Hey everyone, this is Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new story idea of mine that is going to blow my mind for the sheer ridiculousness and size of it. I hereby call it, Primetime Hour, and that is thankfully to the fact I got reintroduced and binge-watched the HBO show The Newsroom a couple of days ago where I watched Seasons 2 and 3, fifteen hours in total, between two days and it downright filled me with a love for that type of drama. While the political topics often times careened into ways that certainly would upset people, the characters and dialogue downright made me enjoy every morsel and sound bite I heard. So thus this idea was born. Primetime Hour will be quite a long piece, breaking forty chapters if I can make it. The catch is that every scene in every chapter is no shorter than 3000 words. I may eventually have to break up bits into arcs, and make the chapters shorter as there's a word limit of 9k minimum that I plan on reaching every single chapter (though my optimal is 15k which is damn freaking huge, I know). This is a Rated M piece for primarily language, but just like in Nico di Angelo's Hopeless Guide to Love, this'll have the good ole Percy x Nico that I know everyone loves. Unfortunately, I've felt the need to entirely scrap my old piece Beautiful Bizarre that this is taking the place of, though I may eventually write that as well. Because of the word count demands I'm asking to give myself, chapters may take a very long time to make but enjoyable and fulfilling to read. I am writing the story in the present tense as I'm told it is my best style, I'll just have to learn on how to be able to change P.O.V's correctly. There will be OC's sprinkled out where there needs to be one, but every major character comes from the Olympian fandom clearly, and that is enough to rejoice as spinning canon is beyond fun. The excitement I'm feeling cannot be overstated, but I feel pumped for generally everything I do. Thank you very much for sticking with it, and enjoy Chapter #1: Beginning of the End, for Primetime Hour.

Percy Jackson P.O.V

"There's never enough silence..."

That's the quote that rings through Percy Jackson's head on this particular night, a night where the crickets howl and the birds sing, where the rubber soles on his shoes wear into the tile like discarded globs of gum, where the headlights of the taxis below glow a serene violet than the typical fluorescent shower they decorate the streets with, and where all he wants to do is feel the wind in his hair while he sits out the hours after the broadcast.

Even this far up he can hear the chattered buzzing, pedestrians moving to and from their work places, embracing the abandoned feel of the roads or shuddering heavily as the work pile for the evening is dropped into already tired and cramped hands. For Percy himself, he always finds himself taking to the roof and feeling as if he's interwoven between the fluffiness of the clouds and blinded by the stars above. This night has been particularly rough, and he knows all the bosses in the world at the right place and time will give him their two cents and he'll go trudging back to his vast apartment and want to drown in a black sludge that slightly resembles booze.

He longs for a cigarette. Percy knows that his old boyfriends and girlfriends used to tell him never to smoke, as it makes the apparent wrinkles in his face poke through from constantly being overworked. The stress is evident, he feels it sag down on his shoulders and leave puncture wounds on the small of his back where when he's peeled back like an onion, layer after layer, there are marks pressed into the skin that break the epidermis and snag at his heart. He looks up at the stars, wistfully in fact - though he's done this a thousand times and has never stuck to a single word to cover the emotion he lives out - and for some reason this night hurts worse than all the others combined.

Percy Jackson, and rightfully so at thirty-nine, can say that's he's amounted to quite a lot in his life. For being born and raised as a New Yorker is quite not enough, he has to go and propel himself to the top of the food chain; an action that takes years and by the time he's thirty he finds himself being the head anchor for the second largest news station in the continental United States.

"Olympian News Network..." he whispers, where only the solemn stones and their crevices hear his words. Percy recalls, though the thought is faint as it has been quite awhile, that when he used to be a six year-old and sit on the living room floor of his quiet suburban house, he'd actually beg his father to put on the news every Saturday and Sunday evening. There he'd see titans - figuratively, not the actual Titans from the Titan Network - in business suits, sheer coats of black, dark navy blue, and brown do what they do best. Report the news and look hella good while doing it. He wants that to be his job, Percy decides randomly after a cold leftovers chicken dinner from three nights prior. There is rain pounding the windows, a shitty air signal going through outdoors from the satellite that still hasn't been paid for, and he's probably around the age of thirteen. He, like many thirteen year olds are having their mid-life teenage crisis, and for the fact he found out what job he wants to be his is the icing of the cake for it pushes him to be better than anyone... though his grades may not have shown that.

Twenty-six years later, Percy is able to clap his hands together anytime the thought passes his mind. He's managed to give himself quite the good name and an even better reputation from his flashing smiles and the fact that he's able to charm just the pants off of near everyone, boy and girl alike. He blushes right up to his neck, and Percy remembers his first time having any sort of intimate relationship... and gods he does not want to go down that path again.

He breaks away from the wall and runs a hand through his hair, taking another long sigh that is done through years and years of practice with cigarette smoke, and luckily for him he'll smoke away till his lungs dye black and then jumping off the Olympian Network's building perhaps won't be what kills him. Percy bites down on his tongue as he really, really doesn't want to think about tonight's broadcast and let his EP - Executive Producer's - words flow right down on his back. Except, he's not a rock where water only makes the surface smooth, but a china doll which collapses to the ground and shatters when someone ghostly glances it with a crooked finger.

The woman's face, curled up and bent at his face while he tries debating with her the pros and cons of internet media, stays forever in his mind when she mentions the problem. Not only does she mention it, which Percy already feels bad at, but she runs with it and lets the world feel as if they should antagonize him about it too. Percy Jackson openly admits that he's bisexual, and generally feels no shame in living his life like the man he's supposed to be, doing it the way he wants. However, his guest, which he realizes he has forgotten the damn name to, does it just so that the twisting of the knife feels like the entire furnace of Hell has spilled onto his back, and Percy breaks. He balks back at her with a tartness in the tongue that is so sour that it makes his ears pop. Percy storms out of the studio, tearing his suit off with very little to no finesse, and then he sees the boss, the EP, and boy isn't a reckoning coming for him.

Percy is a man of many words, but the face on Reyna Ramirez-Arellano's face is hardly something he knows how to describe. He's known her to constantly admire his showmanship and his effusive charm, and understands the integrity of journalism. But, her eyebrows are furrowed this time in anger and there's no brightness in her eyes except for the emotion of cold fury.

"The world is cruel, Percy! She's one woman! That doesn't mean all of America finds you disgusting!"

"I don't think you get it Reyna."

"I do get it! You just told her off on our air! For calling yourself a professional, that seemingly fits the book definition of being quite the opposite over a personal trait! You've been doing this for six years with me and I've never seen you get unhinged like that. I'd really not like to write to the board of whatever group she belongs to in an apology. That just won't work!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you, Percy. What do you expect me to do? I can't fire you for that. I just am unsure the audience at home will forgive you... and- well, we'll never get another source in that field of the ballpark ever again either..."

"Look, tomorrow night will be much better. I promise."

"You better. Unless you want the Titans gloating about in the Times, we make sure there's no collateral. Get some rest, Percy."

"You know where I'm going Reyna. I always go to the roof."

"Hopefully it'll fix you so Ares doesn't."

For an odd reason, Percy feels ashamed in this singular moment on that issue. He's used to the negative press feed, clearly, but it reminds him of a time where there's less facial hair underneath his chin, and the fingers wrapped around his left hand aren't from his own. Percy breaks away from looking at the sky. Not tonight. But he cannot help himself. He does not want to think of him tonight. All of the ones, this is the worst. There's a smile full of teeth, a bite on his shoulder, a black tussle of hair similar to his own, and piercing white skin that blends in with the sheets. And Percy'd be damned if he ever forgets the fact he met his first boyfriend in a newsroom, inside a building specifically dedicated to the news.

That's situational irony if he's ever heard of it.

The conversation goes well over in his head, as he's tried replaying it a thousand times before.

"I'm sorry. We just can't be together anymore."

"... Percy? I don't understand."

"It has never worked. On the surface, maybe, but not now. Not ever. You know that, at least deep inside."

"Are you ashamed of us being together? Because I'm another man?"

"Yes and-"

"The public shouldn't give a fuck about that and you know it!"

"But they do! They hate me for it, they just can't bring themselves to say it."

"Don't be a coward. I thought those days were gone!"

"I'm not a coward, and don't you dare accuse me of being one. I'm just taking the highroad."

"The highroad? By dumping me in the middle of Times Square? Sounds quite all of my other relationships."

"Just realize I'm not trying to be mean."

"Not trying? I think you're quite succeeding!"

"I'm sorry."

"No you aren't."

Percy's words hold up to this day. He's sorry, shit sorry, but nothing will ever get better for him he feels. He finds it odd when thinking about the parallels, that there's reflection in the first break-up to his real first screw-up. From relationships to the newsroom, the problem is still the same and that Percy Jackson does not take a true, a full fledged one hundred percent confidence in who he wants to love. He's left those comments off the air, to Reyna's happy admission, but there's still the guests who want their fifteen minutes of fame by sticking it to him that he's nothing worth much more than a pile of rocks on the roadside somewhere.

He shudders, the air getting cold as time continues to roll around past nine. The sun has finally disappeared beneath the ground, azure waves and amaranthine shards of the sky falling to the concrete floor. Oh how Percy wishes to change the past and never leave the first relationship, as he's transported to a crazed man who wants his meat unspoiled, blemish free... so the new whore of the week can stare in the mirror and count the bruises marking their backs, or the blood smears underneath their eyes that counts as eye shadow. Dark fears paralyze him where Percy realizes in four days time that his newfound relationship is toxic and he wants to leave, but lets the abuse somehow translate into love.

The makeup artists never ask where the bruises on his face come from, or the languid scratches down his back that pierce the skin and draw out crimson droplets. It takes him two years and the continuous humiliation and pain that is unable to be replicated anywhere else before Percy lashes back and lets go, falling into a comatose state where work is the only thing on his mind - Reyna's happy, the higher-ups are delighted, the ratings soar, and Percy is miserable - until he wants to never read another word from a teleprompter ever again. His DNA however refuses to back down, and so Percy gruels to fight another day.

For the time being, Percy sits comfortable. Cushioned chairs and exquisite breakfasts and lunches at his behest, gourmet coffee brewed in Sweden and enhanced in Belgium, before being placed in his hands by the fifth intern of the week as he dislikes how she's dressed so scantily, or the guy who gropes too far. Percy learns that the best way to stifle words he should never speak to anyone lest they put him in a grave is by biting his lip or literally chomping down on his tongue so there's a memory of the abuse to paralyze him still. Eyes that widen and look about like a deer in the headlights slowly recede away as the years go by, where his confidence and mannerisms rise, but there's a catch. He hears it whispered along the cracks of the plain painted wall that people think his touch is slowly being reduced to only knowing how to snag men and women for a night between games of poker and knowingly lust filled sex. He denies the claims and keeps on keeping on till the gas tank runs empty, and Percy rants to the ones who'll care to listen that the world is hard enough as it is - fuck, he does not need this pressure on his shoulders - and that people need to keep their mouths shut.

He wants to keep his mouth shut, he honestly should, from the times before and there'll never be anything else to fix the problems of the past. Percy yearns to scream at his younger self to never end the relationship, to never move newsrooms, and then perhaps everything will be alright.

The phone in his pocket vibrates, meaning he's been sent a text, and that reminds him that he needs to change his ringer for a phone call so it no longer sounds like a dog choking on a piece of ham steak. He accidentally kept it on for a morning run, dropped it, and so the sound remains because he's constantly pulled in twenty million directions that there's never time to go back and fix it.

Percy shields his eyes away from the phone screen as the bright light momentarily blinds him where he can see it through his back turned hand. The anchor glimpses at the text, and exhales deeply.

"Of all the times she wants to meet for dinner, good god..." he groans to himself.

The text, which lovingly reads, Dear Percy Jackson. I, to be honest and horribly blunt, do not care if you're on your roof time or whatever the fuck you want to call it. Make it known that this might be the one time I'll ever use the f word in a text message. Looking at it now, I'm unsure whether I should keep it in there, but maybe it'll drive the message in clearer. Yes, it's late, but that's never mattered to me and I need to see you now. Right now, if you can. You're dressed rather nicely, I'm dressed rather nicely, and we need to chat. A few drinks if food is not what you wish to stomach. Meet me in fifteen minutes (I'm keeping track of it my phone, I'm putting a timer on it immediately after I send this) at that local bar shim thing I know some of your staff eat out at during their breaks. We've got a lot to discuss and some of it I'm sure you won't like. Sincerely, someone you controls every move that you make. See you in fifteen.

He laughs somewhat at the ramble on the insecurity on swearing, since he knows it fits her character to the T, and sighs. A dinner proposal and request to show up is the exact nature of his contact, and he loves her for it, wishing that it shall never be changed.

Percy stretches his arms out and heads for the elevator.

Leaving people unattended has never quite been his style.

Athena Dimitri P.O.V

Athena Dimitri feels that one can learn a lot about a person simply from how they walk into a restaurant. While the weather could be rain or shine, snow or hail, or even just gusty winds, she learns all there is from their posture, facial expressions, and the tone of voice they give to the host or hostess. Athena asks the host, with the sweetest smile she can muster, and it hardly matters at which restaurant - personally Italian is her favorite, but the woman is willing to make sacrifices - that she's able to get a table that is prime viewing of the front door just so she can participate in her activity.

So far throughout the ten minutes she's been waiting with the phone by her side timing away, Athena has seen a punk rock teenager and his clearly frightened mother stumble in, a dad who drags four toddlers on their heels behind him, and a divorced or divorcing couple that she hears them shouting about how they've never loved each other for quite some time. She smirks into her glass of bourbon when the couple, still arguing, get their seats only a few tables down from her.

The opposite seat sits emptily, and Athena would like if she could speak to it as if someone actually has placed their butt in it. She knows that'd mean there'd be hundreds of wide eyed stares all thinking this woman is plain senile, but Athena has sent the wrong message for so many years she's gotten tired of trying to get people to think anything other than that Athena Dimitri is downright batshit crazy. She winces at the curse in her thoughts - it's a prerogative in her to never swear though her message to a certain recent confidant broke that role quite extensively - but the bustle of the bar continues. She downs the rest of her drink, hails down the waiter for another, and then smiles eagerly when the glass is once again being clutched by slender fingers.

Afar, she continues to look at the door, and then in he bustles. She sees that the man is quite out of breath, eliciting an eye roll from Athena as she's known the man to be one on the high-end of energy and never takes a moment to pause. Athena has half the mind to shout out his name in the middle of the bar and let him deal with the repercussions of being stared at as if he's some sort of unicorn. Athena Dimitri likes unicorns, and almost as much as she likes humiliating her friends in public, but tonight she's strictly a professional.

He goes over to the hostess, and asks for Athena Dimitri. The hostess points, and the two lock eyes. She raises her head up, a grin lacing her features and the rest of the bar disappears. The man's face lights up between half amusement and perhaps half annoyance, but she hardly has time to address his emotions. She notices that he straightens out his back and his postures sticks up like a stick. He's dressed in a warm and comfortable dark suit that accompanies his eyes and hair quite lovely, and Athena wishes that she could fall in love with him just for a second, even if it is a paradise she knows that'll never be achieved.

Athena downs her second cup of bourbon. She may want to be completely drunk at this point.

Percy Jackson, the head anchor of Olympian News, waltzes - waltzes, Athena frowns, that's quite fancy for a not so fancy guy - up to the table and places his hands on the back of the chair. She gives him a look over and sees he has indeed cleaned himself up, the shadows accentuating his eyes quite well as they illuminate under the low candlelit light surrounding the room. He's picked himself up from the disaster of tonight's broadcast, and everything has made up for itself tenfold.

He breaks the ice first. "Did you really have to say what you did in your text?"

She raises an eyebrow. "The beginning or the end?"

"You know what I mean," Percy sighs, running a hand through his hair. "The swear."

Athena nods, understanding. "It isn't quite my style, but I knew it would get your attention," she smiles. "And getting your attention it did, as you showed up," she checks her phone timer and lets out an airy laugh. "You're late by about six minutes. Any reason?"

He gives her a grin full of teeth, and the pressure on both of their shoulders lightens up by a near quadrillion percent. "None of my answers would be ones that you'd believe. So, no, I don't have any reasons."

"Excuses, rather."

"Do you happen to know what time it is, Athena, or did that just skip your mind entirely?"

"I quite well know what time it is, and that's exactly why I wanted to meet so late. If I was to talk to you tomorrow, I'd have you mourning the loss of tonight and you'd definitely not be focused."

"As if me being focused has ever been the focus of our problems."

Athena raises an eyebrow. "Are you saying that I put too much blame on you?"

"Exactly that," Percy says, and then turns to the waiter who came back to their table. "A water, please. Extra ice."

She watches him give the order, and the waiter nods, bustling away because it's Percy Jackson giving the order, and no one wants to end up on his bad Christmas card list. Do people actually have those? Athena decides in about a matter of ten seconds that there are in some families, perhaps the Midwest, but she doesn't like dwelling on things like that, trivial and mundane matters that do not, in fact, matter. Athena leans back in her chair, arms folded over her chest, and she smiles. Percy looks at her, confused.

"What?"

"Nothing," she answers. "You exude the likings of a professional, even when you order."

"Is it because I said please?"

"People my age forget to say the word please."

"You're not that old Athena."

"Still old enough to remember the first Bush administration," Athena smirks. "The first, first one, after Reagan," she adds on.

Percy gets his water and begins stirring it with the straw. Athena starts to count the number of ice cubes but gives up after awhile as there are far better activities to spend right now with her time, and so she goes back to conversing with the head anchor and watching the people waltzing - on second that, Athena loves the word - through the doorway. Percy takes a sip of his water, and Athena downs another glass of bourbon.

"You should stop that," he says mysteriously after a moment.

"Stop what?"

"Drinking so heavily."

"It's not that much," Athena defends herself. "Trust me, if you think I drink badly, you should see how much Ares takes in one meeting."

"How many has this been tonight?" Percy continues to drink his glass of water, hands grabbing at the table cloth and bunching it up together in his hands.

"Three."

"And how many do you plan on drinking before the night is up?"

"Too many to count," she declares smugly, eliciting a groan from Percy. "Besides, from what Reyna tells me, my constant squabbling over the eight o'clock hour is starting to get on everyone's nerves. Maybe the entire newsroom deserves a drunk and relaxed Athena Dimitri."

"And that'd get you fired in minutes if Ares finds out you walked topless across the news floor," Percy smirks.

Athena shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "What makes you say I'd be walking topless? I don't take the most amazing confidence in my body anymore. I'm almost fifty."

"Fifty is the new thirty. Titan News said so."

"Titan News is run by an old hag and a man who thinks he's too good for the journalism industry," Athena snaps. She hails down the waiter and gleefully watches the glass fill up with an amber mahogany liquid that satisfies the soul and quenches her undying need to drink.

Percy laughs with her, and his emerald eyes begin to glow. He's glad to see Athena act the way she is, a scholarly yet bombastic individual with many hopes and dreams as the head of the news division for Olympian News Network, because Olympian News is also Olympian Enterprises and has many more branches and inner divisions than just the journalistic side of the spectrum. Athena remembers when her contracting agent brings up a fashion agency as a possible field to delve into, and she spits her glass of soda all across her agent's dress at the downright silly idea. "My body is not for modeling or runways!" she cries proudly. "I'm a reporter!" And then Athena watches as her agent drives away all while still flipping her off from the back of the taxi.

He shakes his head low at the table and puts his elbows up against the side of the table. "What did you call me down for? You could be chatting with anyone else in the building, and I think you don't chat with employees unless there's some secret up your sleeve."

"What? I do like you," Athena discharges the question harmlessly, flippantly flowing her hair over her shoulder. Underneath the candlelight, Athena's glowing long locks of a near olive black shade of hair sit against her pale shoulders like cool leather, her radiant and piercing hazel eyes causing cracks in Percy's glass of ice with a side of water. "I view you as a friend."

"Am I safe in calling you my friend?" Percy wonders.

"If you'd like," she agrees coolly.

There's a pause between them, and Percy sits up, clearing his throat. "So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about that can't wait for tomorrow? The broadcast?"

"Yes and no," Athena says cryptically.

"Yes and no?"

"While the broadcast certainly left you unhinged, there's always that one time in an anchor's life that their A game gets sideswiped. Reyna only flipped out on you because she saw the effect that woman's words had on you, and personally there's not much I can do but slap your wrist and get it over with to tell you to try and keep your cool again," Athena chews on the inside of her cheek. "The other thing is that Ares is making some executive decisions alongside my approval with the news team."

"Is that the no?"

"That's the no."

"What kind of changes?" Percy sits up in his seat, eyes alert. The waiter comes by and asks for what they'd want, but Athena dismisses him gently, with an assured squeeze on the arm for a more evident message that the two would rather be left alone.

Athena looks as if she's swallowed a frog, and her face has little to suggest she's happy by this sudden turn of events. All she has to do is remind herself that she placed herself in this precarious position by even admitting their boss has made altercations, though they may be slight, up to Percy's attention at all. Percy is a thinker and the paranoia will get to him eventually. "Well... we'll be getting a new EP for you."

Percy raises his eyebrow in shock. "What? Wait, what? Athena?"

She puts her hands out so the word vomit won't continue and the rest of the restaurant won't think he's some sort of crybaby. "If you'll let me explain-"

"Is Reyna really that upset about me blowing the interview that somehow in the past hour you've known of her wanting to switch?"

"No. This has been in the running for about... two weeks now."

"Two weeks?" Percy nearly leaps out of his chair. "Two weeks? There's a huge unprecedented change in my work environment and none of my staff nor do any of my closest companions there bother telling me? Did Reyna get promoted?"

"Demoted, rather," Athena says.

"For what? Because we went two minutes over the runtime on agricultural pesticides?"

"No."

"Then why is she being demoted? She's an amazing producer!"

"Part of it is her decision, but most of it is Ares and I's combined executive powers..." Athena trails off. "And, also, Reyna is still sticking around with the eight o'clock hour as an assistant to the new EP who'll be joining you."

"And who will that person be?"

"I don't know yet, Ares hasn't made the final decision." Athena keeps the lie through her teeth and once she utters it, her entire being wishes it can be taken back. There's been a decision, a decision Percy sure as fuck isn't going to like, but that's the world of show business and there's no way around that. Athena just hopes that the bomb diffusion squad has no need of being called in.

"When will I find out?"

"Probably tomorrow."

"Have you met any of them? Or their names?"

"No."

"Are you lying to me?" Percy asks.

"Why do you think I'd have any reason to lie to you?" Athena bats her eyelashes at Percy in a completely, one hundred percent sympathetic and confused look. He sighs, muffling his breath against the table. She tries for another tactic. "Most of the staff you have is staying, while Reyna is moving down to the ten o'clock hour. The last EP had a nervous breakdown and she near about killed herself from a broadcast a few weeks ago."

"Who's taken over the spot while she's out?"

"Reyna," Athena answers. "She's quite the go-getter, and everything there has been quite good. Ratings nearly almost match ours at the eight o'clock hour, which I say is damn near unprecedented. Not many people watch the news that late, but for some reason her programming and charge has been doing quite well."

"Who's the anchor?"

"Thalia, like usual."

That warms Percy's heart momentarily. Thalia Grace, being the lovable punk rocker that she is - well, Percy thinks she's a punk rocker, but probably just troubled somewhere along the lines - can stare down a camera and make the audience member on the other side feel as if they're being savagely attacked. With her makeup done to make her look like some fictional character, and stylish dark onyx hair riddled in with some blue violet stripes, the rebel without a cause direction makes viewers want to tune into her. Ares, the head of ONN, meaning he owns the company, isn't as such a stickler with dress code as he is what gets said on their air.

"I'm glad for her," Percy agrees. "But isn't Reyna stepping down a notch really what she wants?"

"She doesn't have a choice," Athena offers lamely, shrugging. "I know she's met your new EP so the transition can be smooth as possible, but she's sworn to secrecy from Ares on who that candidate actually is. From what I've heard, although discreetly, Reyna is in love."

"Reyna doesn't like too many people. Except maybe Travis."

"They're dating, so I expect she'd like him."

Percy leans back in his chair. "I want to talk to her about it tomorrow. Can I do that?"

"Who am I to stop you?" Athena says.

"I just feel so upset over this, and I don't know why," he muses, rubbing his chin. "What can I do to convince Reyna to stay where she's at and then I'll have that new EP be convinced to switch over to ten?"

Athena, to all her credit, keeps her mouth shut so the cackle cannot release from her throat. The look on Percy's face is to be incredulous as she can see it now, and lets the shock mull over later in time. She grasps Percy's outstretched hand, squeezing it for comfort. He smiles at her and she smiles at him, and for that precious second, where everything is frozen in time, doused in an amber glow, the two feel as if they can conquer the world. Athena Dimitri has seen many people come and go in her time as the head of the news division, she's seen hotshot producers and anchors that feel as if they can beat the Armageddon and then their egos drag them down to a pit they cannot escape.

She's unable to remember the last time she's viewed an eight o'clock broadcast with Percy leading that's been impressed with. While Percy Jackson himself is quite credible and makes a good show, he hasn't done one where's he's been on the ball for all sixty seconds with every single minute of the hour, where now the man is coasting and Athena no longer is desiring a show to be about coasting.

"I'll see if Reyna can squeeze some time into her day by calling her tonight," Athena says, and she lets go of Percy's hand.

"Sounds good to me," Percy nods, grinning like a little schoolboy again.

Athena grabs a menu that she had left by her side for several minutes of their conversation. "Now," she proclaims, patting the menu against the table. "Let's eat! What were you thinking of having? The shrimp scampi sounds divine, but so does that portabella..."

Percy Jackson P.O.V

It's nearing noon the next day and Percy is standing in the lobby of the main newsroom waiting for Athena to show up. Technically he's not in the lobby, but rather the hallway with all the elevators that go ding whenever someone arrives on the floor, and since it is a breaking news type of room, there's way too many people to count strolling in and out of those doors. Percy hears the sound of the elevator so much that it goes off in his sleep, or it resonates like a ringing doorbell and he panics by wondering where the nearest camera and mike pack is.

He takes about an hour last night from strolling around his apartment to even taking three cold showers at trying to gauge a response for what he's going to say to Reyna in about five minutes. Though he's heard the basics of what the entire situation practically encompasses, he feels that it'll be easier to swallow by hearing it face-to-face than from a second source who he partly trusts. "You only partly trust Athena?" his mind whispers this to him and then he feels a cold chill slide up his arms and down his spine.

The elevator doors open and out walks Athena, dressed this time in a sleek running outfit, polyester neon green clinging to her frame. She's out of breath, sweat coating her forehead, and Percy looks at her bewildered.

"Who's the one that's late now?" he jests, crossing his arms.

"Can it," Athena gets out, hands on her knees as she slowly breaths in and catches up with the tiresome exercise.

Percy gives her a look over. "Were you hit by a sudden rainstorm on the way here?"

"I was running," she exhales, showing him her Fit Bit wrapped around her right wrist, and he reads that she's ran a total of near 2000 steps. "All around the block and up many flights of stairs. God, I'm winded."

"Did you let Reyna know I wanted to speak with her?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

"And have you planned what you're going to say to her?" Athena looks at up at Percy, her eyes devoid of any emotion, for she knows that there'll either be the train wreck Percy Jackson who's overcome by emotion, or the bold and fearless Percy Jackson who puts problems behind him.

He locks his jaw, not necessarily a good sign. "I thought about it, and thought about it some more to where now I feel quite angry."

Athena sighs, head dropping to the floor. She can feel the pain surmounting in her bones already and no one has spoken a single word. This'll either be quite fun or a disaster depending on how Reyna makes it out to be, and she - Athena - knows of Reyna Arellano's fiery temper. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Are you ready?"

"I'll never be ready, but I suppose there's not much I can say to change your mind."

He gives her a hand and the two stand up. Athena runs a hand through her ponytail, unfurling the knots, and wiping at her brow once more. Percy walks into the main newsroom, nothing larger than perhaps the main size of a high school cafeteria, with desks spotted throughout that are covered with computers and other gizmo junk. He notices that the office seems particularly empty, but everyone is on their lunch break so it seems that the ghost town won't remain one for long. Across the middle stretch from the hallway to the elevator doors is Reyna's office, clearly shown by the Roman symbols decorating her door, and Percy doesn't quite understand why she has some sort of fondness with that area, but it doesn't bother him too much.

Athena sees that Reyna is sitting at her desk, and someone leaning up against a bookcase inside as well, and her heart thumps against her chest. Thalia is up against the bookcase, arms hidden away in the jacket she's wearing, and she can feel that Percy will make everything one giant mess.

"Do me a favor?" she pipes up.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Try not to make a scene..." Athena pleads.

Percy takes about two seconds where he hesitates to knock, but lets his uncouth behavior speak for itself. He barges into Reyna's office. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me!" he exclaims, and Athena's world collapses. She lets out a long breath of disappointment, and follows him into Reyna's office. So much for not making a scene. Even the interns three floors up probably heard his screech. Percy then slams the office door shut, brow pent up together in frustration.

Reyna balks in her chair, mahogany hair resting against her left shoulder, pencil up by her right ear. "Excuse me?"

Thalia, doused in all black, purses her lips. "Should I- should I leave?"

"Stay," Percy demands.

"Okay then..."

He directs his attention back to the EP, and Athena can see the fire in the man's eyes, like coursing rage that consumes all around him. "Why didn't you tell me?" Percy demands again.

Reyna tosses a glance between Percy and Athena, and then a second run around the block, before nodding, understanding the situation. "Ah... you mean why I'm moving to ten o'clock."

"Yeah! I am!"

She gives a hapless shrug. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Perce. Ares told me that he thinks I need a change and that doing something with a smaller staff to control will help me."

"So you don't bother consulting me on this?"

"It's not like there was anything to consult to you about. Ares and Athena have been away looking for a replacement. A replacement that will probably do my job ten times better than I do."

"I highly doubt that," Percy says.

"Well don't," Reyna snaps back. "Take it for what it is. Ares thought that we have to spice things up a bit. I already offered to fill in at the ten o'clock spot as it is. If I do a good enough job, he'll keep me there. I'm not gonna run two news hours in one day, that's just way too much."

"Doesn't that feel like a demotion to you?"

"It's not like I get paid that much."

"Enough to buy Camaros every year," Thalia whistles from her spot, smirking.

"Who's side are you on?" Reyna asks her friend, disbelief registering on her face. She shakes her head. "Anyways, point being, it doesn't bother me if I have to move. Problem is, we just can't move you. No one out there watching out show have any idea I'm the one producing it. You're the face of Primetime Hour. I'm not. Besides, journalism is journalism and there's nothing you can say to make me walk up to Ares's office and demand that we stop the switch."

Percy looks crestfallen, throwing his hands up in the air. "You just shut me down in about two seconds..."

Reyna smirks. "Were you just gonna barge in here, demand an answer, and swear at me so I could stay?"

Athena takes this one, smiling jubilantly. "On the money!"

The executive producer leans forward, hands folded on her desk. "Look, Percy, I'm not upset at you over last night. It just so happens to be my last broadcast with the affable Percy Jackson ended in well-rooted disaster. Thalia doesn't let anything get to her."

"Well that's because you only have cravens on your air," Percy throws off the blame, feeling as if bugs were festering up and down his arms.

This peaks Thalia's interest, the woman sitting up and letting her slightly open mouth and quite pissed off facial expression do the talking. She bites down on her lower lip, eyes flashing at Percy's like a lioness to an antelope. "Are you suggesting that I can't handle 'extreme guests', as to whatever that may mean?"

"No, I misspoke and-"

"Because, if you recall, I had to deal with, the one time I took over your show because of that accidental breaking of your leg from two months ago, the professor from Harvard who taught ethics, and called me on our air, 'a fucking whore who deserves to burn in hell for all my cleavage'... yeah... I made sure he ran back to that college with his tail between his legs."

Athena jumps in between the trio, the tension in the room coming to a boil where bubbles were to rise and pop on the ceiling fans. Percy slackens his jaw, and puts his hands in his pocket, plopping down in an empty chair in the other corner of the room. Reyna sits back, feeling more relaxed after the sudden rise in apprehension. Everyone but Thalia takes a step back to recuperate, and she's ready for round two, win everything or lose all.

Percy takes his hands out of his pockets and rubs his face. "I'm sorry..." he apologizes. "To both of you," he adds, when he realizes that the statement is unpredictable at to whether it is directed to Reyna or Thalia.

"It's okay," Reyna assures him, smiling.

Thalia gives a quick grin, showing that in actual technicality she isn't offended as to what she was letting him go off of. "It's okay. Just don't let it happen again, buster," she japes, and then Thalia stands up straighter from her position, pats Percy on the shoulder, nods at Athena, and bustles out of the office.

The executive producer of the trio cocks her head to the side and gives a nervous stutter. "Did she just walk out of my office without saying goodbye to me?"

"Looks like it!" Athena claps her hands together with a smile. "I'll leave you to it. Percy," she directs her gaze at the anchor, who flinches under her expertly distanced and cold stare. "Be gentle. You came in like a roaring lion and now you need to lead it back in. Okay? Good. I'll be in my office up on the fifth floor if you need anything."

Percy watches her go, and feels a stinging in his heart to call out after her and beg that Athena Dimitri does not leave his line of sight, as he's confident in her being the only true friend in the entire division, whereas he's friendly with the woman sitting in front of him but generally not on the same level of relatedness and let alone talking about the certain levels of comfort. He looks at Reyna with curiosity. Percy remembers the first day he met her. He's her boss, as the anchor has the privilege - he's unsure whether or not this is genuine privilege or not because it does have the typical viewpoint of business quite skewered - to fire their executive producer if the clean and tight money ship is not being run the way they want it run. All stories go by the anchor before being put on air unless it is the most serious of breaking news. It's a freezing December day in New York and Reyna Arellano stumbles in after being fired from some magazine company down the street for writing an article ousting the head owner of said magazine. Percy asks the reason as to why she wrote such a slandering post and Reyna says, in her own words, "The man tried seven times to grope me in an office meeting. He threatened me that if I didn't write specific articles, he'd fuck me in my sleep. So I wrote the article that very moment after calling him a womanizer and a threat to genuine guys everywhere."

He hires her on the simplicity that she's honest and wouldn't take shit from anyone. So now he's watching through the looking glass that this seems like an odd turn of events.

The anchor leans forward. "Am I not as likable as Thalia?"

Reyna looks affronted, her left hand which had previously been tapping against it suddenly ceasing as the corners of her mouth lifted up. "Of course not," she clears her throat. "Percy, looking at the numbers, viewers say constantly that your charm and warmness you exude brings them to watch in droves. Droves! That sounds like a likable guy to me."

"I meant personally." Percy doesn't bat an eye. "Do you like her more than me?"

She purses her lips, licking her lower lip. "Thalia definitely challenges me more. She fights me tooth and nail when I jump in on stories I'd like to push forward. There's nothing wrong with that. However, unlike you, she isn't the most approaching and takes quite a lot of her criticism to heart."

"So do I."

"You don't get criticized nearly as much as her."

"She got called a whore on air. Once."

"And you were called a disgusting man who deserves to burn in hell," Reyna haplessly shrugs. "I don't see a difference," her eyes brighten. "She also isn't as handsome as you."

"Handsome?" Percy lifts an eyebrow up.

"You know what I mean."

Percy shakes his head. "No, please, divulge more Miss Arellano. I'm interested in hearing what you think is attractive about me."

"You can be quite vain," Reyna clenches her teeth. "But then again nearly all anchors are."

"Which ones aren't?"

"The ones who are ugly and the only thing they've got going for them is how they speak. Why do you think I got to where I am?"

"You don't find yourself attractive?"

"Why, you find me pretty?" Reyna points the finger at herself, stuttering a half nervous laugh.

Percy ganders the thought. "Prettier than Thalia at the very least, and she's on camera."

"Well, the reason why I got to where I am is because I am damn good at caring about the news and making sure people get caught for their mistakes," Reyna leans back in her chair, which almost careens over. She steadies herself and wipes hair out of her face, and when Reyna's vision clears, Percy is smiling and for a minute, her heart soars. She hates to kick the puppy when it's down.

He wants a day like that again, the one from all those December's ago. He's never met another human being with more spunk than what Reyna's got, and he finds that hard to replicate in this day and age. The only person who is sort of like her - Percy breaks off the thought with a growl, he isn't thinking of him again, not two days in a row - actually, he doesn't want to continue that train to anywhere else but a cliffside. Reyna's gaze is soft and gentle with him.

"I'm going to miss you. I don't want you to go."

"That's why I'm helping the new EP for the next two weeks or so keep things steady. But, personally, I think they'll be fine," Reyna scratches at her nose. "Besides, the main, main reason as if there's more than one vital importance to it all is that everyone on the eight o'clock hour likes me. Primetime Hour works well with a staff who actually gets along, but that may or may not be the reason to how we translate great work into great news. And with me moving, I'll get two families, get paid twice as much for working twice as many hours. Genius plan!" she claps her hands together, but Percy snickers.

"I've loved working with you."

"And me to you," Reyna agrees.

Percy crosses his arms. "But you really do find me attractive?"

She laughs nervously. "Am I not allowed to?"

"No, not at all. I just didn't think that-"

"Well, you being bisexual does nothing to persuade me to dislike you," Reyna corrects, and then she snaps a finger at him. "And don't you dare call it some sort of perversion, or I'll kick you so hard in the groin you'll be feeling it till the end of fucking next week."

He yields his hands up. "I get it, I get it."

"You've got the looks, and the charm. The professional quality you give off. The work ethnic. I mean, fuck Percy, I could list them all off if you'd like."

"That'd be nice," Percy grins.

Reyna sits up in her seat, hands folded together, arms on the table. Percy takes this time to notice just exactly how small her office is, and for being one of fourteen executive producers in the entire floor, and with that also making her the most successful hour of the fourteen, her room is dismal. She follows his eye momentarily before frowning. "If the EP you're getting isn't smitten with you in about five seconds flat, then I'll think they're crazy."

"They just might not be gay," he reasons.

"And who says they aren't?"

Percy looks taken aback if the blush settling on his cheeks isn't enough to give it away. "What? They're... they're-"

"I was confided in," Reyna smirks. "That probably makes you insanely jealous. But... yeah. He's gay, and doesn't want that to affect how you work with him."

"Why would that-"

"Sudden groping attacks in the hallway or between meetings?" she raises an eyebrow expertly at her, smiling.

His face reflects that of the emotion of hurt, curled in mouth, eyebrows furrowed together, and frown lines creasing all over his pale face. "I'm not like that."

"Did I say you were?"

"No."

"Then you aren't one!" Reyna stands up from her seat, grabbing the light jacket draped across the back of her chair, heading for the door.

Percy stands with her, and places a hand on it before she can get out of the room and leave him for good. "Where you going?"

"I'm going to meet Travis on their lunch break," she answers. Reyna starts to go, but he stops her. "What?"

He looks her straight in the eye, all seriousness, and blurts, "Is he really good looking?"

She shakes her head, looking up at the ceiling. Nothing's changed, and Reyna is really fucking happy that the Percy Jackson she's gotten to know and love will never change. Though some of that on the horizon makes things seem quite hazy, as the new EP can be a person off their meds, it means that Reyna can stay on the project for two weeks and not feel unwanted, but that the family she's forged will stay together even after she left.

Reyna pushes the door open and begins to walk into the middle of the newsroom. Percy hangs his head down at the lack of response, probably in some shape or form ticking her off in a way only he knows how to. She turns back, all the way across the room by the elevators. "Fucking gorgeous beyond your wildest dreams!" Reyna screams back. Not just yells it, but she screams it.

Percy flushes a bright and embarrassing scarlet.

He supposes that that's that.

Travis Stoll P.O.V

Somewhere around a week ago, Travis Stoll wonders where the hell did he end up getting so lucky. It catches up to him late one evening where Titanic is blaring in his apartment speakers because his roommate has some greasy, sleazy man over and he's not getting involved with trying to break that disaster up before its even set sail. He makes ship wreck jokes and he doesn't even know it half the time. That's the amount of attention Travis gives to his apparent sense of humor is humorous to outsiders, but he's unable to pinpoint what makes him so funny.

Across from him, his girlfriend of seven months, Reyna, is clacking away at her phone between sips of her lemonade and spooning in a bite of creamy penne pasta. He sits there and occasionally slurps out the filling of an oyster shell, the plate decked out with seaweed and lotus flowers, and it takes him a matter of two seconds to realize how odd it is that a restaurant would serve pasta and oysters in the fashion that both plates are served in like that, on a menu, together. Travis has his hands in his lap, finding himself fiddling with a napkin by tearing pieces of it off and folding them into origami squirrels or a kite that has no leverage and sinks into his iced tea.

The day is bright and gorgeous outside, but Travis feels upset that he spends it early ten hours a day cramped up in an office on the fourth floor, running around with his head almost chopped off like a chicken, but it hits him that this is what being a journalist is all about and there shouldn't be any remorse in him at all. He stirs the iced tea around, watching the bubbles fizz and pop like firecrackers till he gets bored of it. Travis bounces his wrist up against the corner of the table, and Reyna flashes up a look at him. He stops what he's doing to stare at her eyes, where even when she's pissed and wants to rip his head off, she looks ethereal in every sense of the word. Yes, Travis Stoll knows how horribly romantic and cliché he is, but it's never stopped him from getting laid, so he might as well reap the benefits.

"What are you doing?" Reyna asks, slightly annoyed.

"Fiddling," he responds coolly. "Because you aren't talking to me, but jamming away on your Blackberry."

"Work is work," she answers and goes back to texting away. "It'll only be a few more minutes."

"We only have a few minutes left to talk and eat before we have to go back."

"Then I suppose we can chat on the walk."

Travis locks his jaw and looks out the window. Part of Reyna's work ethic has always bothered him, in the sense that he feels horribly immature about the entire situation and should give up with such childish feelings, but the wanting to have a meaningful time with his girlfriend out on their hour lunch break is hardly enough time to feel fulfilled to even the slightest degree. He thinks of bringing it up to Percy, but his electric emerald gaze roots him in his place, and for the moment of looking the anchor in the eye has him feeling slightly tight around the beltline, but it's nothing.

He looks at his girlfriend and there's an odd disturbance in the air. Her shoulders are tensed, arms at her sides than the usual wide spread eagle resemblance she does at dinner, Reyna's brow scrunched up. He grabs her free hand, and she stirs. "What's wrong? I can tell you're bothered."

"Just work."

"Is it?"

Reyna sighs, putting down the phone. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you to talk to me. Like a boyfriend and girlfriend should." Travis wants to drive that point home till it rivets deep in her skull, that when they lay awake at night later with the sheets bunched up at their feet and the ceiling fans swinging above with a lazy, dull drone, she'll remember that she has a boyfriend and not just some sort of fuck buddy with strings attached that makes Travis feel like he's being compared to Pinocchio.

She rubs her face. "Percy came into my office about half an hour ago, all in a tizzy about how he found out I'll be switching hours. Said a few curse words, somehow managed to piss Thalia off even though she's the most easy going person in the whole fucking world and then made me feel crappy so-"

"You're bullshitting," he cuts in. Reyna clucks her tongue, so Travis reels in the fishing line. "While there is truth in the events happening, that's not what's upsetting you."

Reyna looks off out the window, and like her boyfriend, sees the way the sunlight glimmers off the high rise buildings and their glassed windows and walls, and all she wants to do is run through a daisy field arm and arm with him so the only thing prettier and more stunning than the nature surrounding her is Travis. "Percy wants me to stay. And now I feel like I do want to stay as well."

Travis's face creases into worry. "Well... now it's kinda too late to change your mind. The new EP arrives today."

"Maybe I could convince-"

"That won't happen. He won't buy it. He's been dying to work with Percy for years now."

"Yeah, you're one hundred percent right," Reyna bites on her tongue. A cheeky grin places itself on her face, and she leans in forward to tickle his nose. "So, what's the latest in your crush on Percy?"

Travis blushes every known color of the rainbow and then some. "I do not have a crush on Percy."

"Come on! Who's the liar now?" Reyna throws her hands up in the air. "You totally think he's hot."

"Well that's because he is," Travis agrees, but his face is stern whereas his girlfriend is falling apart, doubling over the table with laughter. "But I'm attached! To a equally beautiful woman who is just as likable as him and just as good at reporting the news as he is telling it to the cameras and audiences everywhere. It's just a phase."

"You seeing if you're also interested in men?" Reyna raises an eyebrow, not buying it.

"Hard to believe, I know, but-"

"It is as evident as if the sky is blue, Travis! I see your eyes slowly follow Jason, Will, Leo, and Frank around like a lost puppy, because I know you're looking at their asses. And they do have nice butts but-"

Travis wants to crawl into a hole and die. "Yes, Reyna?"

"Can you leave the 'wanting to experiment on men' thing till after you and I possibly break up?" she asks him, her eyes softening and widening so he can feel quite shitty about himself later when they do crawl back into bed later. "Like them all you want, think they're sexy all you want, but it's quite distracting and hurtful to be standing right next to you and have Jason race by with an initiative and you look at him as if he's some sort of meal," Reyna locks her jaw. "Though he is fucking gorgeous, I'll give you that."

"Am I free to say how confused I am?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Reyna, I'm confused. Are you saying it's okay to see if men interest me or are you saying I should somehow find you and other attractive at the same time?"

"Answer me and I'll answer you," she offers, sitting up.

"Shoot."

"Who do you think about after we fuck?"

Travis, who goes to take a sip of iced tea, nearly chokes on the straw that pokes against the back of his throat up near the upper portion of his jaw. Tea sputters everywhere, and an ice cube flays out onto the table. He steadies himself against it, the air coming out of his nose rather than his lungs as the oysters bounce with every cough. "Ex- excuse me?" She's not kidding, and he can tell, and that scares him. "Of course I think of you! I'm thinking of how fucking awesome that was and how lucky I am to be with someone like you every day until I get reminded you can be a bit of a pain in the ass, and then I fall back in love with you because you're Reyna fucking Ramirez-Arellano and that's something to be proud of you!"

The conversation begins, actually a year ago when Travis gets the time out of his day to stand next to Reyna in the control room, watching Percy perform his magic. She leans over into his ear during a commercial break and whispers that he, that being Travis, is not the most subtle of the bunch. Travis, being the general deflector for embarrassing arguments or reveals, sputters like he did with the water, and goes to scheming at some controls.

"Subtle about what?"

"You think Percy's good looking."

"Is that wrong?"

"No. Just don't let him hear that. He's got a boyfriend, you know."

"And he's ten years older than me!"

It turns into where Reyna suggests that Travis goes to a bar, gets hammered, and calls one of his gay or bisexual friends' numbers and see where it goes. He shares a one-night stand with someone that he is no longer friends with - probably because of that one-night stand - and gives up on seeing if he likes men. It isn't until he and Reyna give a good one on Valentine's Day that she brings it up and asks how did the gay life go. He responds that it's not for him, and she softly alludes to the fact that it is because Travis Stoll simply has not gotten off on the right foot.

"Are you bisexual?"

"Why? Are you bisexual?"

"Fuck no. Women do as much to me romantically as Mrs. Claus does for Mr. Claus."

"Is that a reference I'm not getting?"

"You gave up and did the wrong thing. It got you off on the wrong foot when you first tried."

"I was following your advice!"

"I may have been three quarters of the way into a bottle of vodka that night."

"What? You didn't bother telling me that?"

"Didn't seem important at the time."

And now, Travis feels that Reyna brings up his constant supplication to liking to check out guys in every way possible, via phone call or text message or even in person so she can remember the tinge of coral pink blossoming on his cheeks. However, she still wraps her hand around his and kisses him hard after every work shift on how much she loves him, and that even if he somehow picks up some man to fuck while they're together, she'll kick him between the legs and smile saying at least he gave it an effort. Reyna isn't the greatest at Dating 101.

He's stuck in a world of confusion where facts blend together, and all Travis has to do is look into Reyna's eye and his Titanic like ship shall plot it's course correctly once again.

"I'll stop," Travis promises. "For you."

"Thank you," Reyna blinks a few seconds later, still registering his response.

"What are you going to do about the new EP? I heard a rumor that he arrives today."

"That he does."

"You like him, don't you?"

"A little," Reyna admits, and she downs the rest of her lemonade, scooping the rest of her pasta up on a fork and swallowing the morsel till the last creamy drop of alfredo sauce vanishes like an afterthought or missed phone call. The light falls on her and Travis is starstruck. She catches him staring with the goofball look, one that has eyes crossing some, mouth hung open like he's seen the most decadent piece of cake in existence. "What?"

Travis giggles and doesn't feel remotely ashamed that a grown twenty-eight year-old man that he is actually giggled in fucking public. "You don't even know how pretty you are."

"You remind me every day."

"It's my job. And also because I believe it."

"Uh-huh," Reyna nods her head.

"Let me guess," Travis runs a hand along his pant leg to wipe off the condensation. "Percy called you pretty in trying to keep you to stay and you denounced all claims to being beautiful."

"You read me like a book."

"Takes one to know one," he takes a sip of the iced tea.

Reyna furrows her eyebrows. "I don't think that analogy works, but whatever floats your boat."

He looks down at his phone which is resting in the empty seat next to him, and stands up. Rummaging in his back pocket, he puts two twenties down on the table, giving their waiter an expensive and lovely tip of fifteen dollars on technically only twenty-five. Giving Reyna his arm, she happily takes it and the two stroll out into the sunlit afternoon on a gorgeous Tuesday.

Travis's gaze passes from McDonalds ads to the sleek and brand new painted mailbox jutting out a few inches farther than normal on the sidewalk, which Reyna still trips over even though he warns her to watch out on where she's going. Qualities like that make him smile, and he presses a kiss to her temple. It puzzles him as to why he even finds men attractive when he still hasn't seen one with the character or downright true beauty inside Reyna's heart, and if only his girlfriend actually could swallow her humility and admit how drop dead fucking gorgeous she is. Even on her bad days, and Travis has seen plenty of her bad days.

Reyna points out a few oddly looking clouds above the buildings, and he laughs alongside her. Travis once again wonders how he got so lucky with the woman he's got, in the position that he has as being Percy's assistant producer without ever asking for a promotion, and that he's just tasted ten dollars worth of the best fucking oysters in the world from a not even seafood restaurant. Travis hooks harder still on Reyna's arm looped with his, and in this time he wants to take a picture of himself somehow, as if he'd be able to separate from his true body and float around like an angel of sorts to snapshot the perfect moment.

He can see it now. Her hair is blowing in the wind, covering her face slightly where the glint of her eyes ferociously illuminates out of the wave of mahogany, and he's expressive in a hearty chortle that has both of them crying. There's a future between them, Travis feels, and that future is gorgeous. Twins swinging from modeled tire swing attached to the sturdiest tree branch, a daisy dress clinging to the girl while the boy feels to sit there exposed and naked, but Travis has found absolute beauty in his son.

It's a future full of sunny mornings and starry night skies, where the pills are paid and Reyna somehow is a fucking Victoria's Secret model with lingerie more expensive than their entire house and the acreage surrounding it. It's a future that seems wonderful.

If only Travis fucking Stoll wasn't so shit scared to reach out and seize it.

Athena Dimitri P.O.V

Her office is hot as blazes, but Athena loves her newspaper so much that it seems like calling the front desk secretary to turn down the AC is too much to ask. She's liked reading the paper even if her business deals with putting it on one of several of the screens behind her. It's nearing three in the afternoon and Athena still hasn't drawn back the curtains to let the light in, despite the fact it'll be gone in only a few hours. By that time, when the sun goes down, her claws go out and she'd be damned that having such a feisty spirit hasn't made her president of the news division at Olympian.

She flips the page and then looks at the heading of the article. Athena reads it aloud because of the absolute idiocy in it. "Cows poop more if you don't feed them..." Athena mutters, and then she looks up. The paper is thrown into the garbage can seconds after, and the ding it makes in the metal can is more satisfying than opening a fresh bottle or can of Coca-Cola. She knows how satisfying that soda is from all her hot summer days as a lifeguard before snagging an amazing news deal with her minor turned major in journalism.

Athena mulls over the conversation she had with Percy from the night before. Half of her hates for lying, but the other half is relieved that the crisis revolving inside the storm can be is averted only ten hours later, and then the jubilance is gone as she's realized what a huge fucking mistake she's made. She snaps her fingers and can only pray that the EP arrives before Percy storms into her office, as it's coming and she can feel it. Percy has a habit of thinking about things later than the present time on situations that majorly concern him till it's too late. Often this means running into Athena's office unannounced by racing past the secretary and then demanding such and such.

However, and it clicks inside her head that today has not been her day, that she's practically opened the door for him to stroll right in by saying she'll be up in her office anytime he wishes to speak with her. Athena closes her eyes, and though she isn't that quite religious, gives a Hail Mary, and then lets that segue into the Lord's Prayer because there's only so many seconds in a day.

While she hopes that the gods and creators at be can spare her the death of being executed by Percy's hand, Athena lets her time be spent looking at her office. There's a picture of her ex-husband on her desk, and she wonders why she still has it there, but it's been years, years and years since she's last looked around and that means there is an update in order. Her ex-husband's glasses are completely 80's style in the photo, in which it makes her laugh unlike the reasonably mature and stalwart fifty year-old she is. Forty-nine technically, but Athena Dimitri feels like she's fifty and that she skin will start to sag off her bones. She'll kill herself before she begins looking like Jeanne Aurth. Athena frowns. Is Jeanne even alive? She has no idea. Athena Dimitri isn't a tennis player.

Elsewhere around the room up against the back wall is a framed piece of notebook paper, but from a special notebook with fancy writing at the top that is headed Best Newscasts of all Time, but the cincher is that this is only the broadcasts under her time as captain of the ship, and it being helmed primarily by Percy. Athena gets up from her seat, which is quite the pain for her as she loves that seat because it can spin ten times in a row without being interrupted. Her hands graze over the frame, reading the dates. There's only two newscasts on the entire picture, which makes Athena laugh, because she wonders how drunk she must've been to get a half torn piece of notebook paper fucking framed.

The dates read August 9th, 2003, and November 7th, 2008. Athena knows what those days mean in some sort of significance, but she lets her mind wander off onto other things. She dreamily looks everywhere else and is so caught up in the happy thoughts - think happy thoughts, that's what mother tells her children so they don't go on shooting sprees - that she doesn't notice nor register the presence of Percy walking into her office and knocking a knuckle against the door that is thrown wide open.

She jumps, swiveling around on her heel. Percy leaps in the air with her, surprised by her reaction. Athena exhales heavily and scuttles back to her chair, sinking down into it. Percy smirks at her, hands in his pant pockets.

"What were you doing?"

"Reminiscing about the past," Athena points. "I put there all the broadcasts that you've ever had that I've ever truly loved on a piece of notebook paper and apparently I got it framed. Why? Who knows."

He walks over to it, whistling Yankee Doodle as he moves, which Athena pinpoints by the certain highs and lows of a few sharp twangs by the air hiss between his teeth and clenched lips. Percy looks at it. "I recognize the second date being the day President Barack Obama was elected, but the other? Not familiar."

"Your first broadcast," she says, standing back up. Athena runs a hand across her desk, a fine feel of oak wood and black marker indentions gone so deep a small puddle could be placed in it. "August 9th, 2003. You walk in and get offered the spot by Ares because he has immense faith in you. I feel seventeen years younger and you're only twenty-two. Youngest anchor in our history to ever go on air. I can't remember if you're the youngest anchor in history of all news stations, actually. I'll double check that. And you give a knock out performance on nothing all too major. A boy accidentally sees a congressman having an affair on his morning paper route, a new frog in the Amazon is discovered, and we find out that comets really are out of this world." She ends that sentence with a smirk, resting to sit back against the front of her desk.

Percy looks back at Athena with amazement in his eyes. "How would you remember all that?"

"Because it's a priceless time for both of us. A kickass time for both of us," she exclaims happily. "I got a pay raise."

"And I ended that half year making a near quarter of a million dollars. Way better salary than the internship the year before that."

"What did you come up here for" Athena asks. She very well knows the answer, and she very well can lead Percy Jackson on a wild goose chase if she wants, but this isn't her time and this isn't what she likes doing anymore because it really doesn't feel like her to lie and lead people on wild goose chases. There's fun in it, her words will go against her if put under a court of law with a stern looking judge demanding an oath, but what Percy doesn't know won't hurt him.

If only that was ever true.

Percy looks at Athena, lost for a bit on what he wanted to talk about. His eyes dance upwards at the ceiling as he's thinking, and thinking some more, and then it hits him. "Yesterday and earlier in Reyna's office, you never told me who the name of the EP is. Or that Ares decided if he'll be it."

"Oh, don't worry, Ares agreed to the match at midnight, and he made sure to call me three hours later in letting me know. I eagerly responded that this'll be the best era of Olympian News since it's creation, but he tells me to not let my hopes up. Apparently that has hurt me way too many times at this company, but I digress through and through."

"Who is it then?"

"Oath of secrecy. Lips are sealed."

"Come on..." Percy whines.

Athena raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Wait... I've made you whine this early into the conversation? God, I'm on fire today. Give me twenty bucks."

"Why?"

"Because I bet against myself that I'd make you feel like a little child who doesn't know what's going on after his parents have sex... but my wallet is all the way over by the pictures behind me and I'm feeling lazy. Please?"

"No," Percy refuses, hands going to situate behind his back.

Athena rolls her eyes. "You're never any fun," she teases. "And besides, I already gave way too much away by telling you that your new EP is a he. I may have done some lying down the road here or there, but it was all in good intentions. It still is in good intentions."

"When are they supposed to be arriving?" he asks, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Soon. Drew will let me know when he gets here and he'll be sent right up."

Percy runs a hand through his hair and begins to pace around the room. Athena watches him closely, intently, and she feels a sense of pride in her that she hasn't quite felt until all those days ago when he gives his first broadcast at ONN and the entire building erupts into roaring applause, so the chip on his shoulder rises and rises yet Percy Jackson's ego never does. Athena likes him for his simplicity, though his personality can be a chore to chew around, she quips to anyone who wonders that she has a big stomach. There's a time when everything is going excellent, and he goes on vacation. He comes back with someone new, someone she's never seen before with a pale face and haunting diamond eyes that would even chill the scariest and meanest of ghosts. A sense of dread and death surrounds the fellow, Percy kisses him, and soon the office knows that their star studded anchor is so gay that not even the Pope can do anything about it.

All of it shatters a few years later, 2013 in fact, and Percy's stuck on the side of the road with a soaking twenty dollar bill. Athena picks him up via a taxi with the brand new umbrella she's bought from Marshalls, because it's inexpensive and cute and everything that makes her mid-forties womanly emotions snatch up in seconds. His hair sticks to his forehead like the foreboding darkness of the Mariana Trench, with wide forest eyes that scream of desperation and hurt, and Athena promises that she'll slit the man's fucking throat if Percy's ever crossed again, but here she is and has gone done slit her throat accidentally by doing this.

She finds that she's unable to look Percy in the eye the longer she dwells on it.

"Is there anything, absolutely anything you can tell me about my new sidekick?" Percy asks.

Athena lets out a long sigh. "You know who you're working with. Once you hear the name and see the face, you'll know who it is."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing."

"Depends on the person I'd take it."

He begins to pace once again, gears in the head whirring away in spry confusion. "Good meaning I'll jump up and down, kiss the fellow, and not feel ashamed for doing it on public cameras. Bad, I'll push him through the wall so hard that the Great Wall of China will collapse from the shockwave."

"And what if your reaction is to be stunned?"

"How do you mean?" Percy raises an eyebrow.

Athena decides to put her hands in her lap, but even that proves to be a negative sign because she begins to writhe them and that's a sure telltale sign of her nervousness. She just wants God to pick her off now and let the end of her life be this very moment. "Well... a reaction where you're upset that you're happy to see your EP, and that you're also happy you're upset to see your EP..."

He takes a few seconds to digest this, and it clicks, but only a briefness so he can wave his hands back and forth excitedly at her. "What else can you say that may or may not entirely give it away?"

She goes for a gander and understands that her head is going to look really gorgeous sitting on a spike. "You love him."

Percy's eyes widen to the size of saucers, and Athena's glad her skirt is dark and that her underwear is dark so the piss stain slowly starting to creep though is unnoticeable to Percy's eyes. He opens his mouth a little to look at the ceiling in stupefaction, lips mouthing words she cannot read as she's never been good at that sort of thing.

"Please tell me that you aren't telling me my EP is who I think it is. Athena, for the love that all is holy and that I don't get the sudden urge to snap your neck and end this, let it be true that you're one hundred percent fucking bullshitting."

"I wish I could..." she trails off.

"Do my feelings mean anything to you?"

"Of course they do!"

"Then why in the name of holy fucking fuck did you decide to invite him back?" Percy howls.

Athena doesn't have an answer to that, so she goes for an ice breaker that works in most cases, but then again this isn't most cases and from the way he's acting, Percy Jackson is able to probably rip her head off of her body in one quick swipe before answering the question. "When's the last time you saw him?"

"A year ago. A press conference. Nothing more than a curt nod. Earlier than that? Nothing."

She opens her mouth to reply again, and that's when the world really does go to fucking shit and not even Atlas in all his superiority as a Titan can keep it up and afloat, given what happens next.

A body appears on the other side of the glass, unable to see Percy from where they're standing. The body walks in and Athena gets a better glimpse than the last meeting she had when meeting him the first time. Standing in the doorway, frozen between seeing Percy and Athena in media res of their argument, stays stock still which shock registering on their face. The man's face is pale as the brightest moon, haunting diamond eyes unable to decide who to rather look at. His body is lithe and probably far too skinny for someone of normal health proceedings where Athena wouldn't worry.

Scrawny hands with slender fingers poke out underneath the burly jacket. Percy shudders - the hands still cling to his back, wrapped around the front and shifting hard, harder till he breaks over the man's hand and has euphoria clouding the tips of his visional field and the hands transform into talons that scrape - for the memories are close, and the blood roars in his ears and down at his dick.

Standing in the doorway is Nico di Angelo, fresh out of a self made retirement, and Percy's old ex-boyfriend. He gives a half hearted wave to both occupants in the room.

"Hello..." he stutters out nervously.

Athena feels the desperation sink into the soles of her heels.

So this looks like the beginning of the end.

And there we are ladies and gentlemen, Chapter #1: Beginning of the End of my brand new story Primetime Hour.

WOW, can I first say that it has taken me three days to write this chapter and the fact that I actually broke the 15k mark like I wanted has me dying. This is the single longest chapter I've ever written, and the longest prior are only at 10k, and to surpass that by a five thousand word margin is damn amazing to me. I promised that the chapters would be long, and this certainly tells the truth.

How does this look to you? While the Rated M sexual content won't be as shoveled in as much as it was for Nico di Angelo's Guide, it'll be there somewhere given how long I'm taking this road. But first thing first, I am already in love with what has been put here today. Percy and Nico are characters that I'm able to weave and spin where Riordan's masterful creations exist at their core, but around them is layers of what I've built, and I don't think my writing has ever, ever been better.

Athena is going to be perhaps my favorite one to ploy with as I haven't written an Olympian god or goddess in a story since Hades as a villain in the one-shot Ichor (jeez it's dark. Go read it!) and she's got a whole lot of potential ramped up to her. This is an ensemble casted story, focusing mainly on a group of thirteen or fourteen characters, and the main character is to be highlighted by that obvious P.O.V marker. I was told in Nico's Guide that the perspective switches into the characters and their minds were hard to distinguish at times so it's easier by having sections.

We've also been introduced to Reyna and Travis, and while Thalia is there, Reyna and Travis are the main ones in that trio we met to look at. Reyna's spin is interesting as I haven't written her in about three years, so there's that, and I totally didn't realize she had a last name given to us unlike Octavian. I'm also a stickler for rare pairings, so while Nico and Percy is a surefire, Reyna and Travis certainly is a pairing no one suggests, and I decide to run with it. Let me know if it works.

These chapters will probably take me five days to write consecutively where I do a scene a day at around 3k as I do have three other stories to constantly shift between. It's been also another three years since I've written four WIPS at one time and good god it feels crazy and pressuring, but I love it as it makes me want to write downright enjoyable and inspiring content.

Please review and let me know what you thought! If I'm to be honest, as I always am, those that are expecting a pure smut story will be sorely disappointed as this is a plot and character driven piece where the sex, while not an afterthought, won't be like mindless flings, but parts and pieces that matter. Thank you so much for making it this far if you have. I shall have Chapter #2: Best Foot Forward, out sometime in the next three weeks or so with my busy summer schedule coming to an end with school starting soon. Hope to have you all for the long haul. Love you all! Have an amazing day! Bye!

~ Paradigm