NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: Love and War
I'm back from vacation, and ready to dive back into the shenanigans of Perseus! Without further ado, the winner is…
Option A, Border Duty with Ares Cabin!
Final Scores:
A, Border Duty: 31
B, Herb Gathering with Apollo Cabin: 14
C, Forge Assistant to Hephaestus Cabin: 19
D, Cleaning the Pegasi Stables: 16
Special shoutout to option C. You guys might not have one off number of votes, but your true passion was leaps and bounds ahead of the others. Your love for sweaty muscular women shone like a beacon in your reviews!
O-o-O
Chapter 8
Love and War
Thalia's sweaty body coiled and uncoiled. Her hands pressed on Perseus's chest, supporting her body as her hips rocked against him. Perseus gripped her sides, easing her through the motion. Around them the sheets of his bed were a mess, the blanket knocked off onto the Poseidon Cabin floor long ago.
Thalia's voice was high-pitched as she moaned, tinged with exhaustion. Perseus himself was struggling to keep his eyes open. Both were breathing hard.
Suddenly, Thalia threw her head back. A moan sharper than the rest escaped her. Perseus grunted, forcing her hips down. They came at the same time, and a moment later both were laying bonelessly on the bed, tangled up in a comfy mess of limbs.
Perseus stroked her back, not minding the way it was slick with sweat. Considering his own state, to complain would've been hypocritical.
"Be careful with the Ares Cabin."
Perseus smiled, even though Thalia couldn't see it with her face tucked into his chest.
"It's just a bit of border duty. Surely they can't be that bad."
Thalia shifted, planting her chin on his chest. "Don't take anything for granted," she said. "Clarisse means business. And with how things have been going, she's as bad as she gets right now."
That caught his attention. He'd noticed it from the day he arrived, but the camp didn't seem as secure as he'd heard. It wasn't rare to spot explosions, or catch the sounds of battle as a patrol group fought off some monster or another.
"Don't your borders keep monsters out?" he asked. "Why is something like border patrol even necessary?"
"The border works for the weaker ones," Thalia said, "but it's not perfect. A long time ago they had other ways of defending camp, like a giant dragon made of metal. But those things were lost decades ago. The borders got a bit stronger years back… but whenever powerful monsters are drawn in, they always cause problems. Recently, even weaker ones have been managing to sneak in. Nobody knows how it's happening, but it's working the Ares Cabin and their allies half to death."
Perseus hummed noncommittally. A bit of danger never killed anybody… except, you know, for everybody it ever killed.
Maybe he should've been more concerned. Fighting with your life on the line sounded terrifying. But he just couldn't bring himself to believe an ordinary monster could kill him, mortal or not. He'd just have to keep his guard up.
"Do you remember the pine tree at the top of Half-Blood Hill?" Thalia asked suddenly.
"Of course I do."
"Clarisse will do anything to win a fight," Thalia said. "She doesn't pay attention to collateral damage once a battle starts. Promise me one thing. If possible, you won't let anything happen to that tree. Consider it a favor to me."
"I can do that, but… why?"
Thalia turned her head, nestling it back against his body.
"I don't know," she said, voice muffled from his chest. "I guess I'm just… feeling nostalgic about ancient history."
Perseus continued petting her body. They didn't speak any more that night.
O-o-O
Perseus stretched his hands high into the air and yawned, breathing in the fresh morning air.
His appearance was perfectly styled again, despite how disheveled it had been after the night with Thalia. Hours of lovemaking will do that to you. But he had lots of practice making himself presentable, a skill he found no end to the usefulness of.
Staring into the sky, he watched the early sun slowly crest the sky. It was beautiful, shedding its light and illuminating the world in fresh glow. He raised his hand toward it… then raised his middle finger.
He doubted Apollo would see, but it still made him feel slightly fulfilled.
"You're a bad liar."
The voice pulled his attention down from the sky. Standing near the base of the dining pavilion hill was a curly-haired blond with a stoic expression.
Annabeth Chase regarded him stonily with her arms crossed. Perseus turned toward her, 'forgetting' to lower his middle finger as he did.
"You wouldn't know how well I can lie," he said. "I never tell any in front of ladies."
"Not even Holly Victor?"
"I'm not sure why you're talking about my honest mistake that way. Can't you see how embarrassed I am about that awful experience?"
He blushed, averting his eyes. His foot kicked absently at the grass. He looked every inch of a mortified young man. Annabeth scowled.
"Quit messing around!"
"You shouldn't get so worked up," Perseus said. "Either I've never lied and I'm telling the truth about that, or I've already lied to ladies in the past, and one more is no big deal. Either way, it's nothing to yell about."
"You think you're so clever."
"Leave it to a daughter of Athena to think nobody else could be clever. You don't have a monopoly on wits."
They glared at each other, Perseus's faux-embarrassment long forgotten. A group of Hephaestus campers walked by in the background, looking at the two curiously as they passed. Finally, Perseus broke the staring contest.
He sighed, rubbing his face. "You are not your mother," he said. "I shouldn't treat you like you are."
"What does that mean?"
"That I've barely met you," he said. "No matter how much you might look like her… talk like her… think like her… You are not her. We've barely met each other. There's no reason for me to argue with you."
He meant it as an olive branch, but somehow it only seemed to rile Annabeth up more.
"You're up to something," she declared. "You tricked Holly into sleeping with you, and I bet she won't be the last one. But no matter how much you try, you won't reach twelve. As Athena's daughter, I'll stop you."
She marched off with her hands in fists. Perseus watched her go, before meandering toward breakfast. By the time he got to the pavilion, he was scowling.
"Cursing me wasn't enough, was it?" he muttered under his breath. "Now you're trying to get in my way? Petty bitch."
Annabeth didn't just accuse him of lying. She knew what his quest was down to the number twelve. The only people at Camp who knew that much were Thalia and Chiron, and the odds of either of them talking were slim to none.
Athena had paid her daughter a visit. She was using her… and Annabeth was too star-struck to notice or care.
"Fine," Perseus muttered. He turned his eyes toward the sky, just in case Athena was watching somehow. "Try your best to stop me. It'll only make it sweeter when I win anyway."
Predictably, the sky stayed silent.
O-o-O
Camp Half-Blood was a welcoming place. Even if its director often looked like he'd rather chop out his own tongue than have a conversation with a camper, Chiron and the counselors worked hard to create a home-away-from-home for its residents. These were kids with hard lives who needed a haven filled with others like them. For all the problems the camp did have, the dining pavilion was always filled with laughter, and it was rare to walk around without seeing at least a few smiles.
There were no smiles in front of Perseus now. There was no laughter. Only the smell of smoke and the grim gazes of a couple dozen pairs of eyes.
"Hi everybody," he said, waving. "Lovely weather today, am I right?"
When he chose border duty with the Ares Cabin, Chiron had given him a location and a time: 6:30 A.M. at the northeast corner of Camp. The place turned out to be an ordinary grassy hill in a mostly-untraveled part of camp. The only thing remarkable about it was the scene facing him… and, to a lesser extent, the atmosphere it created.
Tents had been hoisted. Not the fancy ones you might find at a campground, but the rough canvas kind an army would march with. A fire pit half the size of the main Camp Half-Blood bonfire fire sat with a few logs still smoldering. Benches lined all sides of it, filled with weary-looking teens with dirty faces. Weapons sat next to them in arm's reach. The grass in the area had been trodden to death, stomped into dark mud.
About half of the miniature camp turned their eyes toward the clear blue sky after his weather comment. One by one, they all looked back down, frowning.
"Too bright," said one.
"Sun gets in my eyes," said another.
"On the battlefield, you're as good as dead if you can't see," said a third. "It's just asking to get run through."
Perseus smiled uncertainly. "At least it's not too hot," he tried.
"It's humid, though."
"Humidity makes your weapon slip."
"If your weapon slips on the battlefield, you're as good as dead," said the same one as before. "It's just asking to get run through."
Before he could flounder any more trying to make small talk, the flap of largest tent flipped open.
"Look who it is."
Clarisse La Rue grinned at him as she spoke. She was a big girl, like Perseus remembered, both in height and muscle. She wore a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a camo bandana tied around one bicep. Twin dashes of war paint underlined her eyes. Speaking of her eyes, they were wide and a little bit bloodshot, hinting she was running on too little sleep and an extra helping of caffeine.
"A little horsey told me you'd be showing up, fresh blood."
Fresh blood? The words repeated across the camp, muttered to each other like a chant.
Perseus wasn't sure he liked the looks he was getting.
"That's me," he said. "Your happy-to-help, non-consenting volunteer."
Clarisse walked with a purpose, but she wasn't moving toward him. She paced past the fire pit, snatching a spear off a weapon rack on the way and coming to a stop in an open space just to the left of the encampment. She dug the butt of the spear against the ground and leaned her weight on it.
"Strong spear," Perseus muttered.
It was probably for the best that she didn't hear him.
"We're so glad to have you," Clarisse said. "That is, if you're any good."
"I've held a sword before," he said.
"Good for you. But that's not enough. If you mess up here, you could really die. And if you die, chances are the person next to you bites it too. So we're going to have a little test. Just the two of us."
Across all the benches, campers were perking up. Their full attention was on him and Clarisse. Perseus decided he definitely didn't like the way they were looking at him now. But he smiled anyway as he said, "How do you propose we do that?"
"Simple." Clarisse pulled her weight off her spear, rising to her full height. "You pick up one of those weapons," she inclined her head toward the arrayed racks "and you come at me using it. First blood takes the win. Best of three rounds."
Those were… rather brutal rules, Perseus noticed. "Can I surrender?"
"Will a monster let you surrender?"
Snickers swept the crowd. Most of them had similar features to Clarrisse, but Perseus spotted a few that seemed not to be siblings. He wondered how they got roped into this job, but that was a question for later.
Sighing, he approached the nearest weapon rack.
There were multiple swords and spears. A bow hung from one end. There were even some distinctly non-greek weapons, like a flail and a halberd, just in case a visiting demigod had very particular tastes.
Perseus grabbed a sword and gave it a few experimental swings. Frowning, he set it back. He tried a large dagger next, repeating the process before giving up on it as well. Two more rejected weapons later, the impatience had turned palpable.
"Stalling won't save you from a beatdown," Clarisse said. "It'll just make me hit harder when it comes."
"I thought this was a test?" Perseus said, not looking at her in favor of running yet another sword through its paces. "I'm sure you won't treat me too badly. Chiron would never allow something like bullying."
That seemed to shut up Clarisse and the crowd, through disbelief if nothing else. Perseus's eyes fell on one final sword and lit up.
"Now this is more like it." Even before the first few practice swings, he knew this was the one.
He walked to Clarisse, still smiling, and positioned himself opposite her in the impromptu dueling arena.
"Is that a sword or a toothpick?" Clarisse asked, staring dubiously at his chosen weapon. "All that choosing to end up with something like that?"
Perseus raised the sword he'd picked, looking at it himself. The handle was simple metal with a layer of beat-up cloth wrapped around it. Its edges were straight and sharp. But what stood out about the weapon was its width. Despite being a few feet long, it was about half as narrow as a traditional longsword. Perseus flicked it left and right.
"I like it," he declared.
The balance was a bit off, slightly higher than he was used to, but he couldn't complain. If it hadn't been for the veritable armory they had out here he wouldn't have been able to find anything remotely approaching his tastes.
Clarisse spat and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Don't cry about it when we're finished."
They began circling one another. Perseus started it, stepping sideways to his left, and Clarisse humored him. They were nearly the same height, but the girl probably weighed more than he did. The heavy load she was carrying on her chest helped with that.
"You used to be a god, right?" the girl suddenly spoke. "The god of sex. But I don't remember you from the war. Where were you, hiding out in your bedroom with some girl for protection?"
The crowd snickered, but Perseus kept smiling.
"Of course not," he said. "It wasn't my room we were hiding in."
Clarisse was taken aback momentarily, having expected him to rage at the jab. "Whatever. All you've done since arriving here is mess around with girls. You acted like you were choosing so carefully, but I bet you've never even held a weapon before. What about it? You pissing your pants over there?"
She punctuated the questions with an aggressive stomp, feigning like it was a charge before returning to circling. Perseus jumped back when she did, drawing raucous jeers off the audience.
"Idiot," he heard one say.
"He's done for," said another. "I give him thirty seconds."
"Of course not," someone replied. "You think Clarisse'll let it end that fast?"
"They're into this," Perseus said, inclining his head at the peanut gallery, careful to keep his eyes on Clarisse. "I guess you beat them all into the dirt just like this when they first arrived."
That made the crowd go silent. Some were gripping the benches next to them with white knuckles. A few even grabbed their weapons… You know, just in case Clarisse called on volunteers.
"Nail on the head?"
"Hah!" Clarisse sneered at him. "You talk a lot. And you know what they say about the talkative ones?"
"They're good with their tongue?"
"They're the first to get punched. Or stabbed."
"Funny," Perseus said. "I was just wondering why you'd been talking so much."
Clarisse went red. She snorted like a bull, both nostrils flaring out. She hefted her spear, and this time when she took a step toward him, it wasn't a feint.
"He's underestimating her," someone in the crowd said. "If you underestimate someone on the battlefield, you're as good as dead. It's just asking to get run through."
Perseus really needed to have a talk with that guy about catchphrase variation. But for now, he had two-hundred-pounds of Ares Counselor barreling toward him to worry about.
Clarisse was fast for her size. She obviously trusted her strength. She led with her spear, and the instant she was in range thrusted at his shoulder.
It was a well-picked spot. If she stabbed him there it would hurt like Hades, but he'd still be able to fight. She knew she needed everyone on deck for the real threat: the monsters. But that wouldn't stop her from getting some licks in to show who was boss.
Perseus decided that she hadn't just been taunting him. She honestly believed he'd never held a sword before.
Really, she should've listened to her subordinate about underestimating people.
Perseus stood there, frozen, as the spear approached him. People in the crowd shook their heads. A few looked away. Just as the spearpoint was ready to pierce his flesh, Perseus dropped his shoulder.
The move was as quick as Thalia's lightning. The spear whistled just over his shirt, passing harmlessly. He raised his shoulder again, striking the bottom of the shaft and knocking it up. Realization was visible in Clarisse's eyes: she'd made a mistake.
Perseus spun gracefully, turning his whole body around as he swung his sword. It whistled in front of Clarisse's face, whooshing smoothly past, and finally came to a stop as Perseus completed the move.
"You missed!" somebody shouted.
Smiling, Perseus flipped them off.
Clarisse stood frozen. Her spear was still in her hands, but she wasn't moving it at all. Slowly, she brought one hand to her nose, dabbing the tip. When she pulled her finger away, a dot of red was staining it. Fresh blood from a cut no wider than a fingernail.
"Round one goes to me," Perseus said.
"...wrong," Clarisse murmured.
"What was that?"
Steel entered her face, her lips peeling back as she bared her teeth. "I said, that was all wrong. That's not fighting. You didn't even have to spin— you did it because it looked cool!"
"Of course," Perseus said. "Why do you think I learned how to fight in the first place? Because it's a great way to look awesome. See their faces?" He gestured at the crowd. All of them had shut their mouths, and more than a few were looking at him in a completely new way. "Do you know how many beds famous heroes visited? Chicks absolutely dig badasses. These moves were totally worth the couple hundred years I spent learning them."
Just like his chops in bed, his moves with a sword hadn't been stripped of him with his immortality. Most likely, the thought never occurred to Zeus. The only gods Zeus ever respected the abilities of were other Olympians, and even then it only applied to about half of them. He probably never realized Perseus even had skills worth stripping.
Not that Perseus was complaining.
Clarisse looked like she'd seen a ghost— and she was definitely the type to try punching the monster in a horror movie before running away.
"Fighting is about carnage!" she said. "It's about blood! And glory! Not looking pretty like some damn Aphrodite girl!"
"Oh, Aphrodite girls are the best. You wouldn't believe how many I won over by dueling for their honor. They get so kinky afterward, too." Perseus sighed dreamily. "Those were good times."
Clarisse roared.
The second round started without warning. She laid into him with a barrage of jabs, all of which Perseus managed to parry off-course. Her weapon weighed at least double what his narrow sword did, and she was definitely the stronger out of the two of them. He was much faster though, in both reactions and raw speed. If he could get in close he should be able to take the second round, ending this little duel.
Perseus fought with lots of feints. He was particularly fond of ones that made his upper body flex, showing off the muscles that lined it. Finally, after more than a couple tries, he forced Clarisse to bite.
She moved her guard left while he went right. He invaded her space in under a second, the sword that he picked specifically for its speed stabbing toward her side.
Something crunched his face.
Perseus grunted. His aim was jarred, the attack that was meant to barely clip Clarisse's side instead cutting her hip more deeply. He stumbled back, staring in disbelief at Clarisse's lowered head.
She'd hit him with a headbutt. She couldn't bring her weapon around in time, so she lowered her head and smashed his lip with it like a common farm animal. When she raised her face, she was grinning ear to ear.
"I hit you first, so the second round is mine!" she said happily.
Blood ran from his lower lip as he gaped at her. "You're insane!"
"This is a fight!" Clarisse roared. "Your body should always be on the line!"
She didn't even notice the wound on her side. It was far from life-threatening, but it should still have been painful to move. She just bent her knees and prepared to spring at him again.
Perseus brought his left hand to his face, rubbing it horizontally across his lip to wipe away the blood.
"Gah!" Clarisse bellowed in frustration. "Why do you make even that look good? You're just cleaning blood! Quit showing off and fight me!"
"This is how I fight," Perseus said. "If you don't like it, then beat me."
Clarisse tensed. He raised his guard. They watched each other, knowing the final round would be decided in the next chain of blows. The crowd was silent. Perseus swore they'd even forgotten how to breathe.
The two sprinted at each other before—
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The column of fire erupted directly to the side of them, forcing them both to shield their faces from the heat. Campers tumbled off of the benches in fright. Clarisse and Perseus stared toward the source of the noise in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me?" Clarisse screamed.
"Oh no," Perseus said. "It seems we don't actually have to fight. What a shame."
"You–!" Clarisse glared at him. "We will finish this. The rest of you. GRAB YOUR WEAPONS! IT'S TIME TO TUSSLE!"
She was the first one out of the camp, sprinting at full speed.
O-o-O
By the time they arrived, Clarisse was whirling her way through a swarm of monsters all by herself.
Blackened grass and scattered embers covered the crest of the hill. On one side, outside the camp's magic boundary, roughly thirty monsters were trying to force their way inside.
A Laistrygonian giant stood by the back, blinking soot out of his eyes. An oversized match was still in his hands, and Perseus spotted at least thirteen different sticks of dynamite poking out of his overalls.
That was the source of the explosion, then. The giant had tried to blast a hole in the barrier with human explosives, and it seemed he'd been standing closer than was wise when it went off.
Ahead of him was a squad of particularly ugly creatures. Perseus scowled. Blemmyae were men with no head. Their faces were lodged in their upper chests, with noses protruding where ribs should be and mouths just above the waist. They were squat walls of muscle, far stronger than a mortal. They were dumb creatures too, reliant on somebody giving them orders. Considering Laistrygonians were only about as smart as a fifth-grader, Perseus guessed that the last figure had to be the one commanding them.
The figure was humanoid in height and shape, wrapped up in a brown cloak that hid their features. When Perseus and the others arrived, the cloaked figure was the furthest forward… standing inside the camp's magic borders.
Perseus remembered what Thalia told him about only more powerful monsters being able to enter without a struggle. Definitely the leader, then.
When the figure noticed them coming and saw that its forces were still struggling to enter, it quickly moved to flee behind its allies.
"Get them!" Clarisse roared, fighting four Blemmyae at once. "Get that asshole in the cloak!"
A few of her siblings tried. But the figure was fast. Its body moved strangely as it ran, sliding side to side as if the spine was only a suggestion. Only one person got close, and they shouted and fell as the figure slashed them with a clawed hand.
"Forget that one," Perseus said. "Rally to Clarisse first."
His duel must have left an impression because they listened. The whole group crashed into the Blemmyae as one.
Perseus twirled and twisted, cutting down two headless men in seconds, moving on before a single speck of dust could dirty him. Shouts and screams and the clash of metal dominated the melee. Still, these were well-trained fighters on their side. Monsters at this level wouldn't do more than slow them down.
Without meaning to, Perseus fought his way into the middle of the battle, finding himself directly next to Clarisse.
"You!" She finished off a Blemmyae with a brutal thrust of her spear straight between its eyes, turning to Perseus. "You're actually not useless. Together we can get the leader!"
There were still at least ten Blemmyae between them and the fleeing figure in the cloak, plus the giant.
"We need to finish these things off first."
"No!" Clarisse shouted. "All of them are disposable! If we don't get the leader, they'll just come back with more! I've seen it happen already! But with you, we can catch the bastard!"
Perseus lunged past her, picking off a Blemmyae sneaking up in her blind spot.
"Let's go!" she said.
Clarisse grabbed him by the wrist, physically dragging him even deeper into the melee.
"Just because I didn't have time to say no again, doesn't mean I agreed!" Perseus shouted.
But he kept running anyway. Despite all her faults, Clarisse had been fighting these fights longer than anybody here. If she believed catching the leader was what mattered, that was what they would do.
"What's the plan?" Perseus asked.
"Shield!"
"Sorry, all I have is this sword."
"No!" Clarisse said. "Shield."
Before he registered what was happening, she'd scooped him up, holding him in her path with his back to the monsters. Perseus struggled to understand the current situation as his face was jammed into two very large, very soft breasts.
Clarisse sprinted straight through the Blemmyae in front of them. Each impact bruised Perseus's back and buried his face even deeper in her cleavage. But between her strength and his body for shock absorption, they managed to plow directly through every monster in their way.
As they burst past the last Blemmyae, the giant roared and jumped in their path. They had as much chance of running through him as they had of beating down a brick wall. So Clarisse bellowed, "Discus!"
She twisted in circles, Perseus's feet whipping out as he picked up speed.
Clarisse let go of him. In seconds he was ripped free from the embrace of her breasts, flying up into the air. His stomach swirled. Nausea from the bumpy run, intense spin, and sudden flight made his cheeks bulge. His breakfast came back up, vomit trailing him as he flew through the air over the giant, over more ground than it should've been possible to throw someone of his size, all the way until he collided with the fleeing hooded figure.
The monster hissed at him as they went down in a tangle of bodies. The impact jarred them both, and both were slow to get to their feet.
"Yeah!" Clarisse cheered. "Perfect shot!"
The hood had been knocked back in the impact. The monster almost looked like a regular woman, except for her warped scales and the snakes in place of her hair.
"You dare attack the great Stheno–" she started.
Wham!
"Shut up!"
She dropped like a sack of snakes as Perseus stood above her breathing hard, arm extended from delivering a brutal cross-body punch.
There were twigs in his hair. There was still vomit on his chin, and specks had gotten on his clothes. One cheek was dark brown from being jammed in the dirt, and he could already feel the bruises on his back from becoming an anti-Blemmyae battering ram.
He rubbed his face with his hands, trying not to despair. This wasn't the way he fought. This was the furthest thing from cool. This was a disaster! It was—
"Nice one!" Clarisse bellowed.
"I hate her," Perseus muttered to himself. "I really, really, really hate her."
O-o-O
Perseus rubbed his face with a baby wipe, scowling. He'd gotten all the vomit off ages ago, but the memory alone drove him to keep scrubbing.
With his other hand, he tilted a bucket of water, dousing a patch of burning grass. Around him, roughly ten other Ares campers roamed around doing the same thing. When the last Blemmyae went down, Clarisse had collected the prisoner and marched her back to camp, leaving Perseus and a few others to 'deal with the damage.'
The fact that she left him in charge was probably meant to be a sign of respect, but right now it felt like nothing but an unneeded headache.
"This side's clear!" someone called out to him.
"This side too!" said another camper.
"Got it." Perseus sighed wearily, tossing aside his bucket and running a hand through his hair. "That's good enough then. Let's go back."
A large crate had been packed next to the biggest dust pile, stuffed with all the dynamite the giant had been carrying around. Clarise vaporized him while Perseus dealt with the leader. It seemed like a good idea not to leave enough explosives to level a building laying around, so Perseus made the call to collect it and bring it back to camp. Unfortunately, that meant having to carry it.
Just as he was reluctantly wedging his fingers under the crate, somebody said, "I can get that."
Perseus nearly cried with joy. Turning to his savior, he found a buff boy with a buzzcut and a jagged scar over half his face.
"You sure?" Perseus asked.
"Yeah, I've got this one," said the guy.
He bent down and hefted the full crate as if it were lighter than air. Perseus wondered if maybe, just maybe, he hadn't been giving Ares and his kids quite enough credit all these years.
The others fell into step around them as they down toward camp. Perseus sighed, already imagining sinking into his bed after a day like this one.
"I'm Sherman Yang," the boy with the crate introduced himself. "The one on your right is Mark, past him is…"
Sherman went on to give a name to every face. Perseus smiled and nodded half-heartedly. He noticed that Sherman talked with a certain amount of authority. He also noticed the way Sherman was observing him, searching his face for something.
"Nice to meet you all," Perseus said.
And he meant it. As the clean-up crew, he felt they'd all bonded a bit putting up with the work nobody else wanted.
"Your duel was amazing," Sherman said. "Isn't that right, guys?"
There was a chorus of yeses and nods. Shermann grinned.
"You're even tougher than Clarisse!" he said.
"It was a draw," Perseus pointed out.
Sherman went on like he hadn't heard him. "More level-headed, too. By a long shot. You saw the way she is. Gods, you felt it. She used you like a freaking shot-put!"
"Please," Perseus said sourly, "don't remind me."
"Sorry," Shermann said. The apology sounded genuine. "I'm just saying, you've seen what we put up with. At some point, that recklessness of hers is going to get all of us wiped out."
Perseus waited for someone to defend their counselor, but all he saw were sour faces and muttered agreements. Was Clarisse that unpopular? Or were these not random campers, but ones Sherman already knew agreed with him?
"She's crazy," Perseus said. "Can't argue with that."
"Right? Someone like that should never be in charge!"
Perseus stopped walking. His head hurt. He wanted to go to bed for a very long time. But he asked, "Out of curiosity, who should be then? You?"
"What? Nah, man," Sherman said. "I'm saying it should be someone like you."
This time the others agreed loudly and immediately. Perseus cast his eyes across them.
"I'm not interested in taking over border duty forever," he said. "When my punishment ends, I'm out of here."
"Just until it's over, then!" Shermann said. "If it's you, maybe you'll even get rid of monsters attacking by then!"
Perseus ran a hand over his face and through his hair. He sighed, starting to walk forward again. "I'll think about it."
The others quieted after that, satisfied they'd made their pitch. Perseus's head was spinning. These sorts of choices were too much for his tired brain.
He'd decide properly later, after he had a shower. And got some sleep. And ate something. And maybe got a girl into his bed.
Yes. That sounded much better.
O-o-O
Choice: What should Percy do?
Option A: Side with Clarisse and try to stay anonymous.
Option B: Side with Shermann and try to take over.
Option C: Tattle to Chiron instead of choosing a side.
How to Vote: Write a review which says/includes A or B. You can just write the letter, or feel free to type out all your reasoning. Who knows, you may even sway others to back your vote if you make a really good case.
I will count votes cast across all the sites this story is posted to (see my profile for details) and go with whatever has the majority. Chapters will generally be spaced out by at least a week, to give plenty of time for everyone who wants to vote to get the chance to.
If you enjoy my work, check out the link in my profile for more.