AN: Here we go again. I don't own anything. Not even a rock wall that doesn't spew lava.

Camp Life Chapter Two

Tuesdays Suck/Shadow Traveling Blues

"Okay, punks! Here's the deal! You get up to the top in half an hour, and you're done for today! No archery class, no sculpting- those are for wimps, anyway! You can go do whatever it is you miserable mouth breathers do with your pathetic excuses for lives!"

Jesse is really starting to hate Tuesdays at Camp Half-Blood. Which is kind of sad, since it's only ten o'clock on the first one. But to be fair, he woke up to find that his new brothers, Connor and Travis (Apparently known far and wide as the Deadly Duo, though Jesse has only their word for that) had drawn cat whiskers, a Hitler 'stache, a few sharpie zits, and some rather nasty swear words in Ancient Greek all over his face while he was sleeping. His bunkmates had already warned him to watch out, but it was that kind of way where they already knew he was going to get pranked, they just wanted to make sure they had said something beforehand so he couldn't blame them for not warning him.

Then Jesse sat down at breakfast all ready for a nice big Southern meal- biscuits and gravy, oh yeah- but before he can take his first bite, some kids at the Ares table behind him apparently decide that if they can't defeat Percy Jackson (the nice Sword Guy who saved Jess's ass two days ago) in the arena, they can sure try defeating him in the mess hall. With flying waffles and scrambled egg catapults and a few odd knives and forks. And guess what!

The Hermes table is right between the Ares and Poseidon tables.

At least when it's over, Amanda comes and helps him get the egg out of his hair, and threatens the remaining Ares kids (I'll put my foot right up your ass, big boy, see if I don't! Now scram! All y'all!), and Percy apologizes for the sausage patty to the face (Seriously, man, I'm sorry- want my bacon? It's not blue cause it's diseased, don't worry . . . ), but it's still kind of not how Jesse wanted the day to start.

But on top of all that, he just learned he's going to have Clarisse every Tuesday morning for training. And judging from the first five minutes, it's going to be hell. Her teaching method (which, as far as he can tell, basically involves yelling at them a lot, then threatening them a lot) leaves something to be desired.

Truth be told, it really isn't helping that his homicidal teacher is currently framed by two hundred feet of black volcanic rock, seeping molten lava from cracks on its monolithic face. Which wouldn't be that scary if he hadn't just been told he's expected to climb it.

"Tuesdays suck," Jesse says aloud.

Next to him, his climbing partner, Nyssa, a dark skinned older girl with arms almost as muscled as those Ares kids, nods glumly.

"You said it," she agrees.

Will is strolling down the path towards the shop buildings- he has an art class to teach, which he hates, because apparently people think children of Apollo are supposed to know how to paint and do artsy shit- when he spots Nico Di Angelo sitting off of the path in the shade of a particularly tall specimen of pine, looking at nothing. Will stops and stares for a moment, because while Nico can be a pretty odd dude sometimes, this is strange, even for him. Demigods are never still like that (unless they're dead, and sometimes not even then). If it isn't the imminent threat of painful death courtesy of a hungry monster, it's the ADHD, or the sleepwalking. So perhaps, Will reasons, Nico actually is dead (The Stoll brothers are running a pool on whether or not he's been dead this entire time, although several daughters of Hecate have told anyone who will listen that he is very much alive, and they definitive proof. Will shudders to think what that might mean), or else something is very wrong.

So Will steps up to Nico, a bit nervously, and sort of waves his hand in front of the son of Hades' face, clears his throat and says, "Bro, are you alive?"

Nico blinks slowly, looks up at him and says, "Huh?"

"Are you ok? You were like . . . passed out. Or dead. Or something."

"Oh . . ." Nico stretches noisily, joints creaking and popping. "I was just practicing."

"Um . . . practicing what? Sleeping with your eyes open?"

"Uh, no. Look- what do you know about shadow traveling?"

Will frowns and searches his brain, but he's pretty sure he has no idea what that means, and says so.

"Okay, it's like- basically, I can travel in the shadows-" Nico gesticulates towards the shadows under the pine boughs- "and go anywhere where there are shadows. I mean, not just anywhere, but pretty much-"

Will holds up his hands, stopping the flow of Nico's words.

"Dude," he says, voice laced with disbelief, "Are you telling me you can teleport?"

"Um . . . sure. Let's go with that." Nico shakes his head. "The point is, I was trying to do this whole new entrance thing, like with skeletons and black fire and shit like that, because before I just kind of popped out of a shadow and stuff, which isn't really that impressive . . ."

"Not really that impressive? All I can do is sing! And dance! And maybe heal people a little bit, if my dad is feeling particularly receptive at the given moment!"

"But that's my freaking point!" Nico explodes, jumping up and down. "You children of Apollo get all the cool shit that makes girls think your all hot shit and stuff! I can't sing, or play guitar, or dance! All I can do is shadow travel and raise skeletons and go to the Underworld! Girls don't care about that stuff! Only the creepy ones!"

Will blinks and absorbs that for a moment. Nico stops jumping because he figures it probably makes him look like an idiot. Or unstable. Or both.

"So," Will begins after a moment, looking uncertain, "all you really want . . . is to impress girls? Or whatever? That's it?"

Nico frowns and looks at his black Vans.

"Well . . . yeah," he mutters. "I guess."

An enormous grin spreads across Will's face.

"Dude, why didn't you just say that? I can help you! I can totally get you a girl that doesn't want you to take her to a graveyard or some weird fucked-up shit like that!"

An expression of hope dawns on Nico's face.

"Can you really?"

"Of course! You're talking to the guy who managed to date Drew Tilly from Aphrodite Cabin for two weeks! I'm like an expert!"

He pauses for a moment. "Although," he says thoughtfully, "that whole dramatic I'm-a-badass-son-of-the-Death-God entrance thing wouldn't hurt, if you ask me."

Nico scowls for a moment.

"He's not the Death God. He's the God of the Underworld."

"Same difference."

"Not really . . . you know what, forget it. Do you want me to show you? I think I've got it nailed down now."

"Really? Yeah, dude!"

Nico smirks suddenly.

"Actually," he says, an evil glint in his eyes, "I can do better than just show you. C'mere for a second."

Percy is laying in the shade reading The Illiad when he sees that little kid with the twangy accent- Jesse, he remembers- trudging up the hill, pressing an ice pack to his right arm.

He's only reading (or trying to) because Annabeth says that even though he's defeated Kronos and he's practically invincible and can kill most monsters with a quick slash from Riptide, he mustn't get complacent because there's always something scarier and stronger out there, and reading the Greek Myths is a great place to start. Also, it's always a good idea to be on Annabeth's good side. The incredibly awesome make-out sessions under the lake tend to dry up, no pun intended, when she thinks he's being lazy.

And so it would be great if he could actually read without the letters floating off the page and doing corkscrews and trying to mess with his sanity. But he can't, and so he regards the young son of Hermes approaching him with great relief.

"Hey man!" Percy calls out, waving at a thoroughly miserable looking Jesse.

"Oh dude," the older boy says when Jesse gets closer, "you look like you got trampled by a herd of horses or something!"

And it's true; Jesse is sporting bruises all up and down his arms and legs, burned hands and feet, and he has a bit of blood still dribbling from his scalp.

"It wasn't a horse," says Jesse darkly, sitting down gingerly next to Percy, "it was a boar."

"Ah. Clarisse?"

"Yep. She's like . . . Staff Sergeant Evil McDouchebag."

Percy snickers, then adds, "Yeah, but she's really not too bad. Once you get to know her, I mean."

"I'd like to get to know her with my own electric spear," Jesse growls, then brightens. "Speaking of which-"

Percy laughs. "Yeah, I'm not sure if we have any more electric spears, but we'll see what we can get you."

Jesse beams. "Awesome."

"And then he sort of nibbled my ear, like this-, and put his hand here, like this-"

"Ye gods! Just stop it! Fine! He's alive! You win! Just take the money and go! Forever!"

The girl from Hecate cabin beams, her snakebite piercings making her mouth do odd things when she smiles like that, and rakes in the pile of drachmas on the table in between her and Connor and Travis Stoll, then departs, humming happily to herself.

Travis and Connor stare after her for a moment, then slowly turn to look at each other, their faces horrorstruck.

"Isn't he only, like, fourteen?"

"Yeah . . . it must be that whole Death God thing. That bad boy look probably sends them flocking from miles around and all that shit."

There is a long pause.

". . . You know what? I'm gonna go talk to Katie. Before that cursed, evil Justin Bieber punk clone gets his skeletal hands on her."

Connor seems to wake from his stupor.

"Really? This I've got to see."

At the Camp Armory, Percy introduces Jesse to Steven, a tall, sandy-haired kid with a slightly manic look in his eyes.

The son of Aeolus (The King of the Winds, which makes me a Prince! Got that?) gives Jesse a long, critical stare, walking around him and hmming occasionally. Percy winks at Jesse, but Jesse already knows Steven (and shouldn't the camp's weapons expert be a child of Ares?) is going to recommend something lame. He's a skinny thirteen year-old who isn't even five feet tall yet. He's going to get like a croquet mallet or something.

So he's a little surprised when Steven straightens up and says, "Not too bad, I suppose. How about one of these, kid?" he adds eagerly, producing a massive claymore from out of a barrel containing hundreds of swords.

Jesse stares. The blade is longer than he is tall.

"Yeah? No? No, huh? Well, that's fine, that's fine, gotta get a good first weapon, I know how it is with kids these days . . ."

Jesse frowns. Steven can't be older than seventeen. He catches Percy rolling his eyes from the doorway he's leaning on, and Jesse grins slightly.

"Hmm . . . Ah ha! Howzabout this bad girl? Ain't no kids on the playground gonna be giving you lip if you've got this!"

Steven reemerges from behind a corner carrying a Rocket-Propelled Grenade Launcher.

"Um . . . I don't think that's really my . . . style."

Steven raises an eye brow. "Oh?" he says happily, "A tricky customer! Well! Let me see what I can do . . ."

He disappears again into the racks of war implements. Jesse frowns.

"Is he-"

"Insane? Nah. Just likes blowing stuff up, that's all. Don't worry, he'll get you something good."

The Weapons Master returns with a fearsome Japanese katana sword, a Revolutionary War- era cavalry saber, an American M4 Carbine Assault Rifle (complete with desert camouflage and magazines filled with celestial bronze bullets), and an awesome wrist knife contraption that he totally lets Jesse try out on the convenient practice manakin set up against the wall.

"So, that's what you got? After all that?" Amanda demands, examining the curved short sword with a critical eye. "I mean, it's cool and all . . . looks like something a pirate would carry. But I would have totally gotten that club that sets stuff on fire."

They are sitting down for lunch in the pavilion. Jesse is a bit nervous that Amanda is sitting at the Hermes table next to him, but no one seems to mind, and Chiron, eating his fruit salad and chatting with Mr. D, seems not to have noticed.

"It's not that bad. I told you, you made a good choice, dude."

Jesse and Amanda look up in surprise, and Percy winks in return and drops into the seat across from them, his plate instantly filling with blue-tinged Ravioli. Annabeth sits down next to him and smiles at Jesse.

"It is a nice weapon," she says reassuringly. "A good, smart, simple choice- after all, you are just a beginner." Annabeth's plate produces a salad and ham sandwich, and she takes a bite before adding, "I saw you guys climbing the wall this morning. Did you make Clarisse's challenge?"

Jesse sighs. "Nope. She threw her spear at me."

Annabeth grins understandingly. "Yeah, she does tha-"

But before she can finish her sentence, a loud fwoosh echoes throughout the pavilion, and black smoke roils around the tables. Four skeletons dressed as Roman gladiators rise from the ground and begin banging their swords on their shields. From between the Hermes and Ares tables, Nico Di Angelo and Will Solace appear from nowhere, posing majestically.

Just as the Hecate table starts applauding wildly, Will trips and falls, decidedly ruining the effect. Nico, his arms still spread in a commanding pose, looks down and glares at him.

"Dude! Get up! You're totally ruining the effect!"

"Um," Will begins, "I would, but you see-"

Will is suddenly yanked upward by Clarisse LaRue's hand around his throat. Her eyes burn holes out the back of his skull. "Solace," she growls, "I think you just broke Maimer. With your big, clumsy feet."

Will manages to choke out, "No, No, I swear-"

Nico quickly turns to make his escape, only to come face to face with a vision of terrifying fury.

"What? No! Not you again-"

Amanda grabs him by the collar and pulls him towards her until they are inches apart.

"Your skeleton stepped in my lunch," she hisses, her face alight with rage. "I. Was. Hungry."

Connor and Travis watch as Amanda and Clarisse drag their victims out towards the lake, ignoring Chiron's half-hearted protests and Mr. D's cackling.

"Travis."

"Hmm?"

"I just thought of a brilliant plan."

"Is it the one where we tell Grover that cheese enchiladas are misnamed and they have meat in them? 'Cause Percy found out last time. And he told Annabeth, which was just plain mean, but- well, you know what will happen if we try that again. No way, bro."

"No, it's got nothing to do with that. I think I know a way to get our money back. From Bonehead's fan club, I mean."

"Oh. Oh?"

"Yeah. New Kid- he's friends with that scary chick, right? The one who just dragged a child of the Big Three kicking and screaming out of this joint?"

"Yeesss . . . I don't see where you're - oh. Wait. I think I got it."

Connor smiles wickedly. "Oh yes, dear brother. I think we shall call it . . . Operation Enforcer."

"The Deadly Duo strikes again."

"Indeed, indeed."

A/N: Weeelll there 'tis. Tell me if you liked it.