A/N: Okay, so I'm updating pretty fast mainly because I'm feeling guilty, for a reason unknown to you (for now). All I can say is sorry and please, please don't kill me. Also, because I'm leaving for this hiking/camping thing on Thursday; walking for twenty-something kilometres, sleeping on the ground, doing our 'business' in the bushes… We will have so much fun! (Note the sarcasm there.) Anyway, thanks for everyone who read, reviewed, favourite, followed, and enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but I DO own lots and lots of Band-Aids which I know I will definitely need on my trip…


Demigods Undercover

Chapter VII – Welcome to Camp Half-Blood

Simon

When Simon woke, he felt like he'd been run over by fifty monster trucks, dragged through forests of poison ivy, chewed up by wolves, spat out, and then tossed into a ring of pro wrestlers (which Roxanne loved to watch on TV), and been thoroughly beaten up by them. That is to say – not the best he'd ever felt.

He struggled to open his uncooperative eyes, which were heavy and swollen. Light streamed into the dim room through the crack in the faded, yellow blinds. The room was a little stuffy. When he'd finally convinced his eyes to open, he saw his sister, Roxanne, sitting on a worn, wooden stool beside his bed, idly picking at the split ends in her naturally, stick straight, white-blonde hair.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," she smirked, when she realized that he was awake. Simon could tell that something was bothering her. Her usually sparkling, pale blue eyes didn't shine as they normally did.

He willed one, lethargic, tree trunk arm to hit her softly. "Shut up," he mumbled; his tongue felt thick, making it hard to talk understandably. "How do I look?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, Roxy."

Roxanne sighed, and ran her fingers through his golden blonde curls. "Not… the best," she managed, before choking up slightly.

"Aw… Rox… Don't worry about me." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but probably ended up looking hideous and Medusa-like. Whoa, where did that come from? "What's going on?" he asked. The stiff bed was really starting to hurt his sore and possibly bruised back. "Where are we? What happened to me? The last thing I remember was… whoa, wait. Tell me I was hallucinating."

Roxanne shook her head. "Not if you remember the same as me," she said. "I woke up a couple of hours ago, and they were here. They wouldn't tell me anything. They said to wait 'til you woke."

"Who's 'they'?"

"You know, Mr Jackson and Miss Chase. Oh, and that scary, punk girl."

Simon tried to process the new information.

"How are you feeling?" his sister asked him gingerly.

Simon attempted a laugh, wincing as his ribs responded. "Like that time you challenged me to a wrestling duel when I was ten and you were nine," he chuckled. "You completely pulverized me," he admitted.

She smiled at the memory. 'Yeah, and mom was so mad at us. Well, mainly me."

"Yeah…" he reminisced. "Hey, what's that?" he asked, glancing at the plate containing two, lemon-yellow cubes, the size of the top part of his thumb, and a tall glass of a translucent, golden-brown liquid, on the little, bedside table. Cold beads of water slid tantalizingly down the sides of the glass.

"Oh," she said. "They told me to give to you to make you feel better." He blue eyes darkened. "I don't trust them, though."

Simon groaned. "Me neither, but right now, I'd do anything it takes to feel a little better."

Roxanne hesitated, "Are you sure?"

His only reply was a pained moan.

"Fine," she relented, handing him a cube of whatever it was.

It was lemony flavored and chewy. Simon fervently prayed that it was not poisonous. He felt better almost instantly. Grasping the wooden frame of the bed, he pulled himself into a sitting position without too much effort. "Wow," he said in wonderment. His mouth and throat was feeling uncomfortably parched, like sand paper, and the blood coursing in his veins was blisteringly hot. He hurriedly reached for the apple juice-like liquid and gulped it down, as Roxanne watched him, worriedly. There was no real way to describe it. 'It' tasted like his mother's homemade caramel, warm and sticky, and sweet s'mores.

He felt like he could finally beat his sister at wrestling, which was saying something. Although Roxanne was petite, she could beat two hundred pound brutes, without breaking a sweat. People had long ago learned to fear her.

She let out the breath she was holding. "What's it taste like?" she asked.

"Caramel," he replied truthfully. "I wanna go outside."

"Uh, yeah… sure," she said, confused at his sudden change of topic. Of course, let me help you."

"No need," he grinned, and swung himself off of the crumpled bed, and practically bouncing out of the room.

"Some meal," she remarked, and followed her brother out of the cabin, looking somewhat dazed.

Outside, the air was humid and damp, the sky, an even shade of blue, scattered puffs of clouds hanging here and there. Simon stood on the little porch, leaning on the scratched railing, while Roxanne settled herself on a faded, red rocking chair. He fingered a love heart, embellished with the initials S plus C that was scratched onto the wood. He gazed absentmindedly out at the rolling, green hills, and the little meadow of strawberry plants. Rows and rows of fat, juicy strawberries. The distant clash of metal on metal could be heard faintly.

"What's that noise?"

"No idea." Roxanne pushed herself off of the plush chair. "At least our kidnappers brought us someplace nice. Wherever we are."

"Uh huh." The warm, afternoon breeze felt nice on his face. "It looks like some sort of summer camp," he remarked.

"Yeah. A weird, crazy summer camp, where people are kidnapped and taken to."

"Actually," Someone said. "You're right. About the camp part, that is. Not the crazy, kidnapping part. In fact, you two are probably the first we've ever kidnapped."

"Great…" Roxanne said sarcastically. "I feel so special."

Annabeth and Percy materialized, followed by the scary, punk girl who spoke.

"Who are you? Why are we here? What happened?" Simon demanded. His voice shook from suppressed confusion and anger.

"One, I'm Thalia," 'Thalia' smirked. "Two, I will let Annabeth explain the next part. And three, I assume you mean when you blacked out?" Annabeth raise an eyebrow at her. "Yes, well..." she cleared her throat embarrassedly. "I may perhaps have knocked you out… maybe…"

"What do you mean, 'knocked us out'?"

"Well… It was a combination of a well-placed punch, and an electric shock."

"Thalia goes a little overboard sometimes…" Annabeth interjected.

"But how? And even electric shocks don't leave you feeling bruised and sore," he muttered. There was something dodgy going on, not to mention his wounded pride, for being the bed-ridden one, when his sister was perfectly fine. "Besides, how come my sister is fine?"

"That's not my fault," Thalia defended. "That was Algae Breath's doing."

"Algae Breath?" Percy asked, an exasperated yet friendly smile, tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's a new one."

"You were saying?" said Roxanne.

"I may have possibly maybe sort of kinda perhaps dropped you," Percy said, in a very fast, rushed way.

Simon glared at him. "Dropped me?"

"Well, see, we were flying, and we were almost here, but do you know how hard it is to hold an unconscious person, while your mode of transport is doing loop the loops? So you may have fallen a few feet…" he mumbled.

"A few feet? More like a few hundred," he scoffed, "and what was that stuff I ate, and where are we?"

Percy and Thalia both looked towards Annabeth. "You explain," they said in eerily similar voices.

She sighed. "You might want to sit down." Nobody moved. "Okay… Do you know anything about Greek myths?"

"Like the gods and stuff? Yeah, but what has that got to do with anything?" Roxanne crossed her arms petulantly.

Simon started. "Like what you were teaching in world history class on Monday?" He knew there was something odd going on there; the thunder, anger and how she seemed to talk about them in present tense. None of it made any sense, though.

"Yeah, like that." Annabeth explained, taking a deep breath. "Well, they used to come down and well, have children with mortals, right? And these offspring were called demigods. The thing is; they still do so today." She paused, waiting for that to sink in. "And you two, are offspring of a particular god." Her probing, gray eyes seemed to dare them to scoff her, to say it wasn't true.

It couldn't be true. Simon shook his head frantically. "Whoa! Say, what now?"

"Who? Why should we believe you?" Even though Roxanne was somewhere around eight inches shorter than the other girl, she seemed to radiate anger, but Annabeth stared her down – nothing seemed to faze her.

"We don't know," Annabeth said softly. "You must be claimed, though. You should've been, ages ago."

"I don't believe you."

Annabeth sighed. "Percy?" she said.

Percy grinned, his smile curling up to the tips of his ears – well, almost. "Awesome," he rubbed his hands together. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his dark hair flopped in the wind. A look of complete calmness descended upon his excited features. Suddenly, he lunged forward and lifted his hands off in a flourish. A roar filled the air, followed by a vortex of blue-green water; a tornado of water.

"Whoa!" Simon lurched back in shock. "Oh God!"

"Gods," corrected Thalia automatically.

"Well, that still doesn't explain who our father was – or is – or ugh!" Simon held his head in his hands in frustration.

"Patience, child," a calming voice said. The voice resonated with unwavering wisdom like the sea.

Annabeth grinned. Simon hadn't seen her that excited in a while. "Chiron!" she said, a smile spreading across her face.

"Whoa!" Roxanne yelled. "You're a – a – a horse hybrid thingo! Cool!" 'Chiron' grimaced.

"I prefer the term, centaur," he said.

"Like in Harry Potter?"

"Well… I guess." Chiron smiled at them. The lines on his weathered face, crinkling. "I am Chiron, trainer of heroes. You, my children, are sons and daughters of a particular god."

"Why haven't they been claimed?" Percy cut in, his forehead crinkling.

"I do not know. I think it is wise, if we take a trip to Olympus, as soon as possible."

Annabeth nodded in agreement. "Good. I need to go oversee the construction anyway."

"Olympus! As in –?" Simon had never seen Roxanne so panicked before.

Chiron smiled one of his calm, all knowing smiles, but it did not quite reach his wise, old eyes. He took a deep breath and clicked his fingers together, and Simon just had enough time to think, what is he doing? Before sinking into a calm, quiet stupor. A second later – well, at least it felt like a second later he awoke. Everything seemed to make sense now. Roxanne next to him smiled back in the same calm way he felt.

Percy was muttering something about mist. That's how Simon's head felt; misty, foggy, like a big balloon of fuzziness waiting to be popped. Thalia grinned. "Okay, Annie, you show these two to the Hermes cabin, me and Perce need to talk to Chiron."

Annabeth nodded. Simon realized that Thalia was probably the only one Annabeth allowed to call her Annie – not even Percy. "Sure," she said "Come on."

The walked past the patch of strawberry plants, and Simon could not help but salivate over them Annabeth looked upon him with slight amusement. "Come on, we haven't got all day, you know." Simon allowed himself to be dragged away, mournfully. They reached a small 'U' of cabins, each somewhat different-looking to the others.

"You'll be put in the Hermes cabin until you are claimed," she explained, knocking on the door.

The Hermes cabin was the oldest looking cabin of them all. The paint was chipping off the walls, the wooden door was cracked, and the bronze doorknob was tarnished, from overuse. Two guys who looked more similar than just half-siblings opened the door with an almost mocking flourish. Two, identical smiles twisted up their faces, all the way to their elfish, sharp tipped ears. "Welcome… to the Hermes cabin… Muahahahaha."

"Connor, Travis." Annabeth nodded. "These are Roxanne and Simon. They're siblings. Do not. I repeat, do not be your usual selves." Simon didn't like the way she'd said that; it sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh, do not worry, O Wise One," Connor – or Travis (whichever one was taller) grinned. "We'll take very good care of them." He rubbed his hands together, and Simon could almost imagine his sprouting a long, thin evil moustache, curled at the tips.

Annabeth glared. "You'd better. And don't call me that." She spun on her heel and was halfway out the door, into the glimmering sunset, when Travis said:

"Going to make out with Percy, O Owl Face?"

Annabeth – well, growled. He had never seen anyone so angry before. And it wasn't a usual type of anger, which only made it worse. Other than the sound she had emitted, Annabeth looked completely and totally calm; her face blank, like a clean slate. A small, sadistic smile tugged at one corner of her red lips. Simon gulped in fear. Connor gulped in fear. And Travis? Well, to put it simply, he ran away, squealing like a little girl, calling for his mommy. Well, that's what he was probably calling for, because those were cut short by his piecing scream. What caused that piercing scream? Well, let's just say that Travis won't be fathering any children, anytime soon. Annabeth walked away, with a skip in her step, and a smirk spreading across her face. From that moment on, Simon vowed to never, ever cross her.

The sound of a conch horn (Simon didn't know how he knew that) blew, and the twenty or so campers in the Hermes cabin all leapt up, a couple of then shouting: "Dinner!" They lined up, following the Stoll brothers, who argued and shoved each other to lead the line. Travis won, in the end. At least, Simon thought it was Travis – he was the taller one, right? He could see all the other half-bloods marching out of their respective cabins, although he saw that Annabeth surreptitiously snuck out of cabin three, and sprinted over to the gray one.

From the horrendously red cabin, which looked like someone had dumped a ton of ketchup over it, came around ten of the biggest, bulkiest… He wasn't sure if they were human or not. They were led by the fiercest looking girl, he had ever seen. Her stringy, brown hair reminded him of earthworms. Beside him, he could feel Roxanne bouncing in anticipation to wrestle with one of them. But this time, he wasn't sure she'd be able to win.

Percy came out of his cabin, moments later, grinning, his hair sticking up in various directions. He was followed by someone who was at least eight feet tall; Percy was tall already, but this dude was gigantic. Percy said something to that guy, which resulted in him being enveloped into a crushing bear hug. When he was released, Simon could see him doubling over, gasping for breaths. They traversed past the rest of the cabins, into a large pavilioned area. A cracked, wooden sign said: Mess Hall, in Greek. There were long clumps of tables, set in rows, with a large, brass brazier at the right end. Some of the tables were longer than the others.

They sat down at the longest table, as the sun slipped lower into the sky. Long, coral-colored fingers of the sun trailed up, leaving streaks of orange in the navy blue, night sky. The chattering hushed as Mr. D stood up and cleared his throat dramatically. "Welcome back, Peter Johnson and Annie Bell whatshername. Yada, yada, yada. Blah, blah, blah." He was about to sit down when Chiron (Simon was still getting used to him) cleared his throat. Mr. D stood up hastily. "Right, yes," he grumbled. "Welcome Stephen and Rita McDonald – oh fine. Simon and Roxanne Mason. Unclaimed demigods… Welcome… whatever…"

The rest of the campers rolled their eyes, as if they had witnessed Mr. D's welcoming speech many, many times. Plates and plates of food suddenly materialized out of seemingly nowhere. His sister was staring wide-eye at the sumptuous array of food, before abandoning all manners their mother had taught them, and piling mountains of food upon her plate. "What? I'm hungry," she defended herself indignantly.

All the campers stood, almost simultaneously and walked over to the bronze brazier, balancing plates of food. Each camper forked in the most delicious-looking thing on their plate into the glowing embers, and murmured something. "You're meant to put in part of your dinner, and pray to your godly parent. As an offering. They like the smell." Someone explained beside him. It was a guy, maybe a couple of years older than him. "I'm Chris Rodriguez," he introduced.

"Simon," he said. "What if you don't know who your godly parent is?" he asked.

"I did that for several years," he said. "Before I was claimed." His eyes darkened.

"Oh," Simon said, as he approached the brazier. The fire was roaring now, spitting gold sparks. He inhaled the aroma, expecting the odor of burnt food, but was met with decadent smells. He could almost believe that the gods could live on such a smell. He dropped in three of his fattest strawberries, and squeezed his eyes shut to pray. Please father, whoever you are. Please claim me and Roxanne. He opened his eyes, as he heard a chorus of gasps. All the campers were looking at a point above his head. Simon looked up, dread pooling in the pit of his belly. It was a symbol, glowing strongly in the backdrop of the blazing flames.

Everyone (who was sitting) stood up, in one, fluid motion. Chiron rose, majestic in the glow of the fiery flames. The shadows flickered on his wise, timeless face. "All hail Simon, son of – "


Sorry. Feel free to yell at me through your reviews.

Um… also, whoever can guess who claimed Simon gets a sneak-peek of the next chapter.

Oh, and what do you think the 'S and C' carved into the wood, stands for?

Thanks for reading :)