For we once so loved the world by HowlingDarkness95

Chapter 6

He woke up in a dark room, his arms chained somewhere above him. His head felt groggy, and he tried to shake it to clear it up, only to regret that action as the room spun around him and his stomach threatened to rebel. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get his stomach under control. When he opened his eyes again, he was relieved to find that his nausea had subsided. He glanced around the room-cell- that he was in, there was barely any light, and from what he could make out, there was nobody else in the cell with him. He shook the chains binding him experimentally, grimacing when he found them strong and secure. He hissed, extending his senses to search for any presence of water around him. Whoever his captor was, he or she was good. There was barely any water save the dampness on the walls that would not be of any use in the event of an escape. He tried to catalogue his injuries, his head was a little fuzzy, probably a concussion, he thought, his arms were sore from being strung up, his side burned a little, and he did not know if it was because the wound was shallow or because his concussion diminished the pain. He was startled out of his cataloguing when the door creaked open. Dirty amber splashed against the wall in front of him, and he realized that the door was behind him. The room's newest addition walked in, footsteps echoing in the hollow cell. The tension in the room rose several notches and he couldn't take the suspense any longer, "Who are you?" he spat, "and what do you want from me?"

When no reply came, he was beginning to think that his captor had decided to toy with his mind, making him believe that there was someone else with him...

He froze when he felt a finger caress the back of his neck, the touch gentle and intimate, a parody of the action of a lover. His breath hitched, nonono, this is not happening, he thought desperately. The finger trailed downwards, stroking his back as another hand came to close around his throat, the cold spreading throughout his body, causing him to shiver. The presence of a warm breath against his ear caused him to flinch, but he was held in place by the hands that held him against the other, their bodies pressed together. "What I want Perseus Jackson," A voice whispered in his ear, causing his eyes to open in shock and horror, "is revenge." The hands gripped him tightly and yanked his head to the side. Malicious golden eyes gleamed in the dark, and he felt his heart stop in fear. "No..." he whispered, "This isn't happening..." The man chuckled, the sinister sound reverberating in his ear, "Oh I promise you son of Poseidon," the man hissed, baring his teeth in a mock smile, "This is very real. Your precious gods have left you for dead. They abandoned you to die! To rot in this hell hole." The man took delight in the harsh breathing of the prisoner, placing a hand on his chest in a mocking gesture of comfort. He grinned even more as the boy flinched at the contact. He pressed his hands against the boy's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and pressed his mouth to his ear, "Welcome to hell, hero."

Percy screamed.

He jerked out of bed, heart thumping furiously as the aftermath of his dream echoed in his mind. He could still hear the taunting laugh of the Titan Lord as he toyed with him. Percy gritted his teeth, banishing the memory from his mind, he did not need Tartarus to haunt him now, not when he had work to do. He glanced up at the ceiling, "JARVIS? What time is it?"

It is currently half past seven in the morning agent Jackson, the AI replied, there is breakfast in the kitchen if you are amenable to the idea.

Percy nodded and voiced his thanks, padding over to the bathroom to wash up. He stared at his own reflection n the mirror, grimacing at how unkempt his hair was. He spotted dark circles under his eyes and scowled at his haggard look. He hadn't been sleeping well the past few nights, and he couldn't pin point the reason why. He hadn't taken any missions that would have triggered a memory in him, nor had anything happened in the tower to illicit such a memory. He undressed, stepping into the shower, letting the warm water calm his nerves. He had been living in the tower for several weeks now, and true to his word, Thor had not called him by his title at all, choosing to use his full name instead.