A/N: Hello, just thought I'd do a Halloween-themed fic to celebrate my favorite holiday. This one goes to wombat-of-awesomeness, for teaching us all how to play this game.

It was just another day in the lives of Percy and Annabeth Chase, when—

POW!

"HAPPY HALLOWEEN!"

"Alright, who set off the confetti cannon?" yelled Annabeth from the kitchen. She was removing some puff pastries from the oven, walking into the living room with a plateful of semi-burned ham and cheese pastries.

Anyway, it was just ano—

"Travis did it!"

"Connor did it!"

"KNOCK IT OFF, YOU TWO!" screamed Annabeth.

"Wow, she's stressed," said Travis (a werewolf), who was lying across the couch with one arm around Katie (a flower). "Makes sense she's dressed as a devil."

"Oh, cut her some slack, she's five months pregnant!"

Like I was saying, it was jus—

"I'm home!" Percy called from the foyer. "Let's get this party started!"

WOULD YOU LET ME FINISH?!

"Sorry, no," said Percy.

Annabeth came up and pecked him on the cheek. "You're just in time for the festivities!"

"Whoa, look at you in your costume!"

She blushed. "Yeah, for some reason, this was all they had in maternity. Well, actually, no. It was either this or that Bella Cullen…"

Clarisse (possibly a "gangsta") stifled a snicker.

IF YOU WOULD EXCUSE ME FOR ONE MOMENT, I WOULD—

"Shut up, please," said Percy.

SHUT UP YOUR MOTHER! I SWEAR I WILL…

"Right, yeah, whatever," he said. "Hey, Leo, mind switching off that annoying narrator thing? It's driving me nuts."

"My pleasure!"

"THE NARRATOR THING" WOULD LIKE TO SLAP YOU!

"Good luck with that. Anyway, Annabeth, got the party games?"

"Yep," she replied, "but not before you get into your bumblebee costume."

Muttering, Percy made for the bedroom where she had laid out his costume.

"So, Annabeth, what do you have planned for tonight?" asked Piper, who came in a Cherokee dress. Even Clarisse had to admit she looked stunning.

"Well, I was thinking we could play this game…"

"Oh, Mafia?" Percy (now an exceptionally fat bumblebee) said, waddling out in full costume. Everyone in the room was howling with laughter. "I love that game!"

"Yeah, Mafia," said Annabeth, wiping her eyes with a cooking apron that said "KISS THE COOK AND THE COOK WILL SMACK YOU".

"How do you play that?" asked Jason (a Roman gladiator—surprise, surprise).

"Well, it's simple, really," Annabeth began, sitting down in a chair next to Percy. "There are eleven of us here, so we need ten cards from this deck. I'm narrating for the first game." She held up an ordinary deck of cards. "Everyone just gets one. There are four types of cards you can get—Joker, which is the Mafia, King, which is the Detective, Ace, which is the Angel, and any number card is a Civilian. Don't show anyone your card." She passed out one card to each person, except herself.

"There is only one Mafia, Detective, and Angel—the rest are Civilians," she said. "So this is how the game works: the Narrator, me, presents a scenario for the players. At some point during the campout, vacation, sleepover, or whatever it is you choose, everyone has to go to sleep. When the Narrator says, 'Mafia, wake up,' whoever is the Mafia opens their eyes, but doesn't say anything. The Narrator says, 'Mafia, who do you want to kill?' and he or she points to the person. The Mafia goes back to sleep. The Narrator will then say, 'Detective, wake up,' and the Detective opens his or her eyes, and then points to who they believe is the Mafia when the Narrator asks, 'Detective, who do you think is the Mafia?' And…"

Jason looked like he was about to interrupt with a question.

"Shut up until I finish, will you? So, the Narrator will nod if the person is indeed the Mafia, or shake their head if it isn't. Then the Angel will wake up, and similarly point to who it is that they want to 'save'. This means that if the Angel points to the person the Mafia chose to kill, they will not die. The Angel can save himself or herself, but it is incredibly selfish. Just sayin'. The Civilians don't do anything except sit there and look pretty."

Jason brightened considerably.

"So then, everyone wakes up to see if a person is dead. The scenario continues for until the second death, when there is a trial. All the players choose who they believe is the Mafia, and the Mafia will give his or her defense. The people will either choose to keep the person or exile them, meaning they are out of the game. The person will present their card, and if they are the Mafia, the game is over, and if they aren't, it continues. Any questions?"

There seemed to be none. Everyone settled in a comfortable position and waited for Annabeth to begin.

"Ready? Okay. So all of you are, let's say, on a cruise to Tahiti, and…"

"Wait…" said Percy. "Where's Tahiti?"

Annabeth sighed. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. Moving on, you all are having a great time playing shuffleboard and whatever, and gorging yourself on questionable shrimp from the buffet when you decide it's time to head off to bed early. You fall asleep."

All the eyes in the room closed.

"Mafia, wake up."

Hazel's eyes snapped open, darting around nervously.

"Mafia, who do you want to kill? … No, Mafia, you can't kill yourself… No, you can't kill me either, I'm that Narrator…."

She pointed to Frank.

Can't blame you there, sweetheart.

"Shut UP!" screamed everyone in the room.

Fine, fine. Carry on.

"Mafia, go to sleep. Detective, wake up."

Katie opened her eyes and immediately swept the room, searching for suspicious-looking suspects.

"Detective, who is the Mafia?"

She pointed very assuredly at Clarisse. Annabeth shook her head once.

"Detective, go back to sleep. Angel, wake up."

Frank opened his eyes and, without Annabeth having to say anything, pointed to Hazel. Oh, the irony.

"Alright guys, wake up."

Travis, who Annabeth strongly suspected actually fell asleep, stretched and yawned. "So, who kicked it?"

Well, that's very blunt way of putting it.

"What is the deal with that narrator-thing?" demanded Connor.

"No idea…" replied Annabeth.

Excuse me, I am not a narrator-thing, I am the voice of the author—

"Some author we got here," muttered Percy.

—AND THE AUTHOR, MIGHT I ADD, HAS THE POWER TO KILL ALL OF YOU LIKE SOME SORT OF NICO-ANGST FIC!

"What is a fic?" wondered Katie out loud.

IT IS A DEEPLY INTELLECTUAL FORM OF WRITING IN WHICH—

"Yeah, nobody cares," yawned Jason.

"Say, anybody want to grab a pizza?" asked Percy. "This is getting seriously freaky."

"Sounds good to me," said Annabeth.

HEY, YOU CAN'T JUST LEA—

"Watch us, fool," said Travis, making for the door with the rest of the gang.

"Hey…" said Clarisse. "Who died, by the way?"

Annabeth smirked. "Frank."

"And who was the Mafia?"

"Hazel."

Frank's ears turned red.