Disclaimer: This title is brought to you from P!nk's Just Like Fire.
CHAPTER 10: We Came Here To Run It
I was being manipulated. I was being manipulated. I. Was. Being. Manipulated. I. Was. Being. Fucking. Manipulated. I hope I got that clear. And that I absolutely and wholly hate it.
The two weeks I stayed at this camp? It was so fucked up. Everyone was behaving like sheep with 'free will' in a large, fenced grassland; it was disgusting and pathetic to watch. And I don't do restraints and expectations.
But I'll play along for as long as necessary. I'll make them think I am the perfect little sheep- with an attitude, of course- or, for the other party, the powerful ally to tip scales, which both believe they can control. Hah! Both parties were doing lousy jobs of keeping things under the tables. Both were playing one hell of a game that almost everyone is suckered into it.
Oh, and I have to deeply thank whoever-it-is for my so-called 'demigod dreams.' Probably my asshole-aunties. 'Assholes' because they only wanted to show me major and significant but highly confusing, blurry, and low-key sounding-like-bullshit dreams. But with sheer willpower, I got at least a bigger piece of the puzzle. And honestly it doesn't really take much to put pieces together. Simple math really; one plus one equals two.
Everyone was being manipulated. Everyone's thinking is clouded. Gods and demigods alike. It was sad, really, maybe with a little hilarity on the side.
So let me get a list ready. Number one: demigods.
They tend to follow expected stereotypes, which, in my humble opinion, is bullshit wrapped in ass. Demeter kids are expected to be the plant loving pacifists. They are seen as weak, insignificant and are more than often not taken seriously. Sweet and complacent.
The Ares kids are expected to be big, bad and burly meatheaded bullies who are constantly looking for a fight. Tough and dumb.
Athena kids are called nerds, the kids who think they are more intelligent and have no problem shoving it in your face. They also have a thing for battle strategy. Prideful and belligerent.
Apollo's kids are only invested in healing and the arts. Oh, and archery too. Creative and trival.
The Hephaestus kids, well honestly, they are holed up in their cabin-forge acting like workaholics. Subconsciously, hiding like ugly ducklings scared to face the outside world unless absolutely necessary. Hard-working and under appreciated.
And the supposedly air-headed children of Aphrodite. They think acting like bimbos and manwhores and fashion-obssesed dumb fucks is part of their mother's legacy. Shallow and petty- oops, pretty.
And the Hermes' Cabin dwellers. They either act all shady and depressed- Unclaimed and minor gods' children- or they indulge in thievery and pranking. Wild and underrated.
And last but not least, Dionysus' Cabin. Let's just say… Dio isn't being a very nice dad and role model at the moment. Useless, grumpy and drunk isn't something I'd like to be remembered by. Slothful and insignificant.
And second on my list: the gods.
I think they all go with the whole 'familiarity breeds contempt' and Machiavelli's 'It is better to be feared than loved.' They distance themselves from their children, unknowingly brewing hate and contempt. While, simultaneously depicting themselves as those great, unwavering constants. The whole don't-fuck-with-me vibe is very obvious. They also treat their children, us, like sheep. They give us what makes us believe is the utmost form of benevolence from their side. The puppets and the puppeteer.
But all that happened why? Paranoia. Yes, they are all-powerful and immortal, but so were the titans. And the protogenoi, the primordials. See where I'm going to and coming from?
And all the gods, from what I heard and briefly seen, act like one layered onion stereotypes. Sad.
Final being on my list: my old, old man, grandpa dearest. The Crooked One. Or as a personal favorite, the Crazy Evil Farmer. But he is a shitload of stuff to think through Mig- my companion migraine- right now.
But you see… if I wanted this place to be decent enough for me to stay, adding a bit of my own arrangements seemed like a good start. But subtlety, however, isn't always overrated.
I sat on top of Cabin Three, my father's cabin, observing… and sighing. Everything was a routine. Everything had a schedule. Bathrooms, showers, activites, classes, food times. I am not against order, but this is overkill.
I don't do routine and expectations. I hate them. I tried for my first couple days, but it didn't work out. So, I just kept popping from place to place.
My first visit to Cabin Nine almost turned me to Perci-chow and me no likey Peri-chow. But I got what I wanted in the end.
"What the Hades?"
"How the fuck did you get in here?"
"Alright, who messed with the security system?"
"What the fuck are you doing on top of the forge?!"
"Is she fucking crazy?!"
"Get down, Percillia," the cabin's counselor finally took charge of the chaos.
"Of course, Becky," I answered with a cheeky smile. The African-American seemed a bit disgruntled with his new nickname. Meh.
"What are you doing here?" He seemed genuinely curious, that the harsh question didn't seem harsh at all.
"I came to request a couple things," I looked around the steampunk-themed workshop/forge. "Do you have somewhere we could discuss stuff? I don't think here is the best of places."
He studied me for awhile but nodded. He called for two of his siblings to follow.
We reached a very nice looking lounge. I looked around, "Nice place you got there."
"We made it ourselves," the tanned girl said.
"Every part of it," her other brother added.
"Well you did one hell of a job," I complemented with an appreciative smirk. "I know for a fact that if any of my usual clients saw this… they'd want their own. And these people have no problems in their financial departments."
All three swelled with pride and gave me hesitant smiles, unlike the permanent scowls they all shared.
Make them feel important…
The place was modern and easy on the eyes, but highly impressive. There was a very… pleasurable-looking bar, but scarcely stocked. No alcohol rules suck. I smirked.
I was sprawled in a soft grey loveseat, they sat in the plump, grey armchairs.
"I suppose proper introductions are in order," I drawled and raised an eyebrow. Business mode.
"Charles Beckendorf, senior counselor of Cabin Nine," grunted the burly African American.
"Nyssa Barrera, daughter of Hephaestus."
"Jake Mason, son of Hephaestus."
"Percillia Jackson," I offered them a charming smile.
"You said you had matters you wanted to discuss," Becky looked at me expectantly.
"True. I heard that you often make… stuff for those who ask?"
They nodded slowly and disappointedly for some reason.
"True," the girl grumbled bitterly. "Usually free of charge too."
Ah, that's where the disappointment came from. They feel cheated.
"If you wanted us to make you something we could have easily discussed this in the workshop," grunted Beck.
"I wanted to do business with you." I crossed my legs. "Meaning, I will be paying you for your work. I'm not one to ignore someone's effort."
They relaxed slightly.
"You'd be the first," hummed Jake.
"And what is it do want us to make?" Beckendorf questioned, a bit more intrigued now.
"Oh, I have a lot of things in mind," I waved my hand dismissively. "But let's start small, eh?" I need to know their limits and how much I could trust them.
"Sounds reasonable enough," he answered while Jake produced a notepad.
"How do automatons sounds?" I asked with a smirk.
"Damn, girl," Nyssa whistled.
"If that is what she calls simple, I'm afraid what she finds complex," Jake said bewildered. Charles grunted in agreement.
"What? Are automatons to much for you guys?" I asked innocently with wide eyes.
"Hell, no. Finally, something fun to do around here," Nyssa smirked at me. I decided I liked her.
"Good to hear, Nyss."
"What and how many do you want?" I liked Becky's straightforward nature.
"Combatant automatons." Jake began taking notes. "It would be nice if each automaton would be different. Humanoid but incorporated with different fighting styles and techniques, various weapons, and, if possible, could re-assemble themselves. I want them element-resistant… to an extent. I want it unique to each one of you. I like random," I smiled indulgently. "I need it for training purposes. I don't think normal camp training will be enough for me. And I suppose you saw my… initiation spar with Clarisse La Rue?" They nodded. "And, for your information, we were both holding back a bit. I need to be constantly training. My life was dangerous before, now I have to watch my back from two fronts," I muttered the last part lowly.
They seemed to not notice though. The smiths seemed in heaven. They smiled at me.
"How many do you want?" Jake asked excitedly.
"That really is up to you and the rest of your siblings," I hummed.
"Any last requests?" Nyssa's smile was almost mad.
"I want you to go crazy with them," I returned a Cheshire smile. "No restraints."
"You do know that will takes us a while. We don't usually get commissioned with a project like yours," Charles raised an eyebrow, though he seemed eager as well, though he was subtler than his siblings.
"Of course," I waved his concern away. "I also know you are way faster and better than any mortal I could have employed. And, well, you are family."
Make them feel wanted…
They smiled and I honestly felt happier. Family is everything after all.
"Now let's talk money." Those poor blokes weren't comfortable to ask for it. Let me see what they have in mind, before I open my mouth with a price. "I want the materials, time and effort included."
"We don't really know how transactions work outside of camp borders. The whole 'strawberry business' is governed by Cabin Twelve, Cabin Four and the Big House. Also,I have a feeling you know a lot about the finances concerning our project. I wouldn't want to suggest a price too high or too low," Beckendorf smirked.
"Fair enough," I shrugged and leaned back on the comfy loveseat, not bothered at all. "Prices for robots usually range from 50,000 to 2,000,000 dollars. It depends on complexity and the quality. Also, sentiment. Which I do not want."
Jake coughed and Nyssa had to slap his back. All of them looked bewildered and open-mouthed. It was my turn to smirk.
"Come on, did you really think I'd cheat you? Have more faith in me dickheads," I drawled with a pout. "How about…five hundred grand per automaton? I'll pay you when everything is done, and I have my package secured. I'll even pay tips in Drachmas…."
Needless to say I left Cabin Nine in a very celebratory mood. I also asked Nyssa to teach me how to make bullets for my firearms. She agreed but refused to take any money.
Until today the Hephaestus cabin was working on my automatons. I also receive random little contraptions from time to time.
I'd made my own bullets. They were an alloy of celestial bronze- I still prefer calling them glowy metal- and mortal metal. Lou Ellen, a friendly daughter of Hecate, had charmed my guns to never run out of ammo as a thank you for her Claiming. She insisted and who am I to kick a gift horse in the mouth? Or any horse for that matter?
Also, Grover appeared the next day with all my stuff and my mother's. I hugged the shit out of him and kicked the crap out too. The idiot also got me the battered and bloody and stinking Minotaur's head and it's two severed horns.
The sight of the head frightened everyone in the Cabin, some even hurled. I was enjoying myself immensely.
Some Ares kid- Mark- took the head, he said he'll put it in a formaldehyde solution to preserve it. The thing already had maggots crawling around. I had special plans for the head. Very special. Mwahahahaha!
Grover thought I'd be mad at him and hate him. I hate how insecure he could get. Fucker. I shoved some sense into his little goat brain. He left, looking brighter, to meet a 'friend.' I scoffed at him, could've fooled me. The idiot basically had heart eyes when he talked about Juniper, a redheaded dryad. Just kiss already, dammit!
There is so much fucking repressed potential in this place it's depressing. But, that is why I am here.
What's the point of being a child of a godsdamned god if you couldn't get benefits out of it, except for a permanent target on your back, an invitation for monsters? And a lifetime of Mommy and Daddy issues?
Like the Aphrodite kids for example. Those can be as vicious as piranhas when they want or need to be. My hair still seems to remember how many hairstyles were tried on it. All that happened because I asked for clothes…. But can you really blame me? I had to walk around camp in one of Dio's fluffy towels till I reached Cabin Ten.
Which also reminded me of my first shower here, and my twice-a-day ones too…Hehe.
"What in our Uncle's name are you doing here, Nixie?" His voice was drowsy and suffering.
"Good morning to you, too, Dio," I threw him a kiss over my shoulder.
"Why," he sounded so tired I almost felt bad… Nah! "Are you in my drawers? And Naked? Shoo!"
"Oi," I protested. "I have a towel on FYI. And it is not my fault that your daddy chose to blow up my car and therefore all my clothes."
"But why are you in my closet?" He almost whined. I also noticed he took the form of the college boy. Awww, he cares about my migraine. I'll leave him glass of wine with a straw…
I looked back and smirked, "I was hoping you'd be into crossdressing."
I left the poor god spluttering, as red as his wine and absolutely speechless. Ah… the memories. But after seeing the lavender shampoo in his collection, I couldn't stop myself, even for considering the possibility of incineration.
I think my impulse control went on a permanent vacation to Honolulu. Fuck you, I don't need impulse control… which explains why I tend to either sit on Luke and the Stolls' laps or on top of table itself during meals, including other Cabins' tables… Eh.
Back to the Aphrodite kids, they were wicked with razors, nale files and whips.
"Do you never do anything but gossip and look pretty?" I was genuinely curious.
"Are you saying we're weak and petty?" Drew Tanaka snapped. That bitch was one hell of a character. As sharp and deadly as the razor held threateningly in her hand.
I raised an eyebrow. "I never said that," I said in a sweet voice and smile. "You did."
"What are you getting at, Perci?" Silena raised an eyebrow, miffed if not a little intrigued. Who the hell said all pretty faces were dumb?
"It's just a thought," I shrugged innocently and sat on top of one of the many dressers, looking at the now curious and a bit furious faces. (Hehe, I am the rhyming mistress. What? No! Ew. Begone Apollo, dude of poetry…)
"You got two seconds to elaborate," little Lacy raised a nail file threateningly. I desperately tried not to coo at her adorableness.
"I mean, your mother certainly doesn't do nothing. She is an Olympian for a reason, a powerful Olympian at that. Like… who shot the love arrows, or arrows in general, before Eros or the Archer Twins were born? And the whip? BDSM sounds quite interesting, but I'm pretty sure a whip is a viable, hell deadly and sexy weapon to master. Fuck, I got my whip from a godsdamn Fury a couple days ago…. Ooh, nice sheath." I turned to them with my infamous kitten eyes, "Can I have it? Kýma really needs one…"
The sheath was so pretty I was sure I was making grabby hands and heart eyes at it. The thing showed a sea serpent- that looked exactly like Kýma's serpent- with the background of bronze and gold shattered by black. The entire sheath was encrusted with sapphires, emerald and rubies. It was breathtaking.
You know what? Screw it. Kýma was now in sheath worthy of her beauty. I strapped it to my thigh. And ignored their bewildered and shocked reactions.
Make them feel vain…
The faces though angry were interested. After all, no one likes to feel weak. I looked over my shoulder as I reached the door. I narrowed my eyes and glared at them, "Never, never let stereotypes define you. Your children of gods for a reason. And I'm sure under all that makeup is not what anyone might expect." I then smirked, "And that what makes it all the more interesting."
They had something to think over now. And, well, the look on the Ares campers' faces, hell all the campers, was priceless when the children of Aphrodite started to regularly visit the arena. Love and War are close for a reason. Though screwing is not what I'm hinting at, but that is a viable answer… sometimes.
I managed to convince the Hermes kids to invest a bit more in their father's other domains. Gods know he has a lot of those.
"So your telling me you want us to start a trade business." Travis was a little slow today.
"And you want us to be in control of it." So was Connor apparently.
I sighed, agitated. If I spend another ten minutes with the sons of Hermes, I might strangle them. "It really isn't that hard to believe. Your father is also the god of trade, not just thievery and trickery. Gods know how little cash one can earn in a financially devastated camp."
"I'm not against the idea of a demigod business," Chris Rodriguez, a newly Claimed son of Hermes, said. "But, as you said, we are financially devastated. How do plan on going through with it?" He raised a challenging eyebrow.
I smirked, finally some progress. "I'll give you a loan, a head start. But I'll be owning 25% of the business."
"Don't you think 25% is a bit much?" Luke questioned, finally involving himself. Now we're finally talking business.
"Not at all, Lukey," I said with a cheeky smile. "After all, you are starting with my own, hard-earned money. I could claim the entire establishment if I wanted."
They seemed to accept it well enough. We then spent the rest of the day, Cabin Eleven and I, planning. What would they sell, where to get it from, communication methods… the likes.
Make them feel useful…
We ended up agreeing to use 'portal-like-tablets'- as a little son of Hermes so nicely put it. Meaning that just like the Hermes Overnight Express works by putting the money in a pouch with what you want sent, poof! and shit's done, but instead of a pouch we'll be using a two-way tablet. It will advertise and display the merchandise and goods we're selling. A demigod purchases an object, places money on the screen, and- once again, poof!- you got your purchase on your screen, delivered and ready for you. Children of Hecate truly live up to their mama's name.
Demigods can also sell as well as buy, but there is an interest of ten percent of the earnings, for now, for selling and fifteen percent for buying, like taxes. Truly profitable, and not a waste of money, if executed properly.
We decided to go exotic but still ironic with the name. Al-Tajir. It means the merchant in Arabic. I love that confusing as shit language. You are most likely to find a lost sock than two Arab countries speaking the same Arabic…. It's so damn cool! A bit like the different accents of English, but all the more different and confusing. Hehe.
Anywho, seems like Cabin Nine has a whole other project on its way. And I don't hear them complaining. I mean, personal trinkets and weapon making sound okay, but who the hell wants to do nothing but weapon maintenance every-fucking-day?
Everyone seemed happy for now. Who the hell wouldn't like to make money?
Things were going well. And- did you know that children of Demeter had a bit of control over weather condition? They certainly didn't.
It was nice seeing the ecstatic look on Katie Gardner's face when she managed to lower the temperature a little beside her siblings in their personal greenhouse (though they all passed out a minute later….) Of course I invited myself in and hung upside down from the blue Oak tree. Blue tree! What's next? Weed?!
But seriously did none of them learn anything from Persephone's Abduction? (Or was it the Rape of Persephone? Eh.) Demeter, though mostly a pacifist, could turn into a cold-hearted ass bitch when she wanted too and freeze the earth, and bring draughts and starve people to death without a thought. The entire 'Jack-and-the-beanstalk-mojo' was getting old. Hell they passed out from overexertion! Where is the stamina people?! But practice makes perfect.
Everybody needs an addition to their bag of tricks every now and then.
Clarisse was doing well with the new arrangements. Everybody got what they need during training. Her cabin, although gives you the impression of fucked-up, crappy, and stinking-like-shit, was actually very neat in a militaristic way. Beds are made, belongings in trunks in front of their owners bed, and oh my gods! the drool-worthy weapons from every-time and place lined up on the red walls with one wall solely left for spoils, and the rock music blaring loudly.
The Ares campers were pretty cool once you get along with the scowls and fight-me-punk! vibes. I got a neat katana when I won an arm wrestling match with Mark, after he gave me the floating head of the Minotaur in a tank. "That is the best fucking thing I've seen all week." One of them commented. Bloody fuckers.
We got along pretty good. Like a house on fire. Literally. Chiron was not pleased. We just cackled like hyenas. What? The weapons shed looks- looked pathetic. It didn't take long for us to rebuild it awesomer. Ares kids are wicked in fort building. And it's not the pillow or cardboard type.
Annabeth was also not pleased. But she forgave me after literally dragging me kicking and screaming to her cabin with the help of her brother, Malcolm Pace. Those sons of a bitch.
"Why?! Why are you doing this to me, Annie?!" I wailed in desperation.
But those, those….ugh!, forced me to read a college level book on Shakespeare. I was scarred. Math? Okay. Science? Sure. Shakespeare? Fuck-the-hell-off. And Dyslexia is still a bitch, by the way.
"So you'll willingly stay if we let you read books on science, mythology and from the archives and let you stay upside down, hanging from the rafters? Did I get that right?" Annie was astounded at my level of absurd, irrational rationality. But honestly, I would do anything to get my hands on those ancient scrolls and documents in the archives under the cabin. No one but Chiron and them know about it. And now me. I had to use it to hide from the excruciating sonnets. Seriously those assheads are as wicked as the Wicked Witch of the West.
"Pretty much, yeah," I shrugged. She looked a bit constipated. Ah, well.
She pretty much got over it after I began random debates spontaneously in random different languages, including the dead ones, while I was in the cabin. They stopped shushing me like divorced librarian widowers when they actually found me spouting random information when I talk or ask questions that give them a pause.
Like: "Did you know people can suffer from a psychological disorder called Boanthropy that makes them believe that they are a cow? They try to live their life as a cow….Apollo would be proud." I mean the dude has those dumb, slow and red cattle of his….
And "The medical name for a butt crack is intergluteal cleft… Huh."
"A duel between three people is called a truel...When the fuck did this happen?"
And a personal favorite, "Why the hell does a snail have 14,000 teeth! And why can some kill you?"
The Athena bunch weren't that bad. They were like a pretty owl. Silent(mostly), observing, smart, and absolutely, hecking vicious near their unfortunate prey.
Also now that I usually sleep more often, I somehow- a miracle really- managed to convince Annabeth to come with Clarisse and I's nighttime drink-outs. She was way too uptight to be healthy for her. It became frequent, those drink-outs.
Dumb shits were everywhere, and Dio's wine was, well, heavenly. I also came to trust them, and I have a feeling they did too. But Annie and Clarisse didn't need to know that. And since they figured out who my godly sperm donor was after my 'Epic Spar Weapon Royale' adding to the fact I was too tired to do anything about it or denying it…. They really are my first real friends in Camp Half-Blood. Even if both can be bitches and know-it-all's.
'Cause, I really don't know if I can trust people who cry their heart outs and then sneak out in the middle of the night to talk to villainous voices in their head a trustworthy friend. Even if I kick myself everyday that I began looking at them as an older brother. (Emotions cloud judgements.) But they show too much genuine concern and care… it's very hard to remember that they're traitors and appear in my dreams talking to Crooked Ones and Twisted Fucks.
But we all need to keep up our pretenses, don't we?
Although, you got to admit. Having a missionary, assassin for a mother and being one yourself is pretty damn awesome. And, oh the perks.
Also, my cousin is a tree? What the hell?
"Are you telling me that you are the landmark on top of this hill?" I said slowly.
"Yup," Thalia Grace, a daughter of Zeus, my cousin, and apparent pinecone tree, nodded.
"A pinecone tree?"
"Uh-huh."
"I mean, I heard about your dad fucking up," I began. "But this is a whole new level of Zeus-fucked-up." The punk-girl nodded sagely, which looked ridiculous in the strait-jackets we all seem to be wearing in this infernal all-white room.
"I think my baby brother is short-circuiting," Thalia smirked at the stunned Jason. That seemed to snap him out of it.
"You do know we are almost the same age now, right?" He glared and scowled at us.
And Thalia, Bianca and I all cooed at him. "He's so adorable."
"Hard luck bro," Nico grunted unapologetically at the scowling Jason. Little Hazel just giggled.
Yes, yes she is older than me mentally and- for now!- physically I shall still entitle her as Little Hazel. "So what is your tragic story, Little Hazel?" She didn't even bother correcting me. I think they all got accustomed- slightly- to Thals, Bia and I purposely messing up their age.
"I died," she said bluntly.
"Huh." Was many of our intelligent responses and, "Oh." made an appearance as well.
"And I am condemned to wander the Fields of Asphodel with my memories intact for eternity," she continued.
"That sucks," Nico commented, breaking the awkward silence that followed Little Hazel's declaration.
"At least Aunties gave you a break to talk to us every now and then," I told her, grimacing.
"Aunties?" The daughter of Hades with amnesia out of this dreamscape said. Her brother also seemed that way too.
"It's what I call the Fates," I shrugged. "Which reminds me. I need to have one hell of a talk with them sometime."
"Honestly," Thalia scoffed. "I'm not surprised by your blasé attitude any more."
"Well, seems like our time is over, kids," Jason said with false-enthusiasm and a mock-glare when the scene began dissolving.
"Bye, bye, my fucked-up cousins!" Was my enthusiastic farewell.
Honestly all I keep getting from my dreams is that Zeus is major dick. Striking down his brothers' lovers, turning his daughter into a tree, basically selling his youngest son to his vindictive-ass wife to literally throw him to the wolves. That dick needs to not get some for some time.
So, Nico and Bianca di Angelo are children of Hades while Thalia Grace is a daughter of Zeus. And Little Hazel is- was or is…? is- a daughter of Pluto, which makes her the Roman half-sister of the di Angelo's. Also Jacey is a son of Jupiter, Thalia's baby full-blooded baby brother. Which means Zeus shagged the same woman while having an identity crisis….
And of course we all ignore the Roman Schizophrenia of our godly sperm and egg donors. We, Greek and Roman fuckwads-oops, are not supposed to mingle, apparently we all stay single…. (Hehe. I am hilarious.)
And have I mentioned my father-slash-godly-sperm-donor-until-he-does-fucking-something-about-it's flummox letter? It sound completely like the word 'flummox' confusing and indecipherable, yet not so confusing if the weird word is to go by since it means confusing and came from the Athena cabin's daily vocabulary. And honestly? I always wondered where I got my extreme irrational, spontaneous logic from. I found my answer.
I kóri mou, (translation: my daughter. If you are an Illiterate fuck and need it.)
Brace Yourself….
PS. I might claim you today after you do some epic shit during Capture the Flag, tonight. Just felt that you needed to know. Ciao!
PPS. Fuck some shit up. Make daddy proud, princess!
PPPS. Also, get ready for your first parent-embarrassing moment. I know for a fact Sally is too cool for that. And I've been the creepy stalker, though you already know that….
PPPPS. Seriously, brace yourself. You've got some fucked up uncles. Chiron doesn't count.
So yeah…. I have nothing to say about that.
On that weird-ass note, I gotta get fitted for armour, though I told Chiron and my I-enjoyed-this-way-too-much idiot immortal cousin I just don't do armour, it will slow me the fuck down, I'd gladly wear my favorite, blessed, indestructible green hoodie-sweater (thanks sperm donor dad!) and that it is armour enough. But nooooooo, "It's tradition, Perci," and, "Don't be like that, child," and "Just wear the damn thing, Nixie. Shoo!" and, "Scared I'd beat you, Prissy?" and, "Why are you like that, Seaweed Brain?" and finally, "Just pass by Cabin Nine, kitten."
Also, FYI Annabeth is only smart enough to only call me Seaweed Brain when the anti-misogyny and sexism Triumvirate is alone and getting drunk. The camp began calling the 'by far the top three deadliest females in camp'- also known as Annabeth Chase, Clarisse La Rue and Perci Jackson- the Triumvirate. I like the name….Oh wait no I don't. Keeping up pretenses and all. But you gotta admit it makes your ego purr in a sense of accomplishment.
And I'm off track again. Dammit!
I gave into peer pressure, and promise of more underage drinking. Whoohoo!
Don't do that kids, you might find yourselves drunk and in the middle of a meeting in the Pentagon with a flamethrower. And that is how I, Deliria Rheason (What? It rhymes with Percillia Rhea Jackson… a bit. You don't judge me! I was drunk and school was a bore.), ended up wanted by the CIA. I barely got out. Actually, I was caught and interrogated.
I was seriously glad mom ignored me this time and insisted on giving me a tracking device and a two-way earpiece. That woman fabricated the new persona of Deliria Rheason in a matter of one hour while I was in a cat and mouse chase in one of the world's most secure facilities. She also put all the crimes from my other aliases and actual me on that persona. Seriously, I love that name. They pronounced Rheason like 'reason.' Though I pronounce it something like ray-ya-son. Delirium and reason! Irony at its finest
Also, it was a good thing that I dyed my hair platinum white with bluish white streaks…. Well, not dyed technically, it was more like I frosted my black hair on a panicked whim (when I found a couple dozen laser beams from the security system pointing at me and blinding my poor pupil-dilated eyes) and light hitting it made it look like blue highlights…? And I frosted my irises? And it didn't hurt, but actually kept the laser from melting my eyes. Camouflage: 100.
Mom didn't seemed shocked at all, but proud and smug. I love that woman to death.
And I got side-tracked again, dammit! Anywho, me just jumped off the Cabin's roof and made her way to Cabin Nine. Me was ready to 'fuck some shit up' tonight.
Annabeth hates it when I talk that way. Hehe.
Hey, guys... SO, I would like to ask if any one is interested in giving me ideas on the automatons Perci would need for her training. Pretty please. Help. This is the fourth draft for this chapter, and honeslty people? Please review. They give me a sense of accomplishment and hope that someone actually reads this... and inspiration too, honest! Enough of me.
3anona, out!