Percy Jackson One Shots And Crossovers

Thanks For The Memories

At least their deaths were immediate, not like some of the ways demigods used to go out.

At some point, Nico had summoned them, giving them a chance at a last goodbye to their children. Jason and Luke swore they would become great heroes and make them proud, their small, teary but determined faces resolute in their decision, and Nico (who had been crying, no matter what he stammered about monster goo in his eyes) had promised to protect the twins and train them to be just like their parents.

Which lead to the current situation.

The demigods, both clad in Camp Half-blood shirts, their necklaces and even matching hats that had been part of an event trying to sell more raspberries, stood in a - lobby? Foyer? - with hundreds of other souls, some demigods, most mortals (and was that Abraham Lincoln?!)

Percy glanced around, noticing the round layout of the room, the artful pillars rising to the marble ceiling high above their heads. The walls were painted with images of old Greece, graceful heroes and vile monsters, vivid colours and strong images created and conveyed by a few brushstrokes.

He usually wasn't much of an art fan (don't tell Rachel), but even Percy had to gape at the beautiful creation. 

Annabeth was even worse (was she breathing?!) and Percy grasped her jaw to gently close her mouth, chuckling slightly.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, craning her neck to admire the picture of the Olympian gods on the ceiling.

Percy personally thought that it was a bit overkill, his dad and the whole merry group were already watching his every step in the living world, did they have to be able to spit on his head here, too?

When he said so to Annabeth, she simply whacked him across the head, almost knocking the hat down in the process.

He grumbled an apology, rubbing the sore spot. "Where exactly are we anyway?" he wondered, glancing around the people. No one was even looking their way, they all just... stood there.

"The dead who have not yet been judged have to wait here," Annabeth explained, sounding way too excited, considering their current situation. "When your name is called, the judges will decide whether you go to Tartarus, the Asphodel Meadows or Elysium." She gave him a pointed look. "Which you should already know."

Percy grinned sheepishly, shrugging in a what-can-you-do way. "How long do we have to wait here? I really gotta pee," he asked. Percy hoped not too long, if that guy with the weird beard really was Abraham Lincoln, he would have had to be here for, like, 200 years or something.

There was a creaking sound overhead, and then his and Annabeth's name were called over hidden loudspeakers (who knew the underworld was up-to-date with electronic devices).

Percy couldn't believe his eyes when Stan freaking Lee came up to them, asked them to follow him, please, the judges were now ready to see them.

"That's Stan Lee," he whispered excitedly, nervous energy starting to make his arms do weird gestures. "Stan Lee," he repeated, and Annabeth laughed disbelievingly, nodding her head. "I can't believe it," she muttered and they both stared at each other, hysterical laughter bubbling up inside of Percy.

Then they passed huge double doors, painted with pictures of the underworld, some beautiful, other horrific (he recognized some parts of Tartarus, shuddering and turning his head away)

The hall they entered was smaller then the one they had just come from, but still huge. Marble plates decorated the walls, the right side black, the left white. The ground was once again sporting images of greek wars, he thought he might have stepped on Heracles head accidently.