENGEANCE!"
  
  "VENGEANCE!"
  
  "BANZAI!"
  
  The Emus tried to resume their charge.
  
  The conjuration of a scythe of lightning when everything was already wet put an end to this before it could truly gain any momentum.
  
  "Remember to kill all those wearing the samurai helmets; I don't want to fight another Emu army as disciplined as this one ever again."
  
  The more they killed today, the fewer the Coalition would be able to save for their sickening purposes.
  
  "CHARGE!"
  
  They threw everything they had against the enemy, and as sunlight returned to announce a new morning, the monstrous horde finally broke.
  
  29 June 2007, the City of the Titan's Games, the Garden of the Hesperides
  
  Time stopped acting against its true nature and moved.
  
  Apollo did the same.
  
  It was a very good thing he did, for the next thing he saw were twin blades slashing at the position he had just left.
  
  His anger rose, though.
  
  He knew those swords.
  
  "Phobos," the God of the Sun snarled. Instincts honed over the millennia warned him worse was coming; Apollo jumped rather than throwing every insult he had learned over the last decades.
  
  His instincts were right. Moving again saved him from a giant axe trying to sever him in two.
  
  "I'm here too!" laughed the owner of this over-compensating weapon. The brute looked like a blue-haired punk in leather garbage which hadn't washed for the last three months, and smelled just as bad.
  
  "Hello, Deimos," Apollo said scornfully as his arm turned into a thousand lasers. "Goodbye, Deimos."
  
  The treacherous son of Ares stopped laughing, and tried to evade.
  
  He wasn't fast enough.
  
  The God of Terror screamed when his Power hit him in the chest, and soon his imprecations were genuine and to the point. Phobos rushed to his brother's side, but all it achieved was plunging his head into a trap containing a fraction of the Sun.
  
  Apollo didn't release his efforts. They were Gods out there and-
  
  DANGER!
  
  Apollo turned into light once more.
  
  Despite this last move, the sheer strength behind the blow sent him flying.
  
  It hurt.
  
  It hurt a lot.
  
  The son of Leto clenched his jaw, and landed as best as he could.
  
  A few sun rays and two arrows hit Phobos and Deimos, but they were afterthoughts.
  
  They had to be afterthoughts, now that the Titan had revealed his presence.
  
  There was no need for presentations. He had never seen this colossal reptilian juggernaut, but the sense of overwhelming danger it released meant it could only be one being, here, in the heart of the Garden.
  
  "Atlas," the Titan of Endurance was free. Blood of Olympus, why had it gone unnoticed?
  
  "Runt," the former General of Kronos answered.
  
  This was the kind of situation common sense insisted he fled from immediately. Unfortunately, Time might not be frozen anymore, but Apollo wasn't able to sense any exit from the Garden. It was completely cut off from the wide world, likely until the next Sunset. Even Python had to follow the Ancient Laws.
  
  Speaking of his arch-foe...the God of Music and Archery couldn't sense the snake anymore. The Sire of the Drakons had vanished, and so had Artemis and Britomartis. Had they pursued the Great Serpent?
  
  If so, he had to come to their rescue...pursuing Python where he wanted to fight you was an idea not many beings lived to regret.
  
  Well, all of those thoughts were taken and then banished in a fraction of a second.
  
  For anything else to be relevant, he had to beat Atlas.
  
  That wasn't going to be easy, not when a horde of monsters was already surrounding him to give support to the Titan of Endurance.
  
  "Are you going to flee like the worms I crushed when they dared come here making demands of me?"
  
  "No," Apollo cast aside his trappings, and embraced his divine form.
  
  The monsters which had come too close were incinerated in an instant.
  
  The black stones of the City melted under his glare.
  
  The Garden of the Hesperides had been a bit too used to Sunset.
  
  It was now time for the Sun to rise.
  
  "Good."
  
  Someone tried to hurl a spear of pain at him from the distance. Another Titan, no doubt. The General of the Titans didn't intend to fight fair...how unsurprising.
  
  And Phobos and Deimos were standing once more, though on shaky legs.
  
  Apollo conjured his Bow, a Sun Arrow already prepared.
  
  "Let us begin."
  
  The clash of immortals pulverised all their surroundings in a couple of seconds.
  
  Apollo, to be honest, didn't really care.
  
  What he was entirely focused was to stay as far away as possible from Atlas and his devastating shock-blows. As ridiculous as he had found some tales of the Titanomachy, there was a point Uncle Hades and his Father had agreed upon: one should never get in a fist fight with Atlas if there was any other choice.
  
  Since Apollo was the God of Archery, this was doubly true for him.
  
  "Are you going to keep this little dance forever, runt?"
  
  This had been an attempt to enrage him, though it was a poor one. However-
  
  Apollo was a finger away from being trapped into a giant web.
  
  Where did it come from?
  
  Where?
  
  It took a lot of the Sun to burn the web, and all his speed to avoid the giant arachnid monster falling from the position where it had been hidden.
  
  "Arachne," Athena had sometimes mentioned the daughter of Prometheus was able to show some human parts to the world, but it wasn't the case here. The First of the Spiders was as tall as a Minotaur, and longer than a middle-sized Dragon. "Do you really intend to add hundreds of foes until I can't keep up?"
  
  There was no answer from Atlas, which hinted the answer may very well be a 'yes'.
  
  If it was Python's plan, it had good chances of working.
  
  Apollo grimaced...and then he stopped holding back.
  
  His arrows shone like stars, and they crippled Phobos and Deimos as they threw themselves against him. One more second, he was impaling Arachne with a Sword of Plagues, while singing a melody to convince her spider's web to fall apart.
  
  That left Atlas.
  
  Atlas, general of the Titans.
  
  Apollo became Phoebus Apollo. He was the Shining One. He was the Sun, the Sun with the Music, the Sun which threw its Implacable Arrows.
  
  He was the Poetry of the Light, the Archer of the Gods.
  
  Apollo attacked.
  
  Atlas retaliated.
  
  It felt like they were two mountains of divine power trying to destroy each other.
  
  The world began to die around them.
  
  Structures bigger than his Olympian Palace were pulverised and thrown around stone by stone.
  
  The fires burned everything, the Sun against something completely opposed to it.
  
  Atlas' fist tore into his chest.
  
  Apollo cut out an eye from him with his bare hands.
  
  He couldn't lose.
  
  He couldn't afford to lose, he had to warn Olympus, if Python was capable of this, what else could the Serpent do?
  
  The fight was incredibly close.
  
  All the subtlety had been thrown out of the window.
  
  The monsters kept coming, but their intervention was unwelcome. They burned.
  
  They were trampled.
  
  Phobos, Deimos, Arachne, and all the rest...they were either crippled or scattered across the Garden and this Dark City.
  
  Everything blurred.
  
  As every time he used too much of the Sun, memories of Helios resurfaced.
  
  Apollo struggled to not be overwhelmed by them.
  
  He needed-
  
  He needed to be better. He needed to be the true Sun.
  
  It was a relief when Atlas fell at last.
  
  One mistake...and the Titan had for the first time trembled, the cost of carrying the Sky Prison resulting in some blowback.
  
  "That was...a good fight," Atlas gurgled as he bled golden ichor from a hundred wounds. "A pity...you are...his son..."
  
  "A good fight," there was something...something primal awakened in him by this explosion of violence.
  
  This was the moment the hiss resonated.
  
  The serpentine hiss no mortal or immortal wanted to hear when one was tired.
  
  "What a touching moment," his arch-enemy commented mockingly. "I almost regret to interrupt it."
  
  "That is a lie, and we both know it."
  
  Python laughed.
  
  He laughed, and as he did, an incredibly powerful magical circle came into existence, bathing them all in purple energies, and saturating their improvised battlefield.
  
  Apollo didn't know what it was, but Atlas evidently did.
  
  "The Chains of the Fallen," the Titan cursed profusely. "Damn you, Serpent, we had an accord!"
  
  "An accord which has been broken by your defeat," his arch-foe hissed in a tone Apollo knew all too well. "Your victory would have been sufficient to give you an offer to join the Lords of the Coalition. Your defeat...will earn you a place alongside Apollo to participate in the Titan's Game!"
  
  "NO!"
  
  Strangely enough, this all-encompassing voice of suffering did not come from Phobos, Deimos, or Atlas...but from Arachne.
  
  The Spider Queen was in a lamentable state; most of her legs were gone, part of her body had melted, and two or three of her eyes had closed forever. It was kind of impressive in fact she had not been killed; monster or not, they were many Demigods who would have not resisted the first seconds of him going all-out.
  
  "I WAS PROMISED A WAY TO REMOVE THIS CURSE! I WAS PROMISED HE WOULD FINALLY STOP HIS GAME OF BETRAYALS!"
  
  Prometheus. Arachne was calling her genitor here.
  
  The Titan of Crafty Counsel, obviously, failed to answer the desperate, maddened cry.
  
  "Hmm...I suppose the accord is going to be respected, in a way." Python declared. "Your force of will makes you a particular strong candidate for the Titan's Game too."
  
  "I HATE YOU!"
  
  Apollo tried to use the distraction to cut through all the magic and escape.
  
  With the levels of Mist and Magic swirling over, staying here did not make any sense, and as incredible the pressure on his divine essence was-
  
  Overwhelming power and magic blasted him apart.
  
  Apollo felt himself hitting the burning battlefield face-first.
  
  And then everything became dark.
  
  29 June 2007, above the Nexus Theatre, the City of the Titan's Games
  
  One poet one day had tried to convince him that there were never any bad mornings. There were just mornings you needed some time to enjoy.
  
  Apollo wondered what the poet in question would have thought about this situation.
  
  He could easily argue that there were times staying in your bed and not moving was a blessing.
  
  Not that the Coalition had offered him a bed, of course.
  
  They had bound and chained him with so many Orichalcum chains he could barely twitch the essence imbuing his fingers and legs. Seven pillars of this accursed dark marble, carved with hateful Runes, were glaring malevolently, negating his divine powers almost entirely.
  
  Without outside assistance, escaping was impossible.
  
  Since he was unable to break the golden bindings, there was nothing to do but watch the grand Theatre of ancient times that was waiting below him. For some reason, it reminded him a lot of the Grand Theatre of Orange...he had played a lot of music there, when the Romans were in the ascendant.
  
  No Grand Theatre had been built in this dreadful, fear-inducing black marble, however.
  
  No Grand Theatre was filled with such villainy either.
  
  Apollo didn't have any trouble recognising Midas in the upper part of the structure. He hadn't donkey ears for now, but the bastard was eminently recognisable; who else would wear a gaudy golden watch like the one he had on his right wrist?
  
  Others didn't need presentation either. The God of the Sun was familiar with Clytius and Mimas, Banes of Hecate and Hephaestus, respectively.
  
  The Gigantes being here in the first place couldn't be described as anything but horrendous news.
  
  More worryingly, they were working in coordination with plenty of monsters and humans everywhere in the Theatre, throwing spells and weird devices everywhere, creating something...something unnatural.
  
  It could have been the worst news of the day.
  
  It really wasn't.
  
  Inside the space where actors would have amazed the public with their performance, stood three beings which were easy to put a name with.
  
  Eris. Triton. Thanatos. The latter looked like a corpse under his black robe, but it was him for sure.
  
  Suddenly, the reason why the Coalition had avoided being found out before it was too late had an awful climax.
  
  It was difficult to find out the locations where your enemy hid if several of their highest-ranked leaders were hidden among your ranks to begin with.
  
  He was trying to evaluate if more traitors to Olympus were there when giant scales began to block his vision.
  
  "I notice you are admiring the sum of all our efforts, Apollo."
  
  The God of Music sighed. Where was his lyre when he needed it to assault the senses of a dangerous Serpent?
  
  "Have you come to gloat, Python? Congratulations, you did win this battle. You incited plenty of Gods to turn their back against their Fathers."
  
  Phobos and Deimos had been bad enough, but with Ares out of the Council, their sudden rebellion was not too much of a surprise. And they weren't that strong, or given critical information or influence.
  
  The same couldn't be said for the others. The Heir to Poseidon, and two highly powerful figures of Olympus and the Underworld. What a catastrophe...
  
  "Oh, don't give me too much credit, Apollo. While I can't deny I hissed a whisper or two, they were already very angry at Zeus. When one King has too many children, favouring a few over the others is inevitably going to lead to discontent in the heads of those who are not favoured."
  
  The most distasteful part of it...was that his arch-enemy had no real reason to lie about it. Sure, the Sire of the Drakons could lie. What would be the point, though? The betrayal of Death and the others must have been noticed by now.
  
  "But where were my manners? Watch attentively, Apollo, something truly unique is going to be attempted."
  
  It wasn't like he could do anything else, apart from closing his eyes, right?
  
  As their conversation took place, the humans and the monsters who had been working in the lower sections began to walk out quickly.
  
  They left behind some kind of great rose window decoration carved into the stone. And the traitors, of course.
  
  While the two Gigantes were gone, Eris, Triton, and Thanatos were still there, waiting at the periphery of the circle.
  
  They didn't stay alone for long. Soon enough, giant creatures of metal - they had been given a reptilian look, but these were very much the Coalition's answer to the Colchisian Bulls - made their grand entrance via several tunnels.
  
  They were covered in chains...it did not take long to realise why.
  
  The automatons were dragging several Demigods behind them.
  
  There were four of them, and Apollo recognised three.
  
  Aurelian and Helen Clive. How could you forget them? In a single Great Quest, they had tried to plunder half of India, and nine-tenths of the Asian Gods and Goddesses having any influence east of the Indus had wanted their head on spikes, to be exhibited on top of their palaces for the last centuries. Zeus had had to imprison them in the Lotus Club, otherwise they would have been murdered sooner or later.
  
  Or in the case of Helen, maybe a fate worse than death. The girl had inherited a small fraction of the beauty her famous predecessor had.
  
  All in all, his mortal half-siblings were also notable in that Aurelian, the eldest, had been conceived by the King in his Zeus persona, while Helen was the daughter of Jupiter.
  
  Charybdis, daughter of the Seas. Or Aspen, that was the name she had taken now that she had lost both her monstrous appearance and her immortality, wasn't it? The former Demigoddess who wanted to sink one or two continents and build up an Empire of the Seas which would soon turn those of above the surface into second-rate kingdoms.
  
  No need to ask why Triton's betrayal had been needed; they wouldn't have been able to storm Atlantis without a massive siege otherwise.
  
  As for the last one...the Demigoddess was clearly pale-skinned and black-haired. All traits associated with the House of Hades-Pluto. Even if the signs hadn't been there, the things dragging them towards Eris, Triton, and Thanatos would have made their lineage obvious.
  
  To sum up, one powerful Demigod, three powerful Demigoddesses. All of them present here against their will...and in addition to the chains, they had been gagged, collared, and put blindfold over their eyes. In case Apollo had forgotten, the chains were of Orichalcum too.
  
  The Coalition really wasn't taking any chances.
  
  "I hope you're prepared to pay for a lot of funerals," Apollo spoke conversationally. "Poseidon alone is going to kill you for having the audacity of kidnapping his precious daughter."
  
  There were children the King of Atlantis didn't care much about. But Charybdis...Aspen? No, he loved that one.
  
  In fact, Triton was in all likelihood going to die in an extremely painful way for what he had done.
  
  "The wrath of the Lord of Earthquakes has been predicted. We will deal with it in due time."
  
  Knifes were drawn.
  
  The four Demigods and Demigoddesses perhaps felt something bad was going to happen. But given how little they could struggle, it was doomed from the start.
  
  With a lack of hesitation that made him scowl, each immortal cut the hands of his half-sibling, letting blood redden the stone before them. Eris had to do it for Aurelian and Helen, though, not one like the others had.
  
  There was a flash of light.
  
  Not the light of the Sun, though.
  
  It was something far darker. It was like part of the abyss had decided to rise once again.
  
  The entire theatre shook.
  
  Then in a synchronisation which had to have been repeated several times before today, Eris, Triton and Thanatos cut their own palms too.
  
  Ichor flowed.
  
  The red of the mortal and the gold of the immortal went on to merge and form some kind of viscous substance, which seemed to corrode the...
  
  "By the bones of all Oracles future and past, this was a Seal."
  
  A gigantic hammer - no doubt forged by Mimas - crashed into what had become a bloodied altar a second later.
  
  It felt like a thousand windows were blown apart at once.
  
  Obliterated. Gone without the possibility of repairing it.
  
  There was not a single splinter of glass, though.
  
  And no one was really hurt by it.
  
  The Demigods had had bandages and healing medicine placed to mend the wounds on their hands.
  
  For a few seconds, Apollo dared to hope the Coalition had screwed up. That whatever monstrous goal they worked towards, it had been an epic failure.
  
  It died in the next seconds.
  
  The Theatre Nexus seemed to grow in size...no, it was really becoming larger, gaining height and size, with the seats of the spectators changing to accommodate monsters posteriors and inhuman bodies.
  
  The aura of bloodthirstiness increased twice. It was no longer a ram to make you disgusted; it was a siren's song to seduce you into committing your darkest and most violent ideas.
  
  And at the centre of it, in the very circle of stone that Eris, Triton, and Thanatos had been careful to not step into...a grand seat of black marble had appeared.
  
  No, not a grand seat. A Throne.
  
  "Zeus was certainly cunning, for this one," Python interrupted his thoughts again. "Everyone would try to use his children as sacrifice fodder. That was what Prometheus tried at Pompei, did you know? It couldn't work. The three brothers were special, and the King of the Gods even more so, for all his exploits. We needed both mortals and immortals born from his seed and those of his brothers. The symbolism had to be incredibly powerful to have a chance to work. Well, it is done. There is nothing in the way preventing a Titan's Game from officially starting."
  
  "You are truly a despicable creature!"
  
  "Thank you, Apollo, I appreciate the compliment coming from you. But where are my manners? I'm sure you're dying to see to see the Nexus Theatre close now!"
  
  Immense machines flashed into existence.
  
  A large ramp came through, separating seats which had been next to each other seconds ago.
  
  Much like everything which had been done under his eyes before, the Coalition was not relying on luck.
  
  Moving a God from Point S to Point R was a complicated affair. Python and all the others had come prepared, though.
  
  He was going to resist, though.
  
  Even if he found himself in the position of a pig about to be sacrificed upon the altars, the God of Music had his pride...and who knows, it always possible the Coalition had missed a detail, some kind of weakness which would allow him to crack one chain.
  
  If he repeated it enough times, he may even believe it.
  
  Apollo had no need to force himself to glare when he saw the man directing the efforts to link some of his chains to the theatre's machinery.
  
  Despite the rejuvenated appearance - or perhaps because of it - it was easy to recognise the Roman.
  
  It was a soul Apollo had been thoroughly unable to find a slightest good quality within, and he saw plenty of good in several Emperors' behaviour.
  
  "Lucius Cornelius Sulla," just speaking the name alone felt impure. "I should have known."
  
  The Butcher of the Republic - he deserved far more the title than all the Pompeius Magnus in the world - merely laughed, before departing.
  
  It would have been great if it meant there was no supervision...unfortunately, Python stayed.
  
  "Stop this haughty and so righteous expression, Apollo..." The Great Serpent hissed. "You are no better than us, in the end."
  
  "You can believe it in your delusions," the Olympian retorted, "but personally, I believe I am far better than Sulla."
  
  The faithful lieutenants of the man had refused to defend his legacy, be it military or political. When some of the worst war criminals of the dying Republic thought you had gone too far, there was truly something wrong with you.
  
  "Ah. But are you far better than Commodus?"
  
  That was the kind of low blow Apollo had expected from the start. Fortunately, he had kind of anticipated it...it wasn't like his other siblings had pestered him about it, right? Oh, wait.
  
  "My relationship with Commodus was a mistake in practically every front. My responsibility in it is immense. And this is why I had to give it a permanent end."
  
  Something that he had never been able to forget. People often thought eidetic immortal memory was a boon. It could be a real curse too.
  
  "Is it your vengeance, Python? Are you still seething of the way I was able to beat you?"
  
  "I have grown beyond the need for vengeance," the Sire of the Drakons arrogantly replied. "In your case, at least. I can't say the same about your sister."
  
  The malevolence in the last words frightened him.
  
  Apollo had almost thought Arty not being seen anywhere had been a sign she had managed to escape the Garden in time, and was now rallying the rest of the Olympians for a rescue operation.
  
  "My sister never did anything to you!"
  
  "If by 'anything' you mean she killed my mate, after having sworn on the Earth Mother to spare her and her eggs, I suppose she indeed didn't do anything."
  
  Apollo stared, mouth open, mind temporarily stunned.
  
  Surely his ears had completely tricked him. Surely-
  
  "Oh. She didn't ever mention it? Hiss..."
  
  "Artemis descended into the Pit of Delphi in order to save our mother! Our mother you had kidnapped!"
  
  "Indeed, and my beautiful mate, despite knowing the disasters it would cause, agree to teach your sister a secret ritual to free Leto. Of course, it was all in vain. The ritual had a lot of Innocence behind it. And the Earth...the Earth didn't like at all that your sister didn't respect her side of the bargain."
  
  Apollo wanted to believe all of it was a lie. The Pit knew the Great Serpent was not shy of delivering falsehoods and incomplete 'truths' when manipulating immortals and mortals.
  
  But this time...this time it could be all too easily verified.
  
  And quite a few things made sense in hindsight.
  
  How their mother had faded so quickly, refusing to stay with the living, instead choosing an awful life in the realm of the dead.
  
  How Artemis had been willing to desecrate all corpses of Drakons once the battle was over...
  
  "It didn't take me long to capture her," Python gloated at last. "The broken oath makes her easy prey for any divine Drakon, and I am the mightiest of my kind left."
  
  "I will kill you, Python."
  
  His arch-foe only laughed, and then a sign of his forked tongue served as a silent command for all the servants of the Coalition to begin their work.
  
  Betrayal hurts.
  
  And this is normal.
  
  If it didn't, it wouldn't be called 'Betrayal' after all.
  
  In the end, this and overwhelming force did all the difference.
  
  Not crazy preparations.
  
  Not the power of Friendship.
  
  Not attempts to divine the future.
  
  You could find glory, but treachery led you to an early grave.
  
  You could hunt the monsters in their lairs, but a sword in the dark could make you the hunted.
  
  Demigods were and still are mortals, in the end. Reading the thoughts of those nearby was never a gift they ever did receive, assuming their parents did gain it at some point.
  
  The enemy refused to show its intentions early.
  
  There were no clues.
  
  There was only the Nexus Theatre.
  
  The Nexus Theatre, and the City of the Titan's Games.
  
  The former was moved again in the heart of the latter.
  
  And the latter generated a special Mist, one which was believed to keep anyone from interfering further into the abominable ceremony about to take place.
  
  The Opening of the Titan's Game could begin, after millennia of oblivion.
  
  30 June 2007, the Nexus Theatre, City of the Titan's Games
  
  In reality, it wasn't much different from the giant Coliseum that Commodus had built as a monument to his own vanity.
  
  Yes, yes.
  
  Apollo was very aware this was a Theatre. And the continuous expansion of that damned piece of nefariousness was not done by the Coalition proper.
  
  It was just the cursed architecture growing back to its real size.
  
  Still, it felt the same.
  
  For a place where you were supposed to organise plays and nice musical concerts, the air reeked way too much of bloodthirstiness.
  
  Bloodthirstiness and the Mist.
  
  No, not the Mist like Hecate wielded.
  
  Apollo had felt the one the Titaness of Magic poured into her creations, and it was not that. It was...close, but different. Very different. If using a food metaphor, the God of Music would say it was like pepper and saffron: the two were spices, but no one would mistake one for the other after having both on the tongue.
  
  Where was he going with...ah, yes.
  
  There was Mist everywhere. Most of the time, it was acting like a mass of living shadows; at others, it was just pungent smoke. 'Just', bah! There were terrifying things dancing in this smoke, visions of murder, debauchery and monstrous savagery.
  
  Apollo tried to think about something else, anything else.
  
  Unfortunately, looking in the direction of the spectators was not providing a lot of help in that regard.
  
  The lower seats should have been reserved to the privileged souls, in a normal theatre.
  
  Today, they were reserved, all right, but for an entirely different category.
  
  The prisoners.
  
  Any other time, the four Demigods who had been forced to participate in this odious ritual would have been the 'big prize' the Coalition paraded all around.
  
  Today they were not: that honour belonged to the giant wolf-Goddess muzzled and chained.
  
  Apollo swore on his immortality; he really didn't know how the hell the Coalition had managed to capture Lupa.
  
  That was not good news, though. He had thought the battles had been limited to the Garden of Hesperides, but it clearly wasn't.
  
  If Lupa wasn't sufficient as a piece of evidence, there were many, many bloodied Demigods, Greek and Roman ones, gaggled and bound next to her.
  
  Over two dozen in total. Not one of them was particularly notable, and despite the blood, the scars, and the fluids, he didn't think any were his children.
  
  It was still very bad. A battle had happened recently, and clearly, the Demigods had suffered.
  
  Those were not the only 'remarkable prisoners', of course.
  
  Apollo wasn't seeing Atlas or Arachne among the prisoners, but Phobos and Deimos were here among the vanquished, their treason rewarded like the brutes deserved.
  
  Amusingly, they were muzzled like Lupa was. Had they tried to transform into some species of super-canines?
  
  The last immortal to be present almost destroyed his hopes.
  
  Britomartis was here, chained and defeated.
  
  The favourite Huntress of his sister looked like she had received a massive beating, and just like that, Apollo knew no one had managed to escape. Olympus must be aware something incredibly bad had happened right now, but they didn't know the details.
  
  In all likelihood, there wasn't going to be a rescue.
  
  "Welcome! Welcome, my friends! For the first time in millennia, I am proud to say that thanks to the extraordinary efforts of our Coalition, a Titan's Game is once again going to begin on the Winter Solstice!"
  
  Many monsters roared. The humans applauded politely.
  
  Apollo merely glared at the upper seats of the Theatre.
  
  For all the Mist which was created, there was no way to mistake the beings taking the shadowy Thrones on top of the structure.
  
  Python was the first, of course, though it was more a sort of pool where its giant head rested. His arch-enemy was so big, that even with the Nexus Theatre getting bigger and bigger, most of its length was still circling over the upper levels, proof of his Kaiju-like size.
  
  The spokesman, of course, was Prometheus. The Titan of Forethought had not changed at all since the Adjudicator Games. Same tuxedo, same glasses; if Perseus Jackson and the penguins had inflicted him more scars to coexist with those the giant eagle did on his face, he hid it well.
  
  Midas was there too. When their eyes met, the Gold-Touching King glared back. Yep, the bastard remembered the affair of the donkey ears, all right.
  
  The temptation to smile was great, but the presence of the other Lords of the Coalition did strangle that idea in his thoughts.
  
  It was a very, very nasty group that had been mustered here.
  
  Thanatos, God of Death, better known in some cultures as the Reaper of Souls. He was hiding under a black cloak, but the hands show how cadaveric his skin had become.
  
  Triton, Heir to the Seas. The twice-tailed merman seemed to have become as pleasant as a piece of granite lately.
  
  Eris, Goddess of Discord...and known as Discordia by the Romans. If Thanatos and Triton stayed silent and unflinching, the daughter of Zeus wasn't. In fact, dressed like a punk, she looked like she was...partying? She certainly had a cup of wine in her left hand, to be sure. And...oh, Sweet Nectar, was it a Golden Apple in her right?
  
  Clytius, self-proclaimed Bane of Hecate. A giant figure merging monster and nightmarish sorcery. Just looking at it was irritating his eyes. The Gigantes was towering over the mortal mercenaries of the Coalition like a pillar of terror and nightmares.
  
  Mimas, self-proclaimed Bane of Hephaestus. The second Gigantes was completely unexpected, but his presence made sadly sense. The monster was also known as the Breaker of Plans; in his presence, machines broke, electronics fizzled and died, and mortal machinery failed or rampaged out of control. You knew those tales where machines turned against their creators? They were not tales, and Mimas was responsible for these crimes, and many others.
  
  Sulla. Or Lucius Cornelius Sulla, if you wanted to be formal. Roman. Consul. General. Butcher. First Dictator of the new model, which he created himself in order to give himself full and unlimited powers over the Senate. One of the men who, in all justice, should be known for having killed the Roman Republic. First to have marched upon Rome with the Legions at his back.
  
  If you thought Julius Caesar had invented something...Apollo could reassure you: he did not. Sulla had done it first. And unlike the famous victor of the Gallic Wars, Sulla had even been capable to die in his bed, after eliminating all his enemies.
  
  That was for all the beings the God of Poetry did recognise.
  
  Nine very unpleasant beings, for nine awful Thrones.
  
  The tenth was occupied too, but though Apollo could tell it was a woman, it was difficult to say anything else about her. She had blonde hair, and...and that was pretty much all. A modified nun robe and a mask hid everything else.
  
  In many ways, this was strange. Apollo was a prisoner, and as much as he would not complain if someone freed him, the chances of he or someone loyal getting away was incredibly slim.
  
  Why bother hiding? It wasn't like the others were shy about their identities now...
  
  Though if the tenth Throne-holder raised many questions, the eleventh and the twelfth were far more mysterious, if it was possible.
  
  They were empty.
  
  Empty, but not unclaimed.
  
  The Mist was trying to come closer to them, but each time, an invisible force-field repelled it.
  
  "But let's begin, like the ancient demands custom, by the traditional beginning of the Titan's Games!"
  
  The Mist shrieked.
  
  The earth rumbled.
  
  The sky seemed to cry, and soon a deluge fell over the Theatre.
  
  It didn't last long, mere seconds, but it was enough to drench him completely, as he stood chained close to the awful presence of the seat in black marble waiting one metre away.
  
  It didn't matter. The damage was done.
  
  The pressure was a burning one, one which reminded him for a moment of Helios.
  
  But it wasn't Helios.
  
  The figure which descended on the Theatre was not the noble Titan of the Sun.
  
  It was a giant prey bird of light; a vulture of raw power and unbridled Might.
  
  It was Hyperion, Lord of the Light. Father to Helios. And though few immortals even remembered it, the First Titan of the Sun.
  
  "As it is my Right," the avian head opened a cruel beak to speak, "I wager the Sun!"
  
  Apollo was now certain he wasn't going to like what followed.
  
  He was right.
  
  Lityerses had dared to hope that despite the rising evidence, the majority of the Titans were more like Prometheus, not Atlas.
  
  True, the former had just betrayed the Titan of Endurance, but for all his cunning, there was more reassurance to be found in the cunning of Crafty Counsel than in the implacable ferocity of Endurance.
  
  Those hoped pretty much died when Hyperion and Theia descended upon the Theatre.
  
  The two Titans looked like giant prey birds, the kind which fed upon pretty much every other species, humans included.
  
  They were massive, and shone like stars did.
  
  They weren't humans, and the few glances they gave to the prisoners were more what one would expect from a wolf about to grab a napkin before going after the sheep flock.
  
  Their wagers, both for the Sun and the Moon, forced them to focus on the ceremony, not the spectators.
  
  Lityerses shivered.
  
  What in the name of the Pit had they done?
  
  There was so much they didn't know-
  
  "The wagers have been accepted."
  
  Whatever Mist had been present before, it was nothing to the volume released now. The air soaked in it, making him cough, and on this he was followed by the entire Theatre.
  
  "Ruling Titans, please seat upon your Thrones."
  
  There was a stream of golden flames; immediately followed by a cascade of moonlight.
  
  When the Mist dissipated, there were two giant thrones floating about ten metres in the air, right above where Apollo was taken prisoner.
  
  And what Thrones they were! It felt like a million gemstones, the most exquisite diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and other jewels, had been placed upon those. The first looked like it was entirely made of Sun light, gold containing Sunlight turned into a liquid. The second felt even more beautiful, a dream of silvery Moonlight that had ephemeral scenes dancing and re-shaping scenes beyond what artists should be able to describe.
  
  Hyperion and Theia, Titans of Light and Splendour, flew effortlessly to them and seated themselves.
  
  Within seconds, large chains slithered around the Titans, the mass of chains growing like a carnivorous plant eager to bind its prey. But the Titans seemed...unconcerned. Clearly they had seen something like it before...maybe even participated in this strange ceremony.
  
  "Now that the Wagers have been made, I believe it is time to brand the first participants. Before the true participants can be presented, let's give some weight to the Game, shall we? A Titan's Game need proper fodder to make things more exciting!"
  
  Lityerses watched as an artefact looking like a giant black mirror rose in the lower section of the Nexus Theatre.
  
  What was this thing? His genitor had not spoke of this. It was-
  
  The blow took him by surprise.
  
  He managed to parry it nonetheless.
  
  Unfortunately, it just meant it took only a second blow to knock him out.
  
  Lityerses had just the time to curse Midas profusely before falling.
  
  He should have stayed in Hell, all right.
  
  Betrayal, however, is a cruel mistress.
  
  Once you have betrayed someone, it can be a sin the culprit will begin to enjoy.
  
  It worked so well, the first time, so why not betray someone else?
  
  Family. Friends. Subordinates. Allies.
  
  When the stakes are sufficiently high, why not betray everyone?
  
  It can work.
  
  It also means that you're left alone.
  
  30 June 2007, the Nexus Theatre, City of the Titan's Games
  
  Apollo did feel a twinge of pity for the son of Midas as the Reaper of Men fell.
  
  Only a twinge, though.
  
  Lityerses should have known his father was going to betray him. Midas always betrayed everyone. Why did everyone think he had been cursed with donkey ears? The man had been doing its best to rigging the musical contest via an elaborated system of expensive bribes when the Olympians caught him with one hand in the pot of Drachmas.
  
  No, there was little pity to be made here. And honestly, the 'betrayed' parties weren't that many. Apollo counted five for the entire Theatre. Oh, hi, Crassus. It was funny how your land investments always ended up to be afterthoughts when critical situations ended up going haywire.
  
  If these people left him in a mood of 'you should have anticipated Prometheus and the others were going to stab you in the back', it was difficult to feel the same for the significant crowd which descended in the direction of the recently opened dark portal.
  
  Many had ecstatic expressions on their faces, and Apollo had seen them before. During one of the Labours Commodus has been so proud of.
  
  This meant the 'Motivator Implants' were once again in play.
  
  It was really disgusting in the extreme.
  
  Apollo wasn't going to pretend he had never killed mortals; this would be hypocritical. But he hadn't done what Midas and the Coalition did: placing in effect a command device in their head, and forcing them to obey via a combination of extreme pleasure and atrocious pain.
  
  It clearly didn't work on immortals, and it visibly required a lot of time to be implanted - all the Demigods looking to have been recently captured were in chains and not having them - but there were hundreds of people there who were acting like they were toys unable to do anything but follow the orders of their Coalition masters.
  
  The Theatre changed again. Vast altars of stone came into existence next to the Dark Portal - which looked very much like the definition of 'Malevolent Mirror of Doom' you could find in a dictionary. Onyx and obsidian for the cadre, and instead of solid glass, a swirling liquid akin to darkness and shadow.
  
  "You are the Warriors." Prometheus continued. "You may become more, but you can't become less. You will fight and die in the Titan's Game in large numbers. You are the first; you won't be the last."
  
  The first Demigoddess reached the ground where actors were supposed to play. Apollo was willing to gamble a few Drachmas that she was a daughter of Midas...Midas and Eris. That was sick, even by Titanic standards.
  
  "The rules of the Titan's Game are strict, but fair." Fair? The Titan of Crafty Counsel had the gall to speak of fairness? "You are to take with you nothing but the body you have. And to signify your commitment, your body must be branded."
  
  If he had had this possibility, Apollo would have sent an attack as powerful as a megaton-heavy nuke in Prometheus' face. Surely they didn't-
  
  Men wearing hooded costumes as sinister as those as the executioners in medieval times approached the Demigoddess.
  
  They brandished knives.
  
  In a couple of seconds, methodical cuts made sure the black bodysuit fell to the floor.
  
  The Demigoddess' face remained blank and utterly detached from reality; quite a disturbing feeling when she was now entirely naked before the entire assembly.
  
  Without a sign she had understood the Titan had condemned her to death, the young athletic woman with Asian traits walked to the altar and placed herself on her stomach.
  
  New torturer-looking figures emerged, while flames began to burn in ritualistic cones nearby.
  
  "Your name and the wager?"
  
  "Hana, daughter of Midas and Eris," Apollo hated being right. "The Sun."
  
  The branding mark descended, and yes, from where he was, the God of the Sun could smell the burned flesh.
  
  It took mere seconds, and ultimately, the Demigoddess had a golden sun-shaped brand carved upon her right buttock.
  
  By the Pit, they were really doing it. They really behaved like the Demigods and all the mortals in existence were cattle.
  
  The daughter of Midas showed as much emotion to the branding as she had for the rest, which was none.
  
  Now that she was marked forever, the Demigoddess left the branding station for the mortal coming behind her - one more had been divested of his clothes during her branding. She walked into the Dark Portal like it was an every day's occurrence.
  
  The darkness swallowed her like she had never existed.
  
  The only sign of difference was that one onyx jewel began to burn in golden flames for some seconds, before flickering out.
  
  "Excellent! Our first Warrior has been accepted. Many others will follow, I'm sure!"
  
  Apollo looked at the ranks of spectators. Since it didn't matter clearly whether they were the involuntarily sort of participants or not for this sick experience...everyone was going to be thrown into it. Everyone. Including, he acknowledged their presence for the first time, the six Hesperides, the daughters of Atlas themselves. He guessed some of them must reconsider their allegiance choices right now...
  
  1 July 2007, the Nexus Theatre, City of the Titan's Games
  
  Triton was bored.
  
  Yes, the Branding Ceremony - there was no way to call it something else - was awful. Yes, he had gritted his teeth at the beginning.
  
  But the sayings affirming repetition had a way to make you numb was the truth.
  
  The Coalition had intended to push close to five thousand branded through the Titan's Gate, and it was long, fastidious, and barring a few exceptions, this was the same thing over and over.
  
  The majority of the exceptions, obviously, had been the deities. Since they were all able to sense they were about to lose their immortality past the mirror-like Titan's Gate, they had zero reason to cooperate, and every urge to resist for as long as they could.
  
  Since one of them was a Giant Wolf-Goddess, it had been a massive chore, despite all the preparations.
  
  But now it had been hours since the last immortal - Deimos, to name him - was gone. The beings branded right now were different sort of individuals that the Coalition had managed to convince to join the Game: mainly mercenaries and various monsters.
  
  Thus the boredom he faced.
  
  He couldn't wait for it to be over, to be honest.
  
  Right now, his mind regularly replayed him the memory of Charybdis rising from her branding - where Clytius himself had been required to immobilise her for long - the sun mark on her buttock, and hatred on her visage.
  
  "I will kill you, brother."
  
  The words had resonated for a long, long time, long past the moment she had been pushed into the darkness.
  
  It had been necessary.
  
  They didn't understand. Poseidon and Amphitrite had lost their way. They were content to wait for the farcical adventures of the Suicide Squad to continue, happy his precious half-sister was returned to them. They didn't care about Scylla. They didn't care about vengeance against Olympus. They didn't care about the future. They didn't-
  
  Triton breathed loudly.
  
  It was necessary.
  
  The Coalition was just a means to an end, and to be honest, Triton had always hated Apollo and Artemis; the so-called 'laws of Olympus', for some reason, were never enforced every time the Golden Twins of Zeus broke them.
  
  'For you, but not for me' should be the motto of those hypocrites. It was great time the odious progeny of the Olympian Tyrant was on the receiving end of the punishment it so richly deserved.
  
  "Now that we have an abundant supply of Warriors...though we can always find some more elsewhere..."
  
  "The island where we currently are, the grand battlefield of the Titan's Game, has a more than adequate population," Sulla remarked with a smile.
  
  Prometheus cleared his throat, amusement burning in his eyes.
  
  "We may find a few Warriors among the Slaves, that's true...ahem..." the Titan cleared his throat for the second time, right as a last human was pushed through the Titan's Gate. "I believe it is time, per the ancient traditions of the Game, to nominate your candidates...better known as the Fools."
  
  "Of course! But who will begin?"
  
  "I will," Midas declared, before showing an impressive expression of pure spite to the lone prisoner below them. "I nominate Apollo, son of Zeus, God of the Sun!"
  
  Unlike the previous ceremony, there was no question of placing him upon a stone altar or going through the Titan's Gate...not yet. There was a branding, however. Unlike the 'Warriors', there was no choice involved. The Sun or the Moon had already been determined beforehand.
  
  It might feel simple for the Coalition, but it wasn't.
  
  You could practically brand anyone for the Warrior part; the only concern was that they needed a soul. They could be normal mortals, they could be Demigods, they could be immortals; the City and the Nexus Theatre didn't care.
  
  For the 'Fools', it was absolutely different. They really needed candidates with the ambition and the legend, so to speak, linked to the Sun or the Moon. It didn't matter if the mortals had forgotten it, how long ago it had been, and other factors: the candidates had to be tied to the Sun or the Moon, which were the Domains wagered here.
  
  "A surprising choice, but welcome nonetheless," Prometheus joked as one of the Branders gave Apollo a souvenir he would never forget. "Next?"
  
  "I nominate Icarus, son of Daedalus," Mimas, the ugliest Lord of the Coalition, intervened. A young man, or so it seemed, came out of the tunnels. One must never believe the appearances; the being was no longer young, and he wasn't made of flesh. This was an automaton; albeit a very realistic one. "He will make a fine Fool of the Sun."
  
  Sulla laughed. This didn't reassure anyone; what the Butcher found funny, many others didn't.
  
  "I believe it is fitting I nominate one of my fellow Romans, no?" This was a very rhetorical question, for he didn't wait for anyone's retort. "Caligula. Caligula, son of Germanicus. If he wants to become Neo Helios and the Sun itself, his future does belong to the Titan's Game."
  
  Icarus had walked freely to the Throne waiting for him.
  
  They had to use several heavy automatons to do the same for Caligula. At the risk of saying what was evident, the former Emperor had not volunteered, and the beasts in the prisons had not pulled any punches in order to subdue him.
  
  "Next?"
  
  "Atalanta," Eris spoke. "Daughter of Iasos, she is the Sun Racer." Discord said nothing else, but only an imbecile would have missed the loathing flashing in Apollo's eyes.
  
  The Princess jumped out of the seats and rushed to take her place upon one of the six Thrones which had been prepared for the Fools.
  
  "Atlas," Prometheus said, and no one of the Coalition was surprised. "The Mighty Titan of Endurance, who once fought Hyperion for the Throne of the Sun, lost, and received Hell as a consolation prize."
  
  If Apollo and Caligula did give them various expressions of anger and hatred before being Branded and placed upon their respective Thrones, Atlas put them to shame by his mere presence.
  
  His presence was suffocating. A cloud of unlimited rage seemed to hover above his head in permanence, and despite being bound in every way imaginable, over a hundred assistants were necessary to drag him some fifty metres.
  
  "And I nominate Phaeton, son of Helios," Triton had been really hesitant into condemning an innocent to the Titan's Game. Ultimately, he had realised that finding an incompetent imbecile was way better for everyone.
  
  Watching as the pompous fool strutted his way to the Thrones, the former Heir of Atlantis knew it had been the right choice.
  
  "He is, of course, of the Sun, Lord Chairman."
  
  "Indeed, indeed."
  
  In ancient times, there would have been hundreds of 'Fools', but the Titans weren't siring Demi-Titans by the hundreds anymore. Kidnapping Demigods from New Byzantium had a high chance of not working, and besides, it could only work for Apollo.
  
  Furthermore, involving too many candidates was a recipe for chaos. And the Coalition's goal for this Titan's Game was a methodical clean-up, where little was left to chance.
  
  "I believe this leaves up the Fools of the Moon, then."
  
  A paper came from one of the two empty Thrones. Triton grimaced. He didn't like at all why Prometheus and Python were so eager to keep this one's identity a secret from him and several of the Lords.
  
  "Artemis, daughter of Leto, Goddess of the Moon, is nominated."
  
  Much like Atlas, Triton really, really didn't envy the automatons and the monsters which had to drag the Goddess to the second series of Thrones which was now conjured to wait on the right of the Sun Fools.
  
  Artemis looked like a fury, and she definitely played the part. Many monsters were already missing limbs or had received grave wounds...despite the fact the restraints were as heavy and burdensome as those neutralising her brother.
  
  "Narcissus," Clytius grunted. The Gigantes did not smile...assuming he was capable of it. "Son of Selene, Incarnation of Narcissism, self-proclaimed 'Better than Commodus'."
  
  The man was a vision.
  
  There was no other word.
  
  Everything in him felt...perfect.
  
  If only there wasn't an ego as big as the one Zeus boasted...
  
  Narcissus didn't salute them. He didn't even look at them. If there was a true mirror available, no doubt he would spend his time looking at his reflexion.
  
  Triton really wondered why this one had been chosen. As proved by Commodus, a tool that was also a Narcissist was too often dangerously incompetent.
  
  Oh, well. Anyway. One could only hope he would die very quickly.
  
  "Pandora," Thanatos grated in his deathly voice. "Former Champion of the Moon, Demi-Titaness, divorced wife of Epimetheus."
  
  If Narcissus was male perfection for the mortals, then the woman who arrived was broken perfection.
  
  It was like someone had created a flawless body of the most exquisite porcelain, beautiful to an unrealistic degree...and then smashed it several times. One eye was missing, leaving behind a terrible and saddening black hole.
  
  A second piece of paper flew from the second empty Throne of the Coalition.
  
  "Kallisto," Prometheus read aloud. "Former Prime Lieutenant of the Hunt, formerly known to the Moon, the Bear Not-Maiden."
  
  It was a real pleasure to see the horror in the eyes of Artemis when the girl in ranger clothes made her entrance. Outwardly, one had to note that the girl looked a lot like the appearance the Goddess of the Moon had chosen...minus the current injuries, of course.
  
  The sheer aura of murder was absolutely fabulous, to be sure. Artemis looked like she had been slapped. Hard.
  
  "Arachne," the monster masquerading as a nun announced from her Throne. "Demi-Titaness, daughter of Prometheus, greatest mortal weaver, First and Queen of the Spiders...and former Champion of Selene."
  
  "That leaves only one. My dear Sire?"
  
  "Julia Drusilla, best known as Neo Selene per her own claims," Python hissed. "Her claim to the Foolishness of the Moon is not contestable."
  
  Much like Artemis, the last two did not come quietly. It was more problematic in Arachne's case, of course; the Cursed Demi-Titaness had no intention to make things easy for them, and given the power behind her bite, there had been no real way to gag her. As a result, up and past her branding, the arachnid-looking monster was agonising them of insults. Prometheus, needless to say, was largely the principal target of them.
  
  It took over one hour to force them to sit. It was a very good thing, he mused, that the Winter Solstice deadline was so far away.
  
  "Six Fools of the Sun, wagering against Hyperion. Six Fools of the Moon, wagering against Theia. The stakes of the Titan's Game have been given. As tradition demands, I address you, King of the Titans. Is there anything you wish to impart upon us before the Gate sends them to wait for their Fate and the Game?"
  
  Triton rolled his eyes. And here came boredom again.
  
  This was the problem with all the old relics and the stuff associated with it; it had millennia of traditions behind it, and you didn't know what was important and what was not; thus you needed to stick to the script at all cost.
  
  No, Kronos was not going to whisper into their ears. The King of Titans was gone, reduced to mere morsels of scattered flesh at the very bottom of the Pit. And there was so much Mist inside and outside now that it would take a very powerful Titan to establish a communication.
  
  Of course, no one among the Coalition, chief of all Prometheus, had any willingness to see a King return that they had-
  
  KRAAASSHSSSSS! DAAAANNNNG! BOOOOOOOOOM!
  
  Part of the Nexus Theatre, massive stones enchanted and protected by countless enchantments, disappeared into an apocalyptic explosion.
  
  Something slammed into the lower stands; fortunately, all the prisoners had already been sent through the Titan's Gate, otherwise-
  
  It was...what had just happened?
  
  No, Kronos was-
  
  He couldn't be back.
  
  He just couldn't.
  
  The smoke cleared, showing a young blonde teenager, looking quite ruffled, with nothing more than a pair of shorts to protect his dignity, and a tube of bronze dangling around an old-fashioned belt.
  
  The boy looked...quite mortal.
  
  Triton turned his head...and was there to see Python's maw opening in clear bewilderment.
  
  The Sire of the Drakons was in shock.
  
  He hadn't seen it coming.
  
  "You, it isn't possible..."
  
  Sulla drew his sword.
  
  "Who is he?"
  
  The tube of bronze flew into the blonde teenager's hand. In a flash, the thunder answered. Enormous bolts of lightning chased away the Mist.
  
  One eye sparkled into a divine blue. The second burned gold.
  
  On his chest, an old brand was revealed, one of a celestial sphere and a lightning bolt descending to strike down the earth.
  
  Enough power to put two Titans to their knees slammed into them.
  
  "ZEUS! IT'S ZEUS! STOP HIM!"
  
  It does only take one mistake, doesn't it?
  
  One.
  
  And the flawless plan is now trying to not collapse from all the very real flaws which were so small yesterday.
  
  There is a hole into the web; the tapestry had been shredded; the victory is by no means certain anymore.
  
  One mistake.
  
  One.
  
  It can be enough to unravel a lifetime of preparations.
  
  It can be enough to accomplish everything.
  
  1 July 2007, the Nexus Theatre, City of the Titan's Games
  
  At the moment everything had appeared lost, Hope was rekindled.
  
  Apollo would have had a lot of doubts about a trap, but Python's shocked expression was enough to convince him that, no, it wasn't an attempt to trick him and the rest of the prisoners.
  
  The other Lords of the Coalition were as astonished as the Sire of the Drakons.
  
  Besides, why would they need to trick them?
  
  They were chained, utterly at their mercy.
  
  There was no reason to fake a last-minute rescue operation.
  
  No, it was really happening.
  
  "ZEUS! IT'S ZEUS! STOP HIM!"
  
  Panic filled those words.
  
  Thanatos was the first to attack.
  
  The Reaper of Souls descended from his Throne, and his speed was close to what Hermes could achieve.
  
  He was the Incarnation of Death, and in a flash, he was already raising his scythe high, ready to strike Zeus' unprotected back.
  
  Thanatos missed.
  
  At the last second, with an improbable battle-timing, his father took a step to the left, and the scythe missed by millimetres.
  
  Thanatos had overextended...and there was a single lightning bolt.
  
  Thanatos snarled in surprise.
  
  His black robe fell.
  
  The God of Sun grimaced, for the appearance which had been hidden so far was truly repugnant.
  
  Seriously, where those worms infesting the dead flesh? What the hell, Thanatos?
  
  "You should not have come here, Zeus! We are at the apex of our strength, and you are alone!"
  
  The Master of Olympus' juvenile appearance didn't say a single word. Instead he looked emotionlessly at Thanatos' corpse-like arm.
  
  The treacherous God of Death did the same.
  
  There was now the Moon crescent branded upon his arm. What the Coalition torturers had branded with magical firebrands upon their buttocks, lightning had done the same now.
  
  "I won't let you-"
  
  There were so many chains to keep them docile that the Theatre had become crowded with them.
  
  It was not a good decoration.
  
  It also meant serious things for an improvised battlefield.
  
  The tube of metal became a simple lightning sword.
  
  And Zeus severed one chain.
  
  Just one.
  
  It wasn't even Orichalcum; it was one of the many enchanted steel ones supporting the reptile-like automatons.
  
  The chain snapped, and one end of it slammed into Thanatos from a dead angle...the Reaper of Souls had been so focused on his opponent he didn't see it coming.
  
  It should have been inconsequential.
  
  Except, of course, the horrible portal which had swallowed so many souls was there, gaping maw of darkness.
  
  The shockwave and a last lightning bolt sent the Lord of the Coalition through it in a fraction of a second.
  
  Shocked silence fell.
  
  No, no just shocked silence.
  
  Python and the others had their attention dominated by this dark not-mirror.
  
  They were waiting to see-
  
  Silver light flickered in existence on the edge of the cadre.
  
  "This is going against the laws of the Titan's Games!" Apollo found it extremely amusing that Sulla, of all people, was pestering them about the rules in a moment like that.
  
  "Don't be stupid. If the Nexus didn't reject Thanatos, then the laws and procedures have been respected." Python had recovered from his shock. This wasn't good. "His plan is evident. If he sends all of us through the Gate as Warriors one after another, we will be trapped inside the Titan's Game, at the mercy of whatever Referee the Olympians will choose."
  
  The Sire of the Drakons hissed, and it was a hateful thing.
  
  "Prometheus! Seal the Fools, while we give you the time-"
  
  A new chain of steel was severed, and Python's head had to make a rapid evasion lest it wanted to receive a humiliating injury.
  
  "Get off your thrones and fight him, or we're all going to share Thanatos' fate!"
  
  She was Discord.
  
  She was one of the eldest children of the King.
  
  Many times before, she had seen him fighting, be it for a spar or for a significant war.
  
  Never before had she seen him fight like that.
  
  No brutal show of strength. No overwhelming blasts of the Master Bolt.
  
  By Tartarus, she wasn't even sure this was the Master Bolt in his hands!
  
  It was a slow, impeccably timed dance.
  
  "Why?" Eris screamed as she struck...and missed, almost decapitating Triton. "Why did you lie to us?"
  
  There was no answer.
  
  In fact, had Zeus said even a single word since he crash-landed in the Nexus Theatre?
  
  This was absolutely unlike him-
  
  The Gigantes' roar shook the ancient structure to its foundations. Eris shivered, for there was now a crescent-shaped brand on the Bane of Hecate's leg.
  
  The tumult of war engulfed them.
  
  And in absurd sick sense of synchronisation, two things happened.
  
  A flooding of moonlight sap-like liquid fell upon Julia Drusilla's head, sealing her into a cocoon of silver, but not before the Roman girl emitted a frightening agony cry with her throat.
  
  And while Clytius was preparing a devastating spell, Zeus jumped, forcing Mimas to use one of his many rocket-launchers...which missed, and hit his giant brother.
  
  The sorcerer of the Coalition snarled, but couldn't do anything as his own magic blew up in his face...and sent him straight into the Titan's Gate.
  
  "How in the name of-"
  
  This wasn't talent. This wasn't even a Domain like the one she used to spread mayhem everywhere she did tourism.
  
  It wasn't even a blessing or some kind of incredible luck.
  
  It was talent; skill beyond the divine, the kind of aptitude on a battlefield that were honed to perfection by only a few immortals.
  
  Any mistake would-
  
  Eris screamed in surprise as her essence was attacked. She conjured wings and flew above the melee.
  
  A reflection charm later, she could confirm that yes, she had been branded, and her right buttock was now marred by a sun brand.
  
  "Beware!" Mimas roared! "His plan is not what you think it is! He has to respect-"
  
  The Bane of Hephaestus, bleeding black blood, was not given the time to finish his sentence. A much-delayed spell of Clytius exploded under his feet, silencing him, and only then Zeus slashed at his legs, destroying his sense of balance...and sending the Gigantes head-first into the Titan's Gate.
  
  Eris summoned all her strength, and tried to erect a wall between the clash and the cursed portal. Three had already been lost; it was three too many. If it continued like that-
  
  But her efforts collided with a giant mass of water.
  
  "What do you think you are doing?" Triton accused her.
  
  "The same thing as you do, but far better!" She retorted angrily. "Listen, you tail-armed barbarian, I need-"
  
  "What did you call me?"
  
  SHTANG! CHUNK!
  
  More chains snapped. A reptilian automaton rolled over like an impressive bowling striking tool.
  
  Midas collided with Sulla from behind, and for a second it looked like they were about to recover...only one more chain arrived, like a mace of judgement, and the two disappeared into the black energies of the Titan's Gate.
  
  The irony that the Gold King had sacrificed his children only to be sharing their fate in the end was not lost upon her.
  
  Eris stopped her attacks.
  
  They weren't accomplishing anything, and...a glance confirmed that yes, the six 'Moon Fools' were now sealed in their silver cocoons.
  
  Sunlight was beginning to illuminate part of the lower actor's scene, indicating there wasn't much time left.
  
  They had to hold-
  
  Triton's sonic attack went completely off-mark, striking Prometheus.
  
  "Idiot!" her self-control utterly collapsed.
  
  One second later, the ex-Heir of Poseidon, for his trouble, was on the path of the poisonous fumes and the terrible attack Python had summoned to strike down Zeus.
  
  Triton fell...and of course, the King of the Gods used the opportunity to kick him though the Titan's Gate.
  
  One more Lord of the Coalition down.
  
  Four of them left.
  
  Just four, when they had started with ten.
  
  If they weren't able to salvage the Titan's Game-
  
  Eris shouted a battle-cry.
  
  This time, she would use a spear. By the Pit! She had honed her instincts and her abilities during ten thousand civil wars, bloody rebellions, and massive periods of bloodshed. She had pushed Ares to indulge in slaughter and his worst Domains.
  
  Everything she had done, it had been for that kind of moment.
  
  To topple her father from the Kingly Throne-
  
  There was no way the difference of skill was that big-
  
  The spear was flying.
  
  Why?
  
  Up was down.
  
  Down was up.
  
  Eris saw the entire Nexus Theatre spiral out of control.
  
  Humiliation burned her cheeks.
  
  It was almost a relief when the Gate devoured her immortality.
  
  Almost.
  
  If Apollo had had any desire to go against his genitor and make some usurpation attempt - which was absolutely not the case, for the record - those desires would have died here and now.
  
  The Master of Olympus...the Master of Olympus had absolutely torn the Lords of Coalition apart, one by one, until even Prometheus was used as a counter-lever, and branded by Lightning bolts. It was not a coincidence that the sun-mark had been made upon the forehead, no.
  
  That exploit would have just been impressive enough, but Zeus had defeated them with just perfect timing, skill, and small lightning attacks that in all likelihood, a Demigod would be able to endure. The rest? It had been skill, skill, and skill again.
  
  It was sweet payback.
  
  It was incredibly satisfying.
  
  It may not be enough.
  
  By the time Prometheus had received the very treatment he had given to so many souls - and by the Pit, the Titan had gesticulated a lot in trying to miss his flight through the portal - all of the Thrones near him were covered in this sort of...Apollo didn't know what it was? Sun-imbued slime? Tree-aligned Sun sap? Well, whatever it was, it was incredibly painful, and once they were swallowed by it, the mass thus formed became opaque fast, all the while putting you in a merciful comatose state.
  
  Apollo was the last one to have not been 'swallowed' that way.
  
  The good news was that with Prometheus gone, the whole process had stopped.
  
  The bad news was...two Lords of the Coalition remained. Plus Hyperion and Theia, obviously, but chained upon their aerial Thrones, they couldn't do anything but glare at Zeus...whose juvenile appearance royally ignored them.
  
  Still, two Lords of the Coalition left.
  
  Python, of course. And the creature hiding behind nun clothes.
  
  Who had suddenly decided to rise from her Throne.
  
  Apollo noted that all the others had faded away. It seemed being committed to the very awful fate they'd planned to give them had some consequences.
  
  Unfortunately, with his Twin already in grave danger due to this silvery bubble-sap-stuff, and himself largely not out of mortal danger...Apollo wasn't going to say salvation was a sure-thing.
  
  Far from it.
  
  "I suppose we are going to have to change a lot of the scenario," Python hissed. "I will continue to play the role of Referee; that part won't need to be altered, at the very least."
  
  "Losing eight members to the Titan's Game was not part of the plan." The voice was clearly feminine, and incredibly melodious. Apollo had met opera singers who would be able to learn from her.
  
  Zeus, for sole reaction, took up a sword.
  
  "I'd never thought I would see the day you would use this Avatar to fight your own battles, honestly. During the Titanomachy, you had already aged yourself by a decade or so."
  
  The blue eye flashed like a strike of lightning. The golden eye seemed to be frozen in deep thought.
  
  It was strange, because he had never seen his father choose to change his eyes before today-
  
  "It is not sane to hate that part of yourself that much, Zeus."
  
  The nun's clothes fell.
  
  The woman revealed was a beautiful immortal...though of course most were assuredly visions of beauty and worthy of his attempts to secure dates with them.
  
  Well, except a little detail.
  
  The twin scorpion tails behind her killed the mood a bit.
  
  Who was she?
  
  For the first time since his arrival, Zeus spoke.
  
  "Echidna," the weight of regret, anger, frustration and many more things crushed the damaged Nexus Theatre.
  
  Oh, no. Oh, no. This 'woman' was the Mother of Monsters herself. Sweet Nectar, he had fantasized on a female monster which had copulated with Typhon!
  
  "It is over, Zeus. Python has taken the reins from Prometheus; Apollo will share the fate of the others in a few seconds. You made a valiant attempt, and you gave us a massive setback. But it is over. Python won't be easy to brand, never mind to send through the Titan's Gate. As for me...you know the rules."
  
  What kind of absurd ruling was that? There had been no problem giving Thanatos, Triton and Eris the punishment they richly deserved!
  
  "Per the sovereign decision of Kronos, grand King of the Titans, you and I have been proclaimed Victors of the Titan's Game in its year of Liberation and Expiation. If you send me there, you will be forced to compete too. And I don't think you are ready to risk your Crown, not when you won't be part of those who wager."
  
  The Mother of Monsters, surprisingly, offered a helping hand.
  
  "It is not too late for us."
  
  She obtained a reaction, all right. Lightning bolts fell; in a single minute they were about a thousand striking and melting the black marble...which unfortunately was rebuilding itself soon after.
  
  "There is no 'us'." Zeus spat venomously.
  
  More lightning boomed, light illuminated and blinded him...but a few seconds later, there was only scorched stones.
  
  Zeus was gone.
  
  His father was gone, and a pit of despair seized his divine essence.
  
  "That was a former union which could have turned better," Python hissed, regret evident in his voice.
  
  "Python?"
  
  Human appearance or not, the rage was obvious in the Mother of Monster's call.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "If you want me to not get ideas of copying Artemis' idea to create a lot of bags from your scales and vital organs, you will not comment about anything related to my divorce. Am I clear?"
  
  "Perfectly clear," Apollo had never seen his arch-enemy so...so...so subservient. "Let's put an end to this ceremony. I swear, I thought only Perseus Jackson could cause my plans to crash in such a spectacular way..."
  
  Golden light bloomed.
  
  Apollo screamed in agony.
  
  3 July 2007, the Desolation of Nexus Hill, New Byzantium (technically)
  
  It rained a lot over Nexus Hill now.
  
  Some critics had said it was a result of the Blasting Ominous Object of Mass Destruction being able to vaporize one more thing beyond the grave. Others put the blame on the severed heads of the Magma Drakons.
  
  The reason was far more prosaic: as part of its initial sabotage operations, the Airborne-launched Emus had crippled an important weather-controlling ward, and for the moment, there were other priorities than to repair it.
  
  The Gods knew that they had yet to find enough bulldozers and engineering support so that they could bury all the hundreds of thousands of corpses left on the battlefield.
  
  Some Tribunes had thought he was joking when he complained about the lack of courtesy shown by the enemy. That the monsters not turning immediately into gold dust was a sacrilege.
  
  Well, who was laughing now?
  
  The battlefield was a swampy nightmare, where so many corpses had been left that the need to remove them was taking priority over everything save the re-fortification efforts.
  
  Perseus contemplated the battlefield with a dark eye, protected from the rain by his orange umbrella.
  
  The big gossipers of New Byzantium had already found a name for it, he knew: the Coalition's Desolation.
  
  And it was certainly apt.
  
  As it was, no one was trying to go deep into Nexus Hill...the stability of the entire thing was very much in question, as the Myrmekes had dug an enormous tunnel to spirit away the Nexus Theatre. No one really knew how long it would last before collapsing both underground structures and the things above it.
  
  Otherwise?
  
  Otherwise things were...not going well.
  
  Still, he was really going to need to have to stop this rain. Parts of the fields closer to the western wall were flooded now. Maybe Lou Ellen would have a solution? Their first communications right after the battle had been about other issues, but solving a magical problem was very much her cup of tea...and if she didn't know a solution, maybe Circe would.
  
  Perseus knew how to screw the weather in a specific area and for a short-term period.
  
  Modifying the weather in a finely tuned manner and for a long period of time was way outside his field of expertise.
  
  And speaking of specialties...
  
  The grey umbrella he had never been seen before, but with an owl upon your shoulder, there was not a great list of candidates to choose from.
  
  "Four hundred and eighty dead," the former Tyrant said conversationally. "We also have fifty missing, some who were captured by the bastards; others we have not yet found the corpses in this mess."
  
  Had he mentioned the Stymphalian Emus were carnivorous? Well, now he did.
  
  "Between the Questers and the Legionnaires, we have some two thousand wounded, three-quarters of which are expected to recover...eventually."
  
  Some never would.
  
  "In return, we must have killed somewhere around four hundred and fifty thousand Emus, eighty thousand of those Clay Golems, Automatons, or whatever their true name is...plus twenty-two thousand Myrmekes, one Cretan Hippopotamus, eight thousand Mares of Diomedes, several battalions of renegade Cyclops, one thousand traitor Atlantean troops, and of course, five Magma Drakons of respectable size."
  
  He paused before delivering the killing blow.
  
  "An incredible tactical victory that is not able to mask the decisive strategic defeat we suffered."
  
  "I do not blame you for the failure of the Nexus Theatre, Perseus Jackson."
  
  Perseus chuckled. Unbelievable. Did she think...talk about self-centred.
  
  "I was referring to the minor fact that when the Magma Drakons revealed themselves and pushed us to the brink of defeat, a company worth of hypersonic Ceryneian Rabbits struck us hard. The main force went through our defences like a knife in soft butter, and they managed to get away with the Golden Fleece. At the same time, a second force of these little fiends managed somehow to reach the vault where I had hidden the cursed artefacts recovered at New York."
  
  Python must really, really have thought the risk of them being turned against him were way too high, for him to react so brazenly and devastatingly.
  
  Alas, it didn't change the fact it had also been successful.
  
  "Fortunately, the contingencies I had made to prevent Miss Dare and Nocturna from being taken away were far more successful. As a result, I can say I didn't lose everything on the battlefield."
  
  The loss of the Golden Fleece had been bad enough. In a single action, the Coalition had prevented thousands from returning to the battlefield. Over eight hours of battle, the holy healing artefact had saved thousands of lives, and ensured thousands more could recover fast enough to return on the frontlines.
  
  "As I say, I do not blame you for the defeat."
  
  "Well, I do not blame myself either," Perseus shrugged. "This dubious honour entirely belongs to the Huntresses and the Satyrs. No less than eighteen times I lacked a military reserve in this slaughter-feast, and it was at dawn to realise that yes, they were close to fifteen thousand Huntresses standing idle nearby, more interested in praising Artemis than in sending some of their archers to reinforce us."
  
  "They were duped."
  
  Perseus grunted, and showed all the scorn he felt for the cretins falling for such a transparent set of lies.
  
  "They wanted to be duped, nuance. This is why I formally request Olympus to give me the permission for a proper Roman punishment. Decimation for the average rank-and-file of the Hunt; once it will be over, I will let Bianca crucify the officers."
  
  "This is a poor jest, Perseus Jackson." Ah, more reprobation. Olympus didn't truly understand what they had unleashed, didn't they?
  
  "This is not a jest, and I was not the first Demigod to propose it, Goddess. Half of the Legionnaires want skulls of Huntresses on the gates they refused to defend in the first place. The Satyrs, we will use them as fertilisers, it seem their delusional behaviour may at least benefit the plants of this region."
  
  Perhaps if the Huntresses and their horned allies of circumstance had mounted a ferocious pursuit of the enemy...but no, once the cauldron of Emus had been massacred in an orgy of blood and feathers, they had not raced to track and hunt down the force which had avoided encirclement.
  
  Whatever reason they had for this pathetic behaviour, it had not been shared to anyone outside the Hunt. As a result, there was a serious amount of...extreme loathing being directed at the servants of Artemis. Especially by the Cohorts which had been standing vigil when the hammer fell, and who received the worst casualties, being unable to use the defences to their maximal effect as the Emus simply flew over them.
  
  "You will not take justice in your own hands."
  
  "Per the will of the Master of Olympus himself, I presume?"
  
  "Yes." There was a hesitation, short, but it was noticeable. "You are to present yourself before the Council. I am to escort you. The matter is of grave importance."
  
  The answer was really easy to give now.
  
  "No. No, I don't think I will go."
  
  Since the rumours spread around the Coalition had begun to reach the seedy information markets of the divine world, Perseus saw only two reasons why Zeus wanted to see him in person.
  
  The first was to blame him for everything which went wrong.
  
  The other possible reason was to demand him to go rescuing Apollo and Artemis, something which involved a not-so-innocent Great Quest-level peril called 'Titan's Game'.
  
  Both reasons were so outrageous it was better to not answer the 'invitation'.
  
  "You are not summoned to stand in judgment, Perseus Jackson," he now knew the parent who had given Annabeth this inability to keep a good face when frustrated. "You are not the only one the King wants to address. Bianca di Angelo and Thalia Grace are to share to be present too."
  
  "In that case, I hope you're ready to escort a single Demigoddess, because Bianca won't obey either."
  
  If anything, Triumphant was far angrier than she was.
  
  Her solution to deal with the Huntresses was not to decimate the rank-and-file, but to outright halve their numbers. After all, a decimation left nine-tenths alive, and it figured the Dread Empress in her would find that way too lenient...
  
  "It matters to solve the kidnapping of your sister too." Let it not be said that the Goddess of Wisdom didn't try. And she had a good idea of the buttons to push too.
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "If there was a single chance I could save Aspen within the week, you would have met my father or his Queen on your way here, Goddess. No. I won't take this bait. And for the record, yes, I was informed of what Triton did. I also know my divine sisters are certainly going to insist to claim vengeance on their own. They want to rip his head off, desecrate his divine essence for a few centuries, and then commission my Lord Uncles' torturers to organise a level of torment which will make the one endured by Commodus properly gentle by comparison."
  
  That was assuming they didn't leave Aspen the pleasure to do it first, of course. She was Charybdis aeons ago, it must not be forgotten...
  
  "No. Tell the Master of Olympus...tell him what you want. I am done. If he does intend to keep all his secrets until Olympus burns, so be it. But I am not going to waste my teenage years running from fire to fire until collapsing out of exhaustion. If we wants the island of Kyushu to return from whatever Hell the Coalition sent it to, he can find another crazy Demigod...I'm not going to volunteer for a new disaster."
  
  4 July 2007, the Sky Temple, Olympus
  
  The audience had been supposed to take place in the Council Room, but the absence of one Tyrant and one Dread Empress had resulted in the event changing of location.
  
  Thalia hadn't missed the fact that no replacement Demigod had been invited, and that the majority of the Gods and the Goddesses were nowhere to be seen either.
  
  Thankfully, the decoration wasn't the one of the Tower.
  
  The resurrected soul of Catherine didn't think she would have reacted well if Olympus was the second bastion-capital of a divine Dread Empire.
  
  The view was spectacular. Many parts of the huge Palace had had its walls, floor, and ceiling replaced by magical animations of different types of aerial environments. At the moment, from an outside view, it looked like she was walking on clouds.
  
  The decorations were...not showing any kind of humility, shall we say? Where clouds and rain weren't integrated to amaze the visitor, hundreds of frescoes, tapestries, and other artistic representations retold the exploits of the King of the Gods, on the battlefield and inside the bedroom chambers.
  
  Yes, thank the Gods she wasn't a prude, because the sexual insinuations she'd met so far were enough to make any virgin a blushing mess.
  
  The distractions ended when she was introduced in a hall which felt like it was standing a good kilometre above the rest of Olympus, so high in the skies even eagles would struggle making their nests here.
  
  It was grandiose, with all the column of marbles; plenty of instruments to study the stars; old-fashioned couches, and plenty of bottles of liquor spread on a never-ending table.
  
  It was almost empty.
  
  The Master of Olympus was alone here, presenting her his back. Kairos-Perseus would have already thrown out a withering barb, but she was not the Tyrant of Helike.
  
  "Father, you summoned me." The God wasn't acting like one, but diplomacy required from time to time certain lies.
  
  "Yes, yes, daughter, I did."
  
  Zeus turned his head to look at her, while an object he had been studying saw its dimensions multiplied by four or five, enlarging itself from a rubber ball size to a respectable model for...something.
  
  "You have done well, in the last battles. I'm told you played a critical role into killing the Elder Dragons."
  
  "The good tools were in place, and I had the inspiration at a good moment," though if she had known all those 'Lacusomancer' jokes would spread across the world in result, she assuredly would have hesitated to do it that way. "And I wasn't alone. Plenty of other Demigods have accomplished great exploits."
  
  "I know."
  
  Thalia winced deep inside. Maybe it was the wrong moment to say it, but...ah, hells. There would never be a good moment anyway.
  
  "It would be better if you told it to them in person...because, no offense, but...the tempers at New Byzantium and Constantinople are not pleasant at all. For now, everyone is mending the wounds, trying to recover from the beating the Coalition gave us. It's the 'tomorrow' which worries me."
  
  The rumours spreading in the last twenty-four hours very much hinted her divine genitor had ambushed the enemy leadership and obliterated the majority. This had convinced in turn pretty much all the armchair strategists that the 'divine escalation' on the Coalition part had been nothing but a bluff.
  
  A bluff the Olympians had fallen for, and the consequences were thousands of casualties, plus of course a lot of material damage.
  
  "The Huntresses and the Satyrs?"
  
  "Their camp is...like a fortified island in the middle of enemy territory." Honestly, they deserved it. They could have thrown fifteen thousand Huntresses at any point of the battle, turning the tide decisively in the defenders' favour without requiring tyrannical ideas of impractical craziness.
  
  "I see. This is definitely going to be...a problem. Come closer, I want to show you something, daughter."
  
  Right, since it was so nicely asked...
  
  It took close to fifty steps to be by the sides of the God of Lightning, who definitely radiated an aura of...sorrow and regret?
  
  The extremely elaborated model of wood, metal, and water above her provided an excellent distraction from all the questions trotting in her head.
  
  It was...strange. The entire model seemed to represent an island, except no island, to the best of her knowledge, had ever looked like a big giant wheel.
  
  And no, it wasn't a bad pun. There were some anomalies; the entire thing was crudely-shaped, but the sight from 'above' was truly an island taking the shape of the wheel.
  
  "The best reconstruction I was capable of, using my memories and the work of certain witnesses," Zeus told her.
  
  "It doesn't look natural at all," she told bluntly to her divine genitor.
  
  "Oh, it is not," Zeus shrugged in a very human manner. "The island was raised specifically from the ocean's depths by the Titan of the same name. It was to be the arena of a Titan's Game several millennia ago...it ended being the last one to ever be called."
  
  Ah. All the rumours and the important gossip which had turned around the planet several times over had a sound foundation, it looked like.
  
  "Now usually," the King of the Gods continued like 'creating an entire island for entertainment purposes' was the normal stuff you did every day, "the Host would be the Titan offering the Wager, or in exceptional cases, the role of Referee would be given to him. Not this time. The Crooked One decided these 'Expiation and Liberation Games' were to be special. He offered the Wager himself. Which Domain do you think was offered, daughter?"
  
  It didn't take a lot of brainpower to know the answer, given her surroundings.
  
  "The Sky," she answered. "The King of Titans wagered the Sky."
  
  "Yes. It was an insult the Lord of Oceans would not forget any time soon...and it probably did a lot to convince him to stay neutral during the Titanomachy. Now watch, daughter."
  
  Thalia watched, and couldn't repress a grimace when she began to see the island slowly beginning to put itself in motion...exactly like a wheel.
  
  Some part of her was tried to rationalise it as nothing but a divine toy, but there was the representation of a giant Dark City at the centre of the wheel-island. If the scale was adopted to show everything in a manageable format, Gods Below, this entire divine creation had been as big as the Kingdom of Callow...and all of it was nothing but a giant arena for the Titans to play with.
  
  Her thoughts turned quickly into horror as a giant wave hit the 'wheel's edge' of the island; for several seconds, it submerged the contour entirely and smashed into the twelve 'avenues' leading to the centre of the wheel.
  
  "This was the Disaster of the First Day," Zeus was not smiling, and his tone was sour. "A giant tsunami, though of course we didn't call it by this designation when we were doing the dying here."
  
  Merciful-
  
  Yes. Yes, of course. The very reason her divine genitor could show her this was either he was a participant, or a spectator. It appeared it was the former.
  
  "It must have been a slaughter." Only the Dark City at the centre of the wheel had been spared from the effect of the overwhelming wave.
  
  "It was. The Crooked One had insisted few children of the Sea Titans and all others having the capacity to breathe underwater were authorised to participate. Two-thirds of all souls involved didn't know how to swim."
  
  This was...okay, it was Evil. Stupid Evil. Impractical Evil. Call it whatever you wanted: it was butchery done in Evil's name.
  
  "What purpose did it serve?" the voice of the former Black Queen did not hide her loathing. "It is just drowning people for the sake of drowning people!"
  
  "The Court of Othrys would have disagreed with you, daughter. In their words, it was the duty of the Mighty to inherit the world. If you were strong enough, you would survive and thrive, gaining strength and skill until standing at the end of the world."
  
  Then Zeus snorted derisively, his expression a mask of scorn.
  
  "Of course, I noticed early on that close to all the Titans who dared sharing this opinion were not the ones who had ever survived a Titan's Game of the 'murder edition'. Yes, those Games were more like grand competitions of athletics at the beginning. Although due to the nature of the Titans, they never were bloodless."
  
  The wheel turned. The ocean trembled.
  
  And the now visible figures seemed to...shift and transform?
  
  "The Disaster of the Second Day," the Lord of Thunder explained. "The Hour of the Beasts. I don't need to tell you what it consisted of, do I?"
  
  "No." One more triumph of Evil. Seriously, the Dread Emperors and Empresses of Praes would likely have applauded the efforts of Kronos to earn the favour of the Gods Below. "There's more, right?"
  
  "One Disaster per Day," Zeus confirmed. He didn't give any obvious command, but the cataclysms accelerated. One moment, the water levels rose unequally over the island; the next they descended. At some point the contact with the salted liquid could turn you into a statue of bronze. Other times, giant sea monsters attacked the island.
  
  Thalia was very unhappy with those ones, because, seriously, if the thing was up to scale, the damn beasts were the size of the Drakon Perseus and his Suicide Squad had slain during their Great Quest.
  
  A giant mutated crab, in particular, was looking like it was built to break entire islands with its titanic pincers.
  
  "There is...I don't see the point of this."
  
  This was just a way to murder thousands, under the pretense it was a 'game'.
  
  You could only try to survive, and if the little dots covering the shores were corpses as she feared...your luck was going to run out sooner or later. The daughter of the Lightning was betting on 'sooner'.
  
  Zeus shrugged again.
  
  "I've always felt the cruelty of the Crooked One and his favourites was the point by itself. When one thinks about it, in the latest iterations, they didn't need the Titan's Games anymore. Their armies were strong. They had more than enough immortal servants to crush all attempts of rebellion. The main reason the Titan's Game had been invented at the beginning was to boost their numbers; this reason had fallen into disuse. This left cruelty."
  
  Thalia didn't say anything. What was there to say when one of the latest 'Day's Disasters' was the combination of vast flooding of parts of the island and a giant sea snake attacking at the same time?
  
  Yes, cruelty had been the entire point of this.
  
  "How can anyone survive? Rumours are all the participants are stripped of their immortality, powers, and all divine-level boons before they're thrown into this pit."
  
  "The rumours are indeed true. However, what you can't really see on this map, for the Altar was hidden inside the City of the Titan's Games, was that surviving each day gave every Demi-Titan made part of the wager a chance to 'eat' the scraps of the Power of the Sky. If we survived the cataclysm and the furious battles to recover food, clean water, and powerful weapons...we could get stronger, faster, and more resistant. Our wounds healed; we discovered in ourselves the ability to use new powers we had never felt the tiniest inclination for."
  
  That still felt like a bad bargain. Just to begin with, this entire damn island was surrounded by water, and if you couldn't swim or breathe underwater, the Sky-based powers weren't going to be of much use until you were able to fly under your own power.
  
  "But you are perfectly right. Few survived. In fact, the Titan's Game I volunteered for had a simple rule the King of Titans didn't bother telling us: the Game would continue until one or two of us were left. It took forty-one days to arrive to that point."
  
  Forty-one Disasters. Gods. How could anyone stay sane in the middle of this nightmare?
  
  "Err...when you say one or two...we're just speaking of..."
  
  "This specific Titan's Game had several 'classes' of participants: the Demi-Titans part of the wager, the Cupbearers, the Sacrificed also known as Warriors, and the Slaves."
  
  The King of the Gods' face told everything before the words were spoken.
  
  "When the sun set over the last day, they were only two souls left to kneel in front of Him," there was enough disgust in the last word to kill someone, "and I was one of them. We were two left alive."
  
  At no point, Thalia was sure, her divine genitor ever suggested he had won.
  
  This had been a survival game, from the first second to the last.
  
  It had given him the first claims to the Sky, power that he certainly would use later to usurp Kronos - who for this butchery alone, certainly deserved his awful demise.
  
  At no point though, it had been enough to give Zeus and the other survivor the power to challenge victoriously the King of Titans. You were given immortality and eternal youth, yes.
  
  You didn't get the power to break your chains. The entire 'Titan's Game' was rigged to make sure the Titan making the wager won despite not having lifted a finger. Sure, you were more powerful at the end of the survival game than at the beginning. But you were likely exhausted, injured, and probably rendered insane to boot.
  
  "The Land of the Risen Sun; this is why they chose Kyushu Island in the Japanese Archipelago this time. Their original plan was to repeat the same atrocity they did with this wheel-island."
  
  Zeus silently nodded, lips tightened.
  
  "What do you want me to do?"
  
  5 July 2007, the Costa del Sol Beach, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  It was a good day to be a Tyrant.
  
  Per his unlimited authority, decision had been taken unanimously that the order of the day was 'relax and enjoy the summer day'. It was something his minions had approved in a one-sided and totally-sincere vote.
  
  Seriously. What was life for if not to place yourself on a lounge chair, drink orange juice regularly refreshed by ice cubes, while his faithful penguins cooked fried sardines for Queen Zenobia the Second in the distance?
  
  The parasols, evidently, had been chosen for their vivid orange colour.
  
  "There is something important."
  
  Ah, here it came. Truly there was no rest for the wicked...though he would of course loudly protest he didn't fall into that category, of course.
  
  "Annabeth, I forgive you in advance for the horrible crime you were going to commit against my august rule. I decreed a period of rest and heroic tranquillity! Go back to your lounge chair, and drink with me this absolutely delightful cold orange juice. When we will have finished it, I will of course summon the cooks. They have promised us a delicious set of strawberry tarts, and I don't want to miss it."
  
  "Perseus, you should know-"
  
  "Ta! Ta! Ta! I am officially on holidays until September. I have suddenly to adopt a life of hedonism and outrageous laziness! Offenders who dare challenge this ruling will be condemned to a punishment worse than death...going shopping with Hera."
  
  "I'm so glad you think my sister's behaviour is something worse than all your punishments, nephew."
  
  Ah. That was why Annabeth had been so insistent.
  
  Perseus raised his sunglasses.
  
  "Lord Uncle! What a surprise! I wasn't expecting a visit so soon."
  
  Whispers had generally been in all agreement on one point about recent events: there had been an attempt to launch a massive rebellion in Hell.
  
  Well, there was a second point spreading around: the would-be rebels who had not escaped with the Coalition's agents had been crushed decisively and were now screaming in the Fields of Punishment, begging the Furies to stop, that it was all a mistake, and all of the usual 'I am innocent!' stuff...which never worked.
  
  "The situation has stabilised enough that I can afford a few hours out of my Domain. The mountains of paperwork, unfortunately, have tripled due to Thanatos' betrayal."
  
  "Speaking of which-"
  
  "The Power of Death is still functioning as it needs to, do not worry. Our genitor was cruel and crooked, but he wasn't stupid. When one separates the essence of an immortal and condemns him or her to participate into the Titan's Game, the Domain remains intact, and can fulfil its primary duties. Otherwise you would have gotten monumental problems with the Sun and the Moon for years, I fear."
  
  Perseus gave the God of the Underworld a glance. Yep, Hades had come entirely clad in black...thus the probable urgency into getting under one of the parasols.
  
  "Good. It would have been a shame to not work on my tanning during all those months the use of the beach is avidly recommended to us by Lord D."
  
  Hades gave him an ironic expression.
  
  Perseus rolled his shoulders.
  
  "It's really a pity for Lord Apollo. He wasn't that bad for a son of the Big Guy, I think. The Coalition outright admitted in the tales they spread they had to pile up opponents after opponents against him, even after they surprised him."
  
  It had included, to his completely lack of surprise, Phobos and Deimos. There really was a deficit of brains in the entourage of the God of War, lately.
  
  "Apollo," Hades drily pointed out. "Not Apollo and Artemis."
  
  "I must vigorously point out that the reason we were unable to prevent the Nexus Theatre from disappearing into the claws of the Coalition is because we received zero support from the Huntresses when it was critical from happening. That's the saying of 'being blown up by your own grenade', I believe, or something close."
  
  For all the defeat suffered, there was a certain disturbing amount of satisfaction in his mind. He had warned them those brainwashed girls were a Cult and would lead them to disaster...and this had indeed proved a monumental weakness at the worst moment possible.
  
  "I don't think, Lord Uncle, you care very much about them anyway."
  
  The Lord of Hell wasn't a hypocrite; he didn't open his mouth to defend the Lady of the Moon and the Hunt.
  
  "I have a daughter thrown into this pit of madness and despair," the eldest of Kronos' sons admitted after a short period of silence. "Her name is Hazel Levesque. I sired her in my Roman Aspect. The Coalition kidnapped her when Discord stormed the Lotus Club of London."
  
  This must have been a one-sided spanking. Demigods against a Goddess as strong as Eris...
  
  On the positive side, the Coalition had 'enjoyed' being on the receiving side of the same, from what the information-breakers told him. Perseus wasn't going to lament a single second. Triton really deserved far, far worse than what he had endured for now.
  
  "I sympathise, Lord Uncle." For all intents and purposes, he had lost a sister too to that nightmare which had swallowed them without warning.
  
  "But this time, it stays limited to your sympathy."
  
  The former Tyrant didn't apologise.
  
  "While there are a lot of falsehoods circulating nowadays, one thing many of the rumours agree upon is that there's nothing formally to stop a bunch of Demigods to sail towards adventure come the Winter Solstice. We could land upon the famous shores of Kyushu, and try to re-enact the grand tale James Clavell wrote in his best-seller Shogun. A tiny problem, unfortunately, is that we are all branded immediately as 'slaves', and apparently we will be incinerated the moment a tiny power of the Sun is thrown around by the Coalition."
  
  Perseus drank the entirety of his orange juice glass. It was cold, but not as cold as the 'one chance in frozen Hell' they had to survive a Titan's Game.
  
  "The Suicide Squad was created to complete Great Quests which the average Demigod had no chance of surviving, Lord Uncle. It was to grow in strength and challenge the greatest perils of the land and sea for as long as there was a chance to win. A chance in a million, that was all we asked to conquer the Sea of Monsters."
  
  Realistically, it had been more than a chance in ten million, truly.
  
  "Assuming the Coalition doesn't bother lying about the ancient bloody past of these charming slaughter-games, there isn't a chance to win that."
  
  No one had really 'won' a Titan's Game. And not for lack of trying.
  
  The sad reality, however, was that a badly weakened immortal or an overpowered Demigod didn't stand a chance against a Titan. Fighting Tethys had been incredibly difficult, and she had thrown the towel at the end.
  
  Hyperion and Theia wouldn't.
  
  "The Coalition agents didn't lie."
  
  The son of Poseidon respected Hades for not trying to sell him a lie.
  
  "Thank you, Lord Uncle." He said. "I will be honest in return: I like Aspen. We exchanged a lot of correspondence lately. But I am not going to plunge my head into this 'Titan's Game' knowing all I will achieve will be to die with her. Moreover, the Suicide Squad won't follow me on this path. A high chance of perishing is not the same as a certain chance of dying in awful circumstances."
  
  They were the Suicide Squad, not the Moronic Squad, thank you very much.
  
  "Why the insistence, Lord Uncle? Even if the Titan of Light regains his former strength with the Titaness of Splendour-Moon, I think you can still beat them with just your Queens as back-up. And the Coalition is at risk of losing incredibly big: most of its founding members are now going to be part of the 'Game' they wanted to sacrifice others to."
  
  "But the Sire of the Drakons is not among those trapped."
  
  Yes, but it wasn't-
  
  Ah.
  
  "You think you have found what his ultimate plan is, and that it has excellent odds of working, despite the loss of so many accomplices."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "But you aren't going to tell me."
  
  "The knowledge is dangerous, and not just because my little brother would throw a fit knowing I informed you."
  
  "Secrets are the rope which will strangle him right in due time. As I said to his daughter, I hope keeping the secrets for so long is a big consolation when the Coalition survivors are busy tattling everything they know to millions of ears."
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "If it is all-"
  
  "The last Titan's Game to ever be won had only two survivors: my brother Zeus and Echidna, a Demi-Titaness, daughter of Perses, Titan of Destruction. Kronos wagered the Sky, but it was hosted by Oceanus, ensuring my little brother never would choose the Sea as his Domain, given how much fear he now had for the aquatic immensities of the ocean."
  
  And the Demi-Titaness had become the Mother of Monsters, before eventually joining the Coalition.
  
  "That can't have been easy for him." He wasn't going to pity Zeus, because it was Zeus, but...well, not being a son of Poseidon and having to face sea monsters and sea storms when you weren't equipped for them...
  
  "Oh, it was worse. Zeus grew to love a girl who was a Titaness' Legacy. He made her his Cupbearer. And he saw her die without being able to save her. Her body was barely cold when Kronos ended the Titan's Game, and forced him to agree to take Echidna's hand in marriage."
  
  Perseus had the urge to shout something. That was...particularly spiteful and malicious, even by the standards of someone like Kronos.
  
  "I presume the marriage didn't last long."
  
  "The day he freed us from our genitor's belly was also the day Zeus ended his first marriage." The Lord of the Underworld sighed. "With the benefit of hindsight, the seeds of destruction for all his future unions had already been sown. And I would have preferred he killed her. As it was, while her role in the Titanomachy was relatively limited, Echidna grew into a very dangerous foe in the centuries which followed."
  
  "You never managed to send her to the Pit under your realm?"
  
  "One never survives the Titan's Game by dumb luck alone, nephew. I assure you, the current Mother of Monsters would have likely been able to wipe out New Byzantium alone just using her extensive battle-experience."
  
  Wonderful. Python was bad enough, and now a new monster came out of the shadows, straight from the Age of Titans.
  
  "What do you want me to do, Lord Uncle?"
  
  The eyes of the Underworld pierced through his soul. The sensation was not welcome.
  
  "Unless I am very wrong, the Coalition will soon open negotiations with Olympus. As much as they want to remove Apollo and Artemis from the board, no matter how much invested they invested into the downfall of two Olympians and increasing the firepower available to their organisation...they simply can't afford to lose eight or ten of their leaders in one single year. That, at least, was never part of their plan."
  
  "They still have their Oracle and a figure which can clearly serve as a rallying point."
  
  "It doesn't matter without Prometheus, who is certainly the reason the Coalition didn't self-destroy under the crushing weight of their combined ambitions. Furthermore, they lost their Gigantes Sorcerer in Clytius, their Treasurer in Midas, and three of our greatest traitors."
  
  Hades was probably right about this. No, he was right. The 'empty thrones' the rumours were speaking of were either for Hyperion and Theia, or there were two missing members hidden among the participants of the Titan's Game.
  
  "Without them to ensure the Titan's Game is rigged like they wanted, the result of the slaughter is going to end with a total obliteration. As things stand currently, yes Apollo and Artemis will die a permanent death, but the Lords of the Coalition will soon join them. And unlike other demises, no one has ever returned from losing in a Titan's Game."
  
  Perseus ordered a new bottle of orange juice. He really, really didn't like where it was going.
  
  "What do you want me to do, Lord Uncle?"
  
  A large black folder materialised over an abandoned beach chair, displacing plenty of magazines Drew had left behind when going swimming.
  
  "I want you to find the loopholes into the rules. If there is someone who can, it is you."
  
  Well, the compliments were always a good way to earn his favours.
  
  "And I want you to bury the hatchet with my brother and the Huntresses. Stop pushing things behind the scenes. The servants of Artemis and the Satyrs won't go to the gallows, no matter how hard and discreetly you try to engineer it. There will be a time to do this, but this summer is not it. The alliance of Atlantis and Olympus must also be preserved little longer."
  
  "You're asking for a lot, Lord Uncle," Perseus complained as he put back his glasses once. "What did the Sire do that worries you so much?"
  
  There was no answer.
  
  Three seconds later, Annabeth coughed.
  
  "He just left, in case you're wondering."
  
  "Is it the moment they say 'busted'?" Perseus voiced drily.
  
  "Probably," his girlfriend gave him a smirk. "What now?"
  
  "Now...I believe I will place this folder in a secure place, and continue to enjoy the summer sun. It will be always time to do something about it tomorrow."
  
  "Why tomorrow?"
  
  "Thalia should be back, and I am not summoning the penguins to do something serious on a Thursday!"
  
  "Because Friday is better?" the daughter of Athena said with scepticism.
  
  "No, but if things turn crazy, at least everyone will have the weekend to cool down."
  
  "You're a deplorable example for future generations of Demigods, you realise."
  
  "I know, Annabeth, and let me tell you, I'm trying my best!"
  
  Author's note:
  
  Welcome, Fools, to the Titan's Game. You volunteering for it is completely optional. Failing to entertain the Titans is not.
  
  The trap is closed. The twins of Leto are condemned to a fate worse than death. Yet the Coalition has just suffered a disaster too.
  
  With each side in a very complicated situation, everyone is going to have to make some compromises. It's that or seeing a lot of your allies die for nothing in a series of cruel trials few have ever survived.
  
  Yes, there is a reason why Arc 3 is called Perseus Jackson and the Titan's Game.
  
  The next chapter, in all probability, will be named Cupbearer.
  
  Pray the Gods to keep you sane, for assuredly, the Suicide Squad will not try to limit the craziness...
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
  
  ww w .pa treon Antony444
  
  previous chapterchapter list
  Cupbearer
  Chapter 36
  
  Cupbearer
  
  The Coalition's mistake, in the end, was to assume that the Kingship Domain could exist in two places at once.
  
  It couldn't.
  
  There is no King of the Titans while a King of Gods rule on Olympus, and there never will be as long as the home of the Olympians stands.
  
  On that point, Prometheus and his partners-in-crime were deluding themselves. Othrys is a ruin, and won't be rebuilt by some weakened lieutenants of the Tyrant of Time.
  
  Unfortunately, it was the only mistake the Coalition made.
  
  Worse, the pre-conditions of the final ritual meant that Zeus' intervention was not just limited in its duration. It also suffered from severe restrictions. There was not to be direct incineration using the Master Bolt. In fact, throwing the Lords of the Coalition through the Gate where there had already sent so many innocents was pretty much the only option available.
  
  It was half-feasible when the opponent was in shock and rather weak.
  
  It was very much not when the opponent was something as big and powerful as the Sire of the Drakons. And of course, there was the Mother of Monsters. While the arrival of the King of Gods had not been predicted, it is obvious now that Echidna always was the counter the Coalition had ready for something like that. She was the ultimate contingency of Python and all the others, the threat that would force Zeus and his House to back down temporarily.
  
  Add to this the issue that this entire battle was very much limited to the duration of the ritual, and one might say the clocks were against Apollo and Artemis getting away free from this nightmare.
  
  Not that there had been much hope in the first place, you know.
  
  Olympus had committed too many mistakes, when the Coalition made none before the last step.
  
  An ocean of monster blood had been shed.
  
  Armies had perished.
  
  Years of resources had dried up to make malevolent feints and diversions.
  
  It really didn't matter. The goal has been accomplished.
  
  Nothing, be it all the Gods of Olympus or a legion worth of Demigods, could stop the wheels crushing hopes and dreams to dust.
  
  A new Titan's Game was going to start on the Winter Solstice.
  
  6 July 2007, War Room of the Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  The room was a mess.
  
  The six boards he had brought were filled with his ramblings and quantities of scratches. Several mountains of papers had forced the table to disappear, and soon, it would be the turn of the chairs.
  
  Computers that had somehow escaped his accumulation of documents were spitting out more and more disturbing reports.
  
  Hololithic projectors of a crimson colour bathed the atmosphere in a suitable environment of doom and despair.
  
  All of it was unnecessary, mind you.
  
  Between the white boards and the out-of-control paperwork, the biggest computer had crashed down, defeated by the numbers that had been typed into its strategy-inclined software.
  
  Now the screen was frozen for good, and it showed only one thing.
  
  0%
  
  "Yes, that was kind of what expected," Perseus Jackson grinned. "They are so dead."
  
  "By the 'they', you mean-"
  
  "Oh, yes, don't worry, Annabeth. I meant Apollo and Artemis, of course."
  
  His blonde lover wasn't pleased, though it may have to do a lot with the rampant chaos unleashed in this very room.
  
  "Well," the daughter of Athena crossed her arms and showed an expression of displeasure. "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. I mean, the entire point of this sadistic 'Game' is that at the end of the journey, no matter how long it lasts, you are going to fight a Titan or a Titaness in an exhausted and weakened state."
  
  "That's indeed a good answer," the former Tyrant nodded. "Although when it comes to Apollo and Artemis themselves, I don't think we will have to wait for a month to learn of their demises."
  
  "Why?"
  
  Perseus used a minor touch of Hydrokinesis to bring forwards the board where the name of the 'Fools' had been written in two neat columns.
  
  "Because they're surrounded by enemies, Annabeth."
  
  "Some of them hate the Coalition; if the rumours can be trusted-"
  
  "Whatever the rumours say, the reality is that plenty of the Fools marked here are going to make it their priority to murder the titular God of the Sun and the Goddess of the Moon. I don't think the Coalition went to recruit Kallisto, former Lieutenant of the Hunt, just to organise a long-delayed meeting with her former liege."
  
  The leader of the Suicide Squad was ready to acknowledge there was a lot he was unaware of when it came to the ten 'Fools' opposing the two Olympians.
  
  What little he knew, however, was sufficient to paint a dire picture.
  
  "Seriously, I know the Triumvirate had excellent reasons to hate the guts of the Twins, but Caligula and Julia Drusilla built their future on the foundation they would eventually usurp Apollo and Artemis as Neo Helios and Neo Selene. They have zero reason to hold back now that the 'prey' had been presented on the sacrificial altar."
  
  "At the risk of having to play the Devil's advocate...we're speaking of Olympians. They could surprise you."
  
  Annabeth...may have had a point.
  
  "It's true Apollo has done some improbable things," he admitted. No matter how hard one tried, Perseus didn't know how a God of Music had been able to win one-on-one against Python. "And he may be able to recover faster than the strategic predictions calculated, as during the Age of Antiquity, he was turned into a mortal three times. At least."
  
  "See? You can't be as grim as Ethan no matter how much you try."
  
  The son of Poseidon sighed.
  
  "Annabeth, they are nonetheless going to die. Trapped into a mortal body, Apollo and Artemis will effectively be forced to endure what normal Questers have to face on hyper-dangerous Great Quests. Unlike us, though, they won't have friends or allies. The Coalition has thrown them with five thousand 'Warriors', and I think that it is a good bet that the orders have come to murder them in their sleep. Whether the 'Motivator Implants' function after going through the 'Titan's Gate' is irrelevant. There always will be hundreds of killers ready to jump at the first opportunity. Oh, and let's not forget that at present, there are eight Lords of the Coalition to support these Olympian assassinations."
  
  If he was being honest with himself, Perseus didn't think he would survive for very long this excruciatingly catastrophic situation.
  
  Yes, it would make a nice heroic tale: the gallant and dashing saviour against a legion of villains.
  
  The little problem with this description was that the 'legion of villains' was theoretically the 'allied side', or the 'rival side' if you were more pragmatic.
  
  You had then to deal with the monsters, and the recent battle fought and lost for the Nexus Theatre proved beyond doubt the Sire of the Drakons had some mighty assets at his disposal.
  
  "They are so dead." He repeated his previous conclusion. Nothing so far had been able to convince him to change it.
  
  "Are you going to repeat it to Thalia? She's on her way."
  
  "Annabeth, my eternal friend is largely capable of arriving at the same conclusion I did on her own."
  
  The former Adjudicator of Love - self-proclaimed - sighed and threw his pencil against the closest white board.
  
  "Enough of that. I am going to eat my breakfast."
  
  6 July 2007, the Breakfast Balcony, the Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Evidently, dealing with a Tyrant in the morning, especially one who didn't want to cooperate, was a chore by itself.
  
  Thalia had done it several times in a past life, and she supposed being a villain meant she was cursed to repeat it in her second.
  
  The former Black Queen was willing to swear on everything she held dear that it wasn't an enjoyable experience.
  
  "If you take-"
  
  "Five thousand enemies, your Majesty."
  
  And the smirking son of Poseidon went back to munching a pastry. The less said about what he did to nearby eggs, the better.
  
  "It's true the entire rapport of strength is a bit...unfavourable for the Olympus loyalist faction." In reality, it was way worse than that, and they both knew it. "But we have a secret weapon the Coalition discarded."
  
  "I love secret weapons to stab my enemies in the back," the Tyrant grinned, passing a glass filled with orange juice to Annabeth. "Continue, my friend."
  
  "There are twenty powerful Demigods within the ranks of those five thousand. And many of them refused to side with the Coalition during the initial ritual."
  
  The grin and all signs of amusement instantly disappeared.
  
  "Those are not secret weapons, my friend. Those are bombs ready to detonate at the worst moment possible."
  
  Had she missed something?
  
  "I was told that unlike the crazy bunch hidden in the Divine Mansion, the ones of the Lotus Club were relatively sane."
  
  "They are, as far as I know," Perseus confirmed, as the daughter of Athena placed one hand on his right shoulder. "But I would be very hesitant to call them 'allies'. Many of them stayed loyal in the first place because the Coalition offered them the choice between an early grave or a longer and unpleasant demise. Faced with that, of course they were going to take the loyalist path."
  
  The crimson eye shone like an aster of malice and damnation.
  
  "Unfortunately for us, the moment has passed. These brave heroes are now branded like cattle, and forced to participate in the Titan's Game. Though they are now comatose, it will be only a matter of minutes once they wake up to learn that in a Titan's Game, there is nothing Olympus can do to save their skins and their souls. I can't be certain of how they will react, but I predict it won't be pretty."
  
  The Tyrant was right, damn it. Why hadn't she thought of that? In her last years, she'd really began to think more like an adventurous rogue, and less like a proper villain or conspiring traitor...
  
  "Of the twenty powerful Demigods," Perseus Jackson spoke again with a tired face, "the only one I would consider reliable is my half-sister Aspen, and only under the condition I participate personally. Note that she is the only Demigoddess who wasn't hidden in the Lotus Club."
  
  There were two heartbeats of silence.
  
  "It is naturally, out of the question for me to take part in this insanity. I have no intention to throw my life away for a doomed cause."
  
  Thalia grimaced deep inside. She had expected it, and hearing it was not pleasant.
  
  "You could impose your ambitions on some ambitious Demigods."
  
  "If I want to inflict significant collateral damage, Black Queen, I assure you, I already have a Carthaginian Hydra and two penguins."
  
  "It isn't that bad," the Black Queen protested loudly.
  
  The grin came back, and the red eye burned malevolently.
  
  "Oh, so you hadn't read the exploits of the Bengal Plunder and Looting Party?"
  
  "I am pretty sure you invented the name."
  
  "Guilty," the Tyrant replied smugly. "I didn't invent their exploits, though. Those British-born Demigods and Demigoddesses are infamous. It isn't every day that the entire Hindi Pantheon is trying to murder the mortal children of the Olympians."
  
  "It was that bad?" Annabeth asked.
  
  "I should still have the rare book retelling their 'exploits' in my archives. I will search it and give it to you once this breakfast is over," her boyfriend promised. "Short version of the story, Aurelian Clive, son of Zeus, and his joyous band of miscreants sacked and plundered seven sacred cities, killed hundreds of local Demigods, and did a lot of evil stuff because they wanted to get rich before their twentieth birthday. They amassed a treasure so high that in all likelihood, when they came back to London, they were wealthier than we were before paying the taxes to the Goddess of Heroes and the Council."
  
  That was an absurd amount of plunder. They were speaking of more than two hundred million Drachmas, though inflation had to be taken into account...
  
  "Of course, the Thugs of Kali followed them to London, and murdered several of them during their sleep," Perseus continued. "Battle erupted in the English countryside. It eventually got so bad that the King of Gods and all his advisors decided to throw them into the local establishment held by the Lotus-Eaters. Many of the plundered treasures were given back to appease the Pantheons worshipped east of the Indus. The God of Wine was the diplomat representing Olympus, if I'm not mistaken."
  
  As someone who had been named 'Arch-Heretic' and that the Angelic Choirs tried to smite on sight, Thalia had to admit that these 'predecessors' had gone so fast beyond the limits that the boundaries might as well not exist.
  
  "I wasn't aware who had survived until recently, but apparently, there are twelve of them. And of course, their leader, Aurelian Clive, nicknamed the Blasphemer, is among them."
  
  "The Blasphemer, really?"
  
  "I know, I know, Arch-Heretic rolled off better on the tongue." The Tyrant shrugged. "He is accompanied by his sister, Helen Clive, who is often called 'the Second Helen' for her beauty. And she is a daughter of Jupiter."
  
  The Black Queen didn't like that at all. Until now, she had thought that Jason and she were anomalies. That her brother being sired by the Roman Aspect of her divine genitor years after the Greek aspect got her mother pregnant was unprecedented.
  
  Clearly, it was not the case. There was something problematic at foot here.
  
  "Continue," she commanded.
  
  "Gladly!" Perseus grinned. "Where was I? Ah yes, the Bengal Plundering Party. After the children of the King, we have a bunch of extremely dangerous war criminals. Fergus Anson, son of my sister Kymopoleia, known as the Stormreaver. Oliver Sharp, son of Vulcan, better passed into infamy as the Steelbreaker. Leopold Crowley, son of Trivia, the Dark Prophet. Those are the big names. The others..."
  
  A sheet of paper flew into his hands.
  
  "The others are nasty pieces of work too," when a Tyrant called you that way, you knew these peoples were evil with a capital 'E'. "Jill, no last name, daughter of Fama. Keir, no last name, son of Faunus...hmm...it seems the Roman God based on the patron of Satyrs was a different immortal altogether. Anyway...we have Warren Forbes, son of Vis, Alfred Judge, son of Mutunus Tutunus, and last but not least, the grand hunter Balthazar von Pelt, son of Janus."
  
  The sheet of paper disappeared as fast as it had been conjured, and Perseus Jackson returned to his eggs.
  
  "I agree, just based on the nicknames, and the short version of the story that...err...those are not reliable allies. I think I want to read more about the Great Quest they completed in India, though."
  
  "Annabeth will give you the book once she's satisfied she knows as much as I do," the son of Poseidon waved his hand in dismissal of the subject.
  
  It worked.
  
  After this short exchange, Thalia was not in real mood to ask him how bad the seven Demigods left were.
  
  Since Annabeth didn't open her mouth to tell there might be a few salvageable apples in it, these Demigods were assuredly crazy strong...and not very reliable.
  
  "The Coalition really did make sure there would be no true allies for Apollo and Artemis, didn't they?"
  
  "From the very start of their grand plan, little was left to chance," it was the stark truth, and it echoed dangerously in the halls of the New Sea Palace. "But enough about that. You were saying you had some information about a past Titan's Game?"
  
  "Yes. Yes, I do."
  
  6 July 2007, Chthonian Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Nico watched as the ancient island was once more submerged by a tsunami.
  
  Another tsunami.
  
  With the model experiencing every twenty minutes what happened in a single day millennia ago, the frequency of these gigantic waves was just absurd.
  
  "That was the twentieth," the young son of Hades tried not to sound panicky...and he knew he likely failed.
  
  "Twenty in thirty-two days, yes," Perseus commented as it was no big deal, his red eye coldly analysing every factor, no matter how insignificant. "Note please that since the tenth day, all the giant waves are used as a delivery method to deploy massive sea monsters into the lakes and other internal sources of water that should have been cleared hours ago."
  
  "The planners behind this Titan's Game were ensuring no zone was safe for the Demi-Titans," his sister intervened.
  
  "Yes," Ethan Nakamura agreed. "At the same time, they contaminated the few sources of potable water at the survivor's disposal."
  
  "Clever," sometimes, Bianca was really frightening. This was one of those times. "Clever and cruel."
  
  Perseus...Perseus scoffed.
  
  "You are so easily impressed. I assure you, there's nothing to be in awe of."
  
  "If you understood everything, why don't you explain us the principle guiding this Titan's Game?"
  
  The Lord of the Suicide Squad smiled.
  
  "This Game is nothing but the whims of a giant clock."
  
  Bianca, in a very predictable fashion, had the palm of her hands burning in black flames.
  
  "Yes, yes we had noticed! The rhythm of disasters, trials, and everything is organised like a giant clock! The waves and the monsters arrive like they're regulated by a metronome! Once you know what to search, a pocket watch and a log book are enough to know to the minute when you're going to be screwed."
  
  "This is absolutely true," Perseus shrugged. "And it is also missing the forest for the trees."
  
  "What do you mean, Jackson?"
  
  "I'm saying that this island-arena was not forced to act like a gigantic clock, with the monsters and cataclysms ordered to imitate the whims of Time. The island-arena was controlled by a divine clock."
  
  Many looked at the son of Poseidon in shock. Nico was among the majority who gaped, unable to speak a single word.
  
  "What?" Yeah, Clarisse summed-up perfectly the situation.
  
  Perseus grinned, incredibly satisfied.
  
  "There is a good old proverb that once you have removed all the impossible stuff, everything that remains has to be the truth. The King of Titans was the one who wagered the Sky during this Titan's Game. It stood to reason he couldn't make sure one of his sycophants controlled the rotations of the island and the tides of monsters with such precision. Add his legendary paranoia. Who did the Titan of Time trust? 'No one but himself' is the answer. Once you know this, it is not difficult to deduce the truth. Kronos crafted an incredible artefact, one controlling the entire Game. Everything happened on this clock's schedule."
  
  Fingers clicked. The recollection of the ancient tragedy stopped.
  
  "To win the Game, the Demi-Titans had to find this apocalypse clock, and destroy it. This would have given them the power of the Sky put into the wager."
  
  "This is insane," Dakota replied. "Where would the clock be in the first place? The island was shattered constantly by the tsunamis and the other maritime disasters!"
  
  "Was it?" Perseus asked calmly. "There was a location that was left undamaged every day no matter what kind of foe-disaster was sent against the Demi-Titans."
  
  His fingers almost caressed the black walls at the centre of the map.
  
  "The City of the Titan's Games," Ethan groaned. "Could it have been so simple?"
  
  Their leader shook his head slowly.
  
  "No, of course not. I strongly suspect that Kronos, vicious bastard that he is, protected this clock of his with plenty of murderous traps and several big challenges. Since he was the Master of the Hours, I wouldn't be surprised either if there was a minimum of participants to win. Twelve hours, twelve Demi-Titans. Yes, that would have been a malicious trick worthy of the Crooked One."
  
  Nico cleared his throat.
  
  "It was possible, then, to win this Titan's Game."
  
  Perseus chuckled.
  
  "Nico, I love your optimism, but even if I'm correct about this - and I'm pretty sure I am, to be honest - one mustn't forget that I wasn't in the midst of the battles and the slaughter millennia ago. It is way, way easier for me to arrive to the correct conclusion. I am not the one bleeding and dying on the rocks, desperately trying to predict when the next tsunami will strike."
  
  The face of Perseus Jackson turned into something as emotionless as granite.
  
  "I must also point out that it is entirely possible the future King of Gods and his Demi-Titan 'allies' did realise the truth, but were unable to locate said clock. From my position, it is easy to proclaim it must be found. In practise, it wouldn't be that simple. If Kronos wished to be a bastard, he would limit the amount of time the Demi-Titans could spend in his citadel. Given that the participants storm out despite the waves never hitting the black marble temples once, it is almost a certainty the rules were forcing them out."
  
  Nico shivered...again.
  
  That wasn't a game, or a Quest.
  
  This had just been a methodical slaughter, and your only chance to live was to realise something was akin to solving a legendary riddle.
  
  "And in the end...I will remind each and every one of you that once the Apocalypse Clock was dealt with, you had to pick your disease, between plague and cholera. Or in cruder terms, choose to fight Kronos, King of Titans, or submit to him."
  
  The dam holding fear and terror at bay broke again.
  
  This was an impossible mission, and they all knew it.
  
  No matter how healthy and bolstered by the power of the Sky, they would have to fight an immortal who could manipulate Time itself.
  
  His dreadful scythe, according to the legends, could inflict permanent injuries to his fellow Titans in a single blow; for non-immortals, it would be instantaneous death.
  
  This would not be the kind of fight Tethys had accepted when she confronted the Suicide Squad.
  
  It would be a series of executions masquerading as a battle.
  
  Bianca sighed.
  
  "The Goddess of Wisdom has teleported in front of our gates."
  
  "Good," Perseus Jackson answered. "I think it is time to go to Olympus."
  
  "You want to know if you were correct, right?"
  
  "I admit I do," the son of Poseidon said with a complete lack of humility. "But I also think it is time for we Demigods to present our grievances."
  
  6 July 2007, Council Room, Olympus
  
  It was only when the last of the Demigods was half a kilometre away and the doors of the Council Room were hermetically closed that his brother sighed.
  
  "A clock," Zeus released a stormy breath. "Of course it had to be a clock."
  
  "You cant know for sure one way or another," Demeter pointed out.
  
  "It was a clock," Zeus was many things today, but convincing himself of his own superiority when it came to schemes was not one of them. "It is exactly the kind of vicious plots the Crooked One would have loved. Moreover, your son Poseidon ignores something. There was a large white fresco left unpainted in the City. It represented the twelve Throne-Holders of Othrys, and it was called the Victory over the Sky."
  
  Poseidon winced.
  
  "You think destroying it would have revealed the entrance to a series of underground corridors leading to the 'Apocalypse Clock'?"
  
  "I do not think, I am certain of it," the Master of Olympus replied. "Giving us a chance of victory while convincing us nothing was more important than the game of survival outside the City is exactly how the King of Titans would have had its fun. I suspected long ago that to respect some Primordial Laws, the King of Titans had to let us the possibility of a path to confronting him with reasonable chances of success, one way or another. This hidden clock would fit perfectly this role."
  
  "It would have given you a victory," Nike pointed out.
  
  Zeus welcomed stoically the correction.
  
  "I know. Then again, a fight against any Titan is a dangerous proposal. A fight against the Crooked One would be extremely difficult even in perfect conditions. I remain convinced it would have been preferable. During the first day, we were given six hours or so of rest. It would have been the perfect opportunity to act."
  
  "Except," Athena pointed out logically, "the suspicions of Poseidon's son were not shared by anyone."
  
  "This is, alas, incorrect." Zeus' expression was a monument to defeat. "She raised her voice. We didn't listen."
  
  "We're speaking-"
  
  "Of the current Mother of Monsters, yes." The King of the Gods' second sigh was really long, and for once, his younger brother was not trying to be dramatic.
  
  Plenty of Olympians exchanged worried glances. None dared raising their voices, though.
  
  Poseidon wasn't surprised. Nepotism was good for some things, but when it came to the time of proposing daring solutions, there was no one ready.
  
  "As interesting as this revelation was, I don't think it is very likely the Coalition will try to use the 'Apocalypse Clock' again." He intervened.
  
  "Not unless one of these backstabbing monsters wants to become the new Titan of Time, no," Zeus confirmed. "I don't think they will take the risk. The Crooked One never went ahead and spoke of this secret during the year I served at Othrys. The workings of this artefact would remain obscure for everyone. Besides, I'm certain there are many more things in the vaults of the City that they're able to gain access to as we speak. And unlike a Time-empowered clock, plenty of these cursed things won't blow up in their faces."
  
  Zeus pinched his nose and the Master Bolt vanished from his hands.
  
  "While this point may be irrelevant in the long-term, it at least pointed to a truth I think none of you will object: at the time being, your son, Poseidon, may be the only Demigod cunning enough to have a chance against the plans of the Mother of Monsters and the Sire of the Drakons."
  
  Would miracles never cease? Zeus' pragmatic personality was resurfacing.
  
  "I find myself in agreement," the Lord of the Seas answered without a smile. "I must point though, that at the time, he's also a Demigod who isn't going to obey you."
  
  For good reasons, admittedly, and if one had to be entirely truthful, Zeus had done nothing to deserve his son's allegiance, and everything to earn his spite and his defiance.
  
  "If offered a chance to save his half-sister-"
  
  "Zeus," he stopped his brother. "We both know very well that right now, sailing for Kyushu is not the recipe for saving the day and completing a Great Quest. It is nothing more than an elaborate form of suicide."
  
  In the name of love, a sibling could consent to exchange his or her place, if the cherished one got out of a kidnapping alive.
  
  A Titan's Game didn't work like that.
  
  Both rescuer and the party they attempted to save were going to die, period.
  
  "As for the power of the Drachmas," Athena commented neutrally, "it is effectively useless. All the gold and the money resources in the world will do no good if one dies merely ten minutes after the beginning of the Titan's Game. One doesn't pay Charon after a defeat in this slaughterhouse."
  
  Yes, dying permanently...sucked.
  
  Zeus scowled.
  
  "Do you think I shouldn't have been honest, then?"
  
  "Oh, no, it was definitely the correct decision," Dionysus temporarily abandoned his golden cup and his barrel. "I don't think any Demigod would have been exactly happy to discover the hard way that 'being branded and go naked' is the first step when presenting oneself for a Titan's Game. That said, there's no denying it will bother every member of the Suicide Squad mightily. A lot of their recent successes were due to extensive preparations and a significant material support, including but not limited to a super-mega-yacht."
  
  "Once you are in the City of the Titan's Games, the Referee is bound to provide you clothes and weapons."
  
  "Quality equipment and weapons?" Poseidon queried innocently.
  
  Judging how his brother winced, the answer was all too evident. They had the example of Commodus' Gladiator Games were...ah, of course. The narcissist bastard had tested the waters for his master.
  
  "The entire affair is rigged," Athena bluntly declared. "The only surprise I see is that Hyperion and Theia agreed in the first place to participate in this murder party. The Coalition betrays everyone; I wouldn't have trusted the Sire of the Drakons to not use the Titan's Game to not create newborn Titans who would eventually usurp me."
  
  "The Lord of Light and his Consort always were formidably arrogant," Zeus spoke without irony. "And the very idea of re-conquering their former Domains must have been irresistible for them. It doesn't help that the son and daughter who usurped them in the first place are no more. By the end of the Titanomachy, they feared Helios and Selene. They don't fear their successors and the other pretenders."
  
  Which might end biting them somewhere painful, Poseidon thought. A name was important, but not as important as power, battle-experience, and the sheer will to ascend and claim one's Apotheosis against all opposition.
  
  "But as long as the Coalition won't come to negotiate, all these speculations are just that, speculations." The Master of Olympus grunted. "Let's speak of something we have closed our eyes upon for too long. The Satyrs and the Huntresses. As much as I am wary about the ambitions of your son, Poseidon, he was completely right about them. They didn't fight for Olympus, and their behaviour lately is becoming extremely concerning."
  
  Hermes, Athena, and Dionysus did their utmost to not give expressions which were tantamount to scream 'I told you so!'
  
  Nike, ultimately, was the one who took it for the Council as a whole.
  
  "The former are loyal to the memory of a God who died long ago. The latter are only listening to their Mistress, and none other. We should have given direct oversight to one or several major Gods directly answering to the Council long ago. If they weren't going to be needed for the Titan's Game, I would advise to purge them here and now."
  
  "Err..." Dionysus stopped filling his barrel with more alcoholic substances. "I don't want to sound the alarm, but...you realise that if we send the Huntresses, they may take the nomination as a reward, right?"
  
  "To say nothing of the fact that if we are able to negotiate reinforcements for Apollo and Artemis, this will convince plenty of Demigods to not volunteer," Athena said grimly. "I don't think I reveal a secret when I say the enmity between the Hunt and the Suicide Squad has reached new levels of hostility."
  
  "Yet punishing them is necessary," Zeus stated coldly. "While everyone fought, they stood idle. While my children were branded and condemned to a fate worse than death, the Satyrs and the Huntresses let others bleed for the defence of New Byzantium and Human Civilisation. They were disloyal. There must be a punishment, besides an eventual participation to the Titan's Game."
  
  If that wasn't telling the parties involved had gone 'too far', nothing was.
  
  The King of the Gods had always been the last Council member to propose punishments when it came to the Court of Artemis, or the daughter of Leto herself. And even then, most of the time, it was Hera who enforced the punishments.
  
  The Huntresses and their horned partners-in-crimes had gone too far, and this time, there was no one to speak for them.
  
  "Any suggestions?"
  
  8 July 2007, the Old Aqueduct, southern approaches of New Constantinople
  
  It was, honestly, rather shocking to see the Huntresses and the Satyrs beginning to remove the corpses and the debris from the damaged parts of the Old Aqueduct.
  
  Not because the action wasn't required; it was. Though there were other systems bringing water to the city of Demigods, this one needed to be repaired as quickly as possible. Many Romans were complaining, and the Senate had received hundreds of letters urging them to remedy to that disastrous situation in the last twenty-four hours.
  
  No, the real surprise was that the servants of Artemis and Pan could ultimately obey Olympus' orders, if the tone was sufficiently threatening and the 'Mistress of the Hunt' was nowhere in sight.
  
  "They're working assiduously this morning."
  
  Perseus yawned.
  
  "Ethan? Just look at them. It is beginning to sink into their minds that they've screwed up big time."
  
  The son of Nemesis did not share this optimistic opinion.
  
  "Did they?" he asked rhetorically. "In my opinion, they regret that their actions led to the long-term absence of their Goddess. They screwed up because they now have the confirmation it wasn't the Moon Herself telling them to stay away from the battlefield and let us get slaughtered. They are furious the Coalition used their prejudices to manipulate them without a shot being fired."
  
  All of that was true, by the way. It wasn't a speech detached from reality.
  
  "If the Goddess they pledged themselves to was to appear at noon and tell them they had acted well, I assure you, they would forgive every critic and depart, ignoring every punishment we would order them to do."
  
  Perseus adjusted his sunglasses.
  
  "You may be right. No, you're certainly right. That said, Artemis isn't going to come back at noon. Britomartis won't come back either, and apparently, some of the Huntresses among the thousands we have assembled in the vicinity are hers. In fact, there's a good likelihood the two won't come back at all."
  
  "I didn't see any of the evil lesbian cultists losing their powers." Yes, Perseus Jackson was a bad influence. Ethan blamed him, and all punishments had to go first on the head of a certain son of Poseidon.
  
  The insane Demigod snorted.
  
  "Ethan, it doesn't work like that. The sliver of power in every Huntress is Artemis', yes, but as long as the Goddess isn't deliberately calling it back because she thinks the oaths have been broken, this is a near-independent essence. It is there, out of reach. The Coalition can't touch it...and neither can Artemis, in fact, from where she is imprisoned."
  
  There was a pause.
  
  "Besides, you've seen what happened to Jenna and Ellen, among others. Losing the blessings of the Moon and the Hunt is significant, but not the end of the world. The girls lose certain things they're used to, like elite archery skills, and they're no longer eternally young. The moment they're kicked out of the Hunt, they're beginning to age once more. But they don't take back the age they should have or some other nonsense."
  
  "That's true as long as Artemis is alive, I take it?"
  
  "As long as there is the tiniest possibility she will continue to serve as the Goddess of the Moon, Virginity, the Hunt, and some of the Domains part of the oaths, yes." Perseus nodded.
  
  "What would happen in that case?"
  
  The amused expression was an answer by itself.
  
  "The whole point of this story is to find out?" Ethan tried.
  
  "I would rather say 'we're likely to have the answer to that question soon', instead." The Lord of the Suicide Squad mused. "I don't think the Coalition trapped the aforementioned Goddess in a Titan's Game just to propose a game of riddles and criticise her fur clothing choices."
  
  "True, but the situation can be salvageable-"
  
  "Ethan," the mad Demigod interrupted him in a very serious voice. "At the moment, we know vaguely where the two missing Twin Olympians are imprisoned: the island of Kyushu, Japanese Archipelago. Did you notice how many rescuers flying in that direction to save the day?"
  
  Yes, he had noticed. There was no one.
  
  And that meant-
  
  "According to the papers left by my dear Uncle, within one hundred hours of the starting ritual, the Referee must pledge their impartiality to one Primordial by a solemn oath. As soon as it is done, there is absolutely no way to infiltrate oneself or to organise a deadly race to save the prisoners. Any trespasser will be neutralised, branded like cattle, and it will be up to the Referee if the inimical party ends up as Warriors or Slaves. Needless to say, this doesn't really attract volunteers. Gods ending up playing a Quest as mortals and dying for good tend to be a bit...unpopular."
  
  There was the little issue of the death rate being closed to 100% too.
  
  "I think it wouldn't have stopped some of the individuals currently removing the debris from the Aqueduct."
  
  "On that point, you're perfectly right, though I think losing the blessings of the Hunt may hurt more than you think."
  
  "What?"
  
  "I am unsure if the archery skills are taken away when you go through the infernal gate and become formally part of the Titan's Gate, Ethan. But the power of the Moon and Eternal Youth? In a Game where the Domains of the Sun and the Moon are going to be contested in an epic clash which will shake the world for decades to come? No, there's no way the Huntresses would be able to keep it for the trials they would face with their Lady. I will grant you they won't be as badly weakened as Artemis, but the loss will nonetheless be felt."
  
  That...that was indeed logical.
  
  Well, there was a certain poetic justice to it.
  
  The Huntresses had refused to fight when they had everything going for them; now the alternatives could be summed up as fighting in far worse situations and with the equivalent of one hand tied behind their backs.
  
  "Now if you will excuse me, my grim lieutenant, I have other places to visit today."
  
  "Where are you going?"
  
  Some limitations had been lifted after the Battle against the Emus, most likely because Olympus had grown exhausted of watching the son of Poseidon while the world burned.
  
  "Oh, you know, visiting some foreign palaces, eating some exotic food, and swearing eternal friendships to new and old acquaintances!"
  
  13 July 2007, the New Temple, Luxor, Aegyptus, the Reborn Domain of Isis
  
  Isis froze.
  
  As a Goddess, she could still be surprised...in theory.
  
  But not here. Not in her private quarters, the Heart of her Domain.
  
  No one was invited here without her permission, and if someone disagreed, it was too bad...for them.
  
  No God or Goddess could enter Luxor if she didn't want them to.
  
  It was the capital of her new kingdom, the seat she had forged with prayers, ichor, and sheer power.
  
  For all the intruders and enemies, there was plenty of Black Mamba's venom and hundreds of Legionnaires' swords ready.
  
  This, in fact, made it completely absurd that anyone could stroll in the hall where she often shared with her husband food and drinks that mortals couldn't digest.
  
  "My compliments for the cobra venom," the Demigod emptied the chalice he had emptied in one gulp. "It is exquisite and pure. Now I almost forgive you for not proposing arsenic..."
  
  "Perseus Jackson," Isis hissed.
  
  No, this wasn't an illusion...or a nightmare.
  
  The son of Poseidon was really here.
  
  "Yes, that's my name. Until I decide to change it, of course!"
  
  "How did you enter Luxor?"
  
  "Well, you know, there was that big door unlocked, and I felt that it was an invitation in due form!"
  
  The urge to reveal her divine form was increasing with every second. Isis had to control herself. Mainly by telling herself there was a good chance it wouldn't even work. The infuriating Demigod had survived worse.
  
  "All the entrances of my Temple are guarded and sealed by powerful enchantments."
  
  "Nothing can stop your Adjudicator of Love!"
  
  Fortunately, there wasn't any power to accompany that declaration. It didn't stop her from seething, of course.
  
  "Former Adjudicator. Former."
  
  "Let us not bother with all those minor details and insignificant problems." The legacy of the Earthshaker poured himself more wine - spiked with cobra venom, not that it seemed to do anything to him - and filled his plate with some venison. "I heard your Triumvirate had experienced some difficulties...or should I call them setbacks?"
  
  "We have faced worse in the past, Perseus Jackson."
  
  "No, you haven't," the red-eyed shone maliciously, calling up her bluff on the spot. "The Coalition captured Caligula and his sister, and threw them with Apollo and Artemis inside this joyous slaughter feast that the King of Titans decided to call 'Titan's Game' millennia ago."
  
  "And?" At this point, the preferable thing was not to give more information, since the leader of the Suicide Squad was far too informed for her taste.
  
  "And this is bad. For you."
  
  Perseus Jackson cut himself a part of roasted steak before munching it slowly.
  
  The bastard was doing it deliberately to annoy her.
  
  "In case Olympus forgot to send a courier to Luxor, I can confirm that there are a certain number of Romans which were arrested, branded, and committed to an atrocious demise within the Titan's Game. The first is a name, I think, you will recognise. The Coalition called him the Landowner, but you know him better as Marcus Licinius Crassus."
  
  Isis kept a stone-like expression, but behind it, she grimaced.
  
  How to forget the wealthiest man of Rome, one greedy and amoral man never satisfied by the fantastic amounts of wealth he already possessed? Beyond that, Crassus was part of the Roman Legend. For he was a member of the First Triumvirate.
  
  "It appears he was betrayed by the Coalition at the last hour," Perseus Jackson continued. "But while he fell to glorious and predictable treachery, we were able to confirm via my Dark Uncle that he specifically arranged the release of three ex-Emperors. They were intended to participate in the carnage from the very start. By all witnesses' accounts, the Coalition called them 'the Lesser Triumvirate'."
  
  Damn it. Any hope the attack on the Triumvirate and Caligula specifically had been a short-lived opportunity Prometheus exploited for all it was worth collapsed here and now.
  
  "The Emperors?"
  
  "Nero. Elagabalus. And since they were recruited by Crassus...Didius Julianus."
  
  Isis opened her mouth, but everything she could say seemed to be unimportant given this latest revelation.
  
  "They brought the man who literally won the 'auction' organised by the Praetorian Guard?"
  
  "Someone must have thought that if the Throne of the Empire was a biddable affair, why not the ones of the Olympians?" Perseus Jackson grinned.
  
  "It will never work."
  
  To think otherwise...it was...it was...it was just insanity.
  
  "My own lieutenants were saying the same for plenty of the Quests we completed. Yet here I am."
  
  Evidently, as much as she wanted to deny it, the Demigod had a point.
  
  Alas.
  
  "Why are you here, Perseus Jackson?"
  
  "Isn't it obvious, your Pharaonic Divine Majesty?" The red eye never stopped staring at her, and it bothered her. Somehow, it felt like the madman was able to directly watch her immortal form, no matter how impossible the idea was in the first place. "I came to propose my eternal friendship."
  
  The wine was emptied, and the cup accidentally fell on the head of one of her Black Mambas that she had let slithering ever closer. It was not a coincidence.
  
  "Again."
  
  15 July 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Perseus was really starting to hate people who woke him up before dawn.
  
  It was extremely rude.
  
  It always cut short his sleep, and worst of all, it was almost impossible to fall into Morpheus' realm again after that. Getting him imbued with Drakonic potent blood was not, contrary to one might think, devoid of drawbacks.
  
  At least this time it was a phone call. Maybe he would be able to get rid of it in mere minutes.
  
  "You have indeed reached the Bureau in charge of Emu Extermination Efforts," the former Tyrant drawled. "If you are an Emu, we provide suicide course options at a reasonable price and-"
  
  "Do you know they've forever destroyed the legacy of my father?"
  
  Ah, hell. It seemed he wasn't going to sleep for quite a few hours.
  
  "Lady Circe," of course the Goddess of Magic and Immortal Sorceress was going to take badly the events which had led to the Titan's Game. "I presume by your words that all the last sanctuaries of your Lord Father have lost their radiance."
  
  "You presume correctly," the daughter of Helios was angry, very much so. "Why didn't you stop it?"
  
  "Why didn't I stop five Magma Drakons coming on the tails of half a million Emus? I blame the partially-completed defences, the failure of the Huntresses and Satyrs to show up on the battlefield, and more importantly, a shocking lack of foresight from Olympus."
  
  "This isn't going to be tolerated!" Would that be a wonderful sight? Circe suing Zeus for not doing his job properly...
  
  Circe had reasons to be angry. Any part of the power of the Sun or the Moon which hadn't been attached to a God or a living being was now at risk to have its power siphoned and extracted before being channelled through whatever artefacts the Titan's Game used for the 'wagers'.
  
  "Correct the situation, Perseus Jackson. You've been marked by the Sun."
  
  As if he could forget this charming moment of burning agony.
  
  "How?" the former Tyrant asked, making sure all his sarcasm and humour remained far away from the phone. "The King of Gods himself, via my beloved Lord Uncle, confirmed that the 'selection ritual' is well and truly over. The Coalition has locked the wagers. The two 'Titans who wagered' and the twelve 'Fools-in-the-wager' have been volunteered for their roles and sealed away until the Winter Solstice."
  
  It was virtually certain now that no one, not even Python, could stop the Titan's Game without suffering a monstrous amount of collateral damage. It wouldn't stop them to modify the rules of the 'Game', of course, but cancelling it outright? It would be simpler to force the Master of Olympus to swear vows of celibacy.
  
  "And?" For the first time, there was something...curious in the Goddess' voice.
  
  "I don't think there is an 'and' necessary, my Lady."
  
  "In fact, there is. Do you confirm the seats for the Cupbearers were not filled?"
  
  "As far as I know...the Coalition did not intend to have anything like that in their little game of slaughter."
  
  "Typical," the Sorceress of Animal Transformations snorted.
  
  "If I may ask, how-"
  
  "This novelty appeared in reaction to a Game where the Titan of Light managed to kill pretty much everyone. Naturally, my father was there as a witness. He told me the tale when I was young."
  
  Hyperion had organised a game where everyone had died. By all the Demons of the Hells.
  
  It shouldn't be a source of hope that the freaking Coalition was organising the entire affair...
  
  "What does a 'Cupbearer' do in the first place? I was under the impression it was more about the Demi-Titans gaining a sidekick than any genuine help. Seriously, they can fill your wine cup, but I doubt it is doing anyone much good when you're facing several giant monsters bigger than the Parthenon."
  
  Circe chuckled...for about two seconds.
  
  "No, it is not. When Hyperion destroyed a massive amount of farmland, it wouldn't have mattered much if you had one or ten servants to fill your cups; you would have died either way." The Goddess swallowed something before continuing. "The Lord of Light forced everyone to kill each other as he incinerated the food resources and everything edible before pushing the multiple contestants in a small parch of land. The Demi-Titans had no choice but to slay and eliminate their competition or face starvation."
  
  That sounded even worse than the 'Game' Kronos had organised in Oceanus' Domain, and the King of Titans couldn't be accused of sentimentality.
  
  "No, a Cupbearer was...ah. He is listening to this conversation."
  
  "Lady-"
  
  "They've gone too far this time. I am on my way to Olympus. And I am going to urge them to slay this miserable snake if they want to enjoy the benefits of my Spa again!"
  
  The phone rang sinisterly several times, and then the communication ended.
  
  Perseus yawned, and this time, it was really because he hadn't had enough sleep.
  
  "I tell everyone it is indecent and a bad omen to wake up before the sun, but no one ever listens to my sound advice!"
  
  He smiled.
  
  "Is it too late to make a few bets about Circe's tumultuous and no doubt incredibly exciting audience in front of the King of Gods?"
  
  17 July 2007, Costa del Sol Beach, New Byzantium
  
  It was fun to run on the yellow sand on the morning.
  
  The sea brought enough fresh air for the physical effort to not be a real torture.
  
  Do it early enough, and there was a relative silence.
  
  Relative, yes.
  
  One had to account for Asterius, who made enough ruckus to alert an army.
  
  "You could try to be a bit more discreet, my friend. I think the Legions are monitoring me just by focusing their spying devices on the noise you make."
  
  "You're wrong, short one."
  
  "About what?"
  
  "I do not need to be discreet, short one."
  
  Everyone had to discover the value of discretion at some point. That said, Perseus knew a losing proposal when he met one.
  
  Better to run, some tactical decisions would wait until next month...or later than that.
  
  "Short one."
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "The one who was transformed into a hare is coming this way."
  
  Perseus looked behind him...and realised that his training companion was right. Michael Yew was racing down the trail most Greek Demigods used to reach this beach.
  
  "You're right. Thanks for the warning, my friend."
  
  "He does not look happy, short one."
  
  "Has he been happy since the dark days of the Adjudicator Challenge?" The answer, for those who wondered, was 'hell, no'.
  
  To be fair, being transformed into a hare had a way to ruin your life. On the other hand-
  
  "JACKSON! YOU LIED TO ME!"
  
  "Good morning, my long-eared lieutenant! And no, I did not!"
  
  One day, Perseus was going to become the Adjudicator of Truth. It was going to be difficult to achieve, but the idea to screw with everyone by being completely and totally honest was too good to pass.
  
  "YOU TOLD ME I WOULD BE BACK TO MY TRUE BODY ONCE THE SORCERER WAS DEAD!"
  
  "Not so loud," the son of Poseidon complained. What was up with this mad shrieking, by the barnacles of the Atlantic? "Yes, I know I said that. And the Sorcerer of the Coalition isn't dead, is he? There you have it. Case closed."
  
  Exasperation, hatred, and despair fought on the face which had only a few human traits left.
  
  "But the rumours said-"
  
  "Michael, there are rumours that the King of the Gods is going to offer the hand of his divine daughter to me if I accept to save her in a splendid and epic new Great Quest."
  
  Though this specific rumour was one he had decided to spread himself for fun and giggles.
  
  "I would be very wary of what kind of 'rumours' you manage to hear these days. For the record, half of the whispers and tales you can listen to on the Golden Forum or elsewhere are erroneous at best, nonsensical at worse."
  
  Asterius made a grunt of approval, before resuming his running.
  
  Perseus didn't follow, his eyes remaining on the transformed son of Apollo.
  
  "Clytius, Gigantes and self-proclaimed Bane of Magic, is alas not dead. That much is completely confirmed. He was thrown through the Titan's Gate by the Master of Olympus himself, earning himself an involuntary participation to the Titan's Game. Did he get separated from his immortality and the greater part of his divine essence? Yes. Is it enough to shatter his works and every magical crime he ever committed? Clearly not."
  
  One phone call to Medea had been enough to confirm that yes, the third Immortal Sorceress was still cursed to be into a Centaur body.
  
  "I thought...I deserved to be back into my human body!"
  
  "Deserved?" Former Tyrant he may be, but there were a few assertions way too outrageous not to comment about them. "My long-eared lieutenant, you did exactly nothing to contribute to the recent woes of the Coalition. You stayed barricaded in your villa-palace when we went to participate in this gallant and heroic adventure to New York, and I didn't see a sign of your existence when we slaughtered tens of thousands of Emus!"
  
  "I participated in this nightmare of a Great Quest!" The Blue Hare snapped back. "I have done enough!"
  
  Fate may not be of the same opinion...and no, he wasn't going to say that aloud.
  
  But back to the important issue.
  
  Perseus was quasi-certain the death of Clytius was a condition sine qua non to reverse the multiple animal transformations inflicted upon hundreds, maybe thousands of victims.
  
  The big interrogation point was: was it the only condition, or the first step?
  
  The more he thought about it, the more Perseus felt they may need a true usurpation of the 'Bane of Hecate' to get the full magical toolbox and reverse what needed to be cancelled.
  
  Needless to say, this would be far from simple...
  
  "Do something! I deserve it!" Ah, the arrogance of Demigods. Did someone wonder why certain heroes after Apotheosis got such a big head? The answer, as always, was that it had been there all along.
  
  "I did something, if you remember. I saved your life, and won the Great Quest. You are welcome, by the way."
  
  "Welcome? WELCOME? I AM A HARE!"
  
  "And some Huntresses got turned into Nemean Lionesses, but you don't see them sending me complaint e-mails every twelve hours these days. Your ingratitude weighs deeply on my soul, Michael."
  
  "I WILL GIVE YOU SOME INGRATITUDE, FIEND!"
  
  The Blue Hare tried to jump...and instantly stopped his attempt when a giant head emerged from the waves on his right flank.
  
  "You stand in the presence of Queen Zenobia the Second!" the Carthaginian Hydra began. "No one expects the Hydra Inquisition! Our two chief weapons are surprise, fear, and ruthless efficiency. Wait, that makes it three weapons..."
  
  "ARRGGGHHH! A HYDRA!"
  
  Michael Yew ran like all the monsters of Creation were on his heels. And a hare could jump and run really fast, it looked like.
  
  In thirty seconds, he had climbed and disappeared behind the hills bordering the beach.
  
  "Was it something I said?" Zenobia asked with a phenomenal dose of curiosity.
  
  "Oh, no. It was just that this poor lieutenant is lost on the path of life, and urgently needs some vigorous guidance."
  
  18 July 2007, the Directorial Palace, New Byzantium
  
  This was not every day you could eat your lunch at the table of a palace floating several hundred metres above New Byzantium.
  
  Then again, it was not every day the God of Madness and Wine invited you to a 'working lunch' in his principal residence - for the City of Demigods, at least.
  
  It was the first day Perseus got this 'honour' - accuracy was important.
  
  If this didn't say anything about the swamp Olympus had buried itself into, nothing would.
  
  The food was good.
  
  The circumstances weren't.
  
  "The Coalition has decided to open some negotiations."
  
  It resulted in a simple shrug on his part.
  
  "One might hope Olympus will not fall again for the bluffs of the Sire and his henchmen."
  
  "One might hope, yes. That said, the Sire is not going to be present. He is the Referee, and can't leave Kyushu anymore until the Game is officially declared over." Dionysus emptied enough wine to get a Minotaur dead drunk. "Of course, that leaves the Monster of Monsters."
  
  "That promises to be interesting, all right."
  
  "More than you know, Perseus Jackson. With all the other Lords of the Coalition neutralised, she is certainly going to be the Mistress of the Games."
  
  "That's one of the three big positions when it comes to these slaughterhouses, right?" the God of Parties nodded. "She wants to write the scenario of the Titan's Game. This is bad."
  
  "It can give you a chance too. As vicious as she is, the 'scenario', as you call it, can't be changed during the Game itself. And the Mistress of the Games is sworn to stay out of it, meaning she will have to wait until the end before intervening one more time. You could-"
  
  "No." Perseus stopped Dionysus before the idea could gain more traction. "I will not. I am not suicidal, for one. Moreover, playing a game with someone who can virtually create a near-infinite amount of monsters in the next several months sounds to me like a horrible idea. The kind of idea that sends someone to an early grave."
  
  "The Mother of Monsters can only create monsters which currently exist in this era."
  
  That explained so much.
  
  "Thus the expensive efforts of Commodus and other parties to crossbreed several nasty creatures. The Stymphalian Emus weren't an accident at all; they were the test-bed for an entire strategy."
  
  As a schemer, Perseus could appreciate the ambition behind the plan. The monsters you could field weren't enough? Order your minions to create new ones. Once the final prototypes were truly competitive, you could give 'birth' to an army worth of them.
  
  As a Demigod having survived two Great Quests though, the Lord of the Suicide Squad knew deep in his guts that it translated into an ugly reality. The monsters the participants of the Titan's Game would face were completely unknown to New Byzantium and Olympus. Commodus' Games and the Third Emu War had been about using some dangerous species, but the ones which were not part of the plan.
  
  Even the Gods didn't know what Apollo and Artemis would face on Kyushu Island.
  
  "No. I am not going to plunge my head into the trap, knowing the guillotine blade is seconds away from striking."
  
  "I had to try," the Olympian said, not looking at all disappointed.
  
  "Orders from above?"
  
  "Orders from above, yes. My Father is making a big effort to save the Twins." This conversation had to be listened to, of course. It was no accident the Palace had risen in the sky...
  
  "It is to his honour," Perseus answered truthfully. "I just don't really see what really can be done. I can't believe I say this, but the Sea of Monsters at least was a known quantity. Plenty of Demigods and other heroes had sailed through it in the past before. Everyone was familiar with the Ancient Laws. The Triumvirate had resource limits. The Titaness we faced was more inclined to test us than to exterminate us. The most important stuff undoubtedly was our pre-Quest knowledge of the Zone Mortalis, though."
  
  This time, the Coalition had not decided to invite them in one.
  
  Unless Perseus was badly mistaken, they really intended to create from scratch a new Zone Mortalis.
  
  It completely changed the nature of the challenges and the foes.
  
  "Many factions are whispering certain sacrifices will have to be made." Dionysus admitted. "Though not where my Father can hear them, obviously."
  
  "Obviously," he nodded, showing a mask of reluctance and wisdom.
  
  Besides the urge to not earn a demotion or two from Zeus, Apollo and Artemis had Thrones among the Council. If they managed to emerge from the Titan's Game victorious and in possession of all their divine might, it would be incredibly inconvenient to have argued for letting them die without raising a single finger.
  
  Still, the odds weren't good at all.
  
  They were really, really bad, if you felt honest enough to analyse the situation coldly and impartially.
  
  "One can only hope the Coalition will be in the mood for big concessions during the negotiations." The God sipped his wine.
  
  "I wouldn't count on it too much."
  
  "Your intuition?"
  
  "No, simple facts. They may have several of their high-ranking leadership figures trapped in it, but according to my Lord Uncle, they won't be able to repeat a Titan's Game anytime soon after it. And the speed they moved after Commodus died twice strongly suggests they're acting on a schedule which is suffering from heavy time limitations."
  
  Plus this convenient alliance of villains and monsters was a Coalition. It was in the name, seriously.
  
  That some may lose their lives in the service of a higher goal would not deter the survivors.
  
  "This is a cold-blooded assessment." The Olympian stated before grimacing. "Unfortunately, the two Lords of the Coalition who remain are noted to be very cold-blooded foes indeed. They won't want to see all their 'investments' used up for no gains on the battlefield."
  
  "Speaking of gains..."
  
  "Yes, your retribution mission has been approved. As long as you remain discreet."
  
  Perseus cackled. Asterius was going to be so disappointed...
  
  20 July 2007, Blofeld Investment Group, Switzerland
  
  The walls shook again.
  
  It was like the end of the world had come, and his ears were in pain.
  
  Mister White - who was not his real name, but the one Lord Goldfinger had chosen for him when the Blofeld Investment Group was officially born - desperately fought against the urge to hide under his desk.
  
  Instead, he called up a new number.
  
  "This is Mister White of Base Silver-One-Diamond. We have a Case Black here! I need urgent reinforcements immediately!"
  
  The communication line beeped...and no one answered.
  
  Damn it, what was happening? Fast, he typed in the emergency number he had been given by some of his 'partners'.
  
  "Base Silver-One-Diamond. We are under attack! Please, answer! The situation is catastrophic on the ground! We are under attack! It's the Suicide Squad!"
  
  "Are you certain?"
  
  At last! At last someone was answering!
  
  "Of course I am certain! How can one miss this infernal bastard spawn of Poseidon? He is dragging my associates out of the building before torturing them in the big fountain! They're spilling everything they know, including our off-shore accounts in the Bahamas and other fiscal paradises!"
  
  A new explosion came, as devastating as the previous one.
  
  "And my security service is unable to stop the penguins!" Mighty Titans, in which world these words made all too much sense? "We need reinforcements! The mercenaries I threw against them are decimated, and it is only a question of minutes until they reach the vaults! I need troops to teleport here and launch a decisive counter-attack!"
  
  "Base Silver-One-Diamond...two-thirds of your assets was withdrawn in May. Correct?"
  
  "Correct," wait a minute why did the female at the end of the line did ask this? "But we still have an important vault of Imperial Gold in our custody. Imperial Gold valued about one hundred million Drachmas! It was Mister Goldfinger's non-discretionary orders that they be defended to the death!"
  
  "Hmm...yes. You have my permission to do so. Fight to the death, and begin to activate the self-destruction protocols. You might not be able to take one member of the Suicide Squad, but you can at least deny them the Imperial Gold."
  
  What?
  
  Surely...he hadn't heard right. Right?
  
  "Lady, we are faithful employees of the Coalition and Lord Goldfinger..."
  
  "You are liars and crooks, whose love of Pyramid schemes to steal the money of naive mortals is only matched by your greed to always try to obtain more loot, more plunder, and more blood-covered gold. If there was a way to birth Greed-aligned monsters from your very soul, I assure you I would have done it centuries ago."
  
  Too late, way too late, Mister White understood what kind of a mistake it had been to accept the devilish bargains offered by these monsters.
  
  "This is my will. I am Echidna. Destroy the Imperial Gold, and kill yourselves."
  
  The communication ended.
  
  For all he tried to resist, Mister White began to type a code on his computer that he had sworn to never use.
  
  No, no, no!
  
  And then like a miracle, a storm of sand hit, the machine switched off, and control of his limbs came back.
  
  The banker laughed hysterically.
  
  "Saved! I am saved!"
  
  "I will admit, it's not exactly the kind of reaction I obtain when I go somewhere and proceed to steal some important things."
  
  Mister White raised his head, and faced a red eye, one shining with infernal deviousness.
  
  "I...I will tell you everything I know?"
  
  "Yes," the teenager who could be no one but Perseus Jackson smiled with a smugness that should be forbidden inside a financial establishment. "Yes, you will."
  
  20 July 2007, Akasaka Palace, Minato, Tokyo, Japan
  
  If it had been up to her, Nike wouldn't have accepted the Akasaka Palace as the chief location for the negotiations.
  
  It wasn't just that the Coalition sullied the state guest house of Japan by its mere existence.
  
  The gall of demanding to negotiate in a room built by mortals when you had effectively stolen ten millions of their subjects and an enormous island part of their nation was giving a new definition to the word 'outrageous'.
  
  Above all, negotiating with them inside the Akasaka Palace instead of some anonymous villa was tantamount to recognising the Coalition as their equals.
  
  And they weren't.
  
  The doors opened, to reveal Echidna.
  
  Nike frowned.
  
  She had predicted the Mother of Monsters would come; what she hadn't anticipated was the Titaness dressing like a barbarian Queen.
  
  It was a far truer statement than hiding behind nun clothes, which was what she had done before...but it remained a curious statement.
  
  It appeared the Mother of Monsters had killed a giant white wolf, and then used everything, fur and other parts, to make herself a coat and furred boots.
  
  Upon her head, an ugly crown of iron completed this vision promising nothing but violence.
  
  As her enemy arrived a couple of steps away from the seat prepared for her, the Goddess of Victory became more and more displeased.
  
  There were two reasons for that.
  
  One was that the Titaness wore clearly nothing under her fur coat. This event was supposedly critical for every party, and she treated it like that? It was an insult...
  
  Second point, and it was far more of a crude insult, the essence of the wolf which had been slain smelled like Lupa. This had been a member of her Pack...one which had no doubt been slain in the skirmishes which preceded the general assault against New Byzantium.
  
  "I am almost in the mood to leave, and watch as your fellow 'Lords of the Coalition' are slaughtered one by one in the so-called Game you organised."
  
  "I can't stop you, I suppose." The eyes were the essence of every being, and those irises were absolutely monstrous. "That said, I want to point out that if we use the old scenario Midas and Prometheus wanted to implement with such fiery passion, Apollo will not survive forty-eight hours."
  
  "Apollo? Not Artemis?"
  
  "Given his nature," Echidna said smoothly, "Apollo earned himself a death which will be painful but quick. Artemis...the Coalition Lords were in agreement: she was to suffer."
  
  Evidently, the Mother of Monsters had little reason to be truthful. Yet when it came to these revelations, she had little reason to lie, either.
  
  "Yet according to the 'story' you wrote for them, they won't be the only ones to die. Your co-conspirators will follow them into the grave soon enough."
  
  "Yes," the hair of her enemy changed colour to become the very shade of blonde she had chosen this morning. The effect was...unpleasant. It was like facing a cousin, though one which had chosen a barbaric pelt instead of her hoplite armour adapted to modern times. "I won't pretend this is a favour. If I could modify the...the 'plot' of the Titan's Game without the King of Titans' approval, I would do it in a heartbeat. Alas, I can't, and neither can Python."
  
  "You can't cancel the Titan's Game now, but you could organise something which would place the 'Fools' you chose to oppose the Twins at our mercy."
  
  "Must we play that game?" Echidna gave her a dark smile, one where the annoyance was nothing but a cloud of smoke. "We could do many things if we were motivated. There are limits, however, to how much we're willing to budge. Losing eight Lords of our Coalition would be eminently regrettable. But I can assure you, oh Goddess of Victory: if our allies die, Apollo, Artemis, and all the other parties who are currently under an enchanted sleep in the City of the Titan's Game will follow them within the year. It will likely hurt us more than it maims Olympus. However, when the Game will be over, Hyperion will rise as the Titan of the Sun reborn, and Theia as the Titaness of the Moon. And we will support them in the world war they will wage against Zeus and every deity rallying to the Master Bolt."
  
  Was it a bluff? Unfortunately, all her instincts told her that no, it wasn't.
  
  Olympus had no way to stop them if the old 'plot' did continue as intended.
  
  And in a way...it wouldn't really matter who was the next Titan of the Sun to rise above the ashes of Kyushu. Because it wouldn't be someone loyal to Olympus, and the same could be said for the Titaness of the Moon.
  
  "This could be acknowledged as the truth." She coldly answered. "Olympus has no reason to tolerate a massacre where Apollo and Artemis, in addition to other prestigious hostages, are slaughtered like pigs at one of your ugly sacrificial altars."
  
  "Yes, I suppose Hades and Poseidon would not enjoy learning that due to certain misfortunes, their daughters are going to be the stars of some very bloody adventures."
  
  "You are the ones who threw those Demigoddesses in a nightmare very few mortals will escape."
  
  "That's what facts say, yes. The hearts...the hearts are a different matter. Emotions will run hot, and the Grand Alliance of Olympus, Atlantis, and Cthonia may not survive the next couple of years."
  
  Nike really, really wanted to tear the head of the Titaness from her shoulders now.
  
  "What changes are you ready to propose?"
  
  "Though Thanatos was alas defeated by Zeus...we can still indirectly 'wield' his power in the manner Atlas did when he was the one playing Referee long ago. How would the Demigods describe it these days? Ah, yes. We can offer 'extra-lives'."
  
  "You do not use the term 'free resurrections'?" she wondered aloud.
  
  Echidna's smile grew wider.
  
  "Those are definitely resurrections, but we will not make them 'free'." The Mother of Monsters shrugged. "I think we can both agree that doing this will definitely give better chances of survival to the allies we want to be seen protecting during the Titan's Game."
  
  It was somewhat the truth. What the Titaness didn't say aloud, obviously, that the 'Game's plot' could have its lethality levels raised to new summits, since the Coalition now would definitely be able to afford several deaths per individual trapped within the hell of Kyushu.
  
  "Zeus desires to add Cupbearers to the Titan's Game. He noticed you didn't create them this time around."
  
  "Of course not," Echidna didn't even waste a second pretending innocence. "We wanted an unholy carnage and two Olympians at our mercy faster than you could say it."
  
  "Am I supposed to rejoice?" The Goddess of Victory asked drily.
  
  "No, you were just supposed to watch powerlessly. Anyway! I suppose my husband hasn't forgotten that if we offer Cupbearers, it is for every Fool, not just the ones that are convenient for him?"
  
  "He remembers." Nike tried to keep her expression serene, not showing the fury she felt at the words 'my husband'. "Zeus reminds you too that your impartiality forces you to begin by a contest where candidate-Cupbearers are presented to the twelve souls you made part of the wager for the Sun and the Moon."
  
  "I hadn't forgotten." The Mother of Monsters was, it seemed, amused by the forceful point. "Anything else?"
  
  "You will be not given the opportunity to reinforce the 'Monster Caste' you hid somewhere in the forests and mountains of Kyushu. We of Olympus all know that for all your insistence on 'Fools', 'Warriors', and 'Slaves', you added the 'Monsters' to it. You couldn't have given your consent to a Titan's Game without them."
  
  "It is entirely possible, yes."
  
  "And speaking of 'Warriors', it is unacceptable the Coalition was able to send five thousand of them, limiting the participation of other parties to a few hostages. For this game to be fair and Cupbearers to be suitable, reinforcements must be sent."
  
  Echidna's eyes remained dead for a moment.
  
  When she spoke, the tone was far more thoughtful.
  
  "I will have to consult some of my lieutenants and allies before giving an answer."
  
  "I expected that much," the Queen of the Gods rose from her seat. "Same place tomorrow, same hour. Don't be late."
  
  Nike began to leave. She wasn't worried about the room suffering sabotage or something nefarious: Demeter and Poseidon had promised to purify it and check the Coalition was not trying to use the Palace as the beginning of an old-fashioned stab in the back.
  
  The Goddess didn't manage to reach the doors before the melodious voice of Echidna echoed against them.
  
  "You are the Seventh, you know."
  
  "Was it supposed to bring screams of betrayal to my lips?" she caustically replied. "My husband didn't hide it from me."
  
  Nike admitted it was with a certain amount of vengeful joy she spoke the next words.
  
  "He doesn't love you. No matter how much you dream of his return, he won't. You aren't going to fill the gaping hole in his heart."
  
  "Do you think I don't know that?" Yes! She had drawn blood. "The difference between you and I, is that I know it is entirely possible no one will ever be able to fill this abyss he tries so hard to pretend doesn't exist. The Demi-Titaness who should have been his First Wife died before my eyes during the Titan's Game of Liberation and Expiation. She died, and Zeus never really healed from it."
  
  The eyes of the Titaness weren't just monstrous; they were the essence of ruthlessness.
  
  "No one will ever be able to save him, and I am not certain he wants to be healed anymore. Is it not better for this entire tragedy to end?"
  
  "Not if the price is your band of monsters and evil plotters destroying the world while pretending to do us some favour!" Nike spat.
  
  And she stormed out of the room.
  
  22 July 2007, the Southern Walls under repairs, New Constantinople
  
  It was Nina who opened her mouth first to grumble again.
  
  "What are we doing on this construction site? It is brute's work-"
  
  "Be quiet and transport the sand in your wheelbarrow!" a Legionnaire monitoring them barked.
  
  "Nina is right," Irene whispered to Zoë.
  
  The First Lieutenant of the Hunt gave a silent glare to her fellow officer.
  
  For some reason, the two had failed to say anything when Hermes had come to announce their punishment.
  
  "We have to obey the orders coming from Olympus," the former Hesperides declared as she unloaded the content of her own wheelbarrow, enlarging further the size of the mountain of sand which was going to be used by the freemasons to rebuild the walls nearby. "Our latest actions have made us extremely vulnerable. And Lady Artemis is currently unable to protect us."
  
  "I'm still saying we could do more!"
  
  Irene blushed when Zoë gave her a piercing glare.
  
  "I know we can't sail for Kyushu. The Gods fear to move anywhere close to these thoroughly accursed lands. That said, surely there is something we can do to help our Lady!"
  
  Yes, they could, and it was called 'not attracting more unfavourable attention than they already had'.
  
  Unfortunately, Zoë didn't really believe it would suffice for Irene or Nina.
  
  "What is your solution?" she spoke instead. "Powerful artefacts or strange rituals will not work. The entire island of Kyushu is now saturated with a Mist that only obeys its own rules and the influence of the never-damned-enough Coalition Lords. Everyone I would love to slay and carve apart is out of reach. To throw a thousand pieces of the Sire of the Drakons into the Pit is impossible when it is already hiding somewhere on Kyushu."
  
  If there had been a tiny chance of freeing Lady Artemis, thousands of Huntresses would have charged westwards within the hour, Olympian orders or not.
  
  The chances weren't tiny though; they were null and void.
  
  As much as she refused to admit it out loud, Zoë had looked at the Suicide Squad before acting. The reaction had been telling. When Jackson and his band of walking disasters openly said that it was way too dangerous, it was best to listen to them.
  
  "I'm much more worried about our sisters," Zoë spoke again after several rotations spent transporting stones, sand, and various metallic tools. "Morale is getting worse."
  
  To this, Irene had nothing to offer but a scowl and silence.
  
  Yes, the revelation the Coalition had not been shy spreading the news that without the capture of the Nexus Theatre, they couldn't have begun their bloody accursed 'Titan's Game'. And who had allowed them to capture it by inaction? Yes, it was the Huntresses of Artemis.
  
  In their blindness, they had betrayed their Goddess.
  
  Many of their sisters - coincidentally the ones which had been the most eager to slaughter the Emus - weren't taking it well.
  
  "I should be out there slaying monsters!" Yes, it was Lieutenant Nina continuing to seethe and rage. Predictably-
  
  "BE QUIET!" yes, there was a Legionnaire to remind her some discipline was demanded of them.
  
  A second later, cheers rose from the north.
  
  Zoë believed at first it was just a sports event or some kind of special announcement, but there were a few fireworks in the next heartbeats...wait, were all those fireworks orange?
  
  "That's Perseus Jackson and his penguins walking through the gap where the Aquila Gate was," Olivia seemed to materialise on her right. "They're back."
  
  "I wasn't even aware they were gone," the First Lieutenant replied honestly. Yes, unlike some of her sisters, she had not tried to stalk the different members of the Suicide Squad before the punishments fell. She had far better things to do than that.
  
  "Well, they're back, and with two trucks transporting an insane tonnage of Imperial Gold and precious resources!" Olivia gave her a murderous expression. "Just think of all the furry cloaks, explosive arrows, and boots we could have purchased with a bounty like that!"
  
  That Olivia had emerged as the most 'pro-Byzantium Lieutenant' from this entire debacle was not in question. Though to be fair to her, she had certainly that status before the theft of the Master Bolt many months ago.
  
  Now? Hundreds of Huntresses had decided to side with her, including the near-entirety of the contingent Britomartis had sent to fight with them.
  
  "Where did this Imperial Gold come from in the first place?" the Huntresses didn't use the metal in the first place, but she knew the utmost majority of the supply came from Olympus.
  
  "I didn't speak with them, but I can guess. The Coalition Lords are trapped on Kyushu. That means a lot of vaults and treasury chests must be lightly guarded at the moment."
  
  Olivia glared.
  
  "And by the fault of some stupid hens too busy hating males, I have lost the opportunity to buy myself an entirely new wardrobe of fur and scales..."
  
  The lack of discretion was evident, and of course Nina heard her.
  
  "What did you say, you cow?"
  
  "I'm telling you your strategic incompetence has resulted in plenty of courageous Huntresses being excluded from our rightful share of spoils. Was it not clear, your Harpy?"
  
  Mercifully, they were not armed with bows; as such there were no severe injuries.
  
  It still took ten Legionnaires to separate the two Lieutenants in the end.
  
  25 July 2007, the Council Room, Olympus
  
  That he was summoned more and more frequently to Olympus was not something Perseus had missed.
  
  Some arrogant Demigods would have called it flattering.
  
  The former Tyrant preferred to call it for what it was: the crises were piling up faster and faster with every month, and the services of the Suicide Squad were in high demand.
  
  Otherwise, Olympus would never have invited any Demigods to be present, least of all him.
  
  Perseus knew they loved to call him mad at New Byzantium, but he wasn't crazy enough to state Zeus loved his shenanigans. Some people among the Council were his allies, depending on the circumstances. The King of the Gods wasn't.
  
  Of course, he wasn't the only Demigod to be summoned today. Thalia and Jason Grace were there too. Nepotism had its advantages, right? And to represent the rest, they had three Roman Tribunes plus one Legate. Richard and Luke finished this procession, their status of powerful heroes and members of the Suicide Squad having earned them this invitation.
  
  "The Sire of the Drakons and the Mother of Monsters are negotiating in good faith," Nike, Goddess of Victory, spoke for the Council once the courtesies were over. "However they can't disguise the fact that they're only trying to save some of their fellow Lords. Which ones? I have no idea. But their insistence from the very beginning that they were not going to sacrifice the Titan of Light and the Titaness of Splendour in exchange for Prometheus and his co-conspirators trapped inside the Titan's Game was particularly telling. The Titaness and the Drakon are ready to lose some of them if it allows them to achieve their goals."
  
  Perseus appreciated the ruthlessness involved. Although it wasn't too surprising. Trapping two Olympians like the Coalition did was extremely hard. It wasn't the stroke of luck which had seen Ares and Hephaestus go down. If Apollo and Artemis were freed, it might take millennia before their captors were able to ambush them successfully again.
  
  "They still have to make a good show of trying to 'save' Midas and all the others," Luke pointed out in their name. "They have to, if they don't want to sink what remains of their reputation. If they're not willing to rescue their allies from a trap they themselves triggered, no one will ever ally with them again."
  
  His heroic lieutenant was right. Gods could forgive the minor issue of sending a massive Emu Army against New Byzantium. They couldn't forget the fact that if something inconvenient happened, the Coalition Lords would be ready to throw you from the top of a cliff in haste, just to save their precious skins.
  
  "This is correct," Nike raised her eyes from the roll of parchment she was reading. "This is why they're offering that resurrections be part of the Titan's Game, despite it not being allowed in the original scenario they had prepared."
  
  What?
  
  No, he wasn't the only one to show expressions of surprise.
  
  "Forgive me, Lady Nike," the former Tyrant intervened, "but I was under the impression that death, once it came for us Demigods, was...extremely permanent."
  
  "It is usually the case," the Goddess...didn't reassure him. "The Titan's Games are a notable exception, though with the caveat for anyone with a brand to resurrect, the Titan of Death had to be involved. Now it is the God of Death, of course."
  
  "He is trapped with the other Warrior participants," Richard said.
  
  "His Domain can be used to enforce a decree of the Titan's Game, in an indirect fashion." Zeus rumbled.
  
  Damn.
  
  It was...it changed a lot of things...for the worse.
  
  Perseus had not seen it coming, because seriously, Death was Death, and except Catherine-Thalia in this room, no one regularly tried to batter Choirs into submissions until they offered you a free resurrection.
  
  His experience on Calernia, peerless jewel of Creation, had told him to be wary of things that were too good to be true...because they generally were.
  
  "There is no way they will make the resurrections free." Yes, he spoke with utter certainty on this. "Each time someone dies, there will be a price to pay. Mental or physical, I don't know, but it will be there."
  
  That no Olympian spoke in the next five seconds to tell him he was paranoid enough. Target hit, dead centre.
  
  "I'm also suspicious about the motives. Yes, it could be about saving their fellow Lords of the Coalition. It also could be a bait to convince powerful Demigods, Legacies, and other highly-skilled mortals to try their luck with the Titan's Game, convincing them that with the resurrections available, they have a chance. Whereas on the battlefield, nothing could be further from the truth. The Coalition, in the end, has only to prepare a few Labours where it is guaranteed resurrections will be used by the dozens per individual."
  
  One had to evaluate the 'Game' seriously for what it was. If the attack on Fimbulvetr had been part of the Titan's Game, Khione wouldn't have been able to help them, and the 'rules' most likely would have forced thousands to descend into the depths of the Forge, making sure hundreds at the very least died to fight the Primordial Drakon of Ice.
  
  "The rules of the Titan's Game force its architects to present a scenario where its participants can win without dying."
  
  That wasn't a reassurance at all, once again. In three seconds, Perseus could imagine some tricks to technically fulfil the 'you have a chance of winning' while in the real world, everyone would die in droves.
  
  "It can't be just it," one of the Roman officers behind him spoke. "As the son of Poseidon said, rising the difficulty in certain conditions will erase most of the advantages."
  
  "The Coalition won't be able to bring more monsters than they already have mustered at Kyushu." Demeter explained.
  
  Perseus snorted.
  
  "The Coalition has effectively kidnapped largely over ten million mortals and will brand them as 'Slaves of the Titan's Game', assuming it is not done already. It may be my paranoia speaking, but given how many Emus they were ready to sacrifice lately, I don't think Prometheus would have hesitated a single second making contingencies to transform them all into monsters."
  
  Once again, silence was worth approval. Right?
  
  "You are correct," the Master of Olympus acknowledged at last. "It is not enough."
  
  This was a point for honesty...and it really emphasized how completely crazy these 'Titan's Games' were: resurrections, yes, several acts of coming back from the dead, were not enough to guarantee victory.
  
  "This was why," the Lord of the Sky continued, his unhappiness evident to all. "We tried to negotiate with the Coalition to restore the act of a Claimant-Fool to take a Cupbearer, like it was done in the last Titan's Games."
  
  "And the Coalition refused?" Richard guessed.
  
  "They accepted," the King of Gods corrected. "But they imposed several conditions. If Cupbearers were to be a reality, it would be like in the old days where the Crooked One was King. This meant the first real 'Trial' of the Titan's Game would be all about the selection of Cupbearers."
  
  "That doesn't sound too bad," someone whispered...too loudly. Zeus heard it.
  
  "The Victor becomes the Cupbearer. The defeated participants become his Slaves."
  
  So yes, it was that bad.
  
  "As I was saying, they were conditions. One of them was to do everything traditionally. The other was that the Coalition is trying to spray its venom everywhere they want. During the negotiations, they were very clear they want Bianca di Angelo, daughter of my brother Hades, to participate into the contest to become a Cupbearer of Artemis."
  
  "Ouch! Our dear Lightning Thief isn't going to like that at all..."
  
  Wait a minute. Had he said this aloud? Ah, hell. Yes, he did.
  
  Well, that was the truth. And Bianca wasn't here. She had 'forgotten' to answer the summons of Olympus, and it wasn't the first time.
  
  "The Coalition also want you, Perseus Jackson, to make the attempt to become the Cupbearer of Apollo."
  
  Uh. That...that was a beautiful trap, all right. After trying to make sure the Suicide Squad and himself weren't a factor, the provocation was delivered like that.
  
  No way it wasn't a trap.
  
  "Err...for those who are a bit lost like me, what exactly is a Cupbearer?"
  
  "Yes, what is a Cupbearer?"
  
  Thalia didn't know if it was because being a daughter of Zeus had its privileges, but the Lord of the Sky answered.
  
  "A Cupbearer is a codified variant of Champion. It was specifically invented for the Titan's Games. Unlike the Champions some of you are familiar with, it can be cancelled after one year, or at the end of the Game, assuming both parties are still alive to make that decision."
  
  "I don't understand how it will improve the chances of survival," Perseus Jackson had not lost his very skeptical expression. "The Claimants who were Gods and Goddesses are now mortal. This entirely destroys the concept of an immortal being empowering his or her Champions. They won't have access to their own Domains; how can any boon be given when they are none in the cupboard?"
  
  "Good analysis," Athena intervened. "The short answer is that the Fool-Claimant and the Cupbearer are tied magically by a ritual. When the former devours a part of the Wager, in this Titan's Game about to begin that means a part of the Sun or the Moon, the Cupbearer will be imbued with a sliver of that divine power. While I have been unable to properly measure the phenomenon, since I wasn't born when the last Titan's Game took place, I estimate ninety-five percent of the power goes to the Claimant, and five percent to the Cupbearer."
  
  Thalia blinked as she assimilated the revelation coming from her half-sister Goddess.
  
  That was...that was colossal.
  
  Evidently, the Coalition was going to hand out scraps and crumbs of power first, but in case of success, the spoils of victory for a Cupbearer were five percent of the Sun or the Moon.
  
  All right, no one had won a Titan's Game so far, but come on! It was time to change that, and prove that all the demons and armies of this world wouldn't stop them.
  
  "The Cupbearer is also acting as a Warlord for the Claimant he is the Champion of. He is enforcing his authority, recruiting for his armies, and spreading the worship of the future Titan. It is a long list of duties and privileges, some of which are in general granted to a High Priest of a deity."
  
  The Tyrant, if anything, was even more displeased by those words. Thalia wasn't seeing why. Yes, there always were drawbacks, but this time, the advantages seemed incredibly good! That-
  
  "What sort of ritual allows such a powerful magical bond to be forged?"
  
  Ah.
  
  Yes, she had kind of forgotten that not-so-little issue.
  
  By the way the Olympians exchanged glances, it was hardly something small.
  
  Ultimately, it was Poseidon, the Tyrant's father in this life, who was designated to answer.
  
  "You are pouring your blood into a chalice, and then exchanging it with the one you will become Champion of. And then you drink." The Lord of the Seas declared.
  
  "What?" One of the Romans gasped. "This is-"
  
  "This is just the first step, yes." The Master of the Trident nodded grimly. "Once the Blood Exchange is done, you are magically exchanging one of your eyes with each other. This is the Exchange of Flesh."
  
  Suddenly, becoming a Cupbearer felt definitely like an ambition that needed further brainstorming.
  
  "But-"
  
  "Third and last, the Exchange of Soul comes, which is enforced by an Oath." Poseidon finished. "This is necessary to prepare the Cupbearer, for otherwise his body would be unable to handle the strain when imbued with the Domain."
  
  "If the Claimant-Fool dies, the Cupbearer will immediately follow him in the grave, resurrection or not." Perseus Jackson remarked. And yes, just like that, Thalia knew the Tyrant had made his choice, and it would be a big 'NO!'
  
  It appeared that no matter how much power was offered on a golden tray, there were limits to what the Tyrant was willing to endure.
  
  "The reverse is equally true, son of my brother," the Master of Olympus acted like a statue of marble which had only the slightest signs of animation. "A Claimant has slightly better chances of survival, but it is not that better. And even if you survive...it is agony beyond your imagination."
  
  Yes, it explained so much. Her genitor had experienced it firsthand...how the hell had he been able to survive to get out of the Titan's Game, by the way? Flesh, Blood and Soul all plunged into dire torment didn't let you keep much of your sanity...
  
  "But not everyone can become a Cupbearer, no matter what the Coalition will love to pretend," the King of Gods' conviction flooded back. "Yes, everyone can drink from the Blood Chalice, and every mortal can make an Oath. That much is true. As long as one eye can be exchanged, the Exchange of Flesh will function. The soul...the soul is different. There were several hundreds of Cupbearers in my time. And while many died under the fangs of giant sea monsters, or drowned by the furious wrath of the ocean, plenty were torn apart from the inside by the stormy power of the Sky."
  
  Of course. A mere Oath and some soul-contact with someone with a claim to a divine Domain was not enough.
  
  The Cupbearer had to be far more prepared than that. You couldn't walk off in the streets, choose someone randomly, and hope for the best. It wasn't going to work.
  
  It was a different aspect of the same problem that the unlamented Emperor Commodus had encountered in his Quest for Godhood. Neither he nor his 'Neo Diana' could handle the divine power they wanted to usurp.
  
  "You were marked by the Sun, Perseus," the muscular son of Hercules remarked.
  
  "Thank you, Richard, I didn't forget the scar the flames of Helios left me as a souvenir." The crimson eye turned towards Zeus once more. "The relationship between Claimant and Cupbearer sounds a lot to my ears like certain formal tenets between an Emperor and the Shogun when it came to the Japanese Archipelago. Does the 'Claimant-Emperor' possess the ability to give magically-compelling orders the 'Cupbearer-Shogun' is bound to obey?"
  
  "It does," the King of the Gods replied unflinchingly, "though this number of orders is limited to a small number per day."
  
  Once again, Thalia approved the 'not lying part' - misleading them would make resentment grow, and resourceful Demigods were bound to discover the truth anyway sooner or later.
  
  But it was something no self-respecting Tyrant would ever accept in good grace.
  
  "I see. I am afraid, Lord Zeus, Lord Olympians, that I have to respectfully decline the honour. I bid you good day."
  
  "Well," Dionysus began to distribute cups of Nectar and wine barrels the moment the last Demigod was gone and the doors closed. "That went as well as expected, I suppose."
  
  Yes, it ensured he received a dark glare from his genitor. No, the God of Madness didn't care.
  
  "They all refused, Dionysus."
  
  "Perseus Jackson would never have accepted on such short notice." He wasn't sure about many things when it came to the son of Poseidon, but that? Oh yes, a lot of Drachmas could be gambled without sweating.
  
  "And lying would have been ill-advised." Athena added. "He doesn't trust many of us; it would have been an error to give assurances and then be forced to admit they would be nothing but lies."
  
  "You have a point, Athena, but the reality is still that he refused." The Master of Olympus grumbled. "And when it comes to potential Cupbearers marked by the Sun, we don't have an overabundance of them. That's one of the reasons, I think, why the Coalition named Perseus Jackson in the first place."
  
  "Said proposal was not slapped down immediately because it would provide you a leash," Poseidon said calmly, though his eyes were ones reminding Dionysus of the sea about to explode in fury. "You lied on a single point, brother."
  
  "One lie?" Hermes queried.
  
  Aphrodite laughed.
  
  "The Cupbearer and the Fool-Claimant can indeed break the bond they forged, return the eye to its legitimate owner, and go their own way, but both have to give their approval, not just one party." The Goddess of Love said cheerfully. "I must note though Perseus Jackson likely perceived the lie the moment you uttered it. And it wasn't the reason he refused."
  
  "Indeed," Athena approved. "As far as my agents report, Perseus Jackson's objections are the same as the members of the Suicide Squad: they refuse to go into a Titan's Game where their chances to die are extremely high. Being a Cupbearer increase a bit the odds of getting out alive from this nightmarish slaughter, but not enough."
  
  The grey eyes of the Goddess of Wisdom were cold, very cold.
  
  "We all know in this room that Hyperion will never consent to let a child of your loins, my King, to submit and be accepted as part of his Court. The Coalition made it clear there will be a submission process offered to only one Fool-Claimant per Titan, and the Mother of Monsters will make sure the Lord of Light has alternatives at the end of the Titan's Game. No, Apollo and his Cupbearer, if they survive that far, will have to challenge and kill the Titan."
  
  Which promised to be an extremely daunting Labour, one far harder than all the monster-slaying and monster-taming adventures of Hercules put together.
  
  No, Dionysus wasn't exaggerating.
  
  "Yes. And Artemis and her Cupbearer will have to do the same thing with Theia, Titaness of Splendour."
  
  "Since it is mentioned," Dionysus sipped his wine for a few seconds before speaking again. "Why the daughter of Hades as a Cupbearer? I mean, she's a young female teenager, and she's assuredly a powerful Demigoddess with the skills to protect Artemis. I understand that. But well..."
  
  "She's a sorcerer with no visible love for the beauty of Nature?" Demeter was the one who devoted herself to say the obvious.
  
  "If she hunts something, it is more incredibly powerful magical artefacts, not animals?" Hercules drawled.
  
  "The Huntresses and she are incredibly antagonistic when they breathe the same air?" Aphrodite licked her silvery lips.
  
  "When she tried to usurp Hades, Bianca di Angelo performed an extremely difficult ritual which is known as the Eye of the Dark Moon," Zeus told them, and most Olympians went silent, some due to shock. "And yes, in case you're not yet convinced, Hades and I checked together. His daughter is marked by the Moon."
  
  Since she had bathed into the waters of the Styx after that, it confirmed the Lightning Thief could indeed become a Cupbearer and not lose her life in the weeks after that.
  
  "I suppose that answers all the questions I had." The God of Wine mused. Python must have watched the ritual, and informed the Coalition of his findings.
  
  "Having the qualities expected of a Cupbearer does not mean Hades' daughter is a good choice," Athena declared in her usual 'strategic voice'. "I already have many doubts that a duo Apollo-Perseus Jackson would be able to function as intended, and not disintegrate at the first challenge."
  
  "You worry too much, Athena," Dionysus smirked. "My favourite Herald of Craziness has several penguins and a Carthaginian Hydra to keep Apollo in line."
  
  Athena grimaced.
  
  "Count your blessings," Poseidon seemed to find Athena's annoyance a gift from...Demigods. "He hasn't tried to tame the Stymphalian Emus yet."
  
  The scowl of the Goddess of Owls was particularly impressive, it must be noted.
  
  "My worries are not detached from reality, I assure you. On the other hand, no matter how unsure I am about the compatibility of Apollo with the son of Poseidon, this is nothing to the fears I experience when I calculate the problems that binding Artemis with Bianca di Angelo will cause. The two have monumental egos, and little reason to respect each other. If you throw them together into a Titan's Game, they will murder each other at least once during the first twenty-four hours."
  
  As amusing as the situation could prove for entertainment purposes...Athena was right.
  
  Bianca di Angelo could have been a child of Hecate, the lust for non-magical power aside. She apparently still qualified as a virgin - otherwise Zeus wouldn't have let the idea continue during the negotiations.
  
  She was as far removed as it was possible to be from the Huntresses and all the female Demigoddesses Artemis tolerated the presence of for a few hours.
  
  "It is best to propose someone else." The Goddess of Wisdom argued. "Britomartis would be a satisfying choice. She was a Huntress centuries ago before earning her Apotheosis, she's inside the Titan's Game, and I am confident she will choose to volunteer to become a Cupbearer."
  
  "But is she strong enough to protect my daughter, when her immortal powers are out of reach and most of her skills are denied to her?" Zeus asked.
  
  "One can also argue that a Huntress or any girl with a Huntress career is not the best choice," Nike went on to support her husband. "Setting aside the wishes of the Coalition, the members of the Hunt lately have not exactly covered themselves in glory. The last Great Quest was completed despite the disasters they engineered..."
  
  It was wonderful to hear how many critics were coming out of the woods now that the Saint Lady of the Hunt was no longer there to shut them down.
  
  "Continuing on that path...the quest to hire reinforcements is meeting as many difficulties as the one of the Cupbearers. With the Suicide Squad and the main heroic parties sitting on the sidelines, the number of volunteers so far is close to zero. The Demigods and Legacies of New Byzantium have listened to the poisoned rumours of the Coalition, and they have decided there is enough truth in it to abstain from participating. It is going to be extremely difficult to change that state of affairs..."
  
  27 July 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  "They really tried to convince you to become the Champion of the Sun...I mean of Apollo? I thought my half-sister was trying to make a big joke when she said it?"
  
  Lou Ellen, to her credit, found it still an incredibly funny idea at this hour.
  
  Perseus sniffed disdainfully.
  
  "And what is wrong with becoming the Champion of the Sun, pray tell? I will have you know I would make a perfectly respectable Champion of the Sun!" The Lord of the Suicide Squad grinned. "After all, I already fulfilled the duties of a Champion of Love in a way that left everyone speechless!"
  
  "You betrayed the Goddess of Love in order to achieve the outcome you wanted," his lovely girlfriend reminded him, showing him an expression of fondness tainted by exasperation.
  
  "Details, details," the son of Poseidon chuckled. "And honestly, Lou? It is the role of a Cupbearer which is proposed. It is a far more flexible job than the one Drew and the others got."
  
  "So I was told," the daughter of Hecate nodded. "I confess I am glad you refused. I am...unsure of what a link like that would do to you. Being so close to an Olympian..."
  
  "If you think this is a problem, I would have loved having you next to me when I explained to Bianca what exactly the Coalition has negotiated for." Perseus bared his teeth in a very big smile. "I believe her reaction was...explosive. A large wing of her Palace is now in dire need of renovation."
  
  "Why I am not surprised?" the blonde sorceress breathed very loudly. "This is insane. There, I say it."
  
  "Is it?"
  
  "Unless they drank a certain amount of Potions to give them deep hallucinations, there's no way Olympus can be so blind where your ambitions and loyalties are concerned. And even if they were for you, Perseus, they would have to be complete imbeciles to trust Bianca di Angelo, Lightning Thief extraordinaire."
  
  "They would. The Master of Olympus wouldn't try this if they weren't desperate. But on principle, it is far from insane. Once the Cupbearer ritual is done, the Claimant and the Cupbearer become incredibly close from a physical, mental, and magical perspective. And of course, should Apollo and Artemis recover all their Domains, skills, and powers, the relationship would be closer."
  
  Lou Ellen stared at him silently for long seconds.
  
  "They are gambling that if you all get out alive, the power increase Bianca and you would gain from it would be compensated by the new Orichalcum-strong loyalty you would feel for your new 'patron'. That's...quite a risky strategy."
  
  "It is, and by the way, this confirms in my opinion that the slight lie they sold me was that a Cupbearer could cancel the bond-link on his own. I strongly suspect you need the permission of the God and the Cupbearer at the end of the Titan's Games."
  
  "That could be quite a problem if one dies during it."
  
  "Lou, if one dies, there's a strong chance the second member of the duo will follow them into an unmarked grave within seconds. The Lord of the Sky survived it, but one had to just watch him to know it is an incredibly traumatising experience he still has nightmares about."
  
  The daughter of Hecate rolled her eyes.
  
  "This is one critical reason to refuse the 'honour'."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, this reason comes at the bottom of the list. Being a Cupbearer is frankly not that bad, contrary to the rest of what awaits the participants of a Titan's Game."
  
  His girlfriend's eyes became very thoughtful.
  
  "I thought that thanks to my half-sister and several other...sources, you'd been able to obtain plenty of information about the Titan's Games."
  
  "I did, and that's the exact problem, Lou." The secrets had been fascinating to unearth, for all the bad news they brought with them. "Let's take a nice symbolic example. The City of the Titan's Games. I have reliable witnesses' reports, old documents, and memories of past massacres...I mean, games."
  
  "Yes. What of them?"
  
  "Well, save the fact that a Titan's Game always begins within its walls, there is zero common point between them all. In the last one, the Fools-Claimants came to eat the scraps of the Sky's power, and failed to get access to the secret rooms where the Apocalypse Clock waited for them. The one before that, on the other hand, saw the City completely denied to them. It wasn't a trick to lead them on a false track; the City really didn't serve any purpose save to make a big splash at the start. The third Game I was able to watch? The Titans decided to make it the core of their amusement park. For this one, the bloodbath was entirely focused within the boundaries of the City, and the top of the altar-pyramids were covered in blood by the time it ended. When it came to the Fourth Game, they stayed for three days inside the Dark City, for the first two big Trials, and then were expelled, never to come back. Last but not least, the Fifth Titan's Game saw them invited inside the City...but only on the second, fourth, and sixth months."
  
  There may have been more 'invitations', but no Demi-Titan had survived longer. Incidentally, this may have been the only Game where the Titan controlling the board really went for a long campaign of attrition. The others had all chosen the 'nasty and brutal' slaughter feast.
  
  Anyway, Lou Ellen understood perfectly the message he was trying to convey.
  
  "There is indeed nothing in common for the City of the Titan's Games, and if the only element which is imported every four years can be repurposed like that, then everything else is too different to have a chance of predicting it."
  
  "Pretty much, yes." He agreed. "The Olympians told me that the enemy had not the power to change the scenario once the bell tolls. In my opinion, it is a very, very small consolation, for the options at their disposal are considerably varied and murderous."
  
  "Which is bad?"
  
  "Yes, it is bad, exponentially bad, crazy Emu-level bad."
  
  The five Drakons of Magma that had forced them on a humiliating retreat away from Nexus Hill were nothing compared to the nightmare which did wait on Kyushu.
  
  "There's still something that bothers me, of course."
  
  "Oh, and what it is? They didn't want to name the Penguins as Cupbearers?"
  
  "Perish the thought, Lou Ellen, perish the thought." The former Tyrant had a good snort about that. "No. It's far more serious. The Olympians knew my desire to participate in this Titan's Game is in the negative numbers; that's why they tried to tempt me with power, wealth, treasure, influence, privileges, and more. They want to save Apollo and Artemis, and they aren't bothering too much about the loyalty of the blade which must do it, as long as it cuts."
  
  "Hmm...yes?"
  
  "Why would the Coalition want us as Cupbearers, or as participants in their grand plan?" He asked seriously. "The last time we did a Great Quest, we ended up sending Commodus straight to Hell and the Fields of Punishment. We ruined a lot of their tests, even if they did only ended up losing a few mercenaries, some morons, and a lot of resources. They should urge Olympus to keep us far away from the Titan's Game, not try to open the gates for us. Moreover, they still can count upon the oracles' visions of the Sire of the Drakons. The Great Serpent must be aware, both by his powers and his agents, that we don't have the motivation to rush to the rescue this time."
  
  Of course, it was possible the Coalition had made a mistake. It wouldn't be the first time.
  
  No, it wasn't right. They had the time to recover from the defeat of having at least eight of their Lords trapped in the Titan's Game. Olympus didn't have the means to force them back into a corner and hand them an ultimatum.
  
  They returned to the same big question he had thought of when he heard of the name the first time: what did the Coalition want to achieve by calling up a Titan's Game?
  
  "By this point, it is a very simple binary choice: either they wanted to bring some dissension among the Council, or they're convinced that we're going to accept in the end."
  
  "Something you will never do."
  
  "Lou Ellen...please, never say 'we will never do this'. Fate always listens, you know."
  
  29 July 2007, Forge K-3, Volcano Kilauea, Hawaii
  
  The heat was properly infernal, and absolutely uncomfortable for him personally.
  
  It was still worth enduring it to watch the ingots of Imperial Gold be transformed into proper deadly weapons by the artisans employed by the God of Smiths.
  
  It wasn't the totality of the Imperial Gold that Midas had generously given to his cause, of course. Some tons had gone straight to the Telekhines, others were handed out to the weapon-makers of New Byzantium-Constantinople.
  
  It was still a grand bounty, and it was going to create plenty of monster-killing solutions. The times were dangerous, and the Suicide Squad needed every advantage its members could get their hands, fins, and paws upon.
  
  For a few seconds, his attention was on several dozen giant foundries inflicting inhuman pressure and melting the golden metals.
  
  When he raised his head again, she was here.
  
  "A lot of wealth being turned into weapons of war."
  
  "There is such a thing as being too greedy, my Lady. Besides, one can't exactly protect one's fortune if one is dead."
  
  It was something a few members of the Coalition were going to have to acknowledge when they bled during the Titan's Game. Yes, they were rich. Yes, they had treated their subordinates like slaves, and profited immensely as a result. It would be very cold comfort if they died for good and everyone looted their possessions before moving on.
  
  "You would make a great Champion of the Sun, I think."
  
  Perseus laughed at this one.
  
  "I would make a horrible Champion, thank you very much. I don't find any reason to be interested in poetry, and I am a terrible musician. The penguins sing far better than I do. I don't care much about healing and purification, while archery is someone I never really practised past some initiation lessons."
  
  He clicked his fingers.
  
  "I must admit I find a lot of pleasure in theatrical displays, since it is vital for someone to show a proper performance on the scene before surfing on the waves of success and becoming a talented politician. But the Light? The Sun? The Masculine Beauty? The Logic?"
  
  Perseus snorted.
  
  "No, I don't think I have a lot of passion for plenty of the aforementioned Domains."
  
  "You could influence Apollo." Aphrodite purred, leaving no doubt as to her intentions. She was interested in saving the God of the Sun, but not the one who had departed for the Garden of the Hesperides.
  
  "And he would influence me in return." In all likelihood, the influence would be far more important once Apollo began to regain a significant part of his divine power. Those things went hand-in-hand, after all. "The rewards aren't worth it."
  
  "Ah, but those are very pleasant rewards, no?"
  
  They were. The son of Poseidon was going to be fair to the Olympians: with them ramping up their spheres of influence across the world and establishing more direct control over mortal civilisation, the benefits for the 'hero of the day' could be colossal. Unlike in the Sea of Monsters, the coffers had been refilled by new taxes and other financial operations, and the hour was sufficiently dire for enmities to be hidden under the carpet.
  
  "None of it means anything if we don't survive the Titan's Game. It is not a critic against the Council. They want to save the Twins. Fair is fair. But at some point, one can promise all the Drachmas to exist, and it isn't the reassurance we Demigods seek. A million or a trillion Drachmas don't make a significant difference when your corpse will be devoured by vultures or whatever carrion birds were transported to Kyushu. I know people are repeating it a lot, but it is worth saying it one more time: no Demi-Titan or being having his life-essence trapped into a mortal shell ever won a Titan's Game."
  
  There were survivors, yes. Zeus and Echidna were two of them who were still around.
  
  It was cold comfort when you knew that their 'way out' was denied to you.
  
  "There are other rewards, coming from the Titan's Game itself."
  
  Perseus hadn't heard about that. But he hadn't asked, to be honest.
  
  "I suppose even the Crooked One wanted to motivate his potential recruits, before the Game became an excuse to slaughter the mortals by the thousands."
  
  The Goddess of Love showed him a thin smile.
  
  "Yes. The land chosen to host the Titan's Game was supposed to become the sacred grounds of the victorious Titan, according to the tablets which were found during the sack of Othrys. And the City of the Titan's Game was supposed to shed its unpleasant shell to transform into a fortress-palace worthy of such a prestigious conqueror."
  
  Yes, it made...somewhat sense?
  
  Except, naturally, no one won. Neither Kronos nor his fellow Titans needed to replace the City of the Titan's Game, when the throne of victorious Demi-Titans was empty. Holy and unholy grounds did not create any problems, since the Titans gathered back everything once the participants were dead.
  
  Revealed at the proper time, several Demigods may succumb to the temptation.
  
  "Gemstones, coins, artefacts, weapons, the substances generated by the monsters, and all the monstrous species brought into the 'Domain-Arena' are for the victor to keep."
  
  With the parties having called up the Titan's Game making a big wager of their own no one would succeed.
  
  "I acknowledge the bounty worthy of my attention," the Lord of the Suicide Squad said. "But even disregarding some little things like my diplomatic immunity, how close we came to death during two Great Quests, and other problems...I think I value my humble life far more than a magma chamber-sized vault of unbelievable treasures."
  
  Adding 'Shogun of Kyushu' to his list of titles would be fun, Perseus wasn't going to lie.
  
  But the road to this one had one hundred percent chance of killing him at the moment he was conversing with Aphrodite.
  
  "You didn't come to speak to me only about my reluctance in this matter, my Lady."
  
  "No. There is a far more important issue we must speak about."
  
  29 July 2007, the Chthonian Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  "Stop laughing, Nico!"
  
  "BWHAHAHAHAHA! I CAN'T!"
  
  "WOOF! WOOF!"
  
  "STOP LAUGHING! IT ISN'T FUNNY!"
  
  Nico di Angelo loved his big sis, and he knew that was a serious order.
  
  For the love of his life, he was unable to obey.
  
  His laughter was far too uncontrollable at this point, and the situation way too funny.
  
  Ten seconds later, their faithful Hellhound stormed out of the Palace. It didn't go far, because ten seconds, Perseus arrived, petting her all the way.
  
  "I think I saw several servants of Artemis running away from here. What happened, for the sake of my legendary curiosity?"
  
  "The Huntresses tried to convince my big sister that if she wanted to become the Cupbearer of their Goddess, she had to renounce her 'wicked ways' and swear herself to the Moon!" Nico blurted out before exploding into giggles...again.
  
  "Traitor," Bianca seethed.
  
  The son of Poseidon did not seem troubled by this monumental revelation.
  
  "Should I offer my congratulations or my condolences?"
  
  "RAAAAAGHHH!"
  
  Nico howled in laughter harder.
  
  "I HAVE NEVER BEEN HUMILATED LIKE THAT! WHO DO THOSE USELESS BITCHES THINK THEY ARE? I AM TRIUMPHANT! I CONQUERED A CONTINENT! I DESTROYED A HUNDRED ARMIES! I ENDED SEVERAL EMPIRES, WIPED OUT DOZENS OF CITIES! PEOPLE BEG TO BE GIVEN THE PRIVILEGE OF BENDING THE KNEE IN MY PRESENCE! JOINING THE HUNT AS A MISERABLE PEON! WHO DO THEY THINK I AM?"
  
  "I note," Perseus said in a sarcastic tone which made another explosion more or less inevitable, "you have denied you are guilty of spending your time doing 'wicked stuff'!"
  
  "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
  
  KABOOM!
  
  The explosion came just in time for the blast of red magic to miss his sister's target.
  
  "No, you won't." Perseus Jackson removed the soot and the debris from his orange T-Shirt. "Anyway-"
  
  "Why do people not besiege your Palace and your Enclave? You are a far more suitable candidate as a Cupbearer! You spent most of your Great Quests pretending to be a Champion or usurping the roles of one!"
  
  "Yes, I did." By the smug look alone, Perseus was proud of it. "Whether I am considered a good or a bad candidate for it, though, it must be noted that the God I would be the cupbearer of had many flaws before this year, but he doesn't have a cult in his service. His Demigod children and the Legacies who are around are able to think on their own. If they want to present an alternative, they will push for their candidature or someone else by beseeching an Olympian. One way or another, it won't involve swearing oaths or joining a cult, not immediately at least."
  
  "I hate this," it was a rarity when his big sister placed her head in her hands. "What convinced them this choice was good in the first place?"
  
  "The little thing you didn't hesitate a single second to accomplish the Ritual of the Dark Moon before making your move to usurp your genitor?"
  
  Bianca did give him an impressive scowl.
  
  "Besides that, you have three qualities which aren't that common these days. You're a member of the Suicide Squad, you're a teenage girl who also happens to have kept her virginity, and you did bath in the Hell Sea. In other words, you won't suffer from self-combustion if you become a Cupbearer, you're not completely unsuitable for the Hunt, and you're powerful enough to survive a few minutes during a Titan's Game."
  
  "That's...kind of true," the words were gritted out like each demanded a choice be given between that and removing several teeth. "But Olympus has several other options."
  
  "Who? Hera?" The son of the Earthshaker chuckled. "Please. Leaving aside the problem she had only a Sunset mark to guard the Garden of the Hesperides, she and Artemis can't stand each other. Our ex-Queen of the Gods spanked her niece during the Trojan War. Yes, Nico?"
  
  "Err...is it a figure of speech?"
  
  "No, Hera did truly give her a spanking." There was a loud sigh. "And it all went downhill from there."
  
  "Why not the ex-Huntresses you have?"
  
  "They don't have much of the Moon left, and they sipped that poisoned chalice already. I am not going to ask them to sacrifice their souls and their sanity and return to the private hell they left."
  
  "Then leave it to the Huntresses! They are so in love with the 'Mistress' who brainwashed them!"
  
  "It may come to that in the end, but the Gods clearly thought none of them were powerful enough to survive the role of Cupbearer."
  
  The Lord of the Suicide Squad shrugged.
  
  "Given that the King of the Gods has some experience in the matter, I am not prepared to naysay his judgement on the topic."
  
  "This is a nightmare," Bianca groaned again. "If I learn you were the one to leak the news to the Huntresses-"
  
  "Without sounding like I am looking to find a scapegoat, I think you need to 'thank' the Olympians for that. One or two certainly thought it would be a nice payback for the theft of the Master Bolt."
  
  "Bastards..."
  
  A salute was made with an invisible hat, and Perseus decided wisely to step back and leave the Enclave.
  
  "Tyrant."
  
  "Yes, your Dreadful Majesty?"
  
  "I would be a horrible Cupbearer. The Goddess and I don't agree on anything."
  
  There was a theatrical sigh.
  
  "Do you want to know the truth, oh Empress of Demons?"
  
  "Yes...I think."
  
  "As far as Domain-compatibility go, you're worse than I am, and I already consider myself an incredibly terrible choice. But when it comes to the Titan's Game Olympus wants someone to win, this is irrelevant. The priority is to have a Champion who will be able to stop Artemis when she will unavoidably do something extremely stupid."
  
  Something the 'Evil Lesbian Cult' would never do, not in a thousand years. They all knew it.
  
  "It is a very good thing we all refused to participate in this bloody parade of slaughter and massacres, wasn't it?"
  
  1 August 2007, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Rachel woke up screaming.
  
  It took her several seconds to realise her bedroom was exactly the same as it had been when she went to bed hours ago.
  
  "A nightmare...it was just a nightmare," she sighed in relief.
  
  It had felt so real, but then all nightmares were supposed to be, weren't they?
  
  "It can't happen again. The Sire of the Drakons is far away and sworn to non-intervention before the Titan's Game. And I have the bracelets."
  
  Rachel looked at arms...and froze.
  
  The bracelets were fissured, far from the pristine state they had shown yesterday.
  
  In fact, the more she looked, the worse it got.
  
  In mere seconds, the God-forged metal began to rust and crack.
  
  Past fifteen seconds, the left bracelet began to outright turn to dust.
  
  "It wasn't a nightmare."
  
  The young teenager jumped out of bed and ran.
  
  How was it possible? No, it would have to wait. She had to warn someone. If it wasn't a nightmare, then what she had seen was a vision of the future.
  
  Fortunately, it was still the night, the alleys were empty, and the magical doors were keyed to let her pass.
  
  It still took too long to her taste to reach the door she wanted and drum against it with her fists.
  
  About fifteen seconds later, Perseus Jackson opened, and for the first time, she noticed even his red eye looked sleepy and confused.
  
  "Mrs. Dare, I know that..." his eyes fell on her bracelets, which at the moment were busy turning into golden dust and metallic rusted fragments. "When and how?"
  
  "I at first believed this was a dream. There was a woman, in a sort of immense cavern beneath the Underworld. She was surrounded by giant roots and rivers of fire. I couldn't really look at her, just glancing at her shadow was too much-"
  
  "Did she at any moment call you her great-great-grandchild, or something like that?" Perseus Jackson interrupted, fear evident in his voice.
  
  "She said I was bearing the gift she gave to the Oracle she saved from the Deluge."
  
  The son of Poseidon looked like he had been slapped. Hard.
  
  "The Earth Mother. Of course."
  
  "What?" Rachel began to panic. "You mean the being I saw in my dreams was Ga-"
  
  "Don't say her name!" the Lord of the Suicide Squad commanded. "Not here. Not when she has already stirred in her sleep."
  
  The young redhead had one or twice asked herself if there were worse things than the Sire of the Drakons which could torment her when she closed her eyes. The answer it appeared was an unambiguous yes.
  
  "What did she want?" the son of Poseidon's normal eye was piercing straight to her soul. "While your bracelets were unable to stop her, the Grandmother of the Olympians would not destroy them on a mere whim."
  
  "She wanted to show me something...many things. There were eight of them...abominable monsters crawling from the Abyss. She said...she said that the jailor-prisoner had felt weakness. And that it was sending some of its Spawn as a vanguard. I have...I think I was given the coordinates where they will emerge..."
  
  "We did not receive any alert, be it from the Olympians or any faction we have accords with...and the Coalition isn't in position to act, not anymore. This means that if there's a threat, no one has been able to see it coming."
  
  Rachel bit her lip. Now that the obvious was said in plain terms, she realised she hadn't a single proof beyond her visions to present-
  
  "But if there's the slightest chance it was the Earth Mother stirring and choosing to deliver you this warning, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, I would be an imbecile if I didn't take it seriously." The black-haired Demigod smashed the part of the wall nearby, revealing a hidden panel that she had never suspected the evidence of. Before the redheaded girl had the time to open her mouth, the largest button was pushed three times, and plenty of others suffered the same 'treatment' soon enough.
  
  In the corridors covered in green-blue mosaics, a strident alarm shrieked, calling everyone to arms.
  
  "The closest problem?"
  
  "Somewhere on the northern shore of Lake Superior, I think."
  
  "We will have to test the new weapons of the Inevitable Doom, I suppose. Of course, before that, there is a slightest issue we must deal with."
  
  "What it is?"
  
  "Well, as much as I am flattered," the grin began to be so wide it was dangerous, "I can already feel the burning glare of Annabeth on my neck. She's not really happy I have a beautiful girl on my doorstep in the middle of the night, and especially not one who doesn't have any clothes."
  
  Rachel looked at herself...and gasped, both blushing and realising this was very much the truth. In the throes of nightmares, her nightclothes had apparently fallen or been destroyed, and-
  
  "PERVERT!" She shouted when the son of Poseidon didn't turn his eyes away.
  
  1 August 2007, Super-Mega-Yacht Inevitable Doom, Lake Superior, Canada
  
  Jackson was nervous.
  
  Richard wished it took a lot of cleverness to notice it, but it wasn't the case. Everyone aboard the yacht could feel it.
  
  "For the moment, no sign of...anything dangerous, out of the ordinary for the Lake Superior, or...any potential recruit for your eternal friendship contest."
  
  The last part earned him a snort.
  
  "Very good, Richard. You're learning."
  
  "I wish I didn't," the son of Hercules said drily. "It will be noon in five minutes."
  
  He didn't dare saying it, but-
  
  "Hoping that it was a false alert?"
  
  "Yes," he replied bluntly. "I have nothing against Mrs. Dare, but honestly, with all the enemies we've faced in the last year, I think we have reached our quota. If there are more enemies who want to present themselves at the gate, they can join the queue. Let them wait for 2008 or 2009. I have already met too many ugly faces in 2007."
  
  "Wouldn't it be a sight to speak these words and slam unbreakable doors in front of them..." Perseus grinned before returning to a serious expression. "I don't think the world works like that."
  
  "And the danger?"
  
  "While I would love to say we're just here and it's improbable there is a serious issue, Annabeth's mother was very pale when Mrs. Dare finished describing her visions and the warning she'd just been delivered. And the Goddess of Strategy isn't really the type to be easily disturbed by some threat."
  
  There was no counter to give to a truth as stark as this one.
  
  "Eight spatial coordinates spread across the world, and the Olympians immediately began to dispatch lesser Gods and kill-teams, before summoning more strength and more assets, all the while giving us the authorisation to use a magical portal so that the Inevitable Doom could arrive in time." Inexperienced Questers wouldn't have found that alarming. Richard and everyone aboard the super-mega-yacht weren't inexperienced or first-time Questers. There were bad omens, and those definitely belonged in that category.
  
  And yet everything felt so calm today.
  
  All around them, the Lake Superior was presenting a splendid spectacle of natural serenity. Despite the high speed of the Inevitable Doom, there were plenty of bird thrills and animal parades which arrived to their ears.
  
  "We will need to change course soon. We shouldn't get too close to these shores of granite."
  
  "One more minute, I think and-"
  
  The tremor was such that everyone felt it.
  
  Clarisse - who had been chosen to be the helmswoman today - cursed profusely and had to make several hard manoeuvres.
  
  "An earthquake?" someone screamed near the stern.
  
  "It shook the earth, most assuredly," Perseus whispered. "Well, it is going to be very, very bad."
  
  A column of dust and debris erupting in the next seconds on the nearby shore supported those words.
  
  Last confirmation, not that they really needed it, was the effect on animals. Whether they be ducks, fishes, insects, amphibians, or any other living species...they all fled.
  
  In a single instant, the entire fauna of Lake Superior fled before the danger. All of them were fleeing; an exodus of near-unbelievable proportions.
  
  Then the smell arrived.
  
  Richard nearly vomited from the sensation.
  
  He could tell it smelled like rotten eggs, milk which had its expiration date passed by three years, and more, but...this would be only a pale description of the mephitic smell which was blown in their noses and mouths.
  
  "Mount Olympus' Thrones!"
  
  Richard had seen some ugly monsters in his career.
  
  During the Great Quest in the Sea of Monsters, the Frost Iguanas had not been prize-winners of beauty contests, and after that, there'd been the Werewolves. When Perseus had summoned Charybdis, it had been an awful experience to merely glance at her.
  
  None of it had really been prepared him for today.
  
  The thing which rose from the shores of Lake Superior might have been mistaken for a giant caterpillar, if one stayed one thousand kilometres away.
  
  Otherwise-
  
  No, this was something absolutely abominable.
  
  It looked like a giant larva of some kind, and it was probably one.
  
  But no living species could have given birth to something so disgusting and abominable.
  
  When the sun rays touched it, it felt like mere contact led to pus being expelled and putrid smoke being generated. A larva should have had little legs or pincers. This one had both, and it didn't feel like there was any logic or rhythm to them.
  
  The entire thing was a nightmarish vision; no wonder Rachel Dare had panicked. There was slime and spikes. There were little claws where by all natural laws, none would be. There were some aquatic membranes and fins at places no fishes had ever evolved from.
  
  But the worst part was the maw. As the thing began to tower over the shore, the 'front' of it opened, disgorging impossibly long tentacles, and a maw which looked way too much like Charybdis for his sanity.
  
  "What is this malevolent creature?"
  
  "A Larva of the Pit, if the legends are true," Perseus declared in a dark tone. "I had to admit I counted myself fortunate to never see one before today...Rico! Fire the Death Star III battery!"
  
  "At once, Boss!"
  
  SSSSHHHHHHRRRIIIEEEEEEKKKKKKK!
  
  The green laser fired, for a brief few seconds turning the space above their heads into a green cauldron of violence.
  
  It hit the immense larva-like abomination at half-height.
  
  A geyser of pus and black blood erupted.
  
  A scream of pain assaulted all their senses.
  
  It was followed by a near-divine shockwave.
  
  When the world had finished spiralling out of control, Richard could only gape in horror.
  
  The damn eldritch horror had been harmed by the laser, yes, leaving it a sizeable hole in its chitin, or whatever accursed flesh this thing used as a substitute.
  
  But it was also obvious from here that it was regenerating.
  
  This thing had tanked one of the super-laser prototypes of the Inevitable Doom, and it hadn't been enough.
  
  "The missiles?"
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, my muscular lieutenant, they would not even scratch it."
  
  "The bombards? With enough napalm-"
  
  "Richard. This is a thing born of the Pit. In other words, it is like the Gigantes. It has a core of divine essence inside it, and to slay it, the rules are very clear. You need a God and a Demigod working together to slay it."
  
  "Oh," yes, it made sense...as much as this foul-smelling horror towering over the landscape and now moving in their direction made sense, anyway. "We have plenty of Demigods, here."
  
  The sea screamed, and a powerful earthquake shook the entire Lake Superior.
  
  Slowly, but with terrible majesty, a Trident bigger than the prow of the Inevitable Doom revealed itself.
  
  "We also have a God to help us." Perseus drew his sword, the Celestial Bronze reflecting the sun like a mirror. "I am going to fight this one, Richard. But if I at any point am thrown away or knocked out, you will have to take my place."
  
  "Understood."
  
  "My name," the next words were not for him, "is Perseus Jackson. Come, Spawn of the Pit. Come to us, and die. The Age of Heroes is not yet dead."
  
  The sword strike which was hurled, by any measure, was more powerful than one hundred missiles impacting together.
  
  1 August 2007, the Rainbow over Lake Superior, Canada
  
  Iris had been ordered to watch, and watch the furious fight in the waters of Lake Superior she did.
  
  She was missing nothing of the terrible battle, much like her seven other Avatars were monitoring everything of the seven other clashes occurring everywhere across the world, from Antarctica to the Himalayas.
  
  One part of the Goddess enjoyed very much the trust the King of Olympus placed into her.
  
  The other part of her was worried.
  
  It was not the first time in history that a Pit Larva managed to reach the surface. The first battle of Olympians having to deal with that threat had come as early as the first decades after the Titanomachy.
  
  But never, ever, had there been eight Pit Larvae rising to devastate the world at the same time.
  
  Ignorance wasn't bliss.
  
  Something as unprecedented should have been preceded by massive warnings, at least half of them coming from the Underworld.
  
  But there had been nothing.
  
  There hadn't been a single whisper of warning.
  
  It could have been a catastrophe.
  
  A Pit Larva was extremely vulnerable when it emerged, but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon enough, it began to corrupt the environment, from the earth to the air, until it transformed hectares of land into something all too resembling the hell it had been born into.
  
  The Earth Mother giving the alert was one of the most surprising and disconcerting things which had happened in the last century.
  
  It had generated plenty of worries.
  
  The Primordials, the first masters of this world, were stirring.
  
  No. The consequences of that could wait for another day.
  
  For now, there were battles to watch and assiduously study.
  
  Though for this one, it must be said, things were going well.
  
  It also was something beyond brutal.
  
  Poseidon and his half-blood son had dragged the Pit Larva onto their battlefield of choice: the Lake Superior.
  
  From then, the defeat of the Pit-born monster was all but inevitable.
  
  Oh, the Larva couldn't drown. Tartarus had learned too much from Pontus' spawns to make its servants with such vulnerabilities.
  
  But water was nonetheless a hostile environment, and the Larva was utterly unable to wield a single glass of water, or to counter some of the massive Hydrokinesis wielded against it.
  
  Its regeneration powers were as good as those of a Goddess, but against Poseidon, it wasn't any good.
  
  As for the usual tactic of the Gigantes - killing the Demigod first to negate the victory conditions - it was useless.
  
  Perseus Jackson was always taking his chance to attack when the Larva was already stumbling in pain after a Trident stab or a long impalement of ice spikes into its essence.
  
  It was a long battle of attrition, one which would require the waters of the Lake to be purified for months as an apology for the local Nymphs and other prestigious inhabitants.
  
  But it was one the Lord of the Seas and his Demigod son would win without any reinforcements.
  
  The Trident once again tripled in size, and devastating force was applied.
  
  The eldritch worm-like monster was twisted, compressed, and squelched in a couple of seconds.
  
  Many parts of it exploded into putrescent fragments.
  
  But it continued to fight, despite the pain and the torment inflicted.
  
  Iris continued to watch.
  
  3 August 2007, Tullianum Prison, New Constantinople
  
  Perseus wasn't really surprised that the armbands and other toys supposed to prevent Nocturna from using her Oracular abilities had been reduced to dust or crumbled into tiny debris when he came close to assess the situation.
  
  The former Tyrant wasn't going to say he was pleased by it, no, but he wasn't surprised. The Primordial of the Earth wouldn't have contacted one Oracle for something so big: she would have contacted all those having the mental resistance to not go utterly crazy at her dream-presence.
  
  "I was expecting you sooner."
  
  "Nocturna," he commented with a charming smile. "Do you know how many hours of shower, how many times I had to brush every part of my body to remove that awful stench forever?"
  
  "A lot?"
  
  "A lot, indeed," for more than six hours, he had cleaned himself, bought several of the most expensive shampoos and soaps Hermes made available to his wealthiest clients. Anything had been on the table to stop smelling like ten thousand corpses mixed with excrements, sulphurs, and the Gods only knew what sort of vile substance was added to that. "My frustration is reaching new levels as we speak. Talk, or I assure you, you will discover that all the tortures Artemis can inflict don't compare to some of the tricks at my disposal. The Goddess of the Hunt could inflict pain; I can make your life unbearable."
  
  "That's quite a statement..." the ghost of a Demigoddess for a few seconds seemed to arise from the slightly-scarred body. "Fine. We were owed a real conversation, I suppose. And I presume you have already have filled some gaps since Manhattan. You know now the identity of the real enemy."
  
  Better not to say that in an Olympian's presence; the Master of Olympus and his children were focused on the Coalition.
  
  "I know the Primordial of the Pit has stirred, to send us eight extremely dangerous Pit Larvae on par with some of the weakest Gigantes, all the while preventing anyone in the Underworld from noticing something was wrong until the last hour."
  
  "Stirred?" Nocturna barked in laughter. "It has fully woken up during the Second World War. Now it is trying to escape."
  
  For evident reasons, Perseus didn't like at all this revelation.
  
  "How come the Lord of the Underworld was unable to find out?"
  
  "It's not like he does have agents in the lowest parts of the Pit, the ones where an experienced scoundrel would have to reach to bring proof of the threat."
  
  "And," the son of Poseidon finished sarcastically, "the alternatives are called 'Prophecies', which would usually serve as nice tripping alarms."
  
  "Would Olympus listen to them before it was too late?" the claimant to the title of Oracle of Shadows countered.
  
  Honesty compelled him to acknowledge, in the privacy of his mind, that would be a toss-up as long as there was incredibly convincing evidence to present to the Council.
  
  "I often wondered, you know."
  
  The prisoner slightly inclined her head, but didn't say one more word.
  
  "I often wondered what kind of manipulation the Sire of the Drakons could have put in motion that someone rather clever sold her free will and accepted to become a slave, for all intent and purposes. Yes, the Great Serpent promised power and abilities beyond what a normal Demigod can dream of, but most people would refuse anyway. He could have used a flood of visions to torment you until you broke, but if it had been the case, you wouldn't have been able to trick us that well during the weeks aboard the Inevitable Doom. Sooner or later, we would have found out how badly he would have mind-scarred you. Claimant-Oracles are vulnerable when they're young, but this vulnerability cuts both ways."
  
  The former Tyrant clicked his fingers.
  
  "But the Sire of the Drakons is far cleverer than most of its opposition among Olympus believes. He didn't manipulate you at first. All he had to do was to confirm the truth of visions of the Oracle when it came to the Primordial of the Pit in your present and future. As Bella Medina, you were a loner, like most of the Demigods arriving at New Byzantium. You didn't know who to trust. You knew most Oracles had fallen silent since 1945. All the Sire had to do was wait, and then confirm your worst suspicions. Then you fell into his trap."
  
  "The Primordial of the Pit is truly awake, Jackson." The white eyes glared at him. "The eight Larvae you fought side-by-side with your parent wouldn't have been there otherwise."
  
  True, but what exactly had convinced said antediluvian creature to make his move now? The Oracles' seats being vacant had no doubt contributed. Prometheus had used a certain artefact of the Dreaming One to ensure Iphigenia was removed from the board.
  
  Worst of all, Perseus had heard of several rumours how Alcyoneus and other Gigantes were returned to the world of the living.
  
  Was every single one of those factors the fault of Python?
  
  No.
  
  No, but the Great Serpent was hardly an innocent bystander.
  
  "I will concede that the threat is real." A certain journey to Hell had largely been enough to know things could get really unpleasant when a Primordial was involved. Hmm...had Nyx reacted like this in his presence because she had been busy keeping the gates closed upon Tartarus' foul prison?
  
  "Of course, the moment this extremely dangerous being will try its legendary break-out, the Olympians will fight him."
  
  "Yes," Nocturna agreed. "And they will lose."
  
  "That's a point of view I'm not sure I am willing to echo." The son of Poseidon smirked. "Do you remember who's sitting on the Big Throne? Who is the Master of Olympus?"
  
  Zeus, for all his flaws, was a terrifyingly powerful God.
  
  "Much like the Greatest of the Giant and the Bane he sired long ago, the Primordial of the Pit is completely immune to the Sky and all the Domains derived from it. When Ouranos and this force of evil fought against each other, the former was so severely injured the wounds were still weakening ten thousand of years later when his son the Titan of Time struck with his scythe."
  
  Nocturna had closed her Oracle's eyes again.
  
  "It won't be a Primordial against the twelve Olympians either. The Pit will empty and horrors beyond imagination will flood the world we know. Gigantes and fallen Titans will pick up the banners of rebellion."
  
  Perseus was...honestly unconvinced.
  
  "You realise that if presenting a united front is your objective, you have chosen the worst kind of alliance to operate from. The Coalition is absolutely untrustworthy, and disregarding the mistake you made with the Kingship Domain, at the first sign something is wrong, the scapegoats will be sacrificed. Maybe the current King of Gods will lose. But the alternatives that are proposed currently are all far, far worse."
  
  "Ah, but presenting a united front was never part of my Sire's plan. He only needs a strong Titan of the Sun."
  
  The former Tyrant frowned.
  
  "What for?" There were a lot of missing parts that made absolutely no sense.
  
  Nocturna smiled.
  
  "Zeus, Lord of the Storms and Hurricane, once tried to meddle where he was neither desired nor wanted. He tried to place the power of one of the dead Primordials under his command. This power, the immortals called it the Wyld."
  
  The shadows seemed to come alive, and the single word echoed unnaturally against the walls of the cell.
  
  Perseus struggled to not shiver.
  
  "Not being a complete imbecile, Zeus tried to mould one of his favourite sons into the perfect vessel for it: a Demigod who would eventually be granted Apotheosis, a former shepherd-"
  
  "Pan."
  
  "In person," Nocturna nodded. "The king of the Gods didn't have all the parts of the dead Primordial to draw from at the beginning of the process, but he figured that it wasn't that critical. During the conflict which was called the Solar War and saw the death of many Primordials, you see, the essence of the Twelfth Primordial was shattered in several big fragments. The Master of Olympus figured that he could make the attempt with about the biggest of them, the one with the Domain of Nature, and stop there if his son had difficulties mastering it."
  
  "It didn't work out."
  
  "No, it didn't. The power of a Primordial...it is not playing per the rules the Gods are used to. If you aren't able to force it to submit and effectively transform it to become something new...the power will eat you from the inside. Calling it the Wild didn't change anything."
  
  And so died the Great God Pan. No wonder Olympus was certain he had perished.
  
  "To his credit, the Master of Olympus understood he had screwed up," Nocturna bared her fake teeth. "He fought back, smashed the anomalies, sealed the power, and then placed it beyond the reach of anyone, under Mount Olympus."
  
  What?
  
  "Dear, Olympus, as in, the Corpse of the Sky and the Realm of the Olympians, is practically next door from where we are." Had Nocturna fallen into madness?
  
  "Oh, sorry, I should have been more precise." The bat-woman drawled. "Under Mount Olympus of Mars, the Red Planet."
  
  Ah yes, it was going to be a bit more difficult to explore there.
  
  "Pan's successor, best known as the God of Wine and Madness, was named the Jailor, for behind the Hell Gate Olympus sealed, the Ivory Labyrinth awaits. It is the first Labyrinth in existence, the creation which inspired and forced all the other mazes into being. The Primordials created it; the Titans expanded it, and in the end, the main Domains and the overwhelming power of the Wyld were buried here. If my Sire's allies triumph during the Titan's Game, he will have not only a means to reach the Ivory Labyrinth, but also the keys the King of Titans hid long ago. Pan's Successor won't be able to stop him."
  
  "He will be able to become a new Primordial." Perseus was sure plenty of people would forgive him if he swallowed nervously right now.
  
  "He will be able to crush the Primordial of the Pit, and force it back into the eternal sleep it should never have woken from."
  
  Yes, yes he would. Python had certainly received the blessings of Gaea before launching this offensive; it was a guarantee the mother of the Sire of the Drakons would provide help at the decisive hour.
  
  It was a plan who had a good chance to work.
  
  There was just a little problem.
  
  "I have seen what this sheer corruption did to you, Nocturna, when you were exposed to it. What are the intentions of the Sire of the Drakons when it comes to the other Oracles and Olympus?"
  
  The inhuman expression did not come with an answer. But then the carnivorous stare did provide a few guesses and justified all his fears.
  
  5 August 2007, the Hamptons, New York
  
  It went without saying that walking on a beach with a T-Shirt 'I went to Hell and all I got was that T-Shirt' attracted plenty of local attention.
  
  Unless it was the 'touristic looks' his father had chosen for the day.
  
  Or both. It could be both.
  
  "We're certain it isn't a bluff this time?"
  
  "Unfortunately, this time, it seems that it wasn't the case." The Lord of the Seas passed a hand in his short and well-trimmed beard. "Venus found Midas' main base in the Philippines, and in his office, we found an extremely expensive flux-map trying to predict what would hypothetically happen if a new Domain of Corrupted Nature was to suddenly appear in this world. Those things cost a few billion Drachmas. Midas would be extremely reluctant to spend that much money in the first place; for him to feel it was required, he needed a good reason."
  
  "That some members of the Coalition believe it doesn't mean it is the truth. The Sire has a long history of backstabbing his 'allies'."
  
  Poseidon winced.
  
  "I can't deny that, but the Serpent would have had a lot of difficulties selling the plan some of them in the first place. For the Titans and the Gigantes, it wouldn't be an issue. They all believe in 'Might makes right'. But for someone like Midas, who loves the pleasures of civilisation, it would be a far tougher sell."
  
  "That bad?"
  
  The Lord of Atlantis' grey hair shone under the summer sun. It was at that moment Perseus acknowledged for the first time how much Triton's betrayal had hurt his second father.
  
  "I wasn't alive when the specific Domain was whole and wielded by a Primordial, you realise. We have only what happened with Pan to establish a sort of measuring scale."
  
  "And by that scale?"
  
  "We would soon regret the past era. Forests cut down centuries ago would grow in a single night, before filling themselves with thorns and plenty of flora dangers. In certain parts of the world, humans would soon begin to disappear in their depths and the few survivors escaping would speak of 'Deep Jungles' as far as their eyes could see. The Lesser Drakons of old some see in the museums would make their return in colossal numbers."
  
  "Err...by Lesser Drakons, we mean, err..."
  
  "Yes, we're speaking of the Dinosaurs."
  
  "Wasn't the Great Serpent supposed to be their Sire to all?" He asked, curious.
  
  "He is the Sire of the Second Generation of Drakons," Poseidon told him. "The First Generation was exterminated when the Primordials began to quarrel millions of years ago. When matters calmed somewhat and the Sky was crowned, the Earth Mother decided to resurrect the species."
  
  If one needed some evidence Gaea had not humanity's best interests in mind, releasing once again those super-predators and spreading them across the world would be definitely added to the already large fodder.
  
  Yes, the Earth Mother had warned them once. Only a fool would mistake her for a reliable ally, though.
  
  "The Sire of the Drakons really intends to go after the undiluted, complete power of a dead Primordial, then."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "No chance of... I don't know..." Yes, it might be a bit childish of him.
  
  That said, the consequences were so incredibly bad his childish protests were justified. And being childish was the privilege of Wicked Oligarchic Tyrants; the People had voted about that long ago.
  
  "The only point of debate is if the Sire really intends to take the Primordial's Power for himself, or let one of the Coalition trapped inside the Titan's Game wield it in his stead. As trust appears rare in this gathering of monsters, I would rather go for the former."
  
  Damn.
  
  The next part of their walk upon the beach was done in complete silence, though all the humans crowding it provided sufficient noise to fill several idiotic conversations twice over.
  
  "At least we have now a good idea what the big plan is. While the Primordial of the Pit tries to break his chains and open the first front, the Coalition will open a second one."
  
  The more his father had spoken, the more and more convinced he was that the former Masters of the World stirring here and now was not an accident.
  
  Either Python had stirred the waters to provoke a maximum of mayhem, or the Sire was exploiting the opportunity which had been created by someone else.
  
  It was a very disadvantageous situation.
  
  No, he wasn't going to make any jokes.
  
  Allying with Tartarus was not an option; his children the Gigantes thought Demigods made nice snacks. One could nicely imagine the Primordial would regard them as insects, and to be disposed as such.
  
  As for the Wyld...Perseus remembered the power which had changed Nocturna. There was nothing good to be found in bending the knee to that.
  
  "We will fight, of course. We have many powerhouses, and a lot of experience tackling opponents who think Might is the beginning and the end of all things."
  
  "But you don't think it will be enough."
  
  Two cornets of ice cream appeared out of nowhere.
  
  Not questioning this good fortune, Perseus grabbed the lemon-chocolate one while Poseidon took the other.
  
  "Apollo's nemesis is a clever and incredibly dangerous opponent. With the benefit of hindsight, we should have hunted him down at all costs long ago. Now he is very close to unassailable."
  
  "The Oracles are part of that strategy, aren't they?" at first, he hadn't understood why Python would bother imbuing them with that corrupt power. Once Apollo was removed the equation, they would be his to control. "Once they've submitted and agreed to become his slaves, the cycle of Oracles passing down the torch to another again and again is broken for good. They will belong to the new Primordial, this year and all the years after that. You can slay them, but they will come back, and they will still be Oracles."
  
  Nocturna was close to completing that process. Already, she couldn't really be permanently killed. The best strategy, disregarding the Twin's epic screw up, was to imprison her and throw away the prison keys.
  
  "I don't think the Suicide Squad can save the world again. Not for this one. The Primordial of the Pit is an opponent beyond us, just to name an important problem, and throwing ourselves into the Coalition's trap will solve nothing."
  
  "It is...partially incorrect, my son. Long ago, Kronos hid several keys to the Ivory Labyrinth somewhere inside the City of the Titan's Game. They open locks to places no one on Olympus was ever able to go. Well-hidden locations, one might say."
  
  The eyes of the Sea said no more, but one could fill the blanks. With those keys, one could probably overtake the enemy forces and strike directly where it was vulnerable: the heart of the Pit, where no immortal was able to go. They might also be able to prevent Python from reaching the Ivory Labyrinth.
  
  "It would solve a lot of problems." Curse it. Curse Python to ten thousand years of torture in the Fields of Punishment. "We also have to save Aspen."
  
  This was not part of the plan, needless to say.
  
  "Amphitrite would be extremely thankful if you did rescue her, yes."
  
  Why hadn't he stayed an honest villain? Why?
  
  Perseus Jackson scowled.
  
  "I suppose I know now why the Coalition negotiator felt so confident some of their proposals would be accepted sooner or later..."
  
  7 August 2007, the Freezing Falls, boundary between the northern Skiing Domain and the Climbing Elite Slopes, New Byzantium
  
  With the danger represented by the river and the distance from the main settlements, the Freezing Falls got very few visitors on a day-to-day basis.
  
  It didn't help that the average temperature was ten degrees colder than what the rest of the camp enjoyed at the moment. Yes, the spectacle was grandiose, but many Demigods wanted to enjoy the beaches after a good day of hard training.
  
  Nevertheless, with their unending roar and the absence of witnesses, the Freezing Falls were exactly the right location for today's meeting.
  
  "If you invite more girls here, plenty of Demigods and Demigoddesses are going to begin to ask questions, Perseus Jackson. Your girlfriends may even be among them."
  
  The son of Poseidon shuddered theatrically.
  
  "Don't attract calamity upon my head. Annabeth was already jealous enough in the last days."
  
  "Ah, yes. The young Oracle came to knock at your door in her birth suit, and after delivering her warning, tried to convince you to take her virginity on the spot?"
  
  Contrary to one said, there were good reasons to be a Tyrant. No one would have dared mentioning these rumours in his presence when he could drown them as punishment...
  
  "I see the rumour mills are working very hard to generate quantities of absurd and foolish gossip."
  
  The smile of the daughter of Aphrodite was, alas, a sign there was worse to come.
  
  "Why 'absurd'? There is plenty of evidence that you're on your way to have a harem. According to my sources, you have a sex dungeon hidden somewhere in the depths of your sinful palace and-"
  
  "I'm not sure I want to hear the other rumours," Perseus drawled, rolling his eyes. Had that sort of things happened to Triumphant and the Black Queen during their first lives? Unlike him, they had had amorous relationships before that...
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  "Certain." The black-haired Demigod picked up a rock and threw it into the cascade. "If I invited you here, it is to speak about you, Silena Beauregard."
  
  "Drew is going to be so disappointed you want to sleep with me before you try to seduce her."
  
  Perseus wasn't in the mood to joke a few more minutes, though.
  
  "At which point were you going to mention that you spied for the Coalition?"
  
  It was fascinating how the masks fell when you destroyed all the lies someone repeated inside his head in order to appease his or her conscience. The daughter of love was no exception. Panic burned in her eyes at first, then came defiance. That was before she remembered who she was facing, of course.
  
  Bitter acceptance settled after that.
  
  "How?"
  
  "Once you broke up with Beckendorf, the four boys you dated one after another have all been put on a target list by the Amazons for being found in places they really, really shouldn't have been anywhere near to. In addition to that, the Emus attacked with way too much precision certain sites of importance."
  
  "I didn't know, okay? I needed Drachmas to pay for the training of my brothers and sisters. They're all utterly unsuited for anything dangerous, even Bronze-level Quests. I needed the gold, and the interest rates were low. I was able to reimburse easily with the sales of perfumes and cosmetics."
  
  "Until many of your siblings took even more unsound debts behind your back. To the same loan sharks...who happened to be the Coalition. Who?"
  
  "I met Prometheus twice."
  
  Yes, that felt like the methods the Titan of Crafty Counsel would employ.
  
  "My mother knows, doesn't she?"
  
  "The Ancient Laws forbid a direct intervention, but she mentioned some issues your Barrack may have indirectly." Perseus said truthfully. "It is not too late to come clean."
  
  The eyes of the Demigoddess filled back with fighting spirit and something he had rarely seen in them: contempt.
  
  "Are we going to pretend the Olympians, minus my mother of course, would forgive me if I denounced myself? Would I avoid a severe punishment?"
  
  No. At this hour, there were at war with the Coalition. Many Gods were pushing to 'purge all the traitors hiding within our ranks'. Yes, they were speaking of Eris and the others, but Demigods and Demigoddesses wouldn't be spared.
  
  "No." Silena Beauregard shook her head, echoing his own thoughts. "Honestly, I haven't even anything to negotiate with. I paid back the money as fast as I could when I realised the bastards I had borrowed from. The information I gave was used up, I know that now. Beyond that, the little I am aware of was how the Titan of Crafty Counsel behaves and hides, and it's now useless, since he's trapped inside the Titan's Game."
  
  "Correct." A thought came, one he decided needed clarification. "An instant. The Titan met you alone every time he wanted some critical piece of information?"
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "I have listened to answers which were more filled with conviction..."
  
  The daughter of Aphrodite flinched.
  
  "The meetings always took place in some bureau offices somewhere in New York, but never the same locations, and after that, the reports had to go to dead letter boxes. I never saw anyone for the latter, obviously. For the former, though, I always felt...ill-at-ease. Like there was someone invisible watching us. But it may have been my imagination..."
  
  "Or it was someone hidden behind an enchantment taking notes." It was difficult to say which option was the correct one. Visiting the offices wouldn't do any good; it had been way too long.
  
  "For what it's worth...I am sorry."
  
  Perseus grinned.
  
  "Oh, I am sure you are. Consider yourself recruited, dear."
  
  Silena's eyes grew wider, and her panic couldn't be mistaken for anything else.
  
  "What?"
  
  "Prometheus more likely than not left a list of his spies somewhere," the son of Poseidon explained cheerfully. "He likely didn't give his 'peers' more than that, though. He's the Titan of Forethought, not of Boundless Generosity. That opens up interesting possibilities."
  
  "Err...I thought they had an Oracle on their side which saw everything?"
  
  "Rumours of omniscience are always greatly exaggerated!" If they were true, Zeus wouldn't have been able to catch them so unprepared during the Ritual of the Titan's Game, no? "The Coalition is forced to entirely re-write a scenario, one they spent decades working upon. Years of work, and they have to re-do everything in mere days, all the while being forced to account for destabilising factors like...the Suicide Squad."
  
  In debt for the sake of her sibling she may be, but Silena Beauregard was not dim-witted.
  
  "You want...you want me to become a double agent?"
  
  "And sell them some information which might cause great disturbances in the future!"
  
  "You're..." it was so nice when people were losing their voice after listening to some genius-level ideas of his. "You're completely crazy, Jackson..."
  
  "Oh, come on! Think of it like this: you will always be on the winning side, if you happen to swear eternal friendship to everyone!"
  
  8 August 2007, the New Sea Palace, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  There were storm clouds on the horizon.
  
  It was a rare day when there weren't clouds now.
  
  Annabeth couldn't pretend she wasn't worried. Every day now was betraying signs a war was coming, and that the storm which had been stopped by killing hundreds of thousands of Emus was merely kept at bay for the time being.
  
  "I feel we have no choice," the daughter of Athena said.
  
  "There always are choices."
  
  She glared at Perseus, who had the good grace to look a bit humble after that.
  
  "The question is often how unpalatable the choices prove to be once you do try to swallow them."
  
  "Still-"
  
  "Doing nothing is a choice, Annabeth."
  
  The blonde Demigoddess rolled her eyes.
  
  "I dare you to repeat that seven times in front of the entire Roman Senate. I'm sure we can sell tickets for the moment you eventually burst into laughter."
  
  "Now that's a challenge. I think-"
  
  The son of Poseidon stopped before his sentence could gain traction.
  
  Not because the door in front of them had opened without warning.
  
  No, the reason had more to do with a familiar figure having her feet on the table, while-
  
  "Black Queen," Perseus called out with some offended behaviour. "Is that my wine you're drinking?"
  
  Of course Perseus was going to see that as his first and second priority...
  
  "I liberated it from a nearby cellar, yes," Thalia said unrepentantly.
  
  "Wine Theft is a Crime against the People," her boyfriend naturally began, the provocation triggering something no Olympian could stop. "Your Vile Oligarchy perpetuating the Oppression of the Many will be judged by a Tribunal of the People for your unforgivable crimes!"
  
  Perseus cleared his throat.
  
  "Glory to Bellerophon, Peerless Jewel of Freedom. I am a humble diplomat, Praise the Will of the People."
  
  "Living with those democratic-crazy madmen was the worst thing Creation could do to our continent," Thalia scowled, before throwing a lightning spark at the duo of gargoyles which had been converging to attack her.
  
  The stone-enchanted monsters collapsed, all energy kicked out of them.
  
  The near-empty wine bottle was placed back on the table.
  
  "We have to talk, Tyrant. War is coming."
  
  "I am a man of peace! The Assembly elected me-"
  
  Annabeth gave her lover an exasperated look.
  
  "Praise the Will of the People, long live Bellerophon, Peerless Jewel of Democracy and Unleashed Mobs." Fingers were clicked. "A bottle of rum, please."
  
  The Nymphs were impeccable in their service; five seconds later, the bottle was there, along with two glasses.
  
  Perseus poured the amber-coloured liquid in one, placed it in front of her, before serving another glass for himself.
  
  "I was trying to avoid that kind of conversation." He admitted.
  
  "You really thought you were going to be able to skip entirely the Titan's Game?" Thalia asked with enough sarcasm to convince Hermes to promote a commercial campaign about the dangers of irony. "Really?"
  
  Perseus didn't look at her.
  
  "Unless you have a miraculous situation which escaped me, your Black Majesty, may I remind you that ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of the participants who happen to volunteer for a Titan's Game die?"
  
  "The previous Titan's Game did not have us as participants."
  
  "Now that's the proper Callowan arrogance returning to the surface," Perseus said, and everyone who knew him knew it was not a compliment. "We aren't on Calernia anymore. The Story does not have to bend some realities because we nicely ask. If we make the wrong step we will die. Permanent death; our souls will be extinguished forever."
  
  "They failed to kill you during the Coliseum."
  
  "They were constrained by their logistics when it came to moving their pet monsters in the middle of nowhere, and the arena restrained their options. Plus there was the whole 'Neo Hercules' theme they had to abide by. For this one, none of those three limitations will be there to save us. If the Sire of the Drakons wants to throw at us the Primordial Drakon of Magma for the first round, he can."
  
  Perseus drank in one gulp of his rum.
  
  "I'm told the damn beast is even bigger than Fimbulvetr, and the inferno it radiates makes the heat of the lesser beasts we fought after the Emus an amusing warm-up, pun absolutely intended."
  
  Thalia grimaced.
  
  "I'm not saying it would be easy."
  
  "Good, because it isn't!" Perseus scowled. "In fact, it may be the most difficult thing we will ever do in our lives...because yes, I include the first one in the process."
  
  The daughter of Zeus said nothing for long seconds...probably to give Perseus the time to empty a second bottle of rum.
  
  It was then Annabeth realised her boyfriend was as worried as she was...he was just hiding it better, both to the others and to himself.
  
  "I apologise." Thalia spoke.
  
  "Apologies accepted." The son of Poseidon chuckled. "You owe me a bottle of wine, Black Queen."
  
  "Yes, I suppose I do." Given how Thalia rolled her eyes, the odds of her ever paying it back were incredibly low. "We have to act, Perseus Jackson. If we do nothing, the enemy will get stronger, so strong that after the Titan's Game, we may not have a chance to put a stop to their ambitions."
  
  Perseus breathed out.
  
  "I thought about it." The Lord of the Suicide Squad admitted. "But the obstacles facing us are immense. Icarus, Phaeton, Caligula, Atalanta and Atlas for the Sun. Narcissus, Pandora, Kallisto, Arachne and Julia Drusilla for the Moon. If they weren't there...it would be far closer to this parody of gladiator games Commodus decided to die twice for. I'm sure it wouldn't be pleasant, mind you. There would be plenty of deaths and heroic sacrifices. There would be tragedies and bloodbaths aplenty. But with two teams, one under Apollo, the other under Artemis, it would be very much something akin to Hercules' Labours. We would face thousands of monsters, be trapped in a hellish environment with a certain number of tasks to accomplish."
  
  Perseus sighed.
  
  "But at least it would be a big test of cleverness between the Coalition and our side. It would be difficult, but survivable. Demigods survive Great Quests like that, though the costs in lives and everything wouldn't be cheap."
  
  Annabeth coughed.
  
  "Some may have been recruited to fit the role Commodus did."
  
  "I would love to, Annabeth. I would love to. However, I don't think relying on the stupidity of the opposition for our survival chances is a winning strategy."
  
  In hindsight, now that the counter-argument had been advanced, it may be better to assume the enemies were competent, yes.
  
  The red eye turned in Thalia's direction.
  
  "It is ten Claimants against two; in addition to that, they have five thousand 'Warriors'. Our Lord Uncle reported one thousand-plus Romans under Crassus were 'recruited' from the Underworld, and those ex-Legionnaires are now part of the Coalition's army. Even if we bring reinforcements, we will be outnumbered so badly it won't be funny at all."
  
  "We are only outnumbered if we let them unite." Thalia said whimsically. "And unlike me, I know you have been into contact with the Triumvirate at different moments of your adventure."
  
  "Oh, we're dabbling into treason now?"
  
  Her best friend showed a smile which might worry even some Telekhines.
  
  "I made the guess, and my father confirmed, that of the six claimants of the Sun, only Icarus, Atalanta, and Phaeton truly volunteered for the slaughter feast. Apollo, Caligula and Atlas did not. For the Moon, Pandora, Narcissus and Kallisto are without doubt the Coalition's creatures. Artemis, Julia Drusilla and Arachne are not."
  
  Fingers drummed against the table.
  
  "We must shatter the...lesser Coalition, shall we say? If we get only a block of two or three Fool-Claimants in front of us and a bunch of isolated participants for the rest, things will be far simpler."
  
  "You're right. The problem will be to strike and inflict the shattering in the first place...some of those actors will be sworn foes, after all. They can't be too fond of the Coalition, especially not when they will realise the 'Game's scenario' they volunteered for is not the one they will play a major role into. But I am sure of one thing: they were chosen for the hatred they feel for Apollo or Artemis. Or both."
  
  Perseus stopped playing with his glass.
  
  "That said, I am in agreement this strategy is the correct one. Frankly, it is the only one which can be described as 'not completely suicidal'."
  
  "Why do I think you're going to introduce some hurdles to break everything?"
  
  "I will not." The son of Poseidon said virtuously. "The Triumvirate will."
  
  "I think Olympus can pretend to look elsewhere, while they're bigger enemies to hunt."
  
  "Black Queen, don't pretend you're unaware of how things work. The Triumvirate aren't idiots, okay? I spoke with them days ago. Yes, I believe in preparing the ground for some glorious, legendary treachery. Surprise, surprise! The Triumvirate isn't interested in placing the heads of its leadership against a guillotine blade. If they are to commit forces for a rescue party, it will be because Olympus gives them an amnesty and some other things...I think I have the complete list here."
  
  An impressive scroll landed on Thalia's lap.
  
  Her friend began to read it immediately...and stopped after something like five heartbeats.
  
  "They're asking for a lot."
  
  "They're not Olympus loyalists. And their primary goal is to get Caligula and his sister out of this nightmare alive, not to slay Coalition Lords for the glory of Olympus."
  
  Annabeth could tell the eyes of Thalia and Perseus were rivalling each other when it came to scheming and manipulation.
  
  "In my humble opinion," Perseus declared, "the means justify the end. We place two Fool-Claimants on our side, and this also offers two slots of Cupbearers which can grow incredibly fast in strength. We destabilise the Coalition's forces - had I mentioned they had included in it over a thousand Romans? More interesting from a tactical perspective, we may also acquire Roman volunteers who have battle-experience for murder-Quests like the Titan's Game, something the Legions of New Constantinople are not trained for."
  
  "We get four versus eight instead of two versus ten, and spread doubt into enemy's ranks."
  
  "Yes." The empty glass was raised again. "Now the real question, my friend is: can you convince your genitor to agree to this amnesty and temporary alliance?"
  
  9 August 2007, Empire State Building, close to the Gateway to Olympus, Manhattan, New York
  
  Visiting the Empire State Building was a memorable experience. You could understand why the movie-makers of the 1930s had chosen this skyscraper in particular for King Kong to make its famous New York climbing expedition.
  
  But there was no Kaiju-sized gorilla today to observe from the observatory of the eighty-sixth floor.
  
  There was, however, a God.
  
  "The Triumvirate's conditions have been accepted...and they have promptly added a few others."
  
  Perseus couldn't be said to be in shock.
  
  As a former Tyrant, he admired the audacity, in fact.
  
  "Only one will be really considered."
  
  No need to be particularly clever to guess which one. It was called 'Cupbearer'.
  
  "They will betray you." The King of the Gods didn't deliver a warning; this was a statement of facts.
  
  Perseus wished he could say 'no, they will betray you', or 'your paranoia is growing out of control, old man', but he couldn't.
  
  The stakes of the Titan's Games were the Sun and the Moon, plus quantity of lesser Domains.
  
  The main obstacles to the Triumvirate turning their blades against other parties were not friendship and love, but self-interest and survival instinct. If they killed their only allies, the Coalition soldiers would fall upon them like a pack of wolves and end their existence within hours.
  
  "They will certainly try." It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to stab him in the back. So far, relatively few treacherous lieutenants and allies had succeeded. "Has the Coalition changed its terms?"
  
  "No," the Master of Olympus growled. "When it comes to Warriors, Olympus will have to commit five thousand souls. The Coalition in the mean time will commit the same number of reinforcements."
  
  To sum up, they would be outnumbered two-to-one, five thousand against ten thousand. Except the first five thousand Warriors of the Coalition were still asleep, and unaware how much the situation had changed...
  
  "As per your request, you will be placed in command of them. You will gain the spoils of war if you succeed...and the responsibility of an eventual failure."
  
  This would have fazed him a bit, if the black-haired Demigod wasn't already certain he wouldn't survive said 'eventual failure'. The Titan's Game was not an event of small measures. They would survive and win, or die for good. There was no middle ground.
  
  "Yours is the duty to convince Bianca di Angelo, daughter of my brother, to become the Cupbearer of my daughter Artemis."
  
  That, it must be admitted honestly, was not something Perseus was relieved to hear.
  
  There had been some grim acceptance from plenty of the members of the Suicide Squad in the last days, now that they knew how bad the next years promised to be.
  
  Bianca, though?
  
  Bianca remained extremely stubborn.
  
  "I remain convinced this was one of the contingencies established by Discord."
  
  "This feels indeed exactly like the sort of things she would try to do in order to spread mayhem, yes." Zeus didn't try to defend his treacherous daughter for a single second before returning to the key problem. "Do not delay, Perseus Jackson. The Coalition is pushing hard for the tradition of all participants to enter on the Day of the Dead to be respected."
  
  "During the very first days of November?" That one was definitely a nasty surprise. "Is that...normal?"
  
  "Some Titans didn't enforce it in the past, but it has been done enough times to be considered a not-so-infrequent request." The Master of Olympus informed him. "In that situation, you will be plunged into an artificial sleep until the Winter Solstice."
  
  "All the while the Coalition will get several weeks to prepare Kyushu for the massacre of the century."
  
  The game had never felt more rigged than at this moment. They would be naked, weaponless, and thousands of kilometres away from New Byzantium, unable to teleport or bring the resources which would give them considerable chances of victory.
  
  "I will make my will known that the loyal Demigods of the Lotus Club and all other beings decided to support Olympus are to obey your commands once the Titan's Game begins. I don't know if it will be enough."
  
  Good; the Lord of the Sky wasn't trying to sell him the lie Aurelian Clive and the others would fall to their knees and cry in joy at the idea of following his guidance.
  
  "Expect several of the Lords of the Coalition to participate in the trials to become Cupbearer. And above all, be careful around Atlas. My experience when it comes to Titan's Games is mainly consisting of the one I survived and a lot of rumours, since I made sure there was none until this year. Atlas..."
  
  "I know he was the Titan of Death and the Underworld, the Chthonian equivalent Othrys had for my Lord Uncle."
  
  "He is that, and far more. Atlas is the General of the Titans. He delighted into imagining twisted scenarios and vicious arenas where thousands of Demi-Titans died. Between the roles of Referee, Wager-Maker, and Master of the Game, he must have been involved in over a hundred Titan's Games."
  
  This was a considerable amount of experience, although Perseus noted the former prisoner holding the Sky Prison had never participated as a 'Fool-Claimant' before. It had always been on the side of the immortals, never as a mortal being. This changed a lot of things...one could hope.
  
  "I thank you for the warning, Lord Zeus."
  
  His feet began to move.
  
  "Perseus Jackson!"
  
  His head turned, and the kingly bearded appearance was gone.
  
  In its place stood a sixteen-year-old teenager, with blonde hair and heterochromatic eyes, one blue...and one gold.
  
  Oh. So that was-
  
  The God...no, he wasn't completely a God when he chose to use that Avatar, did he?
  
  The looks were extremely familiar, at least: one could see a lot of them in Thalia and Jason Grace.
  
  "You won't be the same if you survive. The same will be true of all your companions. Each Titan can say whatever they want, the purpose of these fell 'Games' is to break mortal bodies and minds. They want you to abandon each and every one of your principles. Moral codes, honour, taboos, non-Stygian promises...their goal is to grind the self-control and the education into dust. The urge to grow stronger at all costs is overwhelming. Resist. Resist for as long as you can. As tempting as indulging in beastly instincts can be, it is not worth the outcome. Fight it. Every hour, every day you stand against the cruelty of the Game is a measure of Time they've failed to break you."
  
  This could have been an accusation, or something used as a prelude to say 'yes, that's why I will kill you in the end.'
  
  It wasn't that.
  
  It was the King of the Gods delivering a single, true declaration of how awful the trap of the Coalition was going to be.
  
  "The City of the Titan's Games...it is truly an awful place, isn't it?"
  
  The terrible dread, the fear, the panic he had felt when in presence of the Nexus Theatre...it was the accumulation of emotions and massacres beyond counting.
  
  The youthful Avatar of Zeus didn't reply. Then again, it wasn't needed. Everything worthwhile had been uttered.
  
  "Dionysus is waiting for you."
  
  Perseus breathed out.
  
  "I'm ready to go to Naxos."
  
  10 August 2007, Naxos, Aegean Sea
  
  From the sky above, the evidence jumped to your eyes: Dionysus had decided to return Naxos to its previous glory.
  
  There were construction works everywhere merging the old with the new. Due to the divine Domain being particularly active, one could literally see the wine fields gaining ground everywhere on the island.
  
  Many festivals were already being prepared, and servants of a certain Court were inviting locals and foreigners to dance and party with them between two periods of work.
  
  All of that pointed in one direction. The biggest and most direct point, nevertheless, remained the giant edifice which was slowly being built to swallow the ancient ruins.
  
  The Temple of Dionysus Mark 2, Perseus had no doubt, was going to be bigger, more decadent, and imbued with all the joy and pleasures the Mark One of Antiquity had taken for granted, to which the modern comforts and two thousand years of alcohol delights would provide welcome additions.
  
  It was really an interesting sight when Dionysus flew his sky chariot several times over it - any idea it was a coincidence and that the happy owner didn't want him to satisfy his curiosity died after the second pass.
  
  It was really fascinating...and not just because the scenes strongly implied Dionysus had now a local Greek community worshipping him by the tens of thousands.
  
  Alas, duty called.
  
  A last turn, and the sky chariot abandoned the 'owner flying tour', to fly on a north-eastern course. Naxos, ex-Dionysia, would have to wait for their return. That visit, as mad as it promised to be, would happen another day.
  
  "I'm only using only local marble, you know," the God of Wine said smugly. "I had to make some long negotiation with Hecate to convince her to throw a spell here."
  
  "What does it do?"
  
  "Oh, it convinces the sculptors the marble of my island is of better quality than elsewhere," Dionysus shrugged. "Nothing big, I didn't want to spread panic and everything. Besides, some of the big emery deposits were truly running out. Mining would not have sustained the island's economy for long. Demand severely diminished due to humans finding alternatives for the abrasives they used in other roads."
  
  The chariot landed in the middle of the mountains with the grace of a hippopotamus and the subtlety of an elephant, which was to say, none.
  
  Fortunately, there was absolutely no one to observe them.
  
  "But we aren't here for that. Follow me."
  
  Perseus made a single sign of his head, noting that aside from the esplanade the God had used to land his vehicle onto, the landscape was incredibly vertical and desolate.
  
  They were in the mountains of Naxos, and save rocks and some grass, one couldn't say the view was going to receive the awe of tourists or other visitors. Though given the hints he had received, this may be indeed the solution to certain problems: if there was nothing to search for here, in the mountains of Naxos, assuredly few trespassers and unwanted mortals or monsters would disturb the peace.
  
  The walk was done at a fast pace, and quickly led them to abandon the road and do some hiking among the rocks.
  
  There were no signs, no painted trail to follow, but clearly, his divine guide knew where he had to go.
  
  Which wasn't as simple as it should be.
  
  There were caverns everywhere around, and some holes were assuredly signs of the long-dead mining activity.
  
  Even that vanished past a certain point...or rather, a single line of power, some kind of ancient enchantment which had been carved upon many stones. There was power here...power to keep mortals, be they humans or other lifeforms, away from this place.
  
  Seconds later, Dionysus slapped a giant stone which seemed to block a middle-sized cavern's entrance, revealing it was indeed made of stone, but it was a giant door, with some large bronze mechanism in the middle.
  
  Without hesitation, the God of Madness drew a sort of bronze box from his pocket, and delicately pressed it against the bronze of the door.
  
  There were many clicks, some buzzing, a loud clang, and...the door disappeared like it had never existed.
  
  "Consider yourself honoured, Perseus Jackson. In the last millennium, no mortal was allowed to see this place."
  
  "I thank you for the honour."
  
  "Yes, yes." Dionysus' eyes went to the darkness, before returning to him. "The protections here were put in place after several raiders group somehow managed to find it and...let's just say that not being Demigods, they lost a lot of their sanity in the process. It was judged preferable to make sure everyone forgot it ever existed."
  
  "The Satyrs do not know of this place?"
  
  "They do not, and I would thank you profusely to not tell them about it."
  
  "Sure," Grover and his fanatical 'Nature-preservers and Questers aiming to return Pan' were not his friends anyway.
  
  Into the darkness, they went.
  
  It became penumbra soon enough, as Dionysus lit some old oil lamps waiting in cavities at irregular intervals.
  
  The walk was not causing any difficulty otherwise; the rock under their sandals was incredibly smooth, like someone had been trying to make a ramp here for some reason.
  
  Ten seconds later, the whispers began. The hated they carried...it was considerable.
  
  It was cold, but not because of any Ice Drakon.
  
  It was-
  
  "This place is cursed," the son of Poseidon said imply.
  
  "Indeed," Dionysus replied.
  
  The God didn't speak again.
  
  This didn't mean their little expedition was uneventful: no less than three times, there was a need to remove doors barring the way.
  
  Unlike the one which had masqueraded as a rock, though, those ones didn't vanish, and in fact felt really...solid.
  
  More intriguing and worrying was that the last one that opened seemed to have been rammed by something extremely heavy from the other side...the stone was fractured to an impressive degree. It was like something had tried to claw its way out. No, it was not reassuring.
  
  They walked, and soon enough, Perseus felt a breeze.
  
  There was a greater cavern not far-
  
  "Perseus Jackson, witness the Last Refuge of Pan."
  
  Dionysus took a few steps to the right in order to give him an unblocked view of the site.
  
  The former Tyrant instantly thought of Tullianum Prison.
  
  A platform of stone suspended and illuminated, only accessible by a single bridge?
  
  Come on.
  
  The chains and the metal used to bind something or someone was not helping matters.
  
  It was then when you looked at the rest of the cavern - which was way bigger than Nocturna's cell, for the record - that the mistake could be acknowledged.
  
  Tullianum's Prison walls were barren, smooth, and very much the same as the day they'd been built.
  
  This wasn't the case here.
  
  No, it felt like someone or something had literally carved, sculpted the walls so that ugly scripts were everything a visitor could see no matter how high his eyes went.
  
  To make the entire scene worse, Perseus was pretty sure it was no human language.
  
  Not with how unpleasant the sensation hurled at his eyes was. It was like someone was trying to concoct a mixture of onion and acid, and then throw it into his face.
  
  He turned his eyes away, only to remark that the prisoners' platform was not really illuminated; it was shining with a blood-gold light without any assistance from Dionysus.
  
  Blood...oh, no.
  
  "Ichor and blood poured into a river...that's what it took to change the nature of the stone itself."
  
  "Very good, Perseus," Dionysus grimaced. "You understand now?"
  
  "It is not a refuge," the Lord of the Suicide Squad stated with utmost certainty. "It was the prison Pan built for himself when he realised he was beginning to lose control."
  
  Something in the darkness murmured loathing and dark promises.
  
  Dionysus threw an oil lamp into the abyss in front of them...revealing that below, there were many skeletons, some humans and some...which were giving very monstrous vibes.
  
  The litany of bad news wasn't over, though.
  
  What had clearly been intended as a sterile cell was not that, not anymore. In the foundations of the mountain, several giant black roots had begun worming their way out of the prison, weakening the walls, shattering ancient protections, and attacking the door.
  
  Perseus was prompt to make bad puns and jokes when he wanted to lighten the atmosphere.
  
  But here and now?
  
  There was nothing amusing or comical to say.
  
  The atmosphere and the evidence were close to force a shiver or two out of him.
  
  It became worse, somehow.
  
  The scripts were conjuring vile images; representations of men fornicating with beasts and becoming in turn monsters themselves. There was no unified theme, but the entire spectacle reeked of Ruin.
  
  "The scratches and the scripts on the walls...it must have taken decades to make them."
  
  "Yes," Dionysus' visage twisted into a grimace. "I wish...I wish he did tell me. I wish he had trusted me. He suffered, and I wasn't there to help."
  
  The God of Wine scowled, his face far closer to the expressions of his genitor than he imagined.
  
  "But if one flaw governs us, we children of the King, it is no doubt the divine pride in our chests. Pan didn't tell us until it was too late. And now with the benefit of hindsight...it is possible that he never was the master of the power he tried to merge his essence with."
  
  No wonder Bella Medina had been literally disintegrated and Nocturna arose from her. If one-twelfth of the Power was sufficient to corrupt and twist a nice Shepherd God, then a smaller but proportional amount of the Wyld would literally transform a Demigoddess beyond recognition.
  
  "Maybe...weren't there...warning signs? I mean, he must have changed when he grabbed this power to add it to his Domain."
  
  "In a single second, his Avatar was extremely similar to a Satyr." Dionysus chuckled at his bewildered expression. "Oh yes, at the beginning, Pan looked very similar to certain children of our father...the brown-haired bastards, of course. Not the blonde ones like the Grace siblings New Byzantium is hosting right now."
  
  "I bet the Satyrs were overjoyed at that novelty." Why wouldn't they be? They had a protector, a God who looked like them, someone who cared.
  
  "They were." The Olympian shook his head. "There was discomfort at the beginning, I won't deny it. But after several years, the doubts vanished. Pan seemed to have everything well in hand. His flocks were getting larger; his Domain of Arcadia was becoming more and more influential. He clearly had no difficulties wielding Nature in all its forms. And I think Father at some point suggested to go for the assimilation of more of that power."
  
  Perseus winced...all the more because on the platform, now a very familiar pentacle was presented, inviting them silently to join the malevolence which had once crawled into this cavern.
  
  "That mustn't have gone well."
  
  This prison must have already been built, and the Shepherd God, every time his 'fugues' ended, had to watch these conjurations of obscene acts urging him to do more vile deeds. Letting your humanity be diluted further would be seen as a step too far.
  
  "Pan shot it down immediately, saying he needed more time to master his Domain." Dionysus' grimace was infinitely sad. "Yes, I think it was our warning that things were only fine on the surface, that there was something wrong...but Pan didn't speak of it with us. He in fact spoke of it with no one, not even his favourite Satyrs...and if he spoke of it with the sheep and goats he lived on a constant basis, no one can exactly gainsay or naysay it, can we?"
  
  The whispers began to flood their senses. The roots at the bottom of the precipice were moving, and no, it wasn't a trick or the eye or some kind of cheap magician illusion.
  
  "We only began to realise the worst-case scenario was here when whole villages began to disappear, with forests standing where they had been. Men and other mortal souls disappeared, with hateful things haunting the dark in the shadow of the mountains. Monsters no one had ever witnessed crawled out of thorns-filled valleys. Livestock mutated, with goats with three heads and monstrous carnivorous sheep becoming common."
  
  "Evolution," the word sounded like a curse on his lips, and it was because it was one. "This...that Power isn't just a corruption of Nature. It is Evolution too."
  
  "It is that, and more. It is Devour. It is Savagery. It is the Cunning of a Predator. It is Procreation at all costs. It is Might, just...Might. Not the 'Might makes Right' of the Titans. Might, simply Might."
  
  There have to be twelve 'facets' to that Primordial's Power, and seriously, they sounded as dangerous as the first one.
  
  Zeus had been a fool to try thinking any child of his could control it. This was beyond any of his children...beyond him too, in all likelihood.
  
  Perseus wasn't sure he wanted to ask the last question. But the stern gaze of Dionysus left little choice.
  
  "Ask."
  
  "How bad?"
  
  "Did you ever wonder why there are all those stories of goat-headed fiends in certain religions?"
  
  "Yes, but...oh, no. Please don't tell me..."
  
  "Pan was dying, but not like the Satyrs and some of his most loyal worshippers think he did." Every word spoken was intertwined with genuine sorrow. "The Power was controlling him. He was not the chariot driver anymore, he was the one driven and transformed by it. Nature had been completely twisted, and soon, very soon, a young Primordial would indeed rise, eager to claim the other morsels of its legacy."
  
  Who would have thought the rumours had more truth in them than any sane lore-master would have assigned to them? There had been whispers about Baphomet and Azazel for centuries, and Lovecraft had been haunted by something called the Black Goat of the Woods.
  
  "He lost the battle, but he still had enough lucidity in his last moments to know what he had become had to be stopped." Perseus guessed.
  
  "Yes. Yes, he did. In the end...Zeus took responsibility for everything. I had to give the killing blow, to make sure I would have the best claim on the Twelfth Throne, but...it was already over. Pan died."
  
  The cavern shrieked, and the curse-laden things hated the declaration.
  
  Perseus struck a blow, with a good amount of the strength he used to vaporise Emus he didn't like.
  
  The whispers ceased. For now.
  
  They would come back; both God and Demigod knew it.
  
  "Thank you. Now let's get out of here, and never come back." If raiders had been able to arrive in that cavern, one couldn't help but be sorry for them: blinding themselves was one of the most positive outcomes which could have befallen them, in the end.
  
  And no, Perseus wasn't stupid enough to want to cross the bridge, and touch the chains where once Pan had deliberately chained himself in the hope he could control the power transforming him into an abomination.
  
  10 August 2007, Atlantean Enclave, New Byzantium
  
  Rachel was watching the big temple of blue and yellow - the one who had recently been inaugurated for the Goddess of Storms whose name she never managed to spell right - when she got one more reminder that Annabeth Chase really, really didn't like her.
  
  The blonde was speaking with another Demigoddess, but when she noticed her, the glare was...venomous? Acidic? Something you gave to a normal enemy? All of the above?
  
  The red-haired New Yorker decided it was better to walk away.
  
  There had been several spats and...bickering exchanges in the last days, and aside from the gossip-makers, no one had really won anything from them.
  
  Rachel didn't have the time to go back to her painting atelier, though.
  
  Another member of the Suicide Squad intercepted her.
  
  "Well, well...the Nymphs are going to be so disappointed there is no catfight scheduled for today."
  
  "Give me a break, Drew," the claimant-Oracle replied with a scowl on her face. "You're just determined to annoy Chase."
  
  "I admit it is one of my guilty pleasures," the daughter of Aphrodite who was also a living weapon and a Champion of Hell admitted shamelessly. "That said, avoiding quarrels is certainly wise of you."
  
  "Why?"
  
  "You didn't know? Lou Ellen Blackstone is going to return soon."
  
  Rachel felt her heart beat faster and a lot of parts of her body sweat.
  
  Obviously, she had heard about the daughter of Hecate. At some point, if you lived within the Atlantean Enclave, you heard about all of them, from the 'comic relief' penguins to the 'Dreadful Majesty' of Bianca di Angelo.
  
  "What about her?" she tried to keep a disinterested tone.
  
  "Nice attempt, but you're blushing way too much to be believed," the black-haired girl 'coached' her. "I would advise speaking with her right away."
  
  "I didn't do anything!"
  
  Drew grinned, and it was like a cat had caught the canary. Yes, the yellow bird in question was Rachel.
  
  "Girl, you're devouring a certain son of Poseidon with your eyes. And that's when he has his clothes on; when everyone is in swimsuit on the beach, you look like a deer blinded by massive projector lights."
  
  The Demigoddess lengthened her nails.
  
  "Speaking as someone who was told by Lou Ellen to go seduce someone else, I strongly advise you to not be caught by her. The doe's eyes are cute, but sorceresses have powerful territorial instincts."
  
  "It is a crush, nothing more!" Rachel protested. "And she tolerates the presence of Chase, no?"
  
  "Lou Ellen wanted Chase to be tamed and trained," the two words were stressed, and Rachel blushed once again. "The daughter of Wisdom had it so bad for our bad boy that it was inevitable she would accept all the conditions the power couple of the Suicide Squad would give her. You, dear, on the other hand...you are a complication."
  
  If there had been a way to hide somewhere at that very moment, Rachel would have done so. It was...mortifying? Humiliating? Ridiculous?
  
  Her life was evolving from an absurdly dangerous world to absurdly illogical and dangerous levels, and she had a feeling it was just to get to the start of the 'race'.
  
  And to say that some months ago, it would be hell to find a proper boyfriend, for her family's wealth made sure all the people at school were more interested in her father's name than her personality...
  
  Rachel almost opened her mouth to ask Drew for a miraculous idea, but she closed it seconds later. The Hell Champion of Persephone had given her the advice: tell the truth to Lou Ellen Blackstone.
  
  The red-haired claimant-Oracle didn't expect it to be an enjoyable moment...if she went along with that 'tactical approach'.
  
  "What do you think about the Titan's Game?" She decided that changing the subject was the best course of action for today.
  
  Drew Tanaka smiled to show she wasn't fooled, but the claw-nails retracted and there wasn't a vocal comment about it.
  
  "I think it comes too close after our last Great Quest, and that I am tired we of the Suicide Squad have to clean up behind the Gods because they're unable to own their disasters."
  
  "In that situation, though...err...I don't want to apologise for them, but it's not like they can do much to force the problem to get away."
  
  "Don't be ridiculous, of course they can."
  
  Rachel blinked. Wait, did the Demigoddess seriously imply-
  
  "Are you suggesting that-"
  
  "We received strong incentives to participate in the murder game which is being prepared on a certain Japanese island. We were told it was horribly dangerous. But for some reason, the majority of the Gods are extremely happy to stay the hell away from the Titan's Game."
  
  Flames didn't burn in the eyes of the girl who had become a living weapon, but only just.
  
  "The only one who really, really has a good excuse to stay away, and I can't believe I'm saying that, is the Master of Olympus himself. If he does, not only he may not have a kingdom to return to, but the Mother of Monsters enters the battlefield on the side of the Coalition. There's only him, though. The others are afraid like they've never been to lose their so-precious immortality and eternal youth."
  
  "I was under the impression that..." Rachel hesitated, and then decided to push, the daughter of Aphrodite had been sufficiently blunt seconds ago. "I also had the strong impression everyone on Olympus and here at New Byzantium hates the guts of the Moon Goddess. At least when it comes to anyone who doesn't worship her, like the Satyrs and the Huntresses."
  
  "Ah...yes, I didn't see the situation like that, but you may be right...it's true that the 'Goddess we have to rescue' being someone they loathe must give a perfectly good reason for the Court of Olympus to stay the hell away from it." Drew emitted a cold laughter. "It fits, in a strange fashion. The Satyrs only love Artemis because she's the last deity of Nature, and she doesn't return the attraction, let me assure you."
  
  The young claimant-Oracle was absolutely unsurprised to hear it. Artemis stood for virginity and innocence. The Satyrs were sexual perversion incarnate the moment they came of age. This was very much incompatibility at its finest.
  
  "It doesn't help, of course, that the Titan's Game is a trap." Drew continued, more focused on the big nightmare the Coalition had engineered. "At the moment, the only reason officers of the Suicide Squad are considering it is because the alternative is death all the same, just in even more unfavourable conditions."
  
  "An Oracle's visions could make all the differences between victory and defeat," Rachel said quietly.
  
  The other girl - and Gods, she was beautiful with her Asian inheritance and her slim figure bolstered by divine magic and a symbiote of war - delivered a vicious smirk.
  
  "Mrs. Rachel Elizabeth Dare, at this very moment, you're even weaker than I was before the Quest of the Lightning Thief really began. You don't control your visions of the future, and...well, I think everyone will be truly amused by Annabeth and yourself trying to murder each other during the next months, but it isn't exactly the goal of a Great Quest."
  
  Rachel desperately wanted to disappear underground at this very moment.
  
  What had she done to deserve this?
  
  12 August 2007, Manhattan, New York
  
  It took an intense effort to not scream or to show her anger.
  
  More will and self-control was expended in the minute after that.
  
  As angry as she was, Silena knew she had to follow the plan.
  
  A bad outcome was one thing; being arrested as a traitor was a different and far more dangerous end. It wouldn't take much. If the Sire of the Drakons had another Oracle beyond Nocturna and received visions of her being a double agent, her life wouldn't be worth a single Drachma.
  
  They were in the middle of Manhattan, close to Olympus itself.
  
  One could see across the street a few large firms whose names were incredibly familiar for anyone versed in Greek and Roman mythology.
  
  It wouldn't take much; just a phone call to denounce her, and then her life would be forfeit.
  
  This was why following the plan was essential.
  
  What was the plan?
  
  Walking without any goal or a clear objective southwards, letting the crowds hide her and the normal flow of tourists and Manhattan workers engulf her.
  
  As her 'employer' had joked, an Oracle could not tell what you were doing if you didn't know yourself what your intentions were.
  
  In pragmatic terms, no evidence could be used against her if there was no evidence in the first place.
  
  It was, of course, easy to say it in a few words.
  
  It was quite another to accomplish it.
  
  There was a massive risk the Coalition was tracking her. Or someone affiliated to them, taking a massive income for missions like this one. Or the Triumvirate. Or Olympus.
  
  The list of factions which could doom her was not short.
  
  This was why no less than three times in one hour, Silena did end up entering different clothes shop, and completely ending up changing her appearance. Old attires were removed and abandoned every time.
  
  A pink wig and some absurd flashy garments were used for the second change. She went to the metro and returned to the surface without having taken it.
  
  There was no logic to anything she did, and every move was done on a whim.
  
  There was no plan, and there couldn't be one.
  
  It was good that she did. Several times, Silena thought she perceived quite a few individuals shrouded in Mist, and they very much looked like monsters.
  
  The Coalition had indeed had agents here.
  
  By the second hour, though, she was far away from the meeting where 'contact' had taken place. By the third hour, there was no sign of pursuit, and the only monsters one could perceive were the ones trying to sell touristic trinkets for absurdly expensive prices.
  
  Silena didn't relax, but when she emerged once more from a different clothing shop again - which would be the last one, since all her dollars had been used in that vast and useless shopping spree - she felt far more confident than she'd been at dawn.
  
  Idly, the Demigoddess plunged her hands into the pockets of the jacket...
  
  And her right hand found a phone which had no rights being here.
  
  By the Eternally Cursed Pit, how?
  
  Trying to feel calm, Silena drew the object from its hiding place, all the while presenting a bored expression to the world.
  
  She could have sighed in joy when the mobile instrument of communication revealed itself being painted in orange.
  
  Which, she supposed, was a message by itself.
  
  There was no phone list database, but someone had called ten minutes ago.
  
  The female double agent - and how she hated thinking of herself that way - pressed the option to recall the number.
  
  "How?" she asked as someone immediately answered kilometres away.
  
  "For both our sakes, I don't think you want to receive the answer to that." At least he didn't mock her; the affair had been sufficiently stressful. "This conversation needs to be extremely short, otherwise someone may listen to it. Did it work?"
  
  "Yes." Silena admitted. "You were right; the 'spymaster' didn't give them more than his list of contacts. They weren't aware of his list of appointments, so to speak. But they're suspicious."
  
  "If they weren't, I doubt they would have survived for so long the wrath of our 'friends'. Who?"
  
  "I can't say his name right now...let's call him...the King of All Coalitions?"
  
  There was a curse uttered at the other end of the communication.
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  "He can hardly be mistaken for anyone else. And he told me himself that he will lead the Coalition's reinforcements. He is Prometheus' second-in-command."
  
  "Yes, I suppose it's true." Something shattered loudly; like someone had thrown a fragile object against the wall. "What do they want?"
  
  "The complete order of battle, what else?"
  
  There was a second of silence.
  
  "Mightily ambitious of them, I have to say."
  
  If it hadn't been her life at stake, Silena would have rolled her eyes.
  
  "But it is logical," the Demigod spoke. "If the scaly handbag needs to preserve his impartiality, he can't hiss them the secrets about everything."
  
  "There is worse, though."
  
  "Continue."
  
  "Delivering in their hands the order of battle and other critical information...they made it clear they believe it is a test. A test and a way to use me in the best way until my cover can't hold anymore."
  
  "They want you to join the 'party', don't they?"
  
  "They haven't said it out loud, but they strongly implied it. And there is worse."
  
  "This is going to be difficult to achieve. We're speaking of the 'party' of a lifetime, you know."
  
  "They want me to serve as one of the bearers of the drinks for the party." As a triple agent, she didn't add, because it was way too dangerous to speak of that in the streets where everyone could hear.
  
  "I amend my previous words; it is indeed worse than I thought."
  
  15 August 2007, area of the former Aeternum Gate, New Byzantium
  
  Anyone who had seen this section of New Byzantium's defences before the Emu attack and then returned only today would have had a few mental hurdles to overcome in his quest to believe it was the same place.
  
  An asphalt road had been built. The defences of New Byzantium had been massively reinforced by giant steampunk-styled guns and huge redoubts. Several parts of the valley had been heavily mined with some unconventional beings like the Cacti Dryads.
  
  The biggest change of all naturally was that the Aeternum Gate - what remained of it after the battle - and the outer wall supporting it had been entirely dismantled. With the Nexus Theatre gone, defending an exposed position which taxed the manpower of the defender to its limits had no reason to be tolerated in the first place. On this, Legionnaires and Questers agreed with each other.
  
  "I don't think it is a very good idea," Annabeth said, crossing her arms.
  
  "Octavian McArthur and his friends forming part of the welcoming committee of today? No, it is not." Perseus replied truthfully.
  
  "I meant about the Titan's Game...and everything else."
  
  "Oh," honestly, he hadn't even been thinking of it right now.
  
  One might in fact say that he, ex-Tyrant, had been avoiding thinking about it, and very hard at that.
  
  "I am not exactly delighted myself, Annabeth. I would prefer very much enjoying my summer holidays, counting the days of my diplomatic immunity, and generally enraging some of our 'allies', while the Telekhine replenished our stockpiles. I just don't think staying idle it is a good idea."
  
  Yes, the mere act of not telling the Olympians to go screw themselves was a practical defeat.
  
  "As I told you in a previous conversation of ours, there is always a choice. The choice here, alas, is to become irrelevant. If some of our chief opponents become either Olympian-level Titans or eldritch-level Primordials, we Demigods are effectively useless. As long as the enemy isn't so stupid as to show us its Achilles' heels and present it in front of us all the while screaming 'take the shot!', but I think we can agree the Sire of the Drakons is not that stupid."
  
  "He isn't, no." Annabeth recognised, as the familiar sound of a car resonated into the valley.
  
  "Then there is every reason to admit this is the last chance we have to stop the Coalition ourselves. After this, it will be up to Olympus. Whether they win or not, we will be utterly useless."
  
  "What the God of Madness showed you scared you."
  
  "It did, Annabeth." There was no use pretending the contrary. Some Gods may think transforming into animals and doing unnatural things was normal, but it wasn't. And what Pan had carved just with his finger-claws into that cavern was far, far worse than beastly deeds. It was the end of civilisation and the beginning of an Age of Monsters.
  
  The son of Poseidon breathed out.
  
  "If that is allowed to spread everywhere, we're going to get the equivalent of Zones Mortalis everywhere in this world, and I don't think the human species is going to survive for long that. Demigods in particular will be brought to the brink of extinction. We can't fight battles like the ones we did every morning. Not as Demigods."
  
  "So we have to choose between high chances of dying during the Titan's Game, and even higher chances to perish if we refuse to jump into the trap. Can I repeat how much I hate this?"
  
  "Oh you're free to do so. We live in a democracy, after all! I think."
  
  It felt good to chuckle.
  
  His good mood improved further as the red sports car finally began to stop pushing its engines and decreased his speed. Ah, and yes, Octavian McArthur was taking position.
  
  The day was beginning on a fantastic note!
  
  "You are ten minutes late!" the worst Legacy of Apollo to ever walk the earth - Perseus had presented him the award on August 2 - brayed for everyone to hear as the crimson speedster parked in front of him. "This is absolutely disrespectful. You should praise the Olympians and say-"
  
  "Crawl and kiss the ground, miserable worm," the Demigoddess removed her sunglasses, and didn't give Octavian more than a single glance. "When you will have recognised your mediocrity for long enough, you will carry my bags. Until the last day of my stay here, you are my pack mule."
  
  Octavian crawled.
  
  To be clear, Perseus could have achieved the same result; in fact, he had already given similar orders using the power of the not-Charmspeak he often tried to perfect into a weapon worthy of his arsenal.
  
  The Tyrant had to admit, however, he could not have achieved the adoration suddenly blossoming on the ex-Legionnaire's face.
  
  He Spoke; he didn't Charm.
  
  The daughter of Venus was doing both.
  
  "I see you have improved your skills, Lady Piper McLean," Perseus stepped forwards, while at the same time the Legionnaires made a hasty retreat, clearly afraid of sharing the fate of Octavian McArthur.
  
  The girl who had first been introduced as 'Neo Diana' had changed. Her skin was tanned; her body had far more muscle than he remembered. The grace and the...fluidity, for lack of better words, showed she had been trained by someone who knew what he was doing.
  
  What incited to prudence was the steel in her eyes, though. There had been rumours she had survived the attack which had seen Caligula kidnapped, and it seemed those were true.
  
  "You, however, don't seem to have changed a lot," the red-robed Neo Eos smiled, a grin promising nothing good on her lips. One had to admit the theme was well-chosen: red speedster car, red robe, red lipstick...
  
  The kiss came without warning, and surprised the hell out of him.
  
  Perseus had to admit that the power she tried to use against him was...intoxicating.
  
  Thankfully, he was still on his guard, and after a couple of seconds, he made sure the situation felt like a 'bite'. It also was good there wasn't any lust behind it; as such he didn't need to make something regrettable.
  
  Piper McLean released him, looking incredibly satisfied with herself.
  
  "I hadn't paid you back properly for stealing my first kiss. Now we're even." The daughter of Venus said smugly, looking behind him...where sure enough, Annabeth had to be restrained by Asterius. Otherwise she would charge and probably try to kill the grinning female emissary of the Triumvirate.
  
  Perseus used a handkerchief to remove all the red from his lips. So that's why she had chosen such a vibrant and smelly lipstick...
  
  "You should be careful, you know. A good third of New Byzantium already believes I am on my way to gather a harem of beautiful Demigoddesses."
  
  "Not. Even. In. Your. Dreams!" Piper McLean sang. "That was just to make your second girlfriend jealous. I am going to be the Cupbearer of Emperor Neo Helios, in case you hadn't guessed until that very minute."
  
  "I had thought it was the case, yes." Dawn counted as a Mark of the Sun, and with the essence of a Nemean Lioness' Queen inside her, the daughter of Venus was one of the few Demigoddesses who could avoid self-combustion these days. The irony that Commodus had inadvertently ended up creating a future Cupbearer was the kind of things which had to make the Coalition survivors facepalm, or at least he hoped so. "What led to this splendid decision? The offer to build you a super-yacht to store all your shoes, or the offer to promote your singer's career?"
  
  The grin disappeared, replaced by shock and confusion.
  
  "How by the foundations of Rome do you even know that, your honourless bastard?"
  
  "I'm not listening to a denial here."
  
  In fact, given how Piper blushed, matters between a certain duo of the Triumvirate had certainly proceeded far further than expected while he wasn't watching.
  
  "I can still give you a slap. The Gods know you deserve it!" Ah, threats! What he would do without them?
  
  "As always, I am prompt to surrender before female tyranny," Piper glared, for his voice made clear that it was anything but surrendering to her will.
  
  "I have a feeling those twelve months are going to be incredibly long." She muttered angrily. "Who is the fourth one? In fact, have the Olympians arrived to a decision?"
  
  "Oh, they have. Consider yourself privileged, my dear Neo Eos, you're going to partner with Thalia Grace, or as I love to call her, the Black Queen. I can't wait to see her in action as Cupbearer of Empress Neo Selene."
  
  "You're joking!"
  
  "I assure you, I am not."
  
  Suddenly, Annabeth was not the only Demigoddess to emit a scream of true, offended fury.
  
  Perseus merely grinned.
  
  He wanted to say he had played a large part in that decision...but it would be a lie. Olympus had not asked for his opinion...and they were likely to regret it a lot before the end of their story.
  
  15 August 2007, the Field of Hercules, New Constantinople
  
  In years to come, Frank would be asked where it all began. While some of his fellow Legionnaires would have varied answers to propose, his would never change.
  
  It all started on a nice market day, in the re-labelled 'Field of Hercules' - some big shots of the Senate had decided to curry the favour of the God of Strength by removing the ancient and traditional name 'Field of Mars'.
  
  It was a pleasant morning.
  
  Kids were playing between the stalls, since the summer heat hadn't yet begun to try to make everyone sweat.
  
  Many cargoes of vegetables and fruits were bought, all the while the fishermen pretended the catch of the day was a gift from Neptune - no, it wasn't, and everyone knew it perfectly.
  
  Despite from being far from welcome, several Huntresses were trying to bargain for vegetarian meals with a daughter of Ceres. Satyrs in the mean time were negotiating for someone to take the enchanted sheep wool in exchange of the sweets they were so eager to gorge themselves upon.
  
  And then it all changed, as orange fireworks exploded without warning.
  
  Seconds later, a small balloon teleported above the market stalls, one which made plenty of Legionnaires and non-Legionnaires grimace in anticipation of the worst. The hot air-filled balloon did not look to be armed for war, but only a fool wouldn't recognise the shape and the colours: someone had transformed this monument to man's ingenuity into a representation of a giant penguin head.
  
  "HEROES OF NEW CONSTANTINOPLE!"
  
  "Oh, no..." Frank would have cried, if there weren't too many witnesses. Several Roman civilians were far less dignified, but they at least had the excuse of not serving Rome on the battlefield...
  
  "YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED BY THE LORD TYRANT PERSEUS JACKSON TO PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!"
  
  "AND MAKE IT DOUBLE!" the second penguin squeaked, holding an even bigger megaphone than its 'brother'.
  
  "WE WILL PROTECT THE WORLD FROM THE DEVASTATION OF THE COALITION!"
  
  "WE WILL UNITE ALL SCOUNDRELS, VILLAINS AND HERETICS WITHIN A SINGLE NATION!"
  
  "IT IS INEVITABLE, IN THE NAME OF THE ADJUDICATOR OF LOVE!"
  
  "GOING TO HELL THREE TIMES WAS PLEASANT, BUT NOW WE REACH FOR THE STARS ABOVE!"
  
  "RICO!"
  
  "SKIPPER!"
  
  "THE SUICIDE SQUAD WILL CONQUER THE SUN AND MOON AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT!"
  
  "JOIN US NOW, TOMORROW IT WON'T BE RIGHT!"
  
  The squeaking and the fireworks ceased, and Frank sighed in relief.
  
  This, everyone in Constantinople would acknowledge, had been lowering his guard at the wrong moment.
  
  "YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE! LAST MINUTE AMENDMENT! DUE TO AN OVER-INFLATION OF THE RECRUITMENT QUOTAS, THE SUICIDE SQUAD HAS DECIDED TO REBRAND! IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE, LOVE, AND TO COUNTER THE VILE THREAT REPRESENTED BY THE COALITION, IT HAS BEEN DECREED A SQUAD IS INSUFFICIENT TO RECONQUER KYUSHU BY FORCE!"
  
  "RICO!"
  
  "SKIPPER!"
  
  "WE OF THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF PENGUINS ARE HAPPY TO OFFICIALLY PROCLAIM THE CREATION OF..."
  
  "THE LEGION OF DOOM!"
  
  "THHHHHEE LEEEGIOOONN OF DDDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!"
  
  "DOOM IS INEVITABLE! MARCH TODAY, TOMORROW YOU DIE!"
  
  "THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION ON THIS SUICIDAL MATTER!"
  
  They were doomed; Frank knew it deep in his head and in his heart.
  
  They were doomed...and one could only hope the name wasn't going to bring more curses upon everyone's heads.
  
  Oh, right, who was he kidding?
  
  They were all going to die.
  
  Author's note:
  
  Why try to limit oneself to be a Champion of a single Olympian, when you can be the Champion of two?
  
  No, no Demigod before Perseus Jackson had tried to achieve that before. One can only wonder why...
  
  For reasons which, I think, won't need to be explained too much, the next chapter will be titled Legion of Doom.
  
  Yes, most of the volunteers are going to die. But that's a sacrifice Perseus Jackson and Olympus are definitely ready to consent after some seconds of deliberation.
  
  Anyway, for anyone interested, below a list of the twenty major Demigods and Demigoddesses who were thrown into the Titan's Game as hostages of fortune:
  
  Aurelian Clive, the Blasphemer, son of Zeus, leader of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Helen Clive, 'the second Helen', daughter of Jupiter, second-in-command of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Fergus Anson, 'the Stormreaver', son of Kymopoleia, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Oliver Sharp, the 'Steelbreaker', son of Vulcan, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Leopold Crowley, 'the Dark Prophet', son of Trivia, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Rayleigh Wellesley, 'the Bloodletter', son of Ares, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Charlton Blackmore, son of Kleio, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Jill, daughter of Fama, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Keir, son of Faunus, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Warren Forbes, son of Vis, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Balthazar von Pelt, the 'Last Hunter', son of Janus, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Alfred Judge, the 'Ram', son of Mutunus Tutunus, member of the 'Bengal Party'
  
  Aspen, daughter of Poseidon, once known as Charybdis, Heiress of the Seas
  
  Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto, the Ghost that Roamed the No Man's Land
  
  Margaret 'Meg' McCaffrey, 'the Royal Assassin', daughter of Ceres
  
  Maureen Sullivan, 'the Revolutionary', daughter of Nemesis
  
  'Osborne', 'Mad Doc', son of Aesculapius
  
  Rosaleen, 'the Wasp Queen', daughter of Mellona
  
  'Krupp', 'the Lord of Guns', son of Bellona
  
  Gabriel von Helsing, 'the one who Hunts the Night', Legacy of Nyx
  
  As you can see, everything is proceeding as per the plan. Oh, what plan? The plan to engineer the greatest massacre of monsters and heroes of this millennium, a show no one will ever forget...
  
  Last reminder: it is Perseus Jackson and the Titan's Game, not Apollo and the Titan's Game...
  
  The other links were the story is available:
  
  ww w .alternate history forum/ threads/ an-impractical-guide-to-godhood-a-percy-jackson-x-a-practical-guide-to-godhood-crossover .513032/
  
  archive ofourown works /32339365 /chapters /80167612
   ww w .pa treon Antony444
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