I'm updating on a Wednesday. I don't even care anymore about my bs "updating schedule".

So I'll update on… what was my update day again? I can't flippen remember. Oh well, I'll update every weekend. Or I'll try anyway (again, last year of high school)

Anywho…

I've had a lot of people commenting/sending me messages discussing the person who won in the last chapter. Stuff about how Annabeth would have beat him easy, or how Spiderman is much stronger than her…

Just to address all that I would like to say: I conducted a vote on this so not to anger anyone who feels that their character is "better". The victor was chosen democratically. I also made the fight as dynamic as I could so both fighters' talents were shown and there was no clear "superior".

The only thing I agree is ridiculous about that chapter is Annabeth biting through the webbing, as a reader has pointed out. I'm considering re-writing that part or do you guys think its fine? Comment on what you think.

I couldn't get up there; the ladder was rolled up and my access to the fire escape was restricted. I looked around. There was an old battered abandoned couch and dust bin close by, maybe I could use that to reach it. But first…

I looked down and inspected the damage. My hand was severely swollen, looking a little like a beaten-up caricature cartoon character if I had to be honest. The only thing that was not at all cartoonish about it was the bone sticking out of pinkie finger. I grimaced; I had to do it. Ambrosia won't work until you've set it straight.

I gingerly touched the finger, and with my eyes closed and my shirt collar in my mouth, I quickly corrected it. What initially was a scream turned into a rhythmed, muted shrieked cover of Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. I continued to hum as I did the same thing with my nose.

Thank the gods it's over, I thought. I checked my pockets for ambrosia; no such luck. It was in my jacket, the one I had dropped onto the other roof.

After about 10 minutes, I was scaling up the ladder (extraordinarily painful if your finger is still broken) and I was climbing the stairs with heaving breaths. My sword was strapped to my thigh after I found it in a dumpster. I wasn't sure if it had landed there or if someone had mistaken it for a broken umbrella and thrown it away.

I managed to get my dagger back, narrowly avoiding falling. Wouldn't be much good saving the world twice then dying by slipping off a ledge.

I reached the level that he was lying limp. I wasn't sure if he was truly unconscious or merely faking it. I crouched down to peer at his wrists, noticing how the white, silken ropes came out of his wrists. I pulled up his sleeves and was met by something unexpected: it was a device. It was artificial webbing!

I don't know why I was so surprised: he was a mortal superhero, not an actual spider. He probably got this gadget to go strong on his Arachne theme.

I stripped him of the weapon, tucking them into my pockets. I then used my dagger to cut the webbing into one long strip, which I repurposed to bind his wrists and ankles together.

I lifted him up – by Poseidon's left butt cheek, he was light. I carried him up to the roof, hid him under the water tower above the apartment block and waited.

SOMETIME LATER

I was so cold; the ice wormed itself into my skin, chilling my blood to the point that my bones felt brittle. I turned my head slowly, looking forlornly at my clothing on the other roof. I had already checked if there were a way in. Unfortunately, it was a new building and was not obligated to add in fire escapes. And there was no way I could ask any of the tenants of the building if I could fetch it. It would raise too many questions like: "What were you doing on my roof?" and "Why are you carrying an unconscious spider guy with you?"

I squinted up at the sky, my muscles trembling on my bones. No, I must be going crazy. That was a helicopter again right?

I stood up, quickly checked if Spiderman was still out cold and his binds were still in place. I walked up to the edge of the roof and squinted some more. Do I need glasses or something? I swear I'm going blind, I thought.

No, no – that was definitely a winged horse.

I screeched, bursting into action. I jumped up and down, waving my arms and yelling "PERCY! BLACKJACK!"

They stopped cruising along the sky, now diving down at a much faster speed. Blackjack's hooves gracefully clopped onto the dirty floor and not even a second after, Percy's converse slapped down in a less-than-graceful movement.

He barrelled forward, taking me into his arms. His cheek was burning hot against my cheek. I wasn't sure whether that was because blood was rushing to his face or because my cheek was cold.

It was clearly because I was freezing because as soon as he touched me, he recoiled.

"Holy Hera, you're flippen' cold!" he exclaimed before pulling me in again.

My teeth were chattering too much to talk so I just pointed to the opposite building.

He didn't seem to understand what I was pointing at but after a minute of me trying to get him to notice it, he did. "Oooohhh, your jacket! Wait, your jacket. What's it doing over there?"

I rolled my eyes. I still didn't have enough muscular control to talk without my chattering teeth taking my tongue off. I pointed at Blackjack then at Percy then at the jacket.

Percy had this stupid slow look of realisation and didn't bother with the ever annoying phrase: "Then why didn't you just say that?"

He fetched my jacket for me – which had frozen into its heaped form. Percy snapped it and bent it until I could at least put it on. He positioned me underneath the Pegasus' wing, where I was welcomed into glorious warmth.

While I warmed up and chewed on a square of ambrosia, Percy was telling me what happened after I disappeared. I wasn't really listening to what he was saying, mainly focusing on getting warm enough to figure what to do with the Spiderman situation.

"…I had just managed to get Blackjack out from behind the counter and stop raiding the displays. At the point, people no longer thought he was a poodle. I swear one of the old guys screamed it was a diablo. I literally had to drag him out by his –"

"Sp-spiderman ki-ki-kidnapped mm-me," I interrupted.

Percy had stopped his story time, staring at me with wide eyes. "Like, Spiderman Spiderman? The leotard guy?"

"N-no, Seaweed Brain, the other Spiderman. Of c-course it was sp-Spiderman!" I snapped, still miserably cold.

Percy had his hand in his pocket automatically, something he always did when he was cautious or shocked. I did a similar thing when I was threatened.

"Why would he kidnap you though? I thought he was a part of another magical sphere or something. Like, one for aliens and stuff," Percy asked in his extremely articulate manner.

"I'm not sure you can call them a separate magical sphere, although I don't know what else to call them," I replied. "But that aside, he seemed to think I was some kind of assassin sent out to kill him. I don't know why."

Percy stared at me blankly, his face clearly reflecting my present predicament: What the hell Spiderman?

"He's behind you by the way," I mentioned offhandedly and delighted in the way how he did an 180-degree pivot, Riptide already in his hand. I laughed loudly and I would feel Blackjack moving in an odd up and down manner that I assumed was horsy merriment.

Percy seemed to realise I had just pulled his leg. He capped his sword and slowing turned back. "So not cool, Annabeth," he pouted dejectedly. My smile got broader if that was possible.

"No, but seriously though. I tied him up and he's under that thing," I pointed at the water tower. Percy gave me a look and proceeded to venture into the area.

Almost immediately he had gone, he was back with the limp body in his arms.

"Wow, a real superhero," Percy grinned goofily. I grinned back in response; I couldn't believe Percy was fanboying over someone like this when he was my – and possibly the world's – biggest hero.

After a moment of silence, he looked up from gawking with mischief in his eyes. "Have you checked out his face?" he asked curiously.

I baulked. I had never thought to take off the mask; which just went to show how much a mask could dehumanise a person. I would know; I had seen the corrupting nature of facades from personal experience.

"… No," I replied honestly.

"Seriously? Aren't you curious?" Percy urged and at his words I was suddenly burning with the need to know.

I pushed Blackjack's wing away, feeling less at risk of hypothermia. "You hold him down; I don't know if he's actually asleep or not. He could be faking it. But I bonked him on the head for good measure a while back," I instructed and Percy compliantly anchored our captive to the ground.

I brought my hands to Spiderman's neck, slipping my fingers under the fabric. I slowly pulled it up, trepidation keeping my breath baited in my lungs.

I was by his lips now; it was cover in blood from the time I had punched it. His nose was in a similar state, although it had already healed. I was surprised; I had thought he was just a mortal with fancy tech.

I pulled it up to eyes and I finally realised why his lower face had itched my memory so.

It was gods-damned Peter Parker.

DEAL WITH THAT CLIFFIE BBIIICCCHHHH

Jamie Edge