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PJFD 30
🕑 Added 2025-10-26 21:24:29 +0000 UTCA Not-So-Fun Trip – Pt. 1
Eight days before the summer solstice, and after two days of traveling by train, Percy and the others decided to change their route.
They could have kept going by rail, but realistically, their luck at not being attacked for so long was almost miraculous. With each passing day, a strange uneasiness grew among them—a shared feeling, as if staying on the train was becoming increasingly dangerous… as if something was waiting for them. That sense of dread only deepened whenever they thought about continuing the journey.
However, Percy noticed something peculiar.
Every time Grover or Annabeth hesitated about moving forward, that same thread he had first seen after drinking his teacher’s strange elixir faintly appeared above their heads.
He tried repeating, again and again, that staying on the train was the fastest option, but whenever he did, those threads glimmered faintly and the others immediately rejected the idea, overcome by fear, nervousness, or simple discomfort.
Percy was confused. He didn’t fully understand what those threads were, but one thing was clear: they seemed to influence Grover’s and Annabeth’s thoughts, filling them with fear whenever they considered following his suggestion.
The problem was that Percy couldn’t tell whether those threads were helping them… or warning them. At least, they still seemed to have free will; it was more like a sixth sense telling them that continuing would be dangerous.
That gave him some comfort—at least they weren’t being controlled.
The strange part was that he didn’t feel it himself. He didn’t see any thread over his own head either. He even tried checking with a mirror… but nothing.
For now, he decided to follow his companions’ instincts and save the mystery of those threads for later.
That was how they ended up getting off in St. Louis.
As they stepped out of the station, Annabeth seemed slightly excited. She craned her neck to see the famous Gateway Arch, that great metallic curve rising into the sky.
To Percy, it looked more like the giant handle of a shopping bag in the middle of the city, as if the whole place were part of some giant’s market. And honestly… thinking of it that way was kind of cool.
Annabeth, however, looked at it with admiration and fascination.
“I want to make something like that,” she said, eyes gleaming, almost dreamily.
“The giant handle?” Percy asked with a smirk, pointing at the arch with his thumb.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Have you ever seen the Parthenon?” she asked, trying to ignore his nonsense.
“Only in pictures,” Percy replied.
Annabeth smiled softly. “Someday I’ll see it in person,” she said with determination. “I’m going to build the greatest monument to the gods ever made. Something that lasts a thousand years.”
Her voice was filled with conviction, but she immediately turned and pointed a finger at Percy, giving him a silent warning.
After all, they had that deal they’d made back on the train: she wouldn’t defend the gods to the death, and he would try not to criticize them so harshly.
And, to be fair, Percy had been this close to saying something sarcastic.
Seeing Annabeth’s finger aimed at him with that challenging expression, Percy only smirked.
“You’re not making it easy,” he said, suppressing the urge to let out a sharp comment. Still, a mischievous smile crossed his face as he shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts to himself.
His expression, however, gave him away—the look on his face made it obvious what kind of jokes were running through his mind.
Annabeth’s face tightened slightly in annoyance.
“Athena expects her children to create things. Not like a certain god of earthquakes,” she said, her tone dripping with superiority.
Percy said nothing. He just turned his gaze toward the water in the distance.
Annabeth quickly noticed his silence.
“Sorry… that was mean,” she admitted with a sigh. “You’re trying hard not to speak badly of the gods in front of me, and I did it anyway.”
Percy kept walking, not showing the slightest trace of anger. He waved his hand as if brushing it off.
“It’s fine. It’s not like you said anything untrue. And the deal was that you wouldn’t defend them to the death, and I wouldn’t insult them. You insulting them, though, is… kind of funny,” he said with a grin. “Just don’t expect me to defend them.”
Annabeth let out a small, tired laugh as she walked beside him.
Soon after, the three reached the city center. Since there was still time before their next transport arrived, they decided to do a bit of sightseeing.
At Annabeth’s insistence, both Percy and Grover agreed.
They visited the Arch, explored an underground museum, and bought some supplies for their journey. Throughout the tour, Annabeth didn’t stop talking about how the monument had been built, sharing architectural details that sounded straight out of a textbook.
Percy, pretending to listen as he chewed on a gummy candy, suddenly froze. His expression changed.
He closed his eyes for a moment, sharpening his senses. Then he slowly turned his head, scanning his surroundings.
He didn’t see anything… but he could feel it. A gaze. A presence. Someone—or something—was watching them. And deep inside, his instincts screamed that they shouldn’t be there.
“Annabeth,” Percy said, interrupting her speech with a completely serious look.
“The symbol of power of… the guy from the depths.”
Annabeth blinked, understanding immediately what he meant.
“The Helm of Darkness,” she whispered. “What about it?”
“Its power is to become invisible to everyone. To move through walls. To become the darkness itself. That’s why everyone fears him,” Percy explained, his tone grave.
“I’m surprised you know all that, considering you just got to camp and barely seemed to know anything about the Greek gods,” said Annabeth, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.
“My mom used to tell me stories about them,” Percy replied with a shrug. “Though lately… I’ve started to remember them much more clearly.”
He paused, glancing around with growing suspicion. “But more importantly… who’s to say he isn’t here right now, watching us from the shadows? How would we even know?”
Grover’s eyes widened, filled with unease. “That’s… impossible to tell,” he muttered nervously.
Percy sighed, a bit frustrated, and placed his hand near his bag, ready to draw his sword at the slightest sign of danger.
The three of them walked together, tense, toward the elevator that would take them to the top of the Arch—unaware that the feeling of being watched hadn’t left them for even a second.
Percy looked inside the elevator for a moment.
There, a plump woman and her small dog waited patiently.
But when Percy’s eyes met hers, something shifted.
That feeling he’d had all day—the invisible gaze on his back, the instinct that had kept him on edge—vanished in an instant.
The three stepped into the curved elevator, though Percy didn’t stop watching the woman. Every muscle in his body stayed tense, every sense on alert.
“Mmm? And where are your parents?” the woman suddenly asked, her smile unnerving. Her eyes were pitch-black; her teeth, sharp and worn down, the color of rotting brown.
She wore a tight-fitting dress that made her look like a human version of the tire mascot, topped with a wide Texan hat.
“Ah… um, they stayed downstairs,” Annabeth replied quickly, improvising with feigned calm. She didn’t notice that Percy had quietly slipped his hand into his magic bag, his fingers inching toward his sword, his expression growing more serious by the second.
“They’re scared of heights,” she added, trying to sound convincing.
“Oh, poor things,” the woman said in a rough, raspy voice, while the small chihuahua in her arms began growling furiously.
Its eyes—eerily similar to its owner’s—shone with a strange, almost human hatred.
“Calm down, my sweet,” the woman whispered to her pet, but Percy didn’t look away.
His gaze flicked between the dog and the woman, studying every detail, waiting for the slightest hostile move.
When the elevator reached its highest point, the woman gave them a simple smile before stepping out.
Percy followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into the crowd, and only then did he release his grip on his sword inside the bag, letting out a quiet sigh.
Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe.
Annabeth started talking about the Arch—its structure, its engineering, its design—pointing out each detail as if reciting from memory. Percy half-listened, staring out the tiny windows toward the horizon… though his eyes kept drifting, every so often, to where the woman was now strolling casually, as if the place belonged to her.
When it was time to close, the group was guided back toward the elevators. Percy, Grover, and Annabeth waited their turn alongside other tourists.
The next elevator was nearly full, so Percy stayed behind, gently pushing his friends forward.
“We can wait for you,” Annabeth offered, worried.
“No. Go ahead,” Percy said with a calm smile. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Grover and Annabeth watched him through the elevator doors. Percy’s smile seemed perfectly calm… until the doors closed.
The moment they did, and the elevator began to descend, that expression vanished, replaced by one of pure seriousness.
Without hesitation, Percy spun on his heel, reached into his bag, and drew his sword with near-instant speed.
At that exact moment, something lunged at him with a deafening roar.
A massive lion’s head burst from the shadows, jaws wide open, rows of dagger-like teeth glinting. Percy raised his sword just in time, blocking the bite.
The blade clashed against the creature’s fangs, a spray of sparks lighting up the air as if two metals were grinding together.
The impact pushed him back several feet, his shoes screeching against the metal floor.
Percy looked up, scanning the creature quickly.
It had the body of a lion, but its back ended in a serpent’s tail that thrashed wildly. From one side sprouted a goat’s leg with cloven hooves, and its skin was a grotesque mix of scales and fur. An impossible monster—yet unmistakably alive.
Not far away, the plump woman was watching with a wicked grin. Her forked tongue flicked between her teeth, and beneath the sleeves of her dress, her skin had turned greenish and scaly.
Percy felt the creature’s immense weight pressing down against his sword, forcing him backward with brutal strength. His arms trembled under the strain, but he held firm, feet digging into the Arch’s floor.
“Hehehe… feel honored, Percy Jackson,” the woman said, her tone dripping with cruel satisfaction. “Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero against one of my own kind.”
Her voice vibrated with a twisted, almost maternal pride. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am… Echidna.”
Percy stared at her, brows furrowed, his sword still locked against the monster’s jaws.
“Wait—aren’t those a kind of anteater?” he asked, dead serious.
Echidna’s smile vanished, her face twisting into pure rage.
And then, the Chimera’s roar shook the very top of the Arch.
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