It was probably the warship that should have tipped Percy off. To his embarrassment, he was one of the last to notice it. At the moment, he was trying not to doze off as Annabeth tried to explain something or other to him.
Annabeth paced back and forth along the floor of the Big House, folding and unfolding the newspaper in her hands absentmindedly. "I'm telling you, it doesn't make sense," Annabeth repeated, her brow furrowing. "The amount of new demigods popping up had increased, but I thought that had just been good luck. Now, though, even the mortals are spotting monsters. During the war against Gaia, that was explainable. There were just a very large amount of creatures in relatively small areas. But now, though… well, see for yourself."
Annabeth tossed the newspaper over to Percy. Being half-asleep, Percy didn't notice the throw until the paper smacked him in the forehead, causing him to almost fall off of the chair he was reclining on. Percy quickly sat up, picking up the newspaper and trying to look awake. Unfolding the newspaper, Percy frowned at the headline.
"Uh, tell me if I'm not reading this correctly, but this doesn't have anything to do with monsters," Percy pointed out, turning the paper upside-down as if it would help him understand it better. "I mean, all it says is, Court Ruling Released: America in Shock. Unless you're talking about lawyers, I have no idea what monsters you're talking about."
Annabeth sighed in exasperation. Snatching the newspaper from Percy's hands, she began flipping through the pages quickly, shaking her head. "Not the headline, Percy. Honestly, are you being this dense on purpose or…"
Annabeth trailed off, folding the paper over on itself and handing back to Percy. "There," she said, gesturing towards an article about half the size of a postcard.
Percy scanned the article, trying to look contemplative. It wasn't easy. After a minute or two he chuckled. "Wait, you're worried about this? Local Man Claims To Have Seen Fire-Breathing Dog. Alien Connection? Honestly, Annabeth, this isn't something to panic about. For all we know, this guy had a bit too much to drink and saw a chihuahua. Crackpots like this show up all the time."
Annabeth rolled her eyes, snatching back the newspaper. "Did you even listen to what I was saying? I know that crazy people show up occasionally, I've been to New York. The point is, these are popping up everywhere. Usually the Mist takes care of it, and we only had to be put on cleanup once or twice a year, tops. This is the sixth one this week. Something's going on, and I don't like it."
Percy got to his feet, stretching. "Well, as much fun as listening to your conspiracy theories is, I'm going to need to take a timeout. Give it a break, Annabeth. We've only been back at camp for a month now, tops. We just managed to defeat the entire freaking planet in a battle. Can't we just take a little time to, you know, relax?"
Annabeth tossed the newspaper onto her bunk, giving Percy a sideways look. "The only reason I haven't brought this up earlier was because you insisted on your relaxation. And don't forget how long our last 'break' lasted. A few months. So please excuse me for wanting to be prepared."
Percy shrugged. "You're excused. Besides," he said grinning and wrapping his arms around Annabeth, "if our vacation from life-or-death, fate-of-the-world missions only lasts for few months, let's make the most of it, shall we?"
Annabeth shook her head, failing to repress a small smile. "You really are an idiot."
Percy grinned, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "That's why I have you. It's easier to relax when someone else is freaking out."
Annabeth rolled her eyes, slipping out of Percy's hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was your stress sponge."
Percy shook his head, laughing. "Can't you just relax for a minute or two? Nothing bad is going to happen unless you keep making these conspiracy theories."
Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so I'm psychic now? Okay, fine."
Annabeth dramatically pointed towards the door to the Big House, squeezing her eyes shut as if concentrating deeply. "My conspiracy theory power, as you so eloquently called it, is telling me that Jason is going to come running through that door in exactly thirty seconds, and will say something that will prove that I'm not 'freaking out', as you claim."
Percy glanced up at the cuckoo clock on the far wall, right next to a collection of weird pictures of Chiron from the sixties. Creepy. Percy stared as the second hand ticked around the clock.
"Tell you what, if you're right about this, I promise I will never relax again. I'll be as conspiracy-crazy as you are, if that's even possible."
Annabeth glared at Percy, who shrugged and continued watching the clock. Ten seconds to go. Five seconds. Three, two, one.
The silence was absolute. Percy could swear that if he had dropped Riptide, it would have sounded like a cannonball.
Percy looked back at Annabeth, grinning. "Too bad. Looks like we're going to have to relax for another month or so, if that doesn't kill y-"
Percy was cut off when the screen door of the Big House flew open, smacking against the wall with the sound of a table being knocked over. Standing in the doorway was Jason himself, panting and leaning against the door. He glanced up, looking from Percy to Annabeth and back.
"Okay, good, you're both here," Jason panted. It was clear that he had sprinted all the way from the other side of camp. Jason shook his head in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed.
"You two really need to come see this," Jason managed, trying to catch his breath. "I'm not quite sure what that thing is, but it wasn't there a minute ago, and I'm pretty sure it has enough firepower on it to wipe out the entire camp."
Jason glanced at Percy and Annabeth, who stared back at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "What?" Jason asked, confused. "Did I interrupt something?"
Percy slowly turned his gaze over to Annabeth, who looked just as shocked as he was. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Is it, um, is it too late to take back the bet?"
It took a grand total of fifteen minutes to get to Fireworks Beach. A third of that time was spent rounding up the remaining campers who hadn't yet made a dash for the beach. Unfortunately, the camp was rather barren at the moment. Frank and Hazel were at Camp Jupiter for the time being, and wouldn't be visiting Camp Half-Blood until next weekend. Nico had been shadow traveling to pick up new recruits again, so right now he was somewhere in Tampa Bay. Piper was already on the beach, as Jason explained, and Leo was, well, still dead. Only four of the old Argo II crew was around camp. Percy didn't like those odds. Running headfirst into situations like this with only two-thirds strength seemed like a recipe for catastrophe, but it wasn't really like they had much choice. Besides, charging blindly into danger was Percy's specialty.
Jason explained the cause of the panic as the three of them sprinted through the woods. Apparently Jason and Piper had been strolling along the beach, which Jason insisted was to scout hiding places for the next capture-the-flag. Right. Anyway, the two of them had been immersed in conversation when boom. There it was. Jason stumbled over his words trying to describe what exactly "it" was, but two key points stood out; it was very, very big and very, very heavily-armed. Percy cursed in Greek. It had only been a month since the last time some heavily-armed maniac had paraded up to the camp with the intent of blasting it off of the map. Percy wasn't exactly eager for a repeat.
Percy was the first to break out of the woods, but he screeched to a stop so suddenly that Annabeth dashed directly into his back, and Jason into hers. Percy barely noticed the impact. He was too busy staring at the massive warship that was hovering a hundred yards above their heads.
The entirety of the camp was clustered beneath the colossal battleship, many of them gripping their weapons tightly and glancing at each other nervously. Percy noticed Piper near the front of the crowd, staring up at the dark underbelly of the metallic monstrosity above them. She turned around and shouted something at Jason, but Percy couldn't hear her over the deafening roar of the warship's engines.
The warship itself was a steel monstrosity of mismatched armor and heavy weaponry. The plating was battleship gray, scorched badly in several places and riddled with bullet holes and dozens of cannonball-shaped indentions. The barrels of massive artillery cannons poked out the sides of the battleship, their sights aimed uncomfortably close to the camp. Oily black smoke poured out of an improvised smokestack set near the back of the vessel, painting the early afternoon sky an ugly tar-black. A gigantic black sail billowed in the morning wind, the tattered edges flapping loosely. Chipping paint on the ship's bow depicted the greek letter omega, and painted directly below the symbol was the ship's title, The Achilles. Overall, the ship looked like a massive, militarized version of the Argo II. The resemblance made Percy's skin crawl.
Percy glanced at Jason, who was also staring up at the warship in a mixture of amazement and nervousness. Without meaning to, Percy clamped his hand down on Riptide's grip. Whatever was up there in that ship, Percy couldn't tell if it was friend or foe.
"This can't be Leo, right?" Percy shouted over the deafening roar of the engines. Jason looked over at him, apparently contemplating the suggestion. Finally, he shook his head.
"Can't be!" Jason shouted back, struggling to be heard over the screeching. "Leo would have at least a firework launcher, or a confetti cannon. He at least had some flair."
Percy frowned, returning his gaze to the warship. Suddenly, the engines cut out, sharply dropping from a cacophony of screeching and burning to nearly a whisper. Some of the campers screamed, dropping to the ground and covering their heads. Percy couldn't particularly blame them. They were only a few yards away from the belly of the warship. If the monstrosity were to suddenly drop like a rock, it would crush the majority of the camp instantly. Fortunately, the warship remained floating nonetheless, as numerous exhaust ports slid open in the hull and coughed out clouds of putrid smoke. The entire ship groaned mechanically, almost as though it was exhausted from a long, grueling voyage.
A hush fell over the campers. Percy wasn't exactly sure what to expect next. A warning shot, perhaps? A demand for unconditional surrender? Exactly how many gods were furious enough at them to fund the creation of a war machine just to crush Camp Half-Blood? Percy glanced back at Annabeth warily.
"Okay, maybe your conspiracy theories weren't as crazy as they seemed," Percy admitted, shifting into a fighting stance instinctively.
Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him, shifting her gaze between him and the iron behemoth above them. "Really? It takes an entire warship for you to admit that I was right again?"
Percy scowled. "One more day, couldn't we have had one more day without being attacked by a giant or warship or an entire planet? Was that too much to ask?"
Jason cleared his throat, stepping between Percy and Annabeth. "If you two are done arguing, then you might want to take a look up on the deck."
Annabeth glanced up at the warship, squinting to see what Jason was pointing at. "Is… is that a white flag?"
Percy stared up at the warship, dumbfounded. Sure enough, he could just make out a figure standing on the deck of the Achilles, waving back and forth a white flag made of a yardstick and an old pillowcase. Percy had to strain his eyes to see it, but he could just make out the words scrawled on the pillowcase: DON'T SHOOT!
Percy would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so threatening. Here they were, standing under a thousand-ton warship filled to the brim with artillery, and the pilot of the warship was worrying about them shooting? Percy couldn't believe it.
Without warning, one of the artillery guns nearest to the beach fired with a burst of smoke and a deafening blast. Percy had to dive backwards to avoid getting splattered across the beach by the projectile, praying to the gods that it wasn't going to explode. If it did, then this would be an exceptionally embarrassing way to die. He could see the obituary now: Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon, Victor of the Titan War and Giant War: killed by stray explosive shell. Not the most dignified way to go.
Luckily for Percy, the artillery gun had launched what appeared to be a gigantic lead anchor into the sand. A thin steel chain was bolted to the back of it, forming a steep slope from the warship to the beach. Percy staggered to his feet, shaking the pebbles out of his hair and spitting the sand out of his mouth. Next to him, Annabeth giggled, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle the sound. Percy couldn't really blame her. Burying his own head in the sand wasn't exactly the most serious of situations.
The figure on the Achilles set down the white flag, swapping it out for a device that appeared to be a clothes-hanger/magnet hybrid. Before anyone in the camp could react, the figure took a running leap off of the edge of his ship, soaring directly towards the cable trailing off of the anchor. Within an instant, the figure was yanked by his magnet contraption towards the metal chain, snapping onto it in a gut-wrenching lurch. As soon as the contraption latched onto the wire, the figure began skidding down towards the beach, sliding down the chain like an impromptu zipline. This time it was Annabeth and Jason diving out of the way to avoid being run over by the rapidly-moving projectile of a person.
The figure hit the ground in a combat roll, on his feet almost instantaneously and shifting into a combat crouch that almost mirrored Percy's own. The figure glanced up at the three demigods in front of him, switching his gaze quickly from one to the other. It looked like he was taking them all in, not sure who he should strike first.
Percy uncapped Riptide instinctively, allowing the celestial bronze blade to leap to its fully-formed state. Next to him, he noticed Annabeth and Jason drawing their weapons, too. Whoever this guy was, none of them were taking any chances.
The boy's outfit didn't give them any reason to relax. Judging by his size and body shape, this was definitely a teenage boy, roughly the same size as Percy. He was wearing beaten sneakers and torn-up jeans, but otherwise he was dressed like he had just stepped out of a war zone. The boy's head was completely hidden within an ancient leather gas mask, the steel air filters a charcoal-like color from overlapping layers of rust. He wore a black hoodie that had clearly seen better days, with a frayed belt wrapped tightly around his waist. Fastened loosely to his side was a beaten leather holster, with the corroded handle of a handgun poking out of the top. Overall, the boy wouldn't have looked out of place in a zombie movie, or a dystopian television series.
The boy and the three demigods had an awkward standoff for a few seconds. Percy half-expected a tumbleweed to blow by, and a western movie soundtrack to start playing in the distance.
Finally the boy got to his feet, his hand still resting on his handgun. "I, um…" he started awkwardly, his voice muffled by the leather mask strapped to his face. "I come in peace. Don't stab me. I have this irrational fear of being skewered by angry demigods."
Annabeth took a step forward, which was more than could be said about either Percy or Jason. Both of them just glanced at each other. Usually it was easy to tell whether they were supposed to fight someone or not. If this guy had made a melodramatic speech, referred to them by their first and last names, or called any of them a fool, he would have clearly been evil. Telling a bad joke? That was more in the gray area.
"Who are you?" Annabeth asked sharply, switching her gaze between the boy in front of her and his warship. "And why, exactly, did you feel the need to bring an entire armada with you?"
The boy turned to face her, glancing away from the mass of campers he had been staring at a moment earlier. Suddenly, he froze. The boy's arms went slack, and he did nothing but stare mutely at Annabeth, who was clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
"What? Did you go mute on us?" Annabeth asked, shifting her stance uncomfortably.
The boy stayed quiet for a few more seconds, before he whispered something behind his gas mask. To Percy, it sounded like the kid had either said, "Annabeth," or, "And a sloth". Judging by context, it was probably the first one.
Without warning, the boy suddenly took a step forward, reaching his hand out towards Annabeth. Percy suddenly remembered that he had legs, and he quickly took a step between Annabeth and the stranger, holding Riptide level to his chest.
"Take another step forward," Percy warned, allowing Riptide's tip to hover inches from the other boy's hoodie, "And we might go back on your 'white flag' policy."
The boy stopped, his arm half-extended. Percy could hear Annabeth behind him quietly insisting that he put the sword down, but he didn't move his blade an inch.
"Who are you?" Percy repeated firmly, keeping the sword only an inch or two away from the boy's chest. "And why are you here?"
The boy stared at Percy for a moment, cocking his head slightly. Percy could swear that he heard repressed laughter from behind the gas mask. Finally the stranger shrugged, reaching up to grab the straps of his gas mask. After a minute or two of playing with the straps and buckles, the boy managed to rip the gas mask off of his face, taking a gasp of fresh air.
Percy felt his lungs freeze inside his rib cage. Behind him, he heard Annabeth gasp, and Jason muttered something very rude in Latin under his breath.
The boy's uncut black hair fell almost over his eyes, like he hadn't had a decent haircut in months. His face was smeared with dirt, barely concealing some bad scrapes and cuts along the side of his face. The boy still managed a slight smile, but it wasn't a happy one. It was more of a, look at that, we're all going to die, yay, half-crazed grin. Black war paint was streaked underneath his sea-green eyes, already beginning to chip from long-term wear.
The boy grinned at the three of them, evidently amused by their reactions.
"The name's Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon," the boy said, strapping his gas mask to his side and pulling a beaten and rusty pen out of his pocket. Spinning the corroded Riptide between his fingers, the boy's expression turned serious.
"And I'm here to make sure every single one of you doesn't die a fiery death. Now, please tell me one of you has something for me to eat."
(Note: I do not own Percy Jackson or the Heroes of Olympus). I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, thanks to everyone reading this.