If you haven't read the Last Olympian, don't bother reading this story. There are many spoilers in this fic and also a little Percabeth. Have fun! LOTS OF REVIEWS!!!! Story set about fifteen years after the Last Olympian. I wish i owned PJO, but I don't, Riordan does.
"Annabeth," I called from the living room, "Have you seen Sophia lately?"
My wife of ten years called back from the kitchen, "She's at school still Percy, why do we discuss this every week?"
I walked into the kitchen and greeted Annabeth with a kiss on the cheek, "Because she's my daughter and I'm worried that she'll be kicked out . . . it runs in her family."
"Your side of the family," Annabeth corrected, "Unlike you, I stayed in school."
"Until you ran off with Luke and Thalia." I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?" she asked me.
"Nothing." I said.
Annabeth smiled, and gave me a playful look, "Alright, go do your thing Seaweed Brain."
I was surprised because Annabeth hadn't called me that since we were kids. When she says 'go do your thing', she usually means 'pay the bills', but I take it as 'Go lop something's head off with your sword.' I decided to listen.
The arena wasn't really a room, so much as it was a gigantic attachment to our house, but I still call it a room anyway. It could have held another full house, but it held othing more than model dummies to kill.
Walking into the room I designed to be a sword fighting arena, I had a strange thought. If someone were to walk in on me, a thirty year old guy swinging a sword, not only would they probably need therapy, but they may call the cops.
In the end, I decided to go with it; I needed a little practice time, so when my daughter comes to age, I could teach her a thing or two.
I walked into the arena and pulled out a ballpoint pen from my pocket. I uncapped the pen and a bronze three foot sword grew to life in my hands. Anaklusmos. Riptide.
I stared strangely at the blade. A golden metal, shaped like a traditional Greek sword, a leaf blade that was deadly for stabbing and even more for slashing. Its leather bound hilt and cross guard were aging, but it still didn't stop it from delivering a nasty hilt-slam to the first dummy I came across. After his head went back, I impaled him in the gut and ripped upward, splitting him in half.
The dummies used to be made of straw covered in armor, but now they were those mannequins that stores put up in windows to show off clothes, but the designed has changed to make the skin so that it was more life like and realistic.
Anyway, after slashing and bashing armored dummies for thirty minutes, I finally came to a clearing, giving me a look at two mannequins in standard armor, nailed to the floor of a chariot pulled by two synthetic horses. They stayed there, not moving; at least until I pushed a button on the wall, making the horses eyes flare and the chariot roar to life. Thanks to Annabeth, who found out how to create automatons after getting a laptop from her brother Daedalus before he died. I ran over to the weapons case I kept up on the wall and grabbed a spear. Then the chariot charged me.
As the thing passed me by, I stabbed down with the spear and tried to break off the left wheel, it only broke some of the spokes, but it threw me across the room, and snapped my spear, but the chariot kept going and turned around for a second charge. I got up as fast as I could and rolled out of the way just as the horses pounded the ground where I was a second before. Not bad for a guy of my age, huh?
As it turned around for a second time, I waited . . . waited . . . and swung my sword at the driver, cutting him in half. I never went for the horses, seeing as my father, Poseidon, the god of the sea, created them and I'd always had a soft spot for them.
Again, I ran over to the weapons case and pulled out another spear. This one found its mark when I threw it; right in the mannequin's heart. The horses immediately slowed down and stopped; a program Annabeth had installed so that the horses didn't go crazy and kill people. The chariot was the last part of the training, because it took the most energy out of you, except when Annabeth does it; she makes it look easy, but only because her mother is Athena, the goddess of war and wisdom. Not to mention the one who invented the chariot. It wasn't fair.
I was drenched in sweat and grabbed some water from the mini fridge I kept in the arena.
I went back into the living room to watch television, but was greeted by a different scene. There was my daughter, Sophia, sitting on the couch with . . . a guy. He looked about seventeen; two years older than Sophia, and hardly ever a good sign. He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. His facial features were kind of elfish, and he had a gleam in his eyes that told me to secure my belongings. Strangely enough, I knew this kid, though he looked like he hadn't aged a day.
"Luke." I muttered under my breath.
Too short? Deal with it. There will be more chapters, and more POVs, including Sophia's from this chapter.