A Christian Among Pagans: Part One

Alright, due to an almost unanimous sentiment of not putting this on the shelf yet, here we are. However, I also recognize the need to go back to my other stories and begin further work on those. Therefore, here's the deal:

This chapter will focus on Percy's first days at Camp, ending with the CTF event. After the claiming, Percy will go to the Big House because he sees glowing lights and flashing symbols (the Sword), and when he touches the Sword, it will trigger him going into a mini-coma, which will officially kick off the Second Life arc. After the arc, I will be taking a break from this fic, and return to her sisters for a time.

With that now said, Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or AC

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Inspired by historical events and an over-active imagination, this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a single-cultural team of one religious faith and belief, sexual orientation, and gender identity.

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June 6, 2006

Camp Half-Blood

The morning after Percy slaughtered the Minotaur

In another life, the son of Poseidon would've spent days in a coma as his body recovered from such a sudden use of such large amounts of divine power. A twelve-year-old defeating the Minotaur was no small task, especially for one who had just come into his godly heritage, but this Percy, this reincarnate Percy, had been in touch with his powers for half a year now, and as such, was much more 'in-shape' than so many billions of other Percys.

Because of this, when one Annabeth Chase bent over to put the feeding straw of some nectar to Percy's lips, he shot wide awake. The biggest problem was, his freshest memory was of his battle with the Minotaur, and his mother being either killed or taken, and a sense of all-encompassing rage. Moreover, he woke up in an unknown environment, surrounded by unknown people, with an unknown girl trying to feed him an unknown substance.

All of this tied back to the biggest problem, and the biggest problem was that Percy woke up from a battle…still thinking he was in the middle of a battle.

And an Assassin in battle mode, surrounded entirely by unknowns, therefore no innocents, was a very lethal machine.

Percy's hand shot up with blinding speed, knocking the foreign glass away from him. This movement caused the sheet to fly up, therefore the blonde girl was caught entirely off-guard, not that she wasn't already stunned through her shorts, by the fist that met her cheek. The blonde went crashing to ground, and Percy was already moving.

As he sprang to his feet, he noted that he seemed to be processing things in slow motion. With this higher cognition, the boy noticed several things. He was in what appeared to be a hospital ward, with a few more beds lining both walls. Only one other was occupied. The floors were hardwood, the walls and ceiling were white, and the support beams in the middle of this room were also painted white. There windows, all with various things along the sills, and all of them showed some kind of farm outside.

Moreover, Percy saw that more hostiles were rushing at him.

His free hand, the one not grabbing a fist full of pristine white sheet, snapped out, grabbing the now-empty glass of liquid, its contents having splashed everywhere. Spinning on the ball of his foot, the boy smashed the glass against the head of the first hostile, a dark-skinned boy with dreads, knocking him out like a light. Still moving, still tracking the hostiles, Percy swiped with his other hand, causing the sheet in his grasp to whack the incoming brunette girl in the face, sending her off-balance. Whipping his upper body back around, Percy's fist met the girl's shins, and she went down hard, smacking her face into the hardwood floor.

His gaze snapping up, Percy threw the sheet into the face of the second boy, then spun around to where he was on the opposite side of a support beam. The boy, distracted by the sheet and his vision obscured, stumbled forward, and got viciously close-lined when Percy whipped around the support beam, muscular arm extended. The Assassin didn't know it, but he had just taken down a daughter of Athena and three children of Apollo, all four of them with multiple years of training under their belts, in less than ten seconds.

But the battle was not over, and Percy still wasn't thinking straight.

He looked up just in time to bring his hands up to block a fist aimed at his face. Body still reacting instead of thinking, Percy grabbed the offending wrist with one hand, jerked it back, while sending his other hand crashing into the gut of whoever was attacking him with such force that they doubled over with an audible 'UGH!'. The person now sufficiently stunned, Percy turned around, his hand still on the person's wrist, and brought the arm across his shoulder.

Then he jerked down with all that he had.

The person collapsed to the ground, arm bent at a very wrong angle, with a groan. That's when Percy noticed that the person was covered in eyes. Many eyes. Eyes for days. The boy blinked at this, trying to wrap his head around this phenomenon. How was this possible?

...wait a second.

Minotaur, Fury, Chiron the centaur, Dodds the Fury, Grover the satyr, a special summer camp, a man with eyes covering his body, existence of Greek gods…oh shit. Percy darted over to a window, and saw the same sights as he had a literal lifetime ago. U-shaped cabins, lava wall, forge, farm area, children in orange. Yep, this was Camp Half-Blood, and then those kids he just beat up…well, he could've still had his Hidden Blades on his wrists.

Could've been a lot worse.

Now that he thought about it, Percy just realized he wasn't wearing his clothes. The jeans were freshly laundered, and felt newer than the ones he was wearing twenty-four hours ago. He also wasn't wearing his blue shirt, nor his white hoodie. He was wearing an orange tee with the words…brace yourselves…Camp Half-Blood boldly emblazoned across the front in white.

Then other things caught up to Percy. The strength he possessed when he fought the Minotaur, the fact that his mother was elsewhere, possibly taken by a pagan, possibly in the arms of God, his Hidden Blades were not anywhere near him, and the guy with the eyes was Argus, created by Hera to protect a cow from Zeus.

"Uhhhhh…"

Percy slowly looked down at the pile of semi-dead bodies. None of them were stirring, since Argus was unconscious, most likely due to pain. So who was groaning? The answer came in the form of the blonde girl's arm shooting up from the opposite side of the bed, coming down on top of the mattress, and the hauling herself up with a twitching eye…and a green bruise on her cheek.

"Ow."

Percy had the decency to smile somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I have a bad tendency to use barely-less than lethal force when fist-fighting hostiles."

The girl's eye twitched some more. "What about us…came off…as hostile?" she asked tersely.

"Nothing really, just the fact that I don't know where I am, who any of you are, and my last memories are of my mother being kidnapped by a Fury and me killing the Minotaur with a pencil."

The girl stared at him with a wide-eyed expression.

"My name's Percy Jackson. You?"

"…Annabeth…Annabeth Chase…"

Percy activated Eagle Vision, and saw that the girl's aura was grey. "You wouldn't happen to be a daughter of Athena, would you?"

Annabeth gasped. "H-How…?"

"Lucky guess." Then Percy noticed something that he hadn't noticed before, and a new sense of panic engulfed. "Where's my Bible?"

The question jolted Annabeth out of her shock over the situation, because her face screwed up into one of a strange mix of confusion and sneer. "A bible? What would a half-blood like us need a bible for?"

Percy stared at the blonde. 'A half-blood like us'…that answered the question of where Percy's hydrokinesis came from, but not the one regarding his Bible. So he reiterated. "Where is my Bible?"

"Percy, was it? You're a Greek demigod. You have no business reading a book like that."

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To the onlookers of Camp Half-Blood, those that were milling around, or running errands, or heading to the bathroom, or whatever their business was, they saw the new kid come thundering out of the infirmary with a face to match his pace. His eyes darted around as he moved, before he zeroed in on the Big House, and angled his course in that direction.

Shortly after this, Annabeth Chase came running out of the infirmary, a nasty bruise on her cheek, a panicked look on her face. A few curious people took a quick peek inside the camp's personal hospital, and their jaws dropped at seeing Lee Fletcher, Austin Lake, and Kayla Knowles unconscious on the ground with visible wounds that were eerily similar to those doled out by the children of Ares during CTF. They also saw Argus, the hundred-eyed security guard, lying on his side, all eyes closed, his arm bent at a sickening angle.

Those who looked in the infirmary found their gazes slowly turning to the retreating back of the new kid.

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Eagle Vision was such a useful little power. With it, Percy didn't have to waste time scouring the grounds for his old (ancient) friend. Just a quick glance around, and the giant farm house was glowing a conspicuous gold. So that's where Percy went. He attracted attention, of course, since it wasn't every day a twelve-year-old made a war path for a building (and there bound to be some backlash later about beating up those people, but he would deal with that later), especially the new kid.

There was also no telling what these pagan children knew. They might know who his 'godly' parent was (still digesting that), they might know his mother is missing, they might know he killed the Minotaur, and they might know he's a Christian. Bottom line, Percy got some stares as he made his way for the farmhouse.

Walking up the front steps to the wooden porch, Percy saw Chiron, in a wheelchair, Grover, nervous and sweating, and an unknown man wearing a hideous leopard-print shirt sipping a can of Diet Coke, all playing a card game. Using Eagle Vision on the man revealed a very intense purple aura, one that swirled and calmly lashed about at nothing. So this is what a pagan god looked like.

Percy was unimpressed, and he wasn't here to bow to false gods.

"Chiron, where's my Bible?"

His sudden appearance startled all but the pagan, with Chiron simply flinching, and Grover making a grand display of throwing his chair back, throwing his cards into the air, and falling to his butt. The pagan took a sip from his Coke.

"A Bible? That's one I haven't heard in a few centuries. I thought Christianity was a dying religion."

Percy stared at the god for a good, long, terrifying while.

The pagan glanced at the boy. "What?"

Percy stared for a while longer, then he shook his head. "You poor unfortunate soul," he muttered so quickly it was hard to hear him, then he said louder, "Chiron. Bible. Where it be?"

"Ah! Yes, come along with me, Mr. Jackson."

Just then, Annabeth came running in, gasping for breath. Grover acknowledged her presence first. "Oh my gods! Annabeth, your cheek!"

"Huh? Oh yeah…you can thank Percy here for that."

The pagan took another swig of his coke, while Chiron paled slightly. "Explain, child."

Annabeth was quick to recount how Percy had violently awoken from his slumber, proceeded to catch her by surprise and then go on to beat the living crap out of Lee, Austin, Kayla, and Argus. The Assassin made a side note to go apologize to those people later. God, that was going to be awkward: Hey, I'm the kid that knocked you out; sorry about that, I thought you were an enemy.

Would it be that easy? Percy's ADHD mind began to wonder. Would they want something in compensation, demand some kind of act be done? Would they just let it slide with a firm handshake and a broad smile? Does this place have some kind of disciplinary system? If it did, what did it entail? The Ancient Greeks were really creative with their punishments-

"Boy, if you do not return back to this plane of existence this instant, I will turn you into a dolphin."

The glaze disappeared from Percy's eyes, and he was immediately on Chiron's case. "Bi-ble," he overenunciated.

"Right. Grover, you'll be fine. Annabeth, please take my spot at the table while I talk with Mr. Jackson here alone."

"But-"

"Now, Ms. Chase."

The blonde gulped nervously. The pagan smirked. "My, I haven't heard you use a voice that stern since the Great War."

Chiron exhaled, "Indeed." Then he was rising out of his wheelchair, revealing his horse half. Percy cocked a brow. So, that's how that worked. Okay then. The centaur nodded to the boy, and began to lightly trot away from the farmhouse to where saw the edge of the white dome around the camp. Percy followed swiftly.

The two found a place to converse behind a tree, away from the prying eyes of everyone.

Chiron coughed awkwardly. "Ah, Percy, it is-"

"Bible. Give. Now."

The centaur felt a wave of disturbance slither through him. The way that Percy continued to demand for his Bible, the pointed look, the clipped tone, those piercing eyes…Chiron had seen this behavior correspond more with daughters of the Big Three than their sons. Last time Chiron checked, the child before him was male, but if his hunch about the boy's father was correct, then, well…there was this one child of Poseidon, many, many years ago, who had inherited the strange power to adapt abilities from all manner of sea life.

Said child was a bit of a sociopath, who found a strange amusement in using the ability of the clownfish to alter their gender on a whim, and then proceeding to screw with anyone present. Chiron prayed Percy would not be like that child…assuming Percy is a son of Poseidon, of course.

Still, Chiron had found the all-important Bible in the wreckage of the car that Zeus had no doubt destroyed, and had kept it safe with him until he and Percy could have some one-on-one time. Reaching into his jacket, the old teacher brought the child's Bible.

Percy's face lit up in equal parts relief and excitement. "Thank you," he said, as he reverently accepted the book. Staring at the simple black cover with a cross stamped onto its center, Percy ran his hand over the Bible, before he looked up at Chiron. "I trust you have a few questions, then?"

"Yes. How do you know Arabic?"

"I learned it in a dream I had about a Middle-Eastern man who lived in the late 12th century."

"I see, and what was this man's name?"

"Faris Ibn-La'Ahad."

Chiron went still, but his face conveyed that he was not surprised. "Nothing is True…"

"…and Everything is Permitted. So, centaur, how have you been these past 800 years?"

"Faris," Chiron breathed, "is that…is it really you?"

"Yes and no. After Faris died, he wasn't allowed into Heaven on the grounds that God still had work for him to do. On the first day of school, I took a nap in class, and dreamt of his entire life. I woke up, and everything was different."

"Reincarnation, then?"

"Of a sort, I suppose. Hey, how did all the demigods react to you teaching them about the Creed?" A stormy look of such dark emotion crossed Chiron's face that Percy almost felt threatened.

"The youngest son of Kronos is a fickle and petty being, a powerful one, for sure, but petty nonetheless. Minutes, mere minutes, after you left and gave me the Sword, the god descended from Olympus, demanding that I give it to him."

Percy paled. "Tell me you didn't-"

"I almost did. As much as I didn't want to, he is still the King of Olympus, and one does not simply disobey someone like that, but as I handed the Sword over, another's hand touched the blade. The third hand belonged to a very powerful individual, I believe you would know him best as Michael."

Percy's eyes widened.

"The King, petty as he was, tried to fight the archangel…and promptly had his divine posterior handed to him on a silver platter. Michael soon left, but not before decreeing that it was God's will that I keep the Sword in my possession. Amazingly, the King let that issue to rest, but he was still throwing a tantrum at not getting his toy, and being told he could never have his toy.

"So, he decided to wipe all minds of the Templar attack, the Sword, and you, while also making me swear on the River Styx to never tell any Grecian entity of those events, and to not teach anyone of the wisdom you imparted unto to me that night."

Percy stared at the Chiron with a horrified expression. "That's disgusting!"

'More so if the person in question is your uncle.'

"That's…that's…ugh! I can't even put into words…! What's the River Styx?"

Chiron snorted at the sudden ADHD moment of the boy. "It is a river that upon swearing in the name of, you create a binding oath to. To break this oath is to incur drastic repercussions. For example, I swear on the River Styx that I am a centaur."

Thunder cracked in the cloudless sky.

Percy blinked. "And what happens if you break an oath?"

"It's up in the air, really. It depends on how the River is feeling. Your punishment can be anything from explosive diarrhea, to gruesome death."

Percy paled. "Then, Chiron…your previous oath…"

"Ah, but I'm not talking to a Greek entity, am I? I'm talking to a Christian one."

"Ah, a loop hole. Smart."

Chiron smiled. "I agree. So, Percy…you were a mortal in a past life, and in this one you are a demigod of…pagan decent."

"You're wondering how this affects my faith."

"I am."

"I already told you, old man," Percy smiled. "God loves all of us in equal measure. Whoever my father is has no bearing on that. Besides, God's already shown that he has some favor for us pagans, since he didn't tell Michael to end Zeus 800 years ago."

Chiron's eyes widened, before his face morphed once more into a smile. "Here I am, over three-thousand years old, and am still being taught by those far younger than me. Come, my old friend, let' get you situated in camp."

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Chiron and Percy returned to the camp grounds. As they passed the Big House, as the centaur called it, the two noticed the absence of Grover, Annabeth, and the pagan, Dionysus, more commonly called Mr. D by the campers. Chiron asked Percy to be as respectful to the wine god as his religion allowed...which really wasn't that much respect. Still, that did not mean that Percy could not be cordial to Dionysus.

Before they completely passed the wooden structure, Chiron trotted back into the house, and returned with a box. He handed it to Percy, who looked inside, and he raised a brow. "Bull horns?"

"Spoils of war. Courtesy of Pasiphae's son."

"Mm."

Percy wasn't exactly pleased to be handed a reminder that his mother had just been taken from him. The two continued on, and it was either that news of last night had been passed around, or everyone knew about the infirmary, because the Assassin was on the receiving end of many stares. Wherever they went, all activity seemed to die in favor of silent staring.

Chiron ignored this in favor of giving a seminar over the entire layout. The forge (Percy would be visiting that soon), the armory, the arena, the stables, the strawberry fields, the amphitheater, the canoeing lake, the javelin range, the lunch pavilion, and finally, the cabins. It was easy to tell which cabin belonged to which god, so Percy regrettably tuned out Chiron's lecture in favor of staring at the hearth.

Or to be more precise, the young girl tending to the flames. Under the scrutiny of Eagle Vision, she was much like Dionysus in that he aura was intense and swirling about, but this one's aura was much...calmer. More peaceful. Her color was similar to those of the flames, but unlike the children of Hephaestus, whose auras were bright and searing, like a forge, hers were duller, like a fire that had reached the middle point between going out and blazing.

Interesting.

Percy, still using Eagle Vision, turned his gaze to the cabins. They all glowed their respective colors, with Zeus' being electric blue, Hera's being a strange ivory, Poseidon's being sea green, Athena's being stormy gray, Ares' being red, Aphrodite's being pink, Hephaestus's being like a raging fire, Apollo's a dazzling sunlight yellow, Artemis' a bright silver (just like that woman's from so long ago), Demeter's a forest green, Hermes' a light blue, and Dionysus's a royal purple. Then, a strange phenomenon took place.

The glows of the cabins died away, all becoming the regular gray of non-important places, except for the cabin of Poseidon. The long, flat building of stone and coral glowed a bright gold. And when you've used Eagle Vision for as long as Percy had, you did not ignore places that were glowing gold. So the boy opened the door.

The smell of the sea breeze assaulted his senses. Inside was a basic layout of six bunk beds, pristine sheets, some lamps, a back wall that most likely had bathrooms and baths behind it, and the entire cabin had floors and walls that had the same consistency as abalone shells. It was a nice place, not too boring, not too extravagant. Percy personally thought it was a homey place.

Then Chiron's hand was on his shoulder. "Come along, Percy."

"You know I can control water, right?"

The centaur looked pained. "Please don't say that aloud."

"Why?"

"Reasons, Percy."

Whatever the reason, the boy decided to let it rest, since it was clearly a sensitive subject for the old teacher. The two continued the tour in a comfortable silence. Most of the cabins were crowded with campers, with the Ares one being host to a large girl that gave Percy a sneer. Percy gave her his patent bone-chilling stare. The girl gulped and looked away. The only other cabin that was of note was the Apollo cabin, and that was because three of its tenants had ice packs on their heads, and all three of them stared silently at Percy.

"Hey, Chiron, is there some kind of disciplinary system here?"

"You are wondering if there will be repercussions for your assault on Annabeth and the children of Apollo."

"Yes."

"Well, to answer your question, no. Not officially, at least. Punishment for anything is typically resolved between the campers themselves, whether it be through combat, a prank war, or attempted murder."

"Oh, nothing to worry about then."

"Of course, if Dionysus so chooses, he can dole out any sentence he desires."

"Uh-huh."

Chiron gained a gleam in his eye. "I do wonder...you follow the Christian faith, which dictates the devotion to God alone, and not to any pagan gods. What will you do when an Olympian or other god gives you a command?"

"Whey the merits of following through. If I should decide not to, then I won't. If I decide to follow through, then I will."

"And if you decide not to, and that god becomes angry?"

"Then I will stand firm, and let God protect me."

"I see. My old friend, in this pagan course of life that was chosen for you, I have a feeling that your faith will be tried many times."

"And in each instance, it will never waver."

Chiron chuckled good-naturedly. "That is good, my friend, that is very good."

The two eventually made it to the run-down cabin 11, the Hermes cabin. There Annabeth sat, a book on architecture written in Ancient Greek between her hands. She must have heard the approaching clip-clop of Chiron's hooves, because she looked up. Amazingly, the green bruise on her cheek had almost faded completely. Now it looked more like an obscene hickey than anything else.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have a master's archery class at noon. Would you please take Percy from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin 11...make yourself at home." With that, Chiron was off for the archery range.

In the newfound silence, Percy registered the faint whispering in his ear. Incomprehensible and soft, it was, but heard nonetheless. He panned his head around, noting how the whispering would pick up in intensity when he looked at the cabin, and then decrease when he looked away, only to pick back up again when he looked at the cabin.

Percy had heard this whispering before. It was a type of alert system, he reasoned, because every time he heard it, it was before he was pulled into an alley and threatened by thugs. So, Percy was comfortable with his assumption that there was a very large threat behind this door.

Annabeth knocked on the cabin door, and it was opened shortly by a young man, maybe 19, with handsome features, blonde hair, mischievous blue eyes, and a marring scar under his eye. He wore a kind smile, but under the power of Eagle Vision, he glowed the same red as an enemy.

"Ah, Annabeth! This a new camper?"

There was a blush on the girl's cheek, one that told Percy there was an attraction between these two. "Yes, Luke. This is Percy Jackson. Percy, this is Luke Castellan, head councilor of the Hermes cabin."

The teen held out a hand. Percy took it.

Luke pulled back after the shake. "That's a firm grip you have there, Percy."

The boy smiled in his typical aloof way. "Thank you. Does Hermes get around often?"

"Huh? Oh! You mean all the kids. Nah, I can't say he's much of a great dad, but even doesn't have that much game. No, most of these kids are actually kids from other gods."

"Then why aren't they with their cabin mates?"

A flash of a shadow flitted through Luke's eyes. "Well, in order to be in a cabin, your parents have to care about you enough to claim you as their own, so that you can be properly sorted. Until then, you get to hang out in here, since Hermes is the patron god of travelers and a nice guy all-around."

The whispering was at its loudest the entire time Percy stood before Luke, and combined with his red aura, it was easily identifiable that this demigod was an enemy to Percy. Still, Luke was popular, Percy was a nobody. Luke had everyone on his side, Percy had no one. Luke was the guy these people looked up to, Percy didn't know a soul. In layman's, he couldn't act against this enemy yet.

Not out in the open at least.

Percy entered the cabin, scanning for a place to put down his shoebox. This place was crowded, unbelievably so, and it seemed that every place to put something down was occupied by a sleeping bag. As Percy continued to fail to find space, he remembered what Luke had said: care about you enough to claim you. Using Eagle Vision, he saw every aura every child had, and could swear on this River Styx on who their parent was.

Percy frowned slightly, when, still using his power, he saw a bright golden spot on the floor. Deactivating Eagle Vision, he saw an open space, which was what made him frown. Seriously? He needed the seemingly all-seeing power of Eagle Vision to find a hole on the ground? How disappointing.

Putting down his box, but not his Bible, Percy was unsurprised when someone said, "Hey, is that a bible?" and suddenly he was on the receiving end of many weird looks. Percy just smiled coolly, "Yes, yes it is."

"Uh, why?"

"Because He is just as real as the rest of the gods. No reason not to worship him as well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a quiet place to read."

And just like that, Percy Jackson left the building with a Bible in his hand.

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He didn't get far out the cabin before the daughter of Athena was at his side, gray eyes narrowed and face scrutinous.

"Can I help you?"

"Where did you learn to fight like that? Where did you get those kinds of instincts? You woke up as soon as I put the straw to your lips, and immediately started kicking everyone's butt. I admit, you caught me by surprise, but those other three have been here for years, and are really good at fighting, and Argus is thousands of years old, and you beat him like nothing."

"I took karate lessons as a kid. I guess demigod instincts and reflexes combined with mortal martial arts is a really good combination. Sure helped me beat up all the thugs that tried to rob me when I went for a run in the city."

"A run in the city?"

"I got bored during class, so I skipped a few lessons and went for a quick run."

Annabeth looked scandalized. "You don't…you don't…you don't just skip a class!"

"Sure you do. Did it all the time." The blonde had her mouth open to further this argument, but Percy beat her to it with a question, "Hey, what's the story of the pine tree over there? Chiron just said it was a barrier, but I have a feeling that there's more."

Annabeth suddenly became forlorn and guarded. "There is," she stated darkly, almost venomously.

Okay, Percy thought, clearly some emotional issues here. "I take it that you aren't going to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Are you ever?"

"When I know who you are, then I'll decide."

Percy raised a brow, something he seemed to be doing a lot lately. "Okay, O Cryptic One. If that's all you had for me, then this is where we part ways, and I go find a nice tree to sit under, and you go do whatever it is that Annabeth does in her free time."

Annabeth's eyes widened at how she was so casually blown off like that. No one had done something like that to her, no one. And Percy hadn't even sounded rude when he said that. He sounded just as friendly and cordial as he ever did, and Annabeth was beginning to believe that the boy walking away from her had sociopathic tendencies.

Before Annabeth could do anything else, a large, lumbering shadow fell over the girl. She turned around, and was unsurprised to see four burly daughters of war standing behind her, Clarisse La Rue at the head.

"So, Miss Princess, I hear there's a newbie in town."

"Quite astute of you."

Annabeth jumped when Percy was suddenly, unbeknownst to her, about three feet away. "H-How…? Never mind. Percy, this is Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares."

"Nice to meet you, baqarat kariha."

"What did you just call me, Prissy?" Clarisse sneered.

The light in Percy's green eyes shifted, but only Annabeth noticed it, and for some strange reason, she clenched her butt together as a feeling of phantom pain came washing over her like a warm breeze.

"It is Arabic, for 'my lady.' My I inquire as to whom your chief paternal influence in life might be?"

"Huh?"

"Who's your father?"

Clarisse puffed up with pride. "Ares, god of war. Got a problem with that, Prissy?"

The boy seemed to twitch, but one more, only Annabeth noticed the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Not at all, baqarat kariha. One should not base understanding of others solely on the knowledge of who their father is, but on how they react to stimuli found in an uncontrolled environment."

"If you don't start speaking English, Prissy, I will throw your ass into the Aphrodite cabin and let them pretty you up before I smash you into the dirt."

Percy's smile never faded. "Of course. I apologize for my chosen form of tongue, I was under the impression I was in the presence of those of an intellectual status rivalling the that of intermediate students. I see now that you are of a mind more closely related to that those that attend a crèche."

Clarisse's eye twitched, not at all understanding that she had just been compared to preschoolers, but because she had just heard more words she didn't understand. Annabeth understood all of it, and she found herself hiding her chortles behind her hand. However, it seemed that she did not hide well, because Clarisse rounded on her, eyes ablaze with anger.

"Oh yeah, Princess? You think Prissy's all cute and funny? Well, let's see what you think after I'm done with initiation!"

She whirled around, fully intent on dragging Percy to the girls' bathroom and shoving his face into the toilet she just took a monster shit in—and didn't flush—only to receive the Word of God. Percy slapped Clarisse across the face, in the perfect location on the jaw, with his Bible, with enough force to spin the girl around, where she collapsed onto her face, out cold.

"The Word, mother-ducker! Do you read it!?" Percy leveled a frigid glare at the other daughters of Ares. "Well? You gonna pull those swords or whistle Dixie?" One girl uttered a single whimper, before all three picked up their sister and scampered off. Percy stared at their retreating backs with vindication in his eyes. "I do not look a girl. You do not call me 'Prissy,' and not expect to get punched in the penis or the clitoris. What?"

Annabeth was staring at Percy with that calculating look all children of Athena inherited. "I think I want you on my team this Friday."

"Okay, good for you. Now I'm going to go read—actually no, my mood is ruined. I'm going to the forges. I have a question to ask."

Annabeth could feel the amount of 'please leave me alone' the boy radiated, and so she just nodded and went off on her own, heading for her cabin. She needed to make a plan.

The bruise on her cheek from Percy's punch just a few scant hours ago was completely gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy had been in a forge before, or rather, Faris had been in a forge before. He had needed to, to learn how to craft swords and repair swords, and mostly because he wanted to. Faris had thought sword crafting was fun. While Percy did have the knowledge on how to forge a piece of metal into a lethal weapon, because Faris had once made his own set of Hidden Blades before his death, he was here for a more important reason.

Camp Half-Blood's 'arts-and-crafts' pavilion was just like one would expect. Hot, crowded, busy, and loud. Multiple raging fired danced around the place, bathing the forge in red light. Burning and hot metal were the heaviest scents in the air, with sweat coming in close second. Multiple benches were scattered about, all of them cluttered with scrap metal, unfinished projects, and armaments awaiting fixing.

Using Eagle Vision to cut through the borderline haze, Percy found the head councilor without having to ask around and interrupt one of the humongous kids tending a lethal fire or wielding a gigantic hammer to smash something flat. The head councilor was a burly boy with black skin, soot on his face, well-worn clothes of tough make, and the fuzzy black hair most black people had. Over his eyes he wore a pair of goggles.

He was also tinkering with Percy's hand-crafted Hidden Blades.

"Excuse me, are you the head councilor of the Hephaestus cabin?"

The boy looked up, and he smiled, setting down the mechanisms and lifting his goggles up. "Yes, sir, I am. Charles Beckendorf, pleased to meet you." He held out his hand, and Percy took it. "Mm. Firm handshake."

"Thank you."

Charles held up the Hidden Blades. "Chiron told me he found these on you. Did you make them?"

"Yes, I did."

The teen whistled. "This is some really good work. Percy, right? How'd you make these?"

"One day I just got it in my head that it would be cool to just flick my wrist and automatically have a pencil to write with. It's also a cool way to freak people out. I made them by drawing out some designs in a notebook, and then snuck into my school's welding and woodshop rooms. Assembly was easy."

"Not bad, kid," Beckendorf praised, clearly impressed. "I doubt you're here to just ask for these back."

"No, sir. Actually, I came here in the hopes that you could make something for me, or you could help me make something."

"Sure. What'd you have in mind?"

"A crossbow."

Beckendorf blinked very slowly, much like that of an owl. "Huh," he finally said.

Percy cocked his head. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just—you ever watch Van Helsing? The one with Hugh Jackman and Kate Beckinsale?"

"Yes. I thought it was a good movie."

"Yeah, so did I. I was watching it the other day, and I said to myself, 'I'm gonna make that crossbow.' No idea why, I don't use it, and it's been collecting dust for a few days now, but…you want it, you can have it."

"Yes, please."

"I'll be right back."

Charles disappeared into the back of the forge, and Percy patiently waited for him to return. After almost two minutes, the teen came back, a large weapon in his hand. Percy's face almost lit up like that of an excited child's, but he kept himself in check.

"Here you go, one re-forged Van Helsing automatic crossbow, made better by yours truly."

Percy hefted the weapon, noting its weight. Clicking a button on the side caused the crossbow's arms and site to pop into position. Now fully uncompact, Percy examined the weapon. From what he had seen in the movie, this beautiful creation was an exact replica, all the way down to the color. The only difference was that instead of a ram's head at the mouth of the crossbow, there was an eagle.

"Can I go test this?"

"Sure."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chiron blinked when Beckendorf and Percy entered the archery range during his master's class...with Percy carrying some kind of crossbow.

"Just squeeze the trigger and hold on tight," the son of Hephaestus said.

Percy nodded, and hefted the weapon on his shoulder, taking aim at a target about fifty yards away. The rest of the class stopped in their practice of bow-shooting in favor of watching what was about to happen. They saw the boy's hand get tighter, then-

SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING!

Little blurs went screaming out of the bow's mouth, zooming all the way to the target with ease, each bolt burying itself up to the fletching in the straw.

Percy stopped firing, a grin on his face. "I like this. Can I keep this?"

"I'm not ever going to use it."

"Sweet."

The Assassin couldn't help but marvel at this creation. Centuries ago, he had made the first crossbow. He had drawn the designs, carved the wood, weaved the string, built the mechanisms, and hand-made the little arrows that the crossbow needed to function correctly. Now, over 800 years later, his little weapon had evolved into this. A full-auto crossbow that fired five bolts a second, and with a 60-bolt drum, that was twelve seconds of nonstop fire.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy and Beckendorf returned to the forge, where the teen offered to make more bolts, free of charge. When the Assassin asked why, the son of Hephaestus just shrugged and said that he needed something to keep him busy. Percy then asked if he could come back here himself and forge a proper pair of Hidden Blades using celestial bronze, the monster-killing metal. Beckendorf wholly agreed, excited to find someone that had an interest in metal-working that wasn't a child of Hephaestus.

Of course, Percy neglected to say that he would also be looking for some mortal steel on the side...for reasons.

Charles also showed Percy this nifty little feature on the crossbow that made it shrink down into this little ring. So now Percy had a celestial bronze band on his right middle finger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rest of the day saw Percy reading his Bible underneath a tree, until a wood nymph melted out of the bark and informed him that dinner would be soon. Percy's singing gut was enough to convince him to go. Then the nymph told him that he had to be with his cabin, which made the boy frown, because being with his cabin meant being with Luke the Enemy.

Still, Percy returned to cabin 11, saw that his Minotaur horns were still safe and sound, praise the Lord, and that he was just in time for the conch shell horn to blow, signaling it was time for food. Luke called for a line-up, in which Percy was at the back due to the line being ordered based on seniority. The children of Hermes and assorted others marched single file all the way to the dining pavilion.

Upon arrival, Percy noted that they were the last ones, and the tables corresponded with the cabins, which meant that the Hermes cabin was crammed together like sardines, with half of Percy's butt hanging off the end of the bench, much to his annoyance. Food was delivered via satyrs and nymphs, along with magic goblets, and when all was doled out, Chiron stood to give a short speech, one that ended with a toast 'to the gods.'

While Percy would respect these pagans as fellow children of Christ, he would not be bowing, worshipping, or toasting in their honor, for the simple reason that it was against his religion. Nothing more, nothing less. So, when it came time, for cabin 11 to throw some of their food into the fire to honor their parents, Percy did that. Only, instead of praying for the pagans, he made this burnt offering in the name of the Lord.

After dinner, all the cabins made their way to the amphitheater, where a camp-wide singalong took place, one which Percy only marginally participated in. He did find it strange that the fire in the middle was fueled by emotions. After that, everyone retreated to their cabins for the night.

Percy leaned against the wall of the cabin, still up while everyone else was sleeping. In one hand was his Bible, and in the other was the shoebox containing the Minotaur horns. Percy could care less for his 'trophies.' They were nothing but a reminder that his mother was either dead or dying.

No, what Percy thought of was what the robed man had said to him when Faris had died, how God still had work for him to do. What this work was, was still shrouded in mystery, but the curtain was being pulled back bit by bit. This work involved the pagan gods of the Grecian pantheon, and it revolved around the summer solstice and Luke Castellan.

Lost in his thoughts, Percy found himself flicking his wrist, a habit he had picked up in earlier days when his Hidden Blades were still attached to his arms. Realizing what he was doing, Percy smirked to himself. What an Assassin he was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alright, this was longer than I expected, therefore this is part one of two. The next part will be the rest of the days of the week, followed by the CTF moment, which will then lead to Percy touching the Sword, and then the Second Life arc will kick off.

So, Zeus is a bitch, Michael was not having it, Chiron was not allowed to teach the Creed, and now the centaur knows that Percy and Faris are one and the same. Percy has a nice vocabulary, and handled Clarisse in a way that I found humorous. Also, Percy has a crossbow.

Consider the first addition to his personal arsenal.

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