Over the year that Hazel has worked for the Triumvirate, she had gotten used to a lot of unusual things, such as someone calling her name from the roof, screaming at her to "get over here please-uh" and then jump off the roof when Hazel said "but I'm hungry". What a life she lived.

Lavinia landed in a roll and then hopped up, as if this were a normal thing that people do. "Hi."

"You're insane."

"Thank you. I stole twenty bucks from Octavian, you want shitty takeout?"

Hazel gasped. "Octavian's paying for my lunch? How nice of him. There's a stall that Frank's been raving about, it's seven bucks for a meal and a drink."

Lavinia did not share Hazel's enthusiasm for cheap food. That's when she realized that Lavinia was tapping her fingers, methodically skipping her ring finger and her leg was tapping on the cracked pavement at a fast speed, even for Lavinia. Her smile was tense and didn't reach her eyes, which looked directly at Hazel, but seemed focused on something else.

"You okay?" Hazel asked, her New Orleans accent more pronounced than usual.

"Huh–Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Um, but I do have a question for you?"

"Okay?"

"You go down to the Underworld all the time, right? I mean, you grew up there, so you have to know a lot about the dead people there?"

"That's more of a–"

"–Do you know anything about Emperor Nero? I was looking in the archives earlier and there is nothing there other than a mention but nothing in detail. That mission I was on yesterday we were fighting some cannibal monster and when it talked it said something about him, like the guy was still alive. It's probably nothing, but when Oak was in the infirmary after the mission I went and I found nothing and..." Lavinia sighed. "Sorry, I don't make any sense right now. But, I feel like something is wrong." Hazel played with one of her coils, her own anxiety rising as Lavinia continued. "I mean... is it possible that he escaped?"

"Who was on this mission with you?" Hazel asked, all excitement for the food stall forgotten.

"Some new recruit–Poison Oak."

"What do they think?"

Lavinia looked up as the sky darkened. "I haven't gotten the chance to ask, they've been with Solace all morning, but I think they get out later today."

The coil bounced back up, and Hazel's heart rate skyrocketed. She gazed up at the cloudy sky–it smelled like rain–and tried to calm herself down, but it didn't matter. Once she started, Hazel couldn't stop until her anxiety was quelled. The odds of someone ever escaping death was slim to none, and the only time it happened, the mortal was sent to eternal torment. But Nero was dead. One hundred percent, absolutely, rotting in a grave with riches galore, dead. None managed to get out of the Underworld before, and security had certainly tightened since the fall of the Roman Empire. Still, her mind was screaming at her, begging her to see that something was off.

Intuition was a demigod's greatest skill. Hazel was never one to ignore it.

***

Oak paced around the infirmary, disobeying Will's orders to "just sit down, stay on the bed, don't be an idiot, someone got stabbed three times and I don't have time for your shit" with a heavy accent and eye bags so pronounced he deserved an award for still standing on his two feet. Sorry Will, but he did leave Oak out of his sight, so maybe this was actually his fault. Besides, they were pretty much healed, it was just a dislocated shoulder.

More importantly, they couldn't stop worrying. Octavian was pissed when they came back with the news that they did not, in fact, die. It felt great to be appreciated.

Though Octavian was to be expected, what they didn't expect was this guttural dread sending chills down their spine. Usually, when the mission is done, the nerves go away. This feeling was new. And from what they could tell, they weren't the only one feeling that way. Oak had seen how distracted Lavinia was–she wasn't even tuning in to insult Octavian with no regard for her job (something Oak was doing while their arm was literally ripped out of its socket)–and the way she fiddled with a hair tie, pulling it back at letting it snap onto her wrist. And only then, with that slight and sharp pain did Lavinia look up, eyes slowly coming into focus, and then left. Octavian's face was glorious, but it didn't do much to quell Oak's anxiety.

They replayed everything over and over, trying to find something that was worrying, and every time came out with nothing. It did nothing but make the anxiety worse. They were definitely missing something, they just didn't know what.

Will came into the infirmary, holding the largest cup of coffee Oak had ever seen and eye bags magically gone. "You are good to go, let me get the IV..."

As soon as the needle was out, Oak practically sprinted to the exit, catching sight of Lavinia coming their way.

She told them about Hazel and Oak figured that Nero had been bothering them. But that same feeling still lingered. "There's nothing else?" Oak asked.

Her brown eyes narrowed, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows. "I... I don't know."

Fuck. They replayed it again. And again, stuck on when they were thrown into the wall, just before the monster stopped attacking–

It stopped attacking. Why did it stop attacking? The monster must have been distracted. Why was it distracted, what was it doing? It was in the crate.

It was looking for something.

***

The archives of the Underworld were large and dark, with deep blues emitting from the various shelves filled with the scrolls of the dead. Everything was stored here. Records of death, transcripts of trials, details of funeral gifts. It was one of the most secure places of the afterlife. Being touched by anyone that isn't Underworld staff would lead you to excruciating pain that lasts until someone, usually Hecate, relieves the curse. And she was known to take her time when it came to that. Not that it mattered. Some say that the files were impossible to navigate and you'd go insane before finding a file even in the ballpark of what you needed. It was, of course, utter bullshit, but the rumor kept the archives protected.

Hazel had always been familiar with the filing system of the Underworld–a skill neither of her siblings shared–so it shouldn't have been so nerve wracking to pull out the lists of the dead from the Roman Empire. The long scrolls held together by the forces of the Underworld were rough against her fingers. She searched through the scroll, diligently hanging on to every name she came across before finding him. Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. Death by suicide. 9 June AD 68.

Her brows creased as she searched for a continuation of the passage. There was always more. Details regarding the transcript of the trial, the location of the spirit, whether he had chosen rebirth or even given that option. There had to be another file somewhere. There had to be another file. It was the only thought that kept her going through scroll after scroll, section after section, shelf after shelf, her breathing fast and hollow as her mind scrambled. There had to be another fucking file in these bullshit Archives.

Still, there she was, the family expert on this place, unable to find anything. Something had happened, and nothing happened in the Underworld. She had to be missing the scroll because this was impossible wasn't it? An error this large? No, it can't be. Her breaths began to quicken and she could feel her stomach churning. That same guttural sensation that brought her here knew before she did. There was nothing here.

Nero was not here.

Hazel probably would have stayed there for hours, sitting on the floor with her head buried in her hands if it weren't for common sense suddenly reappearing after many years. Hopefully it decided to stay for a little longer this time. 

Somewhere between the awful buzzing in her ears, something clicked. Nico knew the Underworld better than anyone. Hell, he probably knew more about it than Pluto himself.

She sucked in a deep breath and ran to their wing, where he was passed out on the couch, drooling on Hazel's pillow. Why did he always do this? He had his own magical pillow gifted from Hypnos, gods. She snatched it from under him and slapped his head with it, which would have been funny if she was not in hysterics.

He jolted awake with his jaw length hair falling out of its tiny bun. He glared up at Hazel, trying to silently threaten her with a furrowed brow and... darkness behind his pitch black eyes? Hazel had no clue, this boy wasn't scary. He was a scrawny little Italian with abandonment issues. Why anyone was afraid of him was a mystery for the ages.

Nico looked like he was prepared to fight (a stupid idea, he would lose), but then saw that Hazel was still breathing as though she'd run a marathon across the globe. "What happened?" Gods, that tired vocal-fry made him sound so weird.

Hazel forced herself to focus on not silently insulting her brother for a moment. Sadly, that was the only thing keeping her anxiety in check. Her shoulders tightened and her stomach churning creating an unbearable biliousness. Her throat hurt and gods she wanted to just vomit and cry and sit in a corner with the pillow Nico stole until she felt normal again. Still, she managed to explain everything without any of that. Except for the crying. There was quite a lot of that.

Nico furrowed his brow again, he was always doing that. "What monster were they fighting?"

Hazel sighed and started pulling on her coils–she was doing that so much she was going to have to style it again. "I-I don't know. She just said that it was cannibalistic and that it said something–"

"It can talk?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Probably an anthropophagus." Nico paused and stared into the distance. "That's weird. Do they usually do that?"

Hazel had no clue what the fuck he was talking about. "What's an anthro-foe-gas?"

"Anthropophagus," Nico said, as if that answered her question. "I mean, yes, they eat people, but not usually like that. This one probably went rogue," he muttered.

It answered a few of the questions that Hazel had flooding her mind, but more popped up, such as, "Nico, are you friends with cannibals?" which he did not answer.

"Why would it have gone rogue?" he whispered. It seemed to be more to himself than to Hazel, and only gave her more questions and made her feel bile rising in her throat. She swallowed it down. He glanced at her and got up, still with that faraway look. "What file are we looking for?"

***

Lavinia and Poison Oak stood in the waiting room at Octavian's office. She knew they had to go back, but the Triumvirate was structured. They couldn't do anything without approval, which sucked in times like this. Lavinia was certain if they didn't leave now, they were going to miss something.

But of course, when Lavinia actually needed Octavian to exist in her proximity, he was nowhere to be found. His poor secretary–which he did not need–had simply directed them to the chairs outside his room. "He said he'd come back soon," she said, looking like she hated her job and needed a raise. "But Octav–Mr. Weeber has never really been known for keeping his word."

Lavinia paced around the room, chewing the inside of her mouth. They'd been there for thirty minutes and still no sign of Octavian Weeber. Fucking Weeber. Lavinia couldn't even find the joy in the pathetic surname. She glanced at Poison Oak, who glared at the large doors, as if that would make them open.

After another ten, Lavinia had enough. "Fuck it," she said, startling Oak out of their staring match with the door. "I'm just going to go."

"If you do that, you're going to get fired."

Oh mighty Jupiter, please smite me, she thought. "Well, we can't just stay here and wait for him! For all we know, he could be jacking off to beheading a 3-year-old's teddy bear."

Poison Oak blinked. "Um. Okay. Moving on." They were silent for a moment. "Isn't Jason at the same rank as Octavian?"

"Yes," Lavinia paused for a breath, "but Octavian's gonna be mad he wasn't invited to the depressing tea-party if we met Jason without him."

"I'm sure Jason will handle him. I really doubt either of us can wait so long before–"

"Mr. Weeber is now out of office hours," said the poor receptionist who needed a better job. "I'd be happy to take a message." She looked like she would pull every organ out of their bodies if they did such a thing.

"We're good," said Oak. "Thank you. I hope he pays you well."

The receptionist gave a pained smile. "Have a wonderful day." Gods, please help this poor soul.

Lavinia would have stayed to get this girl out of such a horrid position, but she had more pressing matters to attend to. She sprinted to the other end of the hall, where she practically fell into Jason, who was just leaving his office.

"What are you–" Jason started.

"We have a bit of a situation with our latest mission," Lavinia interrupted. "Octavian left so we couldn't get approval to go back before cleanup–"

"Asimov, if I approve one of his missions–pardon my French–he'd get fucking pissed."

"This can't wait. Um, sir," Oak added. "There are a lot of details that don't make sense and we didn't get an opportunity to thoroughly investigate as I was hospitalized."

"Yeah, and Octavian left early anyway. We were in his office for an hour, he never showed up. And do you really think he would take our claim seriously after he thought I was the only one who needed to take this job?" Lavinia said, watching Jason's face morph into silent consideration.

"What makes you think this can't wait?"

Lavinia shrugged. "What made you think you couldn't wait when you killed that giant? If you hadn't gone back that day, we would've been swarmed." Which was true, in fact, it was how Jason got his position. He had found a giant that had made its home in a nearby cave that suddenly appeared about a mile away from the Triumvirate a year ago. He'd killed it, but came back later, against the orders of his superiors, and found dozens of those same caves surrounding the perimeter of the Triumvirate. No one knows how the higher-ups weren't notified, but Jason definitely saved their asses. Not many people were equipped to fight one giant, much less twenty. He let the comment sit for a moment before looking Lavinia in the eye.

"Don't tell Octavian."