Fem Percy Jackson meets the Avengers

SO YOUR NAME ISN'T CLEMENT CLEANER?

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was vomit on the floor.

Which, for future reference, is not something I want to see when I wake up with a head throbbing like a Fall Out Boy concert in the back of my brain.

Also, pink vomit?

Hello, GROSS.

"Hello?" I asked out into thin air.

That was when the rest of my senses returned to me and I looked at my surroundings. I was in a plain white room, with three beds. Mine was the only occupied one. The only nonuniform thing in the room aside from me was the unmade beds. One of them surrounded by pink vomit.

I was wearing a fresh change of clothes too, a white smock with pants that looked suspiciously like pajamas.

HMMMMMMM

But were they pajamas?

Don't look at me like that, I'm asking the REAL questions over here.

That's when it hit me. There were no doors. No windows. The only light was the dingy ceiling lamps that flickered. Because the rest of the place was so shmancy, I assumed that was for #aesthetic.

When the wall opened up, I wasn't even half surprised.

"WHY AM I IN HERE?" I screamed in the nearest person's face.

It was a middle aged guy, 48 per se, with horrible stubble that dusted his face with prickles. He had dreadlocks too, long ones that touched the ground. From about a metre from the floor the hair was a white grey colour that signified that it had died. An interesting fashion choice. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit that said Cement Cleaner. An unfortunate name.

"WHERE AM I?" I screamed in his face again.

"Bro," he said in a voice that was unsettlingly zen. "I don't know, I'm just cleaning service. I was told this cell would be empty, so stalemate man."

"Well then," I waved my finger in his face. "Mr Clement Cleaner, you had better get out of my way so I can leave."

"He can't do that." Said a nondescript girl whose only quotable feature was pink highlights in her hair. 

She also wore a name badge that said Clement Cleaner. An awful name to be so popular.

"Why not, pray tell?"

She set her pretty little chin and stood in front of the currently-non-existent wall. "Not aloud. It's the Clement Cleaner policy to leave all prisoners with no knowledge of anything different."

My brain fuzzed over the word 'prisoner' and focused on the Clement Cleaner part, "wait. So Clement Cleaner isn't just an unfortunate name?"

She sighed. "No. We have a strict policy not to disclose our real name to prisoners."

This time my brain locked onto the word prisoners. Nope. Wasn't going to happen.

I didn't do damsel in distress. Distress, I could do. I'd done it many a time. But damseling? Puh-lease. Never going to happen.

I leapt into action.

Well, it was more like leaned forward into action since it turned out I was strapped to the bed, but hey, leapt sounds more epic.

No wonder those cleaners had so much nerve to speak up to me.

Bad brain. Bad. I shouldn't think like that.

I broke the bonds holding my hands and quickly ran out of the room while all the cleaners were preoccupied. The door - or should I say wall - was continuously trying to shut, but jammed on the broom that had been left leaning by it.

As the girl who had lectured me on not asking about anything leaned back on the door frame and, as she was minimally taller than the broom had the wall slam down on her head and bounce back off.

Now would probably be a good time for me to leave, I decided.