ੈ｡ﾟ ･ׂׂ ✩ RED ⌇˚ɞ act ii . . . if clarity's in death . .
· 。ﾟ *. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 TWENTY-ONE, ───── ❛ temptations of the desert ❜
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THE NIGHT COULD not have gotten any worse, and somehow, it did. After Zoe explained things to Laurie about the scarce history of spectral wielding, the conversion had shifted to Bianca and how she'd destroyed her own skeleton.
Of course, she had no idea, but what she brought up next had piqued everyone's interest and then left them at a loss for words. To make a short story even shorter, Bianca and her brother were born decades— maybe even centuries— ago, their lives preserved by the magic of the Lotus Casino in Las Vegas.
Mid-conversation as they bickered back and forth about how this was possible and what it could mean, they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of blinding white lights.
Startled, everyone's eyes adjusted to the brightness, making out the silhouette of a vehicle, indicating that they were being illuminated by headlights.
Seeing that the vehicle was still in motion, they all scrambled to grab their sleeping bags and move out of the way before the luxurious white limousine rolled to a stop in front of them, right where they'd just previously been sitting.
The door shot open before the teens could even gain their bearings, followed by the stomp of clunky boots against the hard, dirt ground.
Before he could even breathe— much less move— Percy found himself with a sword tip pointed at his throat.
Immediately, Bianca and Zoe drew their bows; Laurie's sword morphed from hairclip to silver sword.
Percy slowly backed away as the owner of the sword pushed it against his chin, pushing him back by force as they stood to their full height and exited the limo.
"Not so fast now, are you, punk?" The voice drawled, accompanied by a cruel grin.
The man was big with close cropped hair, wearing all black besides the white tank top beneath his leather jacket. Wraparound shades covered his fiery eyes.
"Ares," Percy grumbled lowly, a sneer on his lip.
Over Percy's shoulder, the god of war glanced at his friends. "At ease, people." He said.
With the snap of his fingers, all three of their weapons clattered to the ground.
"This is a friendly meeting," He said, as if he weren't actively digging the tip of his sword deeper into a fourteen-year-old's esophagus. "Of course I'd like to take your head as a trophy, but someone wants to see you. And I never behead my enemies in front of a lady."
