Yo. Wats up?

Here is the third camper. Enjoy it. (You better, punk!)

(You can tell I'm going for the gangster-greeting today. I mean no real offence.)

Thomas

Thomas was a third generation descendant from Mars. That put him in the third cohort. He always thought of the cohorts in colours; first was gold, second was red, the fourth was green and fifth was purple. The third one—his—was blue. Thomas's favourite colour was blue. Or red, the colour of blood, but that was the second cohort. He didn't live in the second cohort.

Speaking of cohorts…

There were so many of them in this place! In fact, several of them only had one kid residing inside, some even completely empty. Those separated kids who were one of a kind must feel lonely all the time.

Well, he certainly wasn't—Thomas had an entire cabin full of siblings. When he entered the first day, it was pure chaos. Kids beating up other kids, sword fighting on beds lying diagonally against the side of the building, and weapons hanging against the wall like plaques but without the glass case. If that fell on someone while they slept…

For the first few seconds, no one noticed him. Then some guy yelled out, "Hey, newbie!"

Everyone fell silent and stopped what they were doing. One girl separated herself from the group and walked up to Thomas, standing right in his face. She was probably one of the oldest there at twenty-one, perhaps less. She was the biggest, toughest, and most intimidating woman Thomas had ever seen. Well, after his mother. (Now, that was a lady you didn't want to mess with.)

"What's your name?" she eventually asked after an inspection. She clearly approved the buzz-cut and muscles.

"Thomas," he replied simply.

"Well then, Tommy, welcome to your new home," said the woman. "First rule; don't mess with me. Second rule; don't mess with any of us. Don't talk, don't acknowledge, and don't even look at us until you've proved your worth. Understood?"

Instead of replying with a jeering remark, Thomas walked over to one of the swords that rested tilted against the wall and grabbed it by the handle. He held it up, dropping his bags on the floor near the door.

Everyone who had crowded around to watch took a respectful step back. No one challenged Clarrise and got away without a few missing limbs.

But instead, the girl just laughed. "This kid's got some nerve," she decided. "Stupid, fatal nerve, but nerve nonetheless." She grabbed her own random sword from the racks. "Let's see what you got, punk," she said, advancing with her sword held out in front of her.

Thomas suddenly realized what he was about to do. Everyone was afraid of this girl. He was probably about to pay for messing with her. Maybe if she liked him as much as she said she did she wouldn't be tempted to kill him. Should he call quits?

Snap out of it! he scolded himself. You're Roman. Romans never back out of a fight.

With that final thought, Thomas charged.

And that is why we now only have four Roman campers, as Thomas was beaten to death by Clarrise. *smiley-face*

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BookFreak: Dang it, you're right. Give me a moment to think about this... ...hmm... How about Nico is on some underworld trip so he doesn't know what's going on in either camp! Eh? Eh? (Give me another day or two, I'll figure something out.)

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Review, you guys! We're nearing two hundred! If we get two hundred, I'll dedicate a chapter to the two hundredth reviewer, and MAYBE I MAY take another request chapter. :)