Atticus Vs Lester

Atticus vs Lester

(This takes place during TOA: The Tyrant’s Tomb, shortly before Caligula’s second attack on CJ)

Atticus frowned as he heard two sets of footsteps approaching him from behind. Moonshine whinnied impatiently, turning to see the visitors. Atticus’s frown deepened as he saw who was there; a boy with an acne ridden face, unkept brown hair, and blue eyes. With him was a young girl with black hair in a page-boy haircut, cat-eye glasses, and a green dress with yellow tights and red high tops.

Atticus wasn’t bothered by the young girl; the boy was the one that ticked him off. Atticus narrowed his eyes, “Apollo.”

Apollo gave a small wave, as if he was nervous, “Hey, Atticus. I… We need your help.”

The young girl, Meg McCaffrey, eyed Atticus wearily. He could almost admire her caution.

Atticus looked back to Apollo, raising an eyebrow, “Help you?“

Apollo nods, “Yes. C—“

Atticus interrupts, speaking sharply, “Why would I help the likes of you, a god?”

Apollo pauses, his expression bewildered, “What?”

Atticus scowled slightly, “You heard me. Why would I help a god, hm?”

Apollo blinks in surprise, “Because we need your help, Atticus..”

Atticus’s grip on Moonshine’s reins tightens. “Gods always need a demigods help, don’t they? They never so anything for themselves.”

Apollo frowns, “Well, yes, but—“

Atticus cuts Apollo off once more, “The only reason you’re here is because you’re a mortal. If Zeus hadn’t dropped you into New York as a human, you wouldn’t be here.”

Apollo opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it again.

Atticus sneers, “And you know I’m right about that, don’t you? If you were never made mortal, you and the other gods would’ve simply tossed some demigods at the problem, and you wouldn’t have cared if they died, would you?”

Apollo’s lips pressed into a thin line, then he spoke up, “I’ve changed.”

Atticus let out an amused huff of air, “For now. You’ll forget it all once you’re a god again, won’t you?”

Apollo shook his head vigorously, “No, I won’t! Gods can change!”

Atticus frowned, “Why would they, though? Gods have lived one way that’s worked for so long, why would they change now?”

Apollo frowned as well. Atticus continued, “They’re scared of change at this point.”

Apollo hesitated. He had no argument. The gods truly were scared of change after so many centuries of living the same way.

Apollo shook his head, “W-well.. I’ll change! Please, we need your help. I promise to be better.”

Atticus scoffs, “For the time being. Tell me, Apollo—” Atticus said the name with a certain hatred only he could conjure up, “—how many deaths have happened? How many good demigods have fallen because the gods wouldn’t get up off of their asses and fix the problems they created? Need I remind you of the people I’ve lost because of you and the other gods?!”

Atticus was getting a little heated now. Apollo sighed, “Atticus, please—“

Atticus snarled, “Luke, Ethan, my chosen mother Aoi, all the unnamed losses of the war on Kronos— My own brother, Jason Grace, is dead because the gods wouldn’t fix their own damn problems!”

Apollo frowned, trying to speak in a gentle and soothing tone to calm Atticus, “Atticus, Jason made his choice. We couldn’t have saved him, it was prophesied.”

Atticus saw red, the shadows starting to churn with his anger. He dismounted Moonshine, he started to come down the hill he had landed on to rest, down towards Apollo. “You didn’t even try! You just watched as he was killed!“

Apollo yelped, frozen in shock. A sob built up in Atticus’s throat. Meg attempted to hurry forward to stop Atticus as he tackled Apollo.

Atticus drove his fist into Apollo’s face multiple times, drawing blood and possibly breaking his nose and busting his lip. After a few punches, he drew his blade of choice: a Stygian iron atheme. He lifted his arm, his sight zeroing in on Apollo’s throat as he hesitated for a split second, then he slammed the blade down into the dirt, leaving a thin red line across the side of Apollo’s throat, a single drop of blood falling to the ground. Meg froze in shock, a million thoughts running through her head; she wondered if Apollo was dead, then mentally scolded herself that he was stabbed in the throat, so of course he was dead! She was too far away to help, so what was she meant to do? Why was Atticus still sitting there, staring at Apollo’s broken, bloodied face?

Atticus backed off, pulling his blade from the dirt and backing away from Apollo, who struggled to sit up. Meg gave a faint breath of relief when Apollo did manage to sit up, meaning he wasn’t dead.

The demigods body shook with emotion. He took a breath, “You’re lucky, Apollo. My brother sacrificed himself to save you. And it’s the only thing saving you from my blade.”

Atticus turned away and trudged back up the hill, towards Moonshine.

“It’s pathetic that even in death my brother is still protecting you.” He growls, putting away his atheme.

Moonshine neighed and huffed, kicking at the dirt lightly as Atticus climbed onto her back. Atticus looked at Apollo, his expression slightly saddened. Apollo looked back at him. Atticus spoke firmly, giving a command, “Do me a favor.”

Apollo nodded slowly. Atticus sighed, adjusting himself on the saddle, “Make sure that Frank and Reyna make it out alive. I can’t lose them, too. I don’t want to know what I’d do if something happened to them….”

Apollo nodded, “Of course.”

Atticus nodded as well, looking out at the Bay area, knowing it would be filled with Caligula’s yachts soon. “Good.”

With that, Moonshine took off, carrying Atticus with her.