I apologize for any "spaling or gramarr" errors in advance. This happens to be a rushed job, but I've been playing with the topic in my head for a while. Dedicated to all Percabeth fans - I hope you enjoy it.
P.S. Since there has been some confusing over the setting, I'll explain. The story occurs at a separate camp-ground - at an out-trip. Therefore, there is much less protection around the place. Hope you get it.
"Percy!" Annabeth was screaming at the top of her lungs. She was sick and tired of constantly having to ask him for help. Once in his damn life, just once, couldn't he get up and do something useful?
He emerged from his tent and looked up. His hair was ruffled, as if he'd been lying on the sleeping bags for hours on end. The headphones from his iPod were still inserted, and the music pulsed loud enough for passers-by to hear.
"What?" His tone suggested the interruption was, by far, the most inconvenient of his life.
"I want you to go and get the pasta from the van. It's in the blue one."
He groaned. "Fine, Your Highness."
If looks could kill, Annabeth's glare would petrify the whole camp. "Shut up, and do it quickly."
He groaned again, but proceeded to the vans. She'll never shut up and let me live, will she? It's always "Percy, do this" or "Percy, do that"… Someday, if I get caught and killed by a monster while doing one of her little quests, it'll be all her fault.
As he approached the three vans, he thought back. Which van was it, again…? He couldn't remember. Instead of guessing, Percy turned on his heels and walked back to the camp.
"Annabeth," he called. "Whi – "
"Do you have the pasta?" She glared for the umpteenth time, and suddenly, Percy felt very foolish.
"I – no. I forgot – I mean, I didn't hear which van it was in."
"Blue van." Her response was curt, but her tone spoke the words "Just go and get the damn pasta!"
"Right, thanks."
He turned to the vans, and slid the blue door. As he proceeded to open the various containers, he heard a rustle. I'm being way too paranoid. It's probably the plastic bag or something. Opening the last container, he finally spotted the box of pasta. Considering he found it in the last container, he thought his luck was becoming worse than it once was. How much worse, he didn't know.
He spun on his heels, suddenly conscious of the deep snarling. Glancing down, he saw marks on the ground. Realization struck him at the same time as the monster did.
Back at the camp, Annabeth was growing more annoyed by the minute. Everyone was chattering happily, glad to have made it to the camp-ground after the long trip. She looked over the lake, thinking of the many ways she could throw Percy in once it got dark. Of course, the water wouldn't harm him. On the other hand, he would be annoyed.
As the campers gathered around the campfire, their babbling died down. The Stoll Brothers were entertaining them with their latest joke (involving a camper, a pair of shorts, a deck of cards, and ice), and the noise level was considerably lower. As they began to lower ice into the unsuspecting camper's shorts (who, meanwhile, was busy with the cards), a loud smack echoed over the camp grounds. This was followed by a scream, a squishing noise, and a very loud silence.
Heads turned as one towards the miniature parking lot, from where a giant beast emerged. In the days to come, campers would not remember the shape of the beast distinctly; they'd merely recall its resemblance to a bull. What they would remember was the limp form hanging from its mouth. Blood oozing, Percy Jackson was undoubtedly dead.
All comments, rants, and flames are much appreciated. Have a nice day!