A/N:

Mr.P3pp3r: Oh. my. Yogurts! I just figured it out! The secret to the universe: How to make the best flamberge in existence! Do pardon me while I get some grapefruits! *Chainsaw sounds fading off into the distance, followed by the braying of an ass.*

Lance: And he's gone. Just like that. So….. I've no idea what to do now. He didn't give me a script. I guess I'll just say neither of these authors claim to own the two series they're writing about, because gods help us all if that one ever gets the rights to either of them. (Proceeds to point at Mr.P3pp3r in the distance. Vague sounds of incoherent shouting can be heard)

Goodsir: And who the hell are you? *Dies with a cloth held to face.*

Reviews:

Percyofhellhounds: You are beautiful. Period. You are the first legitimate reviewer who has provided us with genuine criticism. Thank you for your contributions. I will live the rest of my days following your words. That aside, we will try to make things more clear as time goes on. I always thought my over-descriptive writing was boring…

We had to deal with the monsters more. Night had fallen and I was just finishing my shift for guard duty. For the past three days we'd been moving west, following rumors of settlements trying to start in the west. Along the way we had a few skirmishes with bandits, and the occasional brush with god church.

The monsters? Every night we had at least one run in with them, be it a pack of their black werewolves (seriously, we need a name), some of their black boars, or even a flock of black (it's not even funny any more, just racist) ravens. As we moved further and further away, though, I started to see a pattern. They were older, too. More experienced than the younger monsters we'd always run into back in a city. Still, with Kronos they were easy enough to deal with. I just had to be more careful when dealing with them.

As I went back to my makeshift room, formerly a phone booth, I grabbed two cans of food, and two bottles of water. You see, I had a guest in my room… my brother, actually. Yeah, I didn't know about him, either. But he was my brother. At least, that's what he called me when we first met. During the trips I would carry him on my back, and he'd spend his time sleeping and recovering, so I wasn't able to get much out of him aside that his name was Lance. We'd gotten him into new clothes, and when I had free time I would try and help him recover his strength. Bran, Gwen, and John would do the same whenever I couldn't on my own. However, the water didn't seem to heal him much… perhaps he was just a relative?

Slowly I opened the door, sneaking a look to see if he was asleep. Oddly enough, he wasn't. He was just staring at the ceiling with a dead look in his eyes, lying still in his cot. "Lance," I asked. Some life returned to his eyes and he snapped to the door. A weak smile grew on his face. Seeing as how I wouldn't be disturbing him, I entered. I handed him a water bottle, and sat down next to him. Slowly we'd been feeding him food, going one spoonful at a time. The first few tries he'd vomit out the food, drink some water, and go to sleep. It was only at noon today that he'd managed to keep one spoonful of food down.

"Hey, man. You doing alright?" I asked him as he began to sip the water. "I am." he croaked out. His voice sounded like sandpaper dragged across tree bark, but then again he'd been in a monster's hive for a good while, if I had to guess. "You mind if I ask you a couple of questions?" I asked, opening one of the cans, and spooned some food in his mouth. He swallowed it all, nodding as he did, and listened.

I sighed, not knowing where to start. I wanted to ask him how he'd survived in a monster nest like that, or how he got there in the first place. I wanted to know how much experience he had as a demigod, how he knew of me, and… how we were brothers.

"Lance… are we really brothers?" I began, my voice edge and cautious as I asked him. I wanted to know if we were really related, if he simply called people 'brother' or 'sister,' or if it had been a slip of the tongue. He nodded.

"When I was born, Father was worried that Zeus would have targeted us the same way he did with Hades' children." Lance began, turning to me and staring at me with a level gaze. "So when I was born, he gave me to Zeus as a sort of peace offering, much like what Zeus did with Jason." I winced slightly as hearing Jason's name. "Zeus agreed to spare you and Mother, and left me in the care of his Myrmidons." Lance swallowed again, looking a tiny bit better than he did three days ago.

"So I grew up on Mount Olympus, trained by the Myrmidons in basic sword skill when I was seven. During those seven years, Father made three visits to inform me of both you and Mother. The first was about how you'd fought a Fury and lived. The second was about how you fought off a hellhound on your own. The third… was when Zeus blamed you for stealing his lightning bolt. So every chance I could, I would try to see what you were doing during your quest."

He took another small drink of water before continuing. "Brother, when I saw you I was filled with wonder, pride, and joy. You'd slain Procrustus, you'd infiltrated the Underworld, and fought Ares one-on-one, and defeated him. From that point on, I had wanted to be just like you." I could tell he was trying his best to grin, but could only manage the same smile from before. However, I felt something grip my heart worse than ice. It hurt, and the more I listened the more the pain grew. I had a brother, and I never knew about him. Why hadn't Mom told me? Lance seemed to notice this, and said, "Brother, when I was taken, Father had used Mist to alter both your memories. He didn't want you trying to look for me in fear Zeus would strike us all down."

I blinked, letting the message go to my head. "When you returned the bolt to Zeus, Father had wanted to tell you about me, but Zeus had already threatened both you and Mother before you arrived. After you left, Zeus had become afraid of you."

"Afraid of me?" I asked. I was… Very confused at this point. Didn't really know how to respond to any of these things. Was this… was this real?

Lance nodded. "It was that prophecy. He feared that you would tear down Olympus. So he had the Myrmidons cease training me in sword-skill, and focus more on magic and magical manipulation." By now, Lance had begun to sweat. I wanted to hear the rest of the story, but I didn't want Lance to strain himself.

"Lance, get some rest. We can finish this later." I said, moving to get up. But Lance held onto me, keeping me in place… No, not physically. The look in his eyes, pleading me to stay, kept me from going. "I'll be fine brother." Lance tried to assure me, but he was looking a little feverish. I managed to get him to sip some more water before continuing. That seemed to help a bit.

"So for five more years, I had trained as a magic user. Because I had father's blood in me, water magic was better suited for me, but I could get by with other magical abilities. It got to the point that the Myrmidons had to ask a minor godling that followed Hecate to train me. I never had free time to practice what I learned, because in those five years, I had also been called upon Hera to aid with the newborn godlings until they grew into adulthood a few weeks later."

I drank everything he said in. While I had been escapading around on quests and having a girlfriend, Lance, my own brother, had been stuck under Zeus' eye and been kept away. "Though, that didn't stop me from watching and learning about everything you did." Lance stated, his hand going back to his side. "Whenever I was with the godlings, I would use what little power in scrying I had to watch you on your quests. What I couldn't see I learned from the other gods talking." Even though his voice was hoarse, and he was sweating even more, he sounded so proud of me. The pain on my heart grew more, tightening my chest and bringing another tear to my eye. However, as much as I wanted to believe his story, there wasn't much proof.

I had never hated Zeus so much until then. What right did he have to keep my brother locked away? King of the gods, pheh. More like King of the Assholes. Zeus was no better than the monsters I had fought. At least the monsters were easy enough to learn. Zeus had power and hung it over everyone's head whenever he had the chance. I couldn't stand him when I first met him, and I couldn't stand the thought of him now. If Zeus were alive, I didn't care if it would have been suicide I would have given him something to fear.

"It was during your time with the Romans that I had been allowed to go on my first quest. It was Hera that instructed me to help search for you. I had wanted to find you, make you proud of me, and earn the right to be your brother, that I began searching right away. I made sure to ask every god I could about your last known location before going off to find you."

My heart hit the top of my throat so hard I nearly broke down in tears right there. Lance had no reason to search for me, we had never been together at all. And yet he was willing to look for me even when I had no idea who he would have been. And earning the right call himself my brother… I was glad Zeus was dead now, otherwise I'd take Kronos and finish what my grandfather failed to do. At least, in taking down Zeus. I would have had someone else take over as king, most likely Dad, or Athena. More probably Athena, since Dad never even once mentioned anything, anything about Lance. I could understand why he did something like that, but still, dropping a hint or two would have been appreciated.

"Lance, seriously you need to rest." I said, trying to coerce him into resting. He didn't need to stress himself this much. I had just found out I had a brother. Family. Another demigod. Someone I could actually care for in this dead world. I wasn't going to give him up so easily. Lance shook his head, still smiling, but was practically coated in sweat now. "Do not worry about me, brother. I can handle it." I wanted to argue, to say that he didn't need to push himself so hard for me. But I couldn't speak. The words caught in my throat with the rest of my heart, and I was sure that if I tried to speak I would either roar a cacophony of curses at Zeus' memory or cry and beg forgiveness from Lance. I'm sure he would want neither right now.

Lance sighed as he noticed my anguish. "Brother, please… I need to do this." He startled me when he said that, like he thought he was going to die soon.

"After you had been located, I was called back to Olympus. It was there I was given my second mission: to investigate a rumor about the Doors of Death. I was sent with a squad of Myrmidons, and we'd find the doors, right where you came out from Tartartus. But it was a trap." A tear welled up in his eye as he continued.

"The Myrmidons were slaughtered, and I was taken captive and brought to Nyx. Brother, I witnessed horrors worse than anything in Tartarus, possibly even worse than Tartarus himself. But she kept me there, torturing me for years, going out of her way to break me to learn what I knew. Time had no meaning there. A day here could have been a century there and you would not have noticed. She tried everything she knew, even going as far as to drag before the edge of Tartarus and promised to drop me if I didn't speak. She almost broke me… had I not learned if you defying her. I heard about what you did, how you tricked her and all her children, and I knew I had to be strong, like you. She brought her anger out on me, but I thought of what you did, and that strengthened me. I was in pain, but I knew you would succeed." The tear fell down, a sense of pride emanating from him. "After Gaea fell, Nyx had one final strategy, one final trick to try and win. She used her own essence to create a new species of monster, one specifically designed to kill humans. And she wanted to keep me alive to witness your downfall. But I knew you wouldn't, and you even rescued me in the process." He turned to look me on the eye as he said, "Thank you." After that, he fell asleep almost instantly, the talk having drained him off his strength.

I took a breath outside the room. Was that all real? Was there an ounce of truth within his words? I couldn't find out for sure, but… he'd been pretty safe the entire time, while we fought the enemies…

I shook my head. Whether or not he was my brother: a demigod, one of the last ones, was worth keeping alive. My species, as a fucking whole, was basically extinct. Nothing left other than me, maybe a couple stragglers, and a guy who called me brother. It didn't matter if he was really my brother, it didn't matter if he was just some delusional kid obsessed with the stories of Percy Jackson, but protecting your own species was a damn right cause.

"Issues?" John breathed.

I nodded.

"Jeez. Who knew you'd find family in a nest, eh?" I knew John's voice was filled with regret. We'd all dreamt of saving our family and loved ones from the monsters and the explosions.

"Hey, let's call a meeting. I wanna discuss some things is all."

John nodded and whistled the other leaders over. There was a large but rusty white tent that was their unofficial headquarters, with a table and map and everything. It would be cool though, if we had those broom thingies they use in world war 2 to push around toy soldiers. Yep, next time we had materials, I was going to build one!

Gwen brushed her hair back as she was seated in the light wooden chair. Bran brushed his own hair back, turning to face us.

"How's the kid doing?"

"Unresolved family issues. Other than that, fine."

"Can he fight like you?" Bran asked.

Everyone paused. I… didn't exactly know. Kept around by Zeus, eh? Probably not the best place to train. In the case of the group... if "Lance" had decent camp level training, it'd be a huge tip in the balance of power. Hell, even with me, I dominated the fighting ability of every single one of us. Another (younger) me would completely tip the scales in my favour, and from our little chat earlier, it was pretty clear whose side he was on.

"Never asked." I replied.

"Who is he?" Gwen interrogated.

"Extended family. Wasn't aware until recently." I replied.

Gwen frowned, clearly unsatisfied. In this room, there was no need for jokes. Every single word was important, and extra talk was a complete waste of time. It was clear she couldn't deal with this problem now, not when the survival of our group was at stake.

There was a long silence, where nobody really looked at each other. The tension was high, with all of us either frustrated or plain tired.

John broke the silence. "We have to start planning for the settlement." We nodded in unison. While most had survived thus far, most of the people were still fairly untrained in the arts of survival. Opening cans and finding shelter really wasn't a chore. Bran was an accountant, therefore handling most of the supplies and rations. Gwen was… she had no specialties, but you really didn't need that to lead a group. She naturally took care of the people, helping them cope with the stress, therefore a first choice of the people.

John was sort of the leader and most favoured, being a fairly tactical thinker in all aspects, taking many different approaches and analyzing enemies. He usually specialized in close quarters combat, taught by yours truly to protect everyone when guns couldn't do so.

Me? I was the general! I trained everyone in the ways of combat, and led the assault. In recent cases, we had a much higher success rate, with two or three able to take down a single wolf. A full squad of five could handle one of those bears! They weren't fighting material, and we didn't have the proper nutrition for fighters, but they would do for now.

Gwen… ah, she was also some scientist too! Probably knew a lot of botany and biology, by the looks of it. Gwen had the least evident specialty, but science was something we definitely needed when we finally could settle down. Don't want people worshipping fire again, right?

I stood up and left, but not before reassuring them I would teach some survival skills.

"Take up arms, my brothers, for this heathen shall last no more!"

I sighed as I bisected another cultist, seriously, was there no end to these guys? What gave them the idea to worship monsters?

I returned to the campsite we set up, and helped up some guy to stand. We started work on removing and packing up the various tents and makeshift houses, assigning different loads to everyone.

John came over and tossed a can of peaches at me. I caught the food midair, but John tossed me another can, supposedly for Lance. I grabbed some cloth, just in case… you know, vomiting. I held the can to his lips, and Lance cracked his weak eyes open, slurping in some of the contents. Luckily, only a few dribbles of liquid ran down his cheeks, and he hurriedly reached up to wipe it. I stopped him before wiping his face anyways, you couldn't really give a bath to someone who was lying on a bed constantly.

"Can you walk? We're leaving."

Lance nodded and stood up.

"We gotta pack first, we can talk later." Lance agreed again.

I folded some sheets of metal and wood, chucking them away to some random place. One debate we held was to bring scraps for building or not, and it resulted in bringing most of the tools and screws and stuff, but we were going to bring some of the junk over. One plan the carpenters came up with was the wall, something they tested could stand up reasonably well to monster blunt force attacks.

As our little "caravan" was up and ready to go, with bagels to boot, I waved some mist over me and Lance, hopefully concealing any trace of conversation. Lance noticed the gesture, and relaxed his tongue.

"Lance… as reasonable as your explanation sounds… I have no proof."

Lance was silent, but obviously still confident, probably some good evidence.

"Brother, you remember the first time mother baked blue cookies? Around when you were five years old?"

I was confused. "Yeah, she baked like, thirty of them."

"How many did you eat?"

I was silent for a second… 5? 6? 7?

"You ate seven. Mother made those to teach counting, right? I remember that clear as day, and I ate three cookies, remember? There were twenty left over. I knew Zeus would never be that careful about details."

My eyes widened as I remembered that there were only two rows of cookies left, and mom obviously didn't eat any. And come on, Gabe would never eat anything blue related.

That was obviously enough detail to ensure that he was my brother.

I nodded at Lance. Despite me probably never going to recover the lost memories of my childhood, we were all brothers in arms! Alright, that sounds a bit too cheesy, but screw it.

"How'd you get Kronos' scythe?" Lance asked.

"Found it in a pile of bodies."

Lance curled his lips in distaste at the imagery, but shut up regardless. Well, that was it. Except one last test… I unsheathed the broken riptide, which I had picked up on my recent trip to the nest. Riptide… riptide. Dad always tried to ensure that the blade would never fall into the hands of the enemy, and installed a fucking return spell that would ensure it would always come back to my pocket in pen form. Dad also installed a DNA scanner… don't ask.

However, that spell broke when the sword did. So it wasn't much use to me, anymore. I held the now useless blade to Lance. He looked over out of curiosity. When he saw the blade, his eyes widened. I couldn't tell of it was fear, shock, or a mixture of both. "Is that…?" His voice trailed off, his gaze never leaving the blade. "Riptide," I confirmed, tossing the sword so that the handle was now facing Lance. "Dad gave this to me so that I could protect myself."

Lance caught the blade, his eyes running over every minute detail. He cringed a little when he got to the broken edge. I wondered if he felt sorry for me, but if he did then I didn't need his pity.

"Just don't touch the scythe, alright?" I said.

The guy nodded quickly, his eyes already going back to what remained of Riptide. He traced with blade's edge softly, as if he were afraid he'd break what remained of it. "Never see a sword before?" I jokingly asked him.

"I have, but to see Father's gift shattered… I never thought I'd see such a thing." Quickly he drew back his hand, shaking it a little. It was then I realized that in his enamored state he had nicked himself. A small drop of blood grew on his finger, and he began to suck on the wound.

Lance held the sword back out to me, but I waved my hand. "You keep it. Figured it would be best for you right now until we get you trained for a real weapon." Lance was stunned for a moment, before taking the ruined blade and pocketing it in his bag, throwing a nod of appreciation my way. I returned the nod and dropped the Mist. I don't know what the others saw while the Mist influenced their vision, but I did know that whatever it was, it wasn't what we discussed.

Later on that night, we had set up camp around five in the evening. Raiders weren't as common in the forests as they were in the city ruins, and only a handful of monsters, by comparison, stalked the woods as well. So the de facto leaders - myself, Gwen, Bran, John, and Jessie - had elected to stop to let the engineers in our large group try out a couple of ideas. Three teams of five were then sent out into the woods to establish a perimeter and to patrol for any nearby monsters. Each person had been trained well and were ready, while the others that had wanted to fight but lacked the experience (including my brother, though a demigod he may be), gathered around for our next training session.

The few experienced people that we had remaining at camp helped out, mostly to relieve me of the stress of dealing with so many whiners. Not everyone was capable of being a warrior, but we still needed everyone pulling their share, and unless they could actually understand and use mental math the engineers used, they were stuck with me.

For the first half-hour, I tutored four people - two older men, a mother that lost her husband to the monsters when this all first started, and a teenager - on the advanced techniques before having them join the rest of the trainees for sparring. It was the only way I knew they would practiced what they learned, because we had a system in place: trainees would use what they learned and tried to last as long as they could against an instructor. It wasn't perfect, but it hammered the idea that they needed to keep these skills as sharp as a sword if they wanted to survive. Even then, I never actually sparred with them. No mortal could ever hope to achieve the level of battle-experience a demigod was at. Even demigods that had no idea what was going on had better chances at surviving against monsters than a regular mortal, because that is what we were born to do.

I pulled myself from my thoughts, looking over my shoulder to see Lance watching everything. His eyes were like a hawk's as he gazed intently at each trainee, trying to decipher the moves they were using. He looked just like Annabeth when she had been presented with a puzzle. Eyes glaring at every detail, noting as much as they could while rapidly scanning over everything as a whole. It was a look I myself have been known to show more than once, but never with as much… enthusiasm as her. Now I guess I could say Lance was the same way.

I made my way over to him, taking a slow pace to relax my heartbeat and let my body regain what little energy it lost. That was another thing about us demigods, we were prone to faster rejuvenation. The godly blood that flowed through us, the very same blood that let us consume the food and drink of the gods - ambrosia and nectar, respectively - also made us more durable. Demigods caught their breath faster, dealt with pain faster, even learned to cope with disabilities faster.

The seat next to him was empty. I would have asked if he minded, but the way he was staring so intently at the sparring lessons gave me the idea that he wouldn't have minded. So I sat next to him, watching with him, occasionally glancing at him. Every once in awhile, whenever a trainee was knocked down, Lance would flinch a little, but he never once moved more than that.

Finally, after letting him gawk for a few minutes, I felt like it was time to break the ice. "You learning anything," I questioned. Absently he nodded, not even bothering to speak. "You know, I hear that learning physical moves goes much better when you actually practice them," I informed, heavily hinting that he join them.

"I would, but I'm not used to training with so many people," he finally admitted, taking his eyes off the trainees and placing them on me. "All my training has either been one-on-one or in a small, secluded group. I'm… I'm not sure how I would handle being around so many people. My social skills aren't exactly well-built."

Ah, so he was nervous, and had a little stage fright. A moment later would have found me telling him that it'd be better for him if he just went in and joined, when I happened to glance over to find Lance's eyes had glazed over, staring at the dirt. He shivered slightly, arms tucked in and holding each other, and he rocked back and forth lightly. Immediately I was right next to him, hand on his forehead. He didn't have a fever, and his skin hadn't lost color.

At that point I didn't know what to do, so I did what came naturally. My hands were on his shoulders, and I was rocking him back and forth. "Lance… Lance! What's happening?" He wouldn't stop shivering, so I did what else came naturally. My hand was a blur as it raced across his face, a light slap to get his attention. It worked, thankfully. His eyes snapped back to the reality around him, and he stopped shaking. For a second they searched around, as if they were trying to find something. Then, they settled on me.

It was like looking in a mirror when I saw his eyes. Sometimes Annabeth used to tell me that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and that whenever she looked into mine she saw something brave and warm and kind in there. But whenever I looked into them, especially within the past few days, I saw nothing but darkness behind them, as if every drop of innocence had been sucked from my soul. It was the kind of look I had seen Luke with when he told me of his plan to overthrow the gods. All the times he wanted me to join him, I had thought it was because the prophecy was about me, but now I guess it was because we had the same exact look. The look of a killer. Now was I bothered by this fact? No, I was not. At first I was, but the more I fought monsters, the more I realized and accepted that to fight a monster you had to become a sort of monster yourself, just to the point that you could handle them. After my third year at camp, I focused more on fighting, because I knew that monsters weren't going to give me a second chance.

Seeing Lance with that same expression, it left me wondering just how alike we were. From what I could gather, he was as green as grass when it came to combat, but guts and steel seemed to be with him just fine. I'm willing to bet they didn't sugarcoat his time on Olympus, not with Zeus around anyway.

I stood up and gathered a black suitcase from the pile of stuff we collected. I was pleased to find a black foam pad inside, and placed the various shards of Riptide back in. Lance glanced at how the sharp metal pressed into the soft padding, and looked away. I put the case in my pile of luggage, and tugged on the crystal bracelet (who knew Kronos was this girlish?), letting it become Kronos. I swung the thing a couple of times, and looked at Lance.

"I'll walk you through some basic training, then specialized. Oh, and what type are you?" I asked.

"Type B."

Interesting… Type B demigods were a different and rarer type of demigod. Their body was 50% godly energy, however it greatly strained their bodies. They also couldn't control their domains as well… However, that was made up by the ability to use godly energy as different magic styles. At least, we called it magic. Usually made the idea easier. In other words, they were either the "support" or "glass cannon" role in our armies.

Most type Bs came from the Apollo cabin. They could use it for better healing (that guy cured like 50 gunshot wounds), but were much worse fighters. The type Cs, like me, however, had their domain abilities, better fighting skill, and used prayers to the gods for their more magical abilities.

Ha, betcha Rick didn't tell you that, right? Yeah, it was some classified shit.

There hadn't been any record of a type B Poseidon demigod… Zeus, however, had a couple, and there was that kid in the orientation film who shot a beam of concentrated energy to disintegrate a pack of hounds… In short, they were the "mages" of the demigods, lessening the support work of the fighters. Since a single type B Apollo demigod could heal hundreds of wounded by themselves, we could put more of the type C Apollo kids in a battle.

The Hermes and Hades type Bs could teleport...

The Ares type Bs could empower their allies…

The Athena type Bs had minor telepathy…

The Aphrodite type Ds could appear in half divine form...

The Zeus, Dionysus, and Demeter type Bs could disintegrate their foes…

Type As and Ds, you ask? Fuck those guys, I don't even want to talk about them. Type As and Ds were all huge dicks, regardless of their gender. Seriously, fuck those guys. I locked up the black case, and looked at the kid.

"Alrighty then… well, let's do some warm-ups first, then we'll try to get you in shape."

Lance looked confused as I pushed myself up. "Warm-ups? What- what do you mean warm-ups?"

I smiled, having to turn myself away lest I give him a scare. "You're going to train." I put it simply, because I wanted him to be in fighting shape. Demigods lead by example, so Lance training and improving himself would be a huge benefit for the other trainees. Type B demigods were horrible in hand-to-hand combat, so if Lance could improve then everyone could improve.

The look he gave me was absolutely priceless. A mixture of fear, regret, and a small amount of anxiety plastered onto his face was just too memorable. Come on, Percy. Keep it together. Don't scare him away just yet, I mentally chided myself.

~Lance~

Come on, Lance. He's just one person… Okay, yeah that's not going to work, I mentally cursed, barely reacting quickly enough to deflect another blow from my brother. His strikes were like Hephaestus' hammer working metal, and each time I blocked directly my arms rattled. My brother, having thought the idea to be quite hilarious, had given me the benefit of practicing after everyone else had left. Better to dodge next time.

My lungs burned, my vision was blurred by sweat, and I was at the point of falling over from sheer exhaustion. My brother was a madman! No one, demigod or mortal, had that kind of stamina! Whereas I was drenched from head to toe, Perseus had his practice sword slung over his shoulder, looking as if he were enjoying a nice day at a park instead of teaching me how to fight.

The only reason I had managed to last this long was because my godly half kept me aware of my surroundings, even when on the brink of fainting. I couldn't even speak I was so weak. The most I could get out was the occasional grunt as Percy 'took it easy' on me. Personally, it felt as if it were a punishment.

"You doing alright?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked me over. I nodded, gripping the sword as best I could. There was no way I was going to come even close to my brother, but if there was one trait every demigod shared, it was stubbornness. I had too much pride in myself and my brother to give up. That, and I'm sure that if I tried Perseus would instill as much 'discipline' in me as he could. I let the godly energy, or what little that remained, wash over me. It didn't heal any wounds, but the exhaustion was no longer as bad.

Despite everything, I nodded. The smile he gave was an apologetic one, which meant I was in for a shit show, but at least he gave warning. Brother was a blur as he rushed towards me, every movement prepared and tensed for a fight. Oh yeah, I wasn't anywhere near close. The best I could do was try and deflect one last blow. I raised my sword as best I could, but I wasn't fast enough for a deflect, and ended up just minimizing the blow against my body. Percy's practice sword and mine collided, mine being pushed against my chest and stomach, and knocking the wind from my feet. The force behind the blow had lifted me off my feet. The world spun before I found myself colliding with the ground. Hard.

I couldn't see much beyond the sweat, pain, and tears, but I did see a person enter my vision. Most of me thought it was Percy, but there was that one part of me that though Thanatos had finally come to claim me. "You did good," I heard my brother's voice say. It sounded distant and echoed, like he was shouting through a cave.

I felt the ground leave my presence and my brother's form taking up more of my vision. It had taken me a moment to realize he had begun to carry me on his back. I wanted to thank him, but only weak whines of pain could make it.

Percy chuckled (at least, I assumed he was chuckling) as he brought me back to our room. Never before was a bed so inviting to me. Unfortunately, My body refused to move at all. My brother seeme to understand this, and promptly dumped me on my bed. A slur of curses flew through my mind, each trying to find a way out, but everything ached. Not even my time with the Myrmidons was this taxing.

Sleep was fast encroaching me, taking me into a blissful, dreamless, oblivion that would allow me respite. However, before I was taken fully, I heard Perseus speak to me, giving me one final instance of fear. "That was a good start. Next time we'll have to take it up a notch." Did he know no bounds?

~Percy~

I watched as Lance practically fainted on his bed. Kid was good for going at it his first time. He still had a long way to go before I would ever consider sending him against one of the newborn monsters. Still, at least when he was ready it would be nice to have some backup I would be able to completely rely on, for a change. I knew pushing people to their hardest wasn't that effective as it sounded. Making your trainees fall asleep in exhaustion meant their bodies were being worked too hard, and their muscles were slowly destroying themselves and becoming stronger, BUT that there muscles were not healing in enough time to actually make a difference on their bodies. If only I had some ambrosia…

The others were great when they were in a group, but where I could take on multiple monsters at once, it took three (two if the situation was good) of our strongest people after myself to take on one wolf. I know, demigods born to fight monsters blah blah blah… but still, having another demigod that would at least be competent enough to take on, say, three of the wolves would be just fantastic.

As I lay on my bed, listening to Lance snore through his exhaustion, my mind began to wonder about what would happen next, if we did manage to get a settlement up and running. I did the workshop on making a fire AGAIN, just to take some of the boredom off my mind. After that, Jessie showed me more sewing, since I'd forgotten most of the stuff I learned in camp.

Camp… I know I wasn't there most of the year, but I was there far longer than most people believed. In school, I tried to be human. However, with the weight of the prophecies, there was always the fear of being not good enough to defeat Kronos and Gaea or just tackle the next quest. So, I usually cut down school time… Let's say over 3 years of it with the mist, other reason being so my mom had less chance of being attacked. What? I wasn't just going to buy myself a place to live. I had basically no money, and Poseidon didn't seem willing to help. There was also the issue of bullies. After a while, I couldn't contain it anymore, and… Permanent damage was caused. Chiron was always such a bitch about it, saying attacking mortals was beneath us. I know, racism, right? The fuck, if I wanted to be human i would act like one. I was a son of Poseidon, and never excelled in emotional control anyways.

Me and mom also spoke less than what I told Annabeth. I had a suspicion she knew, but never brought up the topic. Fuck, here I am, thinking about the shit that was my life while beating a piece of flint and steel. Oh, but that's minecraft, you say? Well, it worked, and people use it all the time.

I fiddled with the bracelet again, feeling the white string and the crystals shake slightly in the wind. I pulled out a few threads of yarn, and started beading it, with whatever I could find. I looked at the disgusting piece of jewelry and threw it away, stomping on the piece of crap.

I fell asleep against a trunk that night.

-(00)-

I used yet another set of his own attacks against Lance, stunning the kid slightly. While I wasn't sure what to think about him, I had no other thoughts. It's strange, not being able to conjure any thought while having ADHD. Lance took several deep breaths, and gulped down some water. There was a visible change in his energy, being fueled once again.

I threw a punch, and then several other strikes. Lance was confused at first, but soon understood. This was a dodging exercise. It was always good to calculate which strikes could be taken without damage and which were best to dodge. There were brief moments where he seemed to flow like water, grasping some fundamentals of fighting. As short as they were, the two or so days of training had slight changes. He could utilize his instincts better, but the strategy part of fighting would come soon. I started bringing more variety into the strikes, going occasionally fast and sometimes slow. Lance fumbled and caught several strikes, and fell over. I splashed some water over him. After a short break, we would be having another spar, to see how he used those skills. I showed the other class yet another technique, and sat down. You really didn't use specific moves in small groups of fighters, it was better to just know what not to do and what should be done. Knowing the correct stance and timing and how to swing a sword was better than some fancy trick.

I paired Lance with some other kid, and whistled, marking the beginning of the match. Lance and the kid slowly approached each other, with both contenders starting to move left and right as they remembered some of my teachings. Kicks, pushes, and punches were thrown. Lance was a quick learner, but facing someone who had undergone more training was an impossible situation. The whole "fight" lasted around 27 seconds, mostly spent before the first attack. Lance eventually tired the other kid out, but it was technically a loss for him, since in skill he was at a loss. Lance seemed somewhat pleased with himself, and the other kid shook his hand. That was another thing about demigods. For some reason, we just seemed to have more stamina than humans, even if we were scrawnier.

I remembered outrunning everyone in grade 3 by 5 laps… Suck it, assholes.

Lance returned, and soon the group had prepared dinner while I boiled a bit of water. Lance seemed more lively than usual, probably the laughs and campfires and marshmallows. Don't ask where we found sticks… Those were a rarity.

"Cult!" Someone yelled.

I jumped out of my seat, and rushed to where the voice had come from. I stared in frustration as the convoy of vehicles approached us… The bastards. Lance ran with surprising agility, not even catching his breath.

"Get out! Everyone else with a gun, with me!" Lance looked at me, and I nodded. Fuck, anyone who could control water was an advantage.

One of our people fired a shell at the second vehicle, and chucked our last Molotov grenade at it. When it didn't quite explode, I fired two shots at it. The vehicle erupted in an explosion of petroleum-induced flames, and stopped a few others in their tracks. I rushed at the first one, and pulled the driver out of his seat. I killed the other without a thought moments later, tossing their loaded weapons away. I hopped out and swiped Kronos at its passengers, and with one strike, they all died. Lance took cover at the truck. Some of his bruises were healing… Healing. Was he being empowered by the darkness? Was this the result of staying in that cocoon? Lance looked pretty surprised himself, staring at his hands in wonder… I ripped off the car door from its hinges, and tossed the shield at Lance. He caught it, appearing to have no problems with it.

"Hide. If they show up, run or kill them with the shield." I ordered. Lance gulped in anxiety.

I dashed to the third truck, it's passengers getting ready to unload or provide cover fire. I roared, and Kronos glowed with gold energy. The truck was sliced apart seconds later, and I looked at the dead humans. If only they weren't insane…

I jumped back as a bullet almost pierced my shoulder, thank you demigod reflexes for dodging bullet! I grimaced and blocked another large bullet with Kronos, and fired towards the rifleman. I heard a squelching sound somewhere distant… So I guess I hit the target? I had no clue. While my first experience avoiding bullets was that skeleton dude, I did just block it (something impossible for humans unless the guy aimed right where your sword was going). Riptide was a beast at directing energy away from my arms, and it seemed Kronos was as well. After that, Annabeth dragged me into the arena, "testing which caliber of bullet could make my arms shake for the entire day" and "testing how many consecutive rounds from an M16a1 i could dodge in one minute", and let me tell ya, it wasn't fun. Well, my speed went up A LOT after the exercise, but there was a reason we only used paintball guns and crossbow bolts to test speed.

Seeing the new exercise opportunity, I hopped in front of one of my trusty allies, and parried an unfortunate bullet away from his position. The man looked surprised, but continued once realizing that I was blocking him away from any harm. He fired over my shoulder, and I ducked low to make sure I wasn't reduced to Percy-pasta. I sped forward and slid under a truck, disemboweling a poor cultist. Fuck, there was a wealth of them left, and we were barely holding the position.

Billy started up a truck, and our breaths stopped as a raging cultist charged him… For a moment, I thought there would be another casualty, but a resounding boom shook us. Gwen stood in the distance, watching through a scope as the cultist tumbled over and died… Lance was shielding himself against the repeated bashing of a cultist.

BOOM!

A resounding explosion of gore and blood painted the area. The cultist Lance had been holding out against had suddenly become a pasty paint. For a moment, Lance was confused for a moment, before he seemed to realize that the red coating his shield was what remained of the cultist. I thought he would have been sick, or shocked, or something. I thought I would've had to pull him off to the side and get him back to reality, but none of that happened.

If anything, he looked disappointed, like he wanted to see what he could do and wasn't able to practice in time. Again, what the hell? His eyes met mine and I gave him a silent order: talk later. He understood, and went to take cover behind another, better-looking vehicle. His shield was keeping him alive, blocking even the larger bullets, which he used to provide a sort of distraction. Myself and the others that had stayed behind fired on any cultist we saw, but they were too busy in trying to kill Lance to do much about it.

Another cultist had just fallen, shot down by one of the veterans of our group… I think his name was Cardin? Carl? It began with a C, I know that much. Anyway, as we fired on the cultists, Lance would occasionally make a shielded run from one car to another, cursing at the cultists and mocking them to keep their attention on him. I'll be the first to admit hearing the scrawny fourteen year old demigod calling the cultists' church 'failing,' and 'believing in two false gods that were equal to two steaming piles of shit.' That last one really got the cultists riled up. "Your soul shall be damned, heretic!" one of the cultists shouted as they fired their entire clip at Lance's position, mainly just hitting the car. "Oh look, a third of humanity's problems! How are you doing today?" Lance called back, sounding rather sarcastic.

One of my trainees grinned as he took out another cultist. Kronos was a blur as I blocked another bullet. Lance kept shouting curses. That's pretty much how the rest of the gunfight went.

GRRRR!

You know, I'm beginning to wonder if these things were designed specifically to always show up at the wrong time. All of us, including the remaining cultists, turned to face the newly arrived monsters. There was a much larger number of wolves, bears, and boars, each kicking up a cloud of dust behind them, giving the impression that a dust storm was coming in. It was a storm, alright, just not dust.

Lance was already joining us, his eyes wide as he stared at the cloud. Guess being around the monsters twenty-four/seven really left an impression on him, because all his bravado drained along with the color of his face. I placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him grounded. It did bring him back, but the color was still gone. Still, even I couldn't take on that many of them, even with the backup I had. "Alright, everyone! Let's get out of here!" I called, rounding up everyone from our group. The cultists looked like they were meeting their favorite celebrities. Good for them. That meant there were fewer people I had to worry about.

We grabbed what we could in supplies and weapons, and hightailed it out of there. The cultists made for a nice distraction for the monsters while we ran for our lives. Even though they were happy to die, I could still hear their screams of agony, even when we were a few hundred yards out. Guess they really enjoyed the monsters' company, even when being torn to shreds.

Still, it was enough for us to get a head start, and gave of plenty of time to catch up with the rest of the group. We weren't out of the woods yet… both literally and metaphorically. The veterans handed out as many weapons as possible, giving one to anyone that could fight. Even Lance managed to hold a gun properly.

The monsters were already charging at us by the time we'd prepared enough to fight back. Our engineers had been quick, establishing barricades from old metal and wood junk we'd collected. Everyone was scattered a little from each other, giving the others ample room to aim and fire.

I looked up and emptied a looted rifle. Lance had already planted his shield into the ground, riptide's pen form In his hands ready to spring out. I simply emptied my shotgun and started picking them off with Kronos, until a wolf ran up to Lance.

Almost like a bullet, Lance drew Riptide like a katana, cleaving the wolf into two. I whistled, and the kid looked quite sheepish at the end. Riptide's machinery could transform into a sword in nanoseconds, but to use that as an advantage was great. Too bad it wasn't a katana. Well, they weren't the best, and there was a reason why people use other swords too. A katana was a somewhat good sword, but there were other options with their own strengths and weaknesses. Demigods usually only used weapons invented in western civilization, and since the gods had been to all those places, demigods could master those specific weapons much quicker.

Halberds, tridents, longswords, yes, even assault rifles. But making celestial bronze alloy for bullets was just too damn hard. I grinned and finished off the last of the monsters.

-(00)-

Night had fallen quickly. The cracked moon hung still in the midnight sky, a constant reminder of what this world had become. We were out of the (barely) forested areas of what I had guessed to be Pennsylvania and more towards plains and flatlands. The trip from our large skirmish with the monsters had been a long one, but everyone had been quick to move, so we made some very good progress. At least half a day's walk had been covered in only hours, even with the engineers scavenging whatever they could after the battle. Empty weapons were kept for either spare parts, or for scrap metal once we had a place up and running, with a crafting station and everything.

We had set up camp at the crest of a large hill, plating makeshift walls and having plenty of people patrol and scout for any signs of monsters or cultists. For the most part, it looked like the bandit problem had died off easily enough, so I wasn't too worried about bandits. Yet.

It was at that moment that Lance and I had been resting in our room. Lance was on his bed, twirling Riptide's pen around in his hands, and I was sitting in an appropriated chair, cleaning my personal shotgun and pistol with my control of water, and a semi-clean rag. Already the signs of wear were beginning to show, with the shotgun's barrels having been warped and expanded at the ends and the pistol's firing pin was darkened. I cleaned off as much residue and built-up grime as I could, and dried off the pieces with my water control and the rag. Once both weapons were back together, I set them down and turned my chair to face Lance.

He already knew what I had planned on talking about, so he sighed in resignation and started off with, "You wanted to talk?" He didn't even look at me, just kept staring at the ceiling. A part of me was annoyed that he didn't look at me to talk, but the sympathetic part of me that had somehow survived this long knew he was nervous. "Yeah," I responded, leaning forward so that I could get a better bearing on Lance.

It worked, and he sat up, his eyes keeping on Riptide the whole time. At least he was facing in my direction. "So," I began. "Want to tell me about how you healed so quickly before?" Annabeth had always told me I had been completely blunt and never thought ahead, but I figured the best way to get information was to be upfront and direct. No pussyfooting around like politicians. Lance's head lowered. "I… I don't know," he grumbled. It was like talking to a seven year old that thought they were in trouble. I honestly couldn't give two shits if it was a power or if it was from having dealt with being in a nest for so long, so long as Lance didn't plan on using it against any of us.

"Okay, well then can you tell me how you possibly managed to watch someone explode and-" Wait. Survival… Fuck, I'd mistaken his ignorance of violence for insanity. Well, actually it was perfectly logical.

"Come on, I think you know the answer. I've seen a couple of videos too. If you just… If I was some random other teenager who played video games, or just about any other teenager, the worst reaction would be mild shock and surprise. Plus, I've seen worse."

I frowned. He did say something about being tortured… Well, that wasn't how trauma worked. I'd seen the most of it, being around war veterans and all. I remembered the first time I saw a demigod getting ripped apart… There was not much guilt, no anger and sadness, just… A little surprise and disgust at the smell. I visited his grave a few times, but it only gave me insight to the dangers of life.

It was different for everyone… Some people gained PTSD at mere car accidents, while for some, they were even happy after years of war. I guess I oversaw all these facts. But… Could it be that his mind simply became "immune" to violence and closed itself up to cope with the pain? I learned a few tricks from Mr. D, but I was no psychiatrist. Ah, well, if that wasn't the case, then it was merely the will to survive. The apocalypse had rebooted many of our minds, putting aside morals and petty violence for the drive to survive.

Well, you're no exception, right? Annabeth had told me, how our society was perfectly built in a way to combat mental illness derived from trauma. Gory fiction to build a resistance to violence, tragic tales to understand pain… There was only the few naive and fools who lived under rock, and those were the weak. Even after thousands of years, it was still the same rule… Only the strong live.

"Well… You have any ideas where it came from?" I asked.

Lance thought for a second. "Honestly, I thought it was pretty obvious. Does staying inside a cocoon meant to breed monsters help?"

I nodded. Well, it did make sense to a certain degree. "Let's test it." I smirked.

-(00)-

"Hell yeah!" Lance shouted happily as he punched the ground, creating several small webs of cracks.

Sigh…

Alright, maybe he also learnt faster in the night? I motioned the hyperactive Lance over, and got into fighting stance.

"Can you see properly?" I asked. Due to demigod senses, I could see pretty clearly, with all the stars and moon making decent lighting.

Lance nodded again, and got into stance. I repeated the basic hand-to-hand combat warm ups, and finished by showing Lance a few kicks as well. What fun to teach your sibling! In combat, everyone could sink in and forget their troubles. Of course, this wasn't always the best, as too much instinct based fighting could ruin tactics and logic. I could tell at this point, by the way he fiddled with his pockets, that he wanted to learn Riptide.

Without saying anything, I motioned for him to wait where he was, while I went over to grab one of our makeshift shields. Lance's look of confusion told me everything, so when I grabbed the shield and hurled it at him like a deadly Frisbee, I had half-expected him to duck, having his demigod instincts kick in, but he surprised me with this. Rather than duck down, Lance moved off to the side, catching the shield and spinning with it. He was nowhere near as reactive as this during the day. Must be the strange powers...

Still, he caught it which was pretty damn impressive. "What's this for?" he asked, looking the shield over with a scrutinizing gaze. "It's for our next practice session. You're going to use it in our spar after I teach you how to properly handle Riptide."

The look he gave in response could only be described as adorable. His eyes had gotten so large I felt he might shatter his skull, and the way tears welled up in them had me believe he might start crying any moment, now. But he kept himself strong and told me, "Are you serious? Oh hell yeah!" He pumped his fist in the air. I took a blunt weapon and a battle ready stance. Already Lance had the shield strapped to his arm and brought out Riptide, beaming with pride even though his blade was no more than a glorified dagger at this point.

"All right then, in this wasteland, you'll encounter many foes with combat experience, but rarely a real weapon." We'd gone over this plenty of times before, but I wanted him to be at his peak performance in our spar. Something told me that it would be interesting this time around. So I went through the basic exercises again, from the proper stance to the way a sword was meant to be held. Lance went through those easy enough. After that came simple fighting techniques, like a simple overhead swing, a thrust, and a slash. Again, Lance passed through those easy enough. Slowly, I had him transition from the more basic moves to a more advanced move set. It was here I found him having difficulty. Either the myrmidons only taught him the basics, or the godly energy in his body took heavier a heavier toll on him whenever he started to get more physical. There was a reason Type B demigods were considered the 'mages' of the bunch. Still, he was making some progress. The first written technique he learnt was a disarming technique, which I decided to have him use in practice first to force him to learn it quicker.

"Okay Lance, to start, I'll be holding this… Whatever your enemy is holding out, and I want you to use that move to knock the wrench from my hand. Think you can do that?" I asked. He nodded furiously before taking cover behind the shield. I would like to mention that it was probably because I had surprised attacked him so many times during training, mainly to help him develop his instincts. Mostly, they ended with him on the losing side of a spar before I would stop and let him join the others. Still, at least he learned a little.

Riptide gleamed as it slid against the improvised weapon i held, both weapons glinting in the moonlight. Lance was grinning as he tensed. I gave him a nod, and Lance was in motion, his arm and blade swirling through the motion before I found The pipe/wrench sharply knocked from my hands. The weapon clattered across the ground, skidding to a halt about three feet away.

I nodded, rubbing my wrist as I went to pick it up. "That was good, but you were a bit choppy towards the end there. Just relax and keep focus. Now, we're going to do this again." I grabbed the thing and took the same position as before, letting Lance cross weapons with me.

"Now, usually the first thing a 'survivor' will do is wait for you to engage, or use whatever they think is correct." I showed him a sloppy strike, and Lance prowled on the weapon, twisting my wrist and bending it out of harm's way.

I nodded happily and repeated several random encounters, from various different positions and directions as well, to better prepare him against multiple opponents and ambushes.

"Let's move on a little. Remember, riptide is sharper and stronger than whatever the mortals can come up with, so be cautious, alright?" I slashed the pipe at Riptide, and the lead instrument fell into two pieces, with one hitting Lance in the forehead.

"Owwwww…" He rubbed his head.

Huh.

"Also mind that Riptide basically destroys any shield or armour." I pulled the shield away from Lance, and motioned him forward to attack. I raised to block, and wasn't surprised to find the shield cleanly slashed in half. Lance whistled appreciatively. Ugh… Gwen is going to kill me.

"Don't let that get to your head, though!"

I picked up the two pieces and continued an onslaught of metal scrap, Lance barely being able to defend himself. We were going to need better shields…

Around midnight was when I decided to kick things off. "Alright, Lance. Now that you're more familiar with combat, let's go for another spar, eh?" I could see the fear in him, the way he kept glancing off to the side warily, like he was trying to find any possible escape route.

But, I saw something else, too. Something besides fear. He was tensed, but more like he was about to charge in rather than run away. When I looked into his eyes, I could see his determination. I couldn't help but smile. I guess he'd grown up some more in these past few days. His grip on Riptide was tight, but his hands weren't shaking like they used to. Good. I had a feeling this spar would show me what Lance could really do. That was the hope, anyway.

Still, I didn't want to make it too easy for him. Kronos was out in a flash, already forming itself to become a khopesh. I was getting better at wielding it in scythe form, but I still preferred swords the most. I considered my arsenal for a second… No, the hell was I thinking?

I put the weapon away and put up my fists, slipping on a few rings and a brass knuckle in the other. I pulled out a knife on the ringed hand, spinning it for a few seconds.

"Alright Lance, let's dance." Lance grinned, and charged.

Omake:

Percy landed with a grunt as he was thrown out of the white tent, several angry voices behind him. Not two seconds later, Lance was met with a familiar fate, landing face first in the dirt.

Lance managed to pry himself from the ground, leaving an oddly distinct crater as he did. "So, I guess they don't like movies." he muttered

Moments before they were cast out, they were just discussing movies…

"So, what movies did everyone like?" Gwen asked.

"Action flicks." John replied.

"Political or drama films." Came Bran.

"Has anyone watched Sharktopus?" Billy asked mockingly.

Almost everyone in the room groaned at the mention of the terrible low budget film.

"Hey! That was a good movie!" Percy argued.

All eyes turned on him with a dangerous edge.

"Explain yourself." They spoke in unison.

"What do you mean explain myself? Sharktopus, Sharknado, even Tremors were masterpieces! They appeal in monsters eating girls in bikinsi!" He yelled.

The people gathered, carrying the poor demigod out of the settlement, throwing him out forever.

Eventually, the brothers rebuilt society, and everyone was forced to pay tax in the form of low budget ocean monster films. On the other side of the world, films with monsters - especially those with low grade, B-level monsters - were banned.

A:N/

Goodsir: alright people, submit your omakes. We'll take anything. Of course, we'll edit it first. Oh, and…

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Mr.P3pp3r: And sound the chorus of angels! We have succeeded in writing another chapter! As Sir Goodsir decreed: We will accept all omake ideas for review, discussion, and perhaps even a jig or two! That, and we do appreciate the mints! Until next time: DEUCE!