chapter eleven
❛ stretched limits ❜

━━━━━  TO NO ONE'S surprise, it was Annabeth's idea. She loaded the other questers into the back of a Vegas taxi (as if they actually had money), telling the driver; "Los Angeles, please."

              The cabbie chewed his cigar, sizing up the four questers. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay upfront."

              Annabeth shifted in her seat, starting to pull out her green LotusCash card. "You accept casino debit cards?" she asked.

              He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through, first."

              She leaned forward, holding the green card between her pointer and middle finger. "Here."

              However, the man only looked at it skeptically. Josephine didn't blame him — the card looked like one that would come with a playset for kids to learn how money transactions work.

              The blonde noticed his skepticism. "Swipe it," she invited him, nodding at the machine upfront.

              Wordlessly, he passed the cigar from his right to his left, snatching the card out of Annabeth's fingers. He reached forward, swiping the LotusCash in the machine — the meter machine started rattling on the dashboard. The lights flashed, and finally — an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.

              The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at the four through his rearview mirror, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles — uh — Your Highness?"

              Annabeth sat up a little straighter. Josephine could tell she liked the Your Highness title. "The Santa Monica pier. Get us there fast — and you can keep the change."

              Maybe she shouldn't have told him that — the "you can keep the change" part. The cab's speedometer never dipped below seventy the whole way through the Mojave Desert. On the road, the questers had plenty of time to talk. Percy told Annabeth, Grover, and Josephine about his latest dream; however, the more he spoke, the more he seemed to be forgetting. The Lotus Casino had short-circuited all of their memories.

              "The servant called the ..." the boy trailed off, not knowing what to name the other person talking. "It — it was the same voice from the dream with my dad and Zeus on the beach shore. The dream where they were fighting, you know? The servants — I thought I recognized the voice, but I'm not sure anymore. But the servant called him 'my lord' — or something like that. I don't remember that well." He shrugged, looking annoyed and bothered.

              "The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested, her eyebrows knitted together. "Or the Rich One? Both are nicknames for Hades."

              "Maybe ..." Percy agreed, however, he didn't sound sure of what she was suggesting.

              "That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover spoke up, looking away from the taxi's window and back to the others. "That's the way it's usually described."

              The son of Poseidon shook his head. "Something's wrong," he insisted, making Josephine frown. Back at Camp, he had been so sure that Hades was the god who had orchestrated the thievery; now, he was taking that all back. "The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit ... I dunno. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

              Josephine was sunk in her seat, chewing on her bottom lip as she racked through her knowledge of Greek mythology — unfortunately, she was coming up with nothing. If it was the same voice she had heard in that dream back at Camp, Percy was right, that voice didn't sound like a god's voice. God's voices don't make the blood run cold immediately, that's only after they're angry and threatening someone's life. It was a time like this when she wished Onesimus would speak up and at least offer up something (even if that offer would also include an insult about Josephine along with it).

              Annabeth's eyes widened. It looked like she had come to a horrible conclusion.

              "What?" Josephine asked, sitting up.

              Annabeth's eyes snapped over to her. "Oh! N-nothing. I was just — No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the Master Bolt, and something went wrong —"

              "Like what?" Percy prodded.

              "I — I don't know." The daughter of Athena shook her head. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean — a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the Bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had found the Bolt already."

              Josephine wasn't sure what was wrong with Annabeth. The blonde looked petrified. What had she come up with to make her that scared? Josephine thought about her latest dream, where the voice — it still felt weird to give the voice a name, as if it was a real entity; a person — had spoken to her. Someone wanted Onesimus to talk to her. Was it Apollo? Was it that voice she heard in her dream back at Camp, the one telling her in time she will fall? That voice and Onesimus didn't sound the same. But how hard could it be to change the sound of your voice when you are already able to speak inside the mind of a demigod?

              "But if I'd already retrieved the Bolt," started Percy, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

              "To threaten Hades," Grover suggested, shrugging lightly. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

              Josephine's eyebrows raised into her hairline. "I thought you were a pacifist," she pointed out, poking Grover in the shoulder lightly. "You think some evil thoughts."

              The satyr smiled slightly. "Why — thank you!"

              "But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," Percy reminded them, looking at the three individually. "If the Master Bolt is one, what's the other?"

              Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Annabeth was looking at Percy as if she knew what his next question was, and that she was silently willing him not to ask it — Percy didn't seem to care, asking; "You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you, Annabeth? I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

              "Percy ..." She glanced over to the cabbie, "let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades ... No. It has to be Hades."

              Wasteland rolled by. They passed a sign that said: CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. Josephine got the feeling they were missing one simple but critical piece of information. It was like when she stared at a common word she should know, but couldn't make sense of it because only one or two letters were floating around in her vision. And it started to become even more confusing — the longer she stared at the word, the more letters that started warping and floating. The more she thought about the quest, the more she was sure that confronting Hades wasn't the real answer — the real answer was floating around like those few letters on a simple word, and they wouldn't stop. There was something else going on; something even more dangerous.

              I never thought I would ask this, she started, her tone pleading, but Onesimus please talk to me. You have the answers, I know you do!

              His cruel voice didn't respond.

              The brunette audibly sighed and looked out the window.

              Percy leaned over to her, whispering; "You have any more dreams?"

              Her brows knitted together. "What ...?" she muttered back. For a split moment, she had forgotten that Percy knew she had dreams and visions. "Oh. Uh — no. No, I haven't." She waited for Onesimus to chime in and call her a liar, but he never did. "But ... I have been thinking Hades isn't the answer. Call it gut instinct."

              The son of Poseidon didn't look happy, but he tried to smile. "Your gut instincts are magical or something?"

              "I like to think so," she admitted, shrugging with some embarrassment. "Maybe my gut instincts are also driven by visions."

              He frowned slightly. "Is that even possible?"

              "My hands glow green," she replied dryly. "And you can breathe underwater. Isn't that what you told me before? Why are you asking about possibilities now?"

              Even if Josephine felt a little lighter after having a not-so-serious conversation with Percy, there was still one massive problem. They were hurtling towards the Underworld at seventy miles per hour, betting (or more like hoping) that Hades had the Master Bolt. If they got there and found out they were wrong, there would be absolutely no time in the world to correct their mistake. The Summer Solstice deadline would pass and war would begin — a war so catastrophic it'd be considered the next World War. And that was if they even made it out of the Underworld. Josephine doubted they could just waltz in, accuse Hades of being the theft (potentially incorrectly), and waltz back out — no, he would kill them on the spot and probably send them to the Fields of Punishment.

              Josephine thought about all what her dreams and Onesimus have been telling her. It didn't make sense — not at all — but she still couldn't help but try and connect the dots. After the Winter Solstice last December, her nightmares became worse — rapidly. Then after Percy arrived at Camp, Onesimus started talking to her — a lot, at that. Then, she discovered her hands glow green and she can give people boils on the quest she was told to go on. And now Onesimus was telling her that someone sent him to talk to Josephine and that "in time," she'll be told things that will terrify her. All lovely stuff. And what any of that meant, Josephine had no idea. She really hated the unknown.

              "The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured Percy. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

              The daughter of Athena tried to boost their morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but Josephine's heart wasn't in it — none of their hearts were in it, not even Annabeth's. There were just too many unknown factors. It was like cramming for a test without knowing the subject. They were only able to plan so much with so little time and so little information given to them.

              The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded Josephine of Echidna's reptilian voice.

✿

At sunset, the taxi dropped them off at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies — only the fact that it smelled horrible. There were carnival rides lining the pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfers waiting for the perfect wave.

              The four questers walked down to the edge of the surf.

              "What now?" Josephine asked, breaking the silence among them.

              The Pacific was turning gold with the setting sun. It amazed Josephine that the gods could control things that changed the fabric of the world they lived in. Apollo, her father, controlled the sun, and without him and his light, the world would be in shambles. Poseidon, the God of the Sea, controlled the majority of the earth. There was more water than land on the planet. If either god ever wanted to strike back at humanity, there would be nothing humans could do — besides wait for their demise, that is.

              Josephine wondered if Percy would ever think of that. Two-thirds of the earth's surface was water, it was in the air all around them, and it was constantly at their disposal if they knew the right places to look. She had to wonder if Percy would ever realize how powerful he could be.

              Suddenly, he stepped into the surf. She frowned after him, her voice laced with confusion as she called; "Percy? What are you doing?"

              However, Percy kept on walking, further into the water until it was up to his waist, then to his chest.

              "Percy!" she called again. "Are you okay?"

              Annabeth was frowning. "You know how polluted that water is? There're all kinds of toxic —"

              That's when his head went underwater.

              "He does know he's not immune to any of that gunk in the water just because his dad is the God of the Sea?" Josephine looked out into the water, for any sign of Percy. "And so, when he comes down with something, he is all on his own!"

              Annabeth sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "We're just gonna have to wait for him to get back."

              "Hopefully with answers," Grover added, plopping down into the sand.

              Josephine sat beside the satyr with a huff, drawing her name out in the sand before wiping it away. She watched the sun as it slowly got closer to the sea, waves rippling with the pinks, oranges, and yellows of the sunset. That's when she started to miss Camp more than ever, watching as the last rays of the day disappeared. She missed it all — the routine, her siblings, and even the brightness of Cabin Seven during the day. She missed sitting around the campfire every night ('cause gods know she was too afraid to sing with the rest of her siblings for sing-along). She even missed trying not to get pulverized by the Ares Cabin during every Capture the Flag game. Josephine wanted to get back home. Where she was safe and happy — as happy as she could be with so many secrets and shortcomings.

              Finally, when the sunset was almost gone completely, Percy came out of the sea. He told the three waiting what had happened while he was under the sea, and then he showed them the pearls.

              Annabeth grimaced at the sight of them. "No gift comes without a price," she warned him.

              He frowned at her, tucking them back away in his pocket. "They were free," he protested.

              "No, they weren't." Josephine shook her head. "There's a phrase in Ancient Greek that translates pretty well into English: 'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' So, there will be a price — eventually."

              Grover sighed and stood up, wiping the sand from his fake shoes and pants. "Thank you for being such an optimist, Josephine ..."

              She frowned at him, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm being honest, not ... an optimist!"

✿

With some spare change from Ares's backpack, they took the bus into West Hollywood. Percy showed the driver the Underworld address slip he'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, however, the driver claimed he had never even heard of DOA Recording Studios.

              As they started to walk to some open seats, the driver pointed at Josephine and Percy. "You know ... you two remind me of something I saw on TV," he said, and all of them froze in panic. "You two child actors of something?"

              "We're ..." Percy started nervously, glancing at Josephine, stunt doubles. For a lot of child actors. Lots of business out there for that kind of stuff."

              "Oh!" The driver nodded, waving them along. "That explains it."

              They thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop. Quickly, Josephine smacked Percy on the back of the head. "What kind of lie was that?" she demanded.

              He cradled the back of his head, glaring daggers at her. "It was better than any lie you could've come up with!" he hissed.

              "It wasn't a good lie, though!"

              They wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book. Twice, they had to duck into alleys to avoid cop cars.

              For no apartment reason, Percy froze in front of an appliance store window, and when Josephine looked — in the window was a television, and it was playing an interview with some bald, older man. The man was talking to Barbara Walters. She was interviewing him in a nasty apartment, where he was clearly in the middle of a poker game, and sitting beside the man, was a young blonde lady. She continuously kept patting his hand in some comforting manner.

              One obvious crocodile tear glistened on the man's cheek as he painfully bemoaned. "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here — my grief counselor — I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife ... my Camaro ... I — I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

              Barbara Walters turned to the camera, a look of sympathy written across her face. "There you have it, America. A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

              Across the screen, covering Ms. Walters and the bald man — a grainy shot of Percy, Josephine, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares. Josephine glanced at Percy, remembering something he told her — he had a stepdad that Grover believes his mother only married because he smelled so disgustingly human to hide Percy's demigod scent. The bald, ugly man had to be Percy's stepdad.

              "Who are the other children in this photo?" prompted Barbara Walters, continuing to speak as the photo was still on screen. "One is certainly the accomplice spotted with Jackson back in the Gateway Arch explosion. But, she is still unnamed. But who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps," she paused for a short moment, to make it even more dramatic, "the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

              "C'mon," Grover told Percy. He hauled the boy away before he could punch a hole in the appliance store window. (Which would certainly earn them another news coverage.)

              It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. If Josephine had been two years younger, she would've been cowering in a corner; however, she had made her way across America and throughout sketchy cities. Still, L.A. was intimidating and she still wanted to cower in the corners. The city was spread out, chaotic, and hard to move around. It reminded her of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud, strange, and difficult to navigate. She didn't know how they were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by the next day, the Summer Solstice.

              They walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at them like they were trying to decide if they were worth the trouble of mugging. Some of them eyed Annabeth and Josephine with hungry looks.

              As they hurried past the entrance of an alley, a voice called from the darkness; "Hey, you."

              And, like a total idiot who had never lived in New York, Percy stopped.

              Before Josephine knew it, she and her friends were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled them. There were six of them — kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. The kind of kids that could cause trouble with poorer kids and play victim to get out of any trouble. The kind of kids Josephine hated. One of the boys focused on Josephine, readying his fist like he was going to punch her.

              Admittedly, she had never been in a fight with a mortal kid before. She always opted to just stay hidden in the back of crowds and classrooms when the rich kids went searching in school. She didn't want to fight this kid, but as he drew his fist back, she seemingly didn't have much choice — until Percy pulled out Riptide. (An even more idiotic decision on his part.)

              When the sword appeared out of nowhere, the gold light bathing the dark, L.A. street, the mortal kids backed off. However, the leader was either really stupid or stupidly brave as he changed his target from Josephine to Percy, taking out a switchblade.

              Then, Percy stupidly swung his sword.

              (There was a lot of stupidity going around it seems.)

              The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal as the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down, his brows knitting together. "What the fuck ...?"

              Percy looked at the others desperately. "Run!" he screamed to them.

              He and Annabeth pushed two kids out of the way, leading the way for Josephine and Grover to follow. They raced down the dark street, Riptide providing hardly any light as Percy's arms moved as he ran. None of them knew where they were going. Despite that, they turned a sharp corner.

              "There!" Annabeth shouted, pointedly wildly.

              Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATREBDE ALPACE.

              "Crusty's Waterbed Palace?" Grover translated as they ran closer to it.

              Admittedly, it didn't sound like a place Josephine would ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. The four burst through the doors, ran behind a waterbed, and ducked down, all breathing heavily. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside — but they didn't run inside the shop.

              "We lost them," Josephine sighed, her shoulder hanging with relief.

              A voice behind them boomed; "Lost who?"

              They all jumped. Standing behind them was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had grey leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold reptilian smile. He moved towards them slowly, but Josephine got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to. His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino; it belonged back in the seventies. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck — Josephine couldn't even count them.

              "I'm Crusty," he greeted, with a tartar-yellow smile.

              He really didn't have to tell them that. Josephine knew immediately by his appearance.

              "Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just — um — browsing."

              "You mean hiding from those no-good kids," Crusty grumbled, his eyes flickering up to the window. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a waterbed?"

              Josephine was about to say "No, thanks," when he put a huge paw on her shoulder and steered her deeper into the showroom. There was every kind of waterbed ever imaginable — different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

              "This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored jelly. "Million-hand massage," Crusty told them. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway."

              "Um ..." Josephine said, "No, thank you — uh — sir. We —"

              "Million-hand massage!" Grover cried. Soon, he dived into the mattress. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

              "Hm ..." Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost ..."

              Percy frowned, repeating; "Almost what?"

              Crusty looked at Annabeth and Josephine. "You two girls do me a favor and try these over here. Might fit."

              Annabeth's eyebrows knitted. "But what —?"

              The man patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, leading her and Josephine over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned bedspread and the LEGO Mania model with the board and base built from giant LEGO pieces and a patterned LEGO bespread. When the two girls didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed them.

              "Hey!" Josephine protested loudly.

              Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"

              Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Josephine and Annabeth, holding them to the mattresses. Grover tried to get up; however, there were ropes springing up from his bed too, lashing him down as well. "Not cool!" the satyr yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "Not cool at all!"

              The giant looked down at Josephine and Annabeth, then turned towards Percy and grinned. "Almost. Damn it."

              Percy took one step away — however, Crusty grabbed him by the back of the neck like a misbehaving kitten. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

              "Let my friends go." Percy tried to kick him.

              "Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

              "What do you mean?"

              "All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

              Josephine's eyes widened. She twisted her right hand around to grab the rope, praying for any sign of the green glow to rot the rope away. Nearby, Annabeth and Grover kept struggling.

              "Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!"

              A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the waterbeds, wrapping around Grover, Annabeth, and Josephine's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling them from both ends. Josephine could barely focus on summoning that burning feeling beneath her skin, trying to not cry out from the pain. It was a type of pain she had never felt before — the pain of being stretched alive, her joints ready to pop out of their sockets and detach from her body.

              "Don't worry," Crusty told Percy. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now, why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

              "Percy!" Grover yelled.

              With each passing second, the pain worsened. Josephine would have given almost anything to stop it. She tried focusing on anything else around her. She tried telling herself that Percy could get them out of this alive. However, her hopes weren't high as she saw Percy just standing there. And her hopes were completely dashed when he blurted; "Your real name's not Crusty, is it?"

              "Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted, shrugging casually. If Josephine's body wasn't about to be snapped in half, she would have an Of course moment. She remembered the story — the giant who tried to kill Theseus with over-hospitality on his way to Athens.

              "The Stretcher," Percy said.

              "Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce 'Procrustes?' Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

              "You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

              The monster's eyes lit up. "You think so?"

              "Oh, absolutely." Percy nodded along. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

              Josephine wanted to scream. Percy had to stop trying to make friends with Procrustes to get them free, it would take too long to work.

              The giant grinned hugely, but his fingers didn't loosen on Percy's neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

              "Not too many."

              "That's right!"

              "Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"

              "Don't mind her," Percy told Procrustes, waving his hand lazily. "She's impossible."

              The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

              "What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

              "Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

              He let go of Percy's neck, but before the boy could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass ax. He held it out to Percy, saying; "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

              "Ah," Percy said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."

              "I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

              Josephine gripped the ropes around her wrist tightly, feeling the burn from the green glow. Her stomach churned with pain and adrenaline; her bones and joints screamed out in agony. The ropes started to fray around her palms and fingers. The ropes were really stretching them now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds like a strangled goose.

              "So, Crusty ..." Percy started, trying to keep his voice light. Josephine saw him glance at the sales tag on the Valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

              The ropes snapped in Josephine's hands. She shook off the melted pieces, grabbing her daggers from their resting place. She sliced through the ropes around her armpits, sawing through the ropes around her ankles. She ignored the horrible aching her body screamed with the best she could; Josephine didn't have time to cry in pain.

              "Absolutely. Try it out."

              "Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

              "Guaranteed."

              "No way."

              "Way."

              "Show me."

              Procrustes sat down eagerly on the bed, and he patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"

              Percy snapped his fingers. "Ergo."

              Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress. "Hey!" he yelled.

              Josephine stumbled off the bed, bracing herself against Annabeth's. When the bed moved, the daughter of wisdom looked over, her eyes so glassy that it scared Josephine. She sawed away at the ropes around Annabeth's wrist and arms, letting Annabeth cut the ones around her ankles so she could go help Grover. Josephine snuck over to the satyr.

              "Center him just right," Josephine heard Percy say.

              The ropes readjusted themselves at the boy's command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.

              "No!" the giant said. "Wait! This is just a demo."

              Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..." he murmured.

              "You drive a hard bargain," the monster told Percy. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models!"

              "I think I'll start with the top." The son of the sea raised his sword.

              "No money down! No interest for six months!"

              Percy swung the sword — Crusty stopped making offers.

              Grover sat up, holding onto Josephine's arm after she finished cutting away at the ropes around his wrists and arms. The girl was glaring at Percy as he walked back over. "It took you long enough," she snapped.

              Percy raised his eyebrows at Josephine. "Sorry," he amended. "At least you look taller."

              Her eyes hardened. "Hilarious. I had to use those freaky green powers to get out, you know."

              Percy rolled his eyes, looking at the bulletin board behind Procrustes' sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters — "The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a brought orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

              "Come on," Percy said, tugging the map off the board.

              "Give us a minute," Grover complained, rubbing his back. "We were almost stretched to death!"

              "Then you're ready for the Underworld," said Percy, turning back around to face them. He waved the paper slightly to grab their attention. "It's only a block from here."

✿ JUL. 6TH, 2023 / this chapter feels boring

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??

EDITED / nov. 16th, 2024

i used to really hate this chapter but now that i've reread it ... it's not that bad?? i think at that time, i was in this really weird mental state of "long chapter = good" which isn't true at all and since this one was "shorter" - and it isn't even that short, it's about 5.4k words

(i still will continue to write long chapters tho i hate coming up with titles, and longer chapters means fewer titles)