In which we discuss plot with Ares. Next up is Hermes on setting.

O-o

Ares was a biker. A godly gangster. And as such was completely above such mundane things as offices.

All they were were briefing rooms for emergencies, to have some sense of normalcy for the interviewers. But maybe Ares was called in more often, because he had spent a lot of time converting his room into a trashy restaurant complete with well endowed waitresses in black leather fitted aprons. Storm looked around, nervously wondering if she should have sent Theia and Zoe instead.

No. It's your duty as one of the oldest writers on the fandom. Anyway. You owe them for not being there for weeks… she and Sheva stared at each other, a silent question as to who should go in first. As it turned out, they didn't get a choice.

"May I take your order?" A waitress said in what was clearly supposed to be a seductive voice. Then she stopped, realizing her customers were teenage girls, and stared in shock. Storm, blonde and blue eyed. Sheva, hazel eyes and brown hair. Clearly not children of Ares. She started over, and in a much ruder voice: "What do you want?"

"Um…" Storm wasn't sure I she wanted to eat anything served by a waitress in leathers.

"I bet it's not kosher," Sheva whispered. The waitress didn't seem to hear.

"We, uh, we had a meeting with Ares. I'm storm-brain?" It came out as a question. The waitress frowned, pulling out an iPad and opening it to the calendar page.

"Ah, yes. He isn't here right now. I'll call him." She put the iPad away and took out an iPhone. Storm scowled. Why was this place all Apple?

She and Sheva were shown to a booth in the back. After a moments hesitation, they both slid onto the same side so that no one would need to sit next to the war god, if and when he showed up.

Storm was a little relieved he wasn't there yet, but was also annoyed. She hated when things didn't go to plan.

But he drove in a few minutes later, parking his motorcycle right next to the booth.

"Oh. You're here several minutes before you were expected."

"No," Sheva said boldly. "You're late."

"A god is never late. Everyone else is early."

Sheva narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"Now, what were you going to talk to me about?" Ares snapped his fingers at one of the waitresses, and she brought over a cheeseburger as big as a boxing glove. Storm figured that he didn't need to worry about his calorie intake. But all she could think of as she stared at it was all the starving people in the world.

"If you're talking about North Korea, I want to remind you that we've been through this before and—"

"We're not here about North Korea." Sheva said, showing a little of the frustration normally reserved for Mary Sues. "We're from the Veritas here to talk to you about fanfiction clichés."

"Ah." The fat from his burger rolled down his chin. "Well, what about it?"

"What clichés have you noticed often lately?"

"Well, the anti Ares. I never read about MY kids doing anything cool."

"Um, I covered you two year ago." Storm said quietly.

"And made me look like an idiot. TTYL my—"

"You ARE an idiot." Sheva smiled. "Anyway. Ares as the bad guy. Number one on your list, Storm."

1. Ares as the bad guy.

"There are ways you can write clichés well, of course," Storm pointed out. "I have yet to see a story where, say, Ares holds a grudge because of a vital reason, or someone having to be Ares's servant, or something."

"I like the sound of that." Ares wiped juice off his chin with his hand before swallowing the rest of the burger. "Hey, you. Get me some pork." The waitress he was pointing at scampered off.

"The quest stories are also overdone," Sheva mused.

"Yeah. I'm sick of hearing about goody two shoes halfbloods saving the world. Be creative. It's possible to completely revolutionize the meaning of quest." Ares snapped his fingers. "Faster, you!"

The pork bearing waitress ran forward, and he snatched what looked like a whole pig from her.

"Not all quests are cliché. I mean, I've seen some good quest stories. They just need to be well written and interesting." Storm paused. "Only better writers can pull that off. Otherwise it's just a pain in the butt. Like werewolves and vamps, you know?"

"Right-o." Ares swallowed a mouthful whole. Sheva frowned at it, but didn't comment.

"You want some?" Ares had either misinterpreted her stare or was making fun of them. Storm wanted to say yes—it was perfectly cooked, tender and, and made her stomach bubble. But she didn't trust it. Maybe he was trying to poison them. And she was all too conscious of Sheva next to her, staring at Ares as if she'd never seen a biker with flaming eyeballs before.

"Guess now." Storm mumbled. "Um…"

Sheva was still staring, and Ares finally pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. Storm made a note.

Sheva vs. Ares staredown. Winner: Sheva.

"OK. So let's be more creative about how our characters get claimed. Not during capture the flag. There is no excuse for a character to be claimed during capture the flag." Ares said finally.

"No matter how creatively you write it." Storm added, making a note. "It's just gotten old. Same with being attacked by a teacher."

"Sometimes that works, but it has to be different." Sheva said, finally breaking her silence. "but it has to be really, really different, but even if it is, it's probably not going to work. You'll just get written off as a copycat."

"And no chatspeak." Ares banged his fist on the table for emphasis. "Ever."

"Because Ares can't read it," Storm smirked.

"It's just annoying."

"It makes the author look like an idiot, for one," Sheva said, eyes burning. "It's a pain to read. I don't care if you write it all on your phone. It must be in real English."

"And no IM conversations, unless they're, at most, ten lines." Storm was typing furiously. "Never tell an entire story in chat."

"Right. Put that in caps, Storm."

NO CHATSPEAK EVER

"Also, if you create a child of the Three and have them be the prophesy kid, you need to make the story really, really good. Because, frankly, we're sick of prophesy kids." Ares cracked his knuckles before shoving nearly a whole leg into his mouth. "The minute we find out they're Big Three, we have a good guess that they're the one."

"It's really hard to pull that off. Stay clear. Especially since most of the Big Choices are lame." Sheva grumbled, stroking her disco ball/mary sue killer.

"And, on that, to have Percy and Annabeth's kid show up at camp you need a really unique plot. Really unique." Ares reminded everyone. "I mean, the thought of those two… ew. Not something I want to be reminded of very often." Then he pointed to a waitress. "Pizza. Olive. Now. Then I gotta run."

Sheva and Storm walked out as quickly as they could.

Storm's final list of clichés:

2.Being attacked by a teacher

3.Claimed during capture the flag

4.Anything dramatic happening during capture the flag

5.Quests to rescue something important

6.Big Three kid

7.Percy's sister

8.Daughter of Artemis

9.Percabeth

10.Percabeth

11.Percabeth

12.Percabeth

13.Percabeth

O-o

My quest for IC gods continues. I'm not sure how well I handled Ares.

Theia—Ok. Will fix the typos. Thanks! And yes, that would be the story.

Kaleidoscope—Thanks! Yeah it always makes me sad when a story has potential and then it dies.

You Know Who—Sheva's Jewish. It was a joke.

Jake-- …what's this about a conspiracy? *is confused*

PersonaNonGrata—yeah? Like where?

Luna—Thanks

FishPony—I hated MR, but that's a long story.

Awsome-o—oh. Ok.