Those blue eyes. A.C x oc fem

1.10- We enter the Underworld.

☆☆☆☆☆☆Victoire Avery☆☆☆☆☆☆

We walked untill 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.

Percy turned to us. "Okay. You remember the plan."

At first, Percy was ready to jump in the Underworld without a plan but I told him a list of things about plans that every demigod should know:

Make a plan.
Execute the plan.
Expect the plan to go of the rails.
Throw away the plan.
Make another plan.

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy and I said. We glanced at each other.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

"What a sunshine . . ." I mumbled, only the blonde girl heard me.

Annabeth gave me a look, then turned to Percy, who was staring at the four pearls. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"All of that before the summer solstice." I told him, even though I had no idea how we were gonna get to New York before the solstice.

Percy smiled and slipped the pearls back in 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 gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were
people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator.

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-colored 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.

Percy said, "Your name is Chiron?"

I looked at the silver name tag and frowned to me it read: Choarn.

Why would Percy think his name is Chiron if- Oh, wait, Percy and I are dyslexic.

The Ch- something guy leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python's, right before it eats you.