Author's Note: Everyone! Chapter seven is here! Woo! Thanks to all who have favorited, followed, and/or reviewed so far. It's really cool! Before we begin the chapter, I want to give you a word of warning. This chapter is a bit dark. There you go! Enjoy!
Chapter Seven
Mack Bolan awoke early the next morning, thankful for the full night of rest. After taking a shower, he spent some time doing a quick workout and stretching routine, then exited his bedroom. Stopping to check up on the wizards and demigods, he found everyone else was still asleep. Checking his watch, he saw it was not even six o'clock. His stomach growled loudly, and Bolan headed to the kitchen. Looking around, he found everything he needed to make a pot of coffee and some breakfast. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out several pounds of sausage and bacon, quietly placing the packages of meat on the counter. He grabbed four cartons of eggs, a pack of strawberries, and two pineapples. Searching the freezer, he found a large bucket of coffee, which he also set on the counter, grabbing the percolator from a shelf.
Quickly preparing the coffee, he placed the percolator on a hot burner, then set to work preparing the massive feast. He searched the cupboards and found several bundles of bananas, which he promptly added to his fruit salad. Continuing his search, he found all the utensils he'd need and set them up on the counter. Ignoring the boxes of pancake mix, he did one last search before the coffee pot started making noise, letting him know it was done. Removing it from the burner, he set it aside, placing a large pan over the flame. He quickly threw some bacon in, careful to spread it out nicely and leave room for him to flip it. Knowing the meat would take the longest to cook, he began washing and cutting fruit, keeping an eye on his first batch of bacon. He had just finished preparing the pack of strawberries and tossing them into a large bowl when he knew it was time to flip the meat. Grabbing his tongs, he flipped the strips of meat, then began cutting the pineapples. He smiled to himself as he saw they were perfectly ripe. He sliced the juicy fruit into small cubes, throwing them in the bowl. His first batch of bacon done, he grabbed a large plate, quickly warming it before covering it with a paper towel. Piling the bacon onto the plate, he was careful not to spill Greece as he ensured all the bacon was on the plate. Placing more into the pan, he let it cook as he found some grapes in the back of the refrigerator. He quickly washed them and threw them into the bowl before flipping the bacon. Grabbing a second pan, he placed it on another burner and let it heat up, then began making sausage patties. That complete, he threw a third batch of bacon onto the stove as he placed his sausages into the second pan.
Grabbing his bowl of fruit, he rapidly peeled and cut the bananas and tossed them in before setting the fruit salad in the refrigerator to chill, then continued making more sausage patties. With his first sausages done and the rest cooking in the pan, he began cracking eggs into four large bowls. The Executioner had pulled out four eighteen-packs of eggs, but he was glad that the bowls were large enough that he could crack them, season them, and whisk them without worrying about spilling the contents onto the counter. With all the meat finally cooked, he was able to use the two pans to cook the eggs in the fat of the meat, which he knew would taste delicious but didn't know if anyone else in the house had ever cooked with only the fat of the animal before. If not, he thought, they were in for a treat. As the first two bowls of eggs went into the pans, he heard movement from upstairs, hoping that he didn't wake anyone up. Placing the dirty bowls in the sink, he watched his eggs carefully as he began lining up plates, bowls, napkins, and forks on the counter. He had just finished plating the first batch of eggs when he saw Molly Weasley out of the corner of his eye walk into the kitchen with an astonished look on her face.
"Good morning, Molly," he said as he poured the last two bowls of eggs into the pans. "I hope you slept well. I didn't wake you, did I?" He asked as he placed the bowls in the sink.
"Oh heavens, no!" She said with a grin. "I usually wake up around six thirty to make breakfast."
"Well," Bolan said with a laugh, "sorry to rain on your parade. I was up early and got hungry and decided now's as good a time as any to practice my cooking skills."
The woman smiled as she picked up the plates Bolan had lined up and warmed them. Bolan finished cooking the eggs and plated them, then placed the massive plates piled high with food on a hotplate set on low to keep the food warm. Putting the pans in the sink, he rinsed them off, made sure the burners were turned off, then poured himself a cup of coffee. Molly Weasley grabbed two of the empty plates and piled meat and eggs onto them, then carried them to the table before pausing, glancing at the bowls.
"What are those for?" She asked.
"There's fruit salad in the fridge. It should be chilled now," the Executioner replied as he carried his coffee cup to the table. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"Oh no, dear, I'll get it!" She said with a smile, carrying the fruit bowl and setting it on the counter. "You've done quite enough! Thank you so much! May I get you some fruit salad?"
"I wouldn't mind," Bolan said, sighing as he sat down. "Thank you."
"So, you mentioned last night that you're not a wizard. How was cooking with magic? Here's your fruit, dear."
"Thank you. Well, I didn't use magic, so I don't know," Bolan explained, taking a sip of hot coffee.
"You're telling me," Sirius Black exclaimed, walking into the kitchen, "that you whipped all this up without magic?"
"Yes," the soldier replied, a small smile crossing his face.
"Wow! That's amazing," Sirius said, pouring himself some coffee. "This coffee is delicious, by the way." The man said after a few seconds, sipping from his cup.
The three of them began eating their meals and drinking coffee, glad for the chance to have a conversation outside of Order business. They took their time eating, and the soldier was glad he got along well with the wizards. Whether or not they trusted him fully, he didn't know, but they were extremely welcoming, and for that, he was thankful. One by one, the occupants of the house awoke and entered the kitchen, smiling wide when they saw the massive mountain of food that was prepared. Percy Jackson was the last one to enter the kitchen.
"Morning, everyone," he yawned.
"Glad to see you're awake," Bolan responded. "Come, have some breakfast."
Percy piled the final empty plate high with food, and the Executioner took the opportunity to fill his own plate with seconds and help himself to more fruit and coffee. The demigods looked at him knowingly, glad for the chance to enjoy a meal. They too understood the value of eating as much as they could when they had the chance, although, Percy thought, the big American who had shown up near Half-Blood Hill only days before had truly put that reality in perspective for the young heroes. Prior to his arrival, the son of Poseidon mused as he carried his plate to the table and sat down next to Sirius, the demigods had thought that no one understood. They had thought that they were alone in fighting battles wherein the safety of the world hung in the balance. They had cried, bled, and died, wishing they had someone, anyone, who understood the horrors of war. Meeting the man they knew as Matthew Cooper, Jackson knew, had impacted all nine war heroes in ways the commando could never imagine. Training him was a true honor for Percy and the others, and all of them hoped they could be of continued help to the man all of them considered a friend.
Harry Potter, for his part, couldn't quite figure out the big man and the nine American children sharing a meal with him and his friends. There was something dangerous about all of them, especially the man with blue eyes. His discussions with Cedric and the others the night before had only made him more curious, especially since the American kids seemed to know the man well. Perhaps, Harry thought, he was their headmaster, but from what he heard from them, the United States Academy of Wizards was shutting down, and, presumably, whatever staff that once served the students of the school had to be gone, moving on with their lives. So, the boy wondered, maybe not their headmaster, but one of their instructors? Ultimately, he knew, he couldn't get any answers unless he asked. Then, there was the matter of what they knew, if anything, about the brewing war that awaited the magical community. While Minister Fudge was busy running his campaign against him and Cedric, he knew Voldemort was out there, somewhere, coming up with some scheme to regain power. The American man he knew as Cooper seemed to know about Voldemort's exploits, but that didn't necessarily mean that the nine kids did. If that was true, then he had to wonder about their ability to defend themselves. Even he wasn't an experienced duelist, after all, the only reason he knew what he did was because of Professor Lupin, Professor Moody, and the countless hours he had spent with Hermione learning spells in order to survive the Triwizard Tournament, but he thought that he was able to at least defend himself if it came down to it, provided he was able to escape the dangerous situation quickly. Fighting the Dark Lord himself in the graveyard only drove home that point. Either way, he believed he could trust the Americans, but hoped that they could help him figure out the disaster that was about to hit the wizarding world with gusto.
Truthfully, the twelve-year-old Triwizard champion thought, he hated being famous. He hated the attention and was glad when the Americans showed no sign of recognition when they had talked. However, he also hated the fact that he was the only one who could defeat Voldemort. That wasn't hard for him to figure out, of course, but he wished he could have a normal year for once. He had thought every year that the time had come, and each year, he was proven wrong. His fifth year was proving no different. He was glad, however, that he had more friends to share his experiences with.
"This is delicious," Annabeth spoke up after a while, chewing thoughtfully on a mouth full of eggs. "Whoever cooked this monstrosity of a meal has a real talent in the kitchen. I don't think I've tasted such beautifully seasoned eggs ever in my life!"
"The idea to cook them in the animal fat was truly brilliant," Hermione said, speaking as if she were a renowned food critic. "The seasoning, as you said, is beautiful. The garlic salt and pepper blend perfectly with the flavor of the Greece from the meat."
"Moving onto the sausage," the daughter of Athena continued, smiling at Hermione. "Beautiful crisp on the outside; what a superb presentation! The patties are all well-sized. Cutting into them, you can see all those flavorful juices inside. Yet, they're perfectly cooked. The flavor," she finished as she took a bite, "is phenomenal! You get that slight crunch, then the juices just explode from the patty and give you a nice and rich bite."
"Right, the bacon," Hermione said with a wink. "Visually, it looks delicious. Look at that beautiful golden brown! Biting into it, you get that nice crisp and a perfect blend of fat that just magnifies the flavor."
"Finally," Annabeth said, "the fruit salad. It's perfectly mixed and packed with flavor. Amazing, since there's nothing but the fruit in there. No sugar, honey, or yogurt. The slices are perfect, and the grapes are a nice touch."
"A flawless meal," Hermione declared, biting into a sausage patty.
"I'll be sure to pass on your notes to the chef," Molly Weasley said, grinning.
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Annabeth replied. "It really was great! Can I get more?"
"Why of course, darling," the woman said. "But I didn't cook it."
"Who did?" Ron asked, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth.
"You all should thank Mr. Cooper," Molly announced.
Bolan smiled thoughtfully as he sat down with his third plate of food. Taking a sip of coffee, his smile grew wider as he thought of Aaron Kurtzman and his notoriously horrible brew. How the computer whiz could stomach the stuff, Bolan would never understand. Either way, he thought, he knew that Kurtzman wouldn't like his coffee since it would prove too weak for him.
"So," Arthur Weasley asked to no one in particular, "what's on the agenda for today?"
"Well," Bolan started, "I'm going for a run after breakfast. You're all welcome to join me. After that, I don't know."
"A run sounds nice," Sirius proclaimed. "I'll go."
The nine demigods looked at the Executioner, smiling slightly. Bolan nodded, knowing that the ADHD war heroes could use the run and a long day of combat training. That should keep him occupied, he thought, and perhaps, if he could, he'd meet with Severus Snape in order to pick his brain on the modus operandi of the Death Eaters. Maybe, he hoped, he could even learn some new spells. The Golden Trio also said they'd take part in the run, and the soldier wondered if they should be trained in combat as well. He wasn't too worried about Harry, since the boy already seemed ahead of most fifth-year students. Casting a Patronus wasn't an easy task, and most adult wizards weren't able to do it. However, Ron and Hermione's capabilities weren't known, and the Executioner hoped they didn't have to be tested in an actual combat zone.
After everyone had finished eating, they cleaned up the empty plates. The demigods, Bolan noted, had went through the food quite fast, all of them having at minimum four stuffed plates. The soldier didn't mind, in fact, he appreciated it. That not only meant that his cooking was decent, but it also meant that they truly understood that a warrior should never take an opportunity to eat for granted. While they were training him, he tried to enforce lessons of his own, and it seemed like it was working. The wizards simply gazed at the Americans with shocked looks. Even Ron, who, Bolan observed, ate like a bulldozer, looked dumbfounded as they prepared for their run.
"OK," Bolan said, "you guys ready?"
They started down the street in a fast walk, wanting to not only warm up their muscles, but refrain from drawing any attention to themselves by charging out of the hidden house in a full sprint. Once they reached the end of the block, the Executioner took off, allowing himself to run. Sirius and the demigods caught up to him quickly, with the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione not too far behind. Running, Hermione thought as her lungs burned, was something they hadn't done hardly at all, and their physical conditioning was severely lacking. The Americans, however, seemed to be doing better, following the big man, who, to Hermione, looked more like a warrior than even the nine American exchange students. Those kids, she thought, nearly stumbling over a piece of gravel, looked strong for their young and small frames. The witch couldn't quite put a finger on it, but all of them had a certain look in their eye and a certain way of moving that told her they had seen things that no one should ever see. But the big American man leading the run? Well, he was a different story. He too had the look that told her he had been through a lot, and he carried a lot more scars than the exchange students. The man moved with such grace he looked like he was always ready for a fight. His eyes, though, were what gave it away. Those penetrating blue orbs of ice could paralyze a man with fear. What was even more odd was that the exchange students seemed to know him quite well. No, she thought, that didn't quite describe it. They seemed rather fond of the man, almost like he was a good friend of theirs. But why? What was their relationship to the man? Was he one of the instructors at their school? She knew nothing about the United States Academy of Wizards. She couldn't find anything about the covert school anywhere. The Americans had explained to them that their school was shutting down for one reason or another, which only made things more curious since all the textbooks she knew of would make note of any wizarding schools that no longer existed. Hopefully soon they would all be able to sit down and talk to them and get some answers, she thought as she forced herself to resist doubling over from the stitch in her side. Despite their looks, she didn't know if they knew anything about Voldemort. If that was true, then her newfound friends would be easy targets.
Her reverie was broken as just as they had reached mile four in their run, a single jet of light came flying out of nowhere, headed straight for Percy. To Hermione's amazement, the twelve-year-old withdrew his wand from a pocket and blocked the spell, then his friends sprang into action, drawing wands and surrounding Harry, Ron, and herself in a protective formation. Her hand immediately went for her wand as spells continued flying in their direction. Sighing, she remembered two things simultaneously as a stunning spell missed her by inches. First, she remembered that it would be illegal for Herself and her two friends to use magic, which then led her to leave her wand in her room, since she wouldn't need it. Harry and Ron looked at her, and they must have thought the same thing as they too had no wands. She didn't know if the exchange students would get in trouble for using magic, but at the moment, it didn't matter, since they were forced to rely on them as hexes and curses kept flying at them, the dozens of hooded figures popping out from behind trash cans and from small alleyways further proving the point.
Mack Bolan had watched as the first jet of light flew towards the son of Poseidon. As soon as he saw the demigods surround the Golden Trio, he, along with Sirius, Fred, George, Cedric, Molly and Arthur Weasley had drawn wands, trying to locate the ambushers. Just as Death Eaters began revealing themselves, Bolan saw a flash of fire in the distance that drew his attention. Hoping it wasn't what he thought it was, he was forced to leave the battle, creeping into an alley, reaching into his belt. The soldier first returned his wand to its holster, then pulled out his weapons of war he hoped he wouldn't have to use around the wizards and demigods. Fixing a sound suppressor to his MP-5 submachine gun, he chambered a round and set the selector to three-round burst. Next, he holstered his Beretta 93-R in a shoulder holster and pulled out several spare magazines, also chambering a round and setting the selector to three-round burst before attaching a sound suppressor to the barrel. His Desert Eagle was the last gun to emerge from his belt, going into a hip holster with a round chambered. He hoped he wouldn't have to use the massive handgun since that would draw too much attention, but it was there if he needed it. Drawing his combat knife and a dagger from another pocket, he was ready for war when he saw a second flash of fire closer to his position. Moving stealthily but with urgency, the warrior stayed hidden as he saw a few Earthborne moving his way, followed by empousi. From their current distance, he couldn't judge their numbers, but he knew he couldn't let them get near the main battle, both to prevent the demigods from being forced to blow their cover so early and to ensure there were no injuries. Placing the first Earthborne in his sights, he watched as it moved. They were now close enough that he could hear voices.
"Who is the American commando?"
"I don't know. But he took out some of our forces in America."
"Why'd he want to attack America in the first place?"
"His target was Half-Blood Hill, but some big man just got in their way. The Death Eaters who could remember the battle after they woke up told us he was saved by a bunch of kids with weapons and that old man Dumbledore."
Bolan continued listening as the small army of Earthborne and empousi stopped, the two empousi he had first heard continuing their conversation.
"So?"
"So then, we send out some of the mortal commandos to kill some police officers as a distraction, but that failed too! Then, we attacked Half-Blood Hill, and guess who won? The demigods and the commando. I don't think he's a demigod, but my guess is he was trained by the heroes for war. Don't ask me how that's possible, because I don't know."
"So he needs to be stopped?"
"Now you're catching on. It just so happens that the demigods are fighting the Death Eaters now. Nothing planned, of course, but if they can be killed, all the better. That's where we come in. We're going to make someone talk and tell us where the commando is."
"What?"
"Yes. You see, the Death Eaters were ordered to ambush and kill anyone who crossed them. I think they were waiting for later in the day, since a lot of drunks wander around here. But, as you heard, we got word they were out for a run."
"Did they spot the commando?"
"I don't think so. Robison thinks he's United States Special Forces, whatever that means. Anyway, if that's true, then he most likely isn't here. That's why we'll make someone talk, after we kill the demigods, of course. Kelli should have done it the first time. We're wasting time. Let's go!"
The Executioner had heard enough. Sighting in on the nearest monster, his MP-5 spit out a three-round burst that took the Earthborne directly in its head, crumpling it to the ground before it dissolved. Several other Earthborne noticed their fallen comrade and hurled chunks of dirt in all directions, trying to draw out their attacker. Unknown to them, they actually served to help the executioner with the strategy, since all they did was blind the empousi, who started running around screaming. It was like shooting fish in a barrel as the Earthborne never scattered. He switched the selector to full-auto and put a single controlled burst into the monsters, dissolving them into dust before switching his aim to the scattering empousi. Slinging the nearly depleted MP-5, he unholstered his Beretta and charged from cover, the machine pistol spitting out three-round bursts of nine-millimeter Stygian Iron death, empousi falling and screaming with each deadly salvo. Two final monsters remained, and as they tried to run, his gun clacked open on a smoking empty chamber. Drawing his blades, he judged the distance as the monsters faltered in their run, making one last mistake by looking back. The warrior threw both weapons in underhanded tosses and speared both of them in the gut, watching as they screamed and dissolved, never knowing who their killer was. Retrieving his knives and reloading his guns, he paused, returning his weaponry to his belt before drawing his wand again. The flashes of light told him the battle was still raging, and he hoped there were no casualties as he began moving, opting to flank the Death Eater forces.
Percy Jackson watched as Matthew Cooper sprinted away, going off to fight who knows what. The only thing he could focus on was making sure the Golden Trio were unharmed, no matter the cost. At least, the twelve-year-old war hero thought, there were no monsters. Jackson blocked a stunning spell from a thin-looking man with a mask covering the top half of his face, then sent a returning stunner of his own, already moving. The Death Eater, shocked, had no time to block the spell that struck him directly in the heart, knocking him unconscious. He was about to search for Cooper again when he spotted two more Death Eaters sneaking up behind Sirius Black, who was busy dueling. Signaling Annabeth and Leo, he moved quickly to follow the dark wizards. Three stunning spells struck them from behind, and they toppled face-first onto the hard pavement. The son of Poseidon thought he heard distant screams but couldn't concentrate on them as spells were whizzing over his head, and he was forced to duck to avoid being hit. Rolling, he came up with his wand raised just as four dark wizards stepped directly in front of him, gazing in the direction where Cooper had ran, as if they were expecting something. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he hit all four of them with stunners, the jets of red light striking them in the back of their skulls.
Annabeth watched the two Death Eaters fall, then, like Percy, was forced to duck as spells struck the ground all around her. As she came out of her roll, she smiled as she remembered her hat that could make her invisible. Thinking about it for a moment, she decided not to use it in order to avoid drawing any suspicion. Plus, she reasoned, she would have to use a summoning charm to get it, and it was packed away in her trunk four miles away. Without knowing how long it would take for the spell to work, it wasn't worth the risk. The daughter of Athena rose to her full height and was on the move, wondering where Cooper had ran off to. She had just managed to sneak up on a dark witch who was gazing off into the distance, sending a stunning spell at her from behind when she spotted a second jet of red light fly out of nowhere directly at her. Unable to react quick enough, both stunners hit her, and she crumpled to the ground. She smiled as she continued searching for more Death Eaters. Cooper, being the warrior he was, had snuck off and found a vantage point where he could flank the enemy forces and pick them off one by one. Her theory was further proven as more jets of red light struck unsuspecting hooded figures, who all toppled to the ground without so much as a scream. This was going to be very interesting, the daughter of Athena thought as she recalled Harry's and Cedric's story of the blatant lies about them that had been constantly disseminated through wizarding media outlets. Explaining away a massive ambush force that probably was out to murder anyone that passed was going to be very hard, the demigod reasoned as she knocked out two dark wizards who were trying to sneak up on the Weasley twins. Yet, she knew, if the Ministry of Magic was as determined to keep the rising of Voldemort quiet at all costs, she understood that they would find a way to disregard the battle. As she walked by Leo who was occupied dueling a dark witch and stunned another one pointing her wand at Hermione, she made a mental note to try and gain access to whatever sources of media the wizarding community used.
Nico di Angelo was on the hunt. Moments after he spotted Annabeth walk by Leo, he stunned the dark witch he was dueling since he could tell that his friend needed help, then snuck away from the main battle via shadow travel. His current mission dictated that he find Matthew Cooper and assist him in his stealth takedown of the Death Eater forces. He had traveled to a nearby alley and was about to backtrack when something caught his eye. Moving cautiously forward, he had his wand raised and his other hand underneath his shirt, resting on the hilt of his Stygian Iron sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. The son of Hades stopped, knelt down, and grinned. On the ground was a pile of monster dust that had not yet been carried away since the wind wasn't blowing much. In and around the dust were rounds. Picking one up, he couldn't quite identify the caliber since he didn't know much about mortal weapons, but what intrigued him was the Stygian Iron embedded in the round. So that's where his warrior friend ran off to, he thought. Rising to his feet, he crept into the shadows and continued his search, watching as jets of red light flew from a high vantage point not too far off. As an afterthought, he paused, using a summoning charm to collect the rounds and spent brass scattered everywhere. Pocketing his findings, he stealthily began scattering them in various trash cans as he moved, careful not to leave a pattern just in case someone had the bright idea to dig through the massive dumpsters. He imagined that someone would eventually hear the news of the Death Eater defeat, and promptly wonder about the monsters that were undoubtedly sent to assist. Nico guessed that Cooper had taken the monsters by surprise, having no need to get too close with blades like a demigod would, and cut them down ruthlessly before they knew what hit them. If that was true, he didn't want their enemies finding out about their defeat through the use of Cooper's firearms. That, he knew, could prove disastrous, and he wanted their ace in the hole to last for as long as it could.
With his cleanup complete, he once again looked up, watching as the flashes of red light continued flying from someone who was hiding on what Nico figured was the roof of an abandoned building. The demigod wasn't as good as Cooper was in combat, let alone covert operations, but he knew he had something the soldier didn't, and that was shadow travel. Not wanting to alert Cooper to his presence just yet, he traveled to the building where he saw the flashes of red light flying from, keeping himself concealed in the shadows as he quietly crept up the side of the building. Landing on the roof moments later, he found he was on the opposite end of where Cooper lay prone, far too focused on stunning Death Eaters to notice the young war hero. Quietly, so as not to distract the soldier, Nico shadow traveled a few feet behind him, then dropped prone, sliding the last few feet to the edge of the roof. Raising his wand, he found he could observe the entire battle as he sent a stunning spell of his own at a massive dark wizard who looked like he was about to capture the Golden Trio. Cooper nodded slightly as he finally appeared to notice the demigod, then resumed his rapid fire sniping of dark wizards.
With the two of them hidden on the roof, the Death Eater forces were rapidly reduced. Several of them tried to hunt for their concealed ambushers, but both Bolan and di Angelo could tell they didn't even possess a modicum of skill when it came to anything outside the normal wizarding ways of war. Flashes of light the dark wizards sent came nowhere near the two skilled fighters, but instead went low and landed somewhere on the concrete. With their positions revealed, they were quickly stunned. Nico searched for more targets as the main battle was winding down, with Percy, Annabeth, and Leo sneaking up to the remaining witches trying unsuccessfully to duel Frank, Hazel, Piper, Jason and Will all at the same time. Severely outnumbered and outwitted, stunners from the eight demigods struck them at the same time, and they fell hard onto the ground like sacks of potatoes. Wasting no time, Nico grabbed the Executioner and jumped off the roof, quickly causing shadows to form a makeshift cushion. As soon as they hit the ground, he shadow traveled both of them back to their friends, who were surveying the battleground. At least four dozen unconscious bodies were sprawled and scattered everywhere. Most of them were adults, but what Nico found most interesting as he kicked over the frames of two smaller and masked figures was that there were some children thrown into the mix. Removing the mask on one of them, he saw a boy no older than he was. The child lay on the ground, his mouth open in something resembling glee. That was odd, Nico thought as he quickly made a decision.
"Everyone, he said urgently, "come look at this."
Bolan and the others rushed to where Nico stood, hovering over one of the unconscious bodies. As soon as the Executioner glanced down, he knew why the war hero had spoken so urgently. All of them gazed in shock at a boy who couldn't be older than eleven. He had blue eyes and short brown hair, and the expression on his face was perhaps the most disturbing. The child looked gleeful, as if he was enjoying the fight. Immediately, the Executioner pulled his secure phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the boy, then methodically began rolling over more bodies, young and old alike, and snapped their photos as well. That done, he instructed the others to replace the masks on the faces of the Death Eaters exactly the way they had been worn before, then they rapidly left the scene, returning to Grimmauld Place via apparition. The soldier was the first one through the door, entering the living room, his mind buzzing with questions. Albus Dumbledore rose from the couch, sipping from a glass.
"I was wondering where you all went, he started, his face lit up with a smile. "I believe that I forgot to mention – what's wrong?"
"How soon can you get everyone together?" Bolan asked in reply.
"Do we need to have an Order meeting?" The wizard asked, looking puzzled as the others filed in, returning wands to pockets.
"Yes, but that can wait. Right now, I need everyone, including the students, to be here ASAP."
"We're all here," Leo said.
"I'll have the rest of the Order here within less than a minute," Dumbledore assured Bolan.
As the Hogwarts headmaster left the room, Bolan took the time to send a message to Hal Brognola. Normally, he'd send the photos to Barbra Price or Aaron Kurtzman, but as far as he knew, only Hal understood the true magnitude of his current mission. Since it involved two worlds hidden from most of humanity, he'd have to run everything through the one he knew could see through the Mist and had a connection to the wizarding world. Then, of course, it would be up to the Big Fed on how to proceed. If he chose to utilize the resources of the Farm and had to make up a story to get the intel ball rolling, then so be it. If, however, he couldn't utilize the Farm, Bolan knew the Big Fed would stop at nothing to find answers. Making sure all the pictures were attached to the text message, he hit the send button just as the remaining Order members began arriving.
"OK, Matthew, what did you need to share with us?" Dumbledore asked.
Bolan and those who were with him launched into a lengthy explanation of the battle. The soldier informed everyone of the conversation he had heard between the empousi and how he'd gunned them down along with the rest of the monster army. As soon as everyone was done sharing their parts of the battle in explicit detail, leaving nothing out, Dumbledore looked at Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror nodded, and Bolan knew what Dumbledore had wanted to know.
"Severus," the elderly wizard said, his eyes burning.
"I received nothing on my end, the potions professor proclaimed.
"What do you suggest our next course of action be, Matthew?" Moody barked.
"First, I'd like to meet with Professor Snape in private. After that, I propose we form a small strike team. Something tells me that there's a Death Eater training ground somewhere, and I'd ideally like to just do a soft probe, but I want a team assembled just in case things go south."
The rest of the Order, Bolan knew, understood what he was talking about. The kids, however, looked slightly confused.
"Fill them in," Dumbledore requested of the Order members.
Several people launched into some of the more pertinent details of the conversation that had taken place the night before. When they were done, the demigods sighed.
"So, let's talk the strike team for a moment," Moody said. "How do you want to handle this?"
Bolan thought for a moment. He knew stealth would be of the utmost importance. Following that, there was the very real possibility of the soft probe turning hard fast, which meant that if they found the training ground Snape had spoken of the night before, it would need to be destroyed. He also was forced to consider the possibility of monsters pulling some twisted form of guard duty at whatever compound they found, and he wanted more than one person on the team who was able to deal with that particular threat. Though there were a lot of factors to consider, he knew that he couldn't have too big of a team, but that didn't mean they couldn't have reinforcements. Slowly, as the Executioner helped himself to a glass of water, a plan began to form in his mind.
"Alright, here's what I'm thinking."
Denver, Colorado
Sammy Dylans smiled as he sat at a table in the food court of a shopping mall, sipping a massive coke as he polished off his fourth sandwich. He wasn't alone. Two of his best friends, Bobby and Triston, were also sitting with him, munching on food. The three of them were veterans of both the Second Titan War and the Giant War. It was a true pity that both times the three young demigods had been on the losing side. But despite the terrible losses they had suffered, none of them were convinced that they were on the wrong side. In fact, they enjoyed where they were at. Sure, they had partnered with evil monsters, but the kids didn't care. After all, they were considered evil in their own right. Dylans, for his part, grew up in Chicago, surrounded by violence of all types from as early as he could remember. His mom was a woman addicted to far too much alcohol. As Sammy let his mind wander, he couldn't remember a single day where his mom wasn't carrying around a bottle of one alcoholic beverage or another. Day in and day out, she drank anything she could either pick up from the liquor store or steal. As a result, she had gone blind from drinking an improperly concocted Moonshine. His dad was never around. In his place was a hard-working and kindhearted stepfather named Earl Gibson. Gibson did everything he could to care for him, since he was an only child, and from an early age he liked and trusted the man.
When he was five, Gibson was shot and killed on his way to work, caught in the crossfire of a vicious gang war. That, Dylans remembered, was around the time his mom went blind. Tired of her drunken wanderings around the house that caused her to smash into walls, laughing loudly, and fueled by anger at whoever had killed his father figure, the young boy had walked into the kitchen and grabbed a massive knife, freshly sharpened by Gibson moments before he had departed for work. Concealing himself in a corner, his mom had stumbled into the room seconds later, setting a glass on the counter. Reaching for a massive bottle of whiskey, she had managed to pull it from the shelf and bring it halfway to the counter when the bottle slipped from her hand, falling to the floor with a loud thud and shattering on impact. The young demigod smiled as he thought back to what had happened after that. As soon as the bottle hit the floor, the child had come out of hiding and stabbed the woman in the back. She had died not too long after. Since that night, Dylans had been through a lot. First was the fighting with the gangs, and, by accident, he had met the two kids sitting at the table with him, who were also wandering the streets at the time. Then came the monsters, charging out of alleyways disguised as gang members then rapidly shifting into Laistrygonian Giants. Rescued by some other kids with swords, the three boys found themselves drawn into an entirely new world, one where Greek mythology came to life. They had been trained in combat and had found out who their godly parents were. Sammy was a son of Zeus, and both Triston and Bobby were sons of Poseidon.
None of the three young veterans knew if their godly parents had other children. The battles they had fought had been far too chaotic for any of them to think about the idea, not that they would care anyway, Dylans thought as he rose from his seat.
"I'm going to get some burgers," he said. "You guys want anything?"
His friends told him what they wanted, and he smiled, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. Walking up to the first of the burger joints, he put in his order before moving down the line. When he finally returned to the table, he was expertly balancing four trays piled high with burgers and fries. Thankful his friends had finished their previous meals and cleared the table, he grinned widely as he set the trays down.
"Thank you Robison," Triston said with a sigh as he grabbed four cheeseburgers and two bags of fries, "for this magnificent meal!"
"Yes!" Dylans exclaimed.
As the three kids ate, two men and a woman who were sitting at a table a few feet away rose to their feet, rapidly exiting the food court. One of the men pressed a button on the recording device, making sure to save the voice recording before shutting the device off. Watching them leave, Dylans smiled.
"Someone's on to us," he said as he munched on a French fry.
"That's good," Bobby spoke up, his eyes gleaming with a look the other two demigods knew all too well. "You know, I've heard some hushed talk about this commando and his forces causing quite a ruckus on Half-Blood Hill. I wonder where they are now?"
"What's Robison been saying?" Triston asked, his hand drifting slowly underneath the black sweatshirt he wore.
"Apparently the latest attack didn't go well. He's got pictures from his spy drone of the commando guy and the demigods fighting the hellhounds, then there's nothing after that."
"What of Riddle's forces?" Sammy asked.
"He's been upping the amount of operations. From his last report, his recruitment efforts are working. He now has enough dark wizards to send out ambush teams as large as fifty to anywhere he wants. I've heard he started doing that already, but he's trying to go slow to start."
"Well," Sammy said, grinning, "now I see your point. If we can create a distraction here, we'll draw out the commando and whoever he's working with."
"That was Robison's plan exactly! You see, the fact that someone's after us only helps. Whoever they are, you know, FBI or whatever, at least they'll make it out alive to share our message."
"I saw one of them with a voice recorder. They have just enough intel to figure out we're working with Robison."
"Perfect! Let's move."
With those words, the three ten-year-old war veterans reached under their sweatshirts, unslinging their machine pistols. The boys had trained extensively in the tactics and weapons of the mortal world, curtesy of Robison and his forces as part of their arrangement. With their knowledge and because they were young and unsuspecting, the criminal mastermind had requested they take the mission they were about to embark on, which was to kill as many people as possible, then run for the hills before they were caught or shot by police. The three covert operatives might pose a problem if they hadn't yet left, but the kids doubted they were still around. Checking their pockets, they made sure they had plenty of ammo as they revealed MAC-10 machine pistols for all to see. Flicking the selector to full-auto, Dylans was the first to fire, sending a long burst into a group of people waiting in one of the lines. He watched as several men trying in vain to protect their wives and children collapsed onto the floor, leaking blood from several new holes in their chests. Screams erupted from the massive crowd as his two friends joined him, opening up with deadly hailstorms of nine-millimeter death of their own.
Several intense and terrifying seconds went by as the boys were on the move, firing their weapons and cutting down everyone who got in the way. As they stepped through the exit doors moments later, they were surprised to find that they had gone through all their ammo. Sprinting, they listened as the sounds of police sirens grew louder. With no more use for the MAC-10s, they tossed the guns into the nearest trash cans they saw. Half-a-block later, a black SUV pulled up to them, and the three demigods climbed in.
"Mission successful," Triston said to their guards as they drove away.
Smiling, Sammy Dylans eagerly awaited his next mission. Hopefully soon, he thought, the American commando and the demigod forces who had already caused them too many inconveniences would take the bait. When they did, Dylans and his crew would be waiting. Yes, he thought, what a glorious day that would be. In the very near future, a new world would be born, and the young war vet was quite glad that, this time, he would be on the winning side.
Author's Note: Cliffhanger! Told you this would be slightly dark, but trust me, it's needed for the storyline. We're delving into the deep, dark, psychopathic villains! Woo! What are your thoughts? What ideas do you have? What would you like to see next? Let me know if you spot any errors, and I'll fix them. Hope you enjoyed! Chapter eight's in the works and will be up soon. Let me know if you have any ideas for what you'd like to see in the next chapter, and I'll try and incorporate them if I can. Until next time!