A/N: So, long time no post, huh? Bet you guys hear that a lot...

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy with my other story, and studying for tests and all that. I'm so done with school. I wish it was summer already. But, at least this chapter was longer than the other two. I think the next chapter will be the last. I think.

Saving: Part II

Clarisse kept thinking about what had happened last night. Annabeth had come back from her torture exactly an hour later from when she was taken, her skin burned to a crisp, her eyes widened with evident pain. What the fuck did they do—put her in an oven?

It was clear that Annabeth was in no way shape of form to do the work today. The moment she entered the cell, she had dropped down, blackness already consuming her. She and Thalia tried the best they could, rummaging through their kit to try to get rid of the horrendous burn marks on the blonde's skin, but no avail. When the guards came to take them to their work, they pleaded with them, bargaining that they would work triple the amount if they let Annabeth sleep for the day.

At least they had some pity. They left Annabeth in the cell, and upheld the promise the other two girls gave them.

The daughter of Ares looked up from building her weapons, off to the other side of the mines where Thalia was. The other girl was chipping away at rocks, being successful if she should find some sparkling gem hidden beneath the stone's crust. Her hands were already bleeding, but what else was new?

"You," a voice commanded from behind her. Clarisse rolled her eyes at the never-ending charade as she turned involuntarily turned around and faced a Roman guard. "Stand up."

Clarisse bit down upon her lip from talking back, telling him off with one of her own crude retorts. Her head whipped around to the other side of the mines, where Thalia was staring at her and the guard. No one else looked, considering they were too busy caught up in their own desperation to stay alive. That meant to focus on the tedious work ahead, no matter how large or small of a commotion one of the prisoners was making.

The guard—a nineteen year old guy with an ugly scar running down the whole left side of his face—grabbed Clarisse's right arm roughly. Before she could pull back and send the guy reeling back with her fist, he had quickly brought out something thin and injected that something into her skin. Clarisse struggled, and while she fought the haziness evading her, all she could see was the sparkling needle sticking out of her forearm. There had been a sharp pinch and then…nothing.

All of the sudden, everything in her view was spinning. Fuzzy dots of different colors outlined the edges of her eyes as she tried to squint to decipher the images. Something was wrong. She can't feel anything. Clarisse doesn't feel, neither does she notice the fact that two other guards flank by her side, holding her upright by her stiff arms. The guards were there so quickly, as though they expected this to happen.

Like the whole thing was planned.

"Get the fuck off her!" The unpredicted outburst had Clarisse turning her head a fraction. At least she could still hear—the only sense of the five that she still had.

A handful of prisoners had to hold an acrimonious Thalia back from jumping the guards that were attempting to drag Clarisse away from the mines. Even in her daze, Clarisse couldn't help but feel stricken for the girl. Oh, Thalia, do you revolt against everything?

Another guard came in the scene, thrusting his hand into the air and twisting it around Thalia's long, ebony hair until he was pulling her back by the tendrils. He winded her hair, rolling it in his hand until it became wildly tangled. Thalia still fought him, but the thought of Silena crept to her. The image of Aphrodite's daughter stilled her, but she did not let go of her gaze on Clarisse.

With Thalia being held in place, Clarisse was taken away.

They didn't have to travel far. A stone wall of the building would do.

The guards had her pinned against the wall, each one of them holding her arms outstretched. She was too weak to pry her arms from them, and then she realized what a disgrace she was. No son or daughter of Ares was ever weak.

The Roman with the ugly scar smirked widely, making his scar stretch out in an even more horrendous position than it was already in. "Clarisse, daughter of Mars," he mocked harshly. His fingers ran through her thick hair, scraping hardly along her scalp. "You have no idea how long I've waited to shut that loud mouth of yours."

Clarisse may have been injected so that she wouldn't fight back, but she could still feel the pain. It didn't take her long to realize how deep in shit she was. Her dazed eyes mustered up as much ferocity as she could into glaring at the scarred guard, but her eyes widened and faltered the moment he unzipped his pants.

He chuckled lowly, the sound even bringing certain chills to Clarisse. And not the good kind. "What, nothing to say? That's a first."

At that moment, she fought as hard as she could. She fought so ardently to the point that it even hurt to fight back. Her attempts were feeble and wasted. It proved no point anyway, considering the guards on each side easily slammed her arms against the stone wall with their solid bodies. She was trapped like a deer caught in headlights. She was the deer that just stood and watched the approaching car that was close to hitting her, and she was too stupid to move out of the way.

The nineteen year old let his hands roam all over her body. His burglarizing hands starting at her face, where they cradled her face tenderly, almost patronizingly to her as his dark eyes penetrated her viciously. Those hands trailed down to her chest, where her rapid heart was. Being the sick-minded pervert he was, his hand balanced each breast until he abruptly squeezed them severely, causing Clarisse to let out a small gasp. She wished it didn't hurt too much, but her pride was telling her that she could take this. She would not give in.

The Roman's invading hands crawled down to her flat stomach, hardened with muscles. His fingers teased her by letting the digits skim up and down her hips. Obviously, he enjoyed this much more than she did. The nineteen year old gave her another dark look—one filled with lust and obscenity while his hands slowly pulled down at the gray, poor of an excuse of pants that all prisoners were supposed to wear.

Clarisse felt violated the way the guard's eyes gazed vulgarly at her bare legs. His eyes flickered back to her. "Nice legs, daughter of Mars. It's surprising to find that there is a satisfying body hiding beneath all this hideous clothing."

"You Romans were the ones who decided for us prisoners to wear this so-called hideous clothing."

The guard's eyes flashed to black, and Clarisse knew that she had gone too far. She pushed her luck, despite the vulnerable position she was in. She shouldn't have said anything. She had just put herself in a worst situation than she already was.

Next thing she knew, her panties joined the gray pants that were pooled around her ankles. Her bottom half was completely bare, and she did all she could to protect herself. She forced her legs to move, maybe to aim a kick at the guard, but the injection had already affected her body. She could feel, but she couldn't move.

His erection was inside her, forcing a way in through her tight, shallow hole. It pained her, hurting more than knives splicing in because that hole really hasn't been touched before. She had been a virgin, and this Roman demigod was taking that away from her. Excruciating tears cornered at her eyes, but she blinked at them furiously, not letting them fall. She will not cry. She will not cry, she will not

Aching thrusts were acted upon her, and each messy and awful thrust against her body had her legs shaking at the impact. Her body was unwilling arching against the Roman, and the guy only smirked at this. What Clarisse thought was force, he took it as encouragement. His arm snaked around to her back, where his hand grabbed at her bottom, bringing her even closer than they already were, causing his erection to dig in deeper and deeper into her compact opening. The thrusts were gaining a certain momentum, going in harder and harder with each impending force. He wasn't even finished yet when he suddenly pulled away, leaving her clamping down her lip to keep from crying out as she flew forward in exhaustion.

Was it over?

Clarisse couldn't hold in her scream this time when the Roman guard plunged into her again.

An emotional thunderstorm raged within her blue eyes.

With precision, Thalia had managed to get away from the guard after untangling her hair from his hands. She ran out of the mines, a number of guards sure on her tail, as she tried to run after Clarisse. She lost the guards a while back, considering she was all too lithe and fast for them to keep up.

Thalia would have considered it a victory, outrunning the buffoons of those Roman demigods, but her temporary achievement had hit an all time low when she ventured into an abandoned closet in one of the empty corridors. It was the smell the piqued her endless curiosity. The odor struck her nose so violently, it made her cringe visibly, and had her almost reeling back. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she stepped forward. Normal people would have stepped away from the empty corridor with the smelly closet, but she reckoned she wasn't really normal.

She plugged her nose, and she had opened it.

She wished she hadn't.

The smell had come from this decomposing body, or what was left of it. Decaying skin of the body looked burned, spliced, and rotted. Some of the dead flesh looked truly back in some places, and there were spots of sickly green and yellow scattered along the skin. She could tell this had been the body of a girl, considering the long, dried blonde hair that was sprung and torn about. The stench was all too much, and Thalia was about to shut the closet back closed to relieve her nose of it, but something had stopped her.

Familiar brown eyes stared deadly up at the ceiling. She knew those brown eyes anywhere. Thalia froze upon the body, willing her eyes to go to the only proof that would tell Thalia whether this was her or not. Her eyes immediately went to the body's wrist, where a broken, yet shining, silver bracelet hung around the thin wrist. It was the same silver bracelet that Charles Beckendorf had given to his long-time girlfriend before he died in the last Titan war.

This deteriorating waste of a body was Silena Beauregard.

She looked to be four months dead.

Which had meant that the Roman demigods had used her, Clarisse, and Annabeth to their advantage. They used them, with Silena as blackmail, but Silena had been dead a long time ago.

Electricity cackled around her, her bright blue eyes emancipating with light as bright as Zeus' lightning bolt. The Romans couldn't hold anything against her anymore. She could kill them if she wanted to. Silena was already dead, so why should it matter to her? In her opinion, they were idiotically stupid to think that she wouldn't find out.

Echoes of distant footsteps were heading her way. Thalia didn't move, her gaze so fixated on Silena that nothing else really mattered. The guards were coming closer. Fine, let them come.

In a matter of seconds, the Romans were there. They paused at the scene, their eyes darting back and forth from Thalia's solidified stance to that Aphrodite girl's corroded body. The female demigod was the quickest to react, whipping out her curved knife before the other two males.

"Kill her," Thalia heard the girl whisper distinctively. "She's found out. There's no use in keeping her."

Those two males nodded, and they too, took out their respective weapons. The boys were the first to run to her, their arms poised, and ready to strike. Apparently, they thought that two on one would work. After all, what the males saw in front of them was a skinny, sick-looking girl their age, who worked in the mines all day, scraping pointed rocks for jewels.

The first male came at her, swinging his long sword in an arch. Before his blade could decapitate her, her hand reached out and caught a hold of the Roman male's wrist, snapping the hand down so forcefully, the boy was forced to let go of his weapon. Still holding his wrist, she snapped it the other way, causing the bone to crack, and the boy to let out a strangled gasp. The second male, that was coming in to help, swung his sword down. In response, Thalia moved her hand that was holding the first male's hand, using the boy's entire arm as a shield.

The second Roman boy's sword sliced at the first boy's hand, which had originally been intended for Thalia, resulting in a half-way cut that almost amputated his arm. The second boy reeled back in shock that his sword struck his mate and the other boy had cried out in pain, and Thalia used that to her advantage by pushing the injured boy to the other boy, knocking them both to the ground. She bent and quickly picked up the long blade and while the two boys struggled to get up, she narrowed her eyes and drove her sword deeply through both of the males' chests, so that the two bodies were stapled together by her sword.

She pulled the sword out, observing the blood that coated the blade. Considering the two dead boys she just killed, the blood was twice the amount of one strike. The copper smell drifted past her nose, causing them to flare upon reaction.

The Roman girl was running up at her now. At least this one put up a good fight. Her knife clashed with her blade and the sound spliced the quiet air. The way the Romans fight—they were supposed to be brutal. Thalia's witnessed their fighting before. But they didn't know that she learned too. Each blow this girl threw was hard, but every blow Thalia returned was even harder.

Two minutes in, Thalia's sword made it past the girl's defense. The tip of Thalia's blade swung at the girl's collarbone, cutting agonizingly until she saw the Roman girl's actual white bone sticking out of the blood. The girl coughed out blood, but Thalia took the chance and struck again at the girl stomach, killing her when she took her sword out. The girl fell spasmodically, but Thalia didn't notice.

She was already running the other way. It didn't take her much time to find where Clarisse was. Her image of Clarisse shocked her as much as Silena's body had.

Two Roman males lay about casually, including the scarred one that had injected Clarisse. He and the other one were barking in laughter with their pants unzipped as they watched their third comrade take Clarisse. Her friend was slumped against the wall, barely holding herself up. The third male had to grip her waist hardly to keep her from falling. As he forced herself upon her, Thalia could very well see the puddle of blood that drenched her gray pants and her panties, and started a small, puddle between her trembling legs.

The third male then finished his business as he removed himself and settled on the ground like his friends. Before Clarisse could even fall forward, the scarred demigod flew forward again, catching Clarisse in her arms, fresh and ready for another round. It was amazing how long she lasted.

Clarisse eyes were glazed into space, and Thalia had tried to meet them. Those eyes blinked slowly, finally noticing the blue-eyed girl in the background. Clarisse was looking, but she wasn't seeing.

Throughout their imprisonment, Annabeth had depended on Thalia, and Thalia had depended on Clarisse. To see Clarisse like this, the girl who had been Thalia's rock through this entire debacle…there were no words.

The constant, blaring red was in Thalia's eyes as the strode forward nimbly, and cut across the first male, slashing him left and right until he was a bloody disarrangement of his former self. Her sword went up and slashed at his head, rearranging his dead face. The other one that was lying on the ground shot up, his fingers fumbling to zip his pants back up but Thalia's sword swung across, catching him by the neck. His scream clogged up in this throat as his head threw off, his blood spitting out and drizzling the front of Thalia's shirt like gentle rain.

Thalia twitched upon seeing the scarred demigod who started this mess—this rape. The one who started it all by injecting whatever it was into Clarisse. He hadn't bothered pulling up his pants, but he was armed. Their blades met midway, but he proved no match for her. He was disarmed in a blink of an eye. Thalia clenched her teeth in anger as her sword slashed across his abdomen, red liquid once again spilling out. He fell backwards, and she let him. Clarisse, who was let go a moment ago, finally had the chance to fall as her knees gave out on her.

The tip of the sword skimmed the scarred one's body, teasing him with his sharpness as he choked. Digging the point of her sword on his left shoulder, she dragged it down to his right hip, immune to his pleas and cries. She did it again, starting from his right shoulder to his left hip. There was a large 'X' on his torso, along with the first, long cut that was sported across his waist. He was still living, since the cuts weren't deep enough to kill. She cut lacerations along his arms, thighs, legs, taking in satisfaction as she heard him scream. She didn't kill him just yet because she wanted him to feel absolutely everything. And then she let her sword plunge deeper, moving up and down like a saw. She cut him again and again.

And again and again and again…

But when she looked back, the scarred demigod was already dead. Had he died a while ago?

Oh, well.


The blue-eyed girl whirled around, sword pointing straight. Her arm relaxed and her grip slackened when she realized it was just a wide-eyed Annabeth gaping back at her. The blonde girl's jaw opened in surprise.

"Did—did you do all this?" she asked, gasping at all the blood and the gore.

Thalia's shoulder's slumped, but she did not feel regret. "Yeah."

"But, Silena—"

"Silena's dead."

Of course, that caused another gasp to come from Annabeth. This time, tears were threatening to fall. Her grey eyes searched Thalia's electric blue ones, hoping to find some deception in them. To her horror, Thalia was telling the truth.

Thalia looked away, avoiding the other girl's gaze. "How did you get out? I thought you were resting."

"One of the Romans came to check on me…" Annabeth swallowed dryly, keeping her tears back. "I told them I could go work again, and they let me…and then I was on my way to the mines when I found you and—" Annabeth's explanation died in her throat as she noticed Clarisse.

Clarisse's head tipped back against the wall, body sagging, her bottom half spread wide and naked. Her pubic cavity was thoroughly abused, the blood refusing to cease as it willingly flowed out of her system.

Annabeth rushed forward, holding Clarisse against herself. She was a smart girl—after all, she was Athena's daughter, so she quickly interpreted the situation easily. What pained her were how many times these three brutal Romans raped Clarisse. They could have gone all day if Thalia hadn't made it in time.

"Take care of her, alright?" Thalia asked, her gaze finally softening as she looked at her two friends. "There's got to be at least one infirmary in this place."

The blonde didn't argue against Thalia. She nodded, holding Clarisse tenderly. "Where are you going?"

Thalia shook her head. "That doesn't matter. Your priority right now is Clarisse. Don't worry about anything else."

With that said, Thalia was running off again, before Annabeth could even object.

Thalia sprinted towards the mines as though a Minotaur was chasing after her. She hadn't been able to run this fast in a while, and the feeling exhilarated her. But her intentions of wanting vengeance were beyond this feeling of freedom.

She was going to show all the prisoners how to fight back. Since most of them—Greek and Roman—worked in the mines or near them, this would be a perfect place for an example.

Nearly all the working prisoners looked up the moment she came storming in, making sure her footsteps were loud enough to gain the attention. Two guards noticed the disruption and weaved their way through the crowd of prisoners, making Thalia their one target. Thalia made this quick and easy, slicing clean cuts across these Romans, unlike her former opponents who had the unfortunate luck of catching most of her budding anger beforehand. Like she predicted, the prisoners watched in silence, drinking the scene in with shock.

Now she hoped that they would join her rebellion, rather than just stand there.

A brunette girl cautious stepped forward. Thalia instantly recognized her as Miranda Gardiner of the Demeter cabin. She, along with a few other Greeks, had been caught during one of the battles of the war. "Thalia?"

"You all realize that you can fight back, can't you?" Thalia shot back firmly. "The Romans only intimidate us because they think we've already lost because we're prisoners. Just look around," her hand gestured around the mines, "there are weapons littering all over the place. We can fight them back."

Albeit, it wasn't the best war speech, but it seemed like it was enough. Realization of the truth in Thalia's words began to filter the many prisoners' eyes. Their eyes looked at the weapons around—the very weapons that they helped make—with evident hunger in their malnourished irises.

"Hey!" yelled one of the guards that came in. He gripped the hilt of his sword threateningly. "Get back to work, all of—" he was abruptly cut off to find a dagger lodged in his throat.

The prisoners turned to find the brave culprit who dared. Turns out, the one who threw the dagger had been an eleven year old boy from the Hermes cabin.

And by that action, inspired by Thalia's words, chaos erupted all around.

The prisoners scrambled for a weapon, and once they had one in their possession, they all looked at Thalia for further instructions. Thalia merely smirked, pointing her sword towards the exit of the mines. As a newly refined army, the prisoners ran out and went to destroy every Roman guard they passed.

In less than twenty minutes, a large number of dead bodies loitered the ground—all of them having been Roman guards.

Thalia rummaged through one of the pockets belonging to a dead Roman girl. Her face lighted up when her hand brought out a set of matches. Perfect.

"Hey, Austin!" she shouted, causing a dark-haired boy from the Apollo cabin to turn around, his bow and arrow in two. He looked at Thalia inquiringly, his arrow readily notched. Thalia responded silently by nodding at his arrow and lifting the set of matches up for him to see.

He grinned knowingly. "Burn the whole place down?"

"You know it."

She threw the set of matches in time as her sword swung to block her opponent's strike. The Roman thrust again, but Thalia parried the throw with a loud clash. She bashed the butt of her hilt against the Roman's temple before bringing her sword down upon her opponent's shoulder, cutting the skin open to reveal a large and seeping wound that dripped down the entire arm. That had left the Roman wounded, but Thalia had none of that. She put him out of his agony by hacking his head out as swiftly as the motion of a guillotine.

She looked up in time to see that Austin and some of his fellow cabin mates sending their fire-tipped arrows all over the place, mindful of the allied prisoners. The fire hit the buildings, burning the grounds into ash and debris, and some of the arrows had intentionally hit the cowardly Roman guards that were on the roofs, hiding from the battle below. They fell with fire engulfing their bodies, thrashing until they hit the floor that would eventually lead them to their deaths.

The fires were quickly spreading, their embers rising with the colors of dried brown, red, and orange. As the heat of the fires increased, so did the prisoners' stamina. They were encouraged by the disaster around them. They too, were bloodthirsty for revenge, and they would not rest until every single Roman lay dead.

"Thalia! Thalia!" Max, son of Ares, came to her. "Reinforcements came!"

The girl tilted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"We've got help! Percy brought his army here with him."

Thalia's head snapped at the name of her boyfriend. He was here? Percy was here?

At the corner of her eyes, she caught the head of a black-haired boy, his hair almost as black as her own. He was tall and lean with lithe muscles, carrying a sword made of Celestial Bronze. Even at the edge of her eyes, she could see that his eyes, bright with anger, had the hue of the ocean.

Before she let this boy out of her sight, Thalia automatically moved forward as though she was possessed. She dodged the opponents that came at her, sometimes swinging her sword instinctively to strike at them or to maim them and add more red decorum to her already-messed up prisoner clothing. Hell, her entire body was drenched in blood. She blinked slowly, now behind the black-haired, seawater-gazed boy. She moved without thinking, always on impulse, reaching out and touched his elbow.

The boy swung his sword back quickly, but Thalia's reflexes matched his swiftness. She moved just in time for the tip of the blade to swipe a small cut across her cheek. She ignored the slight pain on her face and looked into the boy's eyes.

It was him.

Percy had stared for a moment, almost disbelieving what he saw. There had been a couple of times where he would dream that Thalia would be walking around camp, teasing him until he was forced to chase her. And once he did chase her, she would be nowhere to be found. It would then be all just a fruitless dream.

"T-Thalia?" he stuttered.

The daughter of Zeus nodded, not believing it herself. Months and months apart from each other and now that they were finally here, each other again—

Her thoughts were erased the moment he pulled at her roughly, their bodies crushing and molding together, despite the adamantine impact they both created. His lips collided with hers, needing and tasting what had been missing all those long months. Percy could taste her blood, since his teeth had scraped against her bottom lip carelessly, but neither of them really cared. He held her with no intention of letting her go, trying to prove to himself that she was actually there holding him.

The hard kiss dwindled down slowly, as he relaxed on his vice-like grip on her. He kissed her again, this time more softly, but not at all losing the intensity of the first one. He used his tongue to lick at the wound he caused on her lip, licking away most of the blood.

When they pulled away, Percy was worried to see the mad, wild look that was in her eyes. He shuddered to think what these Romans had done to her all these six months.

"I never stopped looking for you," he told her quickly, his voice and quiet in her ear. "I tried everything, Thals. I looked at the maps, I followed any of the traces, I even killed to get any type of information—"

"I know," she stopped him, reassuring to him that she understood. She pressed her nose against his neck, smiling when she caught a whiff of the ocean.

Percy breathed slowly, dropping a kiss against her neck, and dropping another on her shoulder. However, as he pressed another kiss to her shoulder, his eyes looked up and dangerously hardened. A Roman had been behind her, ready to stab Thalia in the back because she was preoccupied with him.

With a roar that didn't sound at all human, Percy quickly shoved Thalia behind his back, protecting her in any way that he could. Clutching Riptide, he violently bashed at the Roman, disarming his opponent and causing the weapon to fly a few meters away. His sword thrust in through the Roman's torso, causing the boy to open his mouth. Right when the Roman howled, Percy snapped his sword up and pushed the entire blade into that mouth, the sharp blade crushing and demolishing the lips and the rows of teeth. He pushed harder, sword going down his throat until he pulled it out, the Roman dead a long time ago.

Percy didn't really feel anything after that, besides the slender hand that gripped his own.

There wasn't a fine line differentiating between the Romans and the Greeks anymore. They way they fought, their methods of killing and winning were entirely the same now. Blood had become a normal sight for any demigod.

They were all savages.