Looks like you need-- a hero!

[riptide_surfer]

Who: Perseus Jackson, and... welcome to town?
What: Oh man, it's getting real.
Where: ...not the place you're expecting.
When: right... now.
Why: Because... dimensional rifts and ancient Greek monsters are fun, but sewers in Aternaville are a whole 'nother ball of wax!
Status: Closed? Open? Bad stuff is going down!

Comments

[never_blink]

Clarice had a tendency to run into interesting people when leaving work, but this was new.

She froze when the manhole cover shot up like a bullet from a gun. Before she could recover, the figure had pulled itself out and, right before her horrified eyes, collapsed.

"Oh, no!" she gasped, the bakery bag in her hands hitting the sidewalk as she began to run. "Oh no, no, no!" Dropping to her knees beside him, she tried to pull the shield off with shaking hands. "Sir? Excuse me? Sir, are you - are you all right? C-can you hear me? Please-"

[riptide_surfer]

"Wait--" Percy croaked, reaching over and touching a button on his watch. Immediately the shield retracted into the device, dents and all. Then, he rolled over and looked up at her. "Whoa!" he said, squinting a little. "Purple. Don't-- remember that-- in the history books."

This was bad. He was still losing blood at a pretty steady rate, and away from the water, it wasn't going to get any better. What he needed was the thermos in his bag. He reached for it, only to realize it wasn't beside him. He must have dropped it in his mad scramble for the surface.

"My backpack," he said, looking at her. "Tell me-- tell me you see it, somewhere over there." He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the manhole cover.

[never_blink]

Clarice jumped again when the shield retracted, pulling her hands back quickly. His reaction to her was much less startling. She tried to get her small hands over the horrible claw marks on his chest and shoulder, shuddering when blood pulsed up around her fingers but not pulling away.

"No," she said breathlessly after barely a glance, "no, I don't, I don't see it. Let me take you to the hospital, then I'll come back here, I'll find it for you."

[riptide_surfer]

"--No time," he coughed. "There's no time. In my bag, there's-- a healing-- better than the hospital, for me." He knew he wasn't making a great deal of sense, but he had to get her to understand. "But, the sewer-- there's something down there. Something bad." He didn't want to have to send this poor, innocent purple girl down in to the sewer after his bag, but he couldn't see any other avenue open to him.

Annabeth would have a plan. Ah, Annabeth... He hoped he wasn't going to die here. He needed to get back, to see her again.

[icthyo_taco]

Sunglasses, long coat, and hat on Abe steadied himself in a walk in town during daylight hours. Surprisingly, the streets were rather sparse. But as he rounded South Main Street onto Noble Rd. he came upon a garish sight. The boy couldn't have been any older than 17 and looked to be injured.

Nervous of his own appearance or not, a discomfort he was quickly learning to put behind him with his introductions to various town members, Abe ran to the middle of the street and leaned down to the boy's crumpled form.

"Let me see your injury. I have medical knowledge and might be able to help. I also need to know if it is safe to move you and seeing where your injury is will help me in that decision. Can you tell me your name?" Abe said calmly but quickly to the young man.

[riptide_surfer]

Someone was talking. Percy forced his eyes open, and squinted. Three or four versions of the person over him were hovering above him. "Can't move yet," he said. "Purple girl-- getting my bag." He waited while the kaleidoscope of faces coalesced into something human-looking. Almost.

"Oh," he said. "Did Dad send you?"

[icthyo_taco]

As the boy talked Abe put his gloved hand on his face studying his forehead and noticing the blunt force trauma caused by Percy having face planted in the sewers when he was knocked over by whatever monster was behind him

[riptide_surfer]

Percy didn't think it was likely that a follower of Poseidon wouldn't give the deity his due. But what were the odds that of all the people to walk up and offer him assistance, it would be a man who looked like a fish?

He forced himself to focus, to answer the man's questions. "My bag- it has ambrosia in it. Need it-- for healing. Much faster. Purple girl's getting it. It's okay." Well, now. Two people offering to help him out, upon seeing he was injured? It was almost too much to hope for. Too many times, they'd never gotten help from anyone. Which was why it was good they never quested alone.

"I-- was, yeah," he said. "Less people, less stuff to damage..." he paused. "Wait, I'm still in the street?" He attempted to sit up, look around himself, but the attempt didn't go well. "New York streets are never this quiet. Not even at four in the morning."