Prompt from Sonofthetrigod: Ninjas, banana men, and bicycles; and "Nico, you're not a samurai!"

"It was a normal day. People walked along the streets of New York with no idea what was in store."

Thunderous drums play in the background of cars passing and horn's blaring.

"They had all heard the legend, at one time in their lives. But none ever dared believed what they heard was true."

The drums grew closer, and louder, with each word.

"Because they knew, oh they knew deep down, that if they stories were true, that their ordinary lives would change forever."

With a crash of dozens of drums being hit at the same time, the deeply-spoken words stopped. There was silence. Then–

Screams.

Screams with the background sound of wheels on concrete– not the rumble of car wheels, but lighter and skimming the asphalt. Dozens of bicycles rode through the New York traffic, although the sounds of the cars had stopped– almost as if someone had stopped all the car activity in the surrounding four blocks.

The wheels stopped, with the quietest sound of skidding imaginable. Collectively, it was as loud as one bicycle had skidded, and the voice came back– not booming as before, not as foreboding, but terror-stricken into an almost-whisper.

"They're here."

Footsteps– dozens of footsteps, lightly, not overridden by voices or pedestrian traffic– almost as if someone had knocked out the surrounding block. They echoed throughout the silence, skimming over the filthy sidewalks. As quickly as their rapid, quiet footsteps had started–

They stopped.

There were still quiet sounds of movement: a rustling as if through a bin, or a cart, or a vendor's stall.

Which, of course, only made the voice draw a frightened breath, and say, in the quietest but still audible voice he could muster, "The Banana Men."

Faintly the drums beat twice; echoed, almost, were two beats.

Then there was a cry.

It was a combination of a thousand attack cries, mixed with fury and arrogance and knowledge.

The rustling that came from the sides stopped; a faint thud resounded as whoever was making the battle cry landed, and there was a faint whisper throughout, only loud enough to catch every other word.

Ninja. Again. Matched. Vengeance.

Silence.

Then the sounds of a dozen people charging as one.

A growing yell was coming from the chargers. It gradually was reaching a shriek– there was no doubt of what they were capable of– they–

"When did I allow movies to be made in my cabin?!"

All the sounds of the charging banana men and the faint drumbeats stopped.

"But Thalia, it was so dark and gloomy and empty that we decided it would be perfect for this liiiittle project."

"I don't care, Grover; wouldn't Nico's cabin have been better? Wouldn't that be dark and gloomy enough?"

"Well, we didn't want to scare them–"

"Oh, but you felt confident enough to piss me off?"

Pff. "I have a sword. You can't generate lightning in here, or else you'd blow it up!"

"Nico, you're not a samurai! And even if you were–"

"Oh, I'm aware that I'm not a samurai."

"Well, you know, good, because even if you were you wouldn't be able to–"

"I'm a pirate!"

"I– uh, you–" There was an exasperated sigh. "Have fun with that."

"Oh, thanks, you know I will actually–"

"Now get out of my cabin!"

Sorry for not updating for so long! I've been at school for officially three weeks, and, well, it's high school, and that's basically all I can say. I hope I can update waaaay more frequently than every three weeks (try every weekend), so hang in there! Thanks to all of you than have reviewed and left prompts! I will get to them, even if it takes a week or two. Thanks, again, and I hope this chapter was entertaining (and weird) enough for you guys!