A Christian Among Pagans: Part Two

Yay! 200 reviews! We made it, bitches!

Okay, if I can get my ass together, this will be the final chapter before the Second Life arc begins. This chapter will entail the little tidbits from here and there in the book, the CTF game, and Percy going to touch the sword and ending up in a coma. Hopefully. Lord willing.

Oh, the whispers. For those that are confused on just what that was about, it's the same power Shay has in Rogue whenever he's near an Assassin. If you're still confused, you can go find gameplay on YouTube.

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or AC

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A routine was created for Percy. Get up, read the Bible, go to breakfast, burn some food, have Ancient Greek lessons with Annabeth, gently probe her for more information about herself, then move on to running practice with the wood nymphs, and surprise everyone with his ability to keep up, and sometimes even win. Then go to wrestling class with the children of Ares, which Percy thoroughly enjoyed because now he could test his fighting prowess against something that wasn't varying amounts of apparitional Templars. He fought very well, if his consistent victories over Clarisse were any indication. Then there was canoeing, which wasn't too exciting but he could smoke any and all challengers with minimal difficulty. An interesting fact about Percy's archery skills, though...with a bow and arrow, he had room for improvement, but with his crossbow.

His ability can best be compared to that of Chiron himself...who was taught by Apollo.

Nuff said.

Another thing, as Percy moved throughout the camp, he could feel the eyes on him, the eyes of the councilors and senior campers, all judging him, assessing him, trying to determine his parent. It was difficult, because he could run like a child of Hermes, shoot like a child of Apollo, fight like a child of Ares, had a mind like that of a child of Athena, a metal-working interest of a child of Hephaestus, and had a tongue like that of a child of Aphrodite. Oh yes, during his tenure so far, he had been accosted by various individuals of an unsavory nature, and Percy avoided physical conflict by employing a charming smile and honey-coated words.

Most people thought of it as thus: an Athena-child if they had Aphrodite Charmspeak.

Bottom line, Percy Jackson was an enigma, a jack-of-all-trades, a well-rounded machine. And on top of all this, he read the Bible; he was a Christian. No one in the camp, from the younger children to the eldest satyrs and smartest half-bloods knew what to make of this. Most suspected that Mr. D or some other god would smite the boy for being an infidel to the ways of the Greek gods, but nothing ever happened. If anything, it seemed like the wine god made it an active duty of his to stay away from Percy Jackson.

And so, to some extent, many emulated this behavior.

However, there were some, a small number to be sure, who were...curious about the Good Book, and what it meant to be a Greek Christian.

Today was Thursday, and it was the day in which Percy would be having his first sword lesson...cue derogatory snort at the term 'first.' Percy was an expert swordsman, with the skills and abilities of Faris being transferred unto him through the many nights of training in Yancy's gym. Not every night involved beating up a ghost with his fists, but also cutting them down. The main problem with today, however, was that this place was big on the Greek short swords of old, and not the long, slender, slightly curving blade of the Syrian saber that Percy and grown fond of using.

Still, Percy powered through the inconvenience. This lesson was being taught by Luke, and the son of Hermes was still glowing red, and Percy saw this as an excellent opportunity to size up the enemy, test his skills, and determine whether or not to go through the painstaking process of fabricating a fatal training accident.

Percy stood in front of the straw training dummy, which was armored, with a xiphos in hand. The short weapon felt wrong in the boy's hand, its weight awkward. He wasn't saying it was heavy, if anything it was too light. Percy attacked the dummy with relentless fervor, striking at joints and chinks in the dummy's armor, spilling straw all over the place.

Eventually, the class moved on from dummies, and into dueling partners. For whatever reason, Luke chose Percy, and the boy's hidden smirk was one of chilling excitement. As everyone else delved into a monotony of ringing metal and half-interested swings and blocks, Percy put his game face on. Luke saw this, saw those serious green eyes, saw that tight, coiled posture, and he also settled into a serious demeanor.

Luke had been watching this boy, assessing him just as everyone else had, and he was stumped. Perhaps this battle would provide more insight on the boy's father, and if not, it would definitely provide insight on whether Luke should entertain bringing the boy into the fold.

Percy engaged first, a simple swipe to decapitate. Luke blocked, and Percy retracted, already swiping again, this time at the chest. Luke blocked. This time, Percy stabbed, but Luke parried with a sweeping of his blade, and Percy used the momentum to whip his body, his leg snapping out, causing Luke to go down. However, the teen displayed just how much better a demigod was than a human, by using a single arm to handspring himself to his feet.

Percy rushed forward, stabbing and swiping at Luke with expert precision and skill, skill that was putting Luke's ability to the test in a way that he hadn't ever experienced. In fact, he was beginning to break a sweat, his breathing becoming...faster.

And it excited him.

Luke hadn't ever had a challenge like this, and it made his heart pound with exhilaration.

Percy's blade clashed with Luke's, and the older demigod, grabbed the younger's wrist, and threw him backward using a superior leverage. Luke quickly turned the tide of the battle, surging into offense. The son of Hermes probed the boy's defense, and was surprised at how firm it was. Percy's footwork, coordination, reflexes, and...was that experience? Indeed, the demigod's green eyes were hard with calculation and control.

He had done this before.

Anyway, all of the previously mentioned factors combined into a defensive machine that refused to be penetrated. Not even Luke's feints and bolder techniques were enough to catch Percy flat-footed. But, something Luke noticed, the younger demigod was not of unlimited stamina. The constant, rapid-fire barrage of attacks against Percy's guard were having their allotted affect.

Granted, the boy was sweating an equal amount to one that had simply climbed a flight of stairs.

Luke began to become frustrated. What had started as a heart-pounding battle had quickly devolved into a boring game of swing at the sword. Luke had expected Percy to counter and launch into his own offensive, and let the duel move on to its second stage, but no. The boy had kept up his defense, merely content to block, parry, and dodge. And it was a tedious endeavor, one that made Luke rage and grunt.

However, the son of Hermes was not hailed as the best swordsman in 300 years because he allowed emotion to make him sloppy.

"Enough!" barked the demigod, which brought all surrounding combat grinding to a halt. Surprisingly, all pairs had kept up their training, instead of stopping to stare at the display between Luke and Percy. "Break time!"

The Assassin smirked at his victory, and his smirk widened by a fraction at the subtle scowl on Luke's face as he made for the water cooler. However, on the inside, Percy was impressed. Perhaps it was this small body, and the lack of true sword battles outside of Yancy's gym, but Percy found himself…tired. For someone that had trained himself to run for miles upon miles, scale skyscrapers, and free-run through any terrain for hours on end without rest, tired was an astounding feat.

Beyond that, Percy couldn't recall a battle of the blade that intense since his duels with Altaїr.

Points to the half-blood enemy for extreme skill.

Percy followed the crowd of fatigued demigods, and partook in the consumption of dihydrogen monoxide. While feeling better, his fatigue departing him, it was nothing compared to the surge of strength at pouring an entire glass upon his head. You want to talk about 'letting your problems wash away,' you gotta mention children of Poseidon and their ability to turn any sources of water into boosts of power. As the cold liquid poured down his body, all detriments Percy felt instantly vanished, and he felt ready to take on this entire camp.

After the water break, Luke wanted everyone to practice a disarming maneuver, one that entailed the striking of the opponent's hilt to knock their sword out of their grasp. The problem was: that had been a favorite move of one Faris Ibn-La'Ahad 800 years ago. The son of Hermes wanted to demonstrate on Percy, to which the boy acquiesced.

After the slow-motion technique was over, Luke wanted a real-time thing between himself and Percy, one that the Assassin was happy to partake in. Now, Percy could've done this technique in his sleep with his hands tied behind his back, but he was still jacked up on water, and therefore all of his physical abilities were boosted to levels beyond any demigod here.

Luke's blade clattered to the ground on the first slash…and then the next…and then the one after that. Finally, the teen got the hint that Percy knew what he was doing, and quickly delved the exercise down into dueling pairs once more. As the crowd dispersed to find partners and space, Percy disappeared among the small throng, left the arena entirely, and made for the forge.

Capture-the-Flag was tomorrow night, and he wanted his Hidden Blades back on his forearms.

However, before he got too close to metal shop, a thought popped into Percy's head, one revolving around a possible use for the horns at his sleeping area. So, Percy made a quick detour for cabin 11, and retrieved the annoying reminder that his mother was still elsewhere. Then he made his way to the forges.

Not a thing was different than Monday, except most of the people in here were busy hammering away at various weapons and armor, most likely in preparation for tomorrow's activity. Finding Beckendorf was easy, and the burly teen greeted the Assassin with this: wide arms and a broad smile.

"Percy, my friend! How may I be of service?" Charles asked exuberantly.

Percy stared at him, rather creeped out. "You can start by not doing that ever again."

The son of Hephaestus snorted. "Oh, lighten up, kid. I'm only joking."

"I watch my mother die a few days ago. I'd say I'm pretty light regarding the circumstance."

Beckendorf coughed awkwardly. "Um, right. Soooo…I made some ammo for you!" He stood aside and proudly displayed two full drum mags of celestial bronze bolts. Percy smiled. Charles rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Although, I'm just now realizing that you have no practical way of carrying these around with you…"

"Actually, I had an idea." Percy brought the Minotaur horns out from behind his back. "Do you think it's possible to hollow these out, and enchant them or something to where they can hold things within?"

Beckendorf took the horns with intense eyes. He turned the horns over in his hands, inspecting every inch, detecting every niche and crack, and every indent and curve. "Well," he said at last, "I can't say I have the skills to make these babies able to hold multiple items much bigger than themselves, but I can hollow them out for you."

Percy was disappointed to hear that, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice. "Oh, I see."

Beckendorf easily picked up on this, and he just so happened to have the most convenient advice. "Hey, there's this one girl, a daughter of Hecate by the name of Lou Ellen Williams, who might be able to help."

Percy cocked his head. "Isn't Hecate the goddess of witchcraft?"

"Yes…why?"

"Maybe it has something to do with the book I always have with me."

"Huh—oh! Uh, um," Charles floundered for something, clearly embarrassed by his little brain fart. Of course Percy wouldn't be too fond of meeting with someone that was, in all intents and purposes, a witch. The Bible expressly said the witchcraft was a no-no, and it was expressly clear that Percy believed in the Bible, therefore he followed the ways of God.

Then again, the boy wasn't spewing scripture at every moment he could, reminding everyone that they were the children of pagans and needed to repent, or that they were all going to burn in Hell, so maybe there was hope in that Percy wasn't going to do anything to condemn Lou Ellen. Charles didn't think the boy was like that, but you could just never tell with people.

"Give her a chance?" the son of Hephaestus tried.

Percy shrugged. "I don't see why that can't happen."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Assassin found the daughter of Hecate sitting by the hearth, coincidentally sitting next to the little girl in the brown robes that Percy had seen almost every time he looked at the blazing fire.

"Pardon me, but are you Lou Ellen Williams?"

The black-haired girl turned around, revealing her green eyes, and cheeks and nose dotted with small freckles, and a face around the same age as his own. Upon seeing him, the demigoddess' eyes widened, alight with fear. She made to bolt away, but robed girl grabbed her wrist, and gently pulled Lou Ellen back to the ground with a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, child. He does not mean you harm."

The witch-girl did not seem assuaged of her trepidation, but she did not run away. Instead, she looked at Percy with wary eyes. The Assassin merely smiled down at her with his usual cool upturning of the lips. "You are afraid of me because of my faith, aren't you?"

"Christians have a track record of burning my siblings at the stake."

Percy sighed, and took a seat next to Lou Ellen. She shied away from him, drawing closer to the robed girl.

"I do not come here to threaten, merely to ask a question." The Assassin produced the Minotaur horns. "I have a man that can hollow these out, but I'm curious to know if you can enchant them to where they can hold multiple items within, items bigger than themselves."

Lou Ellen hesitantly took the horns, and examined them, much like Beckendorf had done. Finally, she looked at Percy. "Yeah, I can do it, but...wouldn't that be, like, heresy or something for you?"

Percy laughed. "If God does not want something to happen, He will not let it happen. Go on...work your magic."

Lou Ellen cracked a smile at the pun, but she did bring the horns to her mouth. Percy didn't catch what she said, but it sounded like rapid-fire Latin. After her spell was cast, the horns...didn't do anything. Lou Ellen held the horns back out, and Percy whistled in amazement at seeing that the horns were now hollowed out.

"Here," the robed girl held out a rock, one much larger than the horn's opening. Percy set a horn down, took the rock, and placed it at the mouth of the horn he was still holding. The mineral instantly shrank in his palm, and fell into the horn, looking no bigger than a pebble. Percy tipped the horn over, and the rock came falling out. After clearing the rim, the rock instantly grew back into its full size.

The robed girl smiled serenely, and Lou Ellen beamed. Percy stood, placing his Minotaur horns behind back. "Thank you."

The daughter of Hecate smiled. "No problem."

Percy turned to leave, but then he thought of something to say. "Ms. Williams?"

"Hm?"

"Your mother does not define who you are, and know this: God loves all, be they pagan, believer, heretic...or witch."

Lou Ellen's eyes widened, and the robed girl's smile seemed to widen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy returned to the forges and showed Beckendorf the horns. The teen wasn't too surprised, merely giving a broad grin. With the problem of the magazine storage place solved, then came the issue of practically keeping the horns on Percy. The Assassin was quick to remember the tri-belted harness he once wore so many years ago.

Finding leather in the forge hadn't been hard, and cutting it and fitting it into the required belt for a twelve-year-old had been even less hard. Now Percy had a couple of bull horns across his back, positioned in such a way that he could easily reach inside and pull anything in them out.

Percy had memorized his schedule for the day, and he could safely say that he did not care for anything else on his schedule, and Beckendorf, being a camp counselor, was not restricted in what he could do in a day...not that there was anything anyone could do to force anybody to actually do any activity. So, with that in mind, the two pagan children spent the rest of the day until dinner working on forging Percy's Hidden Blades.

By the time dinner arrived, the Assassin felt whole once more.

Now he just had to make one out of steel.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day saw Percy fighting against automatons offered by the generous Hephaestus cabin (Beckendorf) using only hid Hidden Blades. In the late 12th century, the Hidden Blade could only be used for Assassination or counter-killing, not for blade-on-blade combat. Back then, the construction was too fragile to handle the strike of a sword. Today, however, with Percy's improved design, Beckendorf's expertise, and the majesty that was celestial bronze, the little weapons were sturdy and durable enough to be used against enemy weapons.

And Percy used them well.

Despite Faris' indisputable skill with the sword its shorter brother, he had always truly favored his Hidden Blades. They were sleek, elegant, quiet, and simple. There was no need for feints and drastic measures using those, just good reflexes and excellent timing. However, there were times when the Hidden Blades were ill-suited for combat, and that's when Faris unsheathed one of the sturdier weapons.

Sturdier being the keyword.

Now, though, with these new Blades, Percy could attack and defend with all the prowess as if he had been using an actual sword. The boy easily alternated between striking with his arms, wearing down an automaton's defense with just a few strikes before dispatching the machine and moving on to the next, and beginning the process again, and holding his ground against a few enemy blades, testing the strength of the Hidden Blades against strong attacks.

They held up beautifully.

Amazingly, no interrupted Percy's practice time. No cabins coming for sword practice, no cabins coming for wrestling practice, no cabins coming to sit in and watch, no groups of people coming in to watch, no one. Well, almost no one. Charles had come to oversee things, film, and make notes, and Lou Ellen (surprisingly) had stood silently off to the side, watching with keen interest.

Whether that interest was in Percy, or Percy's skill was up for debate.

The Assassin cleared out the automatons, eventually, and the day had to move on. Percy and Beckendorf labored at getting the machines back to the forge for repair, and Lou Ellen disappeared to do her own thing, but not before catching Percy's eye and throwing a minute sway into her hips for all of a second. Charles chortled while the boy just raised a brow at the behavior.

They were twelve…weren't they a little young for such flirting?

And why was she flirting, anyway?

Or was Percy just imagining things?

Anyway, after getting all the scrap back to the forge, Percy gave Beckendorf a firm handshake, and made the archery range his next stop, where he emptied an entire magazine on several targets, drew another magazine from a horn on his back, and proceeded to empty that clip as well. Each bolt strayed no further than the first ring. After Percy was satisfied with his accuracy for the day, he underwent the arduous process of retrieving all his ammo, and reloading the magazines with their bolts.

Then Percy decided that it had been too long since he had last gone for a climb, and acquainted himself with the lava wall. If the thing had just been footholds and ledges, it would've been too easy, but it was called the lava wall for a reason, and that was because lava fell down the wall, and if you were not careful (or didn't have an experienced healer on standby) you might possibly die. However, even with the added threat of burning death, Percy still made it up the wall just fine.

He would definitely be back here though, what with the wall's difficulty configuration.

You might be wondering why Percy seemingly had all this free time on his hands, despite being a member of cabin 11. It's simple, Percy ditched his cabin. Really, there was no need to stick with them and follow their schedule, not when Percy had things he could be doing that were much more productive. No one said anything, because no one cared. He was an unusual demigod doing unusual things.

Finally, dinner rolled around, after a conversation with Grover that revealed the history of the pine tree (and the electric blue glow within) and Percy would be lying if he said he wasn't marginally excited about this Capture the Flag. There had been a similar game back in Masyaf, where flags bearing the Assassin's symbol would be placed about in random locations, and then all the Novices would be sent out to collect. While exciting to some degree, it became tedious when not a flag could be found. Percy hoped Capture the Flag here was vastly different.

Annabeth and her siblings came running in, displaying a gray banner with a silken barn owl above an olive tree. Then Clarisse and her cabin came running in, displaying their own red banner with a bloody spear and a boar's head. Obviously, those were the flags. Questioningly, did Athena and Ares always lead the teams? Further, who was on what team?

A dose of Eagle Vision, and Percy was swimming in reds and blues.

Oh, well, that answered the question…and Luke was still red.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble. "Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

Percy's brow twitched. How, exactly, did one maneuver with their body weight attached to their arm? He was not having it, nor was he having any of these breastplates, helmets, vambraces, and/or battle skirts. Luke only ceased in his persistent efforts of trying to get Percy to hold a shield and put on armor after the Assassin leveled a nearby sword at his throat with an icy green stare.

"Alright, but it's your funeral when your friends from cabin 5 come calling. You'll be on border patrol, by the way."

Percy was just fine with his crossbow on his finger, his magazines on his back, and his Hidden Blades tucked safely under his white hoodie, which he had found in the possession of someone who shouldn't have had it in the first place.

The Blue team departed from the dining pavilion, and Percy made it up to Annabeth, since she was obviously the leader of this congregation. "What part of the border did you want me guarding, exactly?"

The daughter of Athena looked at him, and her eyes widened. "Where's your armor?"

"In a place that doesn't exist. Now, where am I guarding?"

Those gray eyes shined with a light that displayed how utterly lost Annabeth was, but she answered anyway. "By the creek. I'll show you where."

And indeed she did, and Percy did his custom eye-brow raise. The creek, out of the way, far from combat. Seriously? However, Percy did not question this. Under the power of Eagle Vision, this place was glowing white, which meant that in all the forest, this was the spot. In the distance, the conch horn blew, and the forest became alive with whoops and hollers, and the clanging of mettle. One boy, a son of Apollo, came blitzing past Percy, through the stream, and into enemy territory.

Percy watched the teen go with Eagle Vision, and it was because of this that Percy saw the blue outline of Annabeth Chase hiding in some brush, a golden hat on her head. Invisibility? Interesting.

Grahhhhh…

Percy's crossbow was in his hand in an instant as he wildly snapped about, Eagle Vision on as he searched for the threat, for there was a threat. The growl had come from all directions, so pinpointing the origin was useless, and as he whipped around, crossbow aimed at everything, he saw no red figures in the bushes. In fact, Percy could swear he felt the dark presence of whatever creature had been there receding.

Calm reigned for all of thirty seconds before Percy heard clambering from the rear, but he was about as far from concerned over these arrivals as Pluto was from the sun.

"Cream the punk!" came the scream of Clarisse, and then the rapid splashing of feet through water.

Now, for some Percys, this would've been the opportune moment to 'test' themselves against a number of experienced opponents. But not this Percy. This incarnation of the son of Poseidon had no desire to test the measure of his combat prowess, for in his experience, he was about as experienced as one could be. And while seeing how his Hidden Blades measured up against shields and spears in a nonlethal setting, this Percy was far more occupied on the dark presence that seemed content with hiding.

So, the Assassin gestured with his arm, and the creek erupted, sending the children of Ares to the shallow bottom about eight inches below. Then with another gesture, this time a jerk of the head, the demigods were dragged onto the shore, tendrils of water still connected to them. With a final gesture, this one of the arm, and those tendrils slammed the heads of the enemy hard into the gravel, and they knew the sweet bliss of sleep.

The water retreated into the creek.

Percy did this all without turning around, and he continued to stare intently at the forest. That presence was still out there, and it was still waiting for something. Perhaps it was waiting for an audience, or for Percy to lower his guard, something that would not be happening, or maybe the presence was content to wait forever.

Sounds of screaming, elated screaming, tore through the forest, and Percy risked a quick glance backward, and saw the lights of enemies and allies rapidly getting closer. Luke came charging through the brush, flanked by sons of Apollo fighting off the sons of Hephaestus. The son of Hermes charged through the creek, and to the other side. The campers, who had all managed to gather at this one location en masse at the same time, exploded into cheers or moans at either their victory or their defeat.

"How did you…the water…no, I thought…Zeus would be your…and that would make you Thalia's…"

Percy turned around, seeing Annabeth staring at him in shock, her hat, a Yankees cap, clutched tightly in her hand. It was clear that her entire world view had just been shattered, and her brain was trying to catch back up with reality.

Something that was made easy by the lupine howl that ripped through the forest, causing swords to be drawn, spears to be pointed, arrows to be knocked, and shields raised. Chiron barked out in Ancient Greek, "Stand ready! My bow!"

The source of the howl became clear when there was a short gasp, followed by everyone turning their heads in sync to stare at the rhino-sized dog on the rocks above. Bristling black fur, claws the size of daggers, teeth like knives, and burning eyes of lava stared down at the demigods, or to be more specific, Percy Jackson.

For his part in this, the boy deadpanned. "Oh, well if that's all it is…"

In a quickdraw movement honed from years of practice during the Third Crusade, Percy had his crossbow aimed and firing in an instant.

SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING-SCHING!

All it took was a single squeeze to put down the beast. The hellhound collapsed to the creek, its body dissolving into shadow that faded away. Whether it was some divine will or the flow of the creek, Percy's bolts found themselves floating down to his foot, where bent down to pick them up, and when he stood, there was this weird green glow.

"Um, Percy," Annabeth was weakly pointing up.

Percy looked up, and saw a spinning trident the same color as the glow that tainted the place.

"It is determined," Chiron said grimly. He began to bow in a way only a horse could, and the rest of the camp followed suit. As a Christian who only bowed to a cross and those that stood behind it, this felt ten different kinds of wrong.

"Poseidon, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."

…

"Are we going to ignore the fact that a hellhound somehow made it into here, or what?" Percy deadpanned.

Chiron blinked, and then he mentally groaned at himself. Of course the boy would be more concerned with a threat to his life than with who his pagan father was. "Someone summoned it, someone inside the camp."

Using Eagle Vision, Percy saw Luke glowing bright gold. Surprise, surprise.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy, despite being a devote Christian, good with words, and able to carry a conversation with anybody, was still antisocial as crap, and covered his haste to move into cabin 3 with a quick explanation that he didn't want to overtax cabin 11 anymore than what it already was, and accompanied this with a small scowl that was obviously aimed at his 'father' and at the other Olympians for not claiming their children, therefore making it look like Percy was just as happy at his new circumstance as anyone else.

The campers bought it up like junkies and free weed.

Except for Chiron, Beckendorf, Grover, Annabeth, and Lou Ellen. They could see that he was just happy to escape the crowded confines of the Hermes cabin.

That night, as Percy lay on his cool top bunk, wide awake and wired, he could not find the lack of energy to sleep. So he did what he hadn't done in too long: exercise. The Assassin was on his face as soon as the thought occurred to him, his arms pistoning him up and down with tremendous speed. After pushup number 624, Percy's arms finally were too tired to haul him up one more time, so he switched to sit ups. After 822 of those, he switched to squats, holding his crossbow above his head for a little extra weight. It proved successful in a way, since Percy could only go up and down 741 times, instead of his usual 912 times.

After he completed his workout, two hours had passed, and the boy was still finding it necessary to burn off energy.

So, he went for a run with his crossbow. It didn't take long for Percy to enter Eagle Vision, and observe the camp in a way only he could. All the cabins glowed their respective colors, of course, but the Big House…above the roof, hundreds of little gold symbols danced erratically. The same symbols that accompanied the Sword from so many years ago.

Interest piqued, Percy turned his crossbow back into a ring, and made his way for the Big House. The door wasn't locked, so entry was easy, and stalking through the halls to the stairs was easier. Chiron was elsewhere in the building, and Dionysus was also elsewhere. Ascending the stairs, Percy found the trapdoor to the attic, and he gently pushed it open. The symbols got more intense.

Percy ignored everything in the room around him, focused solely on the glowing sword buried and hidden behind ancient memorabilia. Carefully moving aside the stuff, Percy beheld the Sword. It was just as he remembered. Straight, thin blade, golden hilt, emerald pommel, straight cross guard, ruby in the middle of the cross guard, and small runes carved into the flat.

Percy slowly reached down for the Sword, not once questioning why he was drawn to it all of a sudden. He touched the hilt, and everything went pear shaped. His body locked, his nerves screamed in pain, his face scrunched up, he wanted nothing than to desperately escape the sudden flood of light and energy beams.

Then it was all over, as Percy fell unconscious with the Sword of Eden clutched tightly in his hand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And so ends the first interlude.

Next chapter is the official start of the Second Life arc, and it will take place in Brotherhood, in Rome, during the reign of the Borgia. Percy will be an eventual friend of Ezio, but it will be a…strained relationship.

Now, some news about me.

On April 7, 2017, my step-grandfather passed. I mentioned him in chapter 13 of Green-Eyed Ghoul, if you want a little more information. The old man had the awesome combination of dementia and Alzheimer's, and the less said about the bathroom the better. He was a chipper man, happy in all things, and greeted everyone with smile. However, I've always believed that there is a difference between living and existing, and Grandpa Joe was simply existing.

I think it's an act of mercy that God finally called him home.

Moving on, I get to take the ACT test on the 8th. Which is tomorrow. Yippee. People keep telling I can get at least a 30 if I try, and I just respond with a simple 'thank you.' So, pray for my grandmother, pray for me, and pray for anything and everything, because we're about to go to war with Russia.

Fav, Follow, and Review!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Within the hideout of Isola Tiberina, Ezio Auditore met with his allies, Bartolomeo d'Alviano, La Volpe, and his own sister, Claudia. They informed Ezio about the important goings-on around the city of Roma, how Cesare was in the Castel Sant'Angelo with the Pope, that the Apple had been handed off for study, and that person's identity was being investigated, and how Caterina Sforza would be moved to the Castello within the next week.

Niccolò Machiavelli decided that it was the Castello that needed targeting, with Cesare and Rodrigo being slated to die, a sentiment that was quickly parroted by the heads of the three guilds of Roma, to which Ezio assured them that indeed, the Borgia leaders would die. Before he left, Ezio was called out to by La Volpe.

"Wait, Ezio."

"Yes?"

"I just thought of someone…someone who might be of great help to us…"

"Who?" Ezio asked, interest now piqued.

La Volpe's gaze was serious and hard. "There is a man that stalks the streets of Roma, one that has made it his personal mission to kill every Borgia-affiliated agent across the city. Everyone from grunts to Rodrigo himself is on his list."

"Volpe, you don't mean…?" Claudia trailed off.

Niccolò picked up on this mystery man was, and he threw in his own two cents. "Ezio… this man is an extremist. What his real name is, no one knows, but we do know is that he's been a presence here in Roma for about as long as the Borgia have. But, though extreme in his beliefs, to the point where I have not tried to recruit him to our cause, his skill cannot be ignored."

"Just how good is the man, then?"

"Well," Volpe started, "the Borgia used to bring in supplies via Il Tevere…"

"Six months after this man started operating…" Bartolomeo picked up.

"The Borgia stopped using Il Tevere," Machiavelli finished seriously.

Claudia's eyes widened, as did Ezio's, but her reaction was for a different reason. "You mean he's…mio Dio…he's put more money into my girls' hands than anyone, always for distracting Borgia guards."

La Volpe nodded. "He's been able to run with the best of my thieves, complete our challenges, and he even stole my sword."

Bartolomeo snorted. "He has been to my fighting ring, always wins, always collects the money. I've crossed blades with him myself…I have yet to beat him."

Now Ezio's interest was really piqued. He approached his allies, head turned to where he looked at them all from the corner of his eye, his hand held out, fingers pointed down. "Who is this man?"

Machiavelli was very serious in his answer.

"They call him… Che Si Aggira...the Prowler of Roma."