Warnings for abuse of a certain spider.
A special thank you to anyone who reviewed, alerted, or favorite'd. Thanks for reading!
& & &
A Battle Plan, of Sorts
& & &
Annabeth has to pee. Bad.
But that's the least of her problems…which is kind of the problem.
She stands resentfully at the door of the bathroom, armed with paper towels and a rubber mallet she keeps around the apartment. She is eyeing the wall across from her, focusing in on a tiny blackish-brownish-greyish speck. Annabeth has always thought the floral wallpaper couldn't be any uglier, but she's been proved very, very wrong.
There. Look closely, now.
And get past the ugly wallpaper already.
Just above a disgustingly pink peony is the aforementioned blackish-brownish-greyish speck. Further examination of the speck shows that it has legs and eyes and tiny little tufts of fur, but Annabeth refuses to get close enough to see that.
She takes a deep breath, hugging the hammer to her chest like an amulet.
This is ridiculous, she tells herself. Really, Annabeth, get a backbone.
She checks one more time to make sure that the paper towel really is in her hand and that the hammer is perfectly situated in her palm. Slowly but surely, she inches into the bathroom, taking necessary precautions so that the spider doesn't move. Annabeth steadily moves the trash bin as far as she can, then nudges it with her toe the rest of the way so that it's directly underneath the spider; she pulls her leg back to where she's standing as fast as she can, her sigh flooded with relief.
Annabeth whips out the paper towel and holds it as far ahead of her as she can. She's opted for a direct attack (because it won't see her coming—obviously). With another deep breath she holds the towel as close as she can to the wall without actually being near it. The rubber head is in the air, ready for assault. She closes her eyes and mutters a quick prayer.
Two and a half.
Annabeth covers the bug with the sheet and smashes the hammer against the wall. Not hard enough to put a hole in the wall, of course, but hard enough to kill a measly spider. (Though, if the horrendous, flowery wallpaper is damaged in the process, so be it.)
When she balls up the paper in her fingers, she expects to see a little bit of squished dead stuff on the other side, but no. She checks the trash bin, maybe it fell in.
She's sure she sees something scuttle past her feet. Shrieking hysterically, she dives into the bathtub. She's on her knees now, leaning over the tub with her weapon outstretched, scanning the floor with a hostile expression on her face.
The halfblood pounds her mallet into the linoleum floor like a savage until she's sure it's dead. Only stopping when, finally, all that's left is a tiny puddle of bug juice.
Unexpectedly, she hears a male voice call out from down the hallway. "Annabeth? Are you okay? I let myself in 'cause I heard—"
There's a pause while Percy assesses the situation. Annabeth holding a sledgehammer, sitting in a bathtub looking murderous and a sketchy-looking stain on the bathroom floor. Hm.
She turns her head slightly and looks up at him, smiling weakly. "Um…hi?"
"Annabeth…what are you doing?"
She looks from Percy's face to the hammer to the stain on the fake tiling. Don't say anything stupid.
"I was…uh…going to the bathroom?"