Chapitre 6
23th May 2006, at night
Sally blinked as she appeared in her kitchen. Except that the kitchen had been completely redone. And it was amazing! And that she shouldn't have been in her kitchen, but skewered by a Minotaur.
"Percy!" cried Sally. What had happened to her son?
"AAAAAAAHHHHH."
A scream interrupted her, and she looked around the rest of the kitchen.
Gabe, that old pig, was crucified to one of the walls. Sally sighed. Not only did he stink, he screamed loudly. And it was going to be her job to clean up again...Fucking pig.
"AAAAHHHH"
Gabe screamed again, as the stranger in fetish clothes standing in the middle of the kitchen gave her another lash.
"Excuse me?" asked Sally. She wasn't quite sure why she found the scene quite normal. Perhaps she had used up all her adrenaline reserves against the Minotaur? Or perhaps, subconsciously, she considered that anyone who mistreated Gabe was probably an angel.
The stranger turned around. She was a bombshell, rocking sunglasses that screamed mystery and sex appeal. Forget hair—her head was a party for a bunch of serpents. Dressed in a skin-tight black latex jumpsuit, it clung to her curves like a clingy ex. The outfit was so sexy, even the serpents blushed.
"Ahh, you must be Sally. Dio told me about you".
Sally scratched her head.
"Dio ? So it's not Poseidon that send you".
The snake-haired woman burst out laughing.
"Gods, No! I haven't spoken to him since he gave me the whip. He's never been very kind to women.
A flicker of realisation passed through Sally's eyes. The Gorgon!
"And best of all, I've found a much better fucker since then! Daddy Dio! But for all our differences with Popo, I wasn't about to let a woman suffer for her son at the hands of a fat pig! You rock, girl!".
She gave the fat man another lash.
"And what's more, Popo is going to owe Daddy Dio and me one hell of a favour. Save his son and save his mistress... Ah, that! Since he's never able to save his mistresses himself."
Sally blinked.
"But...Aren't you supposed to be a monster? And eat me? Or something like that, I'm not very familiar with the usual scenarios!".
Medusa groaned in pleasure as she gave another lash.
"Of course not, darling! I'm not a monster, I'm a sadomasochist! That's nothing to do with it!"
24th May 2006, afternoon.
Percy wasn't sure how to react when his savior, the one who had killed the bull man with the flamingo, appeared before him.
He looked a bit like a cheap cereal mascot, although Percy would never have dared tell him that. He was tall, bearded and muscular. On the other hand, the guy was clearly a god. Those muscles? Those pecs? That Chadness?
"Uhhhh. Hello ? And thanks, I guess!".
Annabeth, who'd been bowing, stood up to smack him in the back of the head. "Monsieur D is a god! Bow down!".
Stupidly following instructions - he didn't really understand what was going on - Percy bowed.
"Stand up, my young friends!", said the god in his booming voice.
The god grabbed one of the satyrs passing by and slammed him on the group with a supplex.
Annabeth, unperturbed, acted as if nothing had happened.
"My little Perry... Can I call you Perry? Platypus is a sea animal, after all".
Percy refrained from correcting him. Why was he talking about sea animals?
"Anyway, Perry boy. You owe me one. Well, your ol' man owes me one. Well, two - I also saved your mother.
Percy jumped at this.
"My mother?".
Dio turned the floor into a trampoline, and began to bounce.
"Yep. Saved her from the Minotaur, sent her back to you. Oh, and I redid the kitchen too, while I was at it. It's a sacrilege that a woman who cooks so well should have crappy equipment. And while I was at it, one of my super-secret agents that everyone doesn't know exists - well, everyone must know by now, seeing as your Father's still stalking your mother... Anyway, no more Gabby! Tortured and poof, to hell".
Percy wasn't sure how to react. After a second's deliberation, he chose joy.
"Yay!"
What?! Don't judge him! No more Gabe and better cookies? And his mother saved!?
"I can't thank you enough...What can I do for you...Wait? You know who my father is?"
Dionysus missed one of his jumps, and the trampoline springs snapped. The god found his head stuck in the ceiling.
"Yep! But I mustn't spoil the surprise. Or the moment of the claiming! These moments have enormous symbolic power...and you'll need strength!"
"What do you mean?"
"Aaaah...I'll let Chiron explain. After your claiming. But basically, you're in deep shit, and maybe you're going to die. But whatever - it's snack time! Come on, Chooh, Chooh...".
And Percy disappeared to reappear beside Annabeth in front of the refectory.
Was he going to die? Meh. At least he'd have a snack first.
24th May 2006, afternoon.
Thoas lit a cigarette in front of the tower of Dionysus. The god had disappeared when they had regained consciousness - and they had had to struggle to understand how their new blessing worked. Fortunately, between Romain's intelligence, Silène's wisdom and the intuitive nature of the System, they had figured it out fairly quickly.
Thoas clicked on the floating screen.
Thanks to the blessing of Dionysus, you can more easily become who you are. To do so, complete the tasks given by the system. You are currently on level 27. A divine blessing is strong but far from omnipotent: as a hero, the son of an Olympian, you can reach level 100 at most. To raise the bar, you need to become immortal, ascend or... totally become yourself.
What was that supposed to mean?
Thoas took another drag. At least he was level 27, and still had a lot of space to grow.
Blowing out his smoke, he remembered what had appeared above the heads of Romain, Silène and Rockoon.
Romain
Jack of Hearts
Novice Artiste and Member of the Club
Lvl : 19/100
Silenus
Jack of Clubs
First Satyr and Member of the Club
Lvl : 113/125
?
One of the Jokers
Old Alcoholic and Member of the Club
Lvl 445/500
Damn. A Fucking Hobo was stronger than him.
He had to do some of these quests.
But first, a little drink.
"Hey, Romain ! I saw this bar…"
6th June 2006, HalfBlood Camp
"Allez hop! And now we're dancing!"
And the tramp collapsed to the floor. He took a flask of whisky out of his pocket and started drinking as if nothing had happened. And to think Luke had thought Dionysus was improving the camp... All he was doing was giving them an alcoholic bum for a master-at-arms.
All the campers looked at each other in disappointment - apart from Castor and Pollux, who started breakdancing with enthusiasm. It had been three days since this 'Rockoon' had arrived, and he hadn't taught them anything useful. But the campers had far too much respect for Dionsyos - for what he had done - and fear for him - for what he was - to make any comment.
Until Clarisse snapped.
"Hey, fatso! Don't you want to teach us how to fight?! That is, if you can. You're supposed to be training us, dammit!"
The alcoholic tramp projectile vomited on the floor and groggily sat up. "Huh? What's this pest want now?"
Clarisse, red-faced and seething, gripped her spear with both hands. Luke, a tad annoyed with Rockoon, decided to play spectator. This brawl was an opportunity either to expose the old drunkard as a lousy master-at-arms or, on the off chance he won, perhaps impart a move or two. Plus, Luke could gauge the old man's strength for the titan army. And, if by some miracle, he kicked Clarisse's butt, that would be a sweet bonus.
The tension escalated as the old man reached into his pocket... and pulled out a freaking raccoon, placing it on his head. What in the world? Then he dug into another pocket, extracting two bowling pins, brandishing them like swords.
"Alrighty then... If my lessons aren't your thing, time to switch things up! Nitoryuu... Grab your weapons, you bunch of misfits."
The raccoon seized two strands of the old man's hair in its tiny paws, puppeteering him like in ratatouille. In a flurry of speed, he effortlessly knocked out three inattentive campers with a single keel strike.
"Ahaha! I love pummeling bratty kids!"
"AAAAAAH." Clarisse charged, but the old man executed three unnecessary somersaults in the air before plopping back in front of Ares's daughter... and vomiting in her eyes.
"Aha! Can't see now! What's your move, huh?" and he keeled over into her stomach.
"AAAAAAH IT BURNS!"
"Ehe... Should've danced; it wouldn't have happened like that!"
Then he casually sent a skittle flying, clocking one of Clarisse's brothers five meters away.
Luke ground his teeth. This looked like the start of the toughest, weirdest brawl of his life.
10th June 2006
The last two weeks had been busy for Percy, to say the least. But Percy was quite happy. For one thing, he wasn't dead. Yay! Secondly, he'd made a great friend - Annabeth. It was one of the first times he'd made a friend - Grover didn't count, since apparently it was literally his job to be mates with Percy. And he was paid for it. Anyway, the Satyr had been kidnapped in front of his eyes by other goat-men with mobster looks, who were going to "teach him what it was like to be a real Satyr" - or something like that. And his new friend was great! At one point, he had been about to be bullied by a blonde chick, Kaaris or something, but Annabeth had protected him - well, she'd thrown a raccoon plush at the blonde, and she'd started screaming and running away. Weird trauma, but who was he to judge. He'd seen stranger things. The god of madness was the camp director, after all. Thirdly, he'd learnt a lot of tricks (except archery. He'd nearly killed Mr Brunner, who was behind him when he shot), like sword fighting... and... sword fighting? OK, he hadn't learnt much, but now he knew how to sword-fight. He was even good, according to one of the older campers, Luke - whom Rockoon called Secret Sasuke, for some reason.
And apparently, the week ahead was going to be even busier! It was the first Dionysia, it seemed. A week of shows and competitions, culminating in a gigantic party. Yesterday, he'd gone to see a show put on by the cabins of Apollo and Dionysus - and it was incredible! The Apollo cabin had done the chorus, and the Hephaistus cabin had taken a break from erecting the defensive walls around the camp - he wasn't sure why they were needed, given that there was a force field - to help with the sets. And they had re-enacted Medea! Percy didn't understand the whole story, but he certainly enjoyed it! To the delight of the actors, Dionysus himself had come to see the show! And he even congratulated them! That god was dope!
But if Percy was pleased, it was mainly because of the event of the day: the duels. In the camp's small Colosseum, the construction of which had been completed yesterday - just in time - the heroes would face off one by one in front of the cheering crowd! He was a little apprehensive - he'd signed up on the advice of Luke, who'd assured him he had a gift with the sword. And Mr Brunner - well, Chiron, had even lent him Anaklumos again, the super-balanced sword with which he'd killed his maths teacher. But he was eleven...and dueling teenagers four or five years his senior? Including the formidable Kaaris? With her big spear? It sent a chill down his spine.
"Competitors please come and draw a number...
In all, nearly sixty demigods had decided to try their luck - "for glory", apparently, or to be noticed by their parents. Percy had noticed that many had daddy - or mommy - issues. Plunging his hand into the large bowl, he drew out number 13. Uh. He hoped it wasn't a bad omen. However, it was impossible to know the running order - or even his opponent. Once again, Rockoon was drunk as a skunk, calling pairs at random, in no apparent order.
"Uuh...Number 13 and...Hic...You!" He pointed to another hero. Okay, Rockoon had even given up on the idea of using numbers and drawing lots.
Trotting out of the competitors' room, Percy entered the arena to the exclamations of the cheering crowd. Percy suspected that their high spirits had little to do with him, and more to do with the cans of redbull that Dionysos had distributed free of charge. He'd even heard that some Hermes kids had illegally brought alcohol into the camp - and it certainly wasn't Dionysos who was going to punish them.
"ON MY RIGHT, THE NOT AT ALL FAMOUS PERCY JACKSON" shouted the Satyr in charge of the commentaries, a certain Hodge, who also appeared to be completely drunk. Percy wasn't famous at all. "ON MY LEFT...WE DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"
The crowd cheered. Huh. It was definitely the alcohol.
Percy shrugged and, at the signal, ran towards Random Demigod 54. The clash of swords echoed through the arena as Percy faced off against his opponent with an easy grin. The demigod on the other side fought with determination, but Percy moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior. Which surprised the his opponent, because, well, Percy was supposed to be a wet-behind-the ears demigod. Their swords collided in a dazzling display of sparks, and Percy's swift movements seemed almost choreographed. The crowd, now thoroughly entertained, erupted in cheers and laughter at Percy's quips and acrobatic maneuvers.
"You fight like a Cyclops with a blindfold!" Percy teased, sidestepping a particularly ambitious swing from his opponent. Nobody laughed, and some of the spectators booed - it wasn't a great pun.
"Ahah, you suck!", mocked his opponent. Percy, seizing the moment, executed a series of rapid strikes that left his opponent disarmed and stumbling.
As Percy stood victorious, his sword pointed at the fallen demigod in a salute, the crowd's cheers reached a crescendo. Hodge, bumbled through the announcement. "AND THE WINNER IS... PERCY! THE NOVICE SWORDSWOMAN AND WORST ARCHER OF THE CAMP! AND HE SMELLS BAD, APPARENTLY! "
"Hey! Who told you that? And the showers are cold in Hermes Cabin"
Dionysos drank another sip of "Virgin Mojito - Dio version". It came from a barrel that a then-virgin barmaid had brewed for him yesterday. Mmm. New concept. Cyprine mojito. Conceptually, he thought it was h a good idea, but the taste clearly wasn't good. Hodge's voice interrupted his musings.
"LUKE, SON OF HERMES WINS THIS QUARTER-FINAL! IN THE NEXT ROUND, HE WILL FACE THE FORMIDABLE DAUGHTER OF ARES, THE BLONDE, THE UGLY, THE HIDEOUS CLAIRSSE!"
The daughter of Ares, waiting in a corner of the arena, wagged her middle finger at the Satyr. If she hadn't needed her spear in the next fight, she'd probably have thrown it outright in an attempt to impale him.
"AND FOR THE PENULTIMATE QUARTER-FINAL, DRUM ROLL...PERCY JACKSON THE -ONE-WHO-STINKS VERSUS POLLUX MINICHAD, SON OF GIGACHAD!".
Dionysus straightened in his seat. His youngest son, Pollux, had surprised him more than once. Mixing the two formidable arts of Disco and Baseball, he'd reached the quarter-finals after winning his first two bouts by knocking out his opponents with a coarse branch he'd found who knows where.
Pollux struck a strange pose, and began to speak to Percy: "Yare Yare Daze."
Dionysus was proud of his son.
Percy was less eloquent:"AAAAAAAHHHHH", e shouted as he lunged at his opponent.
But that was without counting on Dionysos' plans, who had planned to make the fights a little more challenging from the semi-finals onwards - or a little earlier if he was already getting bored. Which was about now.
"Diooooooooo", he stood up and shouted, frightening all the campers, discreetly sending a signal to the Satyr stage manager who pressed a button, releasing two Hellhounds into the middle of the arena.
The two demigods, surprised - well, Percy was surprised and Pollux was drunk - stopped fighting and stood back to back to deal with the monsters.
"YARE YARE DAZE," howled Pollux, bringing his branch down on the snout of one of the dogs. The dog, thinking that little fatty with the branch would probably give him a hangover, decided to go and try to eat Percy instead. This turned out to be a bad decision, as he ended up skewered by the demigod's sword.
As Percy killed the hellhound, Dionysus sighed. Surely Poseidon's sense of theatricality was going to suck again.
A gasp went through the crowd as a trident materialized above Percy.
You bet. Fucking amateurs.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE", Dio shouted, and the stage manager freed five hellhound in the stands.
Ehe.
Training hero is surprisingly fun, he thought, hearing the screams of the campers.