Percy Jackson and the Child of Victory (Annabeth Chase x Reader)

Annabeth Does Obedience School

Y/N POV:

(A/N: I'm skipping Procrustes)

We all walk out of the building, I'm covered in Ichor, we had just run into one of Percy's 'Brothers', another son of Poseidon, Procrustes, Percy and I cut him up to size. Ichor has an unpleasant or fetid smell, Like metal or some sort of rotten fruit.

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, Looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS. Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING. It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I once asked Grover if we could find Donnie here in the Underworld, but he explained that Satyrs didn't have souls and thus couldn't end up here. We both left the topic there since it was too painful to talk about. It was then that I realized that I had never taken the time to mourn Don. However, I knew that he wouldn't want me to dwell on the past. He would want me to stay strong and keep moving forward with the quest.

I was still hungover from the amount of drinks I had, I can't even remember what happened that day, Annie refuses to tell me, turning red when ever I ask. the others went over the plan, Percy had taken the pearls out of his pocket, the four milky spheres the Nereid had given him in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. Annie put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine." She gave Grover and me a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem." "Uh yep" he looked at us all and smiled. he slipped the pearls back into his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt." We walked inside the DOA lobby. Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel grey. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. People were sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator.

"Well this is depressing"

Nobody moved or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. I could see right through their bodies. The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him. He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-coloured skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag. I read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?" I asked as I fondly remembered Chiron

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python, right before it eats you. "What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," I said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H -A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said as I held back the urge to tear his hair out.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?" oh I knew who this guy was now, the one who transported the dead to the inners of the Underworld, His question must have caught in the stomach like a fastball. I looked at Annabeth for support. "We want to go to the Underworld," she said. Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."