"Okay, passing the bar where we played cornhole," Will repeats the directions to himself. He wishes that Nico wrote them down or something, but he's at least thankful that Nico gave him landmarks to go off of. Gods, the minute someone drops a street name, Will's a goner, lost forever trying to figure out what 34th street should look like.

Reyna and Calypso wave from a picnic table. Baby Jason is underneath playing with his toy train in the sand.

Will wants to warn them that the baby is dangerously close to hitting his head, but he figures it's best not to overstep his boundaries. He's just Nico's ex-boyfriend to them anyway.

"Not back for another beating, are you?" Reyna jokes.

Will waves back, wiggling his fingers. "Nah, I don't think I can take another beanbag to the face," he says.

"Or to the balls!" Calypso snorts and then eats the maraschino cherry from her Shirley Temple.

Will keeps walking, sort of wishing that Leo hadn't mentioned that detail to his wife... or was it Reyna that shared that?

"You should also see a volleyball court on your way. Take another right at the Jupiter statue," Nico's voice says in Will's head.

"Volleyball court." Will throws a runaway ball back to its owner and then wipes his hand on his jean shorts. He was not ready for it to be covered in slobber, but he's happy to have helped; it's a cute dog, after all, grey and scruffy. Will loves dogs.

"And... There's the Jupiter statue."

The Jupiter statue has seen better days. It's been vandalized with statements like "JASON GRACE WAS A HERO" and "JUSTICE FOR JASON". Some of the writing is fresh, with paint still dripping. Some of it looks like it's been there for years, and is decaying beyond legibility.

Will pauses to gaze up at Jupiter's eyes, which are blackened with spray paint. How could something like this happen? He hates Jupiter as much as the next demigod, but to deface a statue? Well, Will doesn't understand what good it could do for Jason. If anything, it'll just anger Jupiter, and everyone will pay the price.

Purple and white flowers sit at Jupiter's feet. Some are still alive, bright with vibrant colors, and others are dead, shriveled up and dropping various kinds of petals onto the concrete. Are they offerings to the king of the gods, or to his deceased son?

Will says a quick little prayer for Jason in his head, despite having not known the guy very long, and decides to take that next right.

Needless to say, his post-sex afterglow has been obscured by grief.

And then, by all things holy, there's the Starbucks. Will unfolds his wallet and retrieves the gift card that his mom sent for his birthday.

The familiar smell of pastries and roasting coffee beans could never in a million years overwhelm him.

He could get used to the New Rome Resort cafe. They can add nectar into his drink! Bring it on!

"Hi," Will says when he gets to the front of the line. "Can I get a, uh, an iced vanilla latte with a shot of nectar in it?" Despite the long line, he didn't properly rehearse his order in his head, so now he's stumbling to recite it to the barista, a college-aged girl with a beanie.

"What size?" asks the barista.

"Oh, it's been a long day. Get me a Venti please, will ya?"

"Coming right up!"

"Thanks."

Will steps to the back of the cafe, where several other people are waiting for their drinks. It's just like the Starbucks back at home in L.A. Everyone's wearing earbuds or AirPods or what have you, heads buried deep in their phones. It's nice, having no pressure to talk to anyone. Everyone's here buying liquid willpower to not punch the next person who dares speak to them. They call that 'coffee'.

Will's used to not having a phone to listen to music on.

Annabeth, on the other hand, is shameless. She'll listen on an old Discman on the rare occasion she goes for runs alone.

That's another hobby Will's gotten into since moving in with Annabeth, and she has a lot of hobbies. He's not about to let her go for runs in deep L.A. alone, and he's learned that he actually doesn't mind a nice long jog. Annabeth's a brutal exercise buddy. The first couple of times they went out together, he threw up on the pavement before they could get back to their apartment, but now-

"Iced vanilla latte for Will!" a barista calls.

Will skips up to the bar and takes his coffee. "Thank you!" he calls to nobody in particular. There's never anybody to receive your gratitude when Starbucks is busy, but it's impolite not to say 'thanks', and Will's mama raised him right.

He walks back the way he came, stopping every couple of steps to drink some coffee out of his sippy cup lid. He's never been able to walk and drink at the same time. Something always dribbles onto his chin and shirt, and he can't have that, especially since his wardrobe is limited.

He sings softly to himself and offers finger guns to a group of middle school-aged kids, who snicker among themselves as if there's something weird about a guy in his mid-twenties singing doo-wop music alone.

"How I wish I had some-one to talk to!" he sings.

Will passes the Jupiter statue once again and takes a seat on the ledge of its pedestal, taking in the wonders of this gorgeous day. It takes every fiber of his being to not stare at the sun. Can he stare at the sun? He is Apollo's son, but he doesn't want to risk further eye damage. Will just knows he's going to fail his next eye exam and he'll have to start wearing glasses. It's a cute look, but not one he can pull off.

He lets his head sway to the beat of the earworm in his head. Ah, coffee really puts him in a good mood. He'd nearly forgotten about the freaky Jupiter statue lurking behind him.

And then Will faceplants into the pavement, coffee and ice spilling outwards in front of him.

The spot between his shoulder blades hurts from being pushed so hard, he's bound to have a bruise tomorrow.

"What the hell?" Will mutters. He pushes himself up onto his elbows. They hurt from having scraped the ground. He's probably bleeding.

"Oh, my GAWD!" Will rolls onto his back just in time to evade another attack from a harpy.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Will's a healer, not a fighter.

How the heck does he even deal with this? Annabeth would just let her hair down and gut the thing, but that's not something Will can do, now, is it?

"Weapons. Weapons are helpful," he says. But he doesn't have a weapon. Who needs a weapon when you live with Annabeth Chase?

The best plan of action? Run for it.

Will scrambles to his feet and takes off down an alley, hopefully drawing the creature away from any passersby.

Good for Roman civilians and wedding guests, but not so good for Will.

And now he's backed into a corner like a goldfish in a piranha tank. This is just fantastic. Just what he needs in the middle of a nice sunny afternoon!

"Oh, sweet Jesus please don't eat me," he mutters. He can't even hear his pleas over the wind tunnel around him.

He wants to close his eyes and accept the end, but then all of the wind created by the harpy blows an empty Bud Light bottle into his foot. Perfect.

"Hey! What's that over there?" Not the best diversion, but anything'll do when you're fighting for your life.

And by George, it works!

Will wastes no time and gets right to smashing the bottle over the harpy's head, sending her straight into unconsciousness.

Then, just for good measure, he stabs her repeatedly in the back with a shard of glass, black goo spurting from each cut.

As a medical professional, Will does not endorse any of what he's doing.

"Oh, the body. Gotta get rid of the body. Where to... Oh!" Will grabs the corpse by the wings and drags her (it?) behind the dumpster at the end of the alley.

"And don't mess with me before I'm caffeinated!"

He wants to wipe his hands on his pants, but alas, they are also completely ruined and he now has to show his face- or more likely not, considering it's probably covered in fluids. How unsanitary!

***

"Hey, my guy, where've you been?"

"You don't have to be so damn chipper about it," Will mutters and slams the door, not caring that it echoes down the hall.

"Shit, man, are you alright?" Annabeth asks.

Will goes straight towards the bathroom and takes off his t-shirt, wringing the wetness out into the bathtub.

"C'mon, talk to me!" Annabeth calls.

Will stomps back into the bedroom and struggles to find some fresh clothes from his and Annabeth's shared drawers.

"Will!" She grabs him by the shoulder and puts him into a half-nelson. "What the hell is going on?"

"Agh." Will struggles. "Harpy..."

Annabeth releases her death grip. "Shit, really? And you killed it?"

"Don't act all surprised."

"I'm not! I'm just, uh... Should I put on Red?" She always knows what he needs.

Will crosses his arms. "Only if it's Taylor's Version."

Annabeth puts the CD into their old run-down player and turns the volume up the whole way.

"Skip this one," Will says.

Annabeth plays the next track.

"This one too."

Annabeth obliges once again.

"And this one."

"Is there one you want to hear?"

"This one's perfect." Will rests his back against the drawers, not caring that his shorts are ruined and probably staining the carpet.

And when the song ends, he says, "Play it again."

End of Part IV