'Ello there!

So, I've been MIA for two months and a week. Did you guys miss me?

Oh, forget it.

So I was fangirling over Cap again (you know me), when HOH suddenly came out, and BOOM! Percy Jackson day, orange and purple shirts all over the place, blue food, ballpoint pens and it feels like I'm in love with Percy Jackson all over again! And LEO VALDEZ IS JUST SO CUTE!

High school is cruel.

I have a few dozen tests in a month with subjects that are, well practically use less. (Saying use less sounds less cruel than useless.) I mean, what's up with LS? The quality of life has nothing to do with the freedom of press, as far as I'm concerned. And OC? Jeez, gimme a break, guys. It hasn't even happened, probably won't happen and even if it did happen, it's none of my concern. The worst of it is that I'll have to reschedule my dental appointment. Also, what's up with T&L? "To do a running stitch, place the needle two squares to your front, then two squares to your left." It sounds like the Hokey Pokey, for goodness' sake!

*Okay, calm down, MW. Calm down. I'm sure your school has a perfectly good reason for teaching us strange subjects. Such as if you're going to become a professional stitcher and stitch needlebooks and sell them for two pence all day long.*



Though technically, I'm not updating my stories. I'm just making up new ones. Le me is a hypocrite.

DISCLAIMERSSSS! The Avengers belong to Marvel (though technically they don't appear in this chapter) and Percy Jackson, the Seven and all related material belong to Rick Riordan.

Edit 22/10/13: I found a few mistakes in this chapter. Yay! So I came back and corrected it.

A dark place, filled with ghostly shadows that seemed to tug at him as he walked past.

He tried not to look at them, and continued walking instead. The dim torches on the wall did nothing to illuminate the place, only succeeding in casting light on the gruesome encarvings on the wall: Olympus in ruins, the arches and palaces all in a mess, golden ichor dripping off the walls, and the gods nowhere to be seen. The ground of the home of the gods was cracking open, something surely terrifying beneath it. He shuddered just imagining it.

He was almost thankful when the horrible passageway ended and opened up into a massive throne room. The walls of the room were blood red, and water from the River Styx was dripping down it sickeningly. Two hellhounds sat on either side of the room, and in the middle of it all was a large chair, the back of the chair facing towards him.

He took a deep breath. "My lord," he croaked, trying hard not to let his voice show any fear and failing.

Slowly the chair turned towards him. Sitting in it was a man, visibly smirking, though the darkness made it hard to make out his face.

"Nakamura." He stiffened at the sound of his name. "So glad to have you back. My brethren killed you, I hear?"

Ethan gritted his teeth. "That is true, my lord. Though-"

The man chuckled. It was a horrible sound, as if somebody had caught a bad cold. "My boy, you have nothing to be afraid of. I do not doubt your strength, nor your intelligence. If not for your skill, you would never have been able to avoid Thanatos as he came hunting down the escaped dead. Nor would you have been able to take that valuable little, ah, trinket. Speaking of it, where is it?"

Ethan reached into his pocket and fished out a red piece of cloth.

"Ah, excellent." The man laughed again, though it sounded like screeching to Ethan's ear. "Would you care to do the honours?"

Grudgingly, he took out his sword and stabbed it into the ground below. The ground cracked open, revealing black soil underneath. The demigod also took out something white and shiny- a tooth. He planted it firmly in the soil.

A horrible screeching noise, and Ethan flinched. He watched as the all too familiar skeleton in navy uniform crawled out of the newly formed pit and glared at him.

Ethan offered it the red cloth.

The spartus sniffed the cloth once, twice, and its face broke into a toothless grin, satisfied. It screamed in Ethan's face and ran off into the hallway.

Ethan repeated the procedure. Soon he had produced a dozen sparti, all running off with the scent of the red cloth fresh in their Voldemort-like nonexistent noses.

"Excellent." The man rubbed his hands, reclining in his chair. "Soon, our targets will be attacked, and our plan will be set into motion… such a wicked, wicked plan. Even I get – what do you mortals call it now? Ah yes- the shivers when I think of it."

The immortal started laughing again. It was a deep, throaty laugh, and the walls of the palace seemed to laugh along with him.


My ANs are even longer than the actual chapter here. Cranberry!

Ah, forgive me this time. I have no inspiration.

Anyhow, if I have time I'll type up another chapter of this or of BtV. Review please!