Okay - this is my first Percy Jackson fan fiction! I couldn't think of a name, but I thought "Earth's Warfare" sounded alright. I tried to make it different from all of the other ones that are so overdone (like "Percabeth" or "PJatO")

Anyway, since this is just a prelude, it is short - my chapters will definitely be way longer than this. AND this story will definitely contain Percy x Annabeth, so don't worry

I am majorly busy with school so I cannot guarantee scheduled updates. I will update whenever I can, but I WILL try and update in a timely fashion. In other words, I will not leave you waiting months between chapters. I can't give you an accurate estimation of how long it will be 'till each chapter comes out, but perhaps as the story goes on I will get a better idea and get a routine going.

Feel free to comment! Bash this, love this, critique this - do what you will! Just - please - don't be rude.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Percy Jackson or the other characters. If I create my own character or such, I will inform you. So no confusion. (like anyone would actually think I own Percy...I wish xD)




Searing pain.

It was almost unbearable. There was no respite from the burning, no break from the horrible agony constantly coursing through my broken body. Fear and despair were the only emotions I could feel – the only emotions they allowed me to feel. That - and pretty much any other emotion that had to do with misery and suffering.

I gritted my teeth as another bout of light-headedness hit me. Closing my eyes tight, I waited for the dizziness to pass.

A while later – I'm not sure how long; time was of no matter to me at the moment – I was finally able to feel the nausea fading, enough so I could think a bit clearer; though I'm not sure that was such a good thing… With a fuzzy mind came the disconnected thoughts, resulting in a slight numbing of the pain. With a sharp mind came the better focus on each individual source of hurting; more of a chance to let my mind slip and go insane, as I have been trying so hard not to do.

But if I was to figure out an escape plan, I would have to bear it – I've done wonders so far considering.

As hard as I could with my depleted strength, I yanked at my bonds. Again and again and again I pulled and struggled and yet all I succeeded in doing was reopening all of the recently scabbed over wounds on my wrist - a result brought on by the chafing of the manacles.

Hot blood was pouring down my bruised arms and down my bare chest. My shoulder blades burned incessantly from being suspended above the ground.

I felt as if I were slowly dying inside.

They wouldn't let me die though, that I was almost sure of. They need me for something – for some ritual or - or…to use me as some sort of weapon. If they wanted me dead, they could, and probably would have done it already. As hard as it was to admit, the thought scared the hell out of me.

I need to get out of here.