THADDEUS POV
The Hydra lunged again, its newly grown heads writhing like a nest of demonic serpents. Percy barely dodged one snapping maw before swinging Riptide to deflect another. The creature let out a shriek of rage as one of Annabeth's arrows embedded itself into its scaly hide, but it barely seemed to slow down.
"Percy! Stop! You're only making it worse!" Annabeth yelled, losing another arrow.
"What are you talking about?!" Percy shouted back, still hacking away.
"When you cut off one Hydra head—"
The severed stumps twisted, writhing like something out of a nightmare. Then, as if they were glaring straight at Percy in personal offense, they burst outward, sprouting two new heads in place of the one he had taken.
"—Two shall take its place!" I shouted, thrusting my staff forward. A swirling surge of fire and ice exploded from the tip, forcing back the heads lunging for Percy.
Too late.
The newly formed heads snapped forward, their fangs slicing into his arms and legs. Percy grunted, leaping from one head to another in a desperate attempt to avoid the onslaught. He barely managed to keep his footing before one of the Hydra's fangs snagged onto his pant leg, yanking him into the air.
"Ah, come on—!"
He flailed, trying to shake loose while deflecting incoming heads with wild swings of Riptide.
Then, before any of us could react, the Hydra flipped him up—straight into its mouth.
The jaws snapped shut.
"Percy!" I roared, my grip on the staff crackling with energy.
I launched myself forward, a maelstrom of raw elemental magic bursting from my palms. Fire and wind coiled into a spiraling inferno, cutting through the oncoming heads as I fought my way toward him. A neck lunged at me—I twisted midair, conjuring a blade of pure ice, slashing through the beast's scales before spinning into a blast of flame to hold back another.
But for every head I knocked back, two more surged forward. I was running out of space, out of time—
"Grover! Do something!" Annabeth yelled, losing arrow after arrow in a desperate attempt to distract the beast.
Grover stood frozen, gripping his reed pipes. His eyes darted between the Hydra and me, then something clicked.
He stared at me.
I stared back.
We both knew.
"Just do it, man! Anything!" I shouted as I swung my staff, an arcing wave of frost blasting forward to freeze several heads in place.
The Hydra thrashed violently, its many heads writhing and snapping in every direction, but it was losing ground. Grover, breathless, dug through Percy's backpack until his fingers wrapped around something. His eyes widened.
"GUYS! DON'T LOOK BACK!" he shouted.
My brain took a second to process what he meant before I turned away, still launching blasts of fire and ice at the beast.
Grover stood just behind me, fumbling with the bundle of cloth in his hands. He ripped it open, revealing Medusa's severed head, the grotesque tangle of snakes still twitching slightly.
"Blergh! I forgot we had that all along!" I yelled between casting spells. I flung another wild mix of flames and cutting wind, the magical equivalent of screaming "BACK, FOUL BEAST!"
Grover yanked the tape off Medusa's eyes. The air itself seemed to shift, an unseen force rolling out like a silent shockwave.
The Hydra's heads turned toward the severed gaze.
For a fraction of a second, the beast seemed unaffected.
Then—
The stone crept.
It started at its claws, seeping up through its scales like ink spreading through water. The Hydra reared back, its heads twisting and snarling in agony. The transformation was agonizingly slow, its limbs locking up, its writhing mass of necks struggling as if trying to outrun the petrification crawling up its body.
One by one, its heads froze mid-snap, mid-scream, mid-roar.
The last of the green blood hardened in place.
The massive, snarling beast stood frozen before us—an eternal monument of its own defeat.
Annabeth, breathing hard, released one last arrow. It clinked against the Hydra's stone hide, bouncing off uselessly.
I finally lowered my staff, watching as the last flickers of elemental magic faded from my hands.
"Hah!" I exhaled, shaking my head. "If I knew we had that thing, I would've just yeeted it at the monster from the start!"
Of course, I wouldn't have thrown Medusa's head at the Hydra from the start, because that would require me to actually remember useful things in a crisis instead of getting distracted by my hyperfixations—which, unfortunately, is not one of my strong suits.
Percy, still dusting himself off, pried a few of the now-petrified Hydra's teeth from its mouth before hopping down. His shield—Luke's shield—was bent from the fight, but he still managed to use it as a makeshift slide, riding down one of the beast's frozen necks with a thud onto the museum floor.
Annabeth, arms crossed, shot me a look. "I really hate your ideas."
Grover, meanwhile, carefully placed Medusa's head back into the bag, re-taping her eyes shut with a grimace. "Yeah, well... you were right, Annabeth. She did come in handy."
I let out a low whistle, stepping back to admire our, uh... art installation. The Hydra, locked forever in an aggressive snarl, actually fit the Parthenon's interior. Honestly? If you told me this was part of the original design, I'd believe it.
"You know," I said, tapping my chin, "this is actually a pretty solid trade-off. I mean, the museum gets a brand-new, historically inaccurate statue, and we get a priceless artifact. It's like a—"
"Nope." Annabeth cut me off before I could go into full art history nerd mode.
Percy held up the green pearl, rolling it between his fingers. "Two down, one to go."
Then Annabeth—ever the responsible one—noticed the still-blaring alarm.
"Let's get back to the truck."
Oh. Right. That thing.
"I also forgot about that," I muttered. Then, realizing that this was a felony in progress, I yelled, "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" and bolted for the exit, leaving the others to catch up.
We sprinted through the museum, out the front doors, and across the lot—only to skid to a stop as red-and-blue lights flooded the parking lot.
Sirens wailed.
Three cop cars surrounded the truck.
An officer—sunglasses on at night because, of course, this guy had to be extra—stepped out of his car, hand on his holster.
"Raise your hands above your heads," he ordered.
I exhaled slowly.
"Of course, the cops show up this fast," I muttered. "This is America after all."
And once again, we found ourselves staring down the barrels of loaded guns.
Because clearly, one high-stakes life-or-death situation wasn't enough for the day.
We all raised our hands slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might land us in tomorrow's breaking news: Four Delinquents Arrested for Vandalizing National Monument.
But then—just as I was about to start pitching my "it's all a big misunderstanding, officer" defense—I heard it.
A distant rumble.
Low, powerful, guttural.
It grew louder. Louder. Closer.
The four of us exchanged confused glances, and for a moment, I wondered if this was it. If Zeus himself had finally gotten tired of our bullshit and decided to smite us with a divine semi-truck.
Then—before any of us could even blink—a black Humvee came barreling through the lot, tires screeching, metal crunching as it plowed straight through two cop cars like they were made of wet cardboard. It drifted to a near-perfect stop right in front of us, dust and smoke curling up in its wake.
The license plate read: WARMNGR.
Yeah. That's not ominous at all.
The cops immediately redirected their weapons. A few shouted warnings. Others just started firing.
The driver rolled down his window, completely unbothered by the gunfire.
He had the whole badass action movie villain look going for him—leather jacket, shaved head, chiseled jaw, soul patch (which, honestly, was the most concerning thing about him). He lowered his aviators and flashed a grin straight at Percy.
"Your ride's here."
Annabeth stiffened beside me. "Ares?"
Me and Percy—who were apparently on the same brainwave for once—both blurted out, "THE GOD OF WAR?!?"
Meanwhile, Grover just shouted something about getting in the damn car while bullets whizzed past our heads.
And yeah, normally, I wouldn't be so quick to hop into a random murder-Jeep driven by a literal war god, but considering the alternative was getting arrested or shot—I figured, why not?
We piled in.
Ares threw the Humvee into gear, let out a wild war cry, and gunned it.
The Humvee tore through the barricade at full speed, sending police scattering. More gunfire followed, but the bullets just bounced off the reinforced windows like they were pellets against a tank.
Because of course, they did.
Sirens blared behind us as half the police force of Nashville peeled out in pursuit.
Ares, meanwhile, just cackled—a deep, chaotic sound—completely loving the chase.
Annabeth, ever the rational one, finally regained enough composure to ask, "What are you doing here?"
I, personally, was still trying to process the whiplash of going from "about to be detained" to "high-speed chase with a literal deity," so I stayed quiet.
Ares just flashed his teeth. "Saving your ass."
And honestly?
That was the most terrifying thing I'd heard all night.
The sirens were deafening, the flashing lights of cop cars bouncing off the Humvee's interior like some kind of discount rave.
Ares? Oh, he was loving this. The bastard was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning as he whipped the wheel, sending us tilting dangerously onto two wheels while taking a corner at a speed that should not be possible.
Percy was bracing against the door like his life depended on it (which, to be fair, it did). Annabeth looked two seconds away from strangling Ares with her bare hands. Grover?
"We're all gonna die!" he shrieked.
Me? I stared out the window, watching a cop car stupidly try to take a shortcut and plow straight through a fire hydrant.
"I'm hungry. Can we stop by a burger place or something?"
That made Ares laugh. "Casualties of war," he said, completely unfazed as he sent another police cruiser flying into a lamppost.
Classic.
At this point, the police weren't just behind us—they were everywhere. Cars boxed us in from all sides, swarming like angry wasps.
Ares just cracked his knuckles. "Time to go stealth."
He flicked a switch on the dashboard.
And just like that, the Humvee vanished.
Not stopped. Not turned. Not teleported. It just disappeared—blending into the night like it had never been there at all.
The cops? Yeah, they had no idea what just happened. One second, they were in hot pursuit, the next they were slamming on their brakes, skidding wildly across the road, colliding with each other in total chaos.
Meanwhile, we drove off completely unnoticed.
Annabeth, still clutching the seat like she was fearing for her soul, turned to me, confused. "Aren't you at all bothered by any of this?"
I blinked. "Look, the last two weeks have been weird enough. And I say, there is nothing—and I mean nothing—that can surprise me now."
And then I took a deep breath and went off:
"I've been attacked by a minotaur, nearly squashed, got a concussion, visited by an old voodoo magic guy, fought a walking snake lady, is wanted, had a whole Indiana Jones sequence in a National Museum, and now I am here. In a literal war, god's disappearing Humvee. So no, Annabeth, I am not 'bothered' by this anymore. I am beyond 'bothered'. I have transcended 'bothered'. 'Bothered' is in the rearview mirror, and I am sitting comfortably in the front seat of pure indifference at this point. And unless the sky decides to start raining fire or Zeus himself comes down to slap me across the face, I have simply clocked the hell out."
Annabeth blinked. Percy and Grover stared at me.
Ares?
He just cackled and sped up.
---
The moment Ares said, "Anybody hungry?" I didn't even hesitate—I shot my hand up like a kid in class and practically launched myself out of the Humvee before anyone else could even blink. Priorities, people. Survival. Food.
The place we stopped at? Some joint called Chuck's Diner. Real classic, fifties-style, like something out of an old movie. Neon signs flickering, checkered floor, those little red leather booths—the works.
Ares killed the engine, turning to the rest of the group. "Alright, everybody out."
Annabeth, ever the responsible one, hesitated. "They're gonna be looking for this car. It's kinda'... unique..." she pointed out.
Ares just clicked a button on his keychain.
And the giant, gas-guzzling, bulletproof war machine we had just arrived in shrunk—no, morphed—into a sky-blue 1970s VW Hippie Van. Complete with peace signs and bumper stickers that read "Make Love, Not War."
"Not anymore," Ares grinned.
I squinted at the abomination before me, baffled. "Okay, hold on. Define 'unique' for me again, because I feel like we, as a society, have completely lost track of the original meaning. Historically speaking—"
BONK!
Annabeth whacked me on the back of the head with my own staff.
"Alright, I get it, genius. Shut up. Let's just go inside." She huffed, already making her way to the entrance.
I rubbed the back of my head, grumbling. "One day... One day, Annabeth Chase, I'm writing all of this down, and you will be the villain in my memoirs."
The second we stepped inside, I immediately started taking mental notes.
Chuck's Diner was the kind of place that screamed "We don't update anything past 1965, and we are proud of that fact." Modest, family-style, a little rundown but full of character. Vinyl booths, black-and-white tiles, neon lights humming overhead. The air smelled like coffee, grease, and the best damn burgers I was about to devour in my life.
From the jukebox, The Turtles' "Happy Together" played cheerily, like this was just some normal road trip and not a pit stop in the middle of a divine manhunt.
Then Ares stepped inside.
The second his boots hit the linoleum, the entire mood of the place shifted. I swear to the gods, it was like the air got heavier. Every conversation died mid-sentence. The cook in the kitchen peeked out, eyes wide. The waitress near the counter suddenly found literally anywhere else to be.
As Ares strode past the jukebox—
SCRAAAAATCH.
The record was skipped.
And just like that, Happy Together was gone—replaced by Van Halen's "Runnin' With The Devil."
I exhaled through my nose. Of course.
Ares strutted down the restaurant aisle like he owned the place—because let's be honest, he probably thought he did. His very presence carried this unshakable weight, this raw, unfiltered energy that turned the atmosphere hostile without him even trying.
Babies started crying. People, who had been enjoying their meals just seconds ago, suddenly snapped at each other, bickering over the stupidest things. A guy at the counter, who had probably been having a perfectly normal day, suddenly slammed his coffee down and cursed out the waitress for getting his order wrong.
And the thing is? She hadn't even taken his order yet.
Yeah. That was the kind of presence Ares had. Just pure, walking calamity.
The four of us trailed behind him, navigating through the growing tension like we were walking through a field of landmines. I noticed Grover clutching his shirt like he was ready to bolt at any second. Percy kept his head down, but I could see his shoulders tensing up like he was already preparing himself for some dumbassery. Annabeth, to her credit, kept her cool—outwardly, at least. But I knew her. She was calculating, analyzing, and already figuring out the best way to deal with this.
Me?
I was hungry. So unless Ares planned to monologue us into oblivion before I got my food, I wasn't about to waste my energy getting all worked up.
We reached the booth in the back of the diner, and Ares slid in like he was settling into a throne. The rest of us followed, sitting across from him, though the unspoken what the actual hell are we doing here? Was written all over my companions' faces.
The waitress—a poor, unfortunate soul who probably regretted coming into work today—arrived with menus.
Ares didn't even look at them.
"Thank you, ma'am. No menus. Four cheeseburgers, but make one of the four double patty. Rare." He stated that it was law.
Annabeth opened her mouth, "I'm a vegetar—"
"Four cheeseburgers, but make one of the four double patty. Rare." Ares repeated, his tone leaving zero room for argument.
The waitress nodded quickly and made her escape.
I leaned back against the booth, eyeing Ares curiously. "You know, I'm starting to think history might have done you a disservice, my guy. Either that, or I'm losing my mind. Also, thanks for the double." I smirked, then casually added, "You remind me of that old warrior's proverb—'A man is only as good as the battles he chooses to fight... and the food he orders for others.'"
Ares scoffed, amused. "Cute. But I don't need history to tell my story. I write it myself, kid."
Annabeth, who had not forgotten the actual reason we were sitting across from the literal God of War, cut in. "Why are you really here, Ares?"
Ares leaned back, stretching an arm over the booth. "Chiron sent me."
Annabeth narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"To bring you to Olympus," Ares said simply, like he was discussing the weather.
Percy, of course, wasn't having it. "We'll get there. We got time."
Ares raised a brow like Percy had just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. "Not much. You checked out the weather recently?"
Percy frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "I don't know about these three, but I have. No-lightning thunderstorms, chaotic tides, and let's not even talk about the absolute mess that's happening over the Atlantic right now."
I didn't even need to check my phone to know that nature itself was getting really pissed off. Ares didn't confirm it, but the smug glint in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
Yeah. Things were getting worse. Fast.
Ares leaned back, swirling a fry in a puddle of ketchup as if he were contemplating the fate of the universe—and knowing him, he probably was. The guy radiated barely contained aggression, but right now, he wasn't charging into battle. He was just watching, waiting, letting the pieces fall into place.
The four of us turned our heads toward the window. The sky had gone from just cloudy to end-of-the-world ominous in the span of five minutes. Thick, rolling black clouds slithered across the heavens like something alive, hungry, and very pissed off. Every few moments, a silent flash of lightning illuminated the swirling storm, but there was no thunder. Just an eerie, unnatural silence.
Then Ares cleared his throat, snapping our attention back to the booth.
"Every day, it gets worse," he muttered, voice gruff, like the words themselves annoyed him. "Zeus and Poseidon are gearing up for battle. Summer solstice is only fourteen days away. You may think you got time, but if that bolt ain't back where it belongs by then..." he smirked, a cruel, knowing look flashing in his eyes, "It's war."
Percy didn't hesitate. Didn't even blink.
"I'm getting my mom first."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Perce... I know we promised, but—"
"Kinda selfish, kid..." Ares cut in, tilting his head. "Puttin' your personal feelings over the fate of civilization. Riskin' all of humanity 'cause you got mommy issues."
Percy's jaw clenched. "Once Zeus finds out I'm not the Lightning Thief, word will spread fast. Then Hades will kill my mother."
Ares scoffed, "True..." as if Percy had just reminded him of something mildly inconvenient.
"So I need to save her first, then convince Zeus of my innocence." Percy declared like that was that.
"Unfortunately," Ares said, flashing his teeth in something that was not a smile, "you don't have much choice in the matter. You're my prisoner now."
Before any of us could fully process what he just said, the waitress arrived with the food. She set down our plates, then hesitated for a second too long, like she felt something was off but couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Ares lifted his burger bun, examined the beef like he was searching for the meaning of life, and then snapped his fingers at the waitress. She nearly jumped out of her skin before scurrying away.
"Eat up," he said, taking a bite. "You got a long road ahead, dimwits."
I grabbed my double-patty cheeseburger, and for the first time all day, I actually felt at peace. If I died right now? No regrets. Maybe a few. But at least I'd die full.
Ares didn't say anything for a while, just ate. Then, casually, like he was bringing up the weather, he asked the million-dollar question.
"So, if you ain't the Lightning Thief... who is?"
We exchanged looks.
"Hades?" Grover guessed.
Ares let out a sharp laugh. "No way."
I nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Lore speaking, I agree. At first, it seemed too obvious—Hades having Percy's mom, the whole underworld thing—but when you really think about it, something else is at play. This is a setup. A big one. And whoever's pulling the strings? They know exactly what they're doing."
Ares raised an eyebrow. "Look at you, smart guy. What else you got?"
I leaned back, took another bite of my burger, and smirked. "Oh, I got theories, War God. Plenty of 'em. The real question is—how much do you already know?"
Ares leaned back, stretching his arms along the booth as if he had all the time in the world, which—being a god—he probably did. He chewed on a fry, watching us like we were pieces on a chessboard.
"Not a lot... but enough." He finally answered.
I narrowed my eyes. "Vague. Real helpful."
Ares shrugged. "Look, kid. If Hades had the bolt and the son of Poseidon, he'd have all the leverage he needs to bring Olympus to its knees. I'd bet my best dagger he's using your mom to bait you into a trap."
"And maybe Hades isn't that dumb." I countered, setting my burger down. "No, whoever stole the bolt is way smarter than that... someone who wants a war between the gods. Someone who benefits from chaos."
As I said this, my eyes drifted toward Ares. So did everyone else's.
Ares noticed. His nostrils flared, and he let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"Oh, because I'm the God of War, I must've taken it?" He slammed a fist on the table, rattling the plates. "WRONG. My business is here, on earth. And if you hadn't noticed... it's booming right now."
He wasn't lying. The world was already a mess without a divine war spilling over into it. But that still didn't answer the real question.
"Then who else would steal it?" Annabeth pressed.
Ares wiped his mouth, leaned forward, and smirked. "Someone real clever... a master strategist..." His gaze slid toward Annabeth.
I followed his line of sight purely out of instinct, then raised a brow. "Oh, now you're just throwing darts in the dark."
"Like Athena." Ares finished.
Annabeth froze.
"My Mom?!" Her voice went up an octave.
Grover and Percy turned to her, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern.
Annabeth's hand slammed onto the table, causing the silverware to jump. "You think my mom stole the bolt?!"
"Mother, daughter... all the same," Ares mused. "Maybe the real question is... why are you here? Grover's Percy's protector. But you? Did you come along to keep an eye on these two? Or maybe..." he leaned in, eyes glinting like the edge of a knife, "to tie up loose ends?"
Annabeth's face was pure fire. "My mom doesn't start wars!"
Ares smirked. "First time for everything."
Then, just as the tension couldn't get any worse, his attention flicked to me.
"And you," he said, voice thick with accusation. "You're a stranger to our world. No godly parent. No legacy. A wildcard. A perfect suspect."
I took a deliberate chomp of my burger, chewed, swallowed, then met his gaze. "Yeah, that may be true, but you don't have an ounce of proof on me. No motive. No evidence. Just a gut feeling and a bad attitude."
Ares tilted his head, watching me like a predator sizing up prey. Then, after a pause, he grinned.
"Fair point, kid." He popped another fry into his mouth.
Ares suddenly stood up, gripping my collar like I was some punk teenager about to get a lesson in back alley etiquette. Before I could even process what was happening, he dragged me outside like some unruly kid getting kicked out of a bar.
"Can I at least bring my burger?" I asked, gripping it protectively.
Ares rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
Well, at least he had some decency.
We stopped by an alleyway, the distant hum of passing cars filling the silence. I leaned against the brick wall, casually taking a bite out of my burger. He stood there, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes scanning me like he was trying to decipher a code that refused to be cracked.
"What do you want this time?" I finally asked between chews.
"Just making sure of things, kid." His tone was wary, but not outright hostile.
"Oh, I get it," I said, licking some sauce off my thumb. "Since I'm the perfect suspect, right? No godly parent. No clear lineage. Just some anomaly running around like a glitch in the system."
Ares didn't laugh, didn't scoff—he just kept watching me, which somehow made the whole situation feel worse.
"No, no," he said finally, shaking his head. "I still don't know what to consider you as. Either a threat..." He let the word hang, letting its weight settle between us. "Or something useful."
"Ah, but the definition of useful in your book is probably something like 'willing to die for my amusement,' right?" I quipped.
He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
I sighed, finishing off the last bite of my burger and wiping my hands on my jeans. "Look, if you don't trust me, that's fine. I don't even trust myself half the time. But I can tell you this—whatever mystery you think you're trying to solve about me? I don't have the answer. Never have. Maybe never will."
Ares tilted his head, intrigued but unconvinced.
"My past is a mess of missing pieces, scattered across time like a bad game of chess where no one remembers who made the first move," I continued, gesturing vaguely. "And if even I can't figure it out, what makes you think you will?"
Ares exhaled sharply, rubbing his chin like he was debating whether to punch me or nod in approval.
"You talk too much," he finally said, voice gruff.
"And you kidnapped me in the middle of my meal," I shot back. "So I think we're even."
Ares let out a short, dry laugh. "You've got balls, kid."
"Glad to hear it," I said. "Now, if you're done with your little mystery interrogation, I'd like to get back inside before Annabeth starts thinking I'm selling my soul for another cheeseburger."
Ares didn't stop me as I turned back toward the diner, but I felt his gaze burning into my back.
"Just remember, kid," he called after me. "The past has a way of catching up. And when it does... make sure you're ready for whatever it brings."
I paused for a fraction of a second, then kept walking.
Yeah. Like I haven't been trying to do that my whole damn life.
"One more thing, kid."
Ares' voice cut through the night, stopping me in my tracks. I turned back, licking the last bit of sauce off my thumb.
"Yeah?"
"I'm picking up rumors," he said, arms crossed, gaze distant, like he was looking through me instead of at me. "Coming from across the sea."
That caught my attention. "I'm listening."
Ares leaned against the alley wall, his expression unreadable. "Something's stirring in the magical world over there. Something big. It reeks of war, but it's too clean. Too neatly wrapped. Like someone's making all the right moves for all the wrong reasons."
I raised a brow. "Didn't know you guys kept tabs on the wand-wavers."
Ares chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Olympus moves with the heart of civilization. Wherever that goes, we follow. There was a time we called the UK home, back when it was the center of the world. And during those early medieval years, when magic flourished? The ones who got attuned to it—the ones born with it? They weren't just random."
I frowned. "You're saying...?"
"They were Legacies." He nodded. "Descendants of demigods. The children of the gods who stayed behind when Olympus moved on. Those so-called wizards and witches? A lot of them have a small amount of divine blood in their veins, even if they don't know it."
Okay. That was a lot to take in. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process it. "And you? No magic-wielding offspring?"
Ares snorted. "Magic's for the tricksters, the thinkers, the manipulators. I never had much use for it—war is simple. You win, or you die. But the others?" He shrugged. "Plenty of 'em left their marks. And now, those marks are making noise again. Question is... why now? Why after all these years?"
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "For a god of war, you're suspiciously well-informed."
Ares smirked, pushing off the wall. "Don't get used to it, kid."
"Too late," I muttered, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
Ares tilted his head, arms still crossed like he was sizing me up. "You know, kid, I gotta admit—I like you."
I raised a brow. "That's either a compliment or a death sentence. Can't tell which yet."
He let out a sharp laugh, low and dangerous. "Depends on how you play your cards."
I leaned back against the alley wall, mirroring his stance. "So, what is it? You like me 'cause I don't piss myself in your presence, or 'cause I actually listen?"
Ares smirked. "Bit of both. You're sensible—which is rare for your kind. Most half-bloods either run their mouths or run their feet. You? You actually think. And that's dangerous."
I let that sink in for a moment. "You sayin' I'm dangerous, War God?"
Ares narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't in a threatening way. More like... curiosity. "Potentially. Not because of what you can do—but because of what you know. Or at least, what you choose to know."
I nodded slowly. "And here I thought my biggest skill was making fire and ice look cool."
Ares scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, you got tricks, but tricks don't make a man. It's the choices. The way you see things. You could be a real game-changer if you play it right."
I exhaled, looking off toward the distant skyline. "That a warning or a job offer?"
Ares grinned. "Take it however you want. Just know this—you keep walking this road, and eventually, you're gonna have to pick a side. And when you do..." He tapped his temple. "Make sure it's your choice. Not fate's. Not someone else's. Yours."
I gave a lazy salute. "Duly noted."
He rolled his eyes. "Smartass." Then, with a final nod, he turned back toward the diner.
I lingered for a second, watching him go. Sensible. Dangerous. Game-changer.
Huh.
I wasn't sure if Ares was giving me a warning or a compliment. But knowing him for the past few hours? Probably both.
---
As soon as we left the diner, reality came knocking again. We were still fugitives, still heading back to New York, and still running on borrowed time. Ares wasn't exactly thrilled about letting us do things our way, but Annabeth had some damn good persuasion skills. Not that I'd ever say that out loud—her ego's already big enough.
The God of War's van pulled over on a deserted country road, somewhere between here and who-the-hell-knows. I wasn't keeping track. Directions were never my strong suit, and honestly, I was too busy digesting my burger to care. Amazing work, Thaddeus. Truly remarkable.
The back door slid open, and the four of us climbed out. Ares rolled down his window, barely sparing us a glance.
"I'll tell Chiron I couldn't find you," he said, his voice casual but loaded. "It's the best thing I can do before he asks someone else to track you four idiots down."
Percy gave him a nod, then exchanged a look with Annabeth. Hopeful? Maybe. Or maybe just relieved we didn't get impaled on the ride over.
Ares cracked his knuckles on the steering wheel. "I'd wish you good luck... but your survival ain't exactly in my best interest."
Then his gaze landed on me, sharp and lingering like he was debating whether to say something or just run me over for the hell of it.
"And you," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "I'm watching you."
I smirked. "Hope you like what you see."
His lip curled in amusement—or irritation, hard to tell—before he rolled up the window. Then, without another word, the van erupted in a ball of light and took off with a sonic boom, disappearing into the night like some kind of celestial muscle car.
We all stood there for a moment, watching the spot where he used to be.
Grover scratched his head. "Sweet guy."
I shrugged. "Eh, could be worse."
Could be a lot worse.
The moment Ares' van disappeared into the night, leaving only a faint rumble in its wake, Percy turned to Annabeth and—oh boy—went straight for the heartfelt, sincere moment.
"Just like your mom. A master strategist," he said, voice dripping with admiration and something else I definitely wasn't going to analyze right now.
I immediately exchanged a glance with Grover, both of us silently agreeing to act like background NPCs in their little moment. Nothing to see here, folks.
Annabeth, clearly touched, gave a small smile. "Thank you so much."
Then they leaned in. A little too close. A little too... oh gods, are they actually about to kiss this time?
Before I could process that horror, Grover, cleared his throat loudly.
It was the equivalent of setting off a car alarm in the middle of a heartfelt confession.
Percy and Annabeth instantly pulled back, acting like they weren't just about to enter the romance arc.
Grover, bless him, looked as casual as ever. "Okay. Which way is the next pearl?"
Percy, still slightly flustered, quickly fished out the map and unfolded it. The third location pulsed and glowed: LAS VEGAS, NEVADA. LOTUS LAND CASINO.
Before any of us could comment, a distant train whistle echoed through the air.
Percy, back to full heroic determination mode, took off down the railroad tracks, motioning for us to follow.
"We've got fourteen days to save my mom. And the world. C'mon!"
That's my bro!