Finley's Missing Shirt

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"Well, fu-" 

"Don't. You. Dare." Annabeth hissed to Finley. Despite the danger they were in, Annabeth seemed to take on the role of Steve Rogers, reprimanding her team for vulgar language. 

"-zz. Fuzz." Finley nodded with a pale face. "I was definitely going to say fuzz."

The group raced down the catwalk. Braires happily followed in his panic. 

Behind them, Kampê hissed and growled in ancient tongues as she flew after them. 

Their feet pounded on the metal stairs as they ran for their lives. Finley's braid flipped in the wind as she jumped down the last seven stairs, not caring that she might have sprained her ankle. 

They had just passed the guard's station when Annabeth spoke. 

"Left! I remember it from my field trip!"

"Didn't happen to remember an ancient monster, did you?" Finley shouted. 

"Well, I'm sorry! I didn't get much time to look around!" Annabeth called back. "I was a bit preoccupied trying not to punch a kid!"

The group found themselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. The bright sunlight nearly blinded Finley. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a blacktop spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn't see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn't give any hint that anything was wrong.

"It's even worse," Annabeth said, gazing to the north. "The storms have been bad all year, but that—"

"Keep moving," Braires wailed. "She is behind us!"

They ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cellblock as possible.

"Kampê's too big to get through the doors," Percy said hopefully.

Then the wall exploded.

"Sure! But she has the strength of Hulk!" Finley huffed. "Why wouldn't she? Fates must really love us!"

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..."

"Or we'll die?" Percy guessed.

"Well...after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes."

"Let's avoid the swords," Percy decided.

"Really?" Finley rolled her eyes. "Thought I'd just jump right into one!"

"Now is not the time for sarcasm!" Annabeth hissed. 

"Braires, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"

Instead, Braires looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.

Kampê thundered toward them on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body.

Percy froze for a moment, almost as if he were contemplating something. 

"Come on, Water Boy!" Finley shouted as she grabbed his hand, pulling him along. "You'll hurt yourself thinking that much."

Annabeth seemed to reason running was the best option as she shouted the order; run. 

The group had just reached the boat as a new group was unloading. Their eyes widened in terror as they barrelled toward them at full speed. 

"The boat?" Grover asked.

"Too slow," Tyson said. "Back into the maze. Only chance."

"We need a diversion," Annabeth said.

Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. "I will distract Kampê. You run ahead."

"I'll help you," Percy said.

"No," Tyson said. "You go. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But it won't kill."

"Are you sure?"

"Go, brother. I will meet you inside."

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