Aaaaand here's the next update! For a few chappies, I shall update irregularly. Sorry. Whenever I get the chance to write, I'll just dash off a few chapters and have done with them. But for now: here's the next one! R&R!
Damn. You're still reading? I'd have thought that you would have realized this is not a good book. Put it down. Close it out. Come on! I mean seriously, this is a very bad book. I don't recommend you reading it; it may put bad images on your mind.
Anyway, I was writing the next chapter for this book. Of my life. And I realized something: you don't know why you shouldn't be reading this!
So here's why. Remember when I said that Dylan's parents co-run that company MacroCorps? Well, MacroCorps has a very…sinister…true purpose. I looked it up. For normal people, MacroCorps is a technology company. But in reality, they're a very, very, very dangerous cat to play with.
What's so dangerous, you may ask? Well, the only way to find out…is to read on…
But seriously, don't read this book.
I was in the van for a few hours. We drove. And drove. The windows were tinted on the inside, and there was a wall separating me from the front. I couldn't see anything.
Finally, the van turned down a dirt or gravel road. I could feel the bumps and the uneveness.
Then we stopped. The guard—though I was now doubting that he was a guard—came around and opened the back. I expected him to cuff me or something, but he just waved me out.
"Come on, kid, I don't bite," he said. Then he saw what I was expecting. "No, no! I'm not a guard, kid. That was a…wass it called?…a façade. Yeah. That. Or something. A disguise of sorts, and now I'm here and I can show off my goatliness."
He took off his pants.
A simple phrase, but one that's hard to actually watch in real life. However, when they were off, I didn't see boxers and legs. No.
I saw fur. And hooves.
He laughed at my shocked expression. "Can I just say, kid, that there's not been a single camper who hasn't been stunned at the fact that I'm a satyr?"
"Satyr?"
"Half-goat, half-man."
"Oh."
He gave me a change of clothes. I got rid of the prison outfit.
"Come on," he said, waving me toward the direction the van was pointing. "Let's talk to the horse."
I followed him up a hill. At the top, he said, "I, Gleeson Hedge, keeper, give permission to Brett Rilder to enter Camp Half-Blood."
Then he walked past a huge tree, and I followed him.
And we were in Camp.
Camp was…how do I say it. Amazing? Incredible? Unbelievable? Awesome?
You get the idea. Anyway, I followed Gleeson to a big house, which he said was the Big House. Oh gee. Ya think?
As we walked through Camp, he gave me a running commentary of this, that, and the other thing. There was a climbing wall with real lava, a fighting arena, (which he said was his favorite), and tons and tons of different colored cabins.
We got up to the porch of the big house. On the porch was a 'motley crew'. There was: a fat, blotchy, sunburned guy in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, a blonde girl with a bright orange shirt on, knife strapped to her belt, another half-goat, pantsless again, with a green rasta cap on, and last but not least: a centaur.
A centaur. A half-horse, half-man kinda thing, holding cards. Actually, they were all holding cards, some kind of card game.
Gleeson said, "Hey everyone! It's our newest camper, Brett!"
Different responses. The girl waved, the satyr shook my hand and said, "Hi, my name's Grover Underwood," the centaur kinda saluted in this weird way, and the fat guy took a sip of Diet Coke and pointedly looked the other way.
Cheery.
The centaur glared at him. He groaned. "Fine,. Welcome to Camp, Brittney. Blah blah blah. Not happy to meet you."
"My name's Brett," I said. "You like, just heard my name. Come on."
He glared at me. "Silence, child. I am—"
"Yes, yes," the centaur interrupted him. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Brett. Annabeth, take him on the tour, will you?"
She glanced at her watch. "Um, Percy's gonna get here in five minutes. Could Grover—"
"Sure, I'll do it," the satyr said. "I was losing anyway." He tossed his cards on the table and walked off the porch with me.
Now, I don't want to bore you, so I'll just say that the tour went well. I'm sure you big hot-shots know all about Camp already. So yeah.
Anyway, I got chucked in the Hermes cabin, which he said used to be really really full, but now that the gods had made some sort of promise or whatever, most of the unclaimed campers had a cabin.
So I got a bunk. It was actually the last one. By the time the cabin went out to do their training time in the arena, I'd lost my wallet, my cap, and a belt. Anyway, we went to the arena and someone gave me a sword.
"Well, campers," the two leaders of the cabin said in unison. "Today we're going to be training with swords."
Their names were Travis and Connor. I suspected that they were the ones who'd stolen my stuff.
"But that's what we do every day!" someone called out. "And why isn't Percy here?"
Travis winced. "Percy is in the big city for some very important reasons. Okay? And he's gonna be back any day…"
A new voice shouted from across the arena. "Travis! Why are you teaching the class?"
A tall, strong-looking guy with black hair and green eyes walked across the arena. A sword appeared in his hands.
Travis relaxed. He ran up to the guy and gave him a huge, dramatic hug. "Oh, thank the gods, it's Percy Jackson, twice Savior of Olympus, slayer of the Minotaur, Arachne, Kronos, Kelli, and thousands more monsters! Here to save the day!"
He detached from Percy. As the guy walked toward us, Travis winked from behind him, hands full of stuff. A watch, a wallet, a knife, belt, keys, phone, and a pack of Kleenex.
Percy, oblivious, took a stance. "Alright, guys, first thing today is gonna be—"
"Excuse me, Percy," someone said. "I got a new knife today. Could you take a picture?"
"Um,sure?" Percy said, confused by the request. He reached into his pocket. Then he whipped around and glared at Travis, whose hands were behind his back innocently.
"Fuck you, Stoll," he groaned. "Why? Oh gods."
Travis took his hands from behind his back. They were empty. Then he reached into Percy's pocket and pulled out the phone. Then the keys. He reached into the other pocket and pulled out the wallet and Kleenex. He grabbed the watch from Percy's ear and the belt was around his waist again.
He laughed at Percy's shocked look. "Come on," he said. "I'm just that good."
Percy shook his head. "So good you're gonna get yourself killed sometime," he said.
Travis shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet."
"Though Katie tries hard enough," Connor said.
Percy cleared his throat. "Okay! Back to swordfighting."
That night at the Campfire, during the singing, a red glow came from somewhere above me. I looked up, but I couldn't see anything.
The other campers stopped singing and looked at me. Some pointed, some whispered. I kept trying to see what it was, but I didn't see it.
Chiron came forward. "You have been claimed," he said solemnly. This was it. Who was my godly parent? "All hail Brett Rilder. Son of Ares."
Aaaaand that's a wrap! How was? Good? Bad? Stupid? Genius? Tell me tell me tell me! Come on, I'm waiting for some reviews!
Sorry, but the first two chapters were boring as Asphodel. They had to be, cause they were that hated and feared substance known as filler.
Anyway, the next chappie promises to be filled with villains, 'venture, and vauntable verbosities!
Farewell, my good people!