Theo, son of.... well he hasn't got a clue.
Theo may have never have know who was until one day a scrawny 12 year old by the name of Percy Jackson showed up on the borders of the only home half dead after killing the famous Minotaur.
That day cha...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Chapter 55
This Chapters Theme is Fire, and Lots Of It
Third POV
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right behind it. The rest of the group followed, not quite as anxious. The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic's garage with several hydraulic lifts.
Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames.
Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place. The staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go.
Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a '98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out—the lower half of a huge man in grubby grey pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson's. One leg was in a metal brace. The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging stopped.
"Well, well," a deep voice boomed from under the Corolla. "What have we here?"
The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up. Theo had seen Hephaestus on Olympus both in this lifetime and his old one, and it was obvious that Hephaestus didn't care how he looked on Olympus.
He wore a jumpsuit smeared with oil and grime. Hephaestus was embroidered over the chest pocket. His leg creaked and clicked in its metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder was lower than his right, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing up straight.
His head was misshapen and bulging. He wore a permanent scowl. His black beard smoked and hissed. Every once in a while, a small wildfire would erupt in his whiskers and then die out. His hands were the size of a catcher's mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.
