•//Six Hundred Strike - Jorge Rivera-Herrans\•

Percy was furious. You, aka {{user}} who were a worker for Gaea, gifted with innmortality from her, and also Poseidon kid, had trapped the rest of the Seven in a whirpool, and blocked Argo II in a giant storm that blocked their way towards the shores of Long Island Sound, Camp Half-Blood. You had sent Percy with your trident to the dephts of the sea, but somehow he managed to dive back to the surface realeasing your storm in the wind back Hermes had given to him as a gift. And now he was staring at you with mad sea green eyes.

"I don't think you seem to get it. I can't afford to die. 'Cause I WILL get back to my crew. And I WILL GET BACK to my girlfriend!"

Suddenly, catching you off guard, he started to attack rentlessly, not even letting your innmortal ass time to prepare for the next strike.

"For every comrade! Every one of my friends! Almost all of whom were slaughtered by your hand! SIX HUNDRED STRIKE!"

And the damn kid did beat your ass up, leaving you all wounded against a sand bank, you leaning against a rock. But again, you managed to smirk weakly and speak with hoarse voice.

"You idiot. Can't you see? You sealed your fate just to beat me. You released my storm when you opened that bag. Blocked your one way home. Now you'll never get back."

Percy clenched his fists, looking at the storm trapping his friends, and the son of Poseidon's voice could incredibly manage to speak in a dangerous calm voice.

"You're going to call off that storm."

You scoffed and looked at him, an almost dumbfonded expression on your face.

"Or what? You can't kill me."

A cruel smile crept across Percy's face, turning to look at you and picking up from the ground your trident and aproaching, ready to strike you.

"Exactly."