Ryan

Take my advice - leading an interesting life is not necessarily a good thing. Mine, for example. You might think that being the child of an all-powerful immortal being makes for a blast. You can kick back, get access to a whole bunch of cool powers, and let mom or dad take care of your life, right?

Well, it doesn't exactly work like that. See, there are a few problems with that assumption if A) you have no idea who your godly parent is, B) if every other kind of immortal being is trying to kill you, and C) you keep getting thrown into the most dangerous situations possible. Superhuman reflexes and a certain amount of willpower can only get you so far. As for me, it all started when I lost half a day and woke up drowning.

It was the afternoon of my fifteenth birthday and, like usual, I was in the nearest library. Some people would call me a bookworm nerd, and those people would be seriously underestimating how well both of those adjectives apply to me. Ever since I can remember, I've been addicted to knowledge of any kind. I suppose it makes me feel safe - especially in the demigod world, the more you know, the better off you are. Swallowing every detail you can will save your life if you need a quick weakness to pin down for a monster, or the answer to an ancient riddle. It didn't really prepare me for my first quest, though.

I suppose I should have been in the infirmary, tending to those who had been damaged in the attack. I was one of the few with enough sense (though I knew others would have and did call it cowardice) to take cover when it began, and as such I escape with only minor bruises. Many weren't so lucky. A major battle followed by an unexpected incursion, complete with ballistae and a dragon? Not a recipe for good times.

But I was doing what I felt comfortable with. That is, poring over a stack of medical texts taller than I was, taking two pages at a time, so that I could do what was needed well enough to be useful. Unfortunately, that meant I wasn't actually being useful. I didn't have to turn around, but I knew someone was standing right behind me, glaring at my neck reproachfully. It gave me a tingling feeling in that exact spot, much like a combat reflex warning me of danger. In this case, the danger was a girl.

I turned around. Sally Fischer, daughter of Mercury, was outside of the rigid posture I had been sure until that moment she was permanently stuck in. Her hips were tilted to one side, arms crossed over a purple T-shirt. Her thin, chapped lips were formed into a scowl, and her bright yellow eyebrows had almost disappeared into the gray beret she wore to hide her buzz cut.

You'd never guess Sally and I were friends from looking at us. For one, as the centurion of the Fourth Cohort, she outranked me by a vast margin, even though I'd been at camp longer. If it hadn't been for the year standard of induction, I'd probably still be on probatio. And her reputation as the so-called 'hardest of the core' made it difficult for anyone to accept that she could form bonds with people. But our relationship was predicated on mutual respect, much to my surprise.

It wasn't hard to respect Sally. She was a full demigod, and had inherited her father's speed aspect; I'd seen her top out at speeds more than twice as fast as Olympic sprinters, which made her a nightmare in combat. On top of it all, she carried a gladius cut down a few inches so that it was more of a knife than a sword. With that blade plus her footwork, she could easily get inside someone's guard without any significant disadvantage.

And she liked me because...well, I was the Fourth Cohort's impromptu Google, essentially. Anytime a question was brought up, Sally knew I would have an answer. It was about the only time I was useful to the group, but I enjoyed the feeling of being an assistant, even if it meant imitating Siri half the time. 'Ryan, what's the top speed of a jaguar?' 'Beep. Would you like that in kilometers or miles per hour, ma'am?' 'Ryan, what's the weather like on the San Franciso Bay?' 'Boop. Eighty three percent humidity and overcast, ma'am. There are two stores in your area that sell raincoats.' And so on.

We joked about that (well, I did), but everyone knew knowledge was power, and I did my best to stick to my strengths. Even if we did have no idea who my godly parent was. I'm an odd case in that everyone knew I was a demigod. If I hadn't been, Lupa wouldn't have sent me to Camp Jupiter in the first place. The problem was, I was also an orphan. So both of my parents were open for immortal heritage. But even though I was fifteen, I hadn't been claimed. That worried me.

"You know what the punishment is for dereliction of duty, Seacrest?" Sally's voice brought my thoughts back to the real world. My name isn't really Ryan Seacrest, but since we don't know my last name, everyone usually just puts in a random surname shared by another famous Ryan. I don't mind, even though sometimes I wish I were at least related to those people. Unless someone subs in Newman.

"Umm," my mind raced and settled upon the answer almost immediately, but it wasn't really pleasant. "Beaten to death by cudgels?"

Sally clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Please. That's barbaric. This is 'Frisco, we don't use cudgels - we use baseball bats."

If it hadn't been Sally, I might have thought she was serious. Actually, I still couldn't be sure. My mouth opened and closed, and I could've sworn I heard myself emit a small squeaking noise. Mentally, I was eliminating possible parents, like I usually did when I proved inept at something. Not good with words or remotely charismatic. There went Venus, Apollo and Jupiter, along with a few others.

Sally rolled her eyes. "At ease. You know, you really should consider applying to be an immune. At least then you can't be disciplined for hiding in the library while something important goes on."

"I don't really have the skills necessary to be an immune." I mumbled.

"Nonsense," she snapped. "You're a trivia factotum. An oracle, but for the past and present. That's how you should phrase the request, anyway." Her deep blue eyes scanned my textbooks, and as her lips moved down into more of a confused scowl than a frustrated one, her eyebrows went to opposite direction. They looked like halved lemon wedges inching toward her brain. "'Human Anatomy and Physiology'? Are you trying to become an overnight brain surgeon? We only need volunteers to apply bandages."

I avoided eye contact. "Anything worth doing is worth doing the best that you can."

"Hmm." I thought I saw a trace of a smile on her features. "So you do pay attention to my speeches. Well, there is a flaw in your logic. Improving means that the best you can do changes. So my advice to you is this: Do the best you can now, improve later, and then apply the new best."

I nodded hesitantly. She returned the nod, then snapped back to her traditional stance, which made it look like her underwear had run up suddenly and violently. As she departed in a disciplined march, she said: "Now replace those books in alphabetical order and get to the infirmary."

I didn't really make it that far.

Author's Note: I'm not back...but I'm not necessarily away anymore, either. I'll still be working on Mass Effect: From the Ashes, it's just taking far longer than I expected. In the meantime, I've pulled this out of my pocket. Hope you all enjoy it - I know it's already easier for me than FtA has become. I love both, but shorter chapters definitely appeal to me. Stay tuned.