fandomhigh | BWI Airport | Portalocity Lounge | Saturday Morning

In most instances, no one would bat an eye at seeing a boy and his dog. In this instance, some people might actually run away screaming at the sight of this boy and this dog. Percy Jackson didn’t look all that intimidating on his own. He was average height, dark haired and carried a ball point pen in the pocket of his jeans.

Of course, the huge hellhound sitting behind Percy might have turned a few heads if not for the Mist. Thankfully, most mortals didn’t see Mrs. O’ Leary, Percy’s inherited hellhound sitting lazily in the BWI airport lounge (how the hellhound had fit, Percy didn’t know).

Percy himself didn’t look as relaxed as his dog. His eyes were jumping left to right, almost as if he expected something to attack him or for Luke to emerge from the crowd with that more smirk than smile look on his face.

This was about the fourteenth school Percy had been to since age twelve. He didn’t expect it to last. He wanted to be at Camp Half Blood. Instead, he was waiting in an airport lounge for a shuttle to cart him and his hellhound to a place called Fandom.

Percy frowned. He didn’t think this day could get worse.

[Open shuttle bus! Mrs. O’ Leary is a big ole hellhound that most mortals probably would not see because of something called the Mist. If you’re not exactly all the way mortal, you’d see her though. She’s not going to attack anyone, I promise.]

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"That doesn't sound anything like what happens." And still...he didn't feel like this girl would lie to him. "Zeus would get crabby if my father started using lights to call people down to the Underworld."

"I've been there," George insisted. "Little girl on a train, old lady hit by a car, guy impaled by his own Waffle Haus sign. They die, they see lights, and they go into the lights. I don't know what's after that. Maybe then they get on the river with that Charon guy."

Nico frowned, thinking about this and that Percy and the portal thing and Chiron. "Oh gods," he said. "Please tell me your from some other dimension. Like the one with no fish or something."

"We have fish," George said, missing his point for a minute. "I don't .... know ... about dimensions but none of this shit sounds familiar, to me. Are you ... does that mean you don't know where Seattle is?"

So lost.

Oh Hades. This girl should just talk to Percy. It'd be easier on everyone. "Um, no? But maybe we're not both working for the same guy?"

"I'd agree with that," George said, because it sounded simpler, and trying to figure out where the river came in was making her head hurt. "But you are working for him, then? Hades, or Death, or ... whoever?"

"No, but yes? He's my father and the god of the Underworld. So my powers are similar to his, and I pray to him before battle in hopes of having his godly support, but I'm not an employee. I'm a demigod." There just had to be a difference in that. Right?

"Wow."

Excuse her for a moment while her brain tried to catch up to all of that. He'd mentioned being a son of Hades, yes, but the rest of it -- praying and battle and demigod -- that hadn't really ... occurred to her, no.

"... Okay, yeah."

Without even meaning to, she added, "I'm ... just a reaper."

She wasn't going to tell people, but demigod made her own secret seem really sort of lame.

"A reaper? Cool!" That was likely not the reaction she would want, he realized too late.

She flashed him a quick grin at that. "It sounds like it would be, but it's not," she said. "Except to random Goth kids. The job itself sucks."

BWI Airport | Portalocity Lounge | Saturday Morning | August 28

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