Disclaimer: The title is from Guns N' Roses' Welcome to the Jungle.

CHAPTER 8: You're In The Jungle, Baby!

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the resident bitch," I said. Everyone heard and stopped. Huh.

"We have an initiation ceremony for newbies, punk," the bitch said angrily.

She was well built, short brown hair, reddish-brown eyes, camo pants and jacket, red bandanna, electric spear on her back… Her scarlet aura- with bronze, she's good with weapons, and the barely there electric spark, her spear- matched the bruttish red cabin with a boar's head, barbed wires, a bloody aura, and one nasty paint job. Ares.

That just took a second to observe.

"Oh, you mean dunking my head into the toilet?" I asked innocently looking at the bathroom. "That's just fucking retarded."

"What'd ya say, punk?" Her posse banged their fists behind her threateningly.

Ooh, I'm am terrified.

"I said," I said slowly. "That is retarded. Overused. Old. Stereotypical. There are many other ways to assert your dominance."

"Better, watch what you say, punk," she was barely holding back. "I could pulverize you."

I ignored Annabeth and all the gathered spectators. I hate bullying.

"First," I began cooly. "My name's Percillia Jackson, not punk. But I prefer Perci. Now about the whole pulverize me deal," I raised my hand stopping her. "You, better than anyone else, should know the consequences of underestimating your opponent… Daughter of War."

A hush fell over the place. They were all staring at me incredulously.

"And what would you know?" she asked scathingly. I didn't flinch, but others did, including her siblings.

"More than you would think," I said darkly, before putting on a cheeky smile. "Now. considering you are the head of your siblings' cabin, you probably are responsible for training your warriors or soldiers here. Eh?"

Chiron, as activities director, explained much during Dio's hallelujah moment.

She nodded, slowly. I walked up to her and slung an arm around her shoulders. I am tiny compared to her. Where she had a wrestler's- muscles and all- body, I had a swimmer or a runner's lithe physique.

I steered her towards the arena.

"Nice place," I complemented. "So, instead of humiliating newbies you could test them while showing them who's boss on your home turf. You get to see your soldiers' abilities, therefore making the process of training them more easier and beneficial for both parties."

"Not bad newbie," she appraised.

We both shook hands- she finally told me her name, Clarisse La Rue- then stood at opposite ends of the Arena. We had an audience. The seats were near full.

"How do you suggest to do this, Prissy?"

"Well, La Rue, we start easy then…" I shrugged.

I ignored the bets going around. Most went for La Rue. A couple on me.

Well, some are about to be fucking broke.

"Don't you need a weapon?" she yelled.

"I have all I need."

I gave my hoodie to Annabeth at some point. I hid Kýma. She's only there as a last resort. I undid my braids into two dutch braids with the balisongs at the end.

Damn, I have some long-ass hair.

"How about we start off with hand-to-hand?" I yelled. She nodded.

She took her spear and changed it to two scarlet, leather, fingerless gloves. The knuckles had claws with electricity bouncing on it every now and then.

She looked smug as I inspected hers.

Well, too bad sweetheart.

I took out my own black leather gloves with black spikes. I looked at them. I wonder…

Yes! They lit on fire. Turquoise blue fire. Which didn't hurt me. Sweet.

Would the other Furies' weapons change the color of the fire too? Not now.

I looked up at Clarisse. I raised an eyebrow. A challenge.

She smirked. Bring it on, bitch.

She made the first move.

There was a flurry a punches, kicks, flips, head locks, burns, electrocution, gymnastics, bending, jumping, and adrenaline. Lots of it. It was also why despite the blood everywhere and gashes and all the shit we weren't in a corner licking our boo-boo's okay.

Now she had me pinned in the ground under her. Her claw's at my throat and above my heart running with electricity. She wore a feral grin.

Oh, well.

The next moment I was on top of her. My flaming hands holding her head between my thighs and at her throat. I love adrenaline. Because as she ignored the scorching, I ignored the electricity that felt so uncomfortable running through me at my thighs.

I jumped off of her. And rolled in the sand and landed in a crouch. I grinned too. A bloody terrifying grin by others' standards.

The crowd was wild. And at some point Dio and Chiron joined to watch. Our Audience was exponentially larger. And-

More… gods were there. My sensors and instincts were going haywire. Focusing on them will get me tired, and I just started. I'll sort through my thoughts later.

I looked back at Clarisse. She is enjoying this as much as I am. Very, very much.

Time to take this a little level higher. I had my black, flaming mace. The fire was a blue, like my gloves.

Clarisse's gloves were now mirroring mine except, for her mace being scarlet and with electricity. Perks of being the god of war's daughter? Probably.

With a cry, we both attacked at the same time. And damn, if the firey, electric shockwave wasn't impressive. Over the maces' X form we both grinned at each other.

I pushed her back and swung the mace at her stomach as I barely avoided her strike.

Jump, swing, parry, bam! She slid on the sand backwards from my hit to her stomach. A large scorch mark was added to my abstract decoration of her abdomen.

She just got up and threw her mace at me so fast it caught me in the chest.

And- I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky…

I flipped mid air and landed on my hands and feet. Coughing up blood.

I spit it out and grinned at her.

Oh, how I just love adrenaline. Have I said that before? Well, I'll be repeating it a lot then.

She mirrored my same bloody expression. I threw her mace back, ignoring the electricity- must work like my blue fire- and she caught it.

This time when I stood up, my mace had its axe companion. Both flaming and deadly black. I didn't have to look before as she now had both as she came at me.

We exploded in too many blows and hits. Overhead strikes, upward ones, slash, slide, jump, swipe, hit, bam, spit blood, and shuffle repeat. Bam, bang, clang, swish, sting!

If the audience was wild before, now it was savage. More bets were flying around, people taking sides. I noticed in the corner of my eyes a colorful barrier around the Arena.

Good. No-one gets into the middle of the crossfire.

I parried her mace, swinging my axe at her stomach. We both kept ignoring the fire and electricity forces, though both fucking hurt. I jumped back and turned my weapons into the black ring bands on each middle finger.

"You got a gun option on yours?" I asked, spitting blood. She nodded.

I took out my colt in my right and a bronze dagger in my left. And despite being covered in blood I had sturdy grips on both.

Bang, bang, bang… Bullets were flying through the air. Special glowy bullets. Sometimes they found their target. Sometimes they deflected off of the daggers in our hands. We were both good aims. And I'm pretty sure there is a bullet somewhere in my thigh… Ouch.

We slashed and shot and damn I'm flexible.

I was enjoying this, very damn much. Finally standing with someone on equal grounds.

After two rounds of ammo and, despite the barrier, a kid getting shot from the stands, we got bored with guns. This ain't the Old West, partner.

She turned her weapons into a sword. I was lacking in those. I mean, I'm pretty good with one though none seemed balanced.

I looked to my right… because. My eyes met a pair of familiar sea green ones. My father… He patted his pocket.

I nodded with a raised eyebrow. The fuck happened to no meddling?

He winked, his eyes gaining a mischievous quality, and disappeared back into the shadow he was in.

I put my hand in my pocket and, a very ordinary pen was in my hand. I uncapped it.

Beautiful. Glowy bronze, greek xiphos, leaf blade, bedazzled hilt, and Anaklusmos in Greek engraved into the blade. Ooh, it's balanced! Again, beautiful.

It wouldn't be the first time a mysterious beach hobo appears, dropping glowy weapons that somehow end up finding their merry way back to me. How the fuck did you think I got glowy weapons in the mortal world? The man just never had the balls to actually talk.

He's still most definitely getting an ass-whoop.

I turned back when there was a swing at my midsection. Oh, you dirty, dirty player… I'll show you dirty….

But first, thank you: Instincts, ADHD and adrenaline. According to the spectators, I caught phrases that indicate me resembling a demon in every way- the blood, abnormal fire, pain-tolerance, arsenal, skill, and style. Yeah… demon, huh? Could've been worse.

Now, though I lacked in strength- compared to Clarisse at least (this bitch is fucking ripped!)- I was more skilled with a sword than her. I caught a blind spot and slashed at her waist and jumped backward before she could retaliate. We were dancing, a graceful and deadly dance. Our swords collided more often than not.

Now, pay back for the dirty move. She started the match, I'm ending it. On my terms.

The next minute Clarisse was on her face in the ground. My braids around her neck, the butterfly wings of the balisongs now open with both blades at her neck. Alecto's former flaming, black-material whip, now with blue fire, was around her torso and legs. An glowy bronze knife at the base of her spine and, Kýma above her heart and spine…

Clarisse knew that one move, just one fucking move, and a couple unpleasantries would… take place.

Her neck would be slit at her jugular and trachea, her body would be sliced in two, a dagger would make her permanently crippled, paralyzed, or dead, and finally, Kýma would pierce right through her spine and into her heart.

"How about this?" I whispered lowly for only her. "You yield, and at the end of the day, we meet and have some of Mr.D's fine wine?"

The audience was in one hell of an anticipatory silence.

"I yield," her voice was loud and clear.

The audience was silent for a couple of beats before-

Fucking hell! I think I lost a motherfucking eardrum. Owww!

We both shook hands. Bitch now has my respect.

"Nice spar, Prissy," she smirked and spat blood beside her. I raised an amused eyebrow. I think we could be great friends…

And- oh, godsdamn, motherfucking hell!

"This is the part I hate most you know," I said casually. "When the adrenaline rush, blood loss, and injuries get to you."

The adrenaline was leaving at amazing speeds. Traitor. Blood loss was seriously not so good. I can't use my powers, or I'll expose my heritage. Since Poseidon didn't claim me, yet, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that he has a damn well convincing reason why the hell he's not claiming me now. But we'll see…

And I'm still bleeding out and the fucking crowd is still chaotic.

"Don't you, like, have medics or some shit here."

"The Apollo kids, their father's the god of healing."

"You know, if you're still up for the drinks later, tell me when I wake up."

She barely nodded before we dragged each other to a shady place and proceeded to pass out.

I passed out. A-fucking-gain. It must be a record. Twice in one sleep-deprived week. Fuck-oww.