This short chapter didn't turn out as good as I hoped. It's just not been my week.
And I've been considering changing the name to Gene of Rebellion, but it sounds dumb, and… I don't know.
And now I respond to my reviewers, whom I love very much.
Coolwater123- To be honest, I have a crappy imagination. I can't come up with anything original unless I have a muse, someone who says or does something. And they have left on this story so if you have something you want to see happen in this story, let me be the first to know! I'm glad the background information was helpful.
DarkAngel94524- Percabeth always prevails. Unfortunately, I'm undecided on that matter. Glad you liked the chapter, and I hope I keep the story real enough for you.
Liliesandroses- my story loves you very much, too, haha.
EagleCodex- That chapter was my pleasure. It was actually the easiest to write; odd, huh? The meat will begin… just as soon as I rediscover the hiding place of my muse. I know I put it somewhere…
Nelly123- I'm especially glad to hear from you, seeing as you're so amazing on the forum. The begging, though unnecessary, is greatly appreciated and will go down in the books as the greatest thing a reviewer and friend has done for one of my stories. Never begged? Hmm, I feel special… Hey, have any suggestions? I might be able to squeeze them in somewhere.
Percy slumped down on the ground, trying to even his breathing, Ares campers sprawled around him in a mesh of ugly and hatred. One had even spat at him in their anger, but he thought nothing of it. If they wished to waste their breath, it was their choice.
Over on the Athenian end of the battle, nothing had gone right. They were supposed to have a flawless strategy, one to take out at least half of the group of brutes, but someone had sabotaged the plan. When the trip wires should have gone off, feet trampling over them, it was soon discovered that one of the ends had never been attached properly and failed in the field. Annabeth had also left her post with her Yankees cap in her hand, her siblings struggling against the wrath of the half-bloods.
He breathed heavily through his nose and capped Riptide. Percy ran a hand on his lower back; a camper had come so desperately close to hitting him in his soft spot. It had set a taste of reality in his mouth that he wasn't perfect and he couldn't do everything so recklessly and unorthodox.
The quiet was disrupted by a rustling behind him that gave a clear warning: he should stand and turn to face whatever it was before he was lost to Hades.
When he did, all he found was Annabeth in perfect condition, as if she hadn't even gone into battle at all. He knew what had happened and confronted her about her reckless actions. "What was that, Annabeth?" His voice was harsher than he meant it to be. His tone, though it shouldn't have, sent her into the deep end.
"What was what?" She snapped back, giving him a once over. As far as she was concerned, everything had gone according to her plan. The Athena cabin had been disgraced pleasantly enough, and Poseidon had been in the proper position to save the day. It was a low blow to her mother's pride and it felt so good to be rebellious.
"I almost died," he informed her, seething. Her expression seemed to change from the pleased smugness to an utter loss for words; she hadn't considered what might have happened to him in battle. It hardly crossed her mind that he could even get injured.
She was quiet before explaining that everything had turned out fine and they wouldn't have to be the ones performing other's tasks. If there was an inkling of doubt in Percy's mind at her sanity, it only swelled tremendously.
"Annabeth, this rebellion stuff needs to be toned down to things that aren't life-or-death," he told her stiffly.
"I've hardly done anything, don't you think?" she asked. The part of her mind that had never appeared wrong, her mother's half, was telling her that she was setting herself up to get snapped at. She was wrong; she knew it. She should've been better, reacted better to her mother's ridiculous efforts, but a part of her was claiming that she was overreacting to how she was behaving.
"You've hardly done anything right," he retorted. He stuck Riptide deep in his pockets and brushed past her indignantly.
"Well, hold on," she said, turning to follow him out of the woods. She found no more that she could say other than an apology that she didn't believe she owed him. Not yet, anyhow, but she discovered that mustering the courage to say it was enough to force him to calm down.
He stopped where the trees ended and turned back to her, his face more relaxed than enraged. "Alright, Annabeth. You win. You want to be rebellious—fine. But you're going to need help because you're not very good at it."
"What are you suggesting?" Her face, as much as he found it humorous, was offended in all seriousness.
"You don't have my knack for upsetting the gods," he grinned and turned his back again, heading off to the direction of the cabins. She, for a scary moment, imagined he had just stuck his middle finger to the sky. But she knew he would never, ever do anything so crude and pleading for death.
As the sun dipped into the highest pocket of sky for a place to rest, the horn for lunch rang out. Percy stood in the commons area, a basketball in hand, and cursed, knowing he would be late again for the one meal he loved most. After minor stumbling, shoving, and the pulling of a shirt over his head, he hurried to follow the rest of the cabins out to the mess hall.
They had marched down to their stone picnic tables when Chiron made the ever-traditional greeting, informing the campers on cabin challenges in the arena the next day involving spears and swords, and raised his goblet to the sky in praise.
The food was brought out and placed before the campers in bountiful helpings of fresh fruit, barbeque and warm bread rolls that were lightly buttered and crisped. Percy filled his plate with whatever would fit, however much he found he wanted. He reached for his personal goblet and filled a request for the customary blue Cherry Coke, foaming violet liquid coating the brim.
He had left his table and stood in line for the roaring fire out before them, the rich smells it produced wafting through the midday air and coating it with melancholy peace. Someone ahead of him detached themselves from their spot in line and moved to be at his direct front. He glanced at her with a small smile, running his thumb along the ridges of his plate.
His face, one of consideration, moved towards hers as to prevent others from hearing him. "Sit at my table."
"What?" her eyes were near to dislocating from the sockets.
"Yeah," he told her with a nod. "You want to upset Athena; this is the safest way to do it."
"Safe for who?" She didn't argue farther after minor convincing from him as they made their offerings. She nodded to the nearby Malcolm and told him to go sit without her, that she would be fine.
And as soon as her hindquarters touched the bench, thunder clapped in the sky with a terrifying tremor. She absentmindedly stuck out her tongue as she tore her bread.
Yeah. It's a short, not too important chapter.