Houston, We have a problem

-Patrick's POV

"This is mission control. Pilot, do you hear me?"

"Um…yeah, although I do seem to have a problem…."

"But haven't we already—"

"Yes, I did practice—"

"Then how the f*ck did you manage to mess the effing landing procedures?"

"Look 'ere, Patrick, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over."

"Stop quoting 2001 a Space Odyssey, for goodness's sake, and make it godd*mn work! This is a matter of your life, Tristan, not a thing done for your lulz or that kind of…I…I'm sorry, mate, I have some problem processing this even right now…

"Omar, his GPS coordinates?"

"Uh… let me see.

"About 40.4 degrees north, 72.9 degrees west."

"That's near Long Island, I think. Do you see any land over there?"

"No, but I see a raft. No one there, but I'm not really sure."

"Then if you're going to crash, you should plan it so that you are gliding on the ocean towards that raft. Do you copy?"

"Oooooookay."

"Get on the raft. We'll have to send a rescue vessel."

"Cheers! I'll be waiting for ya!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that this is NOT A FRIGGIN—"

I sighed, and then turned back to Omar, who was looking at his GPS device.

"Welp…we should go rescue him, I guess, though I don't know how many times we repeated this over and over and over—"

"97 times. 3 more and we should do an anniversary or something."

"Just start up the aeromobile."

"Ok…"

Seriously, why did Tristan have to mess every single experiment up? And why did he head to the Atlantic? Didn't I already tell him that he needed to stay within radar range? I sighed from exasperation, and flew to the coordinates Omar has provided me with. Too bad for us, I thought, as this situation was getting quite normal. Tristan and I'd think up an idea, I and Omar would come up with a good calculation for that, we'd complete the invention, and boom. Somehow Tristan managed to mess up all the test drives for their projects.

Not that it was his fault, of course.

First of all, Omar really trusts Tristan up to a dangerous point where Tristan could bankrupt Omar and somehow Omar would trust him again. And of course there was the fact that I could manage to focus on multiple things at once. Maybe I did make the GUI too complex. But still. We had about a 100 times going through the whole flight procedure, and still Tristan would decide to be forgetful enough to skip the slowdown process. There. He felt the anger boiling up again, as he glared at Tristan, who apparently was lulled to sleep. The nerve. The effing nerve of him, to snore on a raft after blowing up a whole Iron Man suit. I really considered the option of slapping him in the face and letting my rage go, but the thought soon dissipated as I spotted yet another guy on the raft. He looked a bit younger than me, owing to the fact that I was growing a beard on my chin. Not a good time to have a beard.

Shaking these random thoughts aside, I shook Tristan out from his trip to Morpheus. With a very annoyed look on his face, Tristan's forehead crunched in confusion and annoyance. I let him wake up fully and he gave me a very big grin with his white shiny teeth showing, and the side of his lips going up all the way to his nose, his eyes curling upwards, as if he was saying everything was okay. That 'Hey, it's okay pal' grin was usually a sign that he was in a good mood, but the thing was, that he was always in a good mood, and the grin, to me, always looked like a mischievous smile, the type of that you can't resist it spreading on your face after successfully trolling someone. Seeing that stupid grin plastered on his face after the crash landing(which, I bet, has cost me about a hundred dollars and about 20 visits to the scrapyard) made me seriously rethink about inviting him into the lab. Sure, the lab was fun, and Tris was so upbeat that he would be able to cheer the god of misery up(And yes, I was quite into Greek•Roman mythology), but now, after destroying a quarter of my whole budget(200 dollars? That's unworthy of being called a 'budget' but anyways, my whole budget) and 2 months of our hardest efforts in just one effing go, that grin was absolutely the worst reaction possible to this mess.

God I hated him.

'Feel the universe around you, Patrick, and slowly count to ten.'

'1.'

"Patrick!"

'2.'

"Hey pal!"

'3.'

"So I met this guy here on the raft, and apparently his name is Nico—"

The boy called 'Nico' gave Tristan a glare.

Nice one.

'4.'

"And he tells me that he's now going to the only safe place now,"

'5.'

"Apparently it's a camp for 'half-bloods'!"

'6.'

"Though I'm not sure what that means, but I think it's half-human half-god,"

'7.'

"Because he claims that he is a son of Hades."

'8…Wait, what?'

"Is this god called 'Hades' from one of your stupid Greek mythology books or something?"

"Hey!" Nico shouted, clearly annoyed.

"What did you say, stupid Greek—What…the…holy sh*t.

"Tris?"

"Yea?" He said with a yawn.

"Are you trying to tell me that we have Greek gods on the loose right now—"

"What do you mean, on the loose—"

"Yep." Tristan cut Nico off.

"—and we are now headed to the only safe place in the world, which apparently isn't our effing lab, right?"

"Yeeeeeesss…although it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Seriously, man, are you trying to make me believe this?"

"Uh…yes." He decided.

I sighed, not knowing what to make of Tristan. Sure, he was a good friend, but now, when he started to trust everything around him, I really couldn't resist reconsidering the side effects of having him as one of my best friends. Then it hit me.

The aeromobile. The effing aeromobile. Sure, it was designed to float in the air, but basically it was like a snowmobile fitted with ion thrusters, which, if you ask me, is kind of similar to the wheels of that DeLorean from Back to the Future. Therefore, if it was sunk in the water, the aeromobile itself would be broken beyond repair. I looked around and I found it floating on the water. I desperately straddled on the driver's seat, furiously spamming the 'bootup' button for dear life because if the aeromobile didn't start up then I knew that we were stuck on this stupid raft, sailing to an unknown place that my dear most annoying and untrustworthy Tristan claims to be the 'only safe place in this flippin' world. I spammed the button and replaced the battery canister and the godd*mn thing still refused to work!

Ah, Dannazione.

Author's note: This is my first time trying to write a fic without any main plot. The story will be revolving around my OC's(Patrick, Omar and Tristan). So if you find any mistakes in my writing, any OOC moments in the story, or any…oh, any kind of help and advice is quite welcome. Enjoy, and please keep in touch. And by the way, about the M rating…what is your definition of 'minor' coarse language? If you guys don't have a problem with the language here, I'm planning to change the ratings to T.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, the Heroes of Olympus, or Voltz. What I own is only Patrick, Omar, Tristan, and some descriptions of my Arch Linux system.

Poll: What should the Campers do on the side chapters?

a. Their own Voltz series!(somehow I get the feeling that Connor and Travis will…Yeah…)

b. Derby della Capitale episode!(AS Rome vs SS Lazio. Promise you guys, this will be quite fun.)

c. A Civilization 5 match!

d. A Starcraft Match!

e. Facebook?