A/N: I don't own the rights to any of the Percy Jackson series or it's characters. That right gaoes to Rick Riordan. I also don't own the rights to Animorph including it's title.

I am, however, the person who posted 'The Tales of...' series.

This is not a crossover of the Percy Jackson series with the book/tv series Animorph, despite what you might think from the title. I just thought it be a proper name for the ability to turn into animals since that's why the tv/book series 'Animorph' was called that in the first place.

Also, ever since I got my latest Laptop I been stuck using Google Docs and Copy and paste my chapters and for some reason when I save what I paste any formats I made is turn to normal format. I even have to bold the chapter titles, but as I'm sure you noticed sometimes I forget to do that. So anything I normally itallilize like thoughts come out normal text. A/N at the beginning and end of each keep the format changes because I add them without copying and pasting from google doc.

If you haven't read this yet, read:

Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief
Animorph
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Titan's Curse

Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Stolen Chariot
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sword of Hades
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Bronze Dragon
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Last Olympian
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Staff of Hermes
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Singer of Apollo


Leo: I Inherit Beckendorf's Bunk

My tour was going great until I learned about the dragon.

The one-eye dude Jeffrey, who tells me was a Cyclops son of Poseidon and temporary counselor of Cabin Three-third in command to be exact. He told me the missing Camper is normally counselor, followed by Tyson-another cyclopes-when he's in camp, but Tyson trusted leading cabin three to him while Tyson searches for their missing brother.

I could tell right away Jeffrey was from the streets. I seen enough homeless and even talk to a few between families to see the tall tale signs. Crooked yellow teeth as though never been brushed, messy hair that looked like it rarely gets washed, smelly armpit as though deodorant might have not existed. If Jeffrey wasn't homeless before coming to camp, then he just had bad hygiene.

Not only that but despite looking to be a teenager, maybe younger than me, Jeffrey talks as though he was still a little but he wasn't stupid either.

Anyways, Jeffrey showed me amazing stuff that should be illegal. Real Greek warships moored at the beach that sometimes had practice fights with flaming arrows and explosives? Sweet! Arts & crafts sessions where you could make sculptures with chain saws and blowtorches? I was like, Sign me up! The woods were stocked with dangerous monsters, and no one should ever go in there alone? Nice! And the camp was overflowing with fine-looking girls. I didn't quite understand the whole related-to-the-gods business, but I hoped that didn't mean I was cousins with all these ladies. That would suck. At the very least, I wanted to check out those underwater girls in the lake again. They were definitely worth drowning for.

Jeffrey showed me the cabins, the dining pavilion, and the sword arena.

"Do I get a sword?" I asked.

Jeffrey looked at me like he was with a grin. "You'll probably make your own sword since Hephaestus is your daddy."

"Festus?" I had heard somebody say that before, but I was still dismayed. "Sounds like the god of cowboys."

"He-phaestus," Jeffrey corrected. "God of blacksmiths and fire and friend to Cyclopes since we often work with him."

I had heard that too, but I was trying not to think about it. The god of fire... seriously? Considering what had happened to my mom, that seemed like a sick joke.

"So the flaming hammer over my head," I said. "Good thing, or bad thing?"

"You were claimed almost immediately. That's good," Jeffrey said. "Sometimes gods wait until campfire to claim their kids."

"Okay... so since my dad works with Cyclopes, is that why you're giving me a tour instead of the counselor of this Cabin Nine?" I asked.

"Partly. You'll see," Jeffrey said as he moved forward.

"This just gets better and better," I said to myself.

...

I was halfway across the green when spotted my old babysitter. And she was not the kind of person I expected to see at a demigod camp.

I froze in my tracks.

"What's wrong?" Jeffrey asked.

Tía Callid-Auntie Callida. That's what she called herself, but I hadn't seen her since I was five years old. She was just standing there, in the shadow of a big white cabin at the end of the green, watching me. She wore her black linen widow's dress, with a black shawl pulled over her hair. Her face hadn't changed-leathery skin, piercing dark eyes. Her withered hands were like claws. She looked ancient, but no different than I remembered.

"That old lady..." I said. "What's she doing here?"

Jeffrey tried to follow my gaze. "What old lady?"

"Dude, the old lady. The one in black. How many old ladies do you see over there?"

Jeffrey frowned and started sniffing as if seeing he could smell something. "I don't smell anything."

I had no idea what he meant by that, but when I looked back toward the big white cabin, Tía Callida was gone. I was sure she'd been there, almost as if thinking about my mom had summoned Callida back from the past.

And that wasn't good, because Tía Callida had tried to kill me.

"Just messing with you, man." I pulled some gears and levers from my pockets and started fiddling with them to calm my nerves. I couldn't have everybody at camp thinking I was crazy. At least, not crazier than I really was.

"Let's go see Cabin Nine," I said. "I want to meet my new home dawgs."

...

From the outside, the Hephaestus cabin looked like an oversized RV with shiny metal walls and metal walls and metal slatted windows. The entrance was like a bank vault door, circular and several feet thick. It opened with a lot of brass gears turning and hydraulic pistons blowing smoke.

I whistled. "They got a steampunk theme going on, huh?"

Inside, the cabin seemed deserted. Steel bunks were folded against the walls like high-tech Murphy beds. Each had a digital control panel, blinking LED lights, glowing gems, and interlocking gears. I figured each camper had his own bed and there was probably an alcove behind it with storage, maybe some traps to keep out unwanted visitors. At least, that's the way I would've designed it. A fire pole came down from the second floor, even though the cabin didn't appear to have a second floor from the outside. The circular staircase led down into some kind of basement. The walls were lined with assortment of knives swords and other implements of destruction. A large workbench overflowed with scrap metal-screws, bolts, washers, nails, rivets, and a million of other machine parts. I had a strong urge to shovel them all into my coat pockets. I loved that kind of stuff. But I'd need a hundred more coats to fit it all.

Looking around, I could almost imagine being back in my mom's machine shop. Not the weapons, maybe-but the tools, the piles of scrap, the smell of grease and metal and hot engines. She would've loved this place.

I pushed that thought away. I didn't like painful memories. Keep moving-that was my motto. Don't dwell on things. Don't stay in one place too long. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.

I pick up a long implement from the wall. "A weed whacker? What's the god of fire want with a weed whacker?"

A voice in the shadows said, "You'd be surprised."

At the back of the room, one of the bunk beds was occupied. A curtain of dark camouflage material retracted, and I could see the guy who'd been invisibile a second before. It was hard to tell much about him because he was covered in a body cast. His head was wrapped in gauze except for his face, which was puffy and bruised. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

"I'm Jake Mason," the guy said. "I'd shake your hand, but..."

"Yeah," I said. "Don't get up."

The guy cracked a smile, then winced like it hurt to move his face. I wondered what had happened to him, but I was afraid to ask.

"Welcome to Cabin Nine," Jake said. "Been almost a year since we had any new kids. I'm head counselor for now."

"For now?" I asked.

"Jake's thinking of stepping down. More of a builder than a leader," Jeffrey said. "Where's Nyssa and the others?"

"Down at the forges along with the other cyclopes," Jake said wistfully. "They're still working on the project."

"Oh, right," Jeffrey said.

Jake studied me, sizing me up. "I think I got just the bed for you, Leo if you're willing to take it. I was saving it, but something tells me it should go to you."

"Sure!" I said. "Which one is it?"

Jake called out. "Bunk 1-A, please."

The whole cabin rumbled. A circular section of the floor spiraled open like a camera's lens, and a full size bed popped up. The bronze frame had a built in game station at the footboard, a stereo system in the headboard. A glass-door refrigerator mounted into the base, and a whole bunch of control panels running down the side.

I jumped right in and lay back with arms behind my head. "I can handle this."

"That's good, because it once belonged to the last cabin counselor: Charles Beckendorf." Jake explained.

I froze hearing last cabin counselor. "What happened to him?" I asked.

"Don't worry. He didn't die or anything like that," Jake reassured me. "He left camp to start NYU. Had a full scholarship and everything. Even his girlfriend Silena Beauregard joined him. You should know, like all beds we have, it retracts into a private room below so every camper here has their own personal space. But it's a Cabin Nine secret. Only Chiron and a few other campers knows about it. As far as the rest of the camp knows, we sleep in the bunks on the walls."

"Oh heck, yes," I said barely paying attention to the whole secret thing (although I don't mind keeping it if it meant privacy). "See y'all. I'll be down in the Leo Cave. Which button do I press?"

"Later, Leo," Jeffrey said. "I still need to introduce you to the rest of your siblings."

"Aw man," Leo complained.

Jake chuckled only to wince. "Well, I should get some sleep. I hope you like it here, Leo. It's a really nice place."

He closed his eyes, and the camouflage curtain drew itself across the bed."

I'm guessing the wall bunks was also for medical assistants as well as for show since Jake wasn't going down to his own personal room.


A/N: For those who haven't read the Legacy series basically Cabin Nine isn't cursed with bad luck since Beckendorf didn't die. Hephaestus just waited for the right time to claim Leo because as said in the original series Leo was a special case due to his powers.