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 Get the Dragon to Listen to Me
The woods weren't like anyplace I'd been before. I had been raised in a north Houston apartment complex. The wildest things I'd ever seen were that rattlesnake in the cow pasture and my Aunt Rosa in her nightgown, until I was sent to Wilderness School.
Even there, the school had been in the desert. No trees with gnarled roots to trip over. No streams to fall into. No branches casting dark, creepy shadows and owls looking down at me with their big reflective eyes. This was like the Twilight Zone for me.
I stumbled along until I was sure no one back at the cabins could possibly see me. Then I summoned fire. Flames danced along my fingertips, casting enough light to see. I hadn't tried to keep a sustained burn going since I was five, at that picnic table. Since my mom's death, I'd been too afraid to try anything. Even this tiny fire made me feel guilty.
I kept walking, looking for dragon-type clues⎯giant footprints, trampled trees, swaths of burning forest. Something that big couldn't exactly sneak around, right? But I saw nada. Once I glimpse a large, furry shape like a wolf or a bear, but it stayed away from my fire, which was fine by me.
Then, at the bottom of the clearing, I saw the first trap⎯a hundred-foot-wide crater ringed with boulders.
I had to admit it was ingenious. In the center of the depression, a metal vat the size of a hot tub had been filled with bubbly dark liquid⎯Tabasco sauce and motor oil. On a pedestal suspended over the vat, an electric fan rotated in a circle, spreading the fumes across the forest. Could metal dragons smell?
The vat seemed to be unguarded. But i looked closely, and in the dim light of the stars and my handheld fire, I could see the glint of metal beneath the dirt and leaves⎯a bronze net lining the entire crater. Or maybe see wasn't the right word⎯I could sense it there, as if the mechanism was emitting heat, revealing itself to him. Six large strips of bronze stretched out from the vat like the spokes of a wheel. They would be pressure sensitive, I guessed. As soon as the dragon stepped on one, the net would spring closed, and voilà⎯one gift wrapped mechanical monster.
I edged closer. I put my foot on the nearest trigger strip. As I expected, nothing happened. They had to have set the net for something really heavy. Otherwise they could catch an animal, human, smaller monster, whatever. I doubted there was anything else as heavy as a metal dragon in these woods. At least, I hoped there wasn't.
I picked my way down the crater and approached the vat. The fumes were almost overpowering, and my eyes started watering. I remembered a time Tía Callida (Hera, whatever) had made me chop jalapeños in the kitchen and I'd gotten the juice in my eyes. Serious pain. But of course she'd been like, "Endure it, little hero. The Aztecs of your mother's homeland used to punish bad children by holding them over a fire filled with chili peppers. They raised many heroes that way.
A total psycho, that lady. I was so glad I was so glad I was on a quest to rescue her.
Tía Callida would've loved this vat, because it was way worse than jalapeño juice. I looked for a trigger⎯something that would disable the net. I didn't see anything.
I had a moment of panic. Nyssa had said there were several traps like this in the woods, and they were planning more. More. What if th e dragon had already stepped into one? How could I possibly find them all?
I continued to search, but I didn't see any release mechanism. No large button labeled off. It occurred to me that there might not be one to make sure the dragon cannot escape. Possibly while it wait until Cabin Nine finds it after caught although who would release a malfunction mechanical dragon I don't know. I started to despair⎯and then I heard the sound.
It was more of a tremor⎯the deep sort of rumbling you hear in y our gut rather than your ears. It gave me the jitters, but I didn't look around for the source. I just kept examining the trap, thinking, Must be a long way off. It's pounding it's way through the woods. I gotta hurry.
Then I heard a grinding snort, like steam forced out of a metal barrel.
My neck tingle. I turned slowly. At the edge of the pit, fifty feet away, two glowing red eyes were staring at me. The creature gleamed in the moonlight, and I couldn't believe something that huge had sneaked up on me so fast. Too late, I realized its gaze was fixed on the fire in my hand, and I extinguished the flames.
I could see the dragon just fine. It was about sixty feet long, snout to tail, its body made of interlocking bronze and gold plates. Its claws were the size of butcher knives, and its mouth was lined with hundreds of dagger-sharp metal teeth. Steam came out of its nostrils. It snarled like a chainsaw cutting through a tree. It could've bitten me in half, easy, or stompled me flat. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, except for one problem that completely ruined my plans.
"You don't have wings," I said.
The dragon's snarl died. It tilted its head as if to say, Why aren't you running away in terror?
"Hey, no offense," I said. "You're amazing. Good god, who made you? Are you hydraulic or nuclear-powered or what? But if it was me, I would've put wings on you. What kind of dragon doesn't have wings? I guessed maybe you're too heavy to fly? I should've thought of that."
The dragon snorted, more confused now. I guess this conversation thing wasn't part of the plan.
The dragon opened its mouth and blew fire. A column of white hot flames billowed over me, more than I'd ever tried to endure before. I felt as if I were being hosed down with a powerful, very hot fire hose. It stung a little, but I stood my ground. When the flames died, I was perfectly fine. Even my clothes were okay, which I didn't understand, but for which I was grateful. I liked my army jacket, and having my pants seared off would've been embarrassing.
The dragon stared at me. Its face didn't actually change, being made of metal and all, but I got the feeling it's expression was one of: Why no crispy critter? A spark flew out of its neck like it was about to short circuit.
"You can't burn me," I said, trying to sound stern and calm. I'd never had a dog before, but I talked to the dragon the way he thought you'd talk to the dragon the way he thought you'd talk to a dog.
The dragon took a step forward, and I shouted, "No!"
The dragon snarled.
"It's a trap, bronze brain," I told it. "They're trying to catch you. Don't come closer. I can fix you but I don't want you to get caught. Just let me⎯"
The dragon creaked, roared, and charged. The trap sprang. The floor of the crater erupted with a sound like a thousand trash can lids banging together. Dirt and leaves flew, metal net flashing. I was knocked off my feet, turned upside down, and doused in Tabasco sauce and oil. I found myself sandwich between the vat and the dragon as it thrashed, trying to free itself from the net that had wrapped around both of us.
Great. This night is not going as well as I hoped.
The dragon blew flames in every direction, lighting up the sky and setting trees on fire. Oil and sauce burned all over us. It didn't hurt me, but it left a nasty taste in my mouth.
"Will you stop that!" I yelled. "Geez, how the heck did Beckendorf-guy get you to listen?"
The dragon didn't answer and just kept squirming. I realized I would get crushed if I didn't move. It wasn't easy, but I managed to wriggle out from between the dragon and the vat. I squirmed my way through the net. Fortunately the holes were plenty big enough for a skinny kid.
I ran to the dragon's head. It tried to snap at me, but its mouth were tangled in the mesh. It blew fire again, but it seemed to be running out of energy. This time the flames were only orange. They sputtered before they could reach my face.
"Listen, man," I said. "You're just going to slow them down where you are, and they will be coming with Cyclopes, so even if you can regain your fire power, it won't affect them and they will shut you down to see and they can fix you. But I got a better compromise. If I free you, you let me fix you. Deal?"
The dragon's jaw made a creaking sound like it was trying to talk.
"Okay, then," I said hoping that was a yes. "We got a deal."
And I set to work.
It took me thirty minutes to find the release clamps for the net and untangle the dragon, but finally it stood and shook the last bit of netting off its back. It roared in triumph and shot fire at the sky.
"You're free, now. We have a deal, so show me your control pannel so I can see what's wrong," I said.
The dragon lowered his head so I can climb onto it's neck Sure enough I found the panel right behind the dragon's head.
"Hold still," I told it. The dragon made another creaking sound that might've been a whimper.
I examine the wires inside the dragon's head. I was distracted by a sound in the woods, but when I looked up it was just a tree spirit⎯ I think they were called a dryad⎯putting out flames in her branches. Fortunately, the dragon hadn't started an all-all out forest fire, but still the dryad wasn't too pleased. The girl's dress was smoking. She smoldered the flames with a silky blanket, and when she saw me looking at her, she made a gesture that was probably very rude in Dryad. Then she disappeared in a green poof of mist.
I returned my attention to the wiring. It was ingenious, definitely, and it made sense to me. This was the motor control relay. This processed sensory input the eyes. This disk...
"Ha," I said. "Well, no wonder."
Creak? The dragon asked with its jaw.
You've got bad control disk. Probably regulates your higher reasoning circuits, right? Rusty brain, man. No wonder you're a little... confused." I almost said crazy but I caught myself. "I see the evidence of that flash freeze the others were talking about too. It might just be easier to replace it, but I don't have a replacement disk, but... this is a complicated piece of circuity. Whoever this Beckendorf guy must have been a genius in mechanics and machinery if he was able to fix you up once before. If I had more time and a replacement disc, I might be able to get you back in full working condition too, but for now I'm just going to have to take out your disc and clean it. Only be a minute."
I pulled out the disk and the dragon went absolutely still The glow died in its eyes. I started polishing the disk. I mopped up some oil and Tobasco sauce with my sleeve, which helped cut through the grime, but the more I cleaned the more concern I got. Some of the circuits were beyond repair from that flash freeze. I could make it better but not perfect. For that I need a completely new disk, and I had no idea how to build one.
I tried to work quickly. I wasn't sure how long the dragon's control disk could be off without damaging it⎯maybe forever⎯but I didn't want to take chances. Once I'd done the best I could, I started cleaning the wiring and the gearboxes, getting myself filthy in the process.
"Clean hands, dirty equipment," I muttered, something my mother used to say. By time I was through, my hands were black with grease and my clothes looked like I'd just lost a mud-wrestling contest, but the mechanism looked a lot better. I slipped in the disk, connected the last wire and sparks flew. The dragon shuddered. Its eyes glowed.
"Better?" I asked.
The dragon let out a roar and triumphantly shot fire at the sky, causing me to fall off his head and land on the ground.
"I'll take that as a yes," I said. "You need a name. I'm calling you Festus."
The dragon whirred its teeth and grinned. At least I hoped it was grin.
"Cool," I said. "But we still have a problem. You don't have wings."
Festus tilted his head and snorted steam, Then he lowered his back in an unmistakable gesture. He wanted me to climb on.
"Where are we going?" I asked as I climbed onto the dragon's back. Instead of answering, Festus bounded off into the woods.
...
I lost track of the time and all sense of direction. It seemed impossible the woods could be so deep and wild, but the dragon traveled until the trees were like skyscrapers and the canopy of leaves completely blotted out the stars. Even the fire in my hand couldn't have lit the way, but Festus' glowing red eyes acted like headlights.
Finally we crossed a stream and came to a dead end, a limestone cliff a hundred feet tall⎯a solid sheer mass the dragon couldn't possibly climb.
Festus stopped at the base and lifted one leg like a dog pointing.
"What is it?" I slid to the ground. I walked up to the cliff⎯nothing but solid rock. The dragon kept pointing.
"It's not going to move out of your way," I told him.
The loose wire in the dragon's neck sparked but otherwise he stayed still. I put my hand on the cliff. Suddenly my fingers smoldered. Lines of fire spread from my fingertips like igniting gunpowder, sizzling across the cliff face until they had outlined a glowing red door five times as tall as me. I backed up and the door swung open, disturbingly silent for such a big slab of rock.
"Perfectly balance. That's some first rate engineering," I said. "I wonder its touch activated or something."
The dragon unfroze and marched inside, as if he were coming home.
I stepped through, and the door began to close. I had a moment of panic, remembering that night in the machine shop long ago, when I'd been locked in. What if I got stuck in here? But then lights flickered on⎯a combination of electric fluorescents and wall mounted torches. When I saw the cavern, I forgot about leaving/
"Festus," I muttered. "What is this place?"
The dragon stomped to the center of the room, leaving tracks in the thick dust, and curled up on a large circular platform.
The cave was the size of an airplane hanger, with endless worktables and storage cages, rows of garage-size doors along either wall and staircases that led up to a network of catwalks high above. Equipment was everywhere⎯hydraulic lifts, welding torches, hazard suits, air-spades, fork lifts, plus something that looked suspiciously like a nuclear reaction chamber. Bulletin boards were covered with tattered, faded blueprints. And weapons, armor, shields⎯war supplies all over the place, a lot of them only partially finished.
Hanging from chains far above the dragon's platform was an old tattered banner almost too faded to read. The letters were Greek, but I somehow knew what they said: bunker 9.
Did that mean nine as in Hephaestus cabin, or nine as in there were eight others? I looked at Festus still curled up on the flatform, and it occurred to me that the dragon looked so content because it was home. It had probably been built on that pad.
I found a note taped to a bulletin and took it to read:
Too whoever found this place,
Congratulations. I guess you manage to get the dragon back in working order⎯or at least good enough for it to remember this place. I can't talk long as I got to go back to Manhattan soon, but listen. If you're reading this, I'm either dead or never got the chance to tell Chiron before going off to college. I got the feeling it doesn't matter as something tells me this place was locked up for a reason. Some of these maps and blueprints date back to the American Civil War. If you find this place, find out what you can and why it was locked up incase I don't come back to this place.
Beckendorf
So Beckendorf⎯the last camp counselor⎯was here before me too. But something happened to keep him from finding out its secrets and I guess he forgot about it. But why was this place locked up since the Civil War?
I looked at a map on the wall⎯a battle map of camp, but the paper was cracked and yellow as onionskin. A date at the bottom read, 1864.
Then I spotted a blueprint on a nearby bulletin board, and my heart almost leaped out of my throat. I ran to the worktable and stared at a white line drawing almost faded beyond recognition: a Greek ship from several different angles. Faintly scrawled words underneath it read: PROPHECY? UNCLEAR. FLIGHT?
It was a ship I'd seen in my dreams⎯the flying ship. Someone had tried to build it here, or at least sketched out the idea. Then it was left, forgotten... a prophecy yet to come. And weirdest of all, the ship's figurehead was exactly like the one I had drawn when I was five⎯the head of a dragon.
"Looks like you, Festus," I murmured. "That's creepy."
The figurehead gave me an uneasy feeling, but my mind spun with too many other questions to think about it for long. I touched the blueprint, hoping I could take it down to study, but the paper crackled at my touch, so I left it alone. I looked around for other clues. No boats. No pieces that looked like part of this project, but there were so many doors and storerooms to explore.
Festus snorted like he was trying to get my attention, reminding me we didn't have all night. It was true. I figure it would be morning in a few hours, and I'd gotten completely sidetracked. I saved the dragon, but it wasn't going to help me on the quest. I need something that would fly.
Festus nudged something toward me⎯a leather tool belt that had been left next to his construction pad. Then the dragon switched on his glowing red eye beams and turned them to the ceiling. I looked up to where the spotlights were pointing, and yelped when I recognized the shapes hanging above them in the darkness.
"Festus," I said in a small voice. "We've got work to do.
A/N: I come to realize bunker nine was discovered by demigods even after the American Civil War, because there was this story in a book called 'Camp Half-Blood Cinfidentials' where a bunch of campers talk about a diary found involving a daughter of Hephaestus and James Dean who was made son of Aphrodite, they got along but James Dean fell for a daughter of Ares, broke the daughter of Hephaestus' heart and she paid back by building a the Little Bastard (not cursing, that's the name of James Dean Cursed car) yatta yatta yatta, basically it is believed Little Bastard is hidden somewhere in the yet to be explored part of Bunker 9 which is why it never been seen since it's last cassualty. My point is James Dean was born after the American Civil War, so that daughter of Hephaestus had to have discovered Bunker 9 after it. And since I had Beckendorf fix Festus for the battle of Manhattan, I have Festus show Beckendorf the place.
Anyways, I succeeded in what I continued working on Animorph Percy Jackson to do, which was get the series to the Heroes of Olympus part of the Percy Jackson series I'm stopping here for a while to work on other fanfictions and get back to this story another time. I hope you guys enjoy
