Soldier Boy
War Journal, June 22, 1999
Managed to successfully escort the refugees to safety. Sustained several injuries in the process, but a trivial price to pay for their safety. Finally reached the camp and will be starting training again soon. Turns out the girl who was being targeted has an older brother. He seems amiable enough but he's somehow different from the rest. Can't put my finger on how though.
George would wake up a few days later. He sat up from the bed and looked around. He found a blonde girl walking over to him. "Well, well sleeping beauty awakes." She said sitting down beside him, " your friends were starting to think you intended to sleep forever."
George shook his head, "It'll take more than a couple of Furies to kill me." He looked her over, "Though you look too young to be playing nurse."
"Remy Adams, my father is Apollo so we're natural healers." She said casually as she placed the back of her hand on his head, "No fever, so you should be ready to go as soon as we take the bandages off."
The mention of bandages caused a sudden itch on the right of his face so George to put a hand on his face to rub it. When he did he found the right side of his face was bandaged. Frowning he closed his left eye and found his world was now black.
"Here," Remy reached for him, "it should be healed by now, more or less."
The girl carefully unraveled his bandaged until it touched his skin and finally it came off completely. George's fears were confirmed. His vision on his right side was now gone. Touching his own face gently his fingers traced a scar that started from his right temple and through a now empty eye socket crossed his nose and ended under his left cheekbone. Another scar ran from the corner of his mouth to the intertragic notch on his ear. A third scar ran from his right cheekbone to the bottom edge of his right nostril.
He frowned and looked around looking for something. "I came here with a girl, black hair, blue eyes, bossy disposition."
"I think you mean Thalia," Remy replied, "She woke up a few days before you."
"And she's okay?" George asked. When Remy nodded, George sighed and smiled to himself, 'Mission...Accomplished.' He touched his right side again, "but this...this is going to make fighting difficult. Difficult, but fortunately not impossible."
He then noted his left arm, which was now bore burn scars, he flexed his fingers and twisted his joints before giving a few sharp thrusts and sighed in relief to know that the ambrosia had helped him retain full use of his limb with no signs of contractures.
He got up and retrieved his backpack and duffle bag which were on his bedside. He began to take inventory to make sure everything was all there, and nobody robbed him while he was out. Once he confirmed that everything was in place, George stood up and strapped his swords to his waist. As he did this a red light appeared over him followed by two bloody swords crossed.
"Hey George!"
George turned and saw Luke jogging over to him, "hey Luke, what brings you to the medical wing?"
"I heard you had awakened I wanted to come by to see how you were doing." Luke cocked his head to the right and sighed, "and it seems your injuries are as bad as I expected."
George nodded, "I appreciate it, but the important thing is Thalia was safe."
"Yes," Luke agreed softly, "she is." Then unexpectedly Luke hugged him, taking George off guard. So, he returned Luke's hug with a pat on the back. "Thank you," his voice shuddered, "thank you for saving her."
They broke off and Luke straightened up. "Come, I'll escort you to your cabin. It's the least I can do."
George shrugged, "if you wish."
As Luke led him to the cabins, he eyed the arena with great interest, when Luke told him the nearby forest was full of monsters, he nearly got giddy. Between the arena and the forest, he would have all the time he needed to practice and train. Once they reached the Cabin area, they were greeted by a familiar face. "George," Thalia ran up to them, "they told me you finally awoke. How are you doing?"
"I'm still among the livin'." George replied nonchalantly.
Thalia nodded, "That's good to hear. Look I just came over to say...thanks for helping me."
George smirked, though with his new scar it was now wider than normal. "Let's not do it again though, I only got one eye left." He winked with his remaining eye.
Thaila's smile became sad, "I'll certainly try, though if you had gone along with Luke and Ennabeth this wouldn't have happened."
George frowned and shook his head, "mother would have been disappointed in me if I had left a child behind to the mercy of those sadists."
Thalia cocked an eyebrow, "who are you calling a child? If I recall you're two years younger than me."
"I haven't been a child since I was 8," George said solemnly.
That took the girl aback and before replying, "well, let's see if we can change that." With that she headed off do find Annabeth.
Moving on, the two boys headed for the cabin painted red with a boar's head over the door. Rock music was blaring at a deafening volume came from within. George winced the only rock music he was familiar with were the likes of Elvis Presley and Jimi Hendrix. What was playing wasn't bad but, did it have to be so loud?
Inside the cabin were a dozen or so of the roughest looking bunch he had ever seen. One that would make a local street gang look like a pack of ninnys. Even the girls had a rough and mean appearance to them.
"Lemme guess," The one at the door said looking him over, "you the newbie."
"Evidently," George replied sizing him up.
The boy turned around and George followed him inside, the other kids stopped what they were doing and glared at George, sizing him up. George returned the glares as he rested his left hand on his kopis. 'Go on,' he though in challenge, 'try something.'
"Oy Brock," he called, "we got a live one here."
Brock, obviously the leader stood up and came forward, a big and muscular boy with a scarred face and camo pants. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked down at him with a glare. George's face remained impassive as he met Brock's stare. After a moment, Brock chuckled and ruffled George's hair. While Brock introduced him to the rest of the cabin
"Welcome to Ares Cabin kid," he said with a grin. As he did the rest of them offered the own greetings with hard slaps to his back. George grunted but refuse to show further signs of distress. Immediately they began asking about his last stand against Hades' Army.
"Did you really tell a Fury to 'get pregnant'?" One asked.
George smirked, "I think I called another a crusty bitch at one point."
"They say you actually killed a cyclops single handed."
"I can't tell if you're brave, stupid or just plain crazy," the first shook his head incredulously.
"Regardless, that kind of nerve is proof that you're one of us." One of the older girls said with a laugh.
"You lost an eye for it." Brock noted gesturing to George's right eye.
George nodded grimly, "fortunately I have a spare, but the loss of depth perception will prove... challenging. Still...a lot of greats have lost and eye, Philip of Macedon and Hannibal Barca to name a few."
Brock smiled, "too true, but for now, I think it's time we gave our new brother a proper initiation."
As he said this, one of the boys closed the door and locked it, as the rest of George's Cabinmates surrounded him. George looked around, sighed and nodded dropping his bags to the ground. "Before we get started," he said clenching his fists, "does anyone wanna back out?"
One of the younger boys tried to kick the back of his leg trying to buckle it. George spun around and punched him right in the nuts causing him to keel over. Another tried to sock him in the face, George dodged this and delivered a kick to the side of her knee followed by an uppercut. One of the older kids got him in a bear hug, George boxed his ears. Another grabbed him from behind George slammed the back of his head into the boy's nose. He was then tackled by Brock and a dogpile followed. However, this caused things to escalate since some were not too keen on being in said dogpile and the situation erupted into an all-out rumble with the entire cabin punching and kicking and making a real mess of things.
George put up as much of a fight as possible, kicking like a horse and biting like a jaguar. But in the end, he was outnumbered and most of the kids there were bigger than him and hardened if undisciplined scrappers. Then there was that small matter of having one eye, so he got several hard knocks to his right side by the end of it, the entire cabin was a pile of laughing bruised and blues.
Brock helped George up and dusted him off, "not bad for a newbie," he said with a chuckle.
"I think you gave me a concussion," George grumbled rubbing his head.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"My mother," George replied, "and my Stepfather."
"Who was your mother?" one of them asked, "some army Brat?"
George shrugged, "close, a marine, my stepfather was a green beret."
Brock laughed and raised his hands, "whoa back up people, we got ourselves a genuine soldier boy."
Exhausted, yet sated, they finally got up and straightened up the place. Or rather the Ares equivalent of tidying up would be. Which is gathering up personal belongings and dumbing them next to their beds. George would be the exception fixing his sheets tight enough to bounce his coins off them. and placing his bags at the foot of his bed.
Afterwards Brock introduced him his new siblings. The hierarchy of Ares cabin seemed to be the embodiment of the philosophy of Might Makes Right. Something that was made clear by Brock and his two main 'goons'. Alongside Brock were Mario De La Torre, and Gregory Pettigrew. They were the oldest, roughest and meanest members of the cabin. Being one of the youngest put him on the lower pedestal. But it was a pedestal he had no intention on remaining in.
Brock then remembered something, "oh before I forget." He went to a trunk and pulled out an orange shirt with a Black Pegasus on the front and the words CAMP HALF-BLOOD written over it. "We're supposed to give you this." He tossed a couple to him, "Camp uniform."
George looked at the shirt, then at Brock with a cocked eyebrow, "Orange?" He asked, "really?"
"It's supposed to resemble our bronze armor." Mario explained.
George scoffed, "more like a brightly colored target for the enemy to see." This got nods from several of his siblings. He looked the shirt over and shrugged, "I guess I can make this work." set the shirts down and peeled off his own, he heard several light gasps as they saw the numerous crisscrossing lashes that adorned his back.
As he put one of the camp shirts on Mario asked, "did those hurt?"
George frowned, "they would have been a waste of time if they didn't."
"H-how, who..." Gregory tried to ask.
"Mom," George said simply as he tucked his shirt in, "and Sensei. But they only did this if I...well...'misbehaved'." His smirked, "to be more specific, if I had your deposition."
Everyone winced at that, he could tell none of their mothers were so harsh, if they were harsh at all. "She sounds cruel." Gregory said finally. rubbing his own back nervously.
George shook his head, "cruel, hardly, hard as nails, definitely. I never got a whipping I didn't earn." He then reached into his bag and rummaged through his extra clothes until he found what he was looking for. An army green military vest that matched his pants, he put it on and zipped it up. He looked himself over and nodded, "there," he thought, "much better."
Brock nodded in approval and George rummaged through his duffle bag again and took out a whetstone. He sat himself down on the porch pulled out his swords and started sharpening them. He didn't stop until the blade was sharp enough to slice through paper. He had just finished with his xiphos when the bell rang indicating time for dinner. They lined up and headed for the dining area. Much like the Cabins, there were 13 large tables with 10 smaller ones surrounding them. The Director's table where Chiron, Dionysus and the Satyrs sat overlooked them all. George was not at all impressed by the director, 'great,' he thought, 'we got Barney Gumble for a supervisor.' He sighed, at least the trainer is a dignified figure.
George had cream soda with barbecue briscut and Texan chili. When the time came to make an offering, he reluctantly surrendered the fattest part of his briscut to the flames, saying the name "Ares," as he did so.
Once everyone was seated the counselor of Zeus cabin, David, stood up with his glass raised, "I would like to make a personal toast to George Grant, who's courage and determination saved my beloved sister's life in the face of impossible odds. Were it not for him she may not be with us right now. For that my friend, you have my eternal gratitude."
Luke and Annabeth were the first to raise their glasses, "to George."
"TO GEORGE," roared Ares Cabin.
"To George," the other demigods followed afterwards.
George raised his hand, "I only did what a True warrior would do," He insisted. "Though you don't need courage to chase off pests."
"Take care George Grant," Chiron warned, "you don't want them to make them angrier with you than they already are."
George nodded respectfully, "Understood sir, but if the three furies wanna fight I'm right here." He grinned, "it'll give me a chance to pay them back with interest, for THIS." He gestured to the scarred side of his face.
"Easy there Ahab," David quipped, "wait before going after your whale, you don't want to lose your life so recklessly."
George frowned and nodded, before sitting down to eat. Afterwards they gathered round the campfire until it was time to go to bed. After setting his things back in his bags and checking to make sure nothing was missing, George went right to sleep knowing that come morning his training would resume.
The days that followed became standard routine for George. He woke up at 05:00 sharp, made his bed, got dressed, and headed for the armoury. After finding a helm, breastplate, greaves and bracers that fit. He started a morning routine before breakfast. Running 6 miles in 1 hour, Swimming the length of the beach several times. Hunting monsters in the forest and finally practicing punches and kicks on a dummy with bare fists in the training grounds.
He kept this up until the breakfast bell rang and the day would start in earnest. Over time he would find what he was good at and what he wasn't. He was also eventually able to get a leather patch for his right eye socket. But even now he was already making plans to fill it with his birthstone.
As fun as the forest was George's favourite place quickly became the Arena. In the arena, campers were pitted against various monsters who were summoned against them, with the younger kids fighting the relatively weak monsters such as zombies, Blemmyai, and Pamdai while the older kids getting the heavier hitters like Cyclops, Hellhounds and Laestrygonians. Only the best of them fought the top tier monsters such as Minotaur, Chimera, Hydra and Manticore.
Being a son of Ares meant that swordplay came naturally, with him being able to best many of the older campers. It also helped that most were not use to his style duel wielding a xiphos and kopis instead of the usual sword/spear and shield. Even when he did use a shield, most were not used to fighting a left-handed opponent. Having one eye still made things tricky so he had to be wary of his new blind spot, but nothing that couldn't be overcome with a practice. Most of his older siblings were able to best him including Brock, Gregory and Mario thanks to having trained longer with a sword and experience, as well as some of the Head Counselors.
When it came to ranged weapons such as Archery and Javelin throwing, he managed to not embarrass himself since all of Ares kids could be proficient in all weaponry. He was no William Tell and would be no match for the children of Apollo let alone the hunters of Artemis. He did better with javelins but not by much. In both cases he was better than David and being able to best a child of the big three at something was considered an achievement.
He proved decent enough in wrestling though what he did was less wrestling and more grappling. Being 10 years old had its limitations and George still found himself throw to the ground more often than naught. Thanks to his mother's tutelage he was able to do well in Greek Mythology though he did have to be corrected on a few things due to having read inaccurate versions of certain stories. Learning Ancient Greek was trickier, but he was eventually able to get the basics of it.
He took an interest in weapon making and Pegasus riding. George made a mental note to ask about getting a personalized armour for himself. Also, there was a weapon he wanted to try and make. As for weapon polishing, while he could care less if his armour sparkled in the sun, he did care about maintaining it. After all, the mild inconvenience of being in a life-or-death situation is no excuse for not having your weapons and armour properly sharpened and cleaned. As for Pegasus riding, George had only one thing in mind for such a skill and that was to combat the three winged bitches that he intended to get his revenge on. But other than that, unless the enemy could fly, George preferred to be on the ground in the fight not flying over it. He preferred regular horses anyway and was not a fan of the chariot.
For the rest of his courses, he was mediocre. But of all the courses, the one he excelled in the most was unarmed combat. His older siblings were more experienced in armed combat but thanks to mother and Sensei, he likely had more training in unarmed combat than any of them. George was able to punch well above his weight class, easily defeating opponents 1, 2, 3, and even 4 years his elder. He hit fast and he hit hard and was not above fighting dirty such as throwing dirt in his opponent's face. But what truly made him such a dangerous fighter was a relentless determination combined with remarkable stamina and an ability to absorb punishment. This was made clear in his spars with Mario de la Torre. Mario beat him, yet despite getting slammed to the ground a dozen times and George kept getting up and coming at him.
As he was knocked to the ground again, George's muscles trembled with the pain. He grinned and spat out a mouthful of blood before struggling to his feet. "Again," he said, raising his fists.
Merida shook her head, "by the gods, when Ares made that boy, he forgot to put in the quit."
"Forgot? Or removed it?" Henry questioned.
"And he's been doing the same routine every morning before breakfast?" Cindy wondered.
Brock nodded grimly, "everyday like clockwork, sometimes I swear he's half machine."
"Not a machine," Helena said shaking her head, "a weapon."
David however eyed the boy and rubbed his chin in thought. His siblings are rustic, but George seems to have been cut from a 'different' mold. One thing was certain, seeing the ferocity that burned in George's ice blue eye, it was clear that boy would never, ever give in.