THREE DAYS PREVIOUSLY . . .
Artie sniffed the air as the wind changed. He smiled as bent to examine the tracks left by his prey. A young white tailed buck with a slight limp in his right foreleg. He was impressed that it had survived so long without a bobcat or alligator catching him. Artie checked the sun position and frowned. He had lost track of time stalking the elusive buck. He had only a few precious hours to return home, either with or without the buck. Normally he would have stayed until he caught his prey, but with his new home in Miami came with a few restrictions. One being a curfew among them which he found hard to get used to.
Tobias landed on a perched and chirped at Artie who nodded and carefully advanced forward, making sure to keep his hunting bow ready. Artie's bow was a simple wooden bow made from a yew tree. As were the arrows in the quiver that hung on his left hip. He could have used his magic bow from Artemis, but he would have to guard against it snagging on branches and bushes which made so much noise, he might as well hunt with a boombox strapped to his back. Still he made sure to keep it close at hand as well as his magic quiver that was slung over his bareback. With each step, Artie could feel the soft mud and sparse grass bend and sink under his bare feet. He smiled to himself, the soft earth would muffle his footsteps and the rising mist would conceal him partially. If he was careful not to snap a twig in his wake, then with some luck he would catch his prey. This came to mind when he crouched behind a wide mangrove tree and saw his prey standing before a small creek. Artie carefully drew an arrow and nocked as the young buck looked around before stopping to drink. Artie kept perfectly still, one move and the buck would launch deeper into the Everglades costing him time,time he did not have. As he waited, he made sure what he was looking at.
The deer's coat was a reddish-brown which he knew they had in the spring and summer, but it would turn to a grey-brown when fall began. He could just see the white underside to its tail, making this a white tailed deer. It was still young, its antlers were still small compared to a full grown buck. He felt a twinge of guilt, but it was necessary. A full grown buck would be to large for him to carry and the meat would old and tough. He also refused to shot any female deer on the off chance they might be pregnant. All this went through Artie waited for the buck to drink from the creek. It was another half minute before the buck became satisfied that if was safe and bent to drink. Artie relaxed slightly and took at aim right behind the shoulder blade where most of the buck's vitals were. Artie pulled back the string slowly so not to alert the buck to his presence. He waited for a moment and released the arrow just as exhaled, exactly like Chiron had taught him. The buck whipped his head from the creek at the sound only to be taken off it's feet by the arrow's momentum. Artie watched as it struggled for minute to get up before it laid still. Artie stood up from his crouch and walked to the buck. He saw it was still twitching as it clung to life, Artie ended its suffering with a quick sudden twist of the drew a knife from his belt and knelt next to the now dead buck.
Though he prefered his Bolo knives, this Bowie knife was meant for hunting. It was roughly ten inches long and a quarter inch thick. It was straight-backed with a slight clip point and a hand guard, with a simple riveted wood scale handle. Unlike the others, this version was only single edged. This was meant to reduce the danger of cutting oneself while butchering and skinning the carcass. And while it was an excellently made knife, it would not kill any monsters should he be ambushed. Using the point, he dug out the arrow. He wiped the blood off the shaft and tip before returning it to the quiver, then followed by the bow itself.
Artie was about to throw the buck over his shoulder when he heard a twig snap loudly behind him. Instantly Artie whipped around to find himself facing a Florida Panther and two cubs. The mother's coat was completely tan with faded spots and yellow eyes. The cubs were spotted had blue eyes, but all of them had an underbelly that was creamy white, with black tips on the tail and ears. The mother was watching for any aggressive movement, Artie judged by her tail twitching back and forth patiently. He guessed she was close by, heard Artie killing the buck, and came to investigate. Artie stood still as he waited for the mother to pounce. His gaze went to the cubs and saw them watching him with hungry eyes. As if to convey the thought further, each one of their stomach's growled and Artie understood.
He carefully stood up straight and slowly walked to the edge of the creek. He held up a hand and concentrated. Slowly, his nails grew until they became an inch and a half long claws. Quick as lighting, he struck at the creek three times. In less than a second, Artie had three small fresh water trouts. He tossed them in front of the panthers and waited. He locked eyes with the mother and nodded firmly. They each took a trout in their mouths and walked away, dismissing him with a wave of their tails. Artie smiled, threw the buck over his shoulders, and began the five mile trek back to The Trading Post.
It took Artie a little over an hour to reach the old looking log cabin with sign hanging over the doorway that displayed the name. The Trading Post was just what the name implied. It was post that allowed hunters and the like to trade for various supplies. It also bought the hides and meat if one did not wish to trade. He walked to the porch where a pack he had made from leather scraps and branches still laid. He set down the buck and slipped on a tank top and a pair of sandals. He always felt off whenever he hunted wearing a shirt and shoes, still he couldn't exactly go around town as a wannabe Tarzan. He threw the buck back on his shoulders and went inside. The inside looked like a typical hunting store. Various kinds of knives hung in locked display cases, all meant for everything from fishing to skinning. Below them were several kinds of axes and hatchets. In the far corner dozen upon dozen fishing poles stuck up over the shelves. Different style lanterns hung overhead, some lite some not. As Artie walked up to the counter, he could smell the aroma of different kinds of bait and hear the faint beeps of GPS's.
Artie reached the counter and rang the bell twice. As he waited for Paul Bonjean, the owner and manager, Artie looked down at the glass display case full of rifles and shotguns. Artie was far from being pacifist, but he did not believe in guns. They made things to easy. Hunting required skill and patience, which was pretty thrown out the window with rifles that allowed one to kill a target from so far away you hardly see it and ammunition that blew the target in half at close range. For him, a bow leveled the playing field somewhat. He found It was a duel of a hunter's intelligence versus a prey's instincts. Nature against nature, not nature versus military grade weaponry.
"Well, the great hunter returns." announced Paul Bonjean as he came in from the back. "How many did you bag this time?"
Artie smiled. "Just the one."
If one were to meet Paul Bonjean in a dark alley, you would turn tail and run. Paul refereed to himself as a gentle giant, with an emphasis on giant. He stood almost seven feet tall and was two-hundred pounds of pure muscle. To Artie, he looked like a modern day lumberjack with his deep blond hair and a thick beard to match. Though his eyes seemed so gentle that you could mistake them for a child's eyes. His laugh was so deep and rich, it was infectious.
Paul motioned for Artie to hand over the buck which he did. Paul weighed the buck in arms. "I'd say about . . . seventy pounds all in all. Usual deal?"
Artie nodded. "Yeah. A hundred for the hide, head, and viscera. I'll take the meat with me."
Paul motioned at the Bowie knife at Artie's belt. "You forgetting something?"
Artie looked down and saw what he meant. Paul had sold him the knife on credit. "Then take it out of the buck."
Paul laughed lightly as he hit button on a cash register, "So fifty this time. I tried to talk you out of it."
Artie just smiled, "What's that Sinatra song say? Nothing but the best is good enough for me?"
After Paul butchered the buck, he wrapped the meat in several cloth bundles which became stained slightly with the buck's blood. With his pack stuffed with cloth wrapped venison, Artie hurried home. He could have ran the entire way, but he decided against it. He had no desire to tire himself without due cause and he had enough money to hop from bus to bus to get to his home if the buses broke down or ran into heavy traffic, he'd just hop off and run the rest of the way. As luck would have it, the forth bus hit heavy traffic as it neared Harbor Bay. Artie checked the sun's position and frowned, he really didn't have time for this. He shouldered his pack and hopped off the bus.
He picked his way through crowds of tourist, glad that soon he would be at Camp Half Blood with Apollonia. As he was bumped for the third time in as many seconds, he figured he could cut through the beach then the marina where people housed their boats. He managed to cross the beach without stepping on too many people or demolishing sandcastles. He hopped over a small fence and began walking through the marina. It was fairly empty except for some old fishermen loading their boats with fishing supplies. Artie made it halfway through before someone large yanked off his feet and into the air, held by the straps of his pack.
"Where you going?" asked the cyclops as he turned Artie to face him. "Boat to cruise is other way."
"Maldição!" Artie cursed as he kicked and struggled to get free. "Let me go."
The cyclops eyed Artie's pack and sniffed, "What you have in bag? Smells tasty." He opened the top of pack and began digging around.
"Sai lá!" Artie protested. "That's mine."
The cyclops popped a bundle of venison into his mouth, cloth and all. "Tasty. For that, you no die for leaving army."
"What!" Artie yelped as the cyclops carried him to a speedboat and threw him in like a rag doll.
Artie would have bolted right then and there if not for the spear tips inches from neck. He recognized the monsters holding them were dracanae, humanoid females with twin serpent trunks instead of legs. Artie had run into them before but only recently learned what they were called. The boat shook as the cyclops stepped aboard and the dracanae eyed him, but kept their spears pointed at Artie.
"Who isss thisss? asked the one on the left.
"Another for the caussssse?" asked the one on the right.
The cyclops turned the key in the ignition and the engined roared to life, "Found him trying to get away."
"Really?" said lefty with a smile, "Perhapsss we should teach him a lessssson about desssssertion?"
Righty nodded enthusiastically. "It hassss been agesss ssssince I tasssted half blood flessshhh."
"No!" said the cyclops as they raced out to sea. "Master Luke said no eating half bloods."
The cyclops winked at Artie who wasn't sure if it was a wink or a blink. Artie did his best to not make eye contact with the dracanea who were watching with hungry eyes. This was a problem as well as disturbing. If they weren't watching him so closely, Artie would have jumped overboard and take his chances swimming back to shore. It was critical that he never reached wherever they were going. The cyclops mentioned Luke and a cruise ship which Artie guessed was stocked to the brim with monsters like his traveling companions. The monsters might consider him an ally, but that would end the moment they brought him before Luke. The sun had set below the horizon when the speedboat reached the Princess Andromeda. With no place to go, Artie followed the monsters up the rope ladder to the upper decks. It was fairly dark as monsters, half bloods, and hypnotized tourists made their way to their rooms. The dracanea half slithered half walked away as the cyclops lead Artie across the main deck, past the pools and down a corridor with dozen of doors on either side. Artie did his best to keep a straight face as he saw several half bloods, some of which looked like they were deciding whether they recognized him or not. Luckily the cyclops opened a door and Artie quickly stepped in before anyone could make sure.
The room looked normal. A small circular window that looked out to the sea. Walls decorated with white wallpaper that had pictures of fish and tropical islands. There was a dresser and nightstands on eithe side of a queen size bed. The only things that stood out were the manniquien wearing a full bronze armor set and the open suitcase on the unmade bed. Upon further examination, Artie saw that the mattress and sheets had several gashes as well as the carpet and on the wall. It was almost as if a serious fight had occured, but wihout more to go on, Artie couldn't tell who or what was fighting or who won.
"Well this room looks occupied." said Artie as he began walking out. "I'll just take the speedboat back and - - -"
The cyclops grabbed by the pack with a laugh, "You funny. This room now yours. So is armor and weapons."
"But the suitcase - - -"
"Half blood tried to desert army." the cyclops explained. "Penalty for desertion is death. But I not tell anyone if you give me tasty meat again."
Artie handed the cyclops another bundle of venison from his back, the biggest one he had. "Sounds good to me."
He belched and petted his belly, "Thank you. See you in morning."
The cyclops closed the door as he left which Artie promptly locked, his fingers shaking as he tried not to panic. He forced himself to take deep breaths as he paced the room, often stopping whenever he heard someone or something walk past the door. He could not escape tonight, that was much clear. The cyclops had mentioned the previous occupant had tried to escape and was killed. That meant anyway off the ship would be under heavy guard. Had he been a child of Poseidon, he simply jump overboard. Though he was sure even Percy would have trouble doing that. So swimming to shore was definitely impossible for him.
Come on think!, he told himself, Do what you always do! Use what you have around you,
He ran and opened the dresser and nightstands, searching for anything that might help him. He even checked under the bathroom sink. All he found were several rolls of cheap toilet paper and several items of clothing, all of which were for girls. He turned to the suitcase and began tossing clothes in desperation. Shirts, pants, even socks and underwear soon littered the floor as if a small tornado blew in. In a matter of seconds, the suitcase was empty for a small make-up case and box of red hair dye. Unless he wanted to look his best before he was kill, Artie had nothing.
He flopped on top of the bed and fought the urge to scream, At least in the everglades I had plenty to work with. Here I got nothing, unless I want to cover up some acne . . . Cover up? . . . That's it!
Artie picked up the make-up case and hair dye and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Artie quickly splashed water on his face and rubbed soap onto his skin to create a thin lather. He drew his knife and carefully shaved, making sure to leave a thin mustache and connecting goatee. He preferred to be clean shaven and though she wouldn't admit it to him, Artie knew that Apollonia preferred he had some scruff on his face. Once he finished shaving, he undid the thin leather cord that held his hair in a pony tail. Using his knife, Artie cut his hair so it hung just below his ears rather than down to his shoulder like he preferred. He opened the package of hair dye, struggled to read the instructions, and went to work. While his hair set, Artie dabbed at his facial hair. He stopped every few seconds to make sure it matched his new hair color. He rinsed his hair and face after another hour. He smiled at his reflection as he saw was half way there. He picked up the make-up, selected the lightest tone, and began applying. He had seen Apollonia apply make-up only a few times and even those memories were fuzzy. Still when he finished, he was impressed how in a couple of hours he had become a new person. He slipped on a button down shirt, which was really a blouse, along with a pair of blue jeans and boots.
Still there was another problem to address. The issue that some half bloods might recognize his voice. Combined with the fact that some had already stared at him, trying to put where they had seen him. He pondered at the issue as he walked out of the bathroom. He was so engrossed in thought, he failed to see Tobias perched on the armored mannequin. It wasn't until he squawked that Artie noticed him. Artie quickly rushed to close the window, making sure no one was around before doing so.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Tobias who cocked his head and squawked. "Não o tempo para piadas Tobias." Yeah I know the window. I mean why are you here? If anyone sees you here, they'll know who I am." Artie scooped up his magic quiver and set it next to the chair. "Look, I don't have time to explain. I just can't leave right now. I doubt I'd get far even if I could get off this ship. I need you to take the quiver, it'll be too much to explain if someone finds it." Tobias looked irritated but took the quiver in his talons. "Don't worry I'm just gonna buy myself some time until I can get off this ship."
Artie opened the window as Tobias took off into the night sky. Artie checked the clock on the nightstand and saw he had a few hours until dawn. Artie collapsed in a chair and fought the urge to fall asleep. The next part could either save him or kill him. This went through his head as he mentally sifted through dozens of old movies. All of them with one thing in common, each had a character with a thick Irish brogue. It was one thing to have the stereotypical hair and skin, but the accent would sell it. Artie had always toyed with the idea of becoming an actor if he ever lived long enough to get into films, but he wasn't sure if he ever had a talent for acting. If his plan worked, it would be all the proof he would ever need. He continued committing countless idioms and inflections until the sun just peaked over the ocean. He set his jaw and grabbed his pack on the way out, which was still stuffed with cloth wrapped venison.
Artie quickly and quietly sneaked to the end of the corridor where it ended with a railing that prevent half blood and monster alike from falling overboard. Artie checked around to make sure he wasn't being watched. He set down his pack and untied his necklace. He drew his knife and drew a breath before he gave a finger a small cut. He squeezed and smeared the blood on the necklace before tossing it on the floor. He then opened his bow and smeared a little on it as well before laying on the ground. Artie then cut himself in several places, making sure not to cut too deep and soaked into his new shirt and pants. He also splashed blood around him, hoping to make it look like a serious fight had just happened.
As he did he prayed silently, Poseidon, I may not be your kid, but I could use some help. I know I wasn't personally there to return the masterbolt last year with Percy, and he did all the hard work, but I did help a little. I'm not sure if it counts for anything, but I really need some help.
He opened the pack and sank the knife into a hunk of meat. He yanked out the knife as the blood ran down and dripped onto the floor. He took a deep breath and began stomping around as loud as he could while he slashed at the railings with his knife. He pretended to yell in pain before he tossed the pack overboard which he followed with another yell. He leaned against a wall and slid onto the floor pretending to catch his breath as a dracenae and a cyclops ran down the corridor and half bloods opened their door to see what the commotion was.
"That'll . . . teach . . . the little brown trout . . . ta mess with me." said Artie in a thick Irish brogue. "I ain't no lazy dosser."
The dracaenae pointed her trident at Artie and demanded. "What happened here? I sssssmell blood. Demigod blood."
Artie slapped the point of the trident and pretended to be offended. "That the thanks I git for saving our clique? Don't git yer knackers in a bunch, I'll tell ya in a second. Just let me catch me breath."
The cyclops growled as he picked up Artie by the shirt and held him against the wall. "What happened? Talk now or - - -"
"Or what? Ya gammy header." He challenged.
"Or we'll find out how strong of a swimmer you are." said a voice.
Artie and the cyclops looked to see Luke flanked by Oreius and Agrius. All of them looked annoyed at being woken up so early and were itching for someone to blame. Artie wasn't sure how, but he guessed it would involve the bear twin's javelins and Luke's sword.
Luke turned to Artie, "What happened?"
Artie jerked his head at the cyclops, "I'll tell ya once this caffler puts me down."
Luke gestured for the cyclops to put Artie down. The second Artie's feet touched the floor, Luke demanded. "Now are you going to tell us what happened or is the drakon below decks gonna have an early breakfast?"
Artie dusted himself off and winced at his self inflicted wounds. "Well I heard a ruckus past me door and I was about to give whatever thick ape a whatfor when I saw it was just 'nother demigod."
The dracaenae cocked her head, "I don't undersssstand what he isss sssaying."
"Funny accent." agreed the cyclops.
"He's Irish." explained Luke impatiently. "Go on."
"At first I thought he was just sneaking a fag, wouldn't be tha first time I caught someone." Artie continued. "Since I was up anyway, figured I have a word with the bucko about letting us proper soldiers sleep. I walked up to him pretty as ye please and then the chancer comes at me like a hardchaw. This bloke was fast and about as rough as a bear's arse."
"Hey!" snapped the bear twins together.
Artie ignored them and continued. "Managed to draw me knife without gettin' too flittered. Backed me against tha wall and I thought I had about 'alf a second to say me final hail marys. Gave the dodger a nice headbutt to make him relax, must 'ave hit him harder than I 'taut cause he backed up real quick. Now I'm not one to let an oppurtinity pass me by, so I up real close like and intoduced 'im to tha bussniess end of me knife. Before he knew aht hit 'im, gave him a swift Deadner in tha chest and sent him over tha railing ta cool off."
Agruis scratched his head, "Anyone else get that?"
Luke rolled his eyes, "Someone woke him up and attacked him without any reason. They fought for a while and he sent the other guy overboard after stabbing him."
Artie nodded, "Isn't that what I just said?"
Luke looked around and saw the necklace and bow on the floor stained with blood. "Those are Artie's."
"Artie's?" asked Artie. "Who's dat?"
"A half blood from camp." explained Luke. "He is - was the son of Artemis."
Artie cocked his head. "I think I had something crazy and impossible in me ear, ya mind repeating that?"
Luke cocked his at the railing and told Agruis, "Check the water."
Agruis poked his head over the railing. Several feet below he saw a small pool of bloodied water. He squinted to get a better view when a shark leaped out of the water with a piece of bloody meat in its teeth. He saw that two more smaller shark were swimming around the bloody circle in the water. He caught a glimpse of a piece of cloth or leather before it started to sink. If someone was alive when they went in, they weren't anymore.
"Well judging from what left of him," said Agruis. "He didn't get along with the sharks."
Luke picked up the necklace and examined it. "This was definitely Artie's. The bow too." He turned to Artie. "Nice work . . . what was your name?"
Artie grinned. "The name is Benedict. Arnold Benedict."