The next day, I check out of the hotel. It somehow manages to be hot at this time in Charlotte, in the middle of February. I had already called a taxi to make my way to the airport. I put my luggage in the trunk and sat down in the back. Typical day. Hopefully, nothing worse will come.
Once I arrive at the airport, I pay and tip the driver, check in, then make my way to Gate 11B. The flight to Newark was in several hours. I fell back into my old routine of study and entertainment.
"Attention all passengers, the flight to Newark is canceled due to inclement weather," the intercom blares. It drones on for some time, but I already got the point.
It is mere minutes before the flight. I am beyond a bit ticked off at this point. Making my way to the desk yet again, I wait for some monster to attack me for the first time today. Nothing happens for a while, and I got really bored. I decide to snoop around the airport rather than go to check-in counter.
In an odd turn of events, I get horribly lost and end up walking right onto the tarmac. Thank the gods I had a pair of noise-canceling headphones, for I would have lost my hearing. I walk about three steps when one airport tarmac worker spots me.
"What are you doing here, lad?" he asks. "This is no place for you to be."
"I'm sorry, I don't know how I ended up here," I answer. "I was simply looking for the bathroom."
"Well, Arthur, you can't possibly have ended up here by going to the restroom."
That was the giveaway. How in the world did he know my name?
Quickly, I summon weapons from my gloves. This time, I opt for bow and arrows to put some distance between me and him while avoiding any huge noises. The man proceeds to prowl on all fours. His body suddenly grows golden fur. What was his long mullet grew wilder and puffier. A tail sprouts out his rear end, barbed and shelled. A lone stinger protrudes at the end of the tail. On second thought, that hair is a mane. A lion's mane. I peer into the humanoid face of a manticore.
"Hey, I need backup!" he calls out.
Suddenly, another lion creature drops down. This time, no scorpion tail, but a woman's face looks upon me. It's a sphinx.
"Great, now I'm really in trouble," I mutter to myself.
I shoot the arrow at the manticore, who lazily swats it away. I nock arrow after arrow, sending as many volleys as I can. They all get knocked away. I start shooting two, four, oh my gods, sixteen arrows at a time. This was really getting desperate. How I manage to not get even one to hit, I don't know, but things are not good. I run behind the landing gear of a Boeing 737, desperately trying to fend them off. I had to avoid that stinger at all costs. I run past jets, luggage, carts, literally everything, all the while shooting so many arrows I skin my fingers. It was as though these lions are immune to arrows. Eventually, I run out of strength and hide behind a cart of luggage. I conjure up a pair of Berettas. I cock then and ready myself to shoot.
I was this close to pulling those damned triggers. Then, in a bright flash of light, an arrow lodges itself into the sphinx, who vanishes like all other Greek monsters. Then, another hits the manticore, who similarly succumbs. Putting away the guns, I look up. Or I did for a moment, for my eyes were blinded by the brightest light. It was as though the Sun itself was on a collision course with Earth. The already miserable North Carolina heat became sweltering.
When the heat finally faded, a cherry red Aston Martin is parked on the tarmac in front of me. The door snaps open. I am face to face with a tall blond guy. His golden robes shine brightly, complementing his piercing blue eyes. A bow and arrows and a large quiver were strapped to his back. He gazes upon me and smiles.
"Need a ride?" he asks me. "You can come out now. I saved you from those cats."
It took me a hot second to realize who was speaking to me.
"Lord Apollo?" I gasp out incredulously. I bow before his godly figure.
"Yes, that'll be me," he says. "It's about time I save a demigod from such a trap. Being a mortal was the worst thing to happen to me in centuries. I promised my brother to remember. When I saw you out there on the tarmac, bested despite your excellent archery skills, I knew it was time to help."
Being complimented by the literal God of Archery despite failing miserably was honest perplexing. But since he is also the God of Truth and Prophecies, I guess I can't question his words.
"I need a ride to Camp Half-Blood," I state simply. "It is a great honor to ride with the God of the Sun himself."
"The honor is mine, Arthur," he replies. "I owe it to my brother Jason after what he did for me. His sacrifice is among the many reasons I am once again a god. I don't know exactly who you are, though. From your scent alone, you are a demigod. It's as strong as any Big Three, but I don't know how. I can sense this much though: you are a descendant of me. Oddly enough, as I speak to you, I get a slight headache. Why that is, I cannot say for sure."
Again, I probably shouldn't question a god, but I had so many questions.
"I know for a fact I am not a demigod," I begin. "I know both of my parents, and I know at least one is a legacy of some god. You have made it clearer, but that still doesn't explain everything.
"I was also attacked by Egyptian monsters. I am descended from an Egyptian Pharaoh. I am even able to fight Egyptian monsters with Greek weapons. What does any of this mean? What kind of sick cosmic joke is this? I spent almost twelve years of my life being a normal kid, and now that I'm nearly thirteen, I learn that the myths I read about are real and that I'm the descendant of the Sun God, or even gods. Who the hell am I?"
"That is not my question to answer, young hero," Apollo begins. "Whoever you may be, I know at least that you are very powerful, and old Father Zeus will not be happy with whoever you are. You alone can control the powers of two distinct pantheons, and from what I can see, you have no training. You are as flexible as a son of Hermes, but clearly you are blessed with my domain of archery. No one will believe who you may be. Although, I do have a prophecy of your existence, and I cannot say at this moment. For now, I'll take you to Camp."
We both board the Aston Martin, which I have to say, is really cool. Of course, it's actually the Sun Chariot, and Apollo is driving it at full throttle. In mere seconds, we were parked outside of Camp Half-Blood.