A/N: Yes, I know. Jason and Percy, with a little bit of Timothy. But it makes everything better. I told you it would lead to TLH, so it's all expected! Enjoy!

Third Person POV

Landing on the edge of a hill near a highway, Jason and Percy got off of their Pegasi, helping Tim off in the process. Exhausted, Jason convinced Percy to come with him to his own camp.

Ares was right.

There happened to be a Roman version of Camp Half-Blood after all. Percy could not help but notice the certain type of swagger that Jason walked with. In many ways, Percy and Jason were two halves of the same coin.

Half.

Percy and Jason were half-bloods. There was another set of half-bloods. The thought rang in and out of both boys' heads all they way to the camp. Oddly enough, they were part of two civilizations that were raised and branded to hate each other.

Hate.

Percy remembered, immediately, of his hatred for the God of War. No one uses Percy Jackson and gets away with it. Not even him. At least, this was Percy's thoughts on the matter. Ares was working for Gaea all along.

Gaea.

The Elder Goddess. Mother Earth herself. She had wanted Percy dead for a while now. There are rumored to be seven demigods, the greatest of the age, who must band together and reach the Doors of Death, thus unlocking the key to defeating the Giants. Percy knew all of this, and it had only been a little while after Rachel Dare, the Oracle, gave this new prophecy.

Rachel. Annabeth. Nico.

Percy missed his friends dearly. He wanted to go back to camp, but he was all the way in San Francisco. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally get answers. He could feel Ares slowly trying to gain access to his thoughts, and speak with him just as he had done before. However, Percy wasn't about to let him trick him again. Trying his hardest, he blacked out all thoughts so that Ares could not find his way in.

Before Percy could lose himself in the machinations of his mind, Jason spoke up when they reached the top of the grassy hill, to reveal and almost identical entrance to a Roman Camp Half-Blood. Percy read the banner as they approached the archway. It read:

CAMP JUPITER:

BUN VENIT POPULUSQUE ROMANUS

"And here she is," Jason said proudly. "Camp Jupiter, my pride and joy."

"What's that under it?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Spanish or something? 'Cause I ain't looking for a Mexican Reserve."

Jason laughed, as if he honestly found Percy to be funny.

"It's Roman. It says: 'Welcome People of Rome.'"

Walking into camp, Percy couldn't help but notice how similar the action around him looked compared to Camp Half-Blood. There were climbing walls, basketball and volleyball courts, cabins, and more. Suddenly, an dark-haired girl (A/N: I don't know exactly what she looks like yet, but the sneak-peak of The Son of Neptune describes her that way) ran up to Jason, hugging him tightly.

"Reyna?" Jason asked, lifting her up into the hug. "It's OK! I'm alright."

"Sorry!" she said, pulling off of him. "I didn't know if you'd make it out alive. Those Giants aren't easy."

"Reyna, this is Percy," Jason said, pointing to him. "He's a demigod. Mind telling Lupa for me?"

Smiling and shaking Percy's hand, she ran off to a big, stone building in the distance. Percy hadn't known exactly who Lupa was, but he was sure it was a toss up. Either she'd identify him and welcome him into the ranks, or she'd kill him. That was usually Percy's two choices in everything that he did.

Looking around, Percy oddly felt right at home. Everything looked exactly like home—er, camp. At least, Camp Half-Blood was more of a home than his actual home anyway.

"So do you know who your godly parent is?" Jason said coolly, trying to break the ice. "Maybe Venus? Or Apollo?"

"Venus? You mean Aphrodite."

"Yes, that's the Greek term. We're Romans."

Percy had just considered himself to be shell-shocked. For years he had thought that Camp Half-Blood was the only camp for demigods in town. But he was wrong, and not only was he wrong, but he also failed to notice an entirely new culture of demigods hiding under his nose for all this time.

Before Percy could think any longer, Jason yelled and suddenly the two boys were teleported out…and into the Greek Camp. Standing before them was a large, and undoubtedly pissed off God of War.

"Percy. Jackson," he growled. "You disobeyed me, and for that, I must kill you in front of your friends to assert my place as a God, and yours as a puny demigod."

Percy stood in a mixture of shock, anger, and confusion. Ares had slung his favorite bastard sword over his shoulder, and he was ready to pee his pants. Even Jason, the brave, powerful Son of Jupiter was a bit taken back by the impressive stature of a God such as Ares.

Before Ares could strike the boys in cold blood, a blonde-haired girl ran out of the building crowd and stood center-circle in front of the three men. It was Annabeth.

"Percy! Before you fight, you should know about Ares too!" Annabeth yelled, slightly out of breath. "I didn't want to break up with you! I was forced to by Ares in order to keep him from killing you."

Percy stood there, listening, his anger growing intensely.

"He manipulated the situation. He hid his own son and made it all seem like you had killed Deimos, JUST so he could get you killed again! And on top of that, he hid Artemis' Bow in his Chariot so that she would back up the decision to execute you! And yet you continue to TRUST him?"

Percy stared at Ares. The green eyes did their trick, slowly prompting Ares to reveal the truth.

"I wanted revenge," Ares snarled, "and I always have wanted it. I've wanted you dead for a while kid. The only reason you're still here is because you're one of those seven who get to save our asses."

Percy looked at Jason expectantly. Although they didn't know each other, they had already learned of their similarities by now. They had to help each other fight, whether they liked it or not.

"Ares, I challenge you then," Percy sneered at the God. "Fight me, if you want."

"So proud…what makes you think you can handle me this time?"

Percy smirked at him and lifted his own blade with pride. "I think you're scared I'm going to beat you. AGAIN."

Hell broke loose. Stupid of them, some might think, to fight in camp like that, endangering innocent lives. But the two warriors were too heated in their dead eye-lock to care. Should they have been more conscious? Probably yes.

But that was the Art of War.

A/N: Cheesy line. But necessary. The big battle is next, so you might have to give me just a little bit more time to perfect it! Hang in there, and don't hesitate to review. Keep reading, 'cause it only gets better!

– Chris