Perseus and the Quest for 12

And the winner is…

Option A: Go after Clarisse alone!

Final Scores:

Option A: Go Alone: 50

Option B: Use Shermann's group: 18

Option C: Go to Dionysus: 8

Option D: Gather everyone: 3

Chapter 10

A Parent's Crimes

Perseus caught up with Clarisse just over the border outside of camp. She'd been moving quickly, but it was easy to see what was slowing her down now. Slowly, with hard-fought steps in the direction Stheno claimed the monsters' base was, Clarisse was shoving a massive crate.

It was at least five feet tall and a perfect cube. Clarisse's whole body worked to shove it forward, leaving matted grass in its wake. Perseus joined her pushing the crate from just to her right.

Clarisse looked over and glared at first. "You."

"Me," Perseus said. "You got talking about glory and winning respect from the whole camp, and as I stood there, I realized that hey, I like all of those things too! So I've come to leech off of you."

"Who says I'll let you?"

"Well, nobody," Perseus admitted. "But the only thing I can think of that's more foolish than attacking a nest of monsters alone, is attacking a nest of monsters alone after turning down help."

Clarisse considered this. They had both continued to push as they talked, gaining consistent ground.

Finally, the daughter of Ares snorted, not telling him to go away. Perseus smiled.

They pushed a while longer, shoving the crate up another small hill and then down the other side, into a field of some kind of ground-growing vegetable with little green tufts sticking up from the plowed rows.

"So what's in the box?" Perseus finally asked, when he was confident that speaking wouldn't make Clarisse think twice about working together.

"Bombs," Clarisse said casually.

Perseus stopped, his hands falling off of the crate. Clarisse kept pushing a few steps, then looked back at him. "What, did that scare you?"

"Where on earth did you get bombs?" Perseus said. "Unless…"

The monsters had been experimenting with explosives as a way of busting through the camp's borders. Just the day before they'd gone for old fashioned dynamite, as if the magical barrier was a hundred-year-old mine in need of excavation.

"I collected them," Clarisse said, confirming his thoughts. "Every time they left bombs after a failed attack, I made sure we got ahold of them. I always knew they'd be useful. And now, we've got a convenient target to blow the hell out of."

She pointed ahead of them where, still distant but definitely visible, a barn stood on the horizon.

"You were all scared of being outnumbered," Clarisse said. "What's there to think about? Just more bodies to go boom."

"You're crazy," Perseus said for what felt like the hundredth time over the last few days. But for the first time, it felt a bit endearing. 

It was good to know they weren't out here completely without a plan.

"When we get there," Clarisse said, "This is how we're going to do it…"

O-O-O

Perseus flicked his thin sword left and right in rapid, almost impossible to follow slashes. He nodded to himself. It was just as nice as it had been the day before.

"And to think," he said aloud. "She pretended she didn't want me to come along."

When Clarisse unpacked the explosives, she revealed two weapons shoved into the top of the crate. One was the spear she always used. The other was the narrow sword Perseus had picked for their duel yesterday.

"Would it kill her to be a bit honest?" he mused.

Then, at the top of his lungs, he promptly bellowed, "Medusa! Prime statue material is right here, if you have what it takes to catch me!"

He was only a dozen steps away from the barn. Its red paint was peeling, and white lines around the door had faded to a forgettable gray. Behind Perseus, tilled fields stretched away, running until the hill that bordered Camp Half-Blood. He stood alone. Clarisse was nowhere in sight.

"What's wrong?" Perseus shouted. "Afraid of one demigod?"

There was a great creak. Slowly, the door began to roll open. Perseus tensed. 

The first monster burst out without warning. The door was only open wide enough for one Blemmyae to get through squeezing sideways. It was still sliding further open, though, and almost instantly the first one was joined by more and more, until a wedge formation was charging Perseus.

Like a gallant hero, Perseus turned and ran.

There were dozens after him the last time he looked back, and after that he didn't bother to look again. It was too many to fight, so it really didn't matter how many there were. Just don't get caught. Otherwise, you're dead.

His body pumped. He never had any speed abilities like Hermes, and he couldn't remember how long it had been since he worked his body like this. Probably not since the Olympics. The original Olympics. After that, running had gone out of popularity with the ladies. That was the end of his interest.

The Blemmyaes began to howl. Their noises were deep and guttural, projected out of their bellies. Perseus had known some that were capable of holding a rational conversation, but these weren't interested in talking.

It was the definition of a stampede. When one fell they were promptly trampled over. Blemmyae dragged back and pushed off of their brethrens' bodies, just to speed themselves up. Sharp teeth stuck out of their stomach. The eyes embedded on their chests were bloodshot.

Perseus was faster than the mob, but his chest was starting to burn. Apparently, that two thousand year gap since his last race was a real disadvantage. Who could have guessed? Just as all seemed lost, he dug deep and dragged out a final burst of speed.

He sped ahead of them again, adding distance. He threw his sword away to keep it from slowing him down. Without regard for the landing, he dove sideways into a divot in the field. It was freshly dug, leaving his shirt soiled with grime as he crashed down chest-first.

The field exploded. 

Perseus felt heat all along the back of his neck and exposed arms. He pressed his hands to his ears, and the boom that followed still hurt them. When he staggered up there were no Blemmyae in sight. Just a charred crater and dust floating on the morning breeze.

"Told you it'd work."

Perseus looked over his shoulder to find Clarisse approaching from the direction of camp. She had a detonator in one hand and her spear in the other. Unlike Perseus, who was dressed in plain clothes, she'd equipped a light breastplate and plumed helmet. Those, at least, she only brought enough of for herself.

"You look better that way," she told him, eyeing Perseus's red cheeks, sweaty body, the mud across his chest. "More gritty. Less pretentious."

"I can tell you that your tastes are in the minority, then," Perseus said. "Congratulations. You truly are 'not like the other girls.'"

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

Perseus sighed. "Yeah, I can imagine you wouldn't."

He collected his sword, smacking the flat of the blade against his shoe to get off monster dust and bits of soil. Clarisse left the detonator behind with the rest of the explosives they brought, still in their crate near the border of camp. Together, they approached the barn.

Both of them were cautious. There were no more ambushes to lead monsters into. If another swarm of Blemmyae came rushing out, they'd be left to survive it the old fashioned way.

"I didn't see any gorgons chasing me," Perseus muttered.

"Because they weren't," Clarisse said. "I watched them the whole way. Nothing but Blemmyae."

They shared a look, then crept up to the barn's entrance. The real threats were still inside. They slipped into the dim interior.

The only light was what filtered in from behind them. The ground was soft, coated in bits of hay pressed down by many heavy feet. The only windows were along the roof and covered with slits. A voice was speaking.

"Wake up!" it said. "Wake up, sister! The heroes are coming!"

It was coming from the far side of the barn. The building's layout was simple— an open area in the middle, like a wide aisle, which Perseus and Clarisse were walking down, with stalls on either side. At the back of the barn were two stalls much larger than normal. Ahead of them, right in the center of the room, was the outline of what looked like a bed.

"How can you be sleeping now?" said the voice. "Wake up! Wake up, sister! The heroes are coming!"

Perseus slinked ahead of Clarisse, her at his back. Something large was growling and snorting periodically within the large stalls, but they couldn't glimpse what it was. They went for the bed; the closer they got, the more certain they became that a bed was really what it was.

A figure stood in a cloak identical to the one Stheno wore when they captured her, speaking to another shape sprawled out on the bed. 

The cloaked figure never turned around.

Perseus and Clarisse struck together. His sword slashed in an arc too quick to see, just like the ones he'd done warming up outside. At the same time, Clarisse's spear shot out, piercing the side of the figure on the bed.

The cloaked figure was reduced to halves. Perseus's eyes widened as he ended up with a faceful of straw. He stared at what he'd cut— layers of straw stuffed inside an empty cloak. Where the head should've been was a beat-up tape recorder.

"How can you be sleeping now?" it said. "Wake up! Wake up, sister! The heroes are coming!"

"Trap—!" Perseus started to say.

The doors shut behind them. A woman's laugh pinged off the walls of the as the demigods were left with only the light of their celestial bronze weapons.

Clarisse, at least, had hit a real target. The figure on the bed looked identical to Stheno, except that she was bound up and heavily gagged. Her eyes were filled with fear and rage, right up until she dissolved from the spear jammed in her side.

"Poor Euryale," said the woman's voice. It seemed to come from everywhere, so much so that Perseus couldn't even guess at the true location. "She'll understand, I'm sure. I've learned better than to nap while heroes are afoot. A shame that someone had to take the fall for it."

"Medusa, I assume?" Perseus asked.

At the sound of his voice the things in the stalls behind them snorted loudly. The final gorgon laughed a deceptively beautiful laugh.

"You'll get no gold star from me for guessing it," she told him. 

Perseus strained, still trying to locate her, but it was no good. 

"You ought to give up," the voice informed them. "It's no good. In a place like this, you won't see anything until—"

"—it's too late."

A strong, clawed hand grabbed Perseus, yanking him by the wrist. He shut his eyes reflexively, but it hardly mattered. Medusa wasn't even trying to turn him to stone… yet. She was playing with her food.

Perseus broke free from her grip. That, or she let him go. He turned in circles, not even able to spot Clarisse now.

"Get out here and fight us with some courage," the daughter of Ares demanded, confirming she was still in the room.

"Did the original Perseus offer me that decency? No. He crept up while I was sleeping, and cut my head off my shoulders. You two tried the same. Why fight with pride when heroes do not."

"Coward!"

"You will be much less obnoxious once you've turned to stone," Medusa said.

"Why drag this out?" Perseus asked suddenly, trying to draw her attention.

There was no point letting Clarisse make this worse. He turned where he thought the monster most likely was. 

Her answer came from behind him.

"Do you know why I care at all about this camp?" she asked.

"Because monsters can't get enough of that primo demigod flavor?"

"I don't need to eat your kind to get by," Medusa said. "I'm not here out of hunger. What I want, what I would willingly sacrifice my sisters for, is revenge. I want every one of Athena's children in that cabin of hers to become cold stone, so that she can look upon them for the rest of time and mourn."

"Well, neither of us are her kids," Perseus said. "In fact, I don't get along with the counselor at all. If you want I can go and get her real quick—"

Claws grabbed his forearm, cutting the skin this time as they dragged him forward, making him stumble before they disappeared. He winced.

"You have Poseidon's smell to you," Medusa declared. "He was as cute as you are. Couldn't be counted on in a pinch, though. I learned that the hard way. The daughter of Ares will go!"

"Like Hades I'll do what you say you stinking bag of—"

"But you will," Medusa interrupted Clarisse. "After all, you must warn them about the threat that's coming."

"There won't be a threat after spike your scaly old ass on the end of my spear."

"Not me," Medusa said. "Them."

She whistled. There was a great whirring sound, as if two forklifts were waking up from a deep sleep. The two big stalls exploded.

The wood caved in an instant. Two giant mechanical bulls made of solid bronze burst out. They charged forward unhesitatingly, making Perseus dive aside. They broke out of the barn with just as much ease as when they reduced their stalls to splinters. 

"The bulls of Colchis," Medusa said. "Victims of Jason. Creations of Hephaestus. Gifts, to me, to make my task easier."

Perseus could see her now, in the light from the holes left by the bulls. He wasn't dumb enough to look long. From his glimpse he saw she wore a simple black dress; elegant, but the kind you might see at a funeral. She had pitch black shades on. That didn't mean he and Clarisse were safe. One quick movement and she could have those off, revealing her eyes and making them the last thing the demigods ever saw.

"A gift from who?" Clarisse demanded.

"Don't worry about that," Medusa said. "Worry about what will happen when they reach your camp. You have been an obstacle, daughter of Ares. You thwarted many of our attacks. When I finally make you into one of my statues, I will keep you on display, so feel proud. But your eagerness to defeat us will be your undoing. You wanted to wipe us out… and instead, you have left the defenders without their leader. The bulls will wreak havoc on your unaware camp. The children of Athena will flock to help, as desperate to show off their skills as their vindictive mother. And then I will arrive, and by then, it will be too late for them. For all of them."

Clarisse growled. She looked torn. The bulls were still charging, getting further away.

"Go," Perseus said.

She growled again, this time with extra fire.

"You're not allowed to die," she snapped.

With that, she charged after the automatons, moving a lot like a bull herself. Somehow, she was even faster than them, beginning to close the gap.

Medusa moved to stop her, lowering her glasses and stepping forward, but Perseus jumped in between them, swinging his sword with his eyes shut. Medusa dodged easily of course, but it bought Clarisse time to escape the barn.

They stood there then, Perseus and the monster, alone in the wreckage of the barn. Perseus kept his eyes shut; it was too dangerous to do any different. Bits of wood fell from the barn's rafters, dislodged by the destruction of one wall. Perseus tried to control his breathing. His heart was beating in a way it never had before. It reminded him a bit of sex, but the effect was different. It made his fingers tremble. It made his chest tight.

"Oh dear. Are you scared?"

"Me? Just excited." Despite everything, Perseus kept his voice level. "I was just thinking about who my parents named me after. He killed you too. If I slay you here, don't you think that would make me the better Perseus? I feel like it would at least tie the score."

"So much bravado. But it's wasted."

Talons slashed his side. They cut through his shirt easily, as well as the skin beneath. It was deep enough to hurt. Perseus swiped his sword, hit nothing but air, and staggered back. 

"I hear your heart. You cannot hide what you feel— merely mask it."

This time, his shoulder was hit. He stumbled sideways again, head dipping forward. Again he lashed out. Again, he hit nothing.

Every part of him demanded that he open his eyes. It was completely unnatural to keep them closed. Only by keeping a vice grip on his discipline did Perseus hold himself back, and even speak.

"I don't know," he said, still blind. "Maybe my heart's going crazy at that beautiful face of yours."

"You mock me."

This time he was cut across the stomach, then the side of his chest a moment later.

For some reason, Medusa's voice sounded soft. As if the monster pitied him.

"I have heard tell of you," she said. "A god, stripped of his immortality. At the hands of that vile Athena no less. Why do you fight? Work with me. We can punish her spawn together. We can make her truly hurt!"

Perseus took a deep, steadying breath. His shirt was in ribbons. He could feel warm blood washing down his chest. The tightness he was feeling inside had grown unbearably strong. His heart seemed moments away from erupting out of his skin.

One word. That was all it would take to make the pain stop. And wasn't that enough to make part of him scream that he should take her offer? Because it was finally, only now, really sinking in.

He could die here.

So why wasn't he agreeing?

"There's something that I've been trying to remind myself of since I arrived here," Perseus said.

"What's that?" Medusa asked impatiently.

"We are not our parents. The kids at this camp… they aren't the gods. They love like them. They fight a little like them. But at the same time, they're not them, and they can't be held responsible for their parents' mistakes. Only their own."

Medusa's hair hissed— a hundred snakes all spewing their displeasure in perfect unison.

"Why should I care?" she complained. "Was Poseidon punished after being caught with me? No, because Athena could not harm him. I took the fall! So, now, it is her children's turn! Through them, I can hurt their mother! Why should I care about what others did not?"

"Because the gods were wrong," Perseus said, almost expecting the sky to boom with thunder as he spoke the blasphemy he was thinking. "You can be wrong yourself, the same way they were, but it doesn't make you any better than them. It will just make you the same as the goddess you hate so much."

His words pushed Medusa over the edge. Her hair erupted like a nest of asps. She wailed. Perseus heard the sound of her glasses hitting the ground, hurled aside.

"Spare me your preaching!" she said. "If you are not with me… Then you are not necessary!"

Perseus took a deep breath to steady his heart. It didn't work.

Medusa's hooked claws caught him on the shoulder and the ribs at the same time, cutting more deeply than any of the attacks yet. Perseus could feel her breath on his face, the hissing from her hair deafening so close up. Every part of him wanted to fold now, to open his eyes and look into hers, just to make the pain stop.

He roared. Before Medusa could pull away, while her fingers were stuck digging into his skin, he pitched his weight forward. 

He was bigger than Medusa. The move sent both of them tumbling to the floor, him on top. He was too close to bring his sword around in time. Her claws would reach his throat before his blade could touch hers. So, instead, he slammed the hilt down.

He beat its blunt edge into her forehead over and over, as hard as his body would let him. Snakes bit his knuckles, pumping out stinging venom, but he wouldn't stop. There was no art to this. He probably looked terrible doing it, like a drunken brawler instead of a stylish fighter.

The entire time Clarisse's voice yelled in his ears: "Fighting is about carnage! It's about blood! Don't waste time looking pretty!"

Perseus thought he understood her now, at least a little bit. Fighting was terrifying when you could die. When it was possible to lose, and you couldn't just flash away in a pinch. You had to work with the knowledge that one mistake might be the end of you.

So when the opening came, you couldn't stop for anything.

Medusa's sharp fingers wrapped around his wrist, trying to stop him, but her strength was diminishing. He continued bringing his hand down, bludgeoning her head. Even her snakes had stopped biting him. Blow by blow she lost the ability to fight back, until she finally broke apart into dust beneath him. 

Careful to look at the floor only, Perseus cracked his eyes open. The head had been left behind. He could see a few snakes in his peripherals, all with their eyes closed. Staggering up from his knees, Perseus booted the head, sending it rolling into the corner, where it stopped with its eyes facing the wall.

He was still bleeding. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, but his shoulder and side were definitely the worst. The places Medusa struck him last, when she had been out to kill him.

Despite everything, Perseus moved toward camp. He began to jog.

His arms were tired, but he seemed unable to drop his sword. He felt like his strength had to be fading, yet he couldn't make himself stop. His body refused to go offline. Fear of death was driving him forward despite the main threat having already passed.

As he ran, his head cleared slightly. He felt rational thought return. It caught up with him for the first time just how crazy this plan had been. He knew from the start that it was dangerous, but only now did he feel like he understood what danger really was. 

When he caught sight of the hill, a feeling of relief hit his stomach.

Clarisse had caught up to the bulls. She was distracting them with her spear, ducking between them and leaving scratches on their bronze frames. She was yelling as she fought, making plenty of noise, but no one had come to her aid. That meant there wasn't anyone close by.

Just as Perseus arrived, though, like his very existence was a bad luck charm, he watched Clarisse mess up.

She was playing a dangerous game dodging the bulls, and this time, as she dodged she stepped in a divot left behind by a bull's heavy metal hoof. Her ankle twisted. She snarled, only staying down for a second, but it was clear she couldn't move perfectly anymore the way she needed to.

The bulls had some kind of thought process, or they could at least follow orders. When it became clear Clarisse couldn't stop them, they reoriented toward their original goal: the camp. When they'd taken a few steps up the hill, toward the large pine tree at its crest and the safe haven beyond that, Clarisse hurled her spear.

It was a perfect throw. The weapon hit one bull in the knee joint, piercing it and making the automaton limp to a stop. Both bulls turned toward Clarisse.

"Take that!" Clarisse bellowed, pumping her fist.

The sense of victory was short-lived. The bulls started toward her again— only one of them injured, and the girl now without her only weapon while sporting a limp. As tired as he was, Perseus had to act.

His brain raced while his eyes darted everywhere. In the half-second that he had to think, three plans came to him.

He could grab Clarisse and get her away. The bulls weren't going to follow them. It was clear what they really cared about was attacking the camp, so he was sure that even as injured as he and Clarisse were, they could make a clean getaway.

Of course, Camp wasn't prepared for an attack in any way. Without Clarisse to lead the defenders, who knew how much damage the bulls would cause before being dealt with.

Perseus also spotted the explosives crate nearby. With that, he'd have enough firepower to down even these monsters. He just had to bait them into breathing their fire on it, and the explosion could blow them away entirely.

But… an explosion like that wouldn't leave the area unscathed. It would almost definitely start a fire. And even if it didn't, Perseus couldn't help but glance at the tree nearby. The tall pine tree that Thalia specifically requested he keep standing, beyond everything else. As much as he believed she'd forgive him in a situation like this, he hated the idea of letting her down.

Finally, he could stall the bulls like Clarisse did. With his sword in hand, he could fight. Energy was still pumping in his veins, despite the blood across his torso. If he was going to push himself until the moment he finally crashed, he might as well go all-out, right?

Of course the idea scared him. These were frightening monsters even if he her were in perfect condition. After his near-death fight with Medusa, it was terrifying to think of going another round like that. But… would he really let a bit of fear stop him?

The bulls took another step. It was time to make his decision.

Choice: What should Perseus do?

Option A: Save Clarisse and keep them both safe.

Option B: Use the explosives to fight the bulls, at a risk to the environment.

Option C: Stall them himself with the energy he has left.

How to Vote: Write a review which says/includes A, B, C, etc. You can just write the letter, or feel free to type out all your reasoning. Who knows, you may even sway others to back your vote if you make a really good case. 

I will count votes cast across all the sites this story is posted to (see my profile for details) and go with whatever has the majority. Chapters will generally be spaced out by at least a week, to give plenty of time for everyone who wants to vote to get the chance to.