ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴇᴍ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xɪᴠ | [ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ ꜱᴄʀᴀᴛᴄʜ] ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Percy was forgiving when Zebediah said he wasn't going to be able to teleport them to the Vatican City. That's acceptable. It makes a lot of sense; Greek demigods can't use their magic in the Catholic Pope's domain. Valid.

What doesn't make sense is Zebediah teleporting them to the Alps. Yes, that's right. This tropical starfish decided that it would be a great idea to take them to the Alps, about seven hundred miles away from the Vatican.

He should have known something was up when Zebediah spewed some bullshit about snow being water too. Yes, snow is water too. No, it is not acceptable to send two people wearing T-shirts and jeans to a snowy mountain. This is a little too close to Zeus's domain for comfort. Then again, Zeus isn't exactly at the top of Percy's list of imminent dangers.

That spot of honor would go to the not-so-friendly centaurs inhabiting the section of the Alps Percy and Annabeth stumbled upon, and then taking spot number two would probably be the revelation that Annabeth had been drinking screwdrivers—not orange juice—with brunch.

Percy steps over Annabeth's vomit in the snow and then dodges a centaur's club, but his backpack slaps against the small of his back and he tumbles face-first into a muddy mixture of snow and dirt.

"Hey, can't we just talk this out?" Annabeth yells. "I mean, we know your friend! We know Chiron!"

Percy turns around. "Annabeth, I'm pretty sure they're not—Woah!" And just like that, he's draped across the behind of a centaur, hanging on for dear life as one of Chiron's angry cousins berates him in Italian for invading the centaur territory. Percy already apologized for that! These guys did not take kindly to lost tourists. They pretty much saw through that honeymooning tourist lie like it was a window and got straight to the trying-to-kill-Annabeth-and-Percy part.

They're efficient, Percy will grant them that, but that means there was no time for that witty banter of Annabeth's that seems to get them out of situations like these.

So the Alps, centaurs, Annabeth's vomit... Oh, and an angry starfish yelling at Percy from a mason jar tucked in the water bottle net on his backpack.

Get us off this horse, you asshole! Zebediah shouts.

"Don't you think that's what I'm trying to do?" Percy says through gritted teeth.

So do it faster!

Percy swallows his pride and then clears his throat. "Annabeth! Help!"

He can't see her, but he imagines she's working very hard to catch up to him and his captor; they are halfway up a pretty steep slope after all. Any minute now, he and Zebediah will be saved, and then he'll pour Kool-Aid powder into Zebediah's water because he put them into this situation in the first place.

Then Percy hears a man's voice shout, "Filgio di puttana!" Then there's a thud—no doubt a centaur hitting the ground. Percy thought he and Annabeth had a silent agreement that they would not kill any of Chiron's Italian cousins, but clearly, she didn't get the memo.

Holy shit, I think she stabbed that guy! Zebediah shouts. Get it, crazy bitch lady!

"Yeah, believe it or not, Zebediah, I'm familiar with what a sword stabbing someone sounds like," Percy says. At this point, things can't get any worse for him right now. The bar is on the floor. Somebody get Percy a shovel because the bar is lower than that.

The bar is below ground level and somehow the Fates managed to trip over it.

"Tony!" Percy's captor cries out.